Not All Shells are Hollow

Human

The room that Ghost woke up in definitely wasn't his own. From the odd placing of the bed - pushed to the corner by the door so that no one could see it until they were fully in the room - to the very busy work space in the opposite corner with its supplies cluttering the desktop, it was dramatically different from his and Langley's bare-bones dorm. Perhaps the most distinct feature of the living space was a bookshelf with a mix of actual literature, more than enough folders and files to fill a small cabinet, and a short stack of art pens in their packaging on top of a couple sketch books. It was different, but it felt very lived in and comfortable. Blue, early morning light filtered in through the slats of the blinds, casting striped shadows across the floor, further adding to the calm atmosphere.

The very next thing Ghost noticed was just how warm he actually felt, enough where he considered drifting back to sleep. For one reason or another, he slept fully clothed, was huddled under a blanket, and the body heat of another person radiated behind him. Ghost turned a little and peered over his shoulder, only to find himself staring at the back of MacTavish's head. He still seemed to be fast asleep.

He turned his attention back to the rest of the room in search of any indication of the time. On one of the shelves was a small digital clock, the little white numbers reading out 06:21; much later than he would've liked. Several options floated through his head as he lay still on the edge of the bed. Part of him wanted to just go back to sleep, but that could be a death sentence. The longer he stayed here, the more likely someone would spot them leaving together and the hyperactive rumor mill would be whispering about fraternization again. Leaving was a must, but it felt rude to without a word, even if nothing happened. Some fretting later, Riley decided he had little other choice than to hurry back to his dorm - hopefully before Langley woke up.

Ghost tried to be stealthy as he sat up, but the slightest of movements caused the springs in the mattress to shriek. The sound was deafening in the otherwise silent room. Half propped on his elbow, legs hanging off the bed, he waited several seconds for any sign that the creaky bed gave him away. Deciding he must be in the clear, Ghost sat up fully.

It should have been quiet again, but the mattress gave another creak which was followed by a deeply accented mumble, "Wha's happen...?" Something grabbed the back of his shirt. "...Ghost?"

Fuck. With no good way to explain himself, Ghost swallowed his panicking nerves. "Yeah?"

A faint chuckle bubbled behind him. "I think I had too much..."

"You had a lot," Ghost confirmed, finally turning his head to look at the other. "Why? You hungover?"

MacTavish had rolled onto his back, and he stared at him with tired eyes. "Jus'a headache. I'll live." He rubbed at his face, a low groan hitched in his throat followed by a yawn. "Were you leaving?"

Ghost gave a curt nod. "Yeah. Figured I'd shower." It was a lie, but he didn't feel the need to bring up the awkward topic of hiding their late night together like this. Not when they were both still half awake and the full gravity of the situation had yet to sink in. "Thanks for letting me stay the night."

"It's no problem," MacTavish murmured, dropping his head back down on the pillow. "I like the company."

The statement made the Lieutenant pause. It likely had something to do with the problems he'd mentioned last night, but it could have meant anything. Slowly, Ghost got to his feet and stretched his arms over his head. "See you later, mate," he said, hoping to play this whole thing off as if nothing happened. As if they didn't have such a personal, vulnerable moment...
...As if he didn't sincerely wish that his Captain of all people would turn him around and kiss him right here, convince him to stay a little while longer.