"Lieutenant? Lieutenant! Where 'r ye bloomin' at?" Soap's frutrated voice rang through Ghost's comms, no heed paid to it, as he held your waist in a vice grip and kissed the corners of your lips, balackava pulled halfway up, and in a second's hesitation, pulled off entirely, leaving his pretty eyes to glaze over your face as he made a mess out of your lips.

You both thought you'd lost each other, without saying goodbye, and ending on the sour note that was last night's argument. Each being so close to death, and so threatened by the close calls that framed this apologetic make out session, found each other and made sure to enjoy each other in case the day ever comes.

"Gods a-above.. 'm sorry, 'm so sorry.." he panted, tongue tracing yours, and holding you close. He reached for his blasting comms and turned them off, continuing.