Little SoapGhost oneshots

-" Chilly "- ☁️>🥀

The Brit blows the smoke out of the side of his mouth, savoring the taste. He slumps over and for once, he could focus. He begins think what he wants to say to Soap, asking him to be his boyfriend.

"Johnny, we've know each other for a while, and I seem to have grown... feelings for you. I was wondering if you also had those feelings too." Ghost nods and takes a long draw of his cigarette, blowing the smoke straight up. That was it, he finally got it.

He snuffs out his cigarette and walks back inside, now determined to make dinner right. He makes perfectly cooked scrambled eggs and some bacon too. He knows it was more breakfast than dinner, but who the hell cared?

He finishes his food and goes to get ready for bed. He scrubs the burnt bits out of his old pan and throws the rest of his dishes into his dishwasher. He made sure the stove was turned off as he has a tendency to accidentally leave it on.

The blond gets to the bathroom and sheds his clothing. He gets in the shower and turns it on, relaxing as the frigid water runs down his back and over his scars. The cold shower washes away the cigarette smell and dirt he had in his tangled hair.

He presses two fingers to his lips, grazing over the large, diagonal scar he has across them. He sighs quietly and closes his frozen, dark eyes. For a moment, he just stands, letting the water wash away all thoughts so he had hope of relaxing.

Ghost reaches over and grabs shampoo. He squeezed a large, thick glob into his scalp and started to scrub. He scrubs and scrubs, not wanting to smell like smoke in front of Soap. Soap, funny eh?

"Soap. Out of all the nicknames in the parlor they chose Soap for him, why, because his lines are clean? Could've been so much cooler." The Brit snickers and rinses the shampoo from his curled, light hair.

Ghost's short nails scratches over his grown out scruff and he sighed quietly. His mind started to wander again, thinking of all of the worst possibilities, it was very good at doing that.

"What if he hates me for this? What if he doesn't want to be my friend after this if it goes wrong..?" The blonde freezes, his hands falling to his sides as cold drops of water streak down his face.

A small voice echoes in the back of Ghost's head and he yanks it to the front of his thoughts. It is a soft, comforting voice, like a ray of light in the dark. He opens his tired eyes and listens carefully to the warm Scottish accent.

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"Quit wiggling ya goof, I'll mess up the design!" Soap chuckled and Ghost smiled, watching how focused the brunette was when he inked a small design onto Ghost shoulder. Soap pulls away with a smile and wipes away the excess color.

What remains imbedded into the Brit's arm is a circular emblem with a skull, a sword and a pair of wings. In big, bold letters it reads: "Task Force 141, the best of the best."

"If ya don't mind me askin', what does it mean?" Soap looks curiously at his canvas and is met with a teary eyed blond, smiling under a black, skull printed mask.

"It's for my friends. No, my family. I bet they'd love it." Ghost's smile fades and he looks upwards at the sky.

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