WHOOOO-BOOM!

Soap shielded his eyes against the flash from the gunfire falling from the AC-130. Night practically turned to day in a matter of seconds and he could clearly make out the faces of his teammates. Their clothes rippled in the aftershock, nearly toppling the Sergeant and a handful of others over.

Ghost nodded stiffly and slowly turned away. "Good riddance."

"What do we do now, sir?"

"Wait for evac and head home."

Novaleen pinched her brows together. "That's it?"

"There's nothing else we can do, NAG," he said over his shoulder. "We're going home, we'll wait until Laswell has intel on this. Right now, we've got nothing to work with."

Soap shrugged. "He has a point, mate. That missile is gone, and we don't know if or where Hassan has any more."

She nodded solemnly and followed after them, listening to the troubled murmurs of the men behind her. The air felt thick with dismay, and it tangled around their legs as they trudged through it like mud, step after heavy step.

When she looked up, she realized she was walking beside Ghost, whose intense, dark eyes were unmoving as he stared at the landing zone. "You good, Lieutenant?"

"Dandy."

"You looked pretty distraught back there."

He stepped ahead of her and turned around to face her. "What's it to you, NAG?"

"I'm just checking on you, sir, I'm not trying to be an antagonist."

"Mind yourself. I can manage on my own, Corporal."

She hung back, falling behind Soap, and shook her head to herself. Ghost was definitely nothing like her Shadows. He was so closed off, he wasn't even friendly to his own. Then again, she wasn't sure what she had expected from a man who had his entire identity in the dark, protected by a skull mask.

Soap nudged her with a sympathetic grin. "Don't worry about him, NAG. I don't think it's personal; he's just not a people person, y'know?"

Novaleen sighed and forced a grin. "You're probably right. Thanks, Sergeant."

Soap's pencil scratched across the soft paper in his journal. His blue eyes flicked up from the page to the window in front of him. Scratch, scratch, scratch... No. He erased the line he had made and swept away the rubber shavings.

"Are you drawing?"

He smiled up at Novaleen who was leaning quaintly over his shoulder. "Yeah! It helps me unwind."

On the page, he had sketched the cars illuminated by the sunrise outside the barracks in near-perfect detail. "Your shading looks incredible."

"You think so?" he asked brightly. "I've been trying a new technique to make them look more solid."

"Yeah, it's really nice. Where did you learn?"

"I'm self-taught."

She raised her brows, her mouth falling agape. "Shut up."

"I'm serious! Started drawin' in grade school, never put my pencil down since."

"Teach me!"

He closed his book and laughed. "Get some paper and a pencil, I'll show ye."

Their jovial conversation faded into ominous silence when Ghost's presence crept into the room. His eyes slid from Novaleen to Soap with little interest. "NAG, you got a place to sleep?"

"I'm sure I can find one, sir."

"Good. Both of you, rest up. We're waiting on Shepherd to get back to us, could be any time in the next 24 hours, so get some shut-eye while you can."

Soap stood up, slapping both of his knees as he went. "No need to tell me twice." He waved politely at Novaleen. "See ye, NAG. You headin' home after this?"

"No telling. Still waiting on word from command, but if so, I promise I'll be seeing you again."

As Soap walked away, she felt a streak of nervousness weave through her, realizing she was alone with Ghost. It felt like he was looking straight through her and though he remained standing still, she could see his jaw working under his mask like he was grinding his teeth. Despite her trepidation, she was concerned for him, and with a hard swallow, she opened her mouth. "I know you said not to worry about you, Ghost, but you seem..."

"Agitated?" he growled.

The words stuck in her throat and her nerves frayed like a mashed paintbrush. "I just want to make sure you have nothing to get off your chest."

His head moved in what she assumed must have been a scoff, but he was silent as the grave. "Appreciate the concern, but I'm fine."

"Well, maybe, if you let off a little steam you might not feel so 'agitated'."

His brown eyes flashed dangerously and she flinched. "You know people who fuck around tend to find out, and you're fucking around a lot, NAG."

"How so?" she sneered.

He had no reply, but his eyes darted back and forth between hers, the momentary ire softening, then burning away to indifference once more. The silence between them felt heavy, even awkward, and he turned away, walking silently down the corridor toward the back exit of the building.

She sighed, folding her arms around herself and turning her back on him. "I only want to help you, Lieutenant. After all, you saved my life, and if there's anything I can do to replay you, I still owe you one."

Abruptly, she was spun 180 degrees to face him again. He pressed her against the wall and she gasped, alarmed to see his face mere inches from hers. "You're damn right, you do." His hand landed on her throat and at first, she was afraid he was going to squeeze. But when his mouth closed in on hers, she felt a rush of blood in her face. But then he hesitated. The mask...

She reached out to slide it off, but he clasped her hand in his, keeping his gaze low. "Not here..."

"Then where?"

Ghost escorted her to the front door, facing the street as if to make sure no one was following and turned the lock to let her in. His house was a modest one: a single-story with minimal furniture and even fewer decorations. 

"Quaint."

"Glad you think so," he said quietly as he stepped in behind her. Once the door shut, he locked it again and pulled her to him by her slender waist. 

Her hands fanned out on his chest and she hesitated. "Wait, Ghost, wait..." He stiffened, eyes rounding ever so slightly as his hands loosened. "Are you... Sure about this?"

"Are you?" he asked tentatively. 

She would have been lying if she said she was 100% positive, but she'd have also been lying if she didn't want to cover him in kisses and feel his hands on her. Her mouth hung open silently, but no matter how she contemplated and resisted, she couldn't stop the word from falling from her lips. "... Yes." 

He pulled up the balaclava around his face, revealing a strong, sculpted jaw with about two days' growth of stubble. His lips locked with hers and his hands clenched tighter around her as if he were a tiger intent on devouring her.

She slid her hands to his neck, holding his face close, and kissed along his jaw, trailing them down his neck. He urged her backward to a room at the back of the house, pulling off her garments as they went. First her shirt, then her bra, her belt, and finally, inside the bedroom, he began to tug down her pants. Novaleen was panting, yanking at his shirt to pull it over his head, but somehow Ghost hardly seemed phased, completely calm and composed aside from the occasional ragged breath that feathered against her ear. She softly pressed her lips to his muscular chest, moving down further and further until she was kneeling in front of him.

Ghost tilted his head back and closed his eyes, feeling her work off his belt and unzip his trousers. His mouth slowly fell open and his fingers hooked into her shoulders and her thick, red-blonde braid. Her mouth was so soft. He didn't dare look down at her in case she would be looking back at him with those enchanting green eyes. He wouldn't be able to last.

His hips flexed against her face and she held him against the wall, increasing her pace. He was quiet and she wondered if she wasn't doing enough. Novaleen flicked her tongue around him as she stroked, humming occasionally with contentment.

He groaned softly.

And it drove her wild.

She released him and kissed back up his body and came back to his face. Gingerly, she reached up for his mask so she could reveal more of his face. She wanted to kiss him- his lips, his cheeks, the furrows in his brows- and watch his stress melt away.

He threw her backward onto the bed and before she could prop herself back up, he slid her panties off, hooking them on one finger as he dangled them teasingly in front of her. "Of course they would be pink with love hearts..."

Suddenly, she felt shy and tore her eyes off him. "Most people don't get to see them; it's a good excuse to wear something cute..."

The edge of his mouth threatened to turn up in a grin before he doubled over her, kissing down her chest, her belly, her thighs, and finally-

Novalleen gasped, her body turning rigid with delight and she reached for him. She was barely able to touch the top of his head, and she knotted her fingers in the smooth fabric. He was good, and she showed her appreciation by arching her back, forcing her hips up to his face.

He stopped abruptly and held her down by her wrists. She was panting, eyes wide and he glared down at her through the dark orbits of the skull. "This stays on," he said, pulling the balaclava back down over his mouth. She was disappointed at first but was soon distracted when one of his hands drifted down her body.

It was intense. His movements seemed effortless, but she quickly turned to a trembling, whimpering mess, unable to fight against his grasp. He slowed down and she propped herself up to watch him let his trousers to the floor. She was eager, reaching out to touch him, but he once more forced her onto her back.

His eyes rolled as his composure slipped briefly, sinking into her depths. His head felt like it was swimming, his lungs aching for air despite every breath he took. As she clutched his arms, nails biting into his skin, he felt the swell of a current inside of him, building into a massive tide that rolled and tossed him dangerously close to a riptide of release. Eyes closed, he pressed deeper into her waters, he gasped for oxygen, gulping it in as if he were drowning, and finally, the swell crested into a wave that crashed over both of them.

Novaleen was sitting nearly upright as she clung to him, bleating her pleasure into his neck. He had withdrawn, but his face was still pressed into her shoulder. Their desperate panting and moaning slowly faded into soft, relaxed breaths, and Ghost crawled up into the bed beside her.

She lay sprawled out, gazing deliriously at the ceiling. Her mind felt like a blissful, savory fog. She looked over at him, and to her surprise, his eyes were closed, and his breathing had deepened. "You dosing off?" she purred.

"I might be. You probably should too," he groaned sleepily. "Who knows when we'll get to sleep in proper beds again..."

Novaleen giggled and nestled in, adjusting her pillow under her head. As the fog rolled in thicker and bathed her in tranquility, she noticed that Ghost's arm was still draped across her torso, fingers curled ever so slightly into her side. She savored the warmth he radiated into her skin, and slowly...

Slowly...

She drifted off.