Spirit || Ghost x Transmac reader

6

Y/N's Perspective:
______________________

"Long enough".

The Scott spoke, his hands sliding into his pockets and leaning back against the doorframe. Maintaining eye contact with the men as well as the devious grin he has smeared on his face.

Ghost had swung his duffle bag over his shoulder, not taking a moment to look back at Spirit or meeting eyes with Soap.

His footsteps heavy, echoing through the now silenced gym; disturbed with a grunt from Soap who had almost been knocked over by a pissed looking LT storming through. 

Soap stumbles back and holds onto the door frame with one hand, his other on his heart. A flabbergasted expression plays on his face as he looks between Spirit and Ghost.

'Dramatic much?'

"I am NOT dramatic Mister". An accusing finger was pointed at Spirit.

Spirits eyes widened, had be said this out loud?

"It's merely... Semantics" Soap slicks back his mohawk while looking at the mirror, pointing his finger guns and winking at himself.

Spirit sat there staring at him.

"What? You jealous you don't have this lady magnet?" He points his thumbs at his hair.

Still staring.

Spirit and Soap stood there, staring at each other. Silence. No noise. Not a sound. Nada.

Of course Soap was the first to crack, followed by a small chuckle from Spirit and a head shake.
He arose from his crouched posture and collected his belongings, about to place the bandana around his face but remembering what Ghost had told him.

Last thing he needs is some power hungry bastard in a Halloween mask telling him what he can and cant wear. He reaches around and ties the bandana around his face, adjusting the fabric on the bridge of his nose and placing his cap back on.

He gave Soap a small nod before exiting. His departure was followed by a confused scottish voice of ; "EY! Wait there, what happened with you and LT?".

By then, Spirit was already down the hallway and out of sight from Soap. Don't get him wrong, he likes Soap. Considering that his nickname is something you put on a Loofah, he couldn't really say much since he sounds like a discount version of Ghost.

Spirit looked down at his hands and fiddled with an iPod Shuffle, it was a gift from an old friend... we will get into that later on.

The barracks were deadly silent, moonlight slipped in through small windows, creating soft shadows on the floor. It was a comforting feeling that couldn't be described. Like one is there for you all the time, during the day you cannot see it and at night you get the reassurance it is still there.

Unless is a solar eclipse then you might be fucked.

Of course that is just an analogy.

The familiar number of your door had come into sight, a metal plate with the number was fixed to it, along with the title of who occupies the room. You run your fingers over the title, your chest feeling heavy. There were so many people bonded with, so many lost and betrayed for you to be here. But now is not the time to get emotional.