Carry On

One Heart, Two Souls

   Simon sat in his office, chewing on a pencil with one gloved hand, and masturbating with the other. He was supposed to be doing paperwork, but he was too distracted and caught up in his thoughts. 'Johnny cares about me? I deserve to be taken care of? That shoulder bump... The gentle hands... The smile... Those eyes... That hair... How does he keep it looking so smooth? Fuck...'

   A knock snapped him back to reality (woop, there goes gravity). His knee hit the bottom of his desk and he quickly zipped his pants up. He yanked off his jizz-covered glove and tossed it in the bin.

   "Come in," he muttered, trying to sound unbothered. Gaz opened the door and stepped in.

   "Garrick, what do you need?" Ghost asked, noticing the Sergeant's uneasy presence. Sure, his rep preceded him, but this was a different kind of uneasiness. Gaz cleared his throat.

   "Sorry to disturb you, sir, but Soap—"

   "What did he do?"

   "He had an accident, sir."

   "An accident, Sergeant?" Ghost raised an eyebrow.

   "He, uh, got in a fight..." The Lieutenant slammed his hands on the desk and stood. Kyle stepped back.

   "Where is he?"

~~

   Gaz led Simon to the training yard, where he saw John standing with Price. He was covered in dirt, grass, and blood. His mohawk was messed up. His nose was also bleeding. The captain was scolding him.

   "MacTavish, you'd better have a good fuckin' excuse for this!" Ghost growled as he stormed over to Soap.

   "Lieutenant, calm down. Soap, explain yourself." Price said as he stepped aside. Ghost crossed his arms and glared down at the Scot.

   "Richardson walked up to me while I was watchin' him an' th' other recruits train. B'fore I could ask him wha' he needed, he grabbed my crotch an' tried t' flirt with me. I snapped and dropped him. Then I beat the shit outta him, but th' cunt fought back."

   Ghost's gaze softened, then hardened again, this time more intense. He tightly gripped his folded arms with his gloved hands. He was about to pay a visit to this Richardson guy. Price noticed the Lieutenant's body language.

   "Ghost, take Soap to medical," Price ordered. "I'll take care of Richardson."

   "Yessir," Ghost grumbled between gritted teeth.

~~

   The duo walked through the hall. The tension in the air was so thick, you could cut it with a knife.

   "LT... M'sorry..." Soap mumbled.

   "Don't be." The Brit responded.

   "I jist... Richardson..." John's eyes filled with tears, and his breath hitched. No real man shows tears. Ghost must've thought Soap looked weak and ridiculous.

   He stopped walking and turned to face his Sergeant.

   "Are you crying, Johnny?" He asked softly, as he tilted his head slightly to the side.

   "N-No... Aye..." Soap whispered with a sniffle. Ghost sighed.

"Come on." He turned back and walked down the barracks hall. His boots clopped against the floor. He stopped at his room door and turned the knob. Soap was holding in tears the best he could. Simon walked inside and grabbed a small med kit.

   "Sit," he said as he pointed to the bed. Soap listened.

   "M'sorry..." He whispered.

   "You already said that, Johnny."