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Keegan's mask had already been halfway up his face, the product of sipping whiskey the whole night. Ghost would be lying If he said every time the glass was raised to thin, red, chapped lips, he didn't zero in on the action. More often than not, half-lidded, pale blue eyes would catch him and shine in indifference, even if the top of the glass hid a slight smirk.
Keegan had come straight from a mission, a wild goose chase looking for Logan, resulting in a well-needed drink. Who was Task force 141 to decline the tired soldier of hospitality, even if the sight of a similar mask set Ghost on edge. In the quiet stillness of his gaze, the broad frame of his shoulders, clad in black with weapons adorning his figure, the man looked the part of a war machine. And with the stories that Soap was whispering in his ear about the origin of the mask the man wore and the badge he proudly wore around his demeanor, Ghost's skin pricked with a challenge. The other was quiet, favoring to look around the room with silent wonder, gauging 141 and their antics, while Ghost favored to try and get a read off the quiet and mysterious man.
For the entire night, Ghost's eyes didn't leave the figure that was slumped into the couch with his knees high and legs spread, night gear on his head slightly askew, as the pale blue of eyes refocused with every conversation he was unwillingly dropped into.
With Johnny in his ear about the original 14 who gained their name of Ghosts because of their supernatural skill that killed an army, the immense mastery of the scout sniper that sat on their couch, and the rumor of one of their own turning against them, successfully kidnapping the son of the commander, Ghost hung on to the words with intrigue. Wondering just how far the skill of these Ghosts went, how far the skill of Keegan P. Russ went.
Was it all a legend or a reflection of the truth?
Ghost watched as Keegan rose from his spot on the couch and went into the kitchen, sparing a quick glance into the room where the rest of one-four-one resided. It was then Soap walked into his space where he watched over the room in the far corner, moving to stand next to him with their shoulders brushing. If it wasn't Johhny and his lack of understanding for personal space, Ghost would've flinched away from the close contact.
"If ya continue eye fucking 'im, I'm going to start feeling jealous." The rough, Scott-accented words sounded near his ear, knowing that Johhny moved his head to murmur the words so nobody nearby could hear the god-forsaken syllables.
Ghost kept his eyes forward, ignoring the stench of Scotch on Johhny's tongue, watching Price slap Gaz on the shoulder, obviously bragging about him to Laswell. "If you go missing, nobody would look for you."
Soap leaned his head back and let out a bark of laughter, letting it fade out as he regained his breath.
Soap was lucky Ghost didn't mind the fuckery that came out of his mouth.
"Just saying LT, looks could kill but yours could undress."
"Soap, shut up."
Soap let out a laugh again, moving away from the wall he was leaning on, "Aye sir!" as he went to go mingle with Price, most likely goading him into a debate over who the favorite Seargent is. (It's always Gaz).
Ghost moved towards the kitchen, disguising his intent on grabbing another drink, even though he had been sipping on the same glass of cheap bourbon all night. Once he made his way through the doorway, he was pushed up against the frame, a heavy arm across his chest, and his instincts kicked in to grab the knife at the base of his jeans to press against his assailant in the ribs. The haze in his head cleared from the sudden attack, eyes focusing on the pale eyes surrounded by dark eyeblack and mouth set in a flat line.
"You have a problem Ghost?"
His name was said with such disdain that it made his eyes narrow. The drawl of an American accent reached his ears as the half-lidded eyes shone at him in a challenge. Normally, the pronunciation of syllables in an American's voice repulsed him, but the way Keegan's deep gruff voice curled around his name, sent a shiver down his spine, settling in the pit of his stomach.
Ghost cocked his head, goading the American into pressing his arm further into his chest, noting there was no weapon in any of his hands. Either the man was stupid or confident, two dangerous things for him when in front of Simon "Ghost" Riley.
"No, Russ, just grabbing a drink."
At the sound of the other door opening, Keegan let Ghost loose as he stepped back, eyes still zeroed in on the mask concealing his identity. Ghost in turn swiftly placed the knife where it belonged and watched as Soap came into the kitchen.
"Sorry, spilled my beer 'n it got all over my hands."
Ghost nodded, catching Soap's eye, watching how he looked above the pair and his eyes glinted with mischief. Soap moved behind Keegan and Ghost followed his every move, especially when his lips curled into a smirk and mouthed mistletoe. Soap washed his hands as Ghost's nerves clicked into horror. Somehow, this entire thing was Johhny's fault and Ghost was going to kill him for it.
When Soap left the kitchen, Ghost returned his eyes to the man before him. Watching the other gnaw at his uncovered lips, eyes returning to their disinterested state, while his arms are crossed in front of him, his index fingers tapping into his biceps. The other opened his mouth to speak again, "Why have you been mad dogging me the entire night."
Ghost would answer if he knew the answer to the question. He didn't even know himself, except he wanted to know if the stories Soap told him were true. But instead, his shoulders raised a millimeter in silence, opting for a shrug, rather than voicing his interest.
Keegan's eyes narrowed again, his gaze sliding up and down Ghost's body, trying to find any tell of an ulterior motive, but finding none.
Soap passed the doorway Ghost was standing in from where he was pushed against the frame, whispering "80 pounds" as he walked but. Ghost feigned he didn't hear him but instead he was readying himself for the action that was about to occur. Before him, Keegan scoffed and rolled his eyes, moving towards Ghost to leave the room, but before the man could step through, Ghost grabbed him but the tactical vest and pushed him into the position Ghost was once in. It was then he felt a knife prick at his many layers, the sensation delightful as the heavy breathing of the Marine was underneath his palm.
They made eye contact, his dark brown meeting the slate grey blue of Keegan as dark lashes framed his eyes. At this angle they shined brighter, looking up at Ghost in anticipation, waiting for his next move, trying to decide if the knife was going to travel past his layers of clothing and into his flesh. Ghost lifted the hand that wasn't pinning down Keegan up to the end of his mask, binging the fabric just below his nose to reveal his mouth. Ghost watched as the half-lidded gaze slipped from his eyes to his mouth, the pupils tracing the outline of his full lips.
It was Ghost who closed the distance, surging forward with hunger as the tip of the knife disappeared and a hand grabbed at his jacket. Pulling him impossibly closer, the gear on Keegan's tactical vest poking him in the chest, but the taste of whiskey on the other's tongue overwhelmed whatever feeling he had previously registered. Ghost pushed Keegan further into the doorway, swallowing the deep groan that was let out as he tipped his head forward more to deepen the kiss. Their teeth knocked together, their masks rubbing together which each shift of their heads, desperately trying to find a better angle, their lips growing swollen with the abuse, the breath being stolen from their lungs.
Keegan pulled away first, helmet still on, clacking against the frame, as he stared up at Ghost. His tongue peeked out to lick at his even redder lips and Ghost can feel the phantom feeling of the way those chapped, but soft lips felt against his. Keegan tilted his chin up, moving his head to slowly move back in to kiss Ghost, but Ghost stayed where he was, watching in anticipation as the distance between them grew lesser. When he felt the ghost of lips over his, he parted his mouth, waiting for the press, but instead, a set of teeth clamped on his lower lip. Rolling it between the teeth it was captive to, while a tongue traced the swollen flesh. All the while, those beautiful fucking eyes kept their stare with his and when Keegan released his lip, he closed the distance with a soft kiss, soothing the pain in Ghost's bottom lip. Kissing away the sting of teeth and heat steadily rising in his stomach.
They kissed languidly for a few more moments, fervor gone but still underlying in the way Keegan grabbed the collar of Ghost's jacket. Once they had their fill, Keegan planted one last kiss on Ghost's lips, tonguing the scar that lay home there, and slipped away, pulling his mask back down over his chin. Ghost was left struck by the sudden action, disappointment slowly flickering in his veins as the broad back disappeared around the corner to return to the others.
Ghost stood there with his mask below his nose, lips pulsing from the constant bites, pants significantly tighter, and head still hazy from the event that just occurred. He was broken out of it when somebody else walked into the kitchen. Soap slapped a few bills into his hand and walked out with another slap to his shoulder, lazily calling out behind him with a wave of his hand, "Like a good ol' boy, aye SI?"
Ghost was going to kill him.