"Good morning, sunshine."
"Go away." He clenches his eyes against the offending light, hoping his stiff tone would warn Soap away. Yet his Captain is never wary of him like most of the other soldiers were. There was a fine line of respect, but never that cautionary disposition he often felt lurking within the eyes of other soldiers. So when Soap offers up his sweetly annoying laugh, Ghost can only snort and mumble a curse into his pillow.
"Come on, mate," his Captain coos, his weight shifting the bed as he has wandered back from opening the curtains. "You can't sleep all day."
"Watch me," he growls. But a soft shiver coaxing up his spine from lips tracing up the curve of his ear, lures away most of his drowsiness with surprise. The rough whiskers of Soap's short-trimmed beard tickle his neck as those damned lips place feather-light kisses upon his vulnerable skin. "But I made you coffee. And if you just lay here, all that work will go to waste," Soap complains. Ghost shifts with a grumble and peeks up at his Captain's handsome face to see that humored grin: 'I win'. "Humph," he snorts, none to pleased with that expression. But his cranky attitude only amuses Soap, and his grin grows bigger.
'Only you,' Ghost muses in his mind, half-annoyed, half-appreciative. Still, he readily accepts the tender kiss Soap offers him, nipping his Captain's lip when he pulls away to show his lack of appreciation for this wake-up call.
"Coffee, love?" Ghost nods and settles back into his pillow, not quite ready to leave the warmth of his—rather, Soap's-bed. He almost smirks, gazing up his Captain's firm body, clothed only in boxers. But as his viciously handsome lover ensues pouring coffee, the normally masked man's gaze wavers to the window. With the light no longer quite so disagreeable, his baby blue eyes can scrutinize the life behind the glass. The priceless sky blazes a pearly Maya blue with barely a soft cloud is sight. The weather will flare hotly today, assuring of Toad to gather his bitching party to send Archer and himself nearly insane. Later that acknowledgement will irritate him, but now it only amuses him to imagine of Archer's exasperated face.
"Here." His gaze shifts back to Soap, meeting warm, shamrock green eyes. Simon accepts the coffee mug being offered. "Thanks," he mutters. Sitting up, he gingerly takes a sip of the steaming contents. At the moment it's too hot to be completely enjoyable, but the taste still sits nicely after he's swallowed. Only Soap, and as of recent Roach, know he likes his coffee sweet. Something about black coffee seems to state, 'I'm manly'. But Soap never teased and only seemed to take advantage of knowing how to make Ghost's coffee the way he likes it. The insanely delicious hints of hazelnut ever assures him of it.
He smirks seeing the smiley face sunshine mug Soap has given him. If anything, the tradition of using that mug has seemed to grow on him even if that smiley face expresses the complete opposite of his morning outlook.
He looks over at his Captain, words playing on his tongue, but the warmth in the man's eyes tell him he knows and no words are needed.
Author's Note: Just a really short drabble about Ghost/ Soap. :3 I almost thought about not posting it because it was so short. So I hope the lack of length wasn't too disappointed. Thanks for reading. :) And maybe review?