Chapter Text
Solitude is an addiction.
Ghost has been alone for most of his life. Price was the closest person he could count as a companion, but trust that he is not going to burrow in Price’s arms if he wants to cry.
But then again, it’s not like anyone wants to be attached to him.
He gets it. Some people think that having a killing machine as a significant other is pretty cool, but once they realise it can’t do anything other than ‘killing’, they throw the scrap in a corner. Leaving it to rust and decay.
Ghost is just glad he doesn’t have to go through it. Can’t be left behind if you were never picked.
And it’s fine. He has survived by himself for, like, what, 32 years? He doesn’t need an ‘other’ or the TV slop they called ‘romance’. He knows he’s capable at his job, so he certainly doesn’t need another person to be worshipful towards him, either.
Being with himself is nothing new nor difficult. He is perfectly comfortable with his lifestyle choices. No amount of glitter or roses is going to protect a soldier from death, so why bother chasing them?
At least, that’s what he thinks until he meets Johnny .
It wasn’t always rose-tinted glasses. When they first met, Ghost had thought he was annoying as hell. Always fucking chatting in his earpiece, crackling during briefings, boasting how he’s gonna fillet some targets. Arrogant bastard, he was, but he had a reason to be, though. Youngest recruit of the SAS, demolition expert, loyal to the bones and takes risks like no others.
He’s a damn good soldier, but an even better friend.
He memorises the milk-to-sugar ratio of Ghost’s tea, cheers on Gaz’s combat skills, and reminds Price of his medical check-ups for his joints. He is strict with the recruits but never fails to hype them up for the next day.
Ghost wonders how no one has tried to go after Soap. Sure, Soap stays on base during leaves, and he doesn’t wander outside the 141 circle, but surely someone has to have noticed how amazing he is, right?
Come to think of it, people probably do know how good Soap is. Not less than once had Ghost noticed some girls and guys eyeing Johnny. And during an undercover mission, some blonde bird tried to chat him up, completely oblivious to how the next building is being used as a torture chamber.
She did help make both of them less suspicious, though, so props to that. Ghost might have been more appreciative if she had stopped fucking rubbing her hand over Soap’s shoulder.
He’s not jealous; he just feels awful for Johnny, who has to suffer through unsolicited physical contact. Yep, that’s it. If Johnny liked it, he wouldn’t have pried her hand off while grimacing. And if Johnny pressed closer to Ghost after that, that’s just more proof that Johnny felt uncomfortable.
Also, no offence to the lady; she looks nice and probably wouldn’t have approached if she knew what was going on, but it’s obvious she’s not the right fit for Johnny. He has a dangerous job. He’ll need someone who’s can protect him when he’s resting, and someone who can understand what he goes through. Also, a military job is depressing as shit. Johnny deserves someone who can make him laugh, help him takes his mind off the gunpowder and blood.
Ghost had lifted the pint to his mouth, ‘Not up to your standards, Johnny?’
‘Not my type, sir’.
Huh.
‘Then what’s your type?’
Ghost watches Johnny’s throat bobbed. Then his eyes meet Ghost’s.
‘Competence. Really into the idea that I can count on them to watch my back’.
Ghost nodded and drained his cup.‘Not bad, Johnny. Hope you find that person.’
~
Tonight is a good night.
The 141 and Laswell were out at a pub, finally allowing themselves to indulge in better booze. The chill outside is relentless, making the stuffiness of the pubs feel like a warm embrace. Not to mention that Soap easily got cold hands, so he had scooted even closer to Ghost. Rarely does he give credit to the cold, but this is nice, really nice.
Laswell puts her glass on the table, The thick glass bottom making a loud ‘thud’ as it meets the table with more force than necessary.
Price glances at her, ‘You broken, Kate?’
Laswell digs her palm into her temple. ‘I’ve got a severe case on my hands, boys, and it may just cost my life.’
The entire table tenses. They agreed not to bring up international terrorism at the table, but maybe Laswell has hidden this for a long while.
‘Who’s the target?’ Gaz readied himself to take out the unknown targets.
Laswell took out her phone, and thefour men leaned forward, preparing themselves to read the most lethal file.
She then turned her phone, showcasing a necklace. Diamonds encrusted in a thin laurel circlet, and right in the middle was a 2-carat diamond pendant shaped into a droplet.
The boys frowned. Maybe this was a trade that funds a terrorist organisation, or maybe it’s a piece of evidence?
Laswell swiped right, a photo of an ivory-coloured harp, no less majestic than the previous photo.
These terrorists really like their luxuries, huh?
Price grabs the phone to zoom in on them, ‘Laswell, what is this?’
‘Well, Valentine’s Day is coming up, and I still haven’t decided which one to buy for my wife.’
Ghost stared at her, not believing his ears, ‘You’re taking the piss.’
Laswell leaned back, her hand resting palms up in defeat, ‘This is no joking matter, gentlemen. I have been having a headache over this for weeks.’
Price takes another sip, ‘I’m sure either of them would do the job.’ ‘That’s not how it works, John. I want it to hit her hard, make her think that she’s so important that I can’t live without her.’
‘Uh oh, mum’s getting soft.’ Gaz snickered, receiving an exasperated look from Laswell. ‘At least I know how to keep it fresh. You boys have no idea how to keep a partner.’
‘That is a faulty field observation! You have no idea how good I am.’
Laswell glanced at Price and shifted her eyes back to Gaz before he caught her. ‘Oh, do tell, sergeant.’
‘Well, Priiiii- um,’ He clears his throat, ‘ Prior partners have told me that I’m charming. I satisfy them so much that they’re irresistible to anything I ask for.’
Soap coughs into his fist, and the corners of his mouth twitch uncontrollably as he lifts his glass. It’s honestly a miracle how he’s managed to not choke on his scotch.
Gaz continued digging his grave, ‘You wouldn’t believe how easy it is for me to get one of them on top of - I mean under me.’ He rambles on, only stopping when Price pats him on his thigh, fingers curling into the flesh, ‘That’s enough, Garrick.’
Johnny let go, laughter getting even louder as Gaz’s face reddened, ‘Oh ye a reallll charmer, Gaz. I’ll be sure to -hic- ask ye for tips.’
Gaz squints at him, ‘Oh please do, it’s obvious that you fucking need some.’ He takes another sip, ‘Your so-called ‘efforts’ have gone no fucking where and I’m tired.’ ‘Ye dick head-’
‘What “efforts”, Johnny?’
Johnny’s head swivelled to him. His face flushes under the influence.
‘They’re nothing. Just, uh, dumb stories from secondary school.’
Gaz furrows his brow and shakes his head, ‘Tav, what the fuck are you on about?’
Johnny glares at him, ‘Ye know, the old stories I told ye? The stories from a looooong time ago ?’
Gaz stares into the far wall of the pub as if the peeling brown paint would give him the answers. ‘I’m lost.’
‘Yer drunk. That’s what ye are.’
‘I’m not-’
The more these two argue, the less chance Ghost’s gonna get to hear about this. ‘Kyle, just shut up.’ He nudges Johnny’s shoulder. ‘Go on, what stories?’
Johnny rubs his hand on the back of his neck. ‘Agh.. they’re nothing. Had a couple of girlfriends and boyfriends back then. I don’t even remember their names now. I’m sure they forgot about me too. It’s been a long time, after all.’
Nonsense.
‘Johnny,’ Ghost’s voice came out unexpectedly soft. Oh well, he could always blame it on the alcohol. ‘I don’t think anyone could forget about you.’
He watches as Johnny’s lips part, eyes glazing over, it feels like the world is only reduced down to John ‘Soap’ Mactavish.
Laswell clears her throat.
Oh, right, there’s people around them.
Ghost brings his glass up. He feels like his blood is boiling under his skin, and everybody can see it. He catches the ice with his teeth and swirls it around with his tongue. Hopefully, this will cool him down and, most importantly, shut him up.
He doesn’t look up until Laswell calls him again.
‘So, Ghost, any stories about your... boos ?’
Laswell has never heard a table of men groan any louder.
Price sighs disappointedly, ‘I regret working with you.’
‘Mum, did you forget to take your meds today?’ ‘Gaz!’
Ghost chuffs, ‘Laswell, that was terrible. And that’s coming from me.’
‘Oh, whatever, Ghost. Don’t change the subject.’
Ghost reaches for the plate of chips, only to have it taken away by Gaz. ‘Uh uh sir, no treats til you spill.’ ‘I’m going to kill you, Kyle.’
Price chuckles, picking one of the treats and dramatically chewing on them.
Ghost glares at him. ‘You too? What are you, five?’
This old, senile fucking man just grins, with a tilt of his head, ‘I’m always up for info about my men.’
Fuck it, how bad could it be.
‘I’ve never had any relationships. Nor have I been pursued.’ He confessed. It’s not that bad, plenty of people don’t have a partner.
‘That’s not true.’ Soap counters, ‘The last time we went for a drink, this brown-haired kid came up and kept fucking batting his eyelashes at ye.’
Ghost has no idea if this even happened, all he remembered was that Soap spilt water on his shirt and Ghost had to fight himself from ogling Johnny’s tits. But Johnny never lies, especially not to him, so that must’ve been true.
He shrugged, ‘So?’
‘So? So??? All night he was going,’ Soap clasps his hand together and shifts into a high-pitched voice, “ Oooh, you’re sooooo strong, so tall, so coolllll, take me to bed good sirrrrrr. Annoying fuckin’ cunt.’
‘Language, Soap!’ Laswell scolds, which grates him even more. He throws his palms up like he has been accused of a heinous crime. ‘What? He was! He wouldnae fuckin’ piss off, fuckin’ clinging te Simon like he was some fuckin’... fuck, what’s the animal that hugs the tree all’da time? Fuck it, he was that! Thank Christ that Simon told him te fuck right off, I swear to God, I woulda fuckin’ batter him!’
Ghost smiles, ‘I don’t even remember talking to that guy.’
‘Fuck off, Simon, ye damned growled at ‘im.’
‘Guess he really was annoying then. To be fair, I don’t even know what the whole ‘wooing’ thing looks like. I just didn’t like strangers pretending to be close to me.’
Soap huffs, swirling the ice in his glass, ‘Get used te it. You’re too fuckin’ pretty te not have weird twats drooling at ye.’
Ghost thinks of the shiny sports cars, how they’re advertised to go to 80 km/hr in 8 seconds, something his heartbeat is uncomfortably similar to.
‘Pretty? Me?’
‘Aye, Si. Yer a real fuckin’ sight.’ Soap pins his eyes on Ghost’s. Modesty has seemed to leave after he ranted about the unimportant man. ‘There’s no way ye don’t know that.’
Ghost craves another ice cube in his mouth.
He picks up a chip, ‘Not really. Isn’t that a word for models or something?’
Johnny reaches over, stealing the cold chips from his fingers, and pops it into his mouth. ‘Nae. Ye know yer pretty when you had people chasing after ye like a dog.’
‘Oh yeah, I’m sure that one annoying guy is good evidence.’
‘Stop hogging the chips,’ Gaz complains, pulling the plates to himself again, ‘Also, no offence, Lieut, but you’re dense as bricks. You’re ripped as hell, tall, and the whole mystique really sells it.’ He grabbed another chip, but lost his grip when he was moved horizontally, pressed right up to Price.
The captain grumbles, ‘Should I be concerned about your compromise to other beneficiaries, soldier?’
Maybe Price did have a little too much to drink tonight, Ghost mused.
‘Nah, Cap, you know I always like you best.’ Gaz grinned before turning his attention to Ghost again, ‘Annnnyways, as I was saying, there’s plenty of people that would want you on top of them.’
‘Oh yeah, name one, sergeant.’
Gaz opened his mouth, caught something out of the corner of his eyes, and closed his mouth again, ‘I ain’t a fuckin’ snitch.’ and then giggled .
Ghost brings the glass to his mouth, treasuring the last sip of the sweet bourbon.
‘Fucks’ sake, let’s get out of here. Kyle is out of control.’
Laswell exhaled, ‘Thank God, I can’t do this anymore.’
~
Ghost woke up the next morning feeling a slight headache pulsing at the back of his head. Really shouldn’t have drunk that much last night.
The memories come rushing back. Last night felt like a hazy dream of dim lights, cold chips, and Johnny. The things he had told him… fucking hell, Ghost might as well have been confessing his love.
He needs to keep himself in check next time. Also, he should probably punch Kyle for probing so much, none of the lovey-dovey gooey shite would’ve come out if he had just stayed quiet on Price’s lap. Well, it’s Ghost’s turn to train with the sergeant today, so maybe he’ll just push him a bit further. It’s always good for a soldier to push beyond his limits.
But… Kyle also pushed Soap into revealing more about his romantic past. Thinking about it causes an uneasy feeling in Ghost’s stomach. Johnny mentioned partners with an ‘s’. So many people had loved his Johnny and had probably ‘woo’ed him too.
Yet here is Ghost, having absolutely no clue on what to do.
What did the guy do that made Johnny hate him so much again? Oh yeah, he was ‘batting his eyelashes’. Is that something that Johnny would like?
Stepping into his tiny ensuite bathroom, Ghost looks at the cracked mirror above his sink and tries to replicate the action.
Blink blink blink blink.
He frowned, this doesn’t look good at all. And maybe it’s some problems with his eyelashes? They’re a bit lighter than his hair, so it doesn’t even look like he has any. He tries again.
Blink, blink, blink.
What is he doing? This is stupid. He looks stupid. Even if he knows how to do this type of stuff, why would Johnny even like him for it? This is useless.
The faucet turns on with a squeak, and Ghost splashes his face with cold water.
He really should just stick to his day job.
~
‘Jesus, Ghost, I never want to train with you, ever again!’
Gaz plops down onto the sparse grass. Small rocks dug into his skin, and dirt clinging to his hair. He’s sprawled out, gasping and panting through it all.
‘It wasn’t that bad, Kyle.’
‘Wasn’t that bad? Ghost, I’ve fallen out of a heli before, and it hurts less than this! I can’t feel my limbs, but I can also feel pain everywhere .’
Ghost snickers, ‘Good.’
Kyle lifts his head to glare at him, but the intimidating tactics don’t work when you look like a melting starfish.
‘Enough rest, sergeant. On your feet.’
‘Ugnnnnnh, ’ Gaz groaned, using the little energy left to push himself on his hands and knees. ‘Help me, sir.’
‘No.’
‘I hate you.’
With an even longer whine, Kyle pulls himself up. Ghost guides him back to the locker rooms. As Kyle started to catch his breath, Ghost leaned in and whispered, ‘I told you I was going to kill you.’
‘Oh, you fuckin’ dick-’
Ghost raises an eyebrow, ‘Oh, so you still have the energy to cuss me out. Drop and give me 30 pushups.’
He barely conceals his grin as Kyle cries out but begrudgingly gets on the ground.
Maybe another night of getting drunk and probed by Kyle won’t be so bad.
After Gaz is finally done, they walk back to their rooms. Well, Ghost was walking, the most accurate word for Gaz was crawling.
They quickly took a shower and collected their stuff. When Ghost clears out his locker, though, an envelope flies out.
Who the fuck is shoving an anonymous envelope into a military officer’s locker? Most importantly, why do they know what time Ghost would be unavailable?
Glancing at Gaz, he knew the sergeant was sharing his thoughts.
Using his dirty shirt as a makeshift glove, he covers his mouth and nose with another hand and picks up the envelope. He turned it under the light to see if there was any powder on it.
Nothing. Nothing but a line of typed words: ‘ To Ghost ’
He frowns even harder. Whoever made this has access to the bases’ computers and printers, which are only in the superior’s offices, such as his and Price’s. Must be familiar with the base and specialises in stealth. He turns the training program list in his head, who would be good at this? Private Ruth? He’s fast but noisy when clearing targets. Sergeant James, maybe? He’s been here for years, and he did talk back to Ghost last week on a mission.
Gaz takes a step closer, ‘Well, sir, are you going to open it?’
Ghost figures he’ll only get more information once he opens it. He tentatively rips along the seal flaps, only finding a folded paper. He braces himself for a death threat or something that would compromise the base.
Reading the words, Ghost’s eyes bugged.
‘Oh my days,’ Gaz’s grins become wider and wider.
‘Roses are red,
Skulls are white,
I am no damsel,
but you could be my knight.
Not good at writing poems,
more interested in gunfights
And if you let me,
I would treat you right.
Love,
Your secret admirer’
What. What the fuck is this. What does Ghost do with this?
‘OH, congrats, sir!’ Gaz laughs, wiping a tear from his eye. ‘Oh - ha- this is too good, I can’t stop!’ He sits on the floor, covering his eyes, his shoulder bouncing with his giggles.
Ghost stares blankly at the paper. He thought this only happens in movies, but… this is real. He got one.
‘Oh, I’m dying,’ Gaz exhales, his voice unsteady, he looks up at Ghost, unaware of Ghost’s crisis. ‘So, sir, how are you?’
‘I… I don’t know what to do with this.’
‘Oh come on - ow,’ Gaz stands up, his muscles reminding him of the gruelling training. ‘Obviously, you go and find out who this guy is and kiss him, or something.’
Ghost turns to him, ‘How’d you know it was a guy?’
‘I - uhh, just a hunch?’
So much for ‘admirer’. The idiot was brave enough to write him a corny love letter but can’t show who he is. How the fuck does he expect Ghost to like him back? And, even if Ghost does know who he is, they can’t just expect Ghost to return his feelings.
If the guy was Johnny, though… then that’s different. But it can’t be.
Johnny is bright, honest, and loud. If he liked Ghost, he would just tell Ghost, right? He would give some really clear indicators, right?
So, this can’t be Johnny.
He moves towards the bin in the corner.
‘Wait, Ghost, what the fuck?’ Gaz exclaimed, shooting a hand out and took the letter away.
‘The guy couldn’t even tell me who he was. I’m not going to like someone who can’t even tell me directly.’
Gaz looks like he is one step from committing insubordination and assault. ‘Okay, but hypothetically, what if it was from someone you also like?’
Ghost shakes his head, ‘That’s not going to be the case, sergeant.’
‘Okay, fuck, fine,’ Gaz ran a hand through his hair, ‘I can’t tell you for sure if that’s true. But just… at least keep the paper? For memory’s sake.’
Many soldier has a problem of being stubborn. They want to be a hero and show off chest candies to strangers in bars, so they’ll think their way is going to be the best one. And in most cases than not, it gets them killed. And Kyle is a model example, except he gets off unharmed every time. Sometimes, Ghost doesn’t understand it, but he trusts Kyle.
‘Fine.’
~
Johnny’s jittery.
He doesn’t shake or bounce his legs like some of the recruits who just finished their first kill. Instead, he has these small twitches on his face. Eyebrows would furrow and relax, and he’d bite his lip but quickly release it. But the telltale sign was how much water he was drinking. For the record, hydrating is fine and all, but the occurrence of Johnny sipping water is getting ridiculous.
‘Soap, you wouldn’t believe what just happened!’
There goes the thought of keeping this a secret.
‘Yeah?’
‘Ghost got a love letter from a quote-unquote “Secret Admirer”!’
‘Oh? Oh!’ Soap smiles and widens his eyes, ‘That’s, ah, great LT! What’d ye think about it?’
Ghost shrugs.
‘What- that’s it? Ye don’t feel anything about it?’
‘It’s nothing important, Johnny. I don’t see why you and Kyle are so hung up on it.’
‘Nothing important???’ Johnny screeches, drawing attention from a couple of guys nearby.
For fuck’s sake, why is he caring about this so much? It’s not like he wrote the letter.
‘I didn’t even know who wrote it, Johnny. They should be glad Kyle stopped me from putting’ it in the bin.’ Johnny opened and closed his mouth, looking like a fish out of water. Whatever he was going to say, he decided to wash it down with dry rice.
Oh, so Johnny finally learned to think before he spoke, how cute.
Too bad Ghost wanted to hear his voice. Makes the letter easier to read when it sounds like someone he wants.