darth-mortem

[darth-mortem]

The 15th part of my demon!Ghost AU. Price and Ghost try to interrogate a mysterious enemy, after which General Strickland assigns the lieutenant a very important task. It seems that life at the base has returned to normal, but in the evening, Price, Ghost, and Soap are in for a big surprise.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14

Routine, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort. 3690 words.

“So, you were just smoking, and he attacked you, threatening Lieutenant Ryan.” General Strickland said thoughtfully, looking at Price and Ghost, who were sitting opposite him. "He arrived with the last reinforcement, right after your unit, but all his documents are fake. From what we've been able to find out, he didn't interact much with anyone at the base, kept to himself, and showed no signs of insanity. This was on him."

The general took out of his desk drawer several transparent plastic bags containing heavy amulets that had been hanging around the attacker's neck yesterday. There were a crucifix encrusted with precious stones, a gold Star of David, and two more pendants engraved with symbols and inscriptions in a language similar to Hebrew or Arabic. There was also an antique pistol, covered with engravings and carvings on its wooden parts. In a separate small bag lay a bullet on which some symbols could also be discerned.

“Silver.” The general explained briefly, tapping the wrapped ammunition with his finger. “Among his belongings, we found books: a Bible and several others. They will be sent for inspection and translation today. Judging by their appearance, they are all antique, something related to magic or demonology, in a word, superstitious bullshit.”

You can keep reading here or on the Ao3

“Has he been interrogated yet?” Price asked.

“No.” Strickland shook his head. “He was given a sedative yesterday; he should come to soon. I'll be notified immediately. And now tell me about the cats.”

“I feed them and let them warm up in my room.” Ghost said. “When we went out for a smoke, I took them some food, so they gathered around us.”

“And they say animals are ungrateful.” The general shook his head again. “We don't have anyone specifically responsible for them, and I saw some kittens at the base recently. Why don't you take care of it, Lieutenant Ryan?”

“I'd be glad to, sir.” Ghost nodded.

“Excellent.” Strickland smiled. “Then find out which ones haven't been neutered yet, and estimate how much food they need per week and what else is needed. Write official requests, and I'll allocate the money from the budget. When your unit has no other tasks, take those who need it to the town for sterilization. Take one of your sergeants with you to help.”

”Yes, sir." The lieutenant replied.

Price nodded approvingly, pleased that Ghost would be involved in something other than the usual work of the 141. Then a sudden thought occurred to him: did the demon know how to write, and did he know how to compose official requests? However, he decided to find out about it later.

At that moment, the phone on the general's desk rang. He picked it up, listened for a moment, then looked at the two officers from 141.

“He's awake.” Strickland reported. “Let's go talk to him before he starts screaming and going crazy again.”

There was no full-fledged military prison at the base, but there were a few small detention cells in the guardhouse. That's where the three officers headed: the general in front, followed by the captain and the lieutenant. When they arrived, the soldiers guarding the prisoner reported that although he hadn't started acting up again, his behavior was far from normal. Having regained consciousness after the sedative, he ignored all attempts to talk to him, knelt down in the center of the cell, and began to mutter something, swaying from side to side. A few seconds later, the three officers saw this, entered the guardhouse, and stopped at the bars.

“Who are you, and why did you attack Lieutenant Ryan?” Strickland asked sternly, crossing his arms over his chest.

The prisoner didn’t respond or even open his eyes, continuing to mumble something in an incomprehensible language. Then, with the general's silent consent, Ghost stepped forward.

“Answer us.” He said in a deep, ominous voice, staring at the man behind the bars.

It worked instantly. The prisoner fell silent mid-sentence, opened his eyes, and, seeing Ghost, slowly rose to his feet.

“Demon!” He spat with hatred. “I have been defeated, but I am not alone; there are many of us! And all of you who have conspired with this creature will burn in hell!”

“I'm no expert, but I've never heard of demons serving in the army and having documents.” The general said. “Unlike you, because your papers are fake, and you know it very well.”

“Take off his mask and you'll see!” The attacker shouted.

Price tensed slightly, but his expression and voice remained completely calm.

“All members of our unit have seen Lieutenant Ryan's face more than once.” He said. “It has also been seen by medics who have the necessary clearance. Of course, Thomas is an unusual man, I would even say unique, but he is still just a human.”

“Lies! You're all in cahoots with him!” The prisoner shouted, looking at the lieutenant. “Damn you, you hellish bastard!”

“If I'm a demon, then I'm already damned.” Ghost said impassively.

“Enough, Lieutenant.” The general grimaced slightly. “It's obvious that this man is insane, and we won't learn anything from him here and now.”

The three officers left the cell, and Strickland sighed wearily, taking a cigar from his shirt pocket. Price lit it with his lighter, understanding the general's feelings about all this crazy shit and sympathizing with him. Now, in addition to his regular duties, he would have to investigate how this man had managed to get into his base, and all this was accompanied by an incredible amount of extra paperwork.

“Well, gentlemen, other people will deal with this crazy.” The general said. “If they find out anything, I'll let you know. In the meantime, be careful, especially you, Lieutenant Ryan. Suddenly, there are really a lot of them.”

With a wave of his hand, Strickland walked back to the administrative building. Price and Ghost headed for their unit’s block in silence, and only when they were inside did the captain gesture for the lieutenant to follow him into the break room. The rest of the members of 141 were not in the building at the moment, so it was a great opportunity to discuss the latest events in private.

“Tell me, Lieutenant, could the things the general showed us harm you?” Price asked, turning on the coffeemaker.

“Negative.” Ghost shook his head. “But I suppose there are some that could.”

The captain frowned and looked thoughtfully at the demon. At the beginning of his collaboration with 141, he seemed completely invulnerable, and Price believed that despite all his oddities, keeping the secret of his true nature would be easy enough. Both assumptions turned out to be wrong, and the captain didn't like it very much. Especially considering the fact that he and the other members of 141 had grown attached to the demon, and his comfort and safety had become as important to them as each other’s.

“If there really are a lot of these freaks, is there any chance that Albright knows something about them?” Price asked, pouring himself some coffee. “And if so, why the hell didn't he warn us?”

Ghost shrugged silently, and the captain didn't press him for an answer, knowing that the lieutenant didn't have one. His question was more rhetorical, but it would cease to be so when he asked Albright himself, who clearly knew more than he was saying. Price was also curious about the colonel's motives for such secrecy. Was he withholding information because he didn't think Ghost would fit into the new team, or was he actually one of those people who wanted to send the demon back to hell? Maybe Albright was just studying his weaknesses under the guise of cooperation? Or maybe he was just jealous that Ghost had chosen 141 instead of continuing to work with his unit?

“I'll get in touch with him and try to get some information out of him.” Price said wearily, taking a sip of his coffee and then changing the subject. “Lieutenant, do you need help with the task the general gave you?”

“Negative.” Ghost replied.

“And you'll write the necessary documents yourself?” The captain raised an eyebrow.

“Yes.” The lieutenant nodded. “Unfortunately, even death couldn't erase the memory of how to work with the army's bureaucratic machine.”

Despite Ghost's monotonous and sinister voice, it sounded like a joke, and Price smiled, squinting his eyes. He was pleased with the progress the lieutenant had made in communication in such a short time. Whereas at first he spoke in short sentences and usually only when addressed (and even then not always), now he expressed his opinion without a lot of leading questions, joked, and even initiated conversations himself. And here, credit must be given to Soap, who worked very hard and patiently to develop Ghost's communication skills.

After mentioning Sergeant MacTavish, Price's thoughts turned in a different direction. It was obvious to him that Soap's relationship with Ghost was much deeper than just friendly, and this couldn't help but bother the captain. He didn't think it would affect the unit's work; they had proven their effectiveness time and time again, despite occasionally disobeying direct orders to save each other's lives. Price was concerned about other things, such as whether the lieutenant knew that relationships with lower-ranking comrades-in-arms had to be kept secret. And, most importantly, would emotional and, even more so, physical intimacy with a demon harm the human? They still knew very little about him; what if his hellish nature gradually poisoned their souls, especially Soap's, who spent every free minute with Ghost? What if the demon himself doesn't really know how long-term interaction with him will affect humans?

Lost in his disturbing thoughts, Price didn't immediately realize that Ghost was saying something to him and had to ask him to say it again.

“Can you give me some request forms, Captain?” The lieutenant repeated.

“Yes, of course.” Price nodded. “I think I have them right here. Let's go take a look.”

Ghost got up from the couch and obediently followed the captain to his room. He froze at the door while Price rummaged through the papers on the desk and in its drawers. He deliberately took his time, gathering his thoughts, and when he found the pre-printed forms, he took them and turned to Ghost.

“Listen, Lieutenant, I don't want to interfere in your personal life, but as your commander and friend, I have something to tell you.” The captain began, and Ghost tilted his head slightly to one side, showing interest. “First of all, I don't know how much you remember about subordination, so let me remind you that according to the statute, any relationship with subordinates is prohibited. Therefore, what is between you and Soap must remain a secret.”

“Yes, Captain.” Ghost nodded.

“Secondly...” Price paused and sighed heavily, realizing that it was impossible to phrase this correctly. “We all, and especially Soap, spend a lot of time with you. I know that you would never deliberately harm any of us, but what about some hidden influence that you may not be able to control?”

“Only pure-blooded demons have that ability.” Ghost said. “Their dark aura gradually corrodes both the souls and bodies of humans who interact with them for a long time or frequently. It's the price they charge for their services, which they don't usually talk about.”

Price nodded, then approached the lieutenant, handed him the forms, and placed his hand on his shoulder.

“I had to ask.” He said apologetically.

“I understand, Captain.” Ghost nodded. “May I be dismissed?”

“You have my permission.” Price replied, and the lieutenant stepped out into the corridor, ducking his head in the doorway.

With neither an office nor a desk in his room, Ghost made himself comfortable in the break room. He already knew how many cats on the base had not been neutered, so he started with that request, mentioning that the kittens the general had seen were still too young for the procedure and would have to be taken separately in five or six months. Then, knowing the appetite of each of his furry friends, the lieutenant calculated how much food to order once a week and added vitamins and parasite remedies to the request. After checking both documents, Ghost signed them and went to the general's office, ignoring the increased attention to his person from the local soldiers. Of course, they had already heard the story about the crazy fanatic and the cat attack, so they stared at the lieutenant and whispered as he passed by, not even imagining that he could hear every word they said.

After receiving the requests, the general said that if there were no urgent missions for 141, they could fly to the town tomorrow and told him where to get cat carriers. Ghost wanted to see Captain Price but then decided that this information was not so urgent that it couldn't wait until evening. After leaving the administrative floor, the lieutenant slowly made his way back. He glanced around, looking for Soap, but he was nowhere to be seen. Instead, several cats ran out from somewhere and followed Ghost, attracting even more attention to him. He quickened his pace to get away from the curious glances as fast as possible, but then a private appeared in his path.

“Lieutenant Ryan, may I speak?” He exclaimed, performing a military salute.

“Proceed.” Ghost nodded, repeating his gesture.

“Do you really prefer cats to humans, sir?” The private blurted out, and several of his comrades standing nearby chuckled.

“Yes.” The lieutenant replied emotionlessly, glancing briefly at his four-legged companions. “Unlike humans, they don't ask stupid questions, and they know what subordination is. Squad, attention!”

The cats, which had been moving chaotically, regrouped into something resembling a formation. The private's mouth fell open in surprise; Ghost walked past him and continued on his way.

During dinner, the lieutenant informed the captain about the planned trip to the town the next day and said that he would like to take Johnny as his assistant. Price didn’t object and gave a stern look to Gaz and Roach, who were already ready to comment. Perhaps on another day it would not have stopped them, but today everyone except the lieutenant still had work to do, so they ate quickly and without conversation and left the residential block just as quickly when their plates were empty.

Ghost returned to his room, settled into his armchair, and waited for the time to go for his traditional late smoke with Soap. They had hardly spoken today, and the lieutenant realized with surprise that he already missed his sergeant. It was an unusual, overly human feeling that made the demon's chest ache in a familiar way, but now that he understood why it was happening, it was even pleasant. This pain reminded him that he was still partly human and therefore could choose his own path.

When Soap arrived at the smoking area, Ghost was already waiting for him there as usual. It was cold outside, and the first snowflakes of autumn were falling, so there were no cats around the lieutenant today. However, as he sat down next to him, MacTavish was sure that most of the fluffy creatures were waiting for their demonic friend in his room.

“Did that bastard say anything?” Soap asked, pressing himself against Ghost. “Was he the one who sabotaged the detonators?”

“He didn't admit it, but I'm sure it was him.” The lieutenant replied, putting his arm around his sergeant’s shoulders. “Most of what he said were fanatical ravings.”

“Most?” Soap looked at Ghost and took out a cigarette.

“He said there are others like him, but that's not necessarily true.” The demon explained.

“Fuck, if that's true, then it's some kind of bloody cult!” The sergeant spat, showing his attitude toward all these people.

Ghost shrugged silently; he didn't want to discuss it at all, because Johnny would inevitably start worrying about him, and the demon didn't want to lie to him and claim he was completely invulnerable. Luckily for him, the sergeant didn't press this issue and instead started asking about tomorrow's trip to town. When he heard that General Strickland had officially assigned the lieutenant to take care of the cats at the base, Soap was very happy. Seeing his beaming smile, Ghost told him the rest, and after listening to him, the sergeant whistled in surprise.

“How do you know all this?” He asked. “The food, sure, but the parasite medicine? Did the cats tell you?”

“Negative.” The lieutenant replied, shrugging his shoulders. “Actually, I don't know how I know. As far as I can remember, I've never had a pet.”

Soap opened his mouth to say something else but didn't have time because Price suddenly appeared in the smoking area, looking very angry. Ghost, as expected, remained motionless and indifferent, while MacTavish jumped to his feet, trying to figure out which of his antics the captain had found out about.

“So, your trip to Manchester went without incident, you muppets?!” Price asked without preamble, frowning.

Johnny glanced briefly at Ghost and lowered his eyes. It had been his idea not to tell the captain about their meeting with Joseph, and he had no doubt that this was the reason, because nothing else had really happened at the time.

“I can explain, Cap!” Soap said decisively.

“Yes, please do.” Price demanded, calmer but still irritated, and sat down next to Ghost, taking out a cigar.

“We arrived at the cemetery late at night and didn't even go through the main entrance.” Johnny began, glancing at the lieutenant. "We didn't see a single person there. But when we were standing by Ghost's mother's grave and... um... his own, Joseph suddenly appeared. He asked some questions, I got confused, and Ghost said he was Simon Riley's former comrade-in-arms. We talked for just a couple of minutes and left, that's all, I swear! I didn't think anything bad would come of it, so I didn't tell you right away. I didn't want to bother you unnecessarily."

Price sighed heavily. He took off his hat, rubbed the back of his head, and put it back on. He knew that MacTavish wouldn't lie to him, so technically the meeting with Ghost's nephew was indeed a coincidence, but he was still annoyed that these two hadn't told him everything right away. However, his anger quickly dissipated, and the warmth and comfort of sitting next to the demon who radiated warmth on this cold autumn evening played no small part in that.

“Strickland called me just a few minutes ago and said that the General Staff had received a request from Joseph and Thomas Riley for the whereabouts of Lieutenant Ryan.” Price said without waiting for questions. “Of course, no one had told them anything, so they sent a letter asking that he be handed over to the lieutenant.”

Ghost slowly turned his head toward the captain, who took an envelope out of his pocket. The lieutenant took it, looked at it for a few seconds, then carefully opened it, took out the letter, and began to read, despite the almost complete darkness around him. Price smoked his cigar, waiting patiently for him to finish, while MacTavish could hardly stand still with excitement and curiosity. Ghost remained motionless for several minutes, then stirred, put the letter back in the envelope, and hid it in his pocket.

“You're going to answer them.” Price said, and it sounded more like a statement than a question.

“They're my family.” The lieutenant said more quietly than usual. “Tommy wrote how much he loved me and how my disappearance broke his and our mother's hearts. And Joseph... he wants to know more about his Uncle Simon.”

Soap quietly approached and gently patted Ghost on the shoulder, letting him know that he was there and always ready to help and comfort him if needed. Price looked at them, knowing that this letter must remain unanswered, but he couldn't bring himself to say it out loud. The situation the lieutenant found himself in was terrible, and it was impossible to imagine what he was feeling. These people really were his family; they mourned him and loved him so much that they were able to break through all the circles of army bureaucratic hell to send this letter. As a commander, Price could, of course, forbid the lieutenant from writing a reply, but as a human being...

“Simon.” He addressed the demon by name. “I understand how difficult this is for you, but you must remain Lieutenant Thomas Ryan to them and tell them no more than Lieutenant Thomas Ryan could have known.”

“Yes, Captain.” Ghost nodded and bowed his head. “I have no other choice. I can't tell them that I'm actually Simon, who died, made a deal with the devil, was resurrected as a demon, and that's why I've grown so much.”

“I'm so sorry.” Johnny said quietly and hugged Ghost.

“Me too.” Price said sincerely, sighed, and threw away his cigare butt. “I'll make sure that when you write to them, your letter gets to them as soon as possible. Just let me know when you're ready.”

“And I can help you write it if you want.” Soap added.

He understood that it would be hard for the demon to write a personal letter that didn't look like an official report or wasn't too short. Not to mention how difficult the whole situation was.

“Thank you both.” Ghost nodded and rose.

Price also stood up, and the three of them returned to their residential block. After wishing the lieutenant and sergeant good night, the captain went to his place to get a towel and some clean clothes, wanting to take a shower before going to bed. When he returned to the hallway, it was empty, but Price was absolutely certain that Ghost and Soap had entered the room that belonged to one of them, rather than going their separate ways. However, that was the least of his problems, and, putting it out of his mind, Price headed for the shower.

[darth-mortem]

Rest easy

[darth-mortem]

The 14th part of my demon!Ghost AU. During a break between tense missions, TF141 decides to devote their free time to building greater trust between humans and demon. This leads to an unexpected ending that confirms some of Captain Price's suspicions.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13

Party, humor, fluff, cats. 3165 words.

All the members of 141 sat silently at a table in their break room, watching Ghost, who had taken the couch with Soap. The lieutenant, of his own volition and with the support of MacTavish and Price, had just briefly told his story, omitting all personal details and dryly recounting the facts. No one expected anything else from him, and now the two sergeants, who were hearing all this for the first time, were trying to digest what they had heard.

“So, if you... um... were reborn when you were twenty-six and spent twenty years at Albright's base, then you're forty-six now?” Finally, Gaz broke the silence, rubbing the back of his head below his blue cap.

You can keep reading here or on the Ao3

Ghost shrugged vaguely, Soap opened his mouth, probably thinking for the first time about the age of his demonic partner in battle and in bed, and Price smiled slightly and took a drag on his cigar.

“Not quite, son.” He said, shaking his head. “When it comes to our lieutenant's combat experience, it really is forty-six years. But his human ones are probably only about twenty-six.”

Soap wanted to argue that it was more, but then he remembered that Ghost had had no human experience in the last six months of his life, suffering unspeakable torment from numerous tortures and humiliations. He had been in 141 for less than a month, so twenty-six was even an exaggeration.

“Damn, then he's as psychologically developed as Soap!” Roach exclaimed in surprise, glancing at MacTavish and adding, addressing Ghost directly. “So you, Lieutenant, can be considered younger than me and Gaz!”

“Even younger than Johnny, I guess.” The demon said, staring at Sanderson with his sinister eyes. “My combat experience has been preserved and improved, both naturally and supernaturally. But I've almost lost my humanity.”

“But not completely!” Soap interjected decisively, squeezing Ghost's forearm. “You love cats and, I hope, us; you hate narcos and technology, and love and hate are two basic human emotions.”

“Yes.” The lieutenant confirmed. “I know the impression I make on people, including all of you. But you don't have to be afraid of me. Everyone else does, but not you. I want you to know that because I'll never be able to show it to you as a human.”

“We like you too, Lieutenant.” Roach smiled.

“Some of us even like you too much!” Gaz exclaimed cheerfully, pointing his thumb over his shoulder at Soap and winking exaggeratedly.

“Fuck you!” MacTavish responded immediately, giving his friend the middle finger and pressing his shoulder against Ghost's.

“How about we all go into town and celebrate at the pub?” Roach suggested, ending the argument.

“Let's celebrate here!” Soap immediately changed his mind, his eyes lighting up. “Ghost won't be able to join in the fun at the pub, but I think I know what to offer him to drink here. So, drinks are on me! Non-alcoholic, of course, Cap!”

“Then we'll find some decent food.” Gaz promised, bumping fists with Roach.

“Let's not have any of your sweets, but something that will serve as a snack if the drinks turn out to be alcoholic for some strange reason.” Price said, expressing his preference and getting to his feet.

“So, tomorrow night?” Soap asked.

“Tomorrow night.” Roach confirmed, and everyone began to leave the recreation room.

Ghost disappeared unnoticed, which was surprising considering his size. Soap was sure he could find him in his room, but he didn't go there, realizing that he needed to be alone after talking so much, which was unusual for him. Besides, MacTavish had a task: to find someone who had alcohol and would agree to sell it or exchange it for something useful or a service. It would be more difficult than getting snacks, but Soap had made many friends at the base and was confident he could handle it. He didn't meet Ghost until the evening, during a smoke break before bed. The lieutenant was already waiting for him at their usual spot, motionless as always, surrounded by cats. The sergeant sat down next to him and was immediately enveloped in pleasant warmth emanating from the demon's burly body and his hand resting on Soap's shoulder.

They were silent for a few minutes. Johnny smoked a cigarette, listening to the sounds of the forest coming from behind the high concrete fence of the base. It was windy today, and it would probably start raining soon.

“A lot has happened lately.” Finally, Soap broke the silence.

Ghost didn't answer, although he agreed completely. In fact, there had happened more in the last few days than in the entire twenty years he had spent at Albright’s base, and it was a little too much for the lieutenant. But communicating with other members of 141, the rapid development of his relationship with Johnny, and meeting his nephew, whom Ghost remembered as a little boy—all this deprived the lieutenant of his usual calm, even if it wasn't visible on the outside.

“Want to talk?” Soap asked, tossing his cigarette butt into a tin can that served as an ashtray.

“I don't know.” Ghost admitted honestly.

He knew that conversation played an important role in human life, but he wasn't sure it could bring him the same relief it brought humans. However, Soap understood everything, and a gentle smile appeared on his lips.

“Then tell me when you want to.” He said. “You can talk to me about anything that's bothering you.”

“Roger.” Ghost nodded slightly, and then abruptly changed the subject. “I moved the bed back to my room.”

“Why did you do that?” Soap asked in surprise.

“So you can sleep there if you want.”

“Oh, Simon!” Johnny hugged the motionless Ghost tightly. “I want to right now, can I? I'll just go brush my teeth and change. See you at your room!”

With that, Soap literally ran to the entrance of the block. The lieutenant watched him thoughtfully, then moved cautiously and, when the cats reluctantly climbed off him, got up and also headed toward the building.

The three sergeants spent the entire next day preparing for the party and took it very seriously. Price was not supervising the process, so he was very surprised to see not only the snacks and sweets brought by Roach and Gaz in the break room, but also several garlands with colorful lanterns and even balloons. They hadn't agreed on this, and the captain was about to give Gary and Kyle a stern talking-to as a preventive measure when suddenly the door opened and several cats ran into the break room, followed by Ghost, who entered slowly and solemnly. Price opened his mouth again to sternly remind him of his order not to let cats into the block, but again he was too late, because Soap burst into the room after the lieutenant. He looked so happy and satisfied that the captain decided to express his complaints later and simply sat down at the table, pushing the ashtray toward himself.

Soap came closer and, under the watchful eyes of his comrades-in-arms, placed a bottle of cold tea and a bottle of Sprite on the table. Price took the first one, unscrewed the cap, and, catching the aroma of whiskey, nodded approvingly.

“This tea seems to be quite strong.” He said with a smile.

“What's in the other bottle?” Gaz asked curiously and reached out his hand, but Soap slapped it away and pushed the Sprite further away.

“Put your hands away, that's for Lt.!” Johnny declared. "It's pure alcohol. I also brought some extremely spicy dried meat and Tabasco sauce."

Roach brought a separate plate, and Soap laid out the treats for the demon. Meanwhile, Gaz poured whiskey for everyone present and returned to the demon, holding an empty glass and a bottle of alcohol.

“How much should I pour you, Lieutenant?” He asked.

“I don't know.” Ghost shrugged.

“Pour him a full glass.” Price decided for him. “And Sergeant MacTavish can tell us how he managed to steal alcohol from the infirmary.”

“That's offensive, sir!” Soap shouted indignantly. “I didn't steal anything, I traded for it, and not from the infirmary, but from the communications guys! They're given alcohol to clean some of their electronics, and they get way more than they actually need.”

“Not a bad idea.” Gaz praised, handing Ghost a glass.

Under the captain's stern gaze, Garrick and Sanderson averted their eyes, only Soap staring intently at the lieutenant's back as he tasted the alcohol and meat, turning away from his comrades. In fact, everyone was curious, especially when the demon poured almost the entire bottle of Tabasco sauce on his snack. Finally, he pulled his mask back on, turned to face the others, and stared at Soap with his eerie black eyes.

“That's good.” He said, thought for a second, and added. “Thank you, Johnny.”

Ghost didn't think he could get drunk, but the alcohol spread a pleasant warmth through his stocky body, completely unlike the hellish heat of his black blood. He also felt a lightness that seemed vaguely familiar, as if the demon's body remembered something it had felt when it was a human one. The meat with the spicy sauce was delicious, and Ghost thought for the umpteenth time how wonderful it was to be able to taste something, even if he didn't need food to survive.

With the lieutenant's permission, Soap told them about the experiment with the car, and Gaz and Roach laughed loudly, imagining the face of its owner. Price also smiled, thinking that such a skill could actually be useful and that he should somehow organize a training ground for the demon to practice it. The three sergeants, meanwhile, began to develop the idea, imagining what would happen if Ghost could also move a helicopter or an airplane, or even several at once. The lieutenant remained silent, allowing them to fantasize without confirming or denying anything, but he decided to study flying machines, just as he had studied cars. Having someone on the team who could fly a helicopter greatly expanded their capabilities, especially if something went wrong during a mission and they needed to exfil from enemy territory urgently.

After a few more drinks and a discussion of current affairs, the conversation returned to Ghost. Inspired by the lieutenant's candor yesterday about his life and afterlife, the curious sergeants Garrick and Sanderson began to ask him about his superpowers.

“Can you turn one thing into another?” Asked Roach, who was no longer very sober.

“Like water into wine!” Gaz exclaimed, causing Price to sigh heavily and roll his eyes.

“Negative.” The demon replied impassively. “You'd better ask the members of a rival agency about that.”

“Which one?” Gaz blinked, and Ghost pointed his finger upward, hinting at heaven.

“But I can turn water into steam.” The lieutenant continued. “And metal into steam. And stone. And blood inside the human body.”

“Wow!” The two sergeants exclaimed enthusiastically.

“I can also make you both sober again.” Ghost added with the same impassivity.

“Oh no, please don't!” Roach's eyes widened, as he seemed more frightened by this prospect than by the evaporation of blood.

“If they get on your nerves, Lieutenant, do it.” Price said, squinting cheerfully, while Soap laughed out loud.

Gaz pouted, but only for a few seconds, while Ghost turned away to take a swig of alcohol and throw a few pieces of meat into his mouth. Then curiosity got the better of him, and he began asking questions again.

“What about telekinesis? Can you move things without touching them?” Kyle grabbed the last handful of nuts, beating Gary to it, who immediately pouted. “What about levitation? Could you lift something into the air right now?”

Ghost stared silently at Gaz, making him feel uncomfortable, and then everyone saw the sergeant slowly rise into the air along with the chair he was sitting on. Surprisingly, Kyle was the last to notice when his head was almost touching the ceiling, and he immediately yelled, clutching the back of his chair. Much to the amusement of the other two sergeants and even the captain, Ghost spun Gaz around a few times before lowering him back to the floor.

“What about sex?” Roach decided to change the subject.

“Negative.” Ghost replied. “But thanks for the offer.”

For a second, everyone froze, then Soap, Gaz, and Price burst out laughing while Sanderson, blushing, shouted that he didn't mean it. When he tried to pour himself some more whiskey, the liquid didn't pour out of the bottle, remaining in the same position it was in when the bottle was standing upright.

“Okay, okay, sorry!” Roach looked guiltily at Ghost. “That was an inappropriate question.”

“Besides, it's better to ask Soap about that, right, MacTavish?” Gaz couldn't resist.

“Enough!” The captain interrupted the further argument, took the bottle from Gary, and poured everyone a last shot of whiskey without any supernatural interference. “From now on, before asking the lieutenant a question, each of you three should think about whether you would like to answer it yourself.”

The 141 gathered for a smoke break after lights out, but they knew that the guards didn't patrol their smoking area, so they waited for the patrols to change shifts, then quietly left the building and quickly circled around it. Price sat down, Roach quickly settled down next to him, Gaz crouched down, and Soap and Ghost remained standing in the shadow of the building.

A thick fog covered the base, and the air was so humid that small cold droplets settled on exposed skin. However, after the whiskey and the time spent in a rather small room, it was even pleasant. Everyone was silent so as not to give away their presence when suddenly Ghost turned his head toward the corner of the building, and a minute later, everyone else heard quiet footsteps. It didn't sound like the confident gait of guards, so the members of 141 tensed up, but they didn't have time to do anything because a man came out toward them. He was dressed normally, like all the other soldiers on this base, but several massive silver and even gold amulets hung around his neck. The stranger had pistols in both hands: one modern, which he pointed at the humans, and one antique, the barrel of which he pointed at Ghost.

“I know what you are, you monster!” He hissed. “Now you're going back to hell, and so are all of you!”

Everyone froze—not out of fear, but out of surprise. None of the 141 recognized the man, although three sergeants had managed to learn the base's personnel fairly well. He was in military uniform, but he didn't look or act like a soldier; he was too nervous and twitchy and looked like he could snap at any moment.

“Knowing who he is, you hope to kill him with this thing?” Price asked calmly. “And then all of us, before the guards can stop you?”

“Have you ever fired such an ancient weapon before?” Roach, who was fascinated by such things and even had a small collection at home, chimed in. “The recoil is crazy; you probably won't be able to hold it with one hand and hit the lieutenant even from that distance.”

The aggressor clearly did not expect such a calm and even indifferent reaction. He shifted his modern pistol from Price to Sanderson and back, completely losing sight of Garrick, who had already begun to slowly move behind him. As for Ghost, he remained motionless, only slightly changing his position so that Johnny was behind him, and silently stared at the unexpected enemy, as always showing no emotion. Then Soap suddenly noticed small shadows sliding toward the attacker, surrounding him.

“He's not wearing his hellish armor, so he can be killed!” The aggressor finally hissed in response to Price.

“Poor thing.” Came the low, terrifying voice of the demon from under the hood. “You spent so much energy on your little operation, and you didn't even bother to find out that you can't kill something that's already dead. But we'll discuss that later. For now...”

The demon didn't move, but shadows suddenly pounced on the enemy, and after they did, everyone realized with surprise that they were just base cats, judging by their angry hissing and meowing. They pounced on the man who had threatened their huge friend with a ferocity only found in predators, tearing his flesh with their claws and teeth. Gaz and Roach also rushed forward, quickly disarming him and pinning him face down on the ground. At that moment, the guards ran to the noise, and the sleepy silence at the base turned into chaos.

At first, they wanted to detain everyone, but the attacker's crazy behavior only worsened his situation and improved that of the members of 141. General Strickland, who had been roused from his bed, listened to his frantic cries about demons and their minions for only half a minute, then ordered him to be locked up in the guardhouse immediately.

“And if he keeps screaming like that, have the doctor come and give him some kind of sedative.” The general added and turned back to the members of 141. “Guys, are any of you hurt?”

“Negative.” Ghost replied unexpectedly, beating Price to the punch. “The cats attacked him for some reason, and Sergeants Garrick and Sanderson took advantage of the opportunity.”

“Cats can feel assholes.” Strickland nodded solemnly. “Now go to sleep, and tomorrow morning, right after breakfast, I'll be waiting for you, Captain Price, and you, Lieutenant Ryan, for a detailed report and to participate in the interrogation of this crazy bastard.”

“Yes, sir.” Price replied for both of them and, waving his hand to his subordinates, headed first toward the entrance to the block.

Once inside they did not disperse, but returned to the break room to discuss what had happened, first among themselves. Ghost immediately said that he had no idea who this person was, but Colonel Albright had once told that something like this could happen. After that, they decided to tell Strickland everything as it had happened, omitting the information that Lieutenant Ryan was actually a demon.

“See, Cap, cats aren't creatures from hell at all; they protected us because Ghost feeds and warms them!” Soap exclaimed at the end of the discussion.

“Actually, they protected us because I'm a demon, and they are partly creatures from hell.” The lieutenant said.

“Amazing.” The captain said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “However, they turned out to be useful creatures from hell, so from now on, I'll allow them in the building. Now, everyone go to sleep.”

The soldiers dispersed, and Gaz, who lingered at the door, noticed that Soap had not gone to his room but to Ghost's. However, he was too tired to think about it now, so he simply obeyed the captain's order and, once in his room, went straight to bed.

[darth-mortem]

[darth-mortem]

I ordered face paint and I like how it looks. But it's very hard to wash off😭

[darth-mortem]

The 13th part of my demon!Ghost AU. Ghost cannot get his brother and his family out of his mind. He remembers more and more happy moments, but along with these memories come others, dark and terrifying, like hell itself. Soap knows him well enough to understand that he is overwhelmed and depressed by the horrific episodes of his human life, and he comes up with a crazy idea. He thinks he knows how to help Ghost, but will it really work, or will it make things even worse?

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12

Angst, hurt/comfort, Ghost's family, some hot things. 3696 words.

Soap opened his eyes and reflexively recoiled when he saw Ghost standing over his bed. It wasn't the first time he had seen this, but it was impossible to get used immediately after waking up to the sight of the demon's sinister skull mask and eyes that were abysses in the darkness.

“Bloody Jesus!” Soap blurted out before he could realize what he had said.

Ghost, who was standing slightly bent over him, straightened up and took a step back. Lately, he had even started apologizing for such incidents, and Soap hoped that sooner or later he would simply learn to wait for him to wake up from a distance, rather than standing over his bed like a fucking grim reaper. However, today the lieutenant remained silent, and the sergeant suppressed his anger, realizing that he was not well.

“What's wrong, Simon?” Johnny asked, trying to keep his voice soft. “Please tell me.”

You can keep reading here or on the Ao3

Ghost looked into his sad blue eyes and, as always, couldn't refuse him. Perhaps he would have shared it with Johnny even without being asked if he had known how to put into words what was troubling him. For him, a demon, albeit one with memories of human life, all these feelings were too complex and incomprehensible to talk about out loud. But Johnny was looking at him, waiting for an answer, and Ghost didn't want to prolong his wait. Soap never rushed or prodded him, giving him time to think about the question, but he was glad when the demon answered quickly. And Ghost liked to see Johnny smile.

“My family is still alive.” The lieutenant said in an unusually hoarse voice, looking at his sergeant.

“Oh, Simon.” Soap extricated himself from under the blanket, jumped to his feet, and hugged him. “I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now, but I'm here, with you, do you copy?”

“Roger.” Ghost nodded, carefully placing his hands on Johnny's waist, then stated another fact that the sergeant already knew. “My mother died.”

“Did you love her?” Soap asked, looking into his eyes.

“Yes, I guess.” Ghost said emotionlessly, although in reality this simple question made him think. “From the bits I remember, we got along well. But I don't remember my childhood or her at all. Maybe she was a bad mother.”

Having said so many words at once, the demon fell silent, not letting Johnny out of his embrace. In fact, it was very difficult for him to imagine human criteria for a good or bad mother. Despite being half-human, there was much more demon in Ghost than there was human. He saw and felt everything differently, and this only complicated the situation.

“You know what?” Soap broke the silence, rubbing his scarred chin thoughtfully. “I think you should visit her.”

“If she's in heaven, that's going to be problematic.” Ghost replied impassively.

“What?” Johnny stared at him, completely understanding what he had heard. “Bloody hell, Lt., that's not what I meant! Not to her personally, but to her grave.”

“I'd better like to visit Tommy.” Ghost said with a bitter smile under his mask. “But the dead can't visit the living. So maybe it's not such a bad idea.”

Soap didn't like it when the lieutenant started talking about himself in that tone, but now he almost let it pass because he suddenly realized something very important. TF141 was now in the town of Fairford, not far from the RAF station of the same name where the plane had taken them. Due to a lack of helicopters at General Strickland's base, they would have to spend another two days here waiting for a free vehicle. And it was only about a hundred and sixty miles from Fairford to Manchester. Soap and Ghost could easily make the round trip in a single day if they rented a car.

“So, Simon?” asked MacTavish, who was already excited about his idea. “Do you want to go?”

“What's the difference?” Ghost shrugged. “Captain Price would never allow it anyway.”

“I'll take the captain!” The sergeant declared and began to get dressed quickly.

Price was not thrilled when the youngest of his sergeants literally burst into his room. 141 had been put up in a very average hotel, and the captain planned to take advantage of all its few amenities. But even if the members of the unit had absolutely nothing to do, technically the waiting time did not count as rest, so Price hid his dissatisfaction and prepared to postpone his plans just in case.

“Has something happened?” He suggested, looking at the overly excited sergeant.

“Negative!” Soap blurted out and then continued without pause. “Sir, allow me and Ghost to leave today!”

“When?” Price asked.

“For the whole day.” MacTavish replied. “Please, sir, it's very important!”

The captain realized that this was not going to work. He gave Soap, who seemed to have a stick up his ass, a stern look and spoke in a completely different tone, his commanding voice.

“Sergeant!” He barked. “Get out and come back in properly!”

“Aye, sir!” Soap automatically replied and disappeared from the room.

A couple of seconds later, he knocked on the door and, hearing permission to enter, did everything according to the statute, except that he shouted a little louder than the situation required.

“Permission to speak, sir!” Meanwhile, MacTavish had finished his speech with these words.

“There, that's better.” Price said with a smile. “Now, son, sit down and give me more information about your request.”

Soap did as he was ordered. He told him about his conversation with Simon and his offer to take him to Manchester to visit his mother's grave. Without exaggerating too much, he explained that it was very important to the lieutenant because he was upset by all the memories that were now coming back to him. Price didn't like any of this, but he understood that he had taken responsibility for Ghost and had to look after his welfare as well as that of the rest of his men.

“All right.” He finally said. “You can take him to Manchester, Sergeant, but go to the cemetery late at night. You can spend the night in town and come back tomorrow, but the Army won't reimburse you for that or for the car rental.”

“Thanks, cap, thanks!” MacTavish jumped up, unable to contain his emotions again. “I promise everything will be fine!”

Soap and Ghost left after lunch so they would arrive after dark. The lieutenant took the news as usual, with indifference. He quickly changed into civilian clothes, packed his bag, and stood in the sergeant's room for another twenty minutes while he rushed around trying to do the same. Only an hour after they left Fairford did Ghost turn his head toward Soap and break the silence.

“I think I could make the car move.” He said a strange phrase.

“You mean push it with your demonic telekinesis?” Johnny asked immediately, glancing at him.

“Negative.” Ghost shook his head. “I mean demonic remote control.”

Soap blinked in surprise, not even imagining that the lieutenant knew such words. But when he understood what he meant, his eyes lit up with excitement.

“Let's try it!” He exclaimed, starting to brake.

“Negative.” Ghost repeated and explained. “I can make the mechanisms move, but I don't yet know how much force to apply to each one, and I don't understand how to steer.”

“So you need practice?” Johnny asked, and seeing the lieutenant nod, he turned so sharply toward the neon sign pointing to the motel, restaurant, and gas station that the car skidded.

“Don't do that again.” Ghost said, glaring at Soap. “You could get hurt.”

“Aye, Lt.!” The sergeant replied cheerfully, turning into the gas station.

While Soap filled up the car, Ghost followed his instructions and went into the station to pay for the gas and buy two coffees, two buns, and a pack of his cigarettes. The lieutenant did an excellent job, and a few minutes later they were both sitting in the car in the gas station parking lot; Soap was smoking, drinking coffee, and chewing on a bun, while the second cup stood on the dashboard next to Ghost.

“Look, Lt., what about that red car at ten o'clock?” He asked.

The lieutenant turned his gaze in that direction, then glanced at Soap with what he thought was a disapproving look.

“Come on, Johnny.” He said and then added. “That's a fucking Tesla; how the hell am I supposed to know how it works?”

“Fucking hell!” Soap laughed. “Sorry, Lt., I didn't know you were such a pro! Then look at that silver BMW at two o'clock.”

“Roger.” Ghost nodded. “That one will do. Now be quiet and watch.”

Soap lit another cigarette and leaned back in his chair, his gaze indifferently glancing over the cars across the street. The lieutenant wasn't looking at the chosen car either, sitting with his shoulders slightly slumped and his head down. Nothing happened for a while, and then the BMW suddenly flashed its headlights brightly, and then its engine started and it lurched forward.

“That's it, Lt., enough!” Soap grabbed Ghost by the shoulder. “You didn't release the handbrake!”

The owner of the silver car was already running out of the café behind the gas station, and for a few minutes, both soldiers watched the drama unfold in front of them. Without waiting for the outcome, Soap accurately threw the crumpled coffee cups with cigarette butts inside into a trash can, then smoothly pulled out onto the highway and began to pick up speed.

They arrived at the cemetery when darkness had already fallen. The gates were still open, but Soap drove past and stopped at a blind turn where a tall metal fence was hidden by large trees. Parking between them, the sergeant and the lieutenant got out and approached the fence. Ghost helped Soap over it and then easily jumped over the nearly nine-foot barrier himself. The files Price had found contained the coordinates of the Riley family graves, so they didn't have to search blindly. The lieutenant could see perfectly in the darkness and spotted the place they were looking for first, heading straight for them.

There were two gravestones. Ghost vaguely remembered that his father was a real scumbag who died in prison, and his mother didn't claim the body. That was why he wasn't here. One of the marble slabs was newer, and the photo on it showed a pretty blonde woman of advanced age; she was smiling, but there was sadness lurking in her brown eyes. Ghost stood in front of his mother's grave for a long time, trying to feel the grief that a human would feel, but it seemed he couldn't. He moved on to the second grave, crouched down beside it, and touched the slab with his fingers. There was no photo, only a name: Simon Riley. Johnny glanced at the date of birth and the question mark in place of the date of death and at the inscription ‘Beloved Son, Brother, and Uncle’. He wanted to say something, but suddenly both soldiers heard the crack of a branch under someone's foot. Ghost jumped up and turned around, pushing Soap behind him, but in front of them stood a young man in civilian clothes who looked very surprised to see people here.

“Listen, if you're here with bad intentions, I've got a gun!” The stranger warned, trying to look confident. “What are you doing at my uncle’s and mother's graves?”

As was often the case, Soap's mouth reacted faster than his brain, and he exclaimed in surprise:

“Are you Joseph Riley?”

“Yes.” The young man replied cautiously, rubbing the back of his head, and his face brightened. “So you two are military, right? Did you know my uncle Simon?”

“Yes.” Ghost replied unexpectedly before Soap could think of anything to say. “I... served with him.”

“Well, it's nice to meet you.” Joseph smiled and held out his hand.

“Lieutenant Thomas Ryan." Ghost introduced himself, shaking her hand. “And this is my partner, Sergeant John MacTavish.”

“Do you remember your uncle well?” Soap asked, finishing the formalities of introduction.

“Not as well as I'd like.” Joseph shook his head, then smiled unexpectedly. "What I know for sure is that I became a pilot because of him. Here, look!”

He pulled some keys out of his jacket pocket, with a small toy airplane hanging from the key ring.

“Uncle Simon gave it to me just before he disappeared.” Joseph said quietly and handed the keys to Ghost. “I said something about wanting to be a pilot, and he looked at me seriously and asked if I was sure, because it's not an easy job.”

Ghost listened, thoughtfully twirling the toy airplane between his fingers. Joseph's words and appearance brought back memories, and he could see everything he had described as if it had happened a second ago.

“And now this plane protects the keys to my plane and helo.” Joseph continued proudly. “I'd like to believe Uncle Simon would have been proud of me.”

“I'm sure he would.” Ghost said hoarsely, and then held out his hand, returning the keys.

“Thank you for your words, Lieutenant Ryan.” Joseph smiled, looked at Simon Riley's mother's grave, and sighed quietly. "My grandma believed until the very end that he would return. Even when he was officially declared dead and a funeral was arranged. But let's not talk about sad things. Maybe you can tell me something about him, Lieutenant?"

Ghost remained silent, and Soap came to his aid. He glanced at his watch and said it was time to go, apologized to Joseph, and pulled the lieutenant away. They left the cemetery the same way they had entered, got into the car, and MacTavish drove as fast as he could to the hotel where he had booked a room before leaving.

Entering the room, Ghost took a few steps and stopped in the middle. Despite his usual behavior, Soap understood that he was stunned by what he had seen and heard, so he quickly closed the door, turned on the light, and, walking around the lieutenant, hugged him tightly.

“Are you feeling sad?” He asked gently. “Hurt?”

“Yes.” Ghost replied after thinking for a moment. “I mean, I understand that I should be sad and hurt, but...”

“I understand.” Johnny nodded and tilted his head back to look into his eyes. “I don't want you to be sad. Will you let me do something to make you feel better?”

Ghost should probably have asked what exactly. However, he trusted Soap and understood that he was better at understanding human feelings and therefore knew better what he could do to help. So he nodded silently in response to the question and closed his eyes. Almost immediately, he felt Soap's hands slip under his black hoodie and touch his bare back beneath it. Warm palms stroked his lifeless skin, fingers felt the scars, and Johnny's eyes grew sad. He was a professional and could imagine the wounds that had covered the lieutenant's back before turning into ugly, jagged marks. The relief of the muscles was too deep for a human, but Soap had already seen the demon's fingers and touched his face, so he understood how his body was built. He probably had no body fat at all, because he didn't need it to function or be comfortable.

“Sit down, please.” Johnny asked, rubbing his whole body against the motionless demon.

Ghost did so, sitting down on the bed, which creaked pitifully, and Soap knelt between his spread legs and reached for the belt of his jeans. He unbuttoned them slowly, giving the lieutenant a chance to stop him, but he didn't, just staring intently at his sergeant. So Soap reached his underwear unhindered and ran his fingers over his cock, feeling its hardness. It seemed that despite the absence of a heartbeat, blood flow in the demon's body still occurred through some other forces, and that was encouraging.

“Will you let me?” Soap asked quietly and gently pulled down the elastic of Ghost's boxers.

The demon nodded. His powerful body trembled with excitement, which he felt for the first time in all the years of his afterlife. He wanted Johnny; he wanted him to do something, anything to make him feel better. And Johnny didn't let him down. He deftly pulled out Ghost's now fully erect cock, ran his fingers along it, and then whistled.

“I thought your scythe was a deadly weapon, but now I see you have something even more deadly.” He exclaimed cheerfully, holding the demon's cock, which was quite proportional to his body size, with both hands. “But don't worry; I know how to handle large calibers.”

Ghost had enough humanity to understand the joke, and he growled softly with impatience. His long fingers clenched his tousled mohawk, and Soap, understanding the hint, slowly licked the tip of the demon's cock, which was the same pale gray color as the skin on his hands.

The taste was unusual. Licking a drop of the smoky liquid from the tip of the “deadly weapon,” Soap felt something familiar, but from a different realm: something like ash, gunpowder, metal, and perhaps napalm or some other combustible mixture.

“Bloody Jesus, Simon.” Johnny exhaled, raising his eyes to him, shining with excitement. “This is perfect. You're perfect, you hear me?”

Without waiting for a response, Soap leaned forward again and tried to take as much of Ghost's cock into his mouth as he could. He caressed the rest with his hands, feeling the absolute smoothness of the hot skin, and wondered, at a very inopportune moment, if Ghost had any hair on his head. However, Johnny didn't think about it for long; he heard the demon's very deep, quiet moan, as inhuman as it was desirable. At the sound, Soap's own cock began to harden, and without breaking away from his task, he lowered one hand and squeezed himself through his jeans.

“Take your hand away, Johnny.” Ghost said in an unexpectedly commanding tone, and Soap trembled and gasped without removing his cock from his mouth.

He obediently removed his hand, clinging to the lieutenant's thigh with his fingers and continuing to work with his tongue and lips. His own arousal became painful, but he didn't care, not now, when something as powerful as a real demon, a devourer of souls, was trembling beneath his caresses. Johnny couldn't resist the temptation to look up at Ghost, or rather Simon, from time to time. He had never seen a demon like this before; even though he was still dressed and wearing a mask, Soap felt that he was vulnerable now, and it filled his heart with an uncharacteristic tenderness.

“That's right, my dear.” He murmured, looking into the lieutenant's wide-open eyes. “It feels good, doesn't it?”

It was strange to hear moans but no breathing, but Soap didn't focus on that. He quickened the movements of his hands and tongue, and at one point, Ghost jerked his head back by the hair and pressed his cheek against his knee. Johnny wanted to protest, to rebel, but he quickly realized why Ghost had done it. Under the warm, insistent human hands, the demon came with a half-moan, half-growl, and his semen was black, just like his blood. The thick liquid, drops of which fell on Johnny's face, was hot and smelled strange, like some kind of combustible mixture. Watching greedily as Ghost's burly body shook with pleasure, Soap couldn't help thinking that maybe the demon's semen would catch fire if he held a flame to it, and hastily pulled his own cock out of his pants. From the sight of Ghost's pleasure and a few quick movements of his hand, he also came, pressing his cheek against his lieutenant's thigh.

The demon's fingers unclenched, releasing Johnny's mohawk, and he leaned back, falling onto the bed. Smiling triumphantly, the sergeant brought a wet towel and cleaned up Ghost and himself first, then the floor, carefully destroying all traces of what had happened. While he went to the bathroom, the lieutenant pulled up his jeans and buttoned them but was in no hurry to get up. He felt good, perhaps truly good for the first time since he had realized his new nature. Of course, he had felt pleasant sensations before, such as when he devoured souls or killed enemies. But that pleasure was demonic, while this, brought by Johnny's skilled hands and mouth, was human and therefore much more valuable. It allowed the demon to remember the other half of his essence. Half of his blood still belonged to a human, Simon Riley, who had a family that had not forgotten him and had not stopped loving him. He also had Johnny, who cared for him and even protected him as if Ghost were not a supernatural creature but just a human like MacTavish. And as long as these people were still somewhere nearby, Ghost knew that his human blood would never stop calling to him and would not allow him to turn into something else, something he had fought against not so long ago on an abandoned construction site.

“Hey, Lt.!” Soap came out of the bathroom wearing only his boxers and, approaching the bed, crouched down and began to untie Ghost's boots. “How are you feeling now?”

“Good.” The lieutenant replied. “Very good, Johnny.”

Soap smiled, pulled off his shoes, and hurried to dive under the blanket. Ghost, as always, turned off the light and lay down next to him, hugging him and pressing him to his chest. MacTavish was slowly drifting off to sleep when suddenly a thought brought him back to reality, and he exclaimed:

“Listen, Lt., if you can move a car with your own superpowers, then you understand how it works and can drive it like a human being!”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Ghost muttered in reply and added. “Go to sleep, Johnny.”

The sergeant snorted cheerfully but didn't argue, and a few minutes later he was fast asleep.

[darth-mortem]

The 12th part of my demon!Ghost AU. TF141 leaves for his next mission so quickly that Soap doesn't have time to talk to Ghost about what happened between them. And this time, the unit encounters something that it may not be able to handle.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

Battle, secrets, hurt/comfort. 3254 words.

“Something's wrong here.” Ghost said as soon as the unit stepped onto the long-abandoned construction site located in the middle of a large wasteland.

“What exactly, Lieutenant?” Price asked, looking around carefully.

“I don't know.” The demon shook his head. “Better stay behind me.”

The soldiers regrouped and slowly moved forward, keeping their weapons at the ready. Grotesque structures towered around them, which would have served as entertainment and brought joy if the developer hadn't gone bankrupt and construction of a huge new amusement park hadn't been halted. Now this place was falling into disrepair, visible from the highway as a huge monument to the fragility of human ambition. 141 had been sent here because of a report of suspicious activity, which was more likely to be related to terrorism than to gangs or drug trafficking.

You can keep reading here or on the Ao3

To Soap, who was walking right behind Ghost, everything seemed unreal. The scorching midday sun made the shadows disappear; the hot wind blew dust and fine sand into the air. The footsteps of the four humans and one demon sounded unbearably loud: plastic and glass shards crunched underfoot, no matter how hard the soldiers tried to tread silently. The heat made the air shimmer, and the unfinished structures in the distance seemed to move and change shape along with it. Soap shook his head, trying to shake off this strange delusion, but it didn't help. Then he looked around and saw that his comrades seemed to be feeling the same way.

MacTavish wanted to say that there was no one here. They had been given the wrong information and had come here in vain. While they were wandering around this unfinished monster, real terrorists were out there somewhere. But for some reason, he didn't dare say it out loud, breaking the eerie, unreal silence that reigned in this place.

The unit came out onto what should have been a square in front of a long L-shaped building. Most likely, a food court or shopping center was planned here, because the window openings were huge. The building had two floors, but in one part of it, supporting columns for a third floor were already in place, and in the other part, the upper floor was beginning to collapse. In front of all this was a lot of construction debris, in the middle of which stood what had once been a beautiful fountain but was never destined to be filled with water. Looking at it, Soap felt his throat go dry and swallowed loudly, trying to get rid of the bitter lump of dust and rust that had settled there.

Ghost looked back, and Price gestured for them to move on, toward the building. Inside, it would be quite possible to set up a temporary base, a laboratory for manufacturing explosives, or something similar. A large area, numerous service corridors and rooms, and probably an underground floor: it all seemed to have been created to conceal illegal activities. Looking around intently, the soldiers slowly moved forward, but before they even reached the fountain, they heard the sound of concrete crumbling and small stones shifting under someone's heavy footsteps. All five of them raised their weapons and froze, because what they saw on the roof of the second floor of the building was not a human being.

This creature resembled Ghost in some ways, for example, in the bizarre tactical clothing and equipment it wore and the red coals in his eyes, from which streams of crimson smoke rose, flowing like tears, but not down, but up. His skin was completely gray, without a hint of human color, like Ghost's; his head was crowned with massive horns, and behind his back were huge black wings that fluttered slightly in the wind.

“You pathetic half-breed.” The creature croaked in a completely inhuman voice, looking at Ghost. “You received a priceless gift from our Lord, and you waste it on this? You make me sick, you pitiful half-demon; you aren't even worthy of being what you are. But before I deal with you, I will show your mortal friends what true hell is!”

“Before you touch them, you'll have to get past me!” Ghost roared in an equally terrifying and inhuman voice, then threw down his rifle and unexpectedly leaped onto the roof of the building with ease, pulling his scythe from behind his back, which instantly became enormous, with a long blade shrouded in crimson mist.

“So be it.” Replied the horned creature, pulling a dagger from its belt, which also lengthened, turning into a terrifying sword, on the blade of which unknown sinister symbols glowed with a rotten green light.

“Fucking hell...” Soap said, expressing the feelings of the entire unit, and then the two demons up there collided in battle.

The movements of the two creatures were unnaturally fast, and the humans could only see the flashes of their weapons colliding with a loud clang. For a few minutes, it seemed that the opponents were evenly matched: they attacked and defended, not slowing down to go back on the offensive, and this spectacle seemed to mesmerize the members of 141. And then something terrible happened. Another swing of the demonic sword was not parried by the scythe; the greenish blade repelled the crimson one and easily cut through the armor on Ghost's chest and, apparently, his flesh as well, because he recoiled and bent over, pressing his palm to the wound. The triumphant laughter of the horned demon echoed across the unfinished park, and it shook Soap out of his stupor.

“We have to help him!” He shouted, ignoring the captain's orders and rushing toward the building.

Cursing, Price and the rest hurried after him.

Ghost didn't see this. Recovering from the damage he had suffered, he rejoined the fight, but now he moved more cautiously, defending himself more and retreating, not risking another attack. Black blood flowed from his wound, and with it, his strength left his body. His opponent seemed to understand this perfectly and now played with him like a predator with its prey. He inflicted several more wounds on Ghost, then spread his huge wings, took to the air, and swooped down on him, knocking him off his feet. The scythe fell from its owner's hands and flew away; Ghost twitched, trying to roll over and get up, but his opponent's huge foot slammed into his chest, pinning him to the sun-baked concrete.

“You're finished, half-breed!” The horned demon roared triumphantly and raised his sword over Ghost.

He closed his eyes, knowing it was true. Now this monster would cut his body to pieces, and then he would go after the people who had become dear to him, and he couldn't do anything about it, because half-breeds were always weaker than pure-blooded demons like his enemy. Ghost waited for the new pain that would be his last, but something completely different happened.

“Get away from him, you bitch!” Soap's furious voice rang out, followed immediately by the sound of a shot, but not from an assault rifle, but from a six-shot RBG-6 grenade launcher, several of which had recently arrived at General Strickland's base as experimental weapons.

The grenade did not harm the horned creature, but it knocked him off balance. He staggered, and Soap continued to press the trigger, moving forward, and with each hit, the enemy demon retreated, unable to concentrate and counter the sudden attack from the mortal he didn’t consider an enemy. The last, sixth shot was almost point-blank, and it knocked the horned creature off the roof.

Soap stopped. His heart was pounding and his hands were shaking so much that he couldn't reload his weapon. Price, Garrick, and Sanderson approached, their fingers on the triggers of their underbarrel grenade launchers. Ghost lay motionless, bleeding black, and appeared to be dead, but then he stirred, growled with effort, and rose to his feet. He reached out, and his scythe flew through the air, landing in his outstretched palm. Then Ghost walked to the edge of the building and jumped down, landing where his enemy had fallen a few moments earlier.

Humans rushed to the edge, just in time to see the crimson blade of the scythe pierce the horned creature's chest where a heart would have been. The monster let out such a bloodcurdling half-cry, half-roar that the ground shook and cracks appeared in the concrete, and then a greenish mist rose from the wound on its chest and stretched toward Ghost. It was similar to his usual soul-devouring, but slightly different. Usually, the white clouds were quickly absorbed into the lieutenant's body, but not this time. The rotten green glow stretched slowly, as if reluctantly; Ghost leaned forward, clenching his fists, and it was clear that devouring this substance was difficult for him. Soap thought he heard the lieutenant's anguished groan, but then the greenish mist flowed faster, and the terrible wounds closed, as did the cuts on Ghost's equipment. He straightened up, then his fingers unclenched, the scythe fell, immediately shrinking, and the demon himself—the only one left alive—collapsed heavily to its knees.

The remaining 141 were already running down, and at that moment Soap was the first who dashed out of the building, jumped up to Ghost, supported him, hugged him, and also kneeled down and prevented him from falling. The lieutenant's eyes glowed an unpleasant green color for a moment before gradually turning red again. His burly body shook, and he made sounds like hoarse, labored breathing.

“Lt.!” Soap called out, alarmed, even frightened. “Are you broken, Lt.? Please, talk to me!”

“I... I'm solid.” Ghost said hoarsely, but instead of trying to stand up, he just sat down on the sand.

“What the hell was that?” Price asked, frowning, and kicked the corpse of the horned creature, which had already begun to decompose as fast as if it had been doused with acid.

“That was a demon.” Ghost replied, looking up at the captain. “Something that was never human, unlike me. He is a true spawn of hell. That is his strength, but also his weakness.”

“Weakness?” Roach raised an eyebrow skeptically and shook his head. “What the fuck weakness does he have?”

“He didn't know we would come to our demon's aid.” Johnny replied quietly instead of Ghost, still sitting next to him and holding his shoulders. “He simply didn't have that option in his ugly horned head.”

“Yes.” Ghost nodded and leaned wearily against MacTavish, resting his head on his shoulder.

“Wait, wait, Lieutenant!” Gaz frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “What do you mean, ‘he was never human, unlike me’? Were you human and then became a demon? Why didn't you ever tell us? And what did you do to cause such a... um... transformation?”

“I died.” Ghost replied grimly, burning Garrick with his eyes, which were still glowing red.

“Okay, lads, we'll discuss this later.” Price interrupted, spitting as he watched what was left of the horned creature scatter like ash in the wind. “Soap, you stay here with Ghost. Roach, Gaz, you come with me. We'll search the building and maybe find what we're here for. Or something else, like some fucking explanation as to why this horned bastard crossed our path.”

“Aye, sir!” The three sergeants replied in unison, then two of them left with the captain, while one remained with the lieutenant, hugging him and slowly stroking his head.

As soon as his three comrades were out of sight, Soap pulled Ghost closer and touched his temple with his lips through the mask.

“How are you, Simon?” He asked. “Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.” Ghost shook his head. “But devouring a soul like this one is... unpleasant. It will give me more power in the future, but right now I feel weak. I don't like it.”

“The important thing is that you're alive.” Soap said. “You have no idea how scared I was when that bastard was holding his bloody sword over you.”

“You saved me, Johnny.” The lieutenant said, raising his hand and touching his sergeant's cheek with his fingertips. “Thank you.”

“You've saved me more than once, so you don't have to thank me.” Soap shook his head and sighed quietly. “Do you think if I help you, you can make it to the building? It's getting damn hot here, and we can hide from the sun there.”

“I can.” Ghost said confidently.

Leaning on Soap's shoulder, he got to his feet, and they slowly walked toward the building. By this point, nothing remained of the horned monster except a dark stain on the sand.

Considering everything that had happened, it was almost unbelievable, but Price, Garrick, and Sanderson still found something in the unfinished basement of the building. It looked like some kind of temporary base that had been dismantled so quickly that they hadn't cleaned up properly. 141 found the remains of charred sheets of paper, fragments of videotape, and shards of glassware that looked like laboratory equipment. Price ordered everything to be carefully packed for later analysis by Laswell and her experts, but some conclusions could be drawn right away.

“This is written in russian.” The captain said, examining one of the most intact sheets of paper. “Hey, Lieutenant, you don't happen to speak every language in the world or something, do you?”

“Negative.” Ghost shook his head and waved vaguely toward the exit of the building. “He spoke.”

“Speaking of him.” Roach said, sitting down on the steps a little lower than the lieutenant. “Was he here because he was working with those russian bastards, or did he just want to destroy our superweapon?”

“One doesn't preclude the other.” Gaz shook his head. “Maybe they found out about Ghost and left that horned bastard to deprive us of the advantage he gave.”

“Stop talking as if Ghost isn't here.” Johnny interrupted them angrily. “He's not a weapon, he's one of us, so show some respect!”

“Soap's right.” Price unexpectedly supported MacTavish and gently squeezed Ghost's shoulder. “Roach, Gaz, go and check the area we haven't searched yet. I don't think we'll find anything else here, but that's what we're here for, so the sooner we finish, the sooner we can get out of there.”

The two sergeants reluctantly got up, checked their radios, grabbed their weapons, and went back out into the scorching sun. Ghost watched them go, paused for a moment, and then said quietly:

“There are ways to summon such creatures from hell. Certain... rituals. But they are difficult to control. It is impossible to negotiate with them as you would with someone like me. They are completely different and incapable of understanding humans with their feelings, motivations, and values.”

“So there's a chance this bastard won't be the only one.” Price frowned and took a cigar from the pocket of his tactical vest.

“Yes.” Ghost nodded. “But now part of him is in me, and I can deal with them.”

“This calms me down.” The captain smiled grimly, patting his pockets for a lighter.

Ghost watched him closely for a few seconds and then pointed his finger at him, a flame appearing at the tip. Price leaned forward, lit his cigar, and the smile on his face became more cheerful.

“Thanks, Lieutenant.” He said and leaned his back against the cool concrete wall.

Soap, who was sitting next to Ghost, smiled too and rested his head on his shoulder. For a while, the three sat in silence, then the lieutenant stirred, straightened his shoulders, and stood up. After standing for a few seconds, he descended the stairs and paced back and forth across the large room under the watchful eyes of the captain and sergeant.

“How are you feeling, lad?” Price asked, noting to himself that now, knowing what he knew about Ghost, it was easier to think of him as just another person.

“Solid.” The lieutenant replied in his usual emotionless voice, and Johnny, catching his eye, gave him a thumbs-up.

As Price had expected, nothing else was found at the unfinished site. Gaz and Roach searched it thoroughly, checking even the smallest buildings, and returned to their comrades. After their report, the captain rightly decided that there was nothing more to do here and called for an exfil. Soon, 141 was already boarding the helicopter. They were to meet Laswell at the local base and personally hand over all their findings to her, after which the C-17 would take them to the UK. Price would coordinate the route from the military airfield to the base with General Strickland once they arrived.

Laswell met 141 in one of the briefing rooms, where coffee and sandwiches awaited the soldiers, along with a powerful anti-eavesdropping system. While the three sergeants were busy eating and the lieutenant, as usual, sat motionless in the corner of the room, Price recounted everything that had happened at the facility and passed on the clues he had found about the russians' presence there. The latter would have to undergo thorough expertise, so Laswell put them aside for the moment and, frowning, began to ask more detailed questions about the unit's encounter with another supernatural creature. It was Ghost's turn to answer, and although he was as impassive as ever, Soap felt that he was speaking with some reluctance. Laswell was unaware of his past, although she guessed that Price's previous searches were related to him. That was why it was difficult for the lieutenant to explain the difference between him and the demon he had destroyed without revealing all the details, and he was very reluctant to do so. Sergeant Garrick had already started asking questions, and Ghost was prepared to accept that he would have to tell him and Sergeant Sanderson something about himself, but he did not want to share this information with Laswell. She was trustworthy; the lieutenant had no doubt about that. But she was not as close to him as the members of 141, so he did not feel comfortable discussing things that had become too personal for him after he began to remember his human life.

Fortunately, Laswell didn't ask many questions. She was more interested in the likelihood of encountering another demon than in the nuances of the hellish hierarchy. So Ghost just repeated what he had already told his comrades, and that was the end of the conversation with him.

“Well, we'll find out more when we get the translation of the surviving papers and the analysis of the glass fragments you found.” Laswell summed up. "Maybe we'll find traces of some substances or biological material on them. I'll contact you as soon as I get the results, but for now, get some rest. Your flight is in two hours." Laswell left, and the members of 141 remained in the briefing room. It wasn't the most comfortable place to rest, but they were used to it, so everyone settled down as best they could. For a while, Soap, Roach, and Gaz exchanged lazy words, but the conversation didn't flow, and then Gary sprawled out on the chairs pushed together and dozed off. Kyle followed his example, resting his head on his arms crossed on the table. Johnny didn't want to sleep yet, so he took out his diary and, judging by the movements of his pencil, began to draw something. Price smoked a cigar, analyzing all the events of the day. Ghost, as always, sat motionless, and only he knew what was on his mind.

[darth-mortem]

Hello there👋

[darth-mortem]

Yesterday, me and lil Ghost and Soap went for a walk and to a restaurant😌

[darth-mortem]

The 11th part of my demon!Ghost AU. Something has changed in the relationship between Ghost and Soap, and even Gaz and Roach have noticed it. Meanwhile, Price has finally obtained some information about the demon's mysterious past, and now he has to decide how to reveal it.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10

Angst, hurt/comfort, love. 3450 words.

A week has passed since Ghost and Soap's trip to the town, and something has changed between them. At first glance, everything seemed to be the same as before, but now MacTavish appeared even more often in the company of his lieutenant and always stayed very close to him. Gaz and Roach noticed more than once that Ghost's hand now often rested on Soap's shoulder, who in turn often touched the demon's hand during conversations, even when it was completely unnecessary.

“Are you crushing on him, bro?” Kyle asked once.

“It's none of your business, bro.” Soap replied angrily and hurried away in an unknown direction.

It wasn't that he was ashamed of his feelings or considered them unacceptable, given the nature of the object of his affection; he just didn't want his friends to pick on Ghost. Who knows how the demon would react to someone invading his personal space?

That morning, right after the unit had breakfast and Roach carried the empty plates to the canteen, Soap lingered in the break room. When everyone left, he stayed there for a few more minutes and then headed for Ghost's room.

You can keep reading here or on the Ao3

“Hey, Lt.!” He exclaimed cheerfully as he entered with a cup in his hand. “I brought you some tea, and I want you to try it right now!”

With that, he placed the cup on the windowsill and crouched down next to the box of kittens. They had grown a little and were starting to crawl and squeak, and Soap watched them, thinking of suitable names. He gently stroked the kittens with his fingertips and didn't look at Ghost, who had moved away to the locker and, with his back to him, rustled his mask. Taking it off, he put his hood back on, then raised the cup to his lips, and Soap heard him take a sip.

“Well, how is it?” He asked impatiently, pulling his hand away from the thin claws of one of the black kittens.

“It's... delicious.” Ghost replied with rare surprise in his voice. “What is it?”

“Very strong tea with a lot of sugar.” Soap replied contentedly, having brewed all the tea bags in the break room and poured half the sugar bowl into the cup.

The lieutenant drank his tea slowly, while the sergeant continued to play with the kittens, thinking aloud about what to name them. He named the black one, which was constantly hissing and trying to scratch him, Aggressor. He named the calmest tabby, which he thought was a girl, Bonnie. When Ghost finished his tea, he put on his mask, took the other three kittens in his large palm, and Johnny looked at them, continuing to think about the names.

At the same time, Price was walking from his office to 141’s residential block, holding several folders with some documents in his hand. He wasn’t hurrying up, thinking about the best way to tell the lieutenant what he had found out about several men named Simon who had died twenty years ago within a certain period of time. The captain took the demon's request seriously and spent a lot of time sending inquiries and negotiating with various people and authorities, using all his influence, including Laswell. Perhaps Ghost would turn out to be one of these Simons, or perhaps not. It was also impossible to rule out the possibility that the demon would not remember anything at all, even if he received certain information. And if he did remember, would it be for the better? Price did not know, and with these doubts, he knocked on the lieutenant's door and entered, seeing the scene described above.

“What is this?” He couldn't think of anything better than to ask sternly, looking at the kittens in Ghost's palm.

“There are kittens, Captain Price.” The lieutenant replied, and if anyone else had said it, one might have thought he was mocking him.

“What are they doing here?” The captain asked another question as calmly as possible.

“They live here until they are old enough to live somewhere else.” The demon explained and carefully put the kittens back in the box, removing them from his palm with two fingers. “Johnny gives them names.”

“Okay, I don't want to know.” Price decided and waved the folders he was holding in his hand. “I have something to discuss with you, Lieutenant. I think you'd better sit down before you hear it.”

Ghost obediently sank into his armchair. Soap pulled up an office chair for the captain and sat down on the floor at the lieutenant's feet, crossing his legs to indicate that he wanted to be present during the conversation.

“So, Simon number one.” Price opened the first folder, took out a photo, and handed it to the demon. "Simon James Hudson. Australian. Traveler. Had a wife and two children, the youngest of whom, a boy, is named Thomas. He disappeared without a trace during a solo expedition to the deserted Australian outback. The timing matches."

Ghost stared thoughtfully at the photo, listening to the captain's story, and then shook his head silently. Neither Simon Hudson's face nor the details of his life evoked any response in his memory.

“Simon number two.” Price continued, handing him a photo from the second folder. "Simon Stern, an American of German descent. Military reporter, unmarried, no matches for Thomas. He was initially reported M.I.A. in the Middle East, where he was covering a military conflict, the details of which are classified for now, but his body was later found in a POW camp, the cause of death being extensive torture."

When torture was mentioned, images flashed through Ghost's mind, but they disappeared just as quickly. The face in the photo also bore no resemblance to what he saw in the mirror when he took off his mask while alone. So the lieutenant shook his head and handed the photo back to the captain.

“Simon number three.” Price opened the penultimate folder and handed the photo to Ghost. “Simon Riley. English. Served in the SAS. Had a mother and a younger brother, Thomas, who has a family—a wife and son...”

“Joseph.” Ghost interrupted in a suddenly quiet and confused voice, and the photo fell from his hands. “Little Joe loves to play with airplanes.”

Soap stared wide-eyed at the photo that had fallen beside him and then at the lieutenant, who seemed to be moments away from revealing the secret of his life. Price paused for a few seconds and then continued.

“Simon Riley M.I.A. in Mexico. The last thing anyone heard from him was that he was tracking the Zaragoza cartel and was captured, never to be seen again. Neither his body nor the place of his death was ever found, so his family erected a cenotaph in a Manchester cemetery. Lieutenant?”

“Yes?” Ghost looked at Price, and he realized that the demon was completely shocked by all this information.

“Thomas Riley and his family are still alive.” The captain said. “Joseph is now twenty-six. He is a hired pilot who flies various rich people around in their private jets and also works part-time in the film industry. And one more thing... the head of the cartel, Manuel Roba, is still alive too.”

Ghost froze, staring past Price. The captain had another folder, but it was clear that it wouldn't be needed. Glancing at Soap, he stood up and placed the information about Simon Riley on the chair.

“Let's go, son.” Price said. “He needs to think about all this.”

Johnny wanted to stay, but he didn't argue and left the room with the captain. Ghost didn't seem to notice. He continued to sit motionless, staring at one spot, then grabbed the documents left behind and began leafing through them.

Ghost remembered—not everything, no. Random images flashed before his eyes like scenes from a movie that he couldn't watch from beginning to end. He felt terrible pain from the large meat hook that pierced his body, entering between his ribs, and heard the echoes of evil laughter and insulting words from the people crowded around him. Their faces were blurred, all except one—round, shiny with sweat and grease, with small glass eyes that expressed nothing but contempt and arrogance. Manuel Roba, Ghost remembered this name from the file in the folder. Manuel Roba, head of the Zaragoza cartel, jailer and executioner of Simon Riley, who had fallen into his hands alive.

Then completely different images appeared in the demon's mind. His younger brother Tommy, who had fallen in with a bad crowd but whom he had managed to pull out of that mess. Here he is bringing home a young red-haired girl, Elizabeth. He met her in a group of anonymous drug addicts and is going to propose to her. Ghost remembered a small, modest wedding attended only by his mother, Tommy, himself, and a few friends from the same group. During the celebration, Beth announced that she was pregnant, and everyone congratulated her and Tommy on the happy event.

The next episodes took Ghost back to Mexico. He felt himself chained to a cold metal table, and an executioner leaning over him slowly cut open his chest. Roba stood nearby and said something, but Simon Riley couldn't understand his words because of the pain and fear. Then he saw himself in a small, dark cell with no windows; he was lying there, exhausted from the torture he had endured and the drugs he had been given, his clothes lying on the stone floor next to his thin, smelly mattress, and someone, perhaps Roba, was standing over him, buttoning his pants. Ghost felt the humiliation, pain, and shame of the unfortunate Simon Riley, and his powerful body shook from these memories.

Ghost was transported to another place: a small, cozy apartment in Manchester. He had come there to visit, and a little blond boy ran out to greet him. He picked him up and twirled him around in the air to the cheerful laughter of Tommy and Beth, who were watching. Simon Riley took a small toy airplane out of his pocket, and the boy, Joseph, happily grabbed it and ran off to play.

Then the demon's memories were once again engulfed by darkness. It was filled with stench, the smell of rotten meat, and the endless movement of hundreds of maggots writhing around, crawling over his still-living body and the dead body on which he was lying. The ghost heard the unbearably loud sound of earth falling on the lid of the coffin in which he had been nailed shut; he felt a mad fear that made him scream, cry, and struggle in the coffin, and then suffocation that grew stronger and stronger until his deranged consciousness didn’t completely fade away.

However, the memories didn’t end there. Ghost remembered hanging in the cold emptiness for what seemed like a second, or perhaps an eternity, until he heard a deep, terrifying voice that seemed to come from all sides at once.

“Do you want to live?” It asked. “Do you want revenge?”

“Yes.” Came the barely audible reply, no longer from Simon Riley, but not yet from Ghost.

“You will return.” The voice continued. “You will live by taking the lives of others. And you will bring me many sweet souls in exchange for your new life.”

“Yes.” He whispered again, repeating it louder and louder until darkness surrounded him once more, and then...

Then he opened his eyes and found himself in the middle of the desert, just as he was now—clad in demonic armor, with no memory of who he had been before, but with a wealth of knowledge about himself, his abilities, and characteristics, as well as a small amount of information about the world he found himself in and the people who inhabited it. He spent some time where he was, and then people appeared, and their leader, introducing himself as Colonel Albright, offered Ghost another deal.

The lieutenant did not show up for lunch or dinner, and if this surprised Roach or Gaz, they wisely kept quiet. Price and MacTavish exchanged glances, and after dinner, the captain quietly ordered Soap to go and check if everything was all right with their unusual comrade-in-arms. Johnny was going to do it himself, so he made Ghost some cocoa, pouring almost half a can into a cup, and went to his room.

No one answered his knock. Soap knocked again for good measure, then cautiously peered inside and entered. The room was dark, but the sergeant could make out the silhouette of the demon's stocky figure in his armchair.

“Lt.?” He asked cautiously, and when he received no answer, he tried again. “Simon?”

“Yes, Johnny?” Soap heard and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Can I turn on the light?” He asked another question and, hearing an affirmative answer, flipped the switch. “I brought you some cocoa. Here, try it.”

Ghost stirred and reluctantly got up, took the cup, and walked over to the locker. Johnny sat down with his back to him and heard the familiar rustle of the mask being removed.

“Is it that bad?” He asked.

“Yes.” Ghost replied, and this time his usual emotionlessness cracked, and his voice sounded weary and somehow broken. “You have no idea what they did to me, Johnny.”

Soap stood up, walked over to the lieutenant, whose head was hidden by a hood, and hugged him tightly from behind, pressing his forehead between his shoulder blades.

“You can talk with me about this anytime you want.” He said. “Now finish your cocoa, and let's go.”

“Where?” Ghost asked.

“To my room.” Soap replied as if it should have been obvious. “You shouldn't be alone with all this, and I can't sit up all night.”

The lieutenant didn't argue. He finished his cocoa, which turned out to be even tastier than tea, and put on his mask. Johnny, meanwhile, checked on the kittens sleeping with their mother, then took Ghost by the hand and led him to his room.

“Take off your boots, please.” Johnny asked and began to undress.

Ghost watched as he took off his hoodie, T-shirt, and pants, pulled off his socks, and climbed into bed in his boxers, moving as far as possible toward the wall to make room for the huge demon. Then the lieutenant took off his boots and gloves and turned off the light before carefully lying down next to him. Johnny's arms wrapped around his neck and pulled him closer so that Ghost's head was on his chest. Soap stroked the back of his head, and then the demon felt his fingers under the mask: they gently touched his neck, stroked the ugly scar around it, and moved higher, up to his face.

“Can I ask you something?” Johnny whispered.

“Yes.” Ghost replied, not even trying to pull away from the caress.

“Are you the same as in the photo?” Soap asked and smiled into the darkness of the room. “You're handsome.”

“No, Johnny.” The demon shook his head weakly. “I'm not like in the photo. I've changed. My whole body has changed.”

“I'm sure you're still very handsome.” MacTavish declared, displaying his trademark stubbornness. “Maybe someday you'll let me see for myself, Simon... I can call you Simon when we're alone, can't I?”

“Yes.” Ghost allowed.

He could no longer associate himself with that name, but he knew it had belonged to him before. He and Simon had shared one life: one family, one joy, and one suffering. Then Simon died in terrible agony, and Ghost was born. And Ghost was unexpectedly pleased when Johnny, whom he liked very much, called him Simon. It made him feel less like a demon and more like a human being, even if only in his imagination.

“We'll get through this, won't we?” Soap spoke again, continuing to stroke Ghost's head and face. “Whatever happens, I'm with you, copy that?”

“Why?” The lieutenant asked quietly.

“Because I love you, you big stupid demon!” Johnny laughed softly, and it was a very tender laugh.

A stab of pain flashed through Ghost's chest again, but this time there was something else. Obeying some impulse he didn't quite understand, he slipped his hand under the blanket covering Soap and ran his fingers over his body: along his neck, feeling the vein beating, counting his rapid pulse; over his chest, covered with soft dark hair; over his muscular stomach. When Ghost touched the elastic of Johnny's boxers, he exhaled convulsively and stirred, pressing himself harder against the large, hot palm. The demon raised his head, looked into his bright blue eyes, and saw in them a plea not to stop, to continue what he was doing.

Ghost's hand slid lower. He gently stroked Johnny through his underwear, feeling his arousal and the wet spot on the thin fabric. Soap moaned softly and arched his back, trying to rub himself against the large and overly cautious palm, and the demon froze, looking at him and not believing that a human like Johnny could want him, a monster, a hellish creature with a horrible fate, which was now no longer a forgotten secret.

“Please.” Soap exhaled, clinging to Ghost's burly shoulders. “Please, Simon.”

A low growl escaped the demon's chest, and he jerked Johnny's boxers down. His palm was rougher than a human's, but that didn't seem to bother Soap at all. He trembled with impatience and moaned with pleasure at the touch. His cock was hard and hot, and Ghost took it in his fist, slowly smearing a drop of precum across the glans with his thumb. Johnny's moans, his incoherent pleas, seemed deafening to the demon, and he clamped his other hand over his mouth before beginning to slowly stroke him. Ghost knew that his body was capable of sexual intercourse, but he was still surprised by the strange pulling sensation in his lower abdomen and the fact that his pants had suddenly become tight. He was sure that Johnny would do anything for him if he asked or simply made it clear that he wanted it, but for some reason, such prospects frightened him, a powerful demon, so he just continued to move his hand up and down, twisting his wrist to increase the pleasure.

For the first time in twenty years of his afterlife, Ghost felt so many emotions in such a short period of time. His chest was still raging with pain, fear, and sadness from the memories Captain Price had awakened, and at the same time, he felt excitement, pleasure, and... love. Yes, it seemed that this was indeed love: real, strong, and uncompromising. And it seemed like it was all too much for the demon. The pain that pierced his chest made him squeeze Johnny's cock harder and move his hand faster. Soap pressed himself against him, sobbing into his palm, which was still covering his mouth. Then he arched his back, his eyes rolled back, and Ghost's hand, which was squeezing his cock, became hot and wet. He watched with rapture as Johnny came, feeling the convulsions of pleasure run through his body and how he slowly relaxed, melting into his embrace, burying his face in the curve between his shoulder and neck.

“Fuck, Simon.” He whispered. “That's so good. I've dreamed about this for so long.”

“Very long?” Ghost asked.

“Yes!” Soap replied, blushing, and then the demon felt his hand on his thigh. “What about you, Lt.? Do you want me to make you feel good?”

“Negative.” Ghost replied, although he really wanted to. “Not today, Johnny.”

“All right.” Soap didn't argue, smiled gently, and kissed the demon's mask where his lips were. “Then tell me when you're ready. Any time, copy?”

“Roger that.” Ghost said in his emotionless voice.

Soap got up, and the lieutenant reluctantly let him out of his embrace so he could clean himself up with some wet wipes he found in his nightstand. Johnny wiped himself down, then, surprising Ghost, took his hand and wiped it long and tenderly as well. He threw his boxers on the floor, then climbed back into bed completely naked and pressed himself against the lieutenant, demanding a hug.

“Good night, Simon.” He said sleepily, settling his head comfortably on the demon's chest.

“Good night, Johnny.” Ghost echoed.

Soap fell asleep quickly and slept soundly, not waking up until the wake-up signal sounded. When it rang and the sergeant groaned and opened his eyes, Ghost was no longer there, only the bed, which still retained the contours of his burly body, indicating that he had left only a short time ago.

[darth-mortem]

mandatory bedrest. always better in pairs ❤️✨

[darth-mortem]

The 10th part of my demon!Ghost AU. After a long mission, 141 gets some well-deserved time off. Price plans to finish his report and get some sleep, Roach and Gaz prepare for a party at the base, and Soap reminds Ghost about his offer to spend some time together, and they head to the nearest town.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9

Fluff, kittens, confessions, kisses. 4069 words.

Soap quietly knocked on Ghost's door and slipped inside. He had just woken up, sleeping off a long mission, quickly washed up, and came straight here without even drinking his coffee first.

“Hey, Lt.!” He exclaimed, smiling happily.

“Hey, Johnny.” Replied Ghost, who was sitting in his favorite chair as usual.

He was wearing multicam pants and a hoodie; like everyone else, he had sent some of his gear to the dry cleaners and cleaned some of it himself.

“How are you?” Soap asked. “What were you doing while we were all asleep?”

Coming closer, MacTavish thoughtlessly glanced around the room and suddenly noticed a new object in the corner by the window: an ordinary cardboard box.

“What's that?” Soap asked another question, looking curiously at Ghost.

“I’m fine.” The lieutenant began to answer in order. “While you were sleeping, I cleaned my weapons and equipment. And I have kittens in there.”

You can keep reading here or on the Ao3. On Ao3 you can see a beautiful art for this part.

“What?” Soap stared in surprise. “Did I hear you say kittens?”

“Yes.” Ghost confirmed, realizing that this would not be enough for the curious sergeant, and continued. "One of the cats was pregnant before we left on the mission. I left this box for her. She's out for a walk now, so the kittens are in there alone.”

“Wait, so you left the window open?” MacTavish asked anxiously. ”What if someone got in?”

“That would be the last thing they'd ever do.” The lieutenant said this with his usual emotionless tone, but the sergeant somehow believed him right away.

Ghost got up from his chair, walked over to Soap, took him by the hand, and led him to the box. Inside was a rolled-up terry towel, and on top of it were tiny black and striped kittens sleeping soundly. They were lying together, so Soap, crouching down, couldn't count them all at once. There seemed to be five, but he wasn't sure.

“They're so cute.” Soap whispered for some reason. “The local guys said all the cats were neutered.”

“Probably not all of them.” Ghost shrugged. “Let's go, let them sleep. You can pet them later when they wake up.”

They walked away, and the lieutenant sat down in his chair. Soap remained standing, unable to wipe the completely silly smile off his face. Thinking about how a huge demon, a devourer of souls, cared for tiny kittens, he felt a very pleasant, warm feeling in his chest. Giving in to a sudden impulse, Soap walked over, crouched down on the armrest of the chair, and then hugged Ghost tightly.

“You're so good.” He whispered, pressing his cheek against the hard skull plate on the demon's mask.

Suddenly, Ghost felt something long forgotten, something left over from his human life that he thought he could no longer feel. It was a pain that pierced his chest somewhere where his black heart did not beat.

“I can't be good, Johnny.” Ghost shook his head slowly. “I'm a demon, remember?”

“I don't care!” Soap declared. “I actually believe that a human... um... well, or a non-human who is kind to cats can't be a bad person. And you're also kind to me.”

If Ghost had been breathing, he would have sighed heavily. The pain receded, and it all happened so quickly that now the lieutenant wasn't even sure if he had imagined it. Meanwhile, Soap remembered why he had come here, jumped off the armrest, and found himself facing Ghost.

“So, Lt., shall we go to town before they dump some more shit on us?” He asked, smiling cheerfully.

“Yes.” The demon replied simply, and Johnny, nudging him in the shoulder with his fist, almost ran out of the room.

Ghost had a rather vague idea of how the bureaucratic machinery of the army worked, but he assumed that in order to leave the base, they would need at least permission from the commander. Their commander was Price, so Johnny had probably gone to look for him, which meant the lieutenant should wait. He could ask the captain for advice once his and the sergeant's discharge had been officially confirmed.

Soap returned about an hour later, but this time he didn't stay long, just happily announced that their discharge had been approved and that they would be leaving for the town by helo at nineteen zero-zero, then disappeared as quickly as he had appeared. There was still plenty of time, especially for someone who didn't need to pack, so Ghost sat for a while, checked on the kittens, which had just finished eating and were now sleeping again, now under their mother's watchful eye, and then slowly went in search of the captain. He wasn't in residential block 141, so the lieutenant went outside and, after thinking for a few seconds, headed for the administrative building.

It wasn't far, but Ghost still managed to hear many snippets of people's conversations. The soldiers were discussing their duty, their families, their relationships, and even each other. Through the hubbub of voices, the lieutenant heard a couple of familiar ones and, looking in the direction of the sound, saw Sergeants Garrick and Sanderson in the company of several locals. They were speaking quietly, but that was no obstacle to the demon's unnaturally keen hearing, and he heard that the subject of discussion was a party. Apparently, they were planning to hold it secretly right there, on the base, in honor of one of the participants' promotion. Fortunately for them, Ghost didn't care about such things, and it didn't even occur to him to report the upcoming violation to Captain Price or anyone else, as any other lieutenant in his place would have done.

Passing the entrance to the dining room, Ghost walked around the building and climbed the external stairs that led directly to the second floor. A guard stood at the entrance and told him which office Captain Price was in. The lieutenant wanted to just go where he was told, but then he remembered Soap and muttered a quick ‘thank you’ before continuing on his way. Finding the right door, he knocked and heard permission to enter and a quiet, irritated grumble. However, upon seeing Ghost, the captain's anger melted away, and he gestured for him to sit down.

“How can I help you, Lieutenant?” Price asked, taking a cigar from his shirt pocket.

“Johnny asked me to go in town with him.” Ghost replied, or rather stated.

“Yes, your papers are ready.” The captain nodded.

“I know.” Ghost shook his head. “That's not the point.”

“Then what is?” Price asked patiently.

“Why me? I mean, why not all of us?” Asked Ghost, who hadn't prepared for this conversation today and was struggling to find the right words.

“Well, first of all, I still have a lot of work to do, and Gaz and Roach preferred to go to a secret party at the base.” Price smiled, narrowing his eyes slyly. “And secondly... Don't you understand?”

If Ghost understood anything, it was that Johnny had chosen to spend time with him rather than with his friends, and that was nice. In fact, he was well aware that the sergeant liked him, but he just couldn't believe it.

“I don't understand why.” He finally managed to say, although to the captain his words sounded as emotionless as ever. “And I don't know what to do when we get to town.”

“Well, I can't answer the first question, but the second...” Price took a drag on his cigar and slowly exhaled the smoke. “Just be yourself. You don't need to impress him; he already likes you.”

Ghost chuckled thoughtfully, and the captain thought once again that he didn't understand at what point his life had turned into this. Of course, he was pleased that his men and even the demon trusted him enough to talk to him about personal matters. But he was no expert in relationships, either with his parents, as Roach and Soap would occasionally talk with him, or with romantic partners, about whom Gaz often complained, and now even Ghost was turning to him for advice. And Price had a loser father, a tyrant of a grandfather who hated them both, and two divorces behind him. What advice could he give with that kind of experience?

“Listen, Lieutenant.” Finally, the captain spoke again. “Keep an eye on the lad; make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. He sometimes loses control when he drinks too much, and then he gets into fights, and I have to write a bunch of explanatory notes. And don't forget to take your bag with you. You'll be spending the night there, so it would be strange if you left without your things.”

“Roger that.” Ghost replied and stood up. “Thank you, Captain Price.”

He left, and Price stared at the door that closed behind him for a while, trying to figure out what the lieutenant had thanked him for, since he hadn't said anything meaningful. Unable to come up with an answer, he sighed, stubbed out his cigar, and went back to his hated paperwork.

Ghost thought that many soldiers would be flying into the town, but he was wrong. There were only two people in the helicopter with him and Soap: a supply officer who needed to go into the town on business and a corporal who had started a family here and was therefore entitled to additional leave. In general, soldiers were only allowed into the town on weekends and holidays, and General Strickland made an exception for the members of 141 only because they had just returned from a long mission.

While the lieutenant couldn't care less how many other soldiers from the base would be in town at the same time as him, Soap, on the contrary, was glad to have no company. Ghost probably didn't understand that this was a small town and that there weren't many pubs here. So if more soldiers had been on discharge here, they would have been everywhere, and it would have been impossible to sit quietly together. The sociable Soap had already won over most of the guys at the base, so they would have been constantly pestering him to join them or have a drink. It wasn't that he didn't like that, but right now he wanted something else, and he hoped Ghost did too.

During the short flight, MacTavish managed to chat with the supply officer and found out that he was also staying in town for the night, and they would be returning on the same helicopter, which would arrive tomorrow evening. So, in order not to take one of the SUVs on duty at the airfield for himself or Ghost, Soap agreed with the officer that he would give him and the lieutenant a ride there and back, and in return, they would help load the supplies the officer had flown in.

Ghost didn't take part in the conversation, either in the helicopter or in the SUV. He took the front passenger seat, and Soap settled in the back, which didn't prevent him from continuing to chat with the supply officer who was driving the SUV. Among everything that was said, the lieutenant noted that Johnny had already booked a hotel, chosen a pub, and mapped out several walking routes for tomorrow. Before doing all this, he had gathered as much information about the town as possible from the soldiers at the base and read about it on the Internet. For such a small town, it was almost the same as visiting it in person. Soap told all this to the supply officer, and Ghost realized that he liked how seriously the sergeant took the tasks before him, both combat and non-combat. If he did this more often and acted less crazy, he would make an excellent officer.

“Okay, we're here.” The supply officer said, braking in front of a small, cozy hotel.

“We are very grateful to you, sir!” Soap opened the door and jumped out of the car.

“Yes.” For the first time, Ghost broke his silence. “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” The officer nodded. “Have a good rest, but don't forget that you'll be carrying boxes tomorrow.”

“No problem!” Soap assured him.

Waiting for the lieutenant and sergeant to take their bags out of the trunk, the officer drove away.

 MacTavish glanced at Ghost, wanting to catch his eye, but he had already done that thing that made no one pay attention to his mask, so Soap just smiled, nudged the lieutenant in the shoulder with his fist, and headed for the hotel door.

After confirming the reservation, checking in (which was done the old-fashioned way, in a large, thick logbook), and making a few questionable comments about Ghost's height, the clerk finally handed over the keys and explained how to find the right room. Following the instructions, the sergeant and lieutenant went up to the second floor, turned right, and soon saw a door with a sign bearing the number of their room. Ghost went in first and, quickly making sure everything was clear, turned on the lights.

The room was quite spacious, clean, and cozy, with two single beds, a TV, a bathroom, and everything that unpretentious soldiers might need. Ghost thought he liked it, except that the ceiling was a little low for him: he had to duck his head to avoid bumping it.

“Oh, damn, Lt., I'm so sorry!” Soap said, noticing the demon's slight discomfort. “The rooms on the second floor are more comfortable, but the ceilings are higher on the first floor. Do you want me to ask them to move us?”

“Negative.” Ghost replied, walking over to a worn, soft armchair in the corner of the room and sitting down in it. “You've thought of everything, Johnny. You're a good man.”

Soap beamed with pride at the lieutenant's praise and stuck his nose in the air, then found a comb in his bag and went to the bathroom to tidy up his tousled mohawk. He never dared to tell Ghost that he had asked him out on a date, not just for a drink and to hang out together, but that was no reason to look bad. Soap had originally planned to wear something brighter and nicer but changed his mind when he realized that the contrast between his clothes and Ghost's would attract too much attention. The lieutenant was wearing his jeans, a black hoodie, and his military boots, the same outfit he had worn when they went to the pub with the rest of the unit. Of course, he thinks it's just a friendly get-together. However, even if he knew it was a date, he would have dressed the same way because he simply had no other options, and realizing this suddenly made Soap feel sad. He would gladly take Ghost shopping and buy him lots of different clothes, but unfortunately, no store would have anything that would fit a huge demon.

Before leaving the bathroom, the sergeant pushed the sad thoughts away, and a smile reappeared on his lips. He said he was ready, Ghost stood up, and they set off toward their destination for the day.

It was the middle of the work week, so there weren't many people in the pub. Soap asked Ghost to pick a table, then went to the bar to order beer for himself and tea for the lieutenant. No one paid much attention to them; the townspeople were probably used to the appearance of soldiers and treated them with indifference. At least, as long as the soldiers didn't bother them.

After getting their drinks, Soap looked around for Ghost and headed over to him. The lieutenant was sitting with his back to the wall, and MacTavish sat down to his right so he could see the whole room and the entrance to the pub.

“Well, cheers, Lt.!” He said with a smile, raising his mug and taking a big gulp of cold beer.

Ghost watched Johnny almost moan with pleasure. Beer foam remained on his upper lip, and it looked funny, but the lieutenant didn't have time to say anything about it. Soap took a couple more sips and wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his hoodie.

“Listen, Lt.” Quickly glancing around, Soap leaned closer to Ghost and lowered his voice. “Have you ever tried anything to eat or drink?”

“Yes.” The lieutenant replied.

“And how was it?”

“Not great.” Ghost shrugged. “It wasn't bad, but it wasn't good either.”

“Hmm...” Johnny took another sip and looked around the pub thoughtfully. “Would you like to try one more time? I think I have an idea.”

“What is it?” The lieutenant tilted his head to one side, intrigued. “You'll find out when you agree!” Soap declared triumphantly and laughed cheerfully.

Ghost shook his head and made a sound very similar to a short laugh. He would never have said it out loud, but he was actually ready to agree to anything Johnny suggested.

“We'll see.” The lieutenant finally replied, deciding to take the initiative in the conversation before the sergeant came up with some other nonsense. “I heard there's a party at the base tonight.”

“Shit, I hope you didn't tell anyone about that, Lt.” Soap shook his head and sighed dramatically.

During his time with the demon, MacTavish had come to understand that when he used phrases like ‘I heard’, he didn't mean what humans did. When humans said ‘I heard’, they meant ‘I heard from someone’, but when Ghost said it, he meant that he had literally heard something with his supernatural hearing.

“No one.” The lieutenant reassured him, not bothering to tell him that Price already knew, and then looked intently at Soap. “I thought you loved parties, Johnny.”

“Yeah, but I love you more, Lt.” The sergeant replied cheerfully, finished his beer in one gulp, and stood up.

“I'll go order another one.”

He walked over to the bar, leaving Ghost completely stunned by what he had heard. What was that? A joke? Or did Johnny really love him, not just like him? And if so, what should he do about it?

Soap turned back and started talking about something else, as if nothing had happened. Ghost didn't answer right away, but that didn't surprise the sergeant; he was used to the lieutenant not responding sometimes; it didn't mean he hadn't heard.

“Did you name your kittens, Lt.?” Soap asked when he realized Ghost had been silent for too long.

“Negative.” The lieutenant replied. “Why?”

“What do you mean, ‘why’?” MacTavish protested. “We have to be able to tell them apart when we talk about them. All the cats on base have names, in case you didn't know, so the kittens should too!”

Demon sincerely didn't understand why this was necessary, since animals don't speak human language, don't understand it, and identify each other by other characteristics, just like he does. But Soap insisted so vehemently that he decided not to argue.

“All right, Johnny.” He said. “When we get back, you can give them names.”

Soap was delighted, drank his beer, and began to tell him about all the animals he had ever had.

They stayed in the pub almost until closing time. True to his promise to Captain Price, Ghost kept an eye on the sergeant, who was clearly drunk, and at some point said that it was time to go back to the hotel instead of ordering more drinks. Soap didn't mind, and after paying the bartender, they stepped out into the night. By this time, the small town was deserted, so they walked slowly, enjoying the autumn chill and even the light mist that settled on the sergeant's face, pleasantly cooling his cheeks, which were hot from the heat and alcohol. Ghost put his arm around Johnny’s shoulders to help him keep his balance, and he looked at him gratefully.

“You know, Lt., it sounds funny, but since I grew up, no one has cared about me like you do.” Soap said thoughtfully, taking a cigarette out of his pocket. “No friends, not even the ones I dated.”

Ghost thought it was more sad than funny, but he didn't say it out loud. Instead, he said something else:

“It's all thanks to you, Johnny. You're teaching me how to be a human.”

“No, I'm not teaching you, just reminding you.” Soap smiled in response.

“Maybe I wasn't the kind of person who was capable of caring about someone else.” Ghost shook his head.

“I'm sure you're wrong.” Johnny replied uncompromisingly. “If you didn't know how to do it then, you wouldn't have learned it now, you know what I mean?”

The lieutenant thought that made sense and nodded.

When they returned to the hotel, Soap took a T-shirt and pajama pants he had brought with him out of his bag and went to take a shower. Ghost made up one of the beds for him and settled into a chair in the corner. Soon Johnny came out, looked at him, and asked:

“Are you going to sleep with me?”

Ghost nodded, and Soap settled into bed first, wrapping himself in the blanket. The lieutenant stood up and, looking him straight in the eye, slowly pulled off first one glove and then the other. Then he threw the blanket over the half of the bed left for him and lay down, turning off the light and hugging Johnny from behind as usual. Almost immediately, Ghost felt Soap take his hand in his own and he moved his thumb, stroking MacTavish’s palm. Johnny repeated his gesture and remained silent for a couple of minutes, gently running his fingers over the lieutenant's hand, then raised it to his face and touched it with his lips.

“Hey, Lt.” He said softly. “Would you be very surprised if I told you that I like you more than a friend?”

“Negative.” Ghost replied. “Because I could say the same thing.”

Soap smiled happily in the darkness of the room and then fidgeted, turning to face the lieutenant. Stroking the skull plate on his mask with his fingers, he said in a slightly hoarse voice:

“I want to kiss you.”

“Negative.” Ghost replied after a pause. “I don't want you to see my face.”

The room was so dark that a person couldn't see anything even with his eyes open, but Soap didn't waste time explaining that to the demon.

“I won't look at your face, I promise.” He said, closing his eyes. “You trust me, don't you?”

Ghost trusted him. Soap felt movement, heard the rustle of fabric, and held his breath. A second later, Ghost's lips touched his own. They felt very dry and somehow lifeless, but warm and insistent. From gentle and chaste, it quickly turned passionate and intense; the demon wrapped his fingers around Soap's jaw and pressed lightly. He willingly parted his lips, and the demon's tongue slipped into his mouth. It was wet, hot, and seemed denser than a human tongue, and when Ghost wrapped his tongue around Johnny's, the sergeant groaned, realizing how long it was.

The demon pressed Soap against him and squeezed his hair with his fingers, forcing him to keep his head thrown back. He could feel Johnny trembling in his arms; he could hear his heart beating fast and his breathing becoming ragged. Then he felt human fingers touch his face and growled hoarsely into the kiss, but Soap wasn't scared. He greedily stroked the dry, rough skin, tracing the scars that covered it with his fingers.

The kiss was interrupted when Soap began to suffocate. He buried his face in Ghost's chest while he put on his mask, then felt his fingers touch his cheek and raised his head slightly.

“That was incredible.” Johnny murmured contentedly.

“Yes.” Ghost confirmed with his usual emotionlessness, thought for a moment, and asked. “So, was that a date?”

“Almost.” Soap replied cheerfully. “But next time will be a real date, I promise you.”

“I'll be waiting for it.” The demon said, and then covered his eyes with his palm. “Sleep, Johnny. You need to rest.”

Sleep suddenly fell upon Soap with such force that he couldn't even wish Ghost good night. His last thought before finally drifting off into the land of dreams was whether he was just that tired or if the demon had used his supernatural abilities on him.

[darth-mortem]

The ninth part of my demon!Ghost AU. Long-term observation finally yielded results. However, they were not what the members of 141 had expected but even worse.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Action, battle, conversations. 3477 words.

“Johnny.” Soap heard Ghost's familiar voice through his sleep. “Wake up, Johnny.”

MacTavish really didn't want to wake up, but he knew the lieutenant wouldn't wake him without a good reason, so he forced himself to open his eyes.

“What happened?” He asked hoarsely, feeling an unpleasant chill on his face as it penetrated the tent through the open entrance.

“They're back.” Ghost reported. “And they're not alone.”

Hearing this, Soap instantly woke up, sat up, and looked at the lieutenant, waiting for more information.

You can keep reading here or on the Ao3

Almost two weeks had passed since the start of the mission, and the only breakthrough had come today, or rather yesterday morning. It was the first time all three targets had left the hut, driving away in their pickup truck. They had left before, but one or two of them always stayed behind, preventing members of 141 from making any progress. This time, Ghost and Soap finally managed to pick the lock and break into the hut. They searched every inch of this place: they looked in all the lockers, nightstands, and even under the bed; they found a trapdoor to the basement under an old rug and searched it; they checked even the outdoor toilet. It wasn't that they didn't find anything at all, but what they found wasn't enough to warrant a raid. There was a little cocaine and weed in a cereal box, and a gun and several boxes of ammunition were hidden behind the sofa cushions. No drug or weapon caches, no illegal laboratories, no substances or parts that could be used to assemble a bomb. There weren't even any supplies in the basement of this damn house, which was a dark and completely empty room with a ceiling so low that even MacTavish had to bow his head.

“There are four women with them.” Meanwhile, Ghost continued his report. “One of the men had to ride in the pickup body so everyone could fit.”

“Women?” Soap stared at Ghost, then reluctantly crawled out of his sleeping bag and began to pull on his clothes. “That's unexpected. What kind of women? What are they like?”

“Young.” The lieutenant shrugged. “Drunk. Not dressed for the woods.”

The sergeant sighed quietly. It was foolish to expect more detailed information about mysterious women from a demon; he simply didn't know what to look for to form an impression. However, what was happening was strange enough as it was. If these women were acquaintances of the targets, they should have known where they were going and dressed accordingly. And if they were strangers, and drunk at that...

Zipping up his jacket and grabbing his assault rifle, Soap quickly followed Ghost to the observation point. He had a very bad feeling about all this. Maybe the subjects weren't narcos or terrorists, but they were hardly good people either. Perhaps they were even worse. What if they had met those girls in a pub or club, gotten them drunk or even drugged them, and then taken them far away from the city with obvious intentions? What should the lieutenant and sergeant do if they hear women screaming or sounds of a struggle? Rushing to help would mean the failure of the entire mission, but if they stayed away, the girls would almost certainly be raped or even killed.

A large bonfire was burning on the lawn near the hut, around which observation targets were sitting. They had carried a small table out of the room, on which there was a bottle of some kind of alcohol and a simple snack: sliced sausage, a can of food, most likely fish, and a few pieces of bread. The girls were not with them, and the door to the hut was tightly closed.

A panicked thought flashed through Soap's mind that he and Ghost were too late and there was no one left to save, but the lieutenant, staring intently at something only he could see, whispered quietly:

“They're here. In the house.”

The sergeant felt a weight lift off his heart. Maybe they were acquaintances, maybe they had nowhere to spend the night and were already asleep, or maybe...

“No, not in the house.” Ghost interrupted Soap's thoughts. “In the basement.”

“Are you sure?” The sergeant whispered just as quietly, even though the targets of their observation were in such a state that they wouldn't have heard even a scream; an unpleasant chill of foreboding quickly descended on Soap again.

“Yes.” The lieutenant replied and looked at the sergeant. “Johnny, get down and contact Captain Price.”

“Aye.” Soap nodded briefly, quickly ran down the hill, and began calling the second combat group on the radio.

Gaz answered. Probably he was on duty at this moment. Fortunately, he could tell from the alarm in MacTavish's voice that something had happened, and he quickly woke Price and handed him the radio.

“What's going on, lads?” The captain asked, awakened so abruptly that he forgot to use the protocol for communication during missions.

Soap quickly relayed everything he had heard from Ghost and seen himself, and for a few seconds there was silence in the radio headset. When Price spoke again, there was no sleepiness in his voice, and his tone had become harsh and cold.

“Bravo 7-1, continue observation. No actions that could compromise you.” The captain ordered. “Do you copy?”

“Aye, Bravo 6.” Frowning and clenching his fists, Soap replied but then couldn't help himself. “Since when do we ignore obvious danger to civilians?”

“You don’t copy, I guess.” Price was clearly annoyed but decided to take a moment to explain. “If the targets had brought the girls here to rape them, they would have done so already, and there would be three of them, not four. Do I need to continue, or do you get it now?”

“I get it, Bravo 6.” MacTavish said guiltily.

He immediately felt guilty for thinking badly of Price, who never passed by civilians if they could still be saved. It didn't matter what mission 141 was on or how seriously injured the person was; if they were in a dangerous area, the captain would always stop to help as much as possible.

“We're on our way.” Price said calmly, without irritation in his voice. “Keep watching. And tell Bravo 0-7 that if the situation changes, he has to decide for himself whether to intervene or not. Do you copy, Bravo 7-1?”

“Aye.” Soap replied. “Bravo 7-1 out.”

The sergeant turned back to Ghost and lay down next to him, only now realizing that he had forgotten to grab his waterproof mat. However, that was the least of his and the lieutenant's problems right now.

“Price thinks these bastards are involved in human trafficking.” Soap said quietly. “They probably got an order for girls, met them at some nightclub, slipped drugs into their drinks, and when they no longer understood what was happening, they put them in a car and brought them here.”

Ghost nodded without commenting or asking any questions. He had dealt with similar situations before and understood perfectly well why some unknown bastard might need girls.

“Price, Gaz, and Roach are already heading our way.” Soap continued. “But they may not make it before the customer arrives, or one of the three may take the girls to another meeting place. Price said that in that case, you, Lt., will have to decide what to do with this. Now we not only have to catch as many of these bastards as possible red-handed, but also rescue the civilians.”

“Roger that.” The lieutenant replied briefly and glanced at Soap. “Go to the camp and get your mat.”

“But Lt., what if something happens while I'm gone?” MacTavish tried to object.

“Then you'd better get back quickly.” Ghost didn't give in, looking back at the hut. “Go, Johnny. That's an order.”

“Aye, sir.” Soap grumbled discontentedly, pouting, then turned and ran quickly toward their small camp.

He returned quickly, but nothing had changed near the hut during his absence or in the next half an hour. The targets continued to drink and have fun, then extinguished the fire and went into the hut. Soap tensed, but Ghost reported that one of them had peeked into the basement for just a few seconds, after which all three had collapsed into sleep.

Time dragged on incredibly slowly. Soap moved closer to Ghost, who put his arm around him, raising his temperature to warm him up. If the lieutenant knew how to use the radio, the sergeant could have returned to camp and gotten some sleep, because it was obvious that nothing else would happen here before the customers arrived. However, he dozed off from time to time, and Ghost did not wake him, allowing him to rest before the battle.

Soap thought about how Price had given Ghost the right to make decisions, not him. He didn't argue or envy him, but now he wondered if the captain knew something the other members of 141 didn't. Obviously, the demon already had experience in command, but had he gained it at the Albright base, or did he have such skills when he was still human? Soap wanted to ask the lieutenant about it but felt himself falling asleep again and did not resist, knowing that he was safe and that Ghost would wake him when necessary.

No matter how fast the second group went, they didn't make it to the meeting place near the hut in time. Soap woke up around dawn, and shortly after that, two of the three targets came out, and about half an hour later, a dirty, dark blue van pulled into the clearing.

“Find out where Captain Price is, Johnny.” Ghost ordered. “And be ready for a fight.”

Three men got out of the van, one of whom was the boss, as could be seen from his expensive suit and fashionable hairstyle. The other two were the driver and, presumably, a bodyguard, both armed with pistols. Presumably, the boss also had some kind of weapon that was not yet visible. The two owners of the hut who greeted the guests also had pistols and a pump-action shotgun.

“The captain said they'll be here in forty minutes.” Soap reported, finishing the radio conversation.

“Roger that.” Ghost nodded. "We'll start as soon as the human trafficking is confirmed. You stay here first; shoot out the tires of the van and the pickup. I'll take care of those bastards, and then you'll come down and take the civilians to safety.”

”Aye, Lt." Soap nodded and began to put on his helmet, which was lying nearby.

Negotiations began near the hut. At first, they just talked, and then one of the men from the hut started showing the boss something on his phone. Soap thought they might be photos of girls, because the man in the suit was looking at them closely and making comments. Perhaps he was pointing out flaws or discrepancies with the order, trying to knock down the price. Finally, they came to some agreement, and movement began near the hut. One of the two owners went inside, and a few minutes later, together with the third, who had remained inside, they began to lead the girls out.

Soap strained his eyes, looking closely at the captives. They were dirty from being in the earthen basement, their clothes partially torn, but there were no obvious signs of violence. However, this was understandable; it wasn't in the kidnappers' interest to damage their merchandise.

Now the boss began to examine the girls themselves, who were lined up in a row and held at gunpoint. They were very young, probably students, and Soap's heart sank. When he looked at them, he thought of his younger sister, who was about the same age. As for Ghost, he remained motionless, but the air around him grew noticeably colder, indicating that the demon was beginning to be overcome with rage.

As much as both soldiers wanted to end this quickly, they understood that time was on their side. There weren't many enemies, and they weren't very well armed, but the presence of civilian hostages and the order to take bastards alive greatly complicated matters. Therefore, the longer the negotiations continued, the more likely it was that Captain Price's group would reach them in time, and the raid would be carried out not by the two of them, but by the entire unit.

Meanwhile, the negotiations down below were nearing their conclusion. After looking at the girls, the man in the suit and one of the hut's owners, probably the leader, began to talk again, but this time not for long. The boss said something to his bodyguard, who took a briefcase out of the van. When it was opened, it turned out to be filled with wads of cash, and that was the signal for Ghost and Soap that it was time to start.

There was a silencer on the barrel of MacTavish's assault rifle. The lieutenant ordered him to wait until he came down and shoot at the wheels, then began to descend the hill. There was nowhere to hide, but everyone involved in the deal was focused on their own business, so Ghost managed to remain unnoticed. Soap saw him hide behind the corner of a hut and pull out two throwing knives, pressing his cheek against the stock and aiming at the car wheel. He fired at the pickup first, and it went unnoticed, but when the distinctive sound of a punctured tire and the whistle of air came from the side of the van, everyone started looking around and reaching for their weapons.

Ghost jumped out of his hiding place and threw the knives from both hands. Having rightly decided that the driver and the boss's bodyguard were not particularly valuable witnesses, he hit one in the eye, the other in the throat, and, without giving his enemies time to recover, rushed into battle.

Chaos reigned near the hut. Two more guards with automatic weapons suddenly jumped out of the back door of the van and immediately opened fire, miraculously missing the girls, who were frozen in fear.

“Get down on the ground!” Ghost shouted at them as he passed by and pushed one of them.

He didn't see if it had any effect, but Soap did. The girls fell, and just in time, because the wall of the hut they were standing next to was immediately riddled with bullets. Ghost fell and rolled over his shoulder, dodging a shot from a shotgun. It slowed him down, but considering the civilian witnesses and the order to take the criminals alive, he couldn't reveal his true nature.

Soap shot one of the hut's owners. He fell, dropping his gun, and crawled toward the pickup truck. Ghost could have finished him off, but he didn't, just kicking him a couple of times in the ribs before jumping behind a pile of stacked firewood.

The enemies still didn't know that the pickup truck was also out of commission and were trying to break through to it. So far, they were acting together, but Ghost was sure that as soon as they reached the car, they would immediately start fighting each other. Now he was the only thing standing between the criminals and their goal, so he started a shootout with them, not letting them get close.

Meanwhile, Soap had already climbed down the hill and, following Ghost's path, was cautiously approaching the girls. They were afraid to do anything because of the almost continuous gunfire, but MacTavish saw that the trajectory of the shots had changed and that they were not in immediate danger. Creeping along the hut, he peered out, then crouched down and ran up to the girls.

“Get up!” He ordered quietly. “I'll get you out of here, come on, come on!”

Instead of obeying his order, they began to bombard Soap with questions mixed with hysterical sobs. It was not surprising, considering what they had been through, but the sergeant had no time for that. He had to come to Ghost's aid because the enemies were slowly but surely closing in on him, and soon the situation could become critical.

“Calm down!” Soap tried again. “I'm one of the good guys, understand? I'm here to help you!”

This time, his words seemed to be heard, because the girls, still sobbing, began to slowly get up. Soap hurried them along, then, glancing at the lieutenant, led them behind the hut and on toward the hill.

Ghost shot one of the boss's guards and slung his rifle over his shoulder. He had used all his ammo, and now he would have to engage in close combat. This wasn’t good, because it would be more difficult to spare the lives of his enemies in this situation. Without a radio, he didn’t yet know that Price's group had already met up with Soap and the freed girls and that it would all be over in a matter of minutes.

The captain wanted to send MacTavish with the girls to his and Ghost's camp, but the sergeant flatly refused. Therefore, this task was handed over to Roach, while Price, Gaz, and Soap hurried to the lieutenant's aid.

Realizing that Ghost had run out of ammo, the criminals continued to fire at his cover and began to advance. The lieutenant was already waiting for them, clutching his large knife with a serrated blade on one side in his hand, when he suddenly heard something that humans couldn't hear and relaxed. He heard familiar footsteps, the quiet breathing of three people, and then a loud voice that belonged to Captain Price.

“Freeze! Drop your weapons!” He ordered.

Three members of 141 sneaked up behind the enemies and held them at gunpoint. Bastards from the hut surrendered immediately, but the boss's bodyguard, the only one still alive, tried to jerk away, and Soap shot him in the leg with obvious pleasure, discouraging him from continuing to resist.

That wasn't the end of it, but Ghost and Soap did not take part in the rest of the action. They sat on a roughly hewn bench near the porch, watching their comrades tie up the criminals, Price call all the necessary services, and Gaz treat the girls to coffee and sandwiches made from food found in the hut.

“I can't wait to get back to base.” Soap said, smoking a cigarette. “I really want to take a proper shower and eat something decent.”

Ghost said nothing, staring thoughtfully into the distance.

“How are you, Lt.? Not tired?” MacTavish asked, glancing at him. “I mean, you didn't get souls this time...”

“Don't worry, Johnny.” Ghost replied. “I got enough of them during the last missions.”

Soon, Price came over and ordered the sergeant and lieutenant to pack up their camp. The helicopter will pick them up from there and then stop at the second group's camp, because they had left a lot of stuff there so as not to slow themselves down with heavy backpacks. Soap wanted to sit a little longer, but he understood that the mission was not yet complete, so he got up and followed Ghost to the hill. As they climbed, police cars and ambulances began to pull up in front of the hut.

“I hope after all this they'll give us at least a few days to rest.” Soap said, dismantling the tent. “The guys at the base said they head to the nearest town when they're off duty and that there are a few decent pubs there. We could go there too.”

“Yes.” Agreed Ghost, who was helping to pack up.

“Maybe we could go somewhere just the two of us?” Soap suggested unexpectedly.

During this mission, he had thought several times that he could ask the lieutenant out on a date because he couldn't deny that he liked Ghost more than just a friend. But for some reason, the sergeant was afraid to say it out loud, and he wasn't even sure that the demon was familiar with the concept of dating, so he chose a more neutral tone.

“Yes.” Ghost agreed again.

He didn't see anything strange in this proposal, of course, but he was pleased that Johnny wanted to spend time with him. It was one of the signs that he liked him, which Price had told him about before the mission. Perhaps if they agree to meet somewhere alone, Ghost should talk to the captain first and find out how he should behave during this meeting.

“Well, that seems to be everything.” MacTavish looked around their camp carefully, making sure they had gathered everything. "Let's get back to the others. I hope the helo will be here soon." The lieutenant nodded, picked up both backpacks, and they walked slowly toward the hut.

[darth-mortem]

The eighth part of my demon!Ghost AU. While Ghost tries to better understand human emotions, 141 have a new mission. This time, they must conduct surveillance on a specific target, and the lieutenant is given the lead role. However, this time Ghost is not only watching potential enemies, but also his own feelings.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

Mission, conversations, advices. 2984 words.

When 141 received orders to gather in the briefing room in the middle of the day, everyone, even Ghost, realized that a new mission was ahead. The unit had only returned from Seattle yesterday, and everyone was looking forward to some rest, but they had no choice.

Gaz and Roach were the first to arrive, while Soap lingered to go into Ghost’s room and get him. The lieutenant was still ignoring the base's loudspeaker announcements, claiming that the voices coming from the speakers weren't real and alive and that he didn't consider them worthy of attention.

“Well, lads, as you’ve already figured out, our rest is canceled.” Price said when everyone finally sat down at the long table. “This time, it doesn't look like anything complicated is expected, but it could drag on.”

You can keep reading here or on the Ao3

The captain unfolded a large map of the area on the table, with a square circled in the middle of a forest that was unrecognizable at this scale. In addition to the map, several satellite images showing the same area were laid out on the table.

“As you can see in the photos, there is what looks like an abandoned forester's hut in this area.” Price began to brief them. "However, suspicious activity has been noticed there recently. There are suspicions that there may be a cache of drugs or weapons, or even an underground laboratory. Our task is to monitor what is happening there, and if we find anything illegal, to carry out a raid.”

”Of course, with maximum preservation of witnesses and evidence?” Soap asked, and seeing the captain nod, he yawned demonstratively. ”Boring!"

“Don't worry, son, there's plenty of work for you even without explosions.” Price smiled crookedly. "Under normal circumstances, I would have planned everything differently, but now we have a soldier who never sleeps, so this is how it will be. Soap and Ghost will conduct surveillance in the immediate vicinity of the target. I, Gaz, and Roach will wait at a safe distance so we can quickly get there and make the raid if necessary. It's simple, lads; we've done this a hundred times.”

”But why is Soap going to do surveillance?” Gaz asked. ”He's injured; he'd be better off in a safe camp."

“Yeah, but his only task will be to maintain contact with us and report back on the observations.” Price said, shaking his head. “You weren't listening to me. I told you we're going to use our superweapon.”

Ghost sat motionless, but for some reason, Soap felt that he liked that wording.

“When do we leave?” Roach asked, getting straight to the point as usual.

“In two hours.” Price replied. “So if there are no questions, go get everything you need.”

Price didn't watch everyone leave the briefing room. He leaned over the table, carefully gathering the photos and folding the map, thinking he was alone. However, when he straightened up, he saw Ghost sitting silently and motionless, staring intently at him, and he shuddered in surprise.

“Jesus Christ!” The captain exhaled and suddenly looked at the demon with interest. “Hey, Lieutenant, do references to God or church symbols hurt you?”

“Not always.” He replied and shrugged. "The power of such words and objects lies in the belief in them. So if a priest splashes holy water on me, it will probably hurt.”

”Copy that.” Price said thoughtfully. ”So, did you want something?”

”Yes.“ Ghost replied. ”I need some advice."

“Go ahead.” The captain nodded and sat down at the table opposite him, resolving not to be surprised by anything.

“How does a human show that he likes another human?” Ghost asked without pause, clearly indicating that he had formulated his question in advance.

Price mentally sighed heavily. He wasn't surprised; on the contrary, he had been expecting something like this for some time, but not so soon. The attraction between the mysterious lieutenant and the youngest sergeant in the unit had been obvious almost from the start. There is nothing to say: Ghost himself chose Soap for his first mission with 141, and it was probably because of him that he decided to leave Albright's base and join them. But Price had no idea what might happen if this attraction grew deeper. Could a demon even have human feelings, or was that just his illusion? On the other hand, why not, since Ghost was once human? Another question was what such affection might do to MacTavish. Would constant close interaction with a spawn of hell be detrimental to him?

“Lieutenant, the concept of ‘liking’ has several meanings for humans.” The captain began cautiously. "For example, all of us in 141 are friends, and we like each other. To demonstrate these feelings, we help each other, give gifts on holidays, spend time together, and never, even against orders, leave anyone behind on the battlefield. People can also like each other romantically. Here, everything is the same, but with some additions."

The captain fell silent, gathering his thoughts. Ghost did not rush him and waited patiently for him to continue, tilting his head to one side.

“In principle, everything is very similar here, but there are some nuances.” Price spoke again. "For example, help can be insignificant and unnecessary. When you do something for another person that he can do himself. It's called ‘a sign of attention’. Also, gifts in this case are given not only on holidays but just because, and it can be something more... personal, you understand?"

The lieutenant nodded, and his thoughtfulness was evident despite his hood.

“When people like each other, they want to spend more time together.” Price continued. "They share personal information with each other, and they want more intimate physical contact, such as hugs, holding hands, simple touches that are not usually accepted among friends, kisses, and finally, sexual intimacy. You know what that is?”

”Yes.” Ghost replied, and Price mentally sighed with relief that he wouldn't have to explain human sex to a supernatural creature.

”Well, that's about it." The captain said, glancing at his watch. “If you have no further questions, we need to get ready for the mission.”

“Yes.” The lieutenant repeated and stood up, towering over him with his considerable height. “Thank you, Captain Price.”

Having finished their conversation, they left the briefing room and went their separate ways to gather their weapons and equipment. It didn't take Ghost long to do this, and grabbing his bag, he locked the door and went to Soap's room.

“Hey, Lt.” The sergeant waved cheerfully when the lieutenant entered. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Ghost replied. “Do you need help with this?”

“No, thanks.” Soap replied, looked at the lieutenant, paused for a few seconds, and smiled. “Actually, you can help. I can write a list of everything we'll need for surveillance, and you can go to the warehouse and get it. Affirmative?”

“Yes.” Ghost nodded and froze, waiting for the list.

Soap knew that the lieutenant didn't need much of what he needed himself, but he made a list for two people anyway so that no one would have any questions. Then, when Ghost brings everything, the equipment will need to be thoroughly checked. Of course, a broken tent or a malfunctioning burner wasn't as big a problem as defective detonators, but he didn't want any additional inconveniences during the mission.

The lieutenant was already dressed in his gear, with knives and a scythe attached to it, and magazines and grenades in the pockets of his tactical vest, so as he walked through the base, he attracted curious glances from the other soldiers. Several of them turned out to be new friends of the three 141's sergeants, some of whom were already showing off new tattoos based on Soap's sketches. And since he, Gaz, and Roach often talked about Captain Price and Lieutenant Ryan, one of these guys decided to talk to Ghost, despite his terrifying appearance.

“Good afternoon, Lieutenant!” The soldier saluted, and Ghost automatically responded in kind. “Are you off on another mission? Right now?”

The demon had no desire to waste time on this guy, but he remembered his conversation with Soap when he had first allowed the sergeant to touch his bare hand. Johnny had made it clear that he would like Ghost to start talking to the local soldiers. The lieutenant also thought about what the captain had called signs of attention. Putting these two things together, he decided that Soap would be pleased to know that he had remembered and fulfilled his request and that this simple act would be the sign of attention that Price had spoken of.

“Yes.” Ghost replied, adding another phrase he had heard from the captain. “That's our job.”

“Then say hello to MacTavish, and I hope you all come back in one piece.” The soldier said with a smile, then saluted again and went about his business.

Deciding that no reply was necessary, Ghost also continued on his way.

The helicopter delivered the unit to the point where Captain Price's group was to set up camp. Once there, Soap and Ghost sorted through their equipment and supplies, leaving almost half behind. The lieutenant did not need water or food, nor did he need a sleeping bag, a waterproof mat, binoculars, a thermal imager, and many other things. Ghost took almost everything himself, but MacTavish insisted on carrying something too. He was also responsible for the radio and its batteries. In case of prolonged surveillance of the target, Gaz or Roach would have to bring more provisions to Soap.

Having dealt with all this, the surveillance group set off. They had to walk about ten klicks through the forest to reach their camp. The target was one klick further. If there were no serious obstacles along the way, Ghost and Soap would have time to reach their destination and set up camp before dark, and then the lieutenant could begin surveillance.

The way through the forest seemed almost pleasant to Soap. The weather here was dry, windless, and sunny: it was warm, the voices of birds could be heard, and a thick layer of colorful leaves rustled quietly underfoot. At first, Ghost led the way, but then the trees and bushes thinned out, and he and Soap were able to walk side by side. The lieutenant told him about his brief encounter with the soldier, and, as he had expected, Johnny was delighted to hear that he had spoken to someone who wasn't from 141, even if the conversation had been very short.

Around noon, MacTavish said it was time to take a break and have a snack. He had protein bars and a thermos of coffee that Roach had given him, which hadn't had time to cool down yet. Making sure no one was around, two soldiers settled down on the trunk of a tree that had been blown down by the storm, and Soap took out the supplies.

“You've done this before, Lt.?” He asked, pouring himself some coffee.

“Yes.” Ghost replied. “I know what to do.”

“Copy.” Soap said, unwrapping a protein bar. “We'll check in with the captain twice a day unless anything unusual happens: at twenty-two zero-zero and at ten zero-zero. So have your reports ready by then.”

The lieutenant nodded, watching the sergeant chew his bars with gusto and wash them down with coffee. Then he poured another cup and took a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

“Let's determine the daily routine of our targets, and then I'll join you during their peak activity hours.” MacTavish continued, lighting a cigarette with relish. “If it turns out that the people aren't in the hut all the time, we'll try to sneak inside and see what they're up to.”

“Roger that.” The lieutenant nodded again and put his hand on Soap's shoulder. “Are you cold, Johnny?”

“No, but it's always nice to be close to you.” MacTavish smiled, moving closer to Ghost.

Soon they set off again, carefully removing all traces of their brief stay in this place.

The sun was already setting when the two soldiers arrived at their destination and began to set up camp, which was located under a hill from the top of which the hut and the area around it would be clearly visible. Soap did almost everything by himself because Ghost didn't know how to set up a tent or what was needed for a relatively comfortable stay in the wilderness. To keep himself entertained, the sergeant commented on everything he was doing, explaining why it was necessary, while the lieutenant listened and helped where he could. When everything was ready, they both climbed up to their observation point and lay down: Soap on a waterproof mat with a thermal imager, and Ghost simply on the leaf-covered ground with nothing else.

The hut was clearly not empty, despite its general dilapidated appearance. Light was shining through the tightly curtained windows, and smoke was coming out of the chimney. A little further away, covered with a camouflage net, stood a vehicle, which, judging by its size and shape, was a pickup truck. Ghost and Soap watched for a while, and then the lieutenant, without taking his eyes off the hut, said quietly:

“There are three people inside.”

The sergeant, who couldn't see such details even through the thermal imager due to the bright heat source inside the building, looked at Ghost with interest.

“How did you know?” He asked.

“I can see three souls.” The lieutenant explained. “Or rather, I can feel them.”

Soap was curious to know more, but it was time to give his first report to the captain, so he postponed his questions for later. Crawling down the hillside toward the camp, he began to establish communication and soon heard Price's voice in his radio headset.

“Bravo 7-1 reporting.” Soap said, making sure he could be heard loud and clear. “Bravo 0-7 and I have arrived at the location. The camp and perimeter have been secured, and we have begun surveillance. There are currently three persons at the site. We can see the car they arrived in.”

“Roger that.” Price replied. “Anything else?”

“Negative.” MacTavish reported.

“Then stand by for the next communication session at the appointed time.” The captain said. “Bravo-6 out.”

Soap turned back to Ghost and saw that the situation hadn't changed. He lay next to the lieutenant for a while longer until he began to feel cold. He needed to return to camp, heat up his MRE on the burner, eat, and go to sleep, but the sergeant didn't want to do that alone.

“Hey, Lt.” He whispered. “If you're at our camp, will you hear if anything changes here?”

“Yes.” Ghost replied.

“Then let's go have dinner.” Soap suggested and smiled.

Not long ago, the demon wouldn’t have understood such an offer, because he does not eat human food. Now, following Johnny, he realized that he felt something like joy at being invited to spend some time with the sergeant.

Ghost sat motionless near the tent while Soap heated up his dinner, chatting animatedly as usual. When the food was done, he sat down next to the lieutenant, took a spoon, and placed a metal plate on his lap.

“What do you think, Lt., what are they really doing in that hut?” He asked.

Ghost shrugged silently. He didn't care, and he didn't bother with empty speculation. In time, he and Johnny would find out for sure, and depending on the results of their surveillance, they would have two options: either make a move or quietly leave. There was nothing complicated about it, unlike what was going on between him and Soap. And the lieutenant was absolutely certain that something was going on.

“Do you have a family, Johnny?” Ghost asked unexpectedly.

“Aye.” Soap smiled in response. "My grandfather and father are retired military men. My mom is a retired teacher. I also have an older sister and a younger sister. My older sister has two children, my nephews. They're little devils, but I love them."

Ghost didn't answer, thinking that maybe he had a family too. Or maybe the people who were his relatives were still alive.

“And my parents have three cats!” Soap announced cheerfully, not forgetting to wield his spoon. “They're fat, lazy, and fluffy. You'd like them, Lt.”

“Yes.” Ghost agreed.

“Do you miss the cats at the base?” MacTavish asked, looking up from his food and glancing at the lieutenant.

Ghost paused, remembering the feeling he got when a bunch of fluffy creatures surrounded him on all sides and purred contentedly, enjoying the warmth. Or when they happily ate his food, which he now almost always took with him, much to the disappointment of Gaz and Roach, who were clearly delighted when Ghost allowed them to share his breakfast or lunch.

“Yes, I miss them.” The lieutenant finally replied in his emotionless voice.

Soap patted him sympathetically on the shoulder, putting down his empty plate, and from this simple gesture, Ghost suddenly felt a strange warmth inside: not physical, but no less pleasant.

“It's time for you to go to sleep, Johnny.” The lieutenant said.

“Aye, sir!” Soap replied cheerfully, getting up and stretching. “I'm just going down to the stream to wash my plate.”

“All right.” Ghost nodded and also got to his feet. “I'm going back. I'll wake you if I see or hear anything interesting.” He disappeared into the darkness without a sound, which still amazed both Soap and the rest of 141. The sergeant watched him go and then went to the stream to wash his dishes. After doing so, he sat for a while, smoked a cigarette, and crawled into his tent. Settling down as comfortably as possible in his sleeping bag, Soap fell asleep thinking about how much he missed Ghost's embrace, which gave him pleasant warmth and a feeling of absolute safety.

[darth-mortem]

My babies🥰

And a meme version😁

[darth-mortem]

Chech in before mission:

Knife ✅

Gun ✅

Tactical sergeant ✅

[darth-mortem]

So this was the page art I did for the Sunshine Soap Zine. 🧡 Soap and Ghost taking advantage of some quiet downtime on a mission as they wait to head back out again...