#cod one shot

Price gave a little nod, exhaling the smoke from his cigar. "I could use a drink."

"What about you, L.T? Y/N? Fancy a drink?" Soap asked the pair, who sat next to each other. 

The big, burly Brit gave a low hum which to anyone who didn't know him would've thought that was a clear no, but Soap laughed and Y/N smiled. "I say that's a yes."

He looked to Y/N, "That only leaves you, lass."

Y/N shook her head, waving a hand to brush off his proposal. "I think I'll pass." Ghost turned his head to look down at her.

"Oh come on." Gaz complained in the back while Soap crossed his arms. 

"What do ya got to get back at base to that's so important that ya wouldn't want to go with us?" Soap argued, his voice laced with playful intent. 

She snickered. "Take a shower for one."

"Are ya serious?" Soap huffed. 

"Look, I know you might like walking around like a human dust cloud but I can feel the dirt in places I'd rather not mention."  Y/N teased, and smirked his way.

She glanced over to Gaz who had let out a small laugh, which made her laugh quietly to herself. 

Soap leaned forward, "Come on, we don't need another ghost disappearin on us."

Y/N shook her head, "I'm not disappearing on anybody."

"Then come with us." Soap continued to prod.

The two stared at each other for a long moment before Y/N sighed and threw her arms in the air in mock annoyance. "Fine, I guess I'll come but only if I can change first." 

"Deal." Soap grinned as he held out a fist toward Y/N. She lifted a fist of her own, and bumped it against Soap's then leaned back in her spot in the plane.

Soon, the team made it back to base, filtering off the carrier plane one by one, and chatting amongst themselves. Price came off the plane first, followed shortly by Soap and Gaz then Ghost and Y/N. It was already dark out, the fluorescent lights from inside the base beaming out and onto the concrete floor that made up the helipad. 

Once stepping inside, Y/N departed from the men, reassuring Soap that she would meet them in the parking lot once she changed out of her uniform. She b-lined for her room, locking the door behind her and heaving a sigh, letting her shoulders relax and allowing herself a moment to herself. Even though she agreed to go out with the guys, Y/N was utterly exhausted; it seemed to take great effort just to breathe. It was as if her lungs were beyond their limit and wanted to rest. 

But Simon was going out too, while not rare, he never went out consistently. More often than not, he opted to stay behind and get some sleep. There were also occasions when he and Y/N would make tea in the break room and talk about everything and nothing in the lulling moments when the base was quiet. 

She loved those moments, appreciating the fact that on their off time, Simon liked to share his time with her. As much as she loved the guys, Simon provided an unknown incentive to go to the bar.

Y/N sighed, trudging over to her cot to undress. She traded her grimy uniform for a pair of clean jeans, a white tank top, and her typical combat boots. However, it was a bit cold outside so she decided to grab a hoodie. Her eyes immediately found the one that she kept folded at the end of her bed. 

It was a standard black hoodie, no flashy design or words, a simple color with nothing else. This hoodie was special though as it belonged to a certain 6'2" Lieutenant.

Y/N smiled to herself as she grabbed it and pulled it over her head. It hung loose on her body, the hem of it touching her mid thigh and the sleeves engulfed her arms but she felt safe in it., protected. She couldn't help to thumb at the fabric of the collar, thinking for a second before she dipped her nose down to breathe in the smell of it. 

Despite having worn the hoodie multiple times (mostly when she slept), the musky scent of Simon lingered there. It smelled of an earthy cologne that Simon wore, smoke with a twinge of metal.  She hummed at the scent, but before she got too caught up in her own mind, she grabbed her phone, wallet, and headed out to the parking lot. 

Y/N knew exactly where Soap parked his truck so she made a b-line straight for it, not too far from the front doors of the base. Walking out into the parking lot, she saw that the guys were already standing and waiting by the black pickup. 

Soap was the first one to see, and as soon as he did, his eyes widened. "Jesus, lass! You look like yer gettin swallowed whole inside that thing!" 

Simon whipped his head around to see what the commotion was about, his heart skipping a beat when he got a good look at Y/N, wearing his hoodie. 

Y/N felt the slightest bit sheepish at Soap's comment, but tried not to let it show. "I do not." She retorted, "It's windy out here and I'm cold." 

She walked past Soap to head towards Simon who stood beside the backdoor. Before she got in she glanced over her shoulder at the Scot. "Besides, I like'em big."

For a brief second, Y/N's eyes flicked from Soap to narrow in on Simon as she said that, picking up at the quick breath he took and held it in. She smirked then quickly climbed into the back seat. 

Simon briefly locked eyes with Soap, seeing a boyish smirk on the Sergeant's face. He huffed, then followed Y/N into the truck. 

He knew he shouldn't have let it slip to Johnny about his "admiration" for Y/N or else he wouldn't have that shit eating grin on his face.

Soap only laughed before climbing into his truck. Price sat up front with him while Simon, Y/N and Gaz sat in the back. It was a tad of a squeeze (mostly due to Simon's large stature), but it wasn't so bad. Though Gaz was the second to gawk at Y/N's ginormous hoodie, and she laughed saying that the bigger the hoodie, the more comfortable to which he then asked the rhetorical question of 'what is it with girls and hoodies?'

The team laughed, Simon on the other hand, kept peeking down at Y/N seeing her completely covered by the black fabric, remembering the night he gave it to her. It had been a night of hushed conversation, a shared moment of privacy among the chilled air, and as she shivered in her spot beside him, he took only a second to stop and pull off his sweatshirt then plop it in her lap. 

She had been stunned, it was evident from the look she gave, but she wasted no time pulling the fabric over her head. Once it engulfed her figure, she let out a relieved hum, a smile and tucked her face into the collar of it. 

Simon loved the way it hung around her, like she belonged inside of it. 

On any given day, Simon would not have done something that was clearly so intimate to him, but this was a moment that Y/N and him shared alone, without the eyes of anyone on base. However, seeing Y/N wearing it now with everyone to see felt scandalous, if he had to label it; a deeper peek into his psyche.

He couldn’t decide if he liked that or not. 

The sharp pause of the vehicle into a parking spot, provided Simon an escape from the suddenly hot air of the truck as he hopped out. Once everyone stepped out, following Soap, they all headed toward the bar. It was a small, modest place, nothing fancy but it would keep them busy for the next few hours. Soap walked up to the bars' counter to sit down, followed by all of 141.

Y/N sat beside Soap, who was already ordering a drink, and Simon came up to the empty seat to the right of Y/N with Price and Gaz sitting closer to Soap.

“Keep the drinks to a minimum, would you Soap? Last time you got drunk, we had to drag you back to the base.” Y/N pointedly suggested.

Soap scoffed, “Oi, are you my mother? I can handle myself.”

At that, Y/N let out an amused laugh coming from the gut. “No you can’t. You were so out of it that you thought you were being kidnapped when we hoisted you up into Price’s truck.” 

Soap paused for a moment, eyes drifting upward as if he were searching through his memories of that night. “I don’t remember that.”

“You wouldn’t remember, mate.” Gaz chirped in, “You’d put a sailor to shame with as much drink as you had.”

“More like the whole ship.” Price added with a huffed smirk and then took a drink of his whiskey. 

Y/N readjusted in her seat as she turned to slightly face the Scot, “I had to keep Ghost from killing you; you’d kicked him right in the ribs and you better believe you owe me.”

“Ah, Ghost woulda’ kill me. He’s too fond of my daring personality.” Soap teased, leaning forward to peer around Y/N to look at Simon. 

“Don’t count yourself lucky, Johnny. A kick to the ribs makes a compelling argument for killin’ ya.” Simon simply stated, thick accent and husky voice making him sound serious. 

Y/N chuckled to herself however at his obvious banter, taking a sip of her drink. 

A loud pfft sound left Soap’s mouth, waving off Simon’s words and swallowing his bourbon down in one go. 

Soap set his glass down onto the bar with a thud before he spoke again. “And of course, the only thing that could stop the giant was the fluttering eyes of our lass here.”

If she was honest with herself, that very idea made Y/N’s heart flutter and unconsciously, she bit her bottom lip, sparing a subtle glance up to Simon. His dark eyes glowed in the ambient light of the bar, casting a shadowed glare toward the Scot in an oddly defensive way.

He said nothing, but he didn’t have to. His expression said it all. 

“Aww, don’t get bent out of shape LT. No man could resist such beauty.” Soap holds up his hands in fake surrender.

“Shove off, Soap.” Y/N playfully pushed the Scot at the same time he slipped off his bar stool.

“Anyone want to play a round of pool?” Soap offered, taking a step back from Y/N’s strong left hook.

Gaz nodded, quickly finishing his drink and ordering another. “I’m in.”

“I suppose I could weigh in.” Price says, slipping out of his seat and following Soap and Gaz to the empty pool table off to the corner. 

Y/N leaves no time for Simon to give a definitive answer while she hops off her bar stool, leaving her cup behind. “May as well. You coming, Simon?”

She glances over her shoulder and It’s obvious that he is caught off-guard, making a great effort to look unaffected. However, he hums and gets up from his seat. 

He seems to automatically trail behind Y/N in her path to the pool table, where the rest of the team is waiting. 

“You and LT are a team; Gaz and I are a team. Alright with you two?” Soap automatically assigns, watching Y/N shrug. 

“Sounds good to me.” Y/N smirked, already picking up a pool cue.

While Soap and Gaz grab their own pool cues, Y/N takes this opportunity to let her hair (literally), pulling the hair band from the tight bun she had it in and letting the tresses fall to her shoulders. 

Simon watches as the thick strands fall from the bun, and lightly bounce once they hit her shoulders and back. The cool air of the bar wafting from outside, breezes past Y/N and into Simon; there’s a scent of gunpowder with an underlying smell of a fruity soap from her shampoo. 

Those two types of scents don’t belong, Simon thinks, however, he cannot deny that it suits Y/N in an odd way and he takes a moment to commit it to memory. 

“Woah, Y/N…” Gaz comments, looking up from the pool table. 

Soap whips his head up from aligning the cue ball with the solid and striped ones. “How the hell do you keep all that wrapped up?” 

“I’m just magic like that.” Y/N smirks, running her fingers through her hair to massage the soreness on her scalp. 

“Teach me your magic?” Gaz teases Y/N as he steps over to her. 

She hums, “I don’t know Gaz, you actually have hair in order to learn my ways.”

The group laughs as Gaz nudges her away from him, all in good fun of course. 

She takes the opportunity to spare a glance up to Simon, seeing that he is staring down at her with a shine in his eyes that tells her only the good things about what he must be thinking. Before he catches it, she smirks and turns back to the others to begin their game. 

From that moment on, for the rest of the evening, the tension grew with each passing second. Only ripening, the few times during their pool match, when Y/N leaned down to shoot her shot, and she would slide back to stand straight up, there Simon would be; looming shadow over her while keeping a respectful distance. 

It was all palpable in a way that only Y/N and Simon knew, but not bursting at the seams. No, it was slowly simmering, waiting for the right opportunity to be released. 

By the time the night ended, the boys buzzed and chipper, the squad made it back to base with little to no problems, from Soap that is who made it apparent that he was perfectly consciousness.

It got a laugh out of them, as Simon and Y/N departed and were finally alone.

They were heading to their respective rooms, the heavy thud of their boots hitting the ground, the only sound between them as they walked down a long corridor. It remained that way until Y/N broke the silence.

“Did you have fun, Simon?” 

He looked to her from the invisible spot on the ground that he’d been watching, “As much fun as I could, I suppose.”

“Me too. It’s nice to relax every once in a while.” She hums contently. 

“I imagine it’s not difficult to relax when you have a sweatshirt that’s two sizes too big.” Simon remarks, hearing Y/N laugh as he does. 

“You have a point there!” 

There’s a brief pause before Simon speaks up again, “Do you fancy wearing clothes that swallow you whole?”

She stops in her path, suddenly standing in front of her room door, one that Simon almost missed as he came to an abrupt stop. “Only when I’m attached to it.”

They stand and stare, soaking in the implications, and reveling in the secret between them. 

Simon, in a moment of courage he’s not sure where it came from, raises a calloused hand to gently slide his index finger against the skin of her cheek. “Well, I’d say it suits you.”

Y/N smiles, eyes crinkling at the edges in a softness that she doesn’t direct to just anyone. No, this is only for him because despite all the teasing and flirting, that is not where her affection stops. Not when her heart is thundering beneath her ribcage with her skin completely flushed with desire. 

Without much thought, Y/N leans forward, forcing herself up onto her tippy toes and plants the softest of kisses to his cheek. Though it's covered by his balaclava, he feels the pressures of her lips against him, the warmth of them seeping past the mask and into his skin so much so, that when Y/N eventually pulls away, he leans forward the slightest bit to keep her there. 

Her eyes flick up to meet his, shining with something unspoken yet recognized as wanting. However, she doesn’t act on it, instead she keeps the small distance between their bodies and whispers three simple words. 

You were the latest addition to the Task Force, a new effort to "inject culture" as you so lovingly had teased. And true enough, you brought color to the task force. Soap had practically dropped to one knee in front of you the first time you made feijoada in a crock pot in the rec room, the smell permeated the room in the most homely way possible. There was a warmth in your chest at having cared for your teammates the best way you knew how, especially at how readily they ate up their portions, Soap and Gaz elbowing each other to get seconds.

You proudly brought your team into frame anytime you got a FaceTime call from your family back home, joyfully introducing them in beautiful Portuguese, laughing when your cousins teased Soap for his hair, playfully admonishing your nephews for making comments about Ghost's mask, telling your mom to back off when she started asking which one of them you were going to bring home for the holidays.

Task Force 141 was being assigned a joint operation with some members of Los Vaqueros to help dismantle the remnants of some narcos operation. Soap had been talking your ear off about Alejandro and Rudy, their previous collaboration with the men was before your transfer into the task force. Needless to say, you were curious to meet the men.

The five of you were sat in the briefing room reviewing plans and schematics when Alejandro and Rudy walked with competence and confidence. With an ease that spoke to how well they knew the men in the room,

"¿Qué onda?" Alejandro firmly shook the team's hands and pulled them into firm embraces, until it was your turn. You gave him your name with a grin that matched his, an enthusiasm whose origin he caught onto quickly,

"¿Hablas español?"

"Portuguese, hermano." You beamed, "But I can understand you for the most part."

"Brazil?" Rudy offered as he shook your hand warmly,

"Where else?" You beamed,

"Here comes trouble." Soap teased, earning a playful elbow in the ribs from you. Alejandro laughed, bright and deep,

"Qué chingón. This is going to be better than I thought."

The remainder of the op would pass in a surprisingly joyful blur. Alejandro and Rudy would speak to you in Spanish, and you'd either answer in Portuguese on instinct or you'd ask Alejandro to repeat himself, bastard speaks Spanish faster than you can keep up with at times. And he'd always, happily repeat himself. Rudy would ask you to teach him a few phrases in Portuguese and he'd tell you a few in Spanish, always careful to let you know when slang was involved.

You'd compare your breakfast dishes, while arguing that Brazil had the best. In your proud opinion, nothing beats pão de queijo with some scrambled eggs and coffee. To which Alejandro would protest that huevos rancheros were better, earning him a swift, playful, smack on the arm. Rudy gently interjected with his preference of huevos divorciados, resulting in both you and Alejandro looking at him like he'd sprung a second head.

The nights would end around a crackling fire, something warm cradled between palms, laughter and teasing nonstop. You loved going toe to toe with Alejandro, you loved hearing the easy Spanish he shared with Rudy and the rest of his men. It made you feel right at home.

And 141? They loved seeing this side of you, proud, joyful, and sharing in the beauty of your home.

—

This woman would definitely fund the school you work at.

She wouldn’t tell you it was her, but she’d relish in the way you smiled as you told her about the anonymous tips.

Need more construction paper and art supplies?

You got it.

Kids need more toys?

There were definitely better uses of her money, but you best believe the school will have some sent anonymously.

One thing Valeria admired the most about you was the sheer amount of love and patience you had for the kids you taught.

Whether it be the way you hugged them and treated them with such tenderness and love, or the way you carefully created each activity for the following day

She admired it all.

Sure, she absolutely despised the Idea of being surrounded by (literal demons) kids all day, but you just made it look so easy.

On late nights when she’d be getting back from whatever meeting or transgression she had to oversee that day and saw you hard at work, safety scissors in one hand and construction paper in the other, she’d let out a small sigh before walking behind you and resting herself against your hunched back

“You should be in bed, Mi Vida. Wouldn't want to have those pretty fingers of yours cut off on accident, right?”

“But I’m almost finished, Vale!” You’d whine, a tired pout on your lips as you turn to face your wife.

And thats how despite she herslf being tired, she’d find herself taking the scissors away from your hands and taking a seat beside you, finishing cutting whatever stencil you were cutting this time.

Another thing she’d enjoy is you talking about your day.

She liked listening to you talk as she did her paper work. Sure, it distracted her but she wouldn’t say that outloud.

Though usually indifferent and just humming to let you know she was listening, she’d occasionally respond back

“Can you believe that he kicked poor Jose just for trying to take one of the blocks from his tower during clean up!?”

“Well, he did have it coming-“

“Valeria, no-!”

It may not be Valeria’s profession of choice, but it’s yours and she’ll do everything in her power to support you and make sure you’re happy and come back home with that same charming smile.

—

🎀 first Tumblr post / COD fic, hopefully you enjoy this and find the premise interesting enough. <3