Friends Don't Look At Friends That Way

Part Eight.

** I used the song Palace by Sam Smith to write this part! Enjoy the feels! **

While not ideal, the circumstances of your sleeping arrangements prove not nearly as awful as expected. When the sun begins to peek upon the horizon, your eyes cracking open at the first light, you find that you feel rested. You'll never know how you managed to get enough sleep with a 6'4 giant slung around you that refused to let you move an inch all night.

"Simon, wake up." You grumble sleepily, shoving gently at the arms still encircling your body. He doesn't budge, giving you his mumbled retort that sounds like the words 'make me.'

"Get. Up." Each word grits out between your failing attempts to lift his biceps off of you. He is a lot heavier than he looks, the stupid wall of muscle.

"A man actually lets you stay the night in his bed for once, and you don't even appreciate it." Ghost groans in annoyance, making no effort to loosen his grip.

You raise a hand and flick him hard on the nose, his brown eyes shooting open in surprise.

"You climbed into my sleeping bag, in case that slipped your mind." You say with a pointed glare, "Now get up."

His eyes grow a fraction wider, and he lets out a tiny gasp.

"Oh no. I've turned into you, haven't I? Are you my Soap?" He forces false distress into his tone, his mouth forming a sad pout. "Oh, how the tables have tragically turned."

Your face screws into a look of disgust as you take in the way he morphs into amusement over your misfortunes. You poise your hand in front of his face in the threat of flicking him again, but he quickly snatches your wrist to stop the incoming attack.

"You're not a good morning person, huh?" His eyes are practically alight with humor, deepening your irritation.

"You should stick to the whole silent, broody act. Humor really isn't your thing." You mock, not pleased with the sudden brazen persona he has taken on. Onery Ghost finds it funny to vaguely announce he is 'sleeping' with you to your whole team, and it is a wonder you have not strangled his stupid, thick neck yet. 

His eyes are drawn to your mouth, watching your lips every movement with an intensity that has your pulse picking up speed. You truly believe he will kiss you again until his arms slide away, finally allowing you to sit up. Embarrassment floods your cheeks when you realize that part of you was actually hoping he would kiss you again. Get it together.

"Shame. Comedy was my backup career choice." Ghost muses.

You free yourself from the confines of the sleeping bag, not looking back at him as you stretch out the tightness in your limbs. You can feel his assessing gaze locked on your back, so you turn in his direction with raised brows.

"What?" You sound more demanding than you mean to, but how he looks at you sets heat blazing down to your core, and you need him to stop before you jump back into that sleeping bag with far less honorable intentions. 

"Are we going to talk about it?" He has himself casually propped up on his elbows, his entire posture far too relaxed for this conversation. 

"You kissing me?" You focus on slipping your boots on, fingers making quick work of the laces as you avoid looking at Ghost, "No need. It was nothing."

"Ouch. You kiss a guy, kick him out of bed, and then insult him, too? You're breaking my heart over here." He pauses for a long moment as if choosing his following words carefully, "That isn't what I was talking about, though."

You aren't entirely sure what he means, but your patience for his behavior this morning is already running incredibly thin. You snatch up his mask and whip it hard into his chest, keeping your wave of inner vitriol to yourself. 

"Okay. Fair enough. I will get it out of you at some point." His tone oozes a certain confidence that makes you want to throw something heavier at him, a rock perhaps? No. He would probably like that.

"Get up. We have a lot of ground to cover." You mumble, not at all looking forward to the day ahead of you that you are going to have to endure. 

*****

GHOST'S POV:

Around mid-morning, we successfully hiked the remaining ascent that loomed over us the night before. It was tough, but considering her clumsy climbing skills, she took it like an absolute champ. She was steely and silent the entire time, which I had expected. The only words I could get out of her were the occasional grunts of agreement on which paths upward to take.

Now, at the top, she gazes quietly out at the expanse of land beneath with a stern expression that stems from her unspoken anxieties about her role in this mission. She has handled all of it exceptionally well, especially given how Soap has reacted. It bothers her, but I don't think she will admit it. She truly feels that she means little to nothing to Johnny, which couldn't be further from the truth. I doubt he has ever told her how he actually feels or if he ever will, but it is plain as day that there is far more going on than either of them is willing to notice.

"You ready to talk about it now?" I ask as I shuffle beside her, lowering myself to a sitting position on the edge of the cliff. She answers me with a hateful look but still sits beside me. A few moments of complete silence drag by before I catch the sound of her tiny sniffles.

Tearful eyes swivel to me, her lower lip quivering with the sobs she is withholding.

"I hate him." She whispers with a shake of her head. Those tears start spilling down her cheeks, her breathing growing ragged. I snake an arm around those shaky shoulders, pulling her into my side in a comforting gesture. For how strong she has always been, suddenly she feels so small, and it makes me angry to see that strength be sapped away so easily. 

"No, love. No, you don't." I hate being the one to say it. I know she deserves far better than what Soap has given her, but that does not change what she feels for him. That is a battle she has to fight on her own, and it isn't my place to do it for her.

"I wish that I hated him." She says so softly that I can practically feel my heart constrict in my chest. 

Very rarely do people ever get under my skin this way. I don't allow them to, not when I have suffered loss the way I have in my lifetime. Caring about people only opens the possibility of pain, which is the last thing I need. However, this girl wormed her way in, and now I am unsure I ever want her to find a way out.

"I know." I rest my chin atop her head as she sobs into my shoulder, all her hidden heartbreak pouring out in sorrowful waves.

We sit there, the silence of nature surrounding us, as her shattered heart finds its voice in the comfort of a soul who knows what it is to be broken.