INFECTIOUS [GHOSTXSOAP]

XXVI. PAINFUL MEMORIES

WARNING - PTSD / MENTIONS OF PAST SA / FLUFF

A/N ... I appreciate every single one of you who have stumbled upon this story of mine and would be absolutely grateful if you could leave a like or sneaky comment on this. It helps me know I'm on the right path but also keeps me motivated to write more stories like this.
Much love.

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Dinner had been far better than Soap had anticipated.

Ghost had led him to a restaurant, surprisingly quiet for a Thursday night, and had let the omega order whatever his heart, or stomach, desired. No strings, no worrying about payment, just order, eat, and be merry.

It wasn't, for Ghost anyway, just taking the Sergeant to dinner so he'd eat and eat well. It was, in his mind, a damn date, a way for him to dote and show Soap he wasn't as cold as everyone believed. He could be good, kind, sweet in a way, but only for Soap.

Only for Johnny.

Ghost had received a call earlier in the night from Price, slightly worried with where his soldiers had disappeared off too after the hotel bar talk, figured it had to do with Ghost's need to know what happened to the omega, but just wanted to touch base, make sure they were fine.

As the night grew late, both men had left the restaurant, Soap sporting a much softer look to his stomach, stuffed with pasta and cake, plus a few glasses of red wine, that had left him rather red in the face.

For his part, Ghost had eaten only what he needed, and stuck to water, his distaste for alcohol, save for the odd glass of whiskey, a response from his childhood and an alcoholic father and mother. Not that he would ever judge others for enjoying themselves, unless it went too far, then he would step in.

But watching Soap a little groggy on his feet, lids half drooped, and a crooked but relaxed smile on his face, Ghost knew so long as he was there, the unbonded omega would be fine.

And a little easy to fluster.

As they walked back to the hotel, albeit slowly, trying to drag out their time together, Ghost watched Soap waddle ahead for a beat, before he leant against the railing on the sidewalk they were on, on a small bridge overlooking some small river that ran through the town.

He watched Soap grasp the railing, lean forward, head tipped back to the sky, eyes closed but the widest smile on his face. “I love…ma job…but this…just…living…” He mumbled, stumbling over his words slightly, before he exhaled deeply and straightened up.

The moment he did, Ghost was there, on his right, hand on his lower back, bracing him, close. “Scares the shit outta me.” Ghost confessed quietly, rolling his own head back to look up at the stars, before he felt Soap slump against his chest.

Glancing back down, the alpha smirked under the mask, spying the tuft of hair, the way Soap was leaning heavily against him. “Not gonna pass out on me are you MacTavish?” He hummed lowly, fingers applying a little pressure to Soap's back.

“Nahhhhh…not tired Simon…just…I don't know…I feel, weird.” Soap muttered quietly, rolling his head back, ocean blues now glassy, but still focused as he gazed up at Ghost.

“In what way?” Ghost hummed deeply, other hand coming up, fingers braced lazily under Soap's chin, holding him there.

Using my name.

Face reddening, if that was even possible with how flushed the Sergeant's cheeks were, Soap swallowed thickly, lips parting slightly as his eyes moved slowly back and forth between the alpha's. “I- I…it's hard to ‘splain…just feel…light? I guess.” He shrugged slightly.