Howl [COD Simon Ghost Riley & John Soap Mactavish AU]

Across Hallowed Ground

"Soap?"

"Affirmative."

Silence, long enough to make Soap frown and drop his hands to his side. "Come in, Sergeant. Where the fuck are you?"

Soap knew he didn't have time for niceties. "Not sure exactly, sir. We were one click South of the original coordinates, there was an ambush. We drove South again." He pressed the heel of his hand against his left eye, hoping he was right about the direction they took. He hadn't been thinking too hard about it in that moment. "Maybe another two. We're in a hunting cabin of some sort."

"We? Who's with you?"

Soap swallowed. "Just Lieutenant Riley, sir. He's injured."

"Sit tight. We'll find you."

Soap dropped the mic in his hands and stood slowly. Simon still sat, right where he'd left him, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. His eyes, in an obvious attempt to hide his emotions, were unnaturally blank. Even for him.

Soap could still feel him on his lips, could still taste him, but the clarity of the moment pulled him back. They couldn't be kissing like schoolboys, they weren't done with their job. In fact, they had failed it, and they would have to clean it up somehow. And even if they didn't, they would end up back in Germany and go their separate ways. It was no time to start something.

But it was a time to say something. And he couldn't resist the closeness from before, even if the intimacy of it was fleeting. Simon sat back as Soap approached him and cautiously reached for him as he gently laid his shin on the cushions and lowered himself back across Simon's lap.

Simon, poorly disguising surprise on his face at Soap's return, placed his hand on his thigh beside him. He was still hard from before, the kiss making him want something he knew he shouldn't, and watching as Soap knelt in front of their makeshift comms station, leaning to adjust things, working to save them, it hadn't helped. But Soap wasn't, he was focused on something else, and Simon hoped the darkness hid his flush of embarrassment. He could absolutely pretend he felt nothing, remain stoic, but he was used to relying on his mask to cover his face.

"You know I trust you, right, sir?" He spoke quietly. His pupils were large in the low light, hiding most of the blue-gray around them.

Simon nodded. Fuck him, calling him sir, while he sat in his fucking lap. Like he could focus on his words after that. He drew on his training and forgot the sensation.

"You're my leader, I'd follow you anywhere." He looked out the window in the kitchen, nodding to the wilderness outside. "Even there." They faced each other again. Soap held up his left hand, showing Simon the spreading bruise beneath the bite. He pointed to it. "Even here."

Simon nodded again, never taking his expressionless eyes off of Soap's face.

"This changes nothing about how quickly I would follow you. You don't owe me anything."

"I do." He finally spoke, his deep voice just above a whisper. "I owe you a lot."

"No." Soap shook his head. "This is what we are trained to do. What we committed to." He let his eyes leave Simon's and wander his face, knowing it would be hidden again soon. "It's no different than what you've done for me in the past."

Simon just stared at Soap, his overgrown stubble and dark circles, and stayed still.

"This isn't going to change anything. We're going to go back to normal." His voice held authority, but he knew it was risky spouting orders to his superior.