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

The Beast Howls in My Veins

They were silent for a few moments, drinking tea together in the middle of the night. Soap was a comfort to Simon, even if he wasn't sure how to accept it. It was his ease in Simon's presence, that his eyes didn't fall when he was near. Simon was used to his air of authority causing those beneath him to bend to him. Soap never bent. Not even as Simon fell apart in front of him. Embarrassment and guilt would follow him for that for a long time, he thought.

Soap watched Simon in silence. And shamelessly. He wished he was a gentler person, that he didn't have a tendency to come on too strong. He had vertigo from all he'd learned, knowing that Simon was greater than any human he knew, finding out he wasn't actually human, learning that he had experienced some extremely human loss and pain. He wondered if anyone had ever gotten close enough to know he needed comfort, let alone into his space enough to say it out loud. It was curious to him, that Simon, as simply the man, was so clear now. Like he wasn't even trying to hide it.

Simon was trying to hide it, miserably, and failing. They had gone too far before. Not too far as in he held regret, but too far for it to seem normal now. He told himself Soap had done for him what he would have done for any fellow soldier, but the way he knelt before Simon with that knife in his hand wasn't normal at all. No matter the circumstances, that kind of willingness was kind and selfless beyond what vows they had sworn when taking their roles in the first place. Simon was a Lieutenant in the 141 because that's what he was before joining, and Soap was a Sergeant, and it was no different than all the military relationships he had before.

Except the man before him carried his secret now. And it put them both in danger. Which was a confusing and comical concern for him since they lived their lives in grave danger anyway. That was the nature of the work.

"You alright, Simon?" Soap said it pointedly and cautiously, pulling his mug closer.

He'd watched Simon's stare into space get longer and longer. He knew he could handle it, whatever it was. He was perpetually 'alright'. But Soap wanted him to know he saw him.

"Fine." He said, draining his tea.

Soap stood, taking his cup from him and putting them both in the sink. Simon had planned to walk back to his room alone, but Soap stood there, waiting for him. They walked into the mostly dark hall together.

Simon had grown to prefer his loneliness, but he didn't mind Soap walking with him. He didn't mind Soap chatting with him. He wasn't really listening though, too focused on his heartbeat and the feeling of being alive beside another person. He felt a little like a moth to a flame. He felt a little like falling on his knees and begging his forgiveness.

He didn't really hear what Soap said, but he noticed that he stopped walking.

"...back into Berlin tomorrow?"

Simon nodded absentmindedly, turning to face him in the dark hall. "How's your arm?"

Soap frowned. He looked like he might laugh at him. "It was only a scratch, LT, I've just got it covered now for the bruise."

Simon stepped closer and held out his hand. Soap stared at it for a second, his face softening as he looked back at Simon questioningly, like he felt he was in trouble. Simon ignored the bad taste it left in his mouth.

He kept his hand out and Soap placed his wrist in it begrudgingly, the open look on his face hidden. Simon removed the gauze covering it, turning it gently to inspect the injury he'd caused.

"You got some fixation on lookin' at a bite, LT?" Soap said, his voice low. Teasing.

Simon knew he was teasing, but he didn't have time to guard his reaction. He shot his eyes to Soap, like a deer in the headlights. Like the question had shocked him. As quickly as it had come, it was gone, and he looked back at Soap's arm.