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It was Christmas in Las Almas.
There were no Christmas lights hung around the trees or wreaths hanging on the doors, for the city was still plagued by war. On base, there were no carol singers or a steady snowfall covering the grounds and vehicles, nothing in their environment even pointed the day in the Christmas sentiment.
Johnny knew he wasn't the only one disheartened by the lack of spirit. A fog of gloom settled over the base’s tenants and all the soldiers were desperate for a moment of normalcy.
The only thing “Christmas spirited” they had on the base was a fake Christmas tree; with burnt-out grenades as ornaments, bullet casings on strings as “lights” and a wire hanger bent into the shape of the star to perch on top, at the center on the table of the debriefing room.
It was thanks to Johhny that the god-forsaken thing even resided in the space they were calling home for the past few months. After a few drinks, a cracked rib from sparring, and pure boredom, the makeshift tree was born. As the men added their own trinkets as ornaments throughout their time on base, the Christmas spirit inside their hearts sparked to life.
Task force 141, the new and improved ghost team, was cooked up in Alejandro’s base waiting for the go-ahead on a lead on Makarov. It was to their disappointment that the order took longer, Laswell still figuring out the logistics, but to Johhny’s enjoyment that they could spend Christmas cozy at the base, rather than in the rain-drenched streets covered in blood, at war.
It wasn’t Johny’s first Christmas deployed, away from his nieces, sisters, and extended family who drank too fast despite the day still young. But it was his first Christmas where the line between life and death was blurred, where a few months prior he was worried about never sending a letter accompanied by a sketch for the ones he loved the most to remember him by.
So may Jesus spite him, his enemies call him out on his weakness, and the team solemnly pat him on his shoulder for missing his real home.
(Even if he found a makeshift one in the aggressive Spanish speaking of Alejandro and the vaqueros, the quiet stillness of Ghost, the subtle guidance of Price, and the witty comebacks of Gaz).
Johnny didn't know why he was awake at the latest of nights, earliest of mornings, but his mind was buzzing, his heart thumping rapidly,, and his throat constricting thirsty for a liquid to soothe the scratch that was present within his walls.
Maybe that's why he made his way quietly throughout the base, nodding towards the guards on watch, Santa hat sitting proudly on his grown-out mohawk, whistling at the privates who were awake and fucking around, a bottle of scotch in his hand, making his way towards the kitchen of the mess hall where he knew Rodofolo’s godsent apple pie was sitting in the fridge.
Johnny had learned that Los Vaqueros could cook, Alejandro with food that is 2 notches too spicy, and Rodolfo with sweets soo good that it felt as if his grandmother back in Scotland made it. The fact was so domesticated that it seemed out of place for a group of hard-trained killers.
There were earbuds in his ears, playing classic Christmas songs as he matched his steps to the beat of the song, lips silently forming around the lyrics, as his eyes would close in bliss at the memories that surface with each passing word, both old and new.
While war was breathing down their necks, the team had managed to make memories of their time in Mexico, some stupid and some genuinely so heartwarming that it was now engraved on his heart.
When Gaz put mistletoe in every humvee he could get into, right between the seats, taunting the persons sitting beside each other and when he heard the others talking about it, he would snicker behind his hand.
Or when Rodolfo wore a “Santa's Elf” apron when cooking, flaunting it proudly as he moved around the kitchen in easy gracefulness. Johnny nudged Gaz, murmuring a low “Alejandro is Santa”, into his ear as the two burst into soft cackles, which soon turned into full hyena laughs as Ghost looked at them with a blank, yet confused stare.
Or all the times Alejandro blared Feliz Navidad every morning as he walked into breakfast, making sure at least one person from the crew sang the chorus with him. He got Soap the first day and thoroughly embarrassed him as Johhny sang in Scottish-accented Spanish,
When Price sewed reindeer antlers onto one of his fisherman hats and then fell asleep with his feet up, snoring so loud the ground shook. The picture that got taped to his office door after that was well worth it, even if the threat of an insubordination charge lingered over them.
Or most recently, when the team gifted a collar to Riley decorated in bulbs so the canine could flaunt around the base with more spirit than they were capable of. When Johhny caught Ghost staring warmly at him when he sat on the floor putting the collar on, making sure to scratch behind the dog’s ears. How Johhny sent him a secret smile after he got up, and all the other did was tilt his head and stare back, but Johhny could've sworn, behind the bask, the other was smiling.
And most importantly, when Ghost, the one who never showed any indifference to the actions, or the atmosphere, stared at the military-tainted Christmas tree at the center of the table for 3 beats too long. Or when he turned the volume louder to a Rockin around the Christmas tree as they shot in the range. Or when he accepted the candy cane that was passed out and twirled it around his finger for the entirety of the day, putting it away when both hands were needed but pulling it back out when one hand was free. It was the subtleties of Simon “Ghost” Riley that Johhny picked up one, the small changes that the rest of the team probably wouldn't notice.
Johnny, even taking it farther than should be acceptable, would like to think he’d gotten used to Ghost. The black stare, the throaty hums of agreement, the dry humor, and everything else Ghost gave away from his cold demeanor.
“Johnny.”
Soap lied, there was one thing he would never get used to, and it was the deathly silence of his steps despite his mountain of a frame.
“Jesus fuckin’ christ, Ghost! A warning next time, aye?”
Ghost falls in step beside him, the traditional skull mask replaced by his simple balaclava, his normal layers of clothing being substituted for black cargos and a black hoodie. Johhny would often joke that the black is to translate the color of his soul, but after multiple head turn and stares that said “shut the fuck up” without the voicing of words, Johhny knew when to let it go.
“We might need to put a bell on you, sir. Save me the heart attacks.”
“What am I, Sergeant? A fuckin house cat?
John snorts, “Personally, a collar would be fitting.” Eyes shining in mischief when he felt a hard glare focusing on him. “I think it would save more than myself from shitting themselves.”
Ghost didn’t respond to Johhny but he did send a side-eye as they walked beside each other, favoring to walk the rest of the way in silence.
Johnny didn’t need to ask why Ghost was up, he knew sleep didn't come easy for the other, preferring to take action then lets his body relax. After years of experience that Ghost had, Johnny didn’t blame the guy, All he wished was that somebody cared enough to be patient with the person behind the mask, maybe it would’ve saved Simon.
Johhny unplugged his earphones, letting the soft tune of Burl Ives fill the silence around them as the mess hall came closer into view.
“Midnight snack Johhny?”
Johnny scoffed lightheartedly, “Rodolfo’s pie is too good to pass up. If I could, it’d be an every-minute snack, L.T”
“That’s not good for your health Johhny.”
Soap looked over, flashing a grin at the side of an obscured face, “Nothing we do is good for our health Simon.”
They lapsed into silence again as they entered the kitchen, turning on one of the stove lights, making the room dim in lighting but not enough to be unfunctional. Johnny placed the bottle on the counter and he didn't miss Ghost’s eyes flick towards the bottle in questioning if not, a little in wonder.
It was Christmas day and Johnny deserved a drink, even if it was cheap scotch.
Ghost spoke from where he was half hidden in the shadows, arms leaning on the counter as he eyes Johhny situate himself in the kitchen, “I only drink bourbon.”
Those words sparked a memory in Johhny's mind. Navigating through the city on pure whim, getting dizzy from the exertion, as blood dripped down his arm. As the voice of the person before him guided him, easy banter flowed between the coms, as two targets were placed on their heads. The good ol’ times.
But Johhny had been prepared for this situation. Hoping that one day, his wishes would come true. And on the first hour of Christmas day, it became real. “I know, that’s why I got this.”
Johnny pulled out another bottle of liquor from one of the cabinets, a stash that only he knows about. Filled with liquor acquired over the few months, different brands of scotch, the occasional tequila, the few bottles of liquor used for mixed drinks, and one lonely bottle of bourbon, reserved for moments like these.
A few of the other bottles were missing liquid. A quarter missing from the tequila when he and Alejandro were taking shots before Johhny went to get his shoulder put back in place. Half of the bottle of Jägermeister gone from when he and Gaz got drunk off Jäger bombs and decided to have strengths tests after the mix of Monster energy and 35% of alcohol. Or even most of the bottle being gone from the scotch since Johhny indulges in drinking more than he should admit.
Johnny poured two glasses, one for scotch, one for bourbon, and he hands it off to his company.
He took a sip, welcoming the warm burn down his throat, and soothing the scratch that was there earlier. The warmth not only filled his stomach but also his heart
On his phone, Brenda Lee starts her chorus of Rockin' around the Christmas tree, In front of him, Simon pulled the balaclava up to his nose as he drank the dark liquid in his cup, humming in contentment when the taste hit his tongue.
Johnny had been so focused on the light stubble covering his chin, the pale skin shining like the moon in the dim room, that he didn’t notice the eyes staring back at him. Not until Simon cleared his throat and they made eye contact, warm blues meeting cold browns. While Johhny had already seen the other’s face more than once, every inch of exposed skin made him want to memorize it and never forget it.
Johnny raised his glass, just slightly and nodded at the man before him, "Lang may yer lum reek."
“English Mactavish.”
Johhny threw his head back and laughed. Heart warm at the memory of all the times the Brit said those exact words to him. Whether it be over comms during a mission, cursing a storm at the rough, but gentle treatment to a wound, or just a casual day where Johhny lets his native tongue slip, where he is comfortable enough to let the Scotts come out.
English wasn’t a common language around the base. With the months they've spent in Mexico, their Spanish has gotten better, enough to hold conversations with Alejandro and his crew. Spanish is the language that the base talked most in and Johhny never minded, actually preferring to know more than two languages. It even warmed his core when Rodolfo looked at soap proudly as he hits the pronunciation on the dot, knowing that he took the time to listen and adjust.
When Johhny wasn't chest-deep in intel and actually conversating with the team, the Scotts came out more, some getting used to it more than others. It was a sign of familiarity and sentimentality because the team became his family when in life he could trust them to have his back. But what shocked him is how well they got accustomed to his natural tongue, his accent growing even deeper with the constant use of the fixed language.
Price was really good at understanding him and it always concerned Johhny, how the British and yet most the Australian man, could understand Scotts as well as a native.
When he focused back on Simon, his lips were starting to tilt, the scar on his mouth adjusting to the new form as the dark color of his eyes burned Johhny’s skin.
“Merry Christmas Simon, may we live long and keep well.”