Chapter Text
"Alright, took us for-fuckin'-ever, but here we are: the old McMartin Manor. Ain't she pretty?" Soap turns the camera away from himself, panning over a sprawling house. The setting sun reflects off of the dozens of windows, casting the whole shot in hues of orange and green. With how it's tucked in amongst the trees and sporting an overgrown garden, it's obvious no one's been here in a very long time.
"We would have gotten here sooner if you'd let me drive."
The camera shifts from the old house to focus on Ghost pulling their gear from their truck. Dressed head to toe in black, as usual, he looks out of place in the English countryside. "Ey, it was my turn behind the wheel. You get to get us outta here, and then you can stop sayin' I drive like an ol' maid."
“Stop driving like an old maid, and I won’t have to say it,” Ghost huffs, resting a tripod over his shoulder and turning to face Soap.
“Har har.”
Ghost rolls his eyes and gestures towards the house. “Come on. Let’s get set up before it gets dark.”
"Roger that. Was told that the real fun happens when the sun goes down, so we don't wanna miss a minute." Soap's already grinning, excited for tonight's hunt. With the rumors that surround this place, he's hoping that this will be the night they finally catch something. "Wanna set up a camera lookin' a little farther in? Ya know, in case a cheeky ghostie wants to watch us set up? Heard this place was a real hotspot."
He's got the camera pointed at Ghost again, knowing he'll get snapped at to turn the damn thing off. Keeps hearing that the other man is tired of editing himself out of their videos, no matter how much Soap says the fans love him.
But Ghost isn’t looking at Soap or the camera anymore. He’s gazing up at the house, silent and all but frozen except for the rise and fall of his chest. His brow furrows as his eyes seem to be tracking something.
When Soap looks back to the house, he doesn’t see anything.
"Don't tell me you're already spooked. We've been to nastier places, and this is the one that's gonna getcha?" Soap shakes his head, looking between Ghost and the house in front of them. "Compared to them, this place looks downright cozy t' me."
Ghost is rooted in place, though. So, Soap walks past him to their truck, putting the handheld down on the hood so he can help haul equipment.
“‘M not spooked,” Ghost grumbles back, though his gaze is still locked in a staring contest with specifically the upper story window, third from the right.
“You’re spooked in the head, lad.” Soap snorts. “Now, help me out, or I’ll leave you out here alone.” Or I’ll go inside alone.
That seems to shake Ghost awake, and he’s suddenly pushing in front of Soap to enter the house first. Soap just rolls his eyes and sets down their toolkits on the porch before heading back to the truck for more.
Soap's got the rest of their gear hanging from his shoulders and piled in his arms, nearly bursting at the seams with how excited he is to actually start investigating here. This could be the place. He nearly wrecks it all, though, when he has to fumble to keep his grip, an icy chill going down his spine and through him.
"Jesus wept. What was that?" Soap looks down to see his bare arms lined with goosebumps and his pulse picks up with excitement. Everything is unceremoniously dumped on the porch as he's rushing back to grab the handheld, hoping it caught something.
Batteries are dead.
The batteries are dead.
"Oh fucking hell. Ghost! Ghost! You think you're spooked before, look at this shit!" Soap's busting into the house, a manic grin already tugging at his mouth.
Ghost jumps from where he’s setting up a tripod and whips his head over to look at Soap. “Jesus… What? What happened?” His eyes narrow, but he’s looking at a spot behind Soap’s head. “Are you okay?”
"Right as rain, but look." He's shoving the camera in Ghost's face, pressing the power button over and over again to no result. "Felt a blizzard go through me and then saw that this thing was drained. Could have just been a coincidence, as usual, but fuck what a way to start the night, ey?"
When he focuses back in, he actually looks at Ghost. "You even listening to me, mate?"
“Uh huh. You felt a breeze, and the camera is dead. Big ghost evidence there,” Ghost says, looking away from the empty space behind Soap. He takes the drained camera out of his hands. “I’ll get the replacements. Use the other one for now.”
"I barely had it running for thirty minutes and it's already dead. Sure. That sounds like how the damn thing works." Soap huffs as he starts the other camera up. "It was a fuckin' cold wind, I'll let you know. Felt like death, and my hair was standing up..."
He trails off, banging on the side of the camera. "You've got to be kidding me. This one's actin' up, too. Keeps going all blurry. We've got the GoPros still, right? And lots of spares? Think tonight's gonna be hell on the gear."
“Maybe we should just say fuck this place,” Ghost says, even as he digs through a tool chest for the GoPros. Getting Soap to leave a site early is a fight he never wins. “It’s probably sitting on some kinda electrical field or somethin’ that’s messing with our stuff.”
"Electrical fields. Listen to y'rself. There wasn't anything like that that showed up in the research I did. As long as something works, we're staying." He power cycles the spare camera, a pleased noise leaving him as the video focuses this time. "See, just a wee bit of technical difficulties, but we're back on track. No gettin' outta this one, Ghost."
Soap's even more giddy now, quick to snatch the GoPro out of Ghost's hands, "Oh, this is workin', too," and starts strapping it to himself.
There's a long pause as Soap sets the handheld down and starts fiddling with the GoPro rig, making sure that everything is steady and fits right. It's still enough that he can almost feel another chill go down his spine and he could almost swear there were eyes boring holes into him, but when he looks up, Ghost is focused on his own gear. "You don't got a staring problem, do ya? Could swear someone's trying to peer into my soul."
Ghost looks up as he snaps the last strap of his rig into place. He’s looking behind Soap again, and Soap could swear he saw anger flash through Ghost’s eyes. “It ain’t me.” The chill around Soap seems to dissipate at Ghost’s ominous words. “I see your ugly mug enough as it is.”
"Aw, don't say that. I know you think I'm downright bonnie. I've caught you looking enough." Soap pushes closer so he can grin up at Ghost and flutter his eyelashes. He knows they're in perfect view of the handheld and, if the batteries held, their viewers are gonna eat this up.
Ghost just stares down at Soap with unblinking and unamused eyes for a long minute.
“Uh huh.”
Ghost pushes Soap away with a hand to the face, walking around him to check on the other cameras and microphones. His cheeks under his mask feel warm, but like hell is he gonna let Soap get to him at a time like this. Especially in view of the cameras.
"One day I'll get you to tell me I'm pretty. I swear it." Soap's quick to follow, trusting Ghost to make sure everything's running, but having the urge to keep close. That chill's still lingering and he's starting to wish he wore a longer shirt, but if he sticks close to Ghost he can feel like the other man's warming him up.
"You, uh, read over the files I left you, right? With the murders in the basement, the poor lady in the attic, and all the nasty shit that happened in the bedrooms we've got a lot of ground to cover. You think we brought enough tripods to leave a stationary cam on each floor and then we wander with the handheld and our gear?"
“When do I ever not read over the essays you send me?” Ghost grunts. Not that he needs to read them, but he does anyway. “As long as the batteries don’t drain again, we should have enough. This area should be good to go if we wanna start here and then head up or down.”
"I'm just checkin'. Been waiting for the day you crack and decide to give up on my crazed ramblings." Sliding past and bumping their hips together, Soap starts leading the way upstairs. "I've been thinking and I figured our best bet would be to set up a cam and an EVP in the attic, poke around a bit there, then head to the basement and really work our way up."
Soap's looking around as he talks, his eyes catching on the eerie sepia photos that line the walls. "The cute lass I talked to said that the spooks upstairs tend to be more shy, figured they might wanna mess with our stuff while we rile up the nasties downstairs. I was also told that those blokes like to make a lot of noise. It'll be like Christmas if we get to hear it for ourselves."
Ghost makes sure his camera is functioning and recording the back of Soap’s head as he follows him closely up the stairs. “Uh huh. Christmas.” He flips on the EMF meter on his hip and watches as the lights stabilize.
"Come off it. You can't tell me you're not at least a little excited. I know I've said it before and it's turned out to be a bust, but I've got a good feeling about this place." Soap turns to grin at Ghost even if it will look eerie from the nightvision in his camera.
And I have a bad one, Ghost thinks but doesn’t voice. He knows he’s supposed to be the yin to Soap’s yang as a bit in their show, but Ghost doesn’t like raining too much on Soap’s parade. This is his passion, and it’s Ghost’s responsibility to help and keep Soap safe.
Plus, Soap’s smile is too damn cute.
“Yeah, yeah.” He pokes Soap in the back. “Let’s hurry up then so we can get to the basement.”
With a bark of a laugh, Soap's leading them past the floor with the bedrooms and up to the attic. The door opens with a creak, the last bits of the setting sun covering the dusty, cluttered room in a hazy orange that shows up an even more hazy green on the camera. "Alright. I was thinking the EVP here and the camera at the other end to cover the whole room. I heard the door opens and shuts, so I wanna catch that."
As Ghost works on the equipment, Soap walks around, catching what he can with the GoPro. "Hey, Adelaide. I'm Soap and that big lug over there is Ghost. We heard you were trapped up here and like to move things around now. We're gonna be hanging around here tonight, so feel free to mess with stuff or us. If you've got anything to say, there's gonna be a box covered in lights, we should be able to hear you in that."
“Try to speak clearly, Miss Adelaide,” Ghost adds in a quiet voice, flicking on the device. “As close as you can to this.”
He takes a step back and gives a slight nod to an empty corner of the room before checking on the stationary camera and finally making his way back to Soap. “Didn’t you bring an offerin’? A flower?”
"Right. Right. Lemme just..." Soap digs through his bag until he pulls out a fabric rose, which he lays across a cloth covered object that looks suspiciously like a piano. "I debated on getting you the real thing or not, but figured this was better 'cause it'll last forever and not leave a mess. Didn't wanna leave you something that would just rot."
Soap flushes with embarrassment, really hoping that there is a ghost here and he's not just being sweet for no reason. Their fans will appreciate it at the very least.
"I, uh, hope you like it. We're gonna leave y' be for now, don't mind us if you hear hollering downstairs. None of that's meant to bother you none, so you know."
Ghost smiles beneath his mask, his eyes crinkling just enough to make the viewers aware of it. He loves how kind and thoughtful Johnny is. “You wooing the spirits now, eh?” he teases as they make their way back down.
"Nothing like that. Just figured the lass had a bad enough time in life, no point in making the afterlife worse." Soap rubs at his neck bashfully, but ends up pausing and full on scratching at his hairline as he swears he feels a tickle there.
"Hold up here. I wanna leave a camera at the end of this hall to watch all the bedroom doors, then we can keep going."
Ghost just nods, eyes lingering on Soap for a moment, before he gets to work positioning the camera. After a quick check that it’s working, he gives a thumbs up and continues following Soap back down the stairs.
“Why do you think so many have died here?” Ghost asks when there’s a bit of a lull and his editing brain says they need filler content. “Did the first death set off a chain of events, or is the location itself… cursed or somethin’?”
"The people I've talked to, and a lot of the stuff I got online, said that there's a darkness on this property, but I'm not so sure myself. When we drove in here I realized this place is damn far off the beaten path and there's no neighbors in sight. Can't imagine that it's easy to get in and out of here in the winter." Soap pauses, chewing his lip as he catches Ghost's eye.
"I think the gent that built this place was a loon and got cabin fever after being snowed in one too many times. Story goes that he killed his wife and three little ones in their beds before offin' himself in the basement. No one found them 'til the spring thaw." Soap pulls a face, looking disgusted.
"Could you imagine buying this place, hearing that story, and then getting snowed in yourself? Doesn't surprise me at all to hear that people so inclined got that idea in their heads and snapped."
“Maybe they watched The Shining too much,” Ghost says with a snort, casting a look around as they go. He really hopes there’s no spirits of children around. “As long as I was stocked up on food and water, I wouldn’t mind being snowed in by myself for a while. Sounds peaceful.”
"Yeah. Yeah. You're the stoic loner type, not some rich prat buying up a manor without realizing what he's getting into. You've told me plenty of retiring on your own in the countryside or finding some cabin on a mountain somewhere." Soap sidles up next to Ghost, laying a hand on his arm. "Think you're built of tougher stuff than any of the people whose lives ended here, Ghost."
“Now, I never said that none,” Ghost says, leaning into Soap’s space. “Some of the people who died here didn’t have a choice in the matter. Wasn’t their fault. I’m sure Adelaide was tougher than me by a long shot.” He reaches over and taps Soap’s hip gently. “And I do suppose I’d miss you after a few months on my lonesome.”
Soap flushes, stopping in his tracks before hurrying to catch back up with Ghost. "Ah. No disrespect to Miss Adelaide. Was thinking more of that nasty ones that are here."
He points the handheld towards himself, making sure he catches his grin and the giddy shake of his shoulders. "Knew you wouldn't know what to do on your own. Everyone always goes on about how much you've got to be annoyed with my yammerin', but I know you wouldn't wanna be without me. You do care about lil ol' me."
Ghost hums and gives Soap a cheeky eye squint. “Well, I do know how to shut you up if you get too annoying.” Taking hold of Soap’s hand, he turns the camera towards himself and looks directly into it. “But I don’t need to be giving away my secrets now.”
He winks before letting go.
A loud bark of laughter rumbles in Soap's chest, already excited for this video to go out. "Aye, that you do. Managed to find my off switch rather easy."
His teasing is punctuated with a bump to Ghost's hip, but Soap over does it and almost tangles their legs together.
“Woah, there. Down, boy.” Ghost chuckles, reaching out to steady them both before either of them fall and break their expensive equipment. His fingers linger on Soap for a moment more before he steps away. “Alright, let’s reel it in. Basement door is around this corner. You wanna do the honors?”
"'Course I do, but just 'cause I know you want the ghosties to get me first. No need for you to get all spooked like you do when I get you to wander into the dark first."
Soap's fingers curl around the handle for the basement, the door opening with a needlessly theatrical creak. "Alright, Arthur McMartin, you old bastard, hope you're ready to deal with us."
“I don’t,” Ghost mumbles low enough that it gets garbled by his mask. Tugging a flashlight from his belt, he clicks it on and follows Soap down the creaking steps. They probably should have checked them for rot first, but they hold well enough to get them to the bottom.
The basement is dark and damp. The smell of dirt and mildew fill the air. Ghost sweeps his light around, scanning the room quickly. There’s a lot of dark corners behind old furniture and the such that he can’t see into, and it sets him on edge.
"Oh. It's real spooky down here," Soap narrates. "Some places we go to have a feeling to them and this whole area just feels heavy, like something's trying to push me down. Is that weight you, McMartin? You're still lingering after you sucked your pistol off? Or is it Harry Walter? Heard you stuck your head in the furnace after you locked poor Adelaide up there to die. You assholes just couldn't leave this place could you? And now you gotta hide in the dark and fuck with everyone who sets foot in what used to be your house."
Soap knows he's laying it on thick, but he needs the evidence he's been searching for. Hopes that this could be the place. Pulls out his EMF and looks around the basement.
Ghost stays quiet, splitting up from Soap briefly to get footage of one side of the basement and poke his nose into a few tight spaces. When he doesn’t see anything out of the ordinary he breathes a sigh and turns back to Soap.
He freezes in his tracks only a second before their EMF meters go wild.
"Oh! Hello, ghosties, there y' are!" Soap's eyes light up as he looks around, his smile turning wild. "That was a pretty good opening move. Now that we know you're here, you wanna make some noise? I've heard you're real good at that. Like scaring lots of folks that come down."
The darkness feels oppressive around him, thick in a way that makes it hard for Ghost's flashlight to penetrate and even through the night vision, things in the room are dark and soupy.
“Johnny.”
Ghost’s voice even sounds far away.
An icy touch crawls up Soap’s spine. There’s no breeze this time, but Soap knows it’s the same as the one from earlier. It’s seeping into his bones, making his hair stand on end and goosebumps ripple across his skin. The air is growing thicker, fog puffing out in front of his face.
The touch wraps around his throat.
“Hey!”
Ghost’s hand lands hard against Soap’s shoulder and the coldness is ripped away.
"Whoa." Soap breathes, looking wide-eyed at Ghost. He puts his own hand to his throat, the warmth shocking after the freezing hold on him.
"Did you feel that, Si-Ghost?" Fuck. He knows Ghost is protective of his identity on their channel, but Soap's brain feels like it's misfiring. "Everything got dark and suffocating. It was like I was being frozen by fingers - like that chill I felt outside - but more. I coulda sworn someone put their fingers around my neck."
“Are you okay?” Ghost asks, running a large palm across Soap’s chest like he’s checking to make sure he’s still solid. There’s a heavy set in Ghost’s brow, anger bubbling below worry.
"Uh huh, just gave me a fright. That was awesome. Means we hit that jackpot." He's pulling out of Ghost's touch too soon, looking around the basement again. "Oh, you're a feisty one, ain't ya? Just wanna get yours hands all over whatever you can?"
Soap spins around, his voice echoing off the dusty walls. "I was gonna invite ya to touch, maybe push me around, if it'd give me a sign that you were there, but I see you're the kind to just jump right on in. Don't think I'm gonna give that offer out again if you're not gonna be a gentleman about it."
“Can’t keep his damn hands to himself,” Ghost growls, keeping close to Soap even as he moves. Their EMFs are still blinking high readings, but there’s no other movement besides dust motes in the air that Soap will probably claim are orbs later.
“You wanna try the spirit box?” Ghost suggests against his better judgment.
"If you're the one suggesting it... I know it bothers your head." Soap turns so he can dig through Ghost's bag, looking for the spirit box. He pauses and lifts a hand to brush his thumb along Ghost's jaw. "Did you remember your earplugs this time? Don't want you getting one of your migraines when dodgy shit's happening."
Ghost can’t help the way he softens into Soap’s touch, relaxing into the warmth for just a moment. “Uh huh.” He pulls the plugs from his pocket and puts them in, giving Soap a thumbs up. “Good to go.”
"Alright. Brace yourself for this." Soap powers up the spirit box, the garbled cut off noises filling the dank quiet of the basement. "This mess of noise is the spirit box. It shuffles through radio frequencies, giving the ghosties something to work off of. If we get solid phrases, it means something out there wants to chat us up."
Soap hates having to over explain shit, but it's all part of the show.
"Whoever's down here and getting handsy, you wanna give me your name? Say it into this box and we might even be able to hear you."
The crackles and pops of the spirit box stay consistent for a minute, Ghost wincing slightly and glaring at the space above it. He’s about to say something when suddenly stuttered words work their way through the static.
“Fuck you.”
"What? ‘Fuck you’? Now ain't you just a rude one? Ghost? Are you hearing this?" With an eye roll, Soap carries on. "I'm gonna need more to know that you're really here. How'd y' die? Can you say that? Or anythin' else?"
“Hot… Pain… That bitch deserved it.”
Ghost’s eyebrows raise. They usually don’t get that many words to come through the static. He looks to Soap before back to the empty space in front of them with a frown.
Oh. Oh. That was shockingly clear and succinct.
Soap's lip gets chewed to bits as he mulls the words over. "Hot... Deserved it..."
Suddenly his expression is turning harsh and his head is whipping around like if he can just see the spirit then he can get his hands on it. "So it's Harry Walter being so rude to me, then, I shoulda guessed. I've never wanted to box a ghost before, but I'd make an exception for you, y' bastard. I've met some people I've sworn came straight from Hell, but after hearin' what you did in this house... You were just heartless, weren't you?"
He's getting louder and louder as he gets more and more worked up, close to hollering over the spirit box. He's steaming so hard, it feels like his vision is clouding and his head's starting to pound, but he's just so angry.
"You deserved more than y' got, Harry!"
The old furniture in the basement begins to rattle. The metal of the furnace door creaking as it opens and then slams shut.
Ghost slips an arm around Soap’s waist and tugs him close, a solid weight against his back.
“Johnny… Don’t antagonize him.” Ghost is glaring at the emptiness now, and Soap can feel the tingle of cold fingers batting at his nose.
“Can’t… protect… forever.”
"Wha-" The need to argue bubbles up in Soap's chest, he's just doing his job for the channel. Though they've never run into anything like this before. "Simon. Simon, what's happening?"
Pressing himself into Ghost's hold helps Soap clear his head enough to focus and see what's going on with the room. This isn't how he wanted his proof and cold fear starts to leech up his spine.
“It’s okay. I’ve gotcha,” Ghost says into Soap’s ear, squeezing him gently. “It’s a very angry spirit. When people like him die, some of the residual anger can hang in the air. Feeding into it just gives him more power to work with.”
The static of the spirit box crackles like laughter.
"First he thinks he can get his hands all over me, and then he uses me? The absolute fuckin' gall of that bastard," Soap hisses, feeling the anger bubble up again. Feeling dirty wherever his skin is exposed.
Half of him wants to sink into Ghost's hold further, have him drag them both up the stairs and away from this place, but the other half... The other half wants to claw out of Simon's arms and burn this place to the ground.
“I won’t let him touch you again,” Ghost growls softly. “Take a deep breath, Johnny. Turn the box off. We have good footage. We can leave now.”
“Run… Rabbit.”
"Is he... Is he mocking us?" Soap pulls against Ghost's hold, still feeling compelled to fight. "I'll kill him, Ghost. I'll burn this fucking place so he can't hurt anyone. I won't let him think he's won."
Soap can feel his head clouding again, he tries to take deep breaths, but it just makes him feel like a bull getting ready to charge. Even with Ghost's presence a hot brand against him, the rest of him feels like there's cold seeping in.
“He’s already dead, Johnny! He didn’t win! Don’t let him in your head. He’s just a bloody poltergeist!” Ghost yanks back, taking a step towards the stairs. He’s half a second away from carrying Soap up them just to get away.
"I can't! Simon. I can't. Let me go!" Soap claws at Ghost's arms, his whole body needing to go. The spirit box falls from his hands as he struggles, wiggling around until he can push at Ghost's chest, trying to break his hold like that. Now that he's facing him, though, he catches Ghost's stressed, worried look and his brain clears for just a moment. "Simon... I don't know what I'm doing."
“I know, love,” Ghost says. “Just hang on tight.”
And with that, Ghost bends and rams his shoulder into Soap’s stomach, causing him to flop forward. Ghost can feel Soap clawing at his back, but he ignores it as he stands and carries Soap like a sack of potatoes up the creaky basement stairs. He kicks the door closed behind them and doesn’t set Soap down until they’re outside next to their truck.
Once he's on his feet, Soap's pushing himself back into Ghost's arms, clinging to him as his whole body shakes. His head is spinning and he feels like he can't trust his own thoughts. "Don't let go, Simon. If you let go I'm going to run back in there. I don't want to, but I can feel it. It's like I'm being gripped and dragged back. Like those hands are in me and pulling."
“Hush now, Johnny,” Ghost says, holding him tight. “You’re safe. You’re okay. I’ve gotcha.” He presses kisses to Soap’s temple and cheek through his mask, too afraid of letting go to pull it off. “I’m here, love.”
"Don't go." Soap gasps. Something in his head says if Ghost pulls away now he's going to lose him forever, even if the rest of him knows that would never happen. "Simon. What's wrong with me? What do we do?"
“It’s alright, Johnny. He just fed off your energy a little.” Ghost sighs but it’s shaky, his arms tightening around Soap. “I’m so sorry I didn’t get to you faster. I didn’t think he’d… I thought I was closer to you. Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
"No. No. 's not your fault. You warned me to tone it down." Soap tucks his face into the space between Ghost's shoulder and jaw, breathing in his cologne and laundry detergent and the damp smell neither of them could ever seem to get out of their gear. "Simon," he breathes after a long while of quiet. "That was real, wasn't it? I really cocked things up. I'm messin' with things I shouldn't, aren't I?"
Breathing a laugh, Ghost tilts his head to the side and presses his cheek to Soap’s. “Yeah, that was real, Johnny,” he says, closing his eyes and focusing on the beating of Soap’s heart pressed to his chest. They’re smashing their GoPros between them, but Ghost couldn’t care less. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t know. I didn’t know. If I had, I would’ve cleansed that fucker out of there before we came to shoot or something. Given you a…” He hums and shifts slightly. “Hey, reach into my pocket on my belt. Find the little jar in there that looks like it’s filled with sticks.”
"Fuck. I don't know if now's the time to be gettin' handsy." Soap attempts to joke, but his heart's not in it and the words come out too flat. Now is the time for him to listen, though, and Soap blindly reaches into the pouch that hangs from Ghost's belt: the one that Soap gave him hell for 'cause it made him look like he was pulled from some kind of game.
There are several little jars in that pocket, Soap finds, and he shakes them until he finds the one that feels right. It ends up grasped in his fist and clutched to his chest as he keeps trying to bury himself in Ghost. "Something like this is making me think that you know more about this ghost stuff than you've been letting on. We're gonna have to talk about that."
“I’ve been telling you all along that I can see spirits, love. It’s not my fault you thought I was joking or just spooked,” Ghost says with a soft laugh. His head tilts down to look at the jar grasped in Soap’s hand between them. “Keep that on you. It’ll make poltergeists like that bastard, and other beasties, think twice about getting near. I thought having it on me would be enough to cover us both, but…” He sighs and closes his eyes, pressing his forehead to Soap’s.
"But I managed to really piss this one off and it slipped past you..." Soap finishes for him, knowing that whatever Ghost was going to say was going to end up too self deprecating for his liking. "I'd say I shoulda listened to you, but y' gotta know it's felt like you've just been takin' the piss this whole time. Me running around like a loon tryin' to prove I'm right and you following along saying you can see ghosties like it's nothin'."
Ghost can’t help but laugh, shaking Soap in his arms. “Yeah, I get it. It’s hard to get them to show up to you on camera, and we’ve never run into anything like Mr. Walter in there. That bastard is somethin’ else. Angry as fuck and determined to take everyone down with him.”
A shiver goes down Soap's spine as his mind conjures the fresh memory of hands and hate. "Y' can say that again. I was more than ready to go back to my pyro days and just... Destroy it all."
He pulls a face, trying to catch Ghost's gaze again for the reassurance that they're both fine and here together. "We gotta tango with him again, though, Simon. I dropped the damn spirit box and the rest of our equipment is all over the rest of the house."
“I know.” Ghost hums, bumping his covered nose to Soap’s. “I’ve got salt in the truck. I can cleanse him out while you wait out here. Once he’s gone, we can get our stuff and say bye to Miss Adelaide.”
"No. No. I know it's not smart, but I won't let you go back in there alone." Soap tucks the jar into his pocket and grips the front of Ghost's shirt, clinging as tightly as he can. "I can't stay out here and just wait; hopin' he doesn't get you. Just... tell me what to do. You can lead this one. I've got your six, and I won't leave you."
Soap tilts his head, pressing a kiss near where he thinks Ghost's mouth is under the mask.
Ghost wants to argue. Wants to make Soap stay outside where it’s safe. Where Ghost won’t have to see that look of fear in his eyes again.
But he can’t. Not when Soap is determined like this. All arguments would fall on deaf ears, and any anger would only excite their problem in the basement.
Sighing, Ghost nods and reaches up to tug his mask down. “Kiss me proper, Johnny, and I’ll teach you how to bust a ghost.”
"Don't have to tell me twice." Soap leans back just enough that he can get a proper look at Ghost in the moonlight; drinking in every detail of him that he can while still clinging to his front. Then he's eagerly leaning in to press their lips together, not realizing just how much he needed Ghost kissing him.
Big hands come up to cradle his jaw as Ghost kisses back, breathing warmth and life back into Soap. It’s like a refreshing drink after a hard days work. It settles his mind and renews his energy.
When Ghost pulls back after a long moment, it’s with a playful nip to Soap’s bottom lip and a soft smile. “Atta boy, Johnny,” he drawls, brushing his thumb across Soap’s cheek.
"I know." The smile Soap shoots back is real and warm. Kissing Ghost settles everything that was skewed in his head and makes him feel like himself again. Moments like this remind him just how much it feels like coming home whenever he can fit himself into Ghost's arms. "Shit. Could stay like this forever."
“Aye, me too.” Ghost kisses Soap once more before he’s reluctantly pulling back. Holding Soap’s face in his hands, Ghost memorizes how his features look bathed in moonlight. “We’ve got a job to do, though. You ready?”
"As I'll ever be." He turns his face just enough to press his lips to Ghost's palm while he can. "'m not excited, you know, but I'm chomping at the bit to get some of your secrets and to go back in there knowin' the situation better."
Ghost smiles and hums. “Alright.” He tugs his mask up over his nose after giving Soap one more kiss. “Fall in.”