#my brain sounds like: soapghost soapghost soapghost soapghost (gazghoap!! <3) soapghost soapghost soapghost soapghost soapghost

[soaqrudyz]

soap and ghost are partners, this much was never secret.

rumors used to only be about ghost, the massive man that eluded social politeness with piercing glares and cold shoulders. they called him a beast, a monster, some reckoned he shouldn’t be allowed within fifty feet of a weapon, lest he have a bad day and obliterate everyone on base. the most soap got was a guy saying he’d survived a night in his bed, as if that was a difficult feat.

that changed, slowly at first, and then all at once. suddenly, the rumors were about the huge guard dog and his feral counterpart, how they wiped out entire facilities without help, no overwatch and no air support, how ghost would take you out painfully but soap would do it slowly with a kind smile and gentle hands.

where one goes the other follows, where one is you’ll find both. and everyone knows it.

gaz will pat ghost’s shoulder in passing, telling him his girlfriend was looking for him with a snicker. price would wave soap’s annoyed rambling away with an order to end their lover’s quarrel. once, a fellow sergeant made a comment about how they were “close. like brothers!” and had an entire two tables in the mess wheezing over their slop.

each time they’re sent away they come back caked in dirt and drenched in blood with sparking eyes looking straight into the other’s. each day they eat and train and bicker like they’re two halves of the same whole. each little moment seen by some lone soldier or otherwise was just a testament to how well they worked together.

some things, though, were for them and them alone.

like the peaceful quiet of bathing after they’d been deployed for however long, the tender way simon would tilt johnny’s head back to rinse the shampoo out of his hair, featherlight brushes of fingers and palms while johnny slides simon’s shirt over his head.

like ringing laughter mixed with world shattering pleasure. like settling into bed, simon’s head pillowed on johnny’s chest, making hushed, sleep deprived conversation until one of them passes out. like whispered i love yous and kisses to whichever body part was the closest.

like matching gold and silver rings that shine beautifully under pale moonlight, only darkened by the shadows of their clasped hands.

they were made for each other, they know it and everyone else does, too. they’re partners. down to the very root of the word.