Chapter Text
This was just supposed to be recon. Watching a defunct chemical warehouse for any comings and goings indicative of cartel activity. They'd been dark in the office building across the way for nearly two days. No coms in or out, too dangerous if intercepted.
Soap tapped a rhythm out on his thigh, half watching the building and half watching his superior braiding a length of paracord. He knew Ghost would bitch at him for getting distracted but it wasn't Johnny's fault that everything the man did left him enraptured.
There was movement in the corner of his eye, a hatch opening where he hadn't realized there was one. "Ghost-" before he could finish the target fired.
"Johnny!" Soap dropped to the floor as the shot hit him. He felt a sharp pinch in his arm. Reaching out to touch the wound he felt a long metal cylinder. A fucking dart.
A single suppressed shot later and Ghost was kneeling in his field of vision. Soap winced as the dart was pulled out of his bicep. Ghost pulled him to his feet and gave him a once over.
"I got him, bastard was inside the fucken water tower over there." Soap followed his nod to a body half hanging out of a reserve tank, blood dripping from the hole in his skull.
"You get hit too?" Ghost nodded with an annoyed grunt. "Ye alright?"
"I feel okay, Mary knows what was in that."
"I don't get it. They had a clear shot, we didn't even see 'em." He rubbed at the small wound in his arm to soothe the ache the dart left behind. "Why dart us?"
"Might want us alive." Ghost was pacing, eyes trained in the direction the enemy's body fell. "Just hope I got him before he radioed anyone. Best case is we pass out for a few hours then get the fuck out of here."
Soap could feel his vision blurring at the edges and watched Ghost take two stumbling steps before sliding down to his knees. Ghost hit the ground hard before Soap felt his weak legs give out to deliver him the same fate.
Soap woke in the darkness, a lone streetlight barely flickering light into the room. He pushed himself up with a groan. It felt like he was choking on cotton, smothered by the oppressive heat in the room. He fished for the mag light he kept in the left breast pocket of his vest but only found a coiled length of paracord. Odd. He always kept his light there.
His head was pounding, he could barely see, barely breathe. Whatever had been in that dart had knocked him flat on his back. He pushed himself to his knees and crawled on shaky limbs towards their rucksack, pulling out a small lantern. He clicked it on and in the newfound light Johnny dropped it with a clatter.
He was staring at his own body.
Was he dead? He didn't feel dead. Looking closely at his body he could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest. Not dead. Dreaming then? It didn't feel like a dream either, he felt too much and nothing had a hazy sheen over it. But how?
His body stirred, groaning low as it opened its eyes and pitched upwards to a sitting position.
"What the bleedin’ fuck?" That was not his voice. But he knew it better than he knew any other than his own anyway. Pure fear coiled in his gut. His own eyes flashed to whatever corporeal form Soap currently inhabited, he had a pretty good guess.
"Who are you?" His own voice deep and snarling but lilting with an accent that was not his own.
His head was spinning. Johnny was going to faint. "I'm Soap. Fuckin'- Ghost?!"
He watched in horror as his own head bobbed in a nod. "You're…in me. Am I in you?"
Soap touched his face and felt the thick cotton and resin of Ghost's mask on his face. Explained the overwhelming heat. "Looks'it, aye."
Ghost screwed up Soap's face in confusion. "How?" He pushed up to his feet, Soap following suit until they stared at each other from across the room.
"Dunno, the dart?" Soap felt wobbly, he felt too tall and too big for the space he was in. Ghost approached him like a wild animal, steps tentative.
"Fucken hell, I'm tall." Ghost muttered, craning his neck up high to meet Soap's eyes. "How the fuck do ya not wither under that?"
Soap shifted uncomfortably, the balaclava feeling too tight on his mouth to speak clearly. "Under what?"
"That stare. It's…creepy."
Soap laughed, jarred again when it came out as Ghost's throaty chuckle. "It's your stare."
"No wonder everyone's afraid of me." Ghost reached up towards his face, Soap's massive hand wrapping around his wrist without any input from his brain. "That's gotta be a habit," he chuckled.
"You don't seem the least bit spooked by this."
"Fucken terrified, Johnny. S'kinda interesting too."
His limbs felt too long, his heart was pounding too fast, he felt too big for his skin. He started pacing, fingers clenching and unclenching in black skeleton gloves. Ghost came up behind him and guided him into the chair at the desk.
He was chuckling and Soap shot him a glare. "Your body handles anxiety better than mine." Ghost's hand came to rest on his nape, digging in and massaging deep circles into the tense muscles. Ghost leaned forward and Soap tried not to flinch at the sound of his own voice in his ear. "Let it keep you on your feet until we're back at the safe point. I'll help you wind down there."
An intense wave of heat crashed into him. He tried to fight it, tried to ignore it. He, well Ghost, was half hard and it was increasingly difficult to focus. Just adrenaline, fear, making the body act up and cross some wires. He shook off the weird mish-mash of shame and arousal, looking up into his own face.
"How do we get out of this?"
His body did well to hide any anxiety Ghost might have been feeling, he looked cool, calm. "Gotta wait it out. See if we swap back on our own before exfil and if not then we get to be test subjects. No use panicking about it, Johnny, can't fix it now."
Ghost risked flashing his maglight towards the opposite building. The body of their assailant still hung from the open hatch, undiscovered. Ghost nodded to himself. "Still clear. Let's get the fuck out of here."
They traipsed back to the safe point, keeping to shadowy alleys and poorly lit streets. His body still felt wrong but it was getting easier to move within it at least. Ghost kept behind him, watching his six like he always did.
They reached the apartment building, uncomfortably bright lighting and the hum of a hundred people living under one roof setting his teeth on edge.
Ghost nearly ran up the steps, "I feel like the wrong end of a shit stick. Need a fucken shower." Soap hummed in agreement as he followed Ghost down the dingy hallway to the apartment they'd been using as a safe house.
Ghost stopped short and it made Soap bump into his back. Jesus, his head didn't even reach Ghost's body's chin. He was fucking short.
"How should we…ya know?"
Soap just gave him a confused look and Ghost took a step back, eyes wide.
"Christ, everything I do is fucken intimidating." He scrubbed a hand over his mohawk, pulling at the strands lightly before staring at his hand incredulously as if the hairstyle had bit him. Shaking his head, he glanced up at Soap. "What should we do about cleaning up?"
Soap suddenly understood and took a moment to appreciate Ghost's consideration. "I mean ye can't exactly just neglect my body out of respect for me. Clean up. If ye gotta piss then take a piss." He brushed past Ghost to reach their door, tossing over his shoulder, "'Ave a wank if ye want it, the bastard has a mind of his own. Consider this explicit permission to take care of my body as you see fit, Ghost."
The Brit was silent behind him, Soap glanced over his shoulder to see how he flushed pink, Soap would call it pretty if that wouldn't sound narcissistic. Ghost, for the first time since Soap had met him, stuttered. "Same for you. My body es su body or whatever the fuck."
They opened the door and Johnny barely resisted the urge to duck when the door frame passed over his head so much closer than he was used to. He dropped their ruck on the tattered sofa and started shucking off armor, not caring much where it fell.
Down to a Henley and jeans he still felt weighed down and attempted to suck in a deep breath. It was muffled by the cotton stretched over his face.
He glanced at Ghost who was digging around in the tiny fridge for water bottles, tossing one to Soap. He felt a rush as his arm flew out to grab the bottle without an ounce of effort, fucking cat-like reflexes. Ghost settled into a chair at the dining table and leant back, letting a heavy sigh puff out of his chest.
"Can I?" Soap brushed his thumb along the hem of the mask. It was honestly driving him insane but he'd respect it if Ghost didn't want him to remove it.
"S'my own face. Just put it back on if ya leave." Ghost smirked at him, leaning forward on his palms. "The mask," he whined in Soap's voice. "Take it off."
"Haud yer wheesht," Simon balked at the scots coming from his own voice. "Or if you'd rather: shuddap." He was honestly quite pleased he managed to mimic Ghost so precisely.
"Fucken freaky."
Soap pulled the mask off of his head, taking in a few lungfuls of unobscured air. "No worse than hearing a manc accent coming from me own lips."
Ghost hummed, finishing his water and pitching himself to his feet with a groan. "Taking that shower. If you're still anxious don't try and turn on the telly, it'll just make it worse."
"So what, I just stew in me own thoughts?"
Ghost grinned, cuffing his shoulder. "I do it all the time, mate."
Soap sprawled out on the sofa. The sound of the shower started up and Soap tried to entertain himself and combat the nerves rolling through him by making shapes out of the water stains in the ceiling.
He was in Ghost’s body. His long limbs and rumbling voice under Soap’s control. Totally not panic attack inducing. He heard a soft noise in the bathroom and suddenly his ears were focused intently, straining to hear more.
There it was again. It sounded like a moan. Ghost really might be taking him up on that offer. His hips shifted uncomfortably and Soap noticed an entirely new predicament. He was achingly hard. Either his wires got insanely crossed during their switch or Ghost's body was really pent up.
Was it the thought of Ghost in the shower? He'd never let his mind stray this bad before. It couldn’t be the thought of his own body, that just felt odd. Maybe it was the fact that he'd given Ghost explicit permission to have a wank if he wanted? Was it the obvious (now that he noticed them) noises of self pleasure really enough to wind him up this badly?
Well, Ghost had said it was okay if he did too. He unbuckled his belt and wiggled the denim past his hips. The bastard was right massive, of course he was. The black fabric of his briefs stretched taut over his cock. Soap tentatively palmed over the length, hitching in a breath as his hips canted towards the touch. He indulged in another slow stroke but a strange sensation of a number of bumps had him stopping short. He pushed the briefs lower to have a look, pointedly ignoring the flash of black ink along this body's hips.
The sight before him had him leaping to his feet and yanking all clothing back into place.
He has fucking piercings.
That was so fucking sexy. He almost wished he'd never seen them so he could have discovered them on his knees for the man.
He shook his head until his brain felt like it was loose in his skull. Everything was weird and despite his head's turmoil the cock in his pants was achingly hard. Ghost’s cock. Which was huge, with piercings.
His opportunity was done with anyway, the shower had stopped a minute ago and he could now hear Ghost making his way back into the main room. The Brit had pulled one of his own hoodies on but wore Soap's sweats. Johnny felt a nonsensical ache of jealousy of his own damn body wearing Ghost's clothes. It was huge on his frame and it looked so soft. Heat still lapped at his gut as he looked at his form.
"Poor thing," Ghost tutted, eyes on his crotch. More waves of arousal coiled around Johnny even as humiliation burned his blood. "Shoulda warned ya that he's got a mind of his own too."
"Sorry to say you're probably gonna get him back mad as a bull."
"You didn't? S'fine if you want to. Lots of adrenaline today." Soap’s traitorous brain strayed to the thought that Ghost had already taken care of himself and he fought against the shiver along his spine.
"Feels weird."
"I gave you the same permission you gave me."
"I know, I know. I just…" he scrubbed a hand through his hair, the unfamiliar curls driving his sensory overload higher. "Feels weird. I feel too big and too…not me. I don't feel alone, it feels like you and it puts my head off."
Ghost chuckled, eyebrow raised. "I'm sure the piercings don't help."
Soap laughed, frustrated. "The piercings definitely do not help me pretend that this is not your dick."
"Could always give you a hand if you needed it." Ghost's tease made Soap immensely thankful the tight jeans obscured the wicked twitch of his cock.
"Maybe later," he tried to keep the hungry tone out of his voice but Ghost's throaty baritone made every word he spoke a seductive growl. "I'm honestly knackered."
Ghost hummed again. It sounded weird in his voice but Johnny was already accidentally building a habit just to hear it from Ghost's own throat. "Bed then. We can figure out more in the morning."
Ghost started towards the bedroom before Soap remembered. "Wait," Johnny's, no, Ghost's, well his but Ghost's but-fuck. The hand Soap was controlling stopped Ghost short. "Contacts. They'll burn like a bitch in the morning if you sleep in them."
"You wear contacts?" Ghost nearly went cross-eyed and Johnny had to smother a laugh. The Brit's eyebrows furrowed as if he could force them out by his glare alone.
"Aye. Don't really need 'em, my vision's good enough. But I wear 'em when I have to stay sharp." Ghost was pawing at his eye and Soap winced, knowing the uncomfortable itch when the lenses were noticed and unable to be ignored. "Let me."
He shucked Ghost's gloves off and tilted Ghost's head to look at the ceiling. "This is so fucking weird," Ghost mumbled, obeying the gentle push. Soap hummed in agreement as he carefully plucked the contacts out of each eye and dropped them in the trash bin.
"If my sight's disorienting I have glasses," he pulled out the case from his ruck and offered it to Ghost. The Brit blinked his eyes a few times and looked around before squinting slightly and taking the case.
He slipped the glasses on his face and looked in the small mirror in the sitting room. "Look at you," he purred. Soap ignored the overbearing heat that slithered around his throat.
"Hush, there's a reason I only wear 'em in my room." Ghost was making odd faces in the mirror as though the small frames were pure novelty. Johnny stifled another laugh.
"They suit you."
Soap grumbled and dropped back down to the sofa, finally leaning down to untie his boots and get some rest.
Ghost eyed him consideringly. "That won't work."
"What?"
The Brit gestured to the sofa, making an absurd pantomime to suggest Soap's new hulking form wouldn't fit.
Ghost had claimed the single bedroom and Soap was fine with the arrangement. He was going to let Simon keep it that way, even if his legs would dangle off the edge of the sofa.
"C'mon. You won't be able to stand up straight tomorrow if you sleep out here." Soap just stared at him and Ghost rolled his eyes. "My back. It can't handle a whole night on a shitty sofa, Johnny."
Soap followed him to the bedroom. "Where would you go then?" Simon smirked at him, glasses riding low on his nose. As an answer he crawled into bed, snuggled himself into his hoodie, and tucked himself in.
"Here. I like the bed." Ghost looked at him coyly and Soap felt a blush heat his face. Why was he reacting to himself like this? "There's enough room for us both."
With a sigh heavier than all of his years Johnny picked up the bundle of clothing set on the edge of the bed, assuming it to be Ghost's as nothing Soap had packed would fit. He muttered a "Fine," before making his way to the loo to change.
As he turned to close the bathroom door he heard Ghost chuckle, "Nothing I haven't seen before, Johnny." In response Soap flipped him off through the crack in the door.
He didn't flick on the light, only using the soft glow of the lamp in the bedroom to change. He wasn't sure if he could handle seeing Ghost's (almost assuredly) gorgeous body after everything else today.
When he slid under the sheets Ghost set his glasses on the bedside table and flicked off the lamp. A sleepy "Night Soap," and Ghost flipped to the side, facing away from Johnny.
Soap tried, okay? He tried to sleep in the long sleeved tee and sweats Ghost had pulled out for him. But the bastard ran hot and in his half asleep state he ended up pulling and kicking everything off, sighing comfortably as he settled into the sheets. He already felt infinitely more comfortable, letting sleep pull at his heavy eyelids.
He didn't even question when a heavy arm fell on his chest and a body pulled itself closer. He merely hummed and settled in, letting the sweet call of a decent night's sleep pull him under.