Look, stop me if you've heard this one before butâ
Silly little sergeant has been eyeing up the big, bad Lieutenant for months now. Eyes locked whenever they are in the same vicinity. Drool down the chin when they watch LT outsmart and out beat the competition during trainings. Eyebrows raised whenever they get a quick glimpse of the man in a skull mask when weightlifting. The guys surrounding Ghost think it's adorable. LT's little shadow.
Ghost thinks you're ballsy and shy, but cute. Little puppy who thinks they can handle the relentless wolf.
And, after making yourself sick about it, you've made your way over to him during mealtime with a half-cocked smile and skin warm from the implication of what you'll finally ask him.
Ignore how you've built up the courage over a few months or so! Don't even think about how your wants have totally become known to anyone with eyes and ears! Stop remembering everyone's snickers and the jolly jabs your fellow soldiers give you when they catch you creeping around.
It's all for now.
"You a big eater, Lieutenant?"
Johnny chokes.
Kyle laughs.
Price holds his head in his hands, headache forming from the paperwork he knows he'll need to file for this insubordination.
Ghost doesn't entertain your question with an answer.
Did you really just ask him that...?
He doesn't stop chewing the slop that's in front of him. He keeps his eyes steadily on you, watching your face contort in confusion and a bit of shame as the realization of your words and his team's reactions slowly fill you with horror.
Slowly fill him with joy.
"Wot was that, sergeant?" Ghost grunts out after a moment. The entire mess hall is quiet, everyone eagerly waiting for the fallout of your stupidity, of your naivety. They can't wait for him to run you into the ground. Remind you of your place. Who do you think you are? Why would you proposition the Lieutenant of the 141 in front of everyone? His taskforce? The entire base?
Of course he's been asked, and he's happily shown others his appetite, but it was a one and done deal. Something to occupy his time in the dark. Something to keep his hands busy and his mind from wandering too far out to the void.
But nobody has asked him so boldly, certainly not in front of everyoneâ
"Um, there's this, uh, place by the waterfront. It's called 'Pirates on the Bay', and they have this challenge platter. If you eat it all in an hour, you get it for free, a t-shirt, and 48 raw oysters comped."
Price is the first to break the pulsing silence, laughing out loud before leaving, shaking his head, and wishing his base would stop giving him grey hair already.
Kyle huffs, grabbing a few notes from his pocket and sliding them over to Johnny with a glare. He gives you a quick "Good luck", and follows Price out.
Johnny is smitten, counting his money like hes won the lottery. You're a bit confused, knowing that this was another joke that you aren't a part of, but you don't say anything. You feel the bubble behind you pop, and everyone's whispers overtake the hall. Some are laughing. Others are planning your funeral. A few can't believe you've asked the Lieutenant out on a date, while a particularly loud voice is adamant that you might belong with the US marines and their crayon-eating ways.
That gets Ghost to snap out of his silent contemplation.
"Adams, with MacTavish." He's quick. Sturdy. Voice overtakes everyone's, and it's back to silence for those who have chosen to stay. Johnny is grinning ear to ear, a quick promise to put Adams in his place for 'im and they're gone too.
It remains quiet between you two. Enough where you thought if you apologized and swore to never look at LT again, he might spare you a heinous punishment.
But insteadâ
"Free meal, huh?"
â
He asks for you to call him Simon when you two go out. He insists on picking you up on base, with flowers (crimson stargazer lilies around pale lilacs) and he's forgone his mask.
If you were normal, you might have backed out. Let him know that it was too much, you didn't think it through and to not have any hard feelings about it all. Something Ghost was expecting, so he didn't even wear his nicest shirt.
But you didn't. You smiled. Thanked him kindly for the flowers and hopped in the vehicle after pressing a quick peck to his knitted cheek.
Ignore how warm it makes Ghost. How soft and gooey.
The drive takes an hour, but it's filled with a soft radio and you two chatting about the meal.
It's four full lobsters, with two king crabs and four lemon garlic butter cups. Two big, twice baked potatoes. Dirty fries. Six hot wings and four garlic wings. Two ranches. Two mini cheeseburgers. Two dozen onion rings and a piece of chocolate.
"No one has done it before, or so they say. I've tried and I've gotten to the chocolate and time ran out. I really, really want the shirt and oysters."
Lookâ
Its a lot of food, okay? Almost too much for most people, which makes sense on why no one has beaten it, but for Ghost?
Simon?
Skinny boy with a huge appetite who used to drink water to fill up?
This is a dream come true.
Take away that he has a pretty thing on his arm who is vibrating right next to him, excitedly talking about the oysters and desserts and fun they'll have together.
Simon is quiet, but he couldn't be happier.
It's a nice place. Directly on the water, overlooking the bay, surrounded by parked boats and dingys. Warm lights filling the entrance and spilling out to the dinning area and you smile at the waiter as your water glasses are filled.
Rules are simple:
One hour to eat, no walking away from the table, no sharing, shells and bones can be the only thing left on the plate and oysters need to be eaten as well.
He glances over you, but you're busy wrapping a nakin around your neck and wiping drool off your chin.
Is it possible to fall in love this quick?
He sends Price a text with that question as the food is getting prepared and only gets a thumbs up in response.
He'll catch him later.
"You nervous, Simon?" You ask, taking a small sip of water as the timer is placed by you both and the smell of the kitchen is wafting over and consuming everyone in its path. Simon gives a half smile and shrugs his shoulders.
"Not nervous. Hungry." There's a look in his eye, something hidden by reaching out. You can't help but feel overheated in the moment, a giggle escaping you before you could get a grip on it. You nod, watching the food be plated and condiments poured. Oysters cracked and settled in the ice.
"Teamwork. Right, Simon?" He gives you a wink, and your table becomes overwhelmed with your challenge.
â
Price gets a few pictures that night. Pictures that have him smiling and barking out in laughter.
Pictures of the food before it was devoured. Heaping piles of wonderful goodness, steam curling in the air and the timer set in the background.
One where nothing is left but bones, shells and ceramic.
A picture of a picture that hangs up on their celebratory wall. It's of Simon and you. You're wearing a too-big t-shirt that has a skull with a bandana and a eyepatch, words "I walked the planked and lived!" On the front. You're smiling big, biggest anyone has ever seen. Simon is behind you, face hidden between your shoulder blades but his arms are out and flexing by your head.
It's a great photo of you two.
And don't worry. You don't need to know that Price has the evidence of how the night ended, the way you and Simon burnt off those calories. You don't need to know how sweet Price and Kyle thought you looked, wrapped around their Lieutenant, pulsing around his length, and finally passed out in his arms, suction to him like an octopus.
The next morning, between training and preparing for the next OP, you find your next challenge.
Steakhouse in London. Winner gets a t-shirt, free meal and their name on the board. 45 minutes. Nobody has ever won before.
You text him the details, and less than a minute later get a text back. It's a picture of your celebration.
"Game on."
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