The entire mission was a complete and utter disaster.

You don't even know what really happened. One moment, you had split up from your task force to clear an enemy compound. The next, the building was collapsing around you.

You struggled to get out in time. Insurgents kept you busy, emptying their mags as you sprinted down the dark hallways, alarms blaring, lights flashing. You dodged bullets that flew hot past your head, the ceiling crumbling behind you and blocking the rest of the hallway.

Your legs were burning, lungs straining, heart hammering painfully against your ribcage. You could taste dust in the air, copper coating your tongue. Black particles flew around in the air in flurries, your vision becoming increasingly blurred.

You spluttered, squinting through the flashing lights and long shadows. As you ran down the hallway, you checked each passing doorway in search of your task force. You found nothing.

The compound rocked again, another explosion sending you off your feet. You flew forward, skidding along the dust-covered floor, the air being pushed from your lungs. You took a gasping breath, crawling back to your feet as the ceiling above you fell through. You scrambled out of the way just in time, a slab of concrete slamming into the ground with an ear-splitting thud.

"Oh my god..." You breathed, shuffling backwards. You pressed at your communication collar, trying to get through to anyone.

The only voice that filled your ears was your own as you called out for your comrades. Your comms were cut, buzzing with static.

You cursed, continuing down the hallway as the compound shook and shuddered around you. You could smell smoke now, the narrow hall filling with an acrid grey cloud that made your stomach churn.

You needed to get the hell out of there.

A surge of adrenaline taking hold of you, you kicked down the nearest door. It flew off it's hinges, and you ran inside. You swept the small room, finding it clear, before you rushed towards the window. As you ran towards it, you fired your gun, the bullets shattering the glass. Then, crystal fragments of the windowpane still falling like snowflakes, you leapt out the window just as flames began ripping down the hallway behind you.

You hit the grass and rolled, slicing your arms on the shards of glass. When you stopped rolling, you lay flat on your back and took several deep breaths.

But there was no time to lay down. With adrenaline still coursing hot through your veins, you got up and ran.

•º•

You searched everywhere. For hours, you searched through the debris of nearby compounds, also returning to the one you escaped from, combing through the chunks of concrete and steel. You couldn't find any signs of your captain, lieutenant, or fellow sergeants anywhere, dead or alive. You weren't sure if that gave you hope or not.

After what seemed like an eternity, you decided to fall back from the area. You knew there was a safe house a few miles out, and you just hoped that some of your task force had made it there.

So you ran.

Usually, you would never have willingly ran that far. But your body was drunk on adrenaline, your heart pumping so fast you felt as though it'd explode out of your chest at any second. So, clutching your assault rifle, you sprinted as fast as you could continuously for several kilometres in pure darkness.

Once the adrenaline wore off, your body would be not be happy with you.

You reached the safe house in the early hours of the morning. It was still pitch black in the area surrounding the house– shadowed woodlands to one side, dark farmland to the other.

You could still taste smoke and blood in your mouth as you climbed up the front steps. Coughing, you stumbled inside, and was immediately met with a gun to your forehead.

"What the–?" You stuttered through a cough, the muzzle of a pistol pressed between your eyes.

Behind the gun, Gaz let out a loud, relieved sigh. "Sarge, oh my god." His sentence was full of disbelief and shock. He lowered his gun and took a good look at you, his eyes widening. "Oh my god..." He repeated, more relieved this time.

He wrapped his arms around you, crushing you to his chest. Your face was pushed between his pecs, and you didn't have the heart to tell him he was literally suffocating you.

"I was... oh my god, I was so worried about you," he said, letting you go and closing the front door. "You weren't answering comms, and I was scared–"

"My comms are fried," you grimaced, yanking your collar off. Meanwhile, you kicked off your shoes and put your gun down too. "Where're the others?"

Gaz nodded behind him. "Soap got hit, so he's resting in the back room. Ghost is with him. Price's asleep. I was meant to be on watch–"

Your mouth dropped open. "Is Soap okay? Let me–"

You went to move past Gaz, but he stopped you with a hand to your shoulder. "Hold on, sarge, he'll be asleep. You can see him in the morning."

You released a short breath, nodding. Gaz smiled sympathetically, squeezing your shoulder. He continued to hold your shoulder as his eyes scanned your face.

You turned to him, frowning. "What?"

"You're a bit cut up," he whispered, bringing his other hand to your face. He pressed his thumb to a cut on your cheekbone, and you hissed in pain. He retracted his thumb. "Sorry. Let... let me clean you up."

"I'm fine." You yawned, shuffling away from him and sinking onto the couch. A cloud of dust lifted when you sunk down onto the cushions, making you sneeze.

"Bless you," Gaz said, appearing in front of you with a first aid kit. Where'd he get that? "And you're not fine, sarge. Just let me clean you up, eh?"

He situated himself beside you, opening the kit and producing some antiseptic wipes. You peered at him suspiciously as he tore the packaging open and held the small white cloth towards your face.

You jerked away. "Do you even know what you're doing?"

He smiled. "Not really."

He pressed the wipe to the cut on your cheekbone and you hissed out again, cursing beneath your breath at the sting. The pain was sharp, but his touch was gentle– one hand holding your face while the other wiped the dirt and dried blood away from the wound.

"You're not supposed to use antiseptic wipes on cuts, Gaz." You mumbled as he pulled the wipe away, your skin tingling.

Gaz tossed the wipe aside. "Why didn't you bloody tell me that?"

"Forgot," you told him. "And, hey, don't blame me! You've been in the military longer. Haven't you learnt this already?"

Gaz was now fishing some saline solution from the first aid kit. He uncapped the small bottle, then proceeded to flush the wound. The solution was cold on your cheek, and you shivered when a droplet rolled down your jaw and neck.

"Probably," Gaz said, a small smile cracking across his face. "But I wasn't really paying attention."

With his thumb, he smeared the small streams of saline across your cheek, inspecting the wound. He put the bottle back in the kit, producing a small plaster and tearing off the plastic backing. Carefully, he stuck it over the wound on your cheek, his other hand still cupping the side of your face.

Gaz's eyes fell across the rest of your face, darting between your features. His expression was soft as he held your face, his thumb rubbing along the edge of the sticking plaster. Dark eyes trailed the shape of your face through the semi-darkness, and you could feel the warmth of his hands against your cheeks.

Your heart was pumping, remnants of adrenaline lingering in your veins.

"Is this why you weren't paying attention during your med training?" You joked with a coy smile. "Got distracted?"

His eyes fell to your mouth briefly, before darting back up to your eyes. His brows furrowed slightly, giving him an expression of puppy-like confusion. "What?"

You laughed lightly. "Nevermind."

You could visibly see his heart rate pick up by the way his breathing quickened and the way his pupils began to slowly expand. You couldn't help but feel warm with the way he was looking at you, the way he was cradling your face like you were made of porcelain. You imagined you looked a mess with blood and dust across your face, sweaty and frazzled from your sprint through the forest.

But the way he was looking at you... your stomach was fluttering.

"Gaz..." You whispered, and his mouth dropped open a fraction, a breathy whine escaping. That surprised you, and you couldn't help but smirk at him. "What're you doing?"

He looked you in the eyes, whispering, "Sarge..."

"Yeah?"

"I really want to kiss you right now."

You almost choked on your inhale. That caught you off guard.

"What?" You blinked.

"I really want to–"

"Okay, no, I heard you, I'm just–"

"Gaz, mate, have you–? Oh."

You and Gaz's heads snapped over to the hall leading to the bedrooms, Price strolling into the room and immediately pausing. You and Gaz jumped apart, with you smoothing your hands down your face in an attempt to refocus yourself. Gaz dropped his hands nervously into his lap.

Price raised a brow. "O...kay. Are you two alright?"

"Yep." You and Gaz both answered at the same time.

Price gave you both another skeptical look, before he was picking up his own assault rifle from a nearby table, fishing a cigar out of his trouser pocket.

"Right, I'm going on watch for an hour, so I'll be outside if you need me," he said slowly, inching towards the front door. "And... the side room's free if..." He stopped himself, shaking his head as he opened the door. He glanced back over his shoulder. "Just keep in mind that Soap and Ghost are asleep."

"Bloody hell, captain." Gaz grumbled as Price closed the front door behind him.

You couldn't help but laugh, Gaz's head dropping in embarrassment. You shuffled towards him, placing a hand on his knee, and his body responded immediately, jolting beneath your touch.

"Gaz?" You prompted softly.

He looked up, clearing his throat. "Hmm?"

"You can kiss me. It's okay."

•º•

Gaz kissed you all the way down the shadowy hallway. He kissed you as he backed you into the side bedroom, closed the door and guided you back onto the bed. He kissed you as you whispered his name into his mouth over and over again as he pulled your dirty clothes from your body.

Everything about him was so warm. His lips against yours, his tongue in your mouth, warm and solid. The whispered whimpers he released into your mouth as your tongue met his were warm, too, heating your body up.

His hands burned a scorching path down your bare skin, smoothing down your sides, down your waist, circling your hips. His fingers pressed to the curve of your arse, forcing your hips up to grind against him. He was warm against your bare core, the material of his boxers damp with pre-cum.

When did he take his pants off?

You don't know. And you didn't care. You were focused on the way your body sweltered beneath his touch as he pulled and pushed the flesh of your arse and thighs like dough. The way he lifted your hips to press into his made you arch, your tits snagging against the tight compression shirt he had been wearing beneath his outer shirt.

Gaz finally pulled away from your mouth as you mewled, a string of saliva following and snapping as he sat back on his heels. His hands moved, massaging along your thighs and legs as his stare raked over your body. He let out a low moan, before he was ripping his shirt off and rolling down beside you. You gasped when he snatched your hips off the mattress, dragging you with surprising strength to sit you across his upper chest.

"Gaz?" You whispered down at him, and he moaned. You giggled, placing a hand to his mouth.

He could feel your bare cunt against the swell of his pectoral muscles, and he moaned into your hand again. You were throbbing against him, slick pooling against his burning skin.

"Ssmm-uhmmm-mmhmm."

You giggled again as he tried to speak into your palm. You tentatively lifted your hand. "What was that?"

"Sit on my face." He said a bit too loudly, and you were slapping your hand back across his mouth again.

"Gaz!" You scolded in a whisper-shout. "You have to be quiet."

His brow furrowed, before his hands were coming to grasp your arse cheeks again. He began grinding you against his chest, getting a full view of your face and tits directly above him. He moaned against your palm, eyes rolling as he felt your slit drag against him, warm and wet. Your mouth dropped open in a gasp, your swollen clit moving against the smooth mound of his muscle. The grip he had on your arse was vice-like, and you wondered whether you'd feel it in the morning.

Well, it was the morning.

Soft, orangey-pink hues filtered through the thin curtains, bathing you in the colours of the sunset. The pigments shimmered against your skin, making you look like an absolute dream. Gaz clearly agreed, because he moaned beneath your palm again, eyelids sinking low.

He continued to grind you against him, listening to the soft pants falling from your lips. You opened your eyes and looked down at him, finally moving your hand. Instead, you placed your fingers around his neck. You didn't squeeze, but the obvious pressure made Gaz whine out your name, hips bucking behind you.

"Sweetheart, please, fuck, please let me–" He grit his teeth as a moan bubbled up your throat, your core throbbing against his chest. "Please sit on my face. Please, baby, please, just let me... ah fuck, just let me taste you, please."

You shushed him gently, removing your hand from his throat. You smiled down at him, beginning to lift your hips so that you could move your hips over his face. But he beat you to it– hands against your arse, he pushed you forward so quickly you lost your balance and had to grab onto the headboard. He pulled your hips down, licking a stripe up your dripping slit before he was shoving his tongue into your hole, burying his face against you.

Now, he could be as loud as he wanted with his voice being lost inside you. He moaned against your folds, the vibrations making you keen. Gaz moaned again, his tongue pressing deeper inside you, in and out, in and out.

You bit your lip to stifle the sounds threatening to spill out. You were hyper-aware of Soap and Ghost sleeping across the hall. And your captain somewhere outside.

But Gaz couldn’t care less. He was whimpering and moaning as he tasted you, dragging his tongue through your folds until he found your clit. He circled it, before sucking it into his mouth.

Your thighs clamped around his head, and he felt his cock twitch in his boxers, pearls of pre-cum staining the fabric. Fuck, he was so hard.

One hand still on one of your arse cheeks, he moved one down to grab his cock out of his boxers. He fisted it, tongue stuttering against you. He was so sensitive, so needy for you. His pace resumed, and he dipped his tongue back into your throbbing hole, pairing the movements of his fist with his tongue.

"Gaz," you whispered down at him, waiting for him to look up at you before you continued. His dark eyes were glassy, pupils blown. He whimpered against your cunt when you flexed the muscles of your thighs, tightening around his head. "M'gonna come, Gaz." You whined, rocking your hips against his mouth.

"Please, please, please." He mumbled against you. You had no idea what he said, but he knew. He knew he was begging you to come in his mouth and he wasn't embarrassed to admit it.

You put a hand to your own mouth as you came, a moan falling from your lips and muffled against your palm. Your entire body shuddered as you came around Gaz's tongue, and he was disappointed he didn't get to hear you properly. He licked up your release, the loudest thing in the room being the sound of his lewd slurping.

It made your brain short-circuit as you came down from your high, and you managed to lift yourself away from his mouth. He tried to pull you back onto him, but you resisted, shakily climbing back down his body. He immediately sat up and chased you– slamming his mouth to yours and stuffing his tongue past your lips. You could taste yourself on him as you straddled him.

"Want you so bad, sweetheart," he said against you as he somehow managed to pull his boxers the rest of the way down his legs, tossing them across the room. "Need you. Come on, baby, please."

Gaz had one hand on your hip, the other around the base of his cock as he guided it up and down your slit. He collected your arousal against his sensitive tip, and he breathed out your name. You braced yourself with your hands against his shoulders as he clumsily knocked the weeping head of his cock against your hole.

"You have to be quiet, Gaz," you whispered into his ear, sucking a mark beneath the lobe. He whimpered, hips bucking, tip prodding at your sopping cunt. You smiled against his skin. "Can you be quiet for me?"

"Yes, yes, yes, fuck, yes, please." Gaz babbled quietly, squeezing your hips, circling the head of his cock against your hole.

You sat up, tits pressed flush with his chest.

"Kiss me." You whispered and he did. As he rushed upwards to place his mouth on yours, you sunk down onto his cock. He removed his hand, grabbing both of your hips, moaning your name into your mouth as you kissed him.

You took him all, and he whined the entire time you sunk down onto him. When you stilled, pelvis against his, clit pressed to the dark hair at the base, he whispered your name into your mouth and rubbed circles on your hips.

"You okay?" You asked, lips brushing his.

He had his eyes closed, panting. You lifted a hand to cup the back of his head, and he opened his eyes. When he saw your face, how pretty you looked, his head dropped back and he released a whiny moan. Your other hand was quick to slam over his mouth.

"Gaz," you whispered sternly. "You have to be quiet if you want to fuck me, okay? Can you do that?"

He nodded quickly, trying to rock his hips against you. The sensation made the both of you whimper. Even behind your palm, his sounds of pleasure were still louder than yours.

You slowly lifted your hand.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'll be quiet, baby, I promise," he panted, slowly beginning to rock up into you. "Yeah, I'll be quiet, baby. I'll be good... fuck, I'll be good..."

He was muttering beneath his breath as his steady pace began, fucking up into you and nailing that perfect spot over and over again. You trapped a moan between your teeth, clutching at Gaz's shoulders as he fucked you. He watched you the entire time, eyes never leaving your face as his cock filled you. His cock making you feel so good.

The bed creaked lightly, the colours of the sunrise washing over the both of you as your bodies melded together. Gaz panted and whined beneath you, sucking kisses along the swell of your breasts and the curve of your neck and shoulders. You whispered his name, too, over and over again. The days extremities suddenly gone, the cuts on your face and arms suddenly painless.

All you could feel was Gaz.

He was doing so well.

And you wanted him to know it.

You looked down at him. Unsurprisingly, he was already gazing up at you, eyes misty and full of adoration.

"S'that feel good?" You whispered, bringing a hand down to stroke his face as he continued to thrust up into you. "Is this what you wanted? Yeah?"

Gaz nodded, humming his approval behind closed lips. If he opened them, he was scared he'd moan too loud. You were so warm and tight around him, so wet– sucking him in so well. It felt like you were made for him.

"Yeah?" You repeated again, cupping his cheek and pressing a kiss to his lips. It was over quickly, and he whined in the back of his throat.

"You're being so good," you whispered, meeting the thrusts of his hips and fucking yourself back down onto him. "You're such a good boy... being such a good boy for me, Kyle."

The government name.

His eyes rolled, and his mouth dropped open. He moaned your name loudly, before his words stretched out into breathy whimpers. His hips stilled, and you felt his cock twitch once, twice, before he was coming inside you. Your eyes widened as he filled you, string after string painting your insides hot. He whimpered through it, face now buried between your tits, hips rocking desperately as he rode out his premature high.

"Gaz..." You whispered, continuing to rock yourself against him. You were full of him, his cock semi-hard inside you, but you were so, so close.

"Fuck, m'sorry," he uttered into your skin. "M'sorry, baby, I didn't mean–"

"It's okay, Gaz, it's okay," you reassured him. "You did so well, it's okay. Just– ah, fuck, m'so close–"

With a groan, he pulled out of you and sat you back on his lap. He took two of his fingers and eased them back into your cunt. He plugged his cum back inside you, thrusting his fingers deep, curling against your walls.

It was your turn to moan loudly, and Gaz had to stifle the sound with his mouth. He kissed you as he added another finger. Three of his digits moved in and out of you, wet sounds echoing around the room, mixing with your breathless pants as you struggled to maintain a kiss.

"Come on, sweetheart, come on." He whispered against your mouth. Your orgasm built quickly in the base of your tummy, and you felt your thighs begin to shake, your cunt fluttering around his fingers.

"Kyle." You whimpered, and Gaz felt himself beginning to harden again.

"Come for me, baby, please." He whispered, and your body listened straight away.

You came around his fingers, walls clamping around him. You managed to keep your moan lodged in your throat– the only thing escaping being a whisper of his name. Your entire body trembled as you fizzled down from your high, and you slumped against Gaz with a content sigh. He caught you, lowering the both of you back into the mattress, removing his fingers from your cunt.

You stuck them all in his mouth, and you whined, slapping him lightly on the chest as he hummed around them.

"So good." He murmured, and you tapped his chest again.

"You're impossible." You mumbled tiredly.

He grinned. "Thank you."

"Oh my god–"

•º•

An hour or so later, the task force regrouped in the living room, gearing up for the evac. Gaz helped you fasten your tac-vest to your torso, running his fingers along your waist as he did so. You couldn't help but smile at him, and he winked. You could still feel him inside you.

Across the room, Price cleared his throat. "Alright, you lot, let's get moving."

Soap laughed from beside Ghost near the front door. "And don't worry, you two, we'll walk slow. Since, you know, you didn't manage to get much rest."

Gaz's eyes widened. "Well, wait–"

Your mouth dropped open. "Soap, you fucking–"

The Scotsman laughed again.

You and Gaz clearly weren't quiet enough.

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

everything happened so fast; price, ghost, and soap dived one way, and you and gaz dived the other in the same moment the enemies opened fire, effectively separating the five of you and planting the seed of dread in your stomach.

before you knew it, you’d been cornered in a room, the only way out being the door you’d come in through, which was now crowded with people who very much wanted you dead. there wasn’t much in the way of cover in the room, but there was a large, sturdy table that you and kyle had flipped onto its side so you could hide behind it. a few hostiles had ventured closer to try and finish you off, but those foolish few quickly met their death.

you were well and truly pinned.

price had radioed that they’d make their way towards the two of you as soon as possible, once they’d taken out their own pursuers. the only thing you could do until then was try to survive and kill as many hostiles as you could in the process.

you aim down your sights, bones aching more and more with every second, but when you pull the trigger, all that meets your ears is an empty click. the noise sends an ice cold wave through your veins like an omen of death.

you're out of ammo.

shit.

"i’m out!" you call to gaz, and in response he shoots you a fleeting wide eyed glance.

"just hold tight," he calls back, furrowing his brow as he fires shot after shot, "reinforcements are on the way, we just have to stay alive ‘till then."

he tries to sound confident, but you can tell he's just as panicked as you are. your eyes dart around the space, desperately pulling at threads to find a way out of this impossible situation, to make it out alive – to make sure kyle makes it out alive.

it's then that you spot it.

a grenade, on the vest of an enemy solider you'd shot earlier.

his body wasn’t far, but it was beyond the cover of the table, meaning to grab it you'd have to run into open fire; but if you got it, it was a guaranteed way out of here.

you glance back at kyle, still returning fire with his own limited supply of ammo. he hadn't noticed the explosive, still focused on the group guarding the door, but he couldn’t defend your position forever. you'd be risking your life if you went for it, but you'd both be killed if you didn't.

it was a terrible idea, but you were doing it anyway.

with a sudden burst of renewed energy in your exhausted muscles, you launch yourself towards the body from your crouched position, wasting no time in pulling the grenade from his vest – except it wasn’t as easy to grab as you’d first assumed, there was a strap holding it in place that the tremor in your hands made unclasping difficult.

in the back of your mind you hear kyle scream your name, but he’s drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears.

your heart is in your throat as your fingers miss the strap once, twice, and finally get it free on the third try.

you snatch the grenade and prepare to bolt back to cover, but before you can move a blinding pain shoots through your leg, knocking you off balance causing you to tumble backwards.

you’re hit, you realise that much, but through the panic you can’t focus on anything else. you desperately try to shuffle backwards, towards your cover, but without the use of one leg you just can’t seem to move fast enough.

another bullet whizzes by your face, just catching the skin of your cheekbone and leaving you with a noticeable slice. you can’t dwell on how close a call that one was, however, because before you can react you’re being yanked backwards by the strap on the back of your vest.

you hear gaz’s voice calling to you again, his words passing through one ear and straight out the other.

mustering all your remaining strength, you rip the pin from the grenade, push yourself up on your uninjured leg, and pitch the grenade through the doorway with surprising accuracy considering how much your head was swimming.

no sooner than the grenade leaves your fingertips, gaz has an arm around your waist and uses it to haul you to the ground with him. he doesn’t get the chance to scold you before the explosion, both of you squeezing your eyes shut at the flash of light and the boom that makes your ears ring.

when you pry open your eyes, kyle is hovering above you with his hands supporting him on either side of your head, glaring at you with a fury you've never witnessed from him before.

if you weren't so distracted by the agony radiating from the bullet hole in your thigh, you might have had the mind to be flustered by the position. but thankfully – for your dignity, at least – you don’t have the mental capacity to be embarrassed.

"you're in trouble now," he growled down at you, sharply pushing himself off you and leaving you heaving air into your lungs on the floor. you watch him peer over the table, gun poised as he waits a second or two for any movement, but he doesn’t fire.

if the eerie silence is any indication, it sounds like your slapdash plan actually worked.

"what the fuck were you thinking?" kyle yells, ripping the small medical pack from his vest and dropping to his knees next to you as he rifles through it.

"i was– ugh–" you grunt as you agitate your leg sitting up, "thinking, i’m gonna save both of our lives!" you hiss, leaning your back against the table.

"and let yourself get killed in the process?" he pulls out a roll of bandages, piling the material onto your wound and leaning on it with all his weight. a pained groan escapes your throat before you can stop it, but kyle doesn't relent. "you really think that's a good plan?"

"i would if it meant you would live!" you cry, gripping his wrist and clenching your jaw so tight you were worried you might break a tooth.

"just–" you jerk with a yelp when he shifts his weight on your leg, "stay still!" he sounds almost pleading, stunning you into freezing where you sit.

kyle sighs deeply, sitting back on his heels and dragging a hand down his face. when he drops his hand again, your heart clenches at the sight of his glossy eyes and conflicted expression.

"kyle…" you reach a weak hand out to him, resting it on his upper arm, and he snaps back to reality. with a slight shake of his head, he grabs a fresh handful of bandages, putting his weight back on your wound as quickly as he could.

"you're lucky it went clean through." he mutters, sounding significantly more choked up than he had before. "never pull that kinda shit again, you hear me?"

you smile, the pain twisting your expression slightly, and move your hand up to cup his cheek. "not plannin’ on it, garrick."

the bleeding has slowed significantly by now, allowing kyle to lift one of his hands to cover the one holding his face. your thumb strokes the rise of his cheekbone, exhaling as the tension melts from your shoulders. even with the ringing in your ears, the lack of gunshots was almost peaceful.

"oi!" kyle jostles your shoulder, your eyes snapping back open where you hadn't realised they'd fallen shut. "you're not allowed to die on me, love, i'll kick your arse if you do."

"i'll keep that in mind." you breathe an airy chuckle, giving his cheek a gentle pat and dropping your hand into your lap.

there's a pause in the conversation, as kyle grabs more bandages and concentrates on your leg – which had more or less stopped bleeding thanks to his efforts, but despite this, you could still clearly see the panic in his eyes.

"hey," you call out to him, his gaze snapping up to you with a concerned frown. you grin, and gesture for him to come closer, pointing to the small cut on your face. "you missed a spot."

kyle rolls his eyes. "you're an idiot." he chuckles, wiping as much of your blood from his hands as possible before swinging one of his legs over both of yours. he's careful not to touch your injured leg when he leans closer, cleaning the dried blood on your cheek and covering the cut with a large bandaid.

once he's sure you're not bleeding from anywhere else, he takes your face gently in both hands and presses a featherlight kiss to your cheek, right over where the cut was.

"there," he utters, moving to kiss your forehead, then your nose, and finally pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. "all better."

you bring your own hand to rest on his back, smiling against his lips as you press your forehead to his. "yeah, all better."

January

Kyle's new neighbor moves in the day after New Year's.

He hadn’t even known his old neighbor had moved out, so rare was it that he spent time at home. He sees the moving van just as he’s returning from his morning run, slowing to a curious pace as he passes by to get into the apartment building. The van doors are wide open, revealing a few larger boxes and a long, black couch, but there’s no one around. 

He knows this area is safe, that there’s very little chance of someone making off with any of the boxes–and no chance of someone getting away with the couch–but he’s a worrier at heart. So, he hovers near the entrance, pretending to be occupied on his phone while keeping an eye on the van through the large glass windows of the building.  

His breath hitches in his throat the second you step into the lobby. You look positively exhausted, dressed in an oversized sweatshirt and leggings with stray pieces of your tied-up hair sticking to your sweaty forehead. Deep bags run under your eyes as you blink away sleep and what Kyle suspects is remnants of a New Year’s well-spent. Despite your tired appearance, there’s a wide smile spread across your face that has his heart skipping a beat as you head out to the van and start pulling out another box. 

The box could be heavy, Kyle thinks, watching you slide it across the floor of the van. It would be rude not to offer help. 

He gets two steps toward the door when someone rushes past him, and a man hurries to the van to lift the box from your hands. You stick your tongue out at him and lean over the box to give him a quick kiss before you disappear into the van again. Kyle decides to wait to introduce himself and, with one last look at your grinning face, turns to head back to his flat.

February

He doesn’t see you again for a month. 

It’s not that he didn’t want to properly introduce himself, he just never had the chance. It seemed the two of you were operating on different schedules, only catching small glimpses of each other like ships passing in the night. 

He has one week of leave left, and Kyle intends to make every second worth it. He spends the day outside, enjoying the fresh air and treating himself to his favorite takeout. He’s reluctant to return to his flat, but the moment he steps onto his floor he can’t seem to remember why. 

All of his thoughts go straight to you, and the way you’re standing outside of your door looking like something straight out of his dreams. 

Not that he would ever admit to dreaming of you, of course.

You’re all dressed up, more beautiful than anyone Kyle has ever seen. Hair done and decorated with tiny pearls to match the string of pearls around your neck, makeup flawless right down to the velvet red painted on your lips, he can’t seem to take his eyes off of you. It’s the dress that does him in. All crimson silk as it clings to every curve of your body, a slit in the leg that is so sinfully high. 

You must feel him staring because you turn your head and meet his eyes with shocking quickness. Kyle composes himself, not wanting to be labeled as the creepy neighbor, and gives a wave with a polite, friendly smile. You smile back, almost bashful, as you shift on your feet. 

Say something, he scolds himself, don’t just stare.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks once he’s managed to find his voice. You raise a brow, something like amusement crossing your face. 

“Valentine’s Day?” you laugh softly with a tilt of your head. 

Right. It was the 14th, wasn’t it? It’d been so long since he’d celebrated–or had someone to celebrate with–Kyle had stopped thinking about the holiday. 

“Fun plans, then?” he says, nodding to your dress and trying his hardest not to stare at the way your pearl necklace dips into the deep neckline. 

You shrug, and there’s a quick, nervous glance back to your door, “Not sure, yet. It’s supposed to be a surprise.”

Your smile falls just a bit before you overcompensate and replace it with an even bigger one, but Kyle–too observant for his own good–sees right through you.

“Not a fan of surprises?” Kyle asks before he can stop himself. 

“I–”

Your door opens, and Kyle notices the way you jump at the noise. He keeps the smile on his face, but he can feel his jaw tensing as your boyfriend steps out in his crisp black suit and red tie. He ignores Kyle altogether, sliding a hand around your waist and pressing a kiss to your cheek. The two of you exchange quiet words before he begins to guide you toward the lift. 

You glance over your shoulder, giving Kyle a quick smile. You turn away before he has time to smile back, and Kyle resigns himself to a night alone. 

April

He’s gone for a month, but he thinks about you every day. 

He tells himself it’s curiosity, that there’s nothing wrong with wanting to get to know the new person living next to him. It’s all purely platonic. 

He knows he’s lying. 

When he finally returns home, after a draining month of blood and dry sand, he finds himself hoping to see you.

He doesn’t, not for a few days anyway. You don’t appear until he’s coming back from his morning run. He’s walking into the lobby, too busy looking at his phone, just as you’re walking out, too focused on the drink in your hand. 

You collide with him, falling into a tangle of limbs and hot coffee. There’s a flurry of apologies from both ends, only worsening when Kyle notices the coffee stain on your cream sweater. You shrug it off, telling him you weren’t going anywhere important anyway, but the guilt is still there. 

He knows he should make it up to you, so he does the only thing he can think of.

He offers to bring you up to his place and take one of his sweaters while he cleans yours.

Your face drops into an expression of shock, and worry courses through him, but you shake yourself out of your daze and, surprisingly, you agree. 

He tries to ignore the hammering of his heart as he leads you up to his flat. You don’t seem bothered, perhaps a little too trusting, following him inside without comment. 

The first thing you do is compliment his home, and Kyle feels shyness creeping up his spine. He points you to his bedroom, telling you to pick anything you want while he waits in the kitchen. He makes himself a cup of tea, trying to soothe the nerves building up in his chest. 

This isn’t how he expected his day to go, but he’s not complaining. Not when you’re feet away in his bedroom, looking through his closet so you can wear one of his shirts. 

She has a boyfriend, you idiot. Stop it. 

No matter how much he bullies himself, Kyle can’t find it in him to care.

“Military, huh?”

Kyle looks up, ready to give some snarky retort, but he sees you wearing that worn grey sweater with his last name faded across the back and his mind stops working. 

You stare at him expectantly, clearing your throat as you hold out your ruined sweater. “You alright?”

Kyle snaps out of it, taking the sweater with a sheepish smile. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” 

He most certainly is not fine and is quick to distract himself by setting your sweater on the counter as he fills a bowl with warm water from the tap. You take a seat at the counter, watching him mix vinegar and dish-washing detergent together with an adorable curiosity. 

“I had a cousin in the military,” you speak, leaning your elbows on the counter. 

Kyle chuckles, taking a rag and soaking it in the bowl. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “He never had any interesting stories, though.”

Kyle glances up at you, right in time to catch you looking at him with a sly, curious smile on your face.

“I take it you think I do?” he asks, smirk pulling at his lips as he dabs at the coffee stain on your sweater with the damp rag. 

“Do you?” You lean forward slightly, eager interest laced in your voice.

If you were anyone else he would say no, shut down the conversation before it could even begin. But you’re not anyone else, and all it takes is one look at those eyes for him to give in. 

He keeps things vague and harmless, enough to be interesting for you without revealing any important information or going into gory detail, and you hang on to every word with a refreshing fascination. You ask thoughtful questions, laugh at his cheesy jokes, and listen with an intensity he’s rarely seen, even on base. 

You urge him to continue once he’s done, pressing for more, and he’s all too happy to oblige. 

You spend the entire day with him, moving from the kitchen to the living room once your sweater is coffee-free. You don’t bother changing out of Kyle’s, far too interested in what he’s saying to consider even a few minutes of distraction. 

When the conversation shifts to lighter subjects, neither of you seems to mind. In fact, Kyle offers to make lunch, and you agree with a speed that has both of you laughing.  

You’re so easy to talk to, Kyle finds. He would talk to you forever if you allowed it, and he hopes you feel the same. He thinks you do, judging by the way you ignore your phone every time it chimes in favor of continuing your conversation.

Eventually, the sun begins to sink behind the horizon and your phone starts ringing. You roll your eyes, answering with a calm voice despite the way your shoulders tense. 

The conversation is short, and you hang up with a huff. 

“I should probably get going,” you sigh, offering him an apologetic smile. 

“It’s alright,” Kyle shrugs, an easy smile tugging at his mouth. “It’s not like you don’t live right next door.” 

You excuse yourself to change back into your sweater and bid him goodbye with a sweet smile that almost has him begging for you to stay. 

He finds his sweater folded up on the end of his bed, and his heart aches at the lingering scent of your perfume.

August

In the following months, you and Kyle become close friends.

Almost as close as he and Soap, which is saying something.

When he has to leave again, he lets you know, and you surprise him with a care package of homemade cookies and a letter the day before he leaves. You say it’s from you and your boyfriend, but you both know it isn’t; the man has actively ignored Kyle despite your best efforts to introduce them. 

Soap eats most of the cookies, but Kyle doesn’t mind, too enamored with your letter. Your letter is as cute as you are, well wishes for him to come home safe, and carrying the soft scent of your perfume. He reads it almost every night, and Soap has no problem making fun of him for it. 

“Some friend, ye got there,” Soap laughs. “Sure that’s all it is?”

Kyle knows what he should say. 

She’s seeing someone else. We’re just friends.

But Soap gives him that knowing look, and Kyle knows he can’t continue to lie to himself. 

It’s not like you’re happy with him. He’s heard you and your boyfriend fighting through the walls–voices raised, but not quite yelling–and he sees the irritation that causes you to tense when he calls or texts. You don’t smile the same when you’re with him, not like the happy carefree grin you give Kyle.

When the mission is finally finished, and Kyle is granted permission to go home, he’s made up his mind. He’s going to tell you how he feels, and let you decide where to go from there. 

Or that was the plan until he knocks on your door and you answer with red eyes, obviously swollen from crying. 

You don’t give him a chance to ask what’s wrong, throwing yourself into his arms as you sob into his chest. He guides you into your entryway, closing the door behind him with his boot. He calms and soothes you, cooing soft words and light kisses of comfort into your hair as he runs his hands up and down your back. 

He lets you cry as long as you need to, and it takes almost an hour for you to calm down enough to tell him what’s happened.

You had come home from work two days ago to find your boyfriend with another woman in your bed. He used the excuse that you had Kyle, so it was only fair that he got to get some for himself too. You had screamed and yelled and raged, throwing him out that same day as he spewed obscenities at you.

The crying starts again, and Kyle is quick to calm you, assuring you that everything’s going to be alright. 

“Didn’t need him anyway,” he huffs.

“Yeah, fuck him,” you pout, and Kyle agrees wholeheartedly.

The wallowing takes its toll on you, cries shifting to a long yawn as your eyes begin to droop. You lean your head on his shoulder, body sagging against the solid weight of him. Kyle urges you to get some sleep, offering to take the couch if you need him there. 

“No,” you mumble. “I can’t sleep here. Not in that bed.”

If he were a better man, he’d suggest the couch while he slept on the floor. 

Instead, he leads you next door, straight to his bed, where he helps tuck you in. Your eyes shut the moment your head hits the pillow, and something tugs at his heat when you subconsciously curl into his blankets. 

He turns to leave and let you have your much-needed rest, but the moment he does, your hand reaches out and wraps around his. You blink at him, eyes wide and sad, and whisper into the room, “Stay.”

And in that moment, Kyle knows he’ll never be able to deny you anything.

December

Kyle insists on taking time for yourself and letting you properly heal before jumping right into things with him. 

He’s frustratingly right, and you appreciate his concern for you, but that doesn’t change how much you feel for him. 

Your now ex-boyfriend had been right to an extent; you certainly felt things for Kyle you hadn’t felt for him in a long time. Of course, you never acted on those feelings–unlike him–staying close to Kyle while keeping things platonic. 

You’d seen it coming for a while, if you were honest with yourself. The new place was a temporary fix, a flimsy band-aid slapped over an ever-growing crack in the glass of an aquarium. You knew you deserved better than his dependency and weaponized incompetence.

You knew the flood was imminent, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.  

But now he’s gone, and while you know you need time to recover, it’s hard to concentrate when Kyle hands you a key to his flat and tells you you’re welcome anytime. 

You try to tell him you’re fine, that the ending of your relationship had been more like a weight lifting from your shoulders, but he insists you take at least two weeks and one therapy visit before making your decision.

You oblige, and you have to admit he knows what he’s talking about. When the two weeks are up, you tell him you need more time, ignoring the smug grin on his face. He doesn’t say it, doesn’t taunt you with an I told you so, but you can see it in his eyes. He does tell you he’s proud of you, and you ride the high that gives you all the way to your next therapist visit. 

Kyle leaves in the last week of August, letting you spend his last night with him in his bed. He doesn’t make a move on you, simply holding you close while murmuring impossible promises of safety and success to your sleeping form. 

It’s agony waiting for him to return, never knowing what could be happening to him while you’re safe and sound in the comfort of his home. The space is good for you, though. It gives you time to process things, to really talk through your emotions and concerns with your wonderfully patient therapist. 

You’ve barely been in your own home in the past few months, the anxiety and betrayal that stalks the halls too much for you to handle, and she helps you realize that you need to make some changes. 

So, when Kyle returns at the end of November, he finds you in his kitchen, dancing along to a song on your phone as you cook something that smells positively delicious. 

He’s content to watch you, welcoming the sight of you after a long and tedious mission.

It’s something he could get used to coming home to. 

When you finally notice him, it only takes a second for the realization to hit you before you’re leaping into his arms with an excited cheer. Kyle wastes no time, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as he can, welcoming your familiar warmth and scent. He tries to lean forward to tuck his face into your neck, but you stop him, placing your hands on his jaw.

He stares at you curiously, watching your eyes dip down to his mouth before you pull him forward to close the gap. A year’s worth of swallowed emotions pour into the kiss, and when you pull away, Kyle chases after you to kiss you again. 

You spend the rest of the night attached to one another. Kyle “helps” you cook, keeping his hands on your hips as he peppers smiling kisses and gentle nips down your neck. You push him away with sweet giggles, but he always comes back seconds later. 

When dinner’s done and eaten, he pulls you to the couch into his lap, so he can continue smothering you in kisses. You meet him kiss for kiss, unable to get enough of him. It takes nearly an hour before you’re able to separate yourself from him to give him your news. 

“I’m not renewing my lease,” you murmur against his kiss-swollen lips, a shy glance up to look him in his beautiful, brown eyes. “Figured I should look for a new place that isn’t littered with memories of that bastard.” 

Kyle hums thoughtfully, trailing kisses along your cheek. “Plenty of room here.”

You click your tongue, laying a hand on his cheek to turn his face to look directly at you. “Kyle–”

“It’s not like that’s not where this was going anyway, right?” He gives you another chaste kiss and a cheeky smile. “You already have a key. Might as well–”

“Make it official?” you laugh. 

“Exactly.” 

You let out a long, exaggerated sigh with a dramatic roll of your eyes. “Fine, you’ve managed to convince me–”

You don’t get to finish, as Kyle cups your jaw and pulls you into another kiss.

January

After a long night of celebrating and congratulations from his teammates, Kyle’s girlfriend officially moves in the day after New Year’s.

You offered to take first watch—he notes that you’re like Ghost in that regard, you can’t calm down after a highly intense situation, so you gotta do what you gotta do, right? But the way you’re so.. jumpy, you keep jolting and looking at Kyle every time he shifts, making a slight noise?—that’s concerning. He’s used to Ghost’s incredible alertness, the way he doesn’t like his back faced to the door of the rooms he enters, Kyle is used to when Ghost sits in the far corner so he can see every inch of the room—but he was terrified when you began to do it, too. You’ve always been vigilant, sure, but you’re.. Something is very wrong.

Kyle watches from his spot on the ragged, torn couch that had to be taken from the curb in a nearby neighborhood. His own rifle is propped up against the couch, his pistol resting on the coffee table in front of himself. He watches the way your eyes flicker across the skyline, the puffy eyebags you have almost seem like they’re worsening by the moment. Kyle is also exhausted—you two have been traveling from safehouse to safehouse for about a week, trying to meet up with the rest of the task force.. With no support, of course.

He calls your name, and he makes a mental note of how your finger twitches closer to the trigger than before. “You need to rest.” He grunts out, pushing himself off of the couch. Kyle turns and grabs his rifle, holding the hefty weapon to his chest as he naturally copies your perfectly practiced pose. He looks up and looks at you—and you haven’t moved a muscle. “Hey, y’hear me?” Kyle voice is laced with concern as he takes his steps towards you, and he makes the mistake of tapping your shoulder—because suddenly he’s facing the silencer of your semi-automatic rifle. Cold panic shoots through his veins and his gut, his muscles going rigid as if he’s a deer in headlights. His eyes search for yours, locking eyes; and you’re out of it. He knew something was wrong.

“Oi,” Kyle speaks with the softest tone he can manage with a gun nearly pressing into the bridge of his nose. “Oi, it’s me. Gaz, mate. It’s Kyle.” Your eyes search his face desperately, and he’s silently begging for you to speak. The tension in his stomach is twisting and turning, threatening to snap—you show no signs of any recognization of him, someone who you have trusted for years by this point, someone who was the one to get your guts inside of your abdomen after an ambush, the one who held your face together after the attack—

Kyle does things before he thinks about it sometimes, and it seems to happen a lot more often with you than anyone else, so he’s silently cursing himself out when he slowly raises a hand to your cheek—his heart pounding against his rib cage, like it’s screeching to escape and run away. He has a rifle pressing against his nose, nearly right between his eyes, and what does he do? Kyle holds your covered cheek, his gloved hand cradling it just like how he did when he found you. Your eyebrow muscles punch inwards for a moment, your eyelids fluttering from the touch.

He watches the way your eyes scan his face, the way you’re trying to decipher whether he’s friend or foe—and he sees it when you know it’s him. Your eyes widen every so slightly and your rifle trembles in your grasp, lowering it and you flip the safety back on. “Gaz, I..” You croak for a moment, taking a small step back. Kyle let’s out a breath he didn’t he was holding, along with all of that tension holding up in body. He reaches for you again as you pinch the bridge of your nose, one of his hands swiftly taking the rifle from you, the other gently cradling your cheek again. “Shh, it’s alright,” He murmurs, his stomach tightening with anxiety. Your eyes fall closed for a moment as Kyle lets your rifle drop to the ground next to where both of you stand.

“It’s alright.” Kyle repeats, his other hand coming up to cradle your other cheek. You ever so slightly flinch in his touch, but you don’t pull away. Your hands come up to cover his own, a choked noise leaving your throat. “Breathe, sweetheart. Breathe.” His lips are next to your ear now, voice dripping like honey into your eardrums, trickling down your spine with a warmth only he’s been able to provide for you. You can borderline feel his heat from beneath his gloves, seeping into your skin from on top of your mask, too. It grounds you enough for you to take a wonderfully oxygen filled breath.

“There y’go, yeah..” Kyle praises you softly, the air from between his lips brushing against your ear and causing you get goosebumps. You inhale once again, slower and deeper—and you get the comforting scent of Kyle, mixed in with the sweat and dirt. Nonetheless, it’s something you find extreme comfort in. As Kyle brings you down from your panicked feelings, he’s swaying you ever so slightly. After you let out a soft shuddering breath, he pulls away from your ear. “Let me see you,” He whispers, causing your eyes to shoot open, scanning his face with panic. You begin to shake your head but his hands remain in place. Kyle’s hands don’t move to remove your mask, as he’s always been good with your boundaries—but his eyes are pleading you.

“Please.” You lock eye contact with him as you debate this; you haven’t showed your face willingly since you were in the hospital, right? You began to cover your face as soon as you could without medical repercussions. You keep scanning his eyes, his muscles in his face, and then it hits you—Kyle doesn’t beg you of anything—the last time he saw your face, was when it was split in two, when he was holding your face in place. You know the attack fucked with him, too. Your barracks were next to his, and after the attack, you were hyper-vigilant. You woke up from every noise, and every night—you heard him stumble out of his room, always at night. Panicked.

You take a slow, deep breath—and you nod. You close your eyes, trying to give yourself some comfort. You feel his fingers hook into the soft material of your mask, and he pulls it down to under your chin. You don’t open your eyes just yet, but you can’t help the small flinch when you feel his gloved thumb trace part of your pink scar that’s deep in your lip. Your heart is hammering in your throat as his finger continues to slowly follow the scar’s path, from your bottom lip trailing to your nose, rearing a gory right, a deeper part of the scar scaling through your right cheek, and taking a harsh upwards turn, just narrowly missing your eye, but cutting deep into your eyebrow.

"y'look like you just went swimming."

you slam the front door behind you, dropping your bag on the floor unceremoniously as you glare daggers at your roommate. kyle is lounging on the sofa, hot cup of tea in hand, sending you an amused look after tearing his eyes from the television.

"there wasn't any rain in the forecast today," you grumble in response, kicking off your sopping wet boots. you can see kyle set his mug on the table and rise from his spot, casually strolling into the small kitchen you shared. you figure he's going to grab a snack for himself and ignore him before trudging to your room to change clothes.

when you emerge again, in dry clothes and with a slightly better attitude, you're immediately greeted by your designated mug sitting on the countertop, filled nearly to the brim with steaming tea. you glance over and see kyle standing at another counter, busying himself with building a small plate of snacks, quietly humming a random showtune under his breath.

you carefully pick up the cup and take a sip, a comfortable warmth flowing through you, chasing away the bone-deep cold that you couldn't seem to shake even after arriving home. your eyes squeeze close briefly as you revel in it, and you miss the way he glances at you with a smile on his lips.

"figured you could use a little pick-me-up," kyle says, catching your attention. he brushes past you gently, carrying the plate to the coffee table and setting it down. "c'mon, you're probably still freezing." he adds, patting the spot next to him after sitting on the couch again.

"sometimes i forget how sweet you are." you shake your head and settle in next to him, carefully lifting your cup as he tosses a blanket over your legs.

he turns whatever show he was watching back on - some history documentary, you realize - and munches on one of the cookies from the plate, quietly relaxing next to you. you, meanwhile, are sipping on your tea, split between paying attention the show and watching him from the corner of your eye.

moments like this were truly rare for you two, despite your living situation. you came home at the end of every day, but for kyle, that wasn't a guarantee. he'd be gone for weeks, sometimes months, at a time, leaving you to care for your flat until he returned. you've never said it aloud, but you've grown to dread him leaving. the place felt lonely without him, like there was something important missing.

the way he reassures you before leaving and the check-in texts you receive daily while he's gone makes you think he knows already, despite you never saying a word to him about your feelings. he's attentive to a fault - you wouldn't be surprised if he knows you just as well as you know yourself.

"you okay?" his voice interrupts your train of thought suddenly. you jolt, almost spilling your tea, and hastily set it down on the table before turning to him. kyle's gaze is already on you, and your eyes quickly dart anywhere but his face as a warmth slowly creeps up the back of your neck.

"yeah, of course." you wave him off, pulling the blanket closer around yourself. "just chilly, is all. i'm already starting to feel better."

he hums, and you can still sense his gaze on you when he goes quiet. you desperately avoid eye contract, electing to stare at the television whilst not comprehending a single thing on the screen. anything to convince him that you're not having an internal war over whether you like him as a roommate or as something more.

a minute passes, and you think he's dropped it. until his voice, dropped to a near whisper, suddenly speaks right next to your ear.

"do i make you nervous?"

you jump, again, and whip your head around to look at him. kyle's leaned in close, a kind yet nervous smile on his lips, his arm swung over the back cushion to face you properly.

you quirk a brow at him. "nervous?" you ask, gaze finally flicking up to meet his. "no, not at all. why?"

he shrugs his shoulders and chuckles, visibly relaxing at your reply. "i don't know, i just– i'm not here often, i guess. didn't know if i was overstepping or something." he waves his free hand as he talks, trying to find the right words.

"kyle, you're probably the person i feel the safest around." you remark, scooting just a bit closer to him to emphasize your point. well, and to steal some of the heat radiating off him.

"i get that you feel safe, but–" he drops his hand to his side and sighs. "maybe i'm misunderstanding, but you looked like you felt off. just wanted to check in."

tell him, your brain shouts at you, seeing the opportunity. he already knows, all you'll be doing is giving him the reassurance that he always gives to you. the worst thing he can say is no; you'll lose your best friend and have to find a new place to live if he rejects you. that isn't a terrible risk, right?

except, it is. you worry the inside of your cheek and leave the comment hanging in the air for far too long. just as kyle opens his mouth to say something, you interrupt him.

"i don't like when you leave for work," you start, hands fidgeting in your lap. "the apartment feels empty without you– i feel empty without you. i was thinking about that and how much i'll miss stuff like this when you leave again."

for a moment, he just stares at you. it doesn't help with the nerves at all, and you mentally squirm under his scrutiny. your discomfort seems to snap him back into the present, though. kyle's face lights up, practically beaming with joy as he finally responds.

"i'm not going anywhere, not right now." he cups your cheek when you attempt to look away, keeping your focus on him with gentle fingers holding your head in place. "i hate leaving you. if i could be in two places at once, i'd be here around the clock. seeing your smile fall every time i walk out the door hurts like nothing else."

you stifle a small laugh and place your palm over his. "kyle, you've been shot. pretty sure that hurts worse than seeing me sad."

he purses his lips, thinking, before making a noise of disagreement. "ah, think i'd rather take a bullet than see you cry." he counters with a pensive nod, sending you into a fit of bemused giggles.

when you manage to compose yourself, mouth split in a wide grin, you meet his gaze again. kyle's mirroring your expression, though his attention is very clearly elsewhere. his eyes narrow, head dipping ever so slightly as his eyes flit between your own and your lips. it's a subtle gesture, a quiet way of asking for something without pushing you in any particular direction. your tongue darts out to wet your lips, an action that he watches with great interest, and you take in a calming breath before making your next move.

you lean forward, hands finding purchase on his shoulders, and press a kiss to his barely-parted lips. he hesitates for a moment, taken aback, but the reluctance is short-lived as he responds in kind, his hand sliding from your cheek to wrap around the nape of your neck. he pulls you in closer as his unoccupied arm slides off the back cushion, snaking around your waist.

the kiss was saccharine sweet from the start, but as you both pour every pent-up emotion you've suppressed into it, it almost becomes too much.

keyword: almost. it's not enough to make you want to stop.

kyle pulls back just enough to talk a few seconds later, resting his forehead against yours. "that, uh... you have no idea how long i've been dreaming about this." he mutters, chuckling.

"dreamed about anything else?" you ask, lips ghosting over his. he leans in to the featherlight touch, chasing it, forcing you to tilt back with an amused huff. he groans under his breath and straightens his back, giving your words some thought.

"yeah, loads of stuff. about you, though?" he pauses, clicking his tongue as he recalls the aforementioned dreams. "not sure if you're ready to hear those yet. most of 'em are probably best saved until after a proper date."

"there's going to be a date, then?" you ask, draping your arms over his shoulders.

with a lighthearted roll of his eyes, kyle nods. "'course there will. several dates, if you'll have me long enough." he presses a lingering kiss to your lips, muffling your pleased hum.

your reply is a mere whisper fanning against his skin. "i'll have you as long as you're around. i'm already yours."

You feel this way, because like Kyle, you didn’t grow up in a place where knocking on doors for candy was a predominant tradition. Halloween was celebrated, surely, but dressing up as little ghouls and running around, screaming ‘smell my feet’ to your neighbors was just… not a thing when you were a child. 

Times have changed though, since you were young. Customs have floated across the oceans. They have melted into new traditions, new practices that took over schools and playground chatter. 

“I wan’ ta be a ghost!” Oliver’s little face beams up at you as he clutches your hand, skipping beside your body with boundless energy, crisp brown leaves crunching beneath his heels. 

“A ghost?!” you gasp, fake fear making him shriek with giggles. “That’s too scary!”

“Naw it’s not!” it’s a playful protest, and you when you turn the corner, he forgets all about the allure of trick or treating for something infinitely better. 

The sight of his dad standing on the sidewalk in front of the house. His dad, who he hasn’t seen in nearly three weeks, waiting for him. For you. 

He takes off into a sprint.

He’s only four, but fast, and you stay on his heels as he flings himself into the arms of his father. 

“DADDY!”

“Don’t you look the part.” Kyle murmurs, heat creeping up your neck into your cheeks when his hands graze your waist. He ducks under the brim of the black, pointed witch hat you managed to find last minute, and presses his lips against yours. You savor him, soaking in everything, the smell of his skin, the remnant flavor of sweetened peppermint on his tongue, the heat of his body pressed to yours. 

Everything you’ve been missing. 

Everything you’ve ever needed. 

“Do you like it?” you croon, and his hands lift the edge of your shirt, just enough so that his palm lays flat against you, kneading against your hip. 

“It’s… bewitching?” He tries the word before the crack of a smile forms, a breathy chuckle, amusement at himself blooming across his face. 

He stuns you. Still. Even after five years. Even after being married, having his child, being separated across continents for too many too long stretches of time. 

“I think-“ you’re about to tell him that you’re thinking about after trick or treating, when Oli will be asleep, when the house will be quiet and dark, all of the candy given away, the candles blown out. When his body will be flush with yours in bed, and you’ll push and pull one another into a daze of pleasure. 

He’s been home for a week, but the longing, the wanting never stops. It only builds, desperate to drink up as much of him as possible, eager to hang on to everything he gives you before he goes again. 

“I’m ready!” Oliver’s shout interrupts you, chiming over some camp Halloween music crackling in the background, finally ready for his grand entrance even though you got him ready over a half hour ago, and Kyle huffs a laugh into your neck before you both pivot to where your son stands on top of the stairs, clad in his very fancy, brand new Buzz Lightyear costume. 

“What's this?” A perfectly packaged Buzz Lightyear costume sits on the kitchen table, and Kyle rubs the back of his neck. 

“He ah- didn’t want to be a ghost anymore.” 

“What?” The dog barks from the backyard, pulling a glance from you to where Oliver plays with her, where they chase each other around in circles in the dusk lit grass.  

“And I couldn’t tell him no…” Your husband tries to explain sheepishly, and you bite your lip to keep from laughing. 

“Yeah, you’re not really good at that.” His hand envelopes yours, lips pressing to your knuckles. “That’s alright though.” You know he feels guilty. He feels the weight of his absence, feels the pain every time he comes, or goes. 

You try to hold it for him. The sadness. The remorse. The struggle. Try to put the flames out, when they grow too high, when it’s too much for him to bear. After all, Oliver was a decision the two of you made, together.

Sometimes you succeed in lessening this weight that he carries.

Sometimes you do not. 

“Okay, hold still!” you hurry backwards, lining them up in the frame on the front step, flanked by the poorly carved jack o lanterns, the jagged teeth and uneven eyes glinting at you from where the LED lights flicker inside their hollowed-out guts. 

Oliver grins, looking between you and his dad, who crouches beside him, holding him close in an embrace. They have their arms around one another, and they're so happy, so sweet, that you have you hurry up and blink your tears away before Kyle’s super senses catch on. 

You click a million frames of the same photo, just in case, selecting the second one to send off in a group message. 

>Buzz and his favorite Sergeant go trick or treating!  >Soap: I thought I was his favorite Sergeant?  >Price: Enjoy, make sure you get some of the good candy for yourselves!  >You: Of course, and we will! Soap, send pics of Bee in her costume and the fam!  

The response comes fast, a picture, a selfie in an elevator. Soap’s got a half full pillowcase in one hand, and the phone in his other, their partner standing behind him, her fingers folded over his waist, face beaming and bright as she smiles up at the camera. Ghost looms next to her with a little girl curled up against his chest in a homemade bumblebee costume. 

Kyle barks out a laugh, and types out a quick reply. 

>Kyle: Who made that costume? I know it wasn’t you, Soap. >Ghost: It definitely wasn’t. 

“Muuum!” It’s an impatient whine, and you slide your phone away, handing him his plastic pumpkin. 

“Alright, rules.” Kyle begins, the tone of his voice serious enough to jog Oli’s attention immediately. “Stay with us at times. No running too far ahead. Mum or I should be able to see you, yeah?” Oli nods agreeably. “No crossing the street without a grown up. And say thank you at the door.” 

“But wot if they give me apples?” 

“Say smell my feet.” Kyle deadpans and Oliver’s eyes go wide, while you smack your husband’s bicep lightly. 

“No! You still say thank you. Buzz Lightyear likes apples, you know.” Oli deflates a bit, and Kyle laughs, pulling him in for a hug. The little boy melts, still content to just be cuddled and held by his dad, even though he tells everyone he’s a ‘big boy now’. You try to memorize the sight, something to think back on in a few weeks when your bed is empty again, and there’s one less setting at the dinner table. 

“What are we waiting for?” Kyle pats Oliver on the back, and then the three of you take off down the street under the orange glow of All Hallows Eve. 

“He’s cleaning up well.” Kyle muses. Oliver runs down the sidewalk, pointing at his orange globe with pure excitement. 

“Mmmm.” You hum your agreement, pulling your jacket a little tighter. It’s gotten cooler since the sun went down, and the crisp fall air nips at your skin.  “Cold, love?” A warm arm goes around your shoulders and then tucks you in tight, close enough that your face can nestle into his clavicle. “I’ll warm you up later.” He murmurs and you roll your eyes. 

“You’re so cheeky sometimes, you know that?” 

“I do.” He’s solemn when he says it, but his eyes twinkle, mischievous streak simmering just beneath the surface of his enchanting gaze. 

“No question where he gets it from.” Kyle’s fingers touch your temple and then swipe down, glancing across your cheekbone before he’s cupping your face fully, tilting your mouth up to his for a dizzying kiss. 

“You’re not so well behaved yourself.” He chides between the slide of your lips, and you smirk into it, nipping at him when he deepens the kiss. Your heart glows in your chest, warm, happy, sated, and you melt into him, content to be swallowed in the bliss of his touch, his love- 

Oliver screams. 

Everything happens at once. 

Oliver screams, and you both recognize it immediately. You gasp, moving to turn away but you’re too slow, far too slow compared to Kyle. You feel the strength of his body, his muscles turned to action in your grip, and then nothing, save for his absence. 

He’s already gone. 

He’s already over the fence, and up the little yard of the house where you son stands with tears streaming down his cheeks. 

There’s a bowl of candy on chair next to him, and as you get closer, you notice that it has one of those animatron hands in it, the ones that snap forward and grab someone unsuspecting when they reach for a treat. 

Oh. Your body sags with relief. Your heart slows to a slightly elevated pace. 

“You’re alright, shhh. I’m here. Dad’s here.” Kyle has Oliver in a hug, and he rocks him side to side, rubbing his back and whispering soothingly. “Just had a scare, is all.” Your son’s crying relaxes, and he sniffles, keeping his face pressed into Kyle’s chest, hands clutching at him. When Kyle moves to stand, he lets out a frightened cry, and your husband is quick to comfort him, shushing in his ear as he holds him tight. “I’m right here.” He coos, rising with the boy in his arms, looking at you over his head. 

“I think that’s enough for tonight then.” You whisper, leaning forward to peer at Oliver’s sleepy and tearful face. It’s late, well past his bedtime, and he’s already hit every house on the block, filling his little jack o lantern to brim. “Let’s go home?” Kyle nods his agreement. 

Your fingers intertwine with his during the walk home. He holds you, and his son, the entire way, until the front door is swinging open and the two of you are lowering Oliver into bed, tucking him in carefully and kissing him goodnight. Kyle strokes a gentle touch across his cheek, and you volunteer to do the clean-up downstairs so he can linger there, sitting by his son’s bed, watching over his sleeping form. 

When you’re done, and the lights have been turned off, the jack o lanterns no longer flickering in the night, the street nearly quiet, Kyle pulls you into your bedroom.

“Want to leave the hat on?” He raises a brow, and you smother a giggle before pulling the pointy hat off your head with a flourish.

“Trick or treat?” He steals the question from your lips with his, pulling you downwards, burying you between his body and the sheets. 

"Not too many," he hedged, though the look he shot you was playful. "Tried a lot of different cuisines, but this market isn't somewhere I go often."

"Only for special occasions then?" You tugged gently at his hand to indicate you wanted to investigate a food stall. 

"Something like that." The affection in his voice was clear as he followed you up to the stall. 

You beat him to paying, grinning victoriously, and only laughed a little at his playful pout as the two of you waited for your food. 

"This is a really nice market," you murmured, tucking close to his side to be somewhat out of the way of foot traffic. "I'll definitely come here again." 

"Good." He smiled down at you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders to keep you close. "I'm glad." 

An odd sound caught your attention. It was still far away, kind of faint, but getting louder. You frowned, tipping your head to try to hear better. Next to you, Kyle went very still, shoulders pulling back. 

Screaming. People were screaming. 

Your heart stopped in your chest as the screaming got louder and closer. In the space of moments, the market turned to chaos. People were running, yelling, calling to each other. Someone shoved another person out of their way, sending at least two people sprawling. 

"This way!" Kyle tugged your arm, pulling you back away from the crowds. You gasped, heart pounding, hands shaking a little. 

But you followed Kyle to the very side of the market, avoiding the crushing press of humanity as the market turned into a stampede. 

"Hold on, love." Kyle tugged you closer, not looking back at you, busy scanning the street. "Stay with me, okay? I'll take care of you."

"What's going on?" You couldn't force your voice louder than a whisper. 

Kyle didn't answer, busy scanning the street again, then looking around. You'd never seen him like this before - focused, tense, mind working fast. This was not your sweet boyfriend, but a military man. 

One of the best, you were reminded as he pulled you between buildings, restless gaze finding gaps and spots for the two of you to slip through. 

You nearly ran into his back when he stopped, shoulders tense. You peeked around him, curious why you'd stopped. 

Two people stood at the end of the street, blood-soaked and swaying slightly. One of them took a lurching step forward, her other leg dragging at an unnatural angle. You gasped at the sight of torn skin, blood still slowly seeping from her arm. 

"Back up," Kyle murmured to you, voice hard. One hand started to push you back, though he remained facing forward. "Now." 

You backed up and then turned, searching for another exit. The street was quieter now, most of the people having run off ahead. A few people still lay in the street, one unmoving, the others slowly dragging themselves up. 

Kyle grabbed your wrist, grip firm enough that it just didn't hurt, and started moving. You kept up with him, glancing back only once, to see the woman fall on the person still laying in the street. You looked away quickly. 

"What's happening?" You asked Kyle, scared, throat thick. 

"I don't know," Kyle admitted, voice hard. "But I'll keep you safe, okay love? Stay with me." 

You swallowed hard, not daring to look back again. 

Neither of you spoke for long minutes, and Kyle didn't look back at you. He just kept walking, tense and silent. 

Finally, though, he pulled you aside into a building. You had no idea where you were now, but you knew it was quiet. Eerily so. 

The city should never be this quiet. 

Kyle pulled out his phone, dialing one-handed, his other hand still firmly holding you. You turned, looking out the window in time to see a group of four people run past the building. But you couldn't see much else. 

"Captain," Kyle said, and you startled. "What the hell is going on, sir?" 

You turned back to him, frowning, watching his expression as he talked to his captain. He blinked once before he nodded, gaze darting to you and away. 

"Rog," he agreed finally. "Fast as we can." He paused a moment, listening, and finally cracked a tiny smile. "You too, sir." He hung up, tucking his phone away again and taking a deep breath. 

You almost wanted to ask, to push. But you didn't. You waited, watching him, trying to push your own fear down. 

"Right," he said finally, holding your gaze. "I need you to stay close to me, and stay quiet. Okay? Can you do that for me?"

You nodded rapidly. "Okay," you whispered. "Where are we going?" 

"Gonna meet up with my team," he said, pulling you over to the staircase. "This is my building, we'll grab a few supplies here, but then we need to move."

"Okay." You swallowed hard, following him up the stairs. 

You kind of hated that the first time you were coming here was like this. 

You waited just inside the door as Kyle grabbed a duffel bag, piling in supplies. You definitely saw a gun go in there. 

"Here." Kyle handed you a pack pack. Nothing too heavy, you noticed with mixed feelings. "Got it?"

"Yeah," you murmured. 

"Good." He slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and took your hand again. "Let's go." 

You followed wordlessly, adjusting your backpack. Kyle moved fast, and you almost had trouble keeping up. 

Outside was no less scary than before. You could still hear screaming - it sounded like the whole damn city was screaming now, terror and pain ringing along every street. You could smell smoke now, though you couldn't tell where it originated. 

But you stayed quiet, keeping as close to Kyle as you could. A group ran past going the other direction but Kyle didn't slow, barely even glanced at anyone else. 

You had no idea where you were or where you were going. You just had to trust that Kyle knew. 

You hoped that Kyle knew. 

He stopped and backed up a few steps, making you back up too. Wordlessly, he pointed another direction. 

He did this four more times over the next half hour, though he never said a word. It wasn't until the last time that you finally saw why. 

Two people ran put of the street ahead of you where Kyle had been about to turn, and he stopped. A third was slower, limping, yelling for the others to wait. 

Someone grabbed the third person, bite marks on the arm you could see. You took a step forward and Kyle grabbed you, hauling you back. 

"Don't look," he hissed, too late. 

The bloodied person bit the other, clamping down on the shoulder. You could see the tension in the jaw. 

Your shocked sound was covered by the screaming of the person bitten. 

"Move," Kyle hissed, physically hauling you along until your brain came back online. You stumbled but started moving on your own, breath hitching. 

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Kyle hushed you gently. 

"You're doing amazing, love," he murmured, keeping you at his side now. "Just hang on for me, please." 

"O-okay." You swallowed hard. You could manage. 

Kyle finally slowed once you were out of the busiest part of the city. The buildings were shorter, more residential. Some people were clearly still home - you could see curtains move every so often, could hear the muffled sounds of life. 

It just seemed so… normal. Startlingly so after seeing everything earlier. 

Everything, your brain oh so helpfully reminded you, that looked an awful lot like zombies. 

"We need a car," Kyle told you softly, glancing at you. "Gonna see if a safe house near here has one." 

"Okay." You breathed in deep. "How far?" The sky was already changing colors with the sunset. Away from the worst of the action, your fatigue was finally making itself known. 

"Not far, a few more blocks." Kyle finally paused on a corner, cupping your face in his hands. "You alright?"

Your next breath out was shaky. "I'll make it," you said instead, looking away from him. You couldn't hold his gaze, not knowing you were slowing him down. 

He breathed out slowly and nodded. "Okay. C'mon, not far now." 

The two of you walked in silence the rest of the way. Kyle had you wait just outside the door as he picked the lock (you'd had no idea he knew how to do that) and ran inside. 

You watched the street, frowning. It was so… quiet. It was actually alarming after the chaos of earlier. You kept expecting the screaming to start any second. 

From this distance, you could see the smoke rising from the city. Sirens wailed as they passed, irregular and heart wrenching. 

How many people had died already? How many people were infected? 

How far had this spread?

A hand landed on your shoulder and you nearly screamed and jumped out of your skin. Kyle was quick to hush you, his free hand covering your mouth. 

"Easy, love. Just me." Kyle pressed close to you, ducking his head a little to catch your gaze. "Okay?"

You nodded shakily, closing your eyes briefly. You were an absolute wreck right now and Kyle was utterly unflappable. "I'm sorry," you whispered when he released you. 

"None of that," he murmured. "Not your fault. This is scary, I know. You're doing amazing, you really are." 

You shook your head but didn't object again, knowing it was pointless. 

"Come on," Kyle murmured. "Into the car, I've got the keys." 

Your hands shook as you let yourself into the car, putting the backpack by your feet. You couldn't stop shaking. 

"Get some rest," Kyle murmured. "We've got a long drive to meet the others." 

"Okay." You leaned back slowly, swallowing hard, fighting back tears. You felt so useless. You hated it. Hated all of this. 

“Really sure I can’t drive you up to your boyfriend’s house?”

Trust your father to make things more complicated than it needs to be. You know what his true intentions were and you weren’t about to bite—yet. You shared a knowing look with the man that was not just your father (step-father, but it was beside the point anymore) but was also your Captain. So much was riding out on his offer and you weren’t about to deal with the mess that would come after.

“I’ll be fine, Dad.” You reassured hugging him hoping it was enough to distract him. “I’ll call you when I get there, I promise.”

With a sigh, his arms wrapped around you in his resignation for the topic. You truly didn’t know until when you could keep this charade up with him. Especially with the man he was hunting down so close to the both of you. Maybe it was time to finally come clean and maybe it wouldn’t be as hard as you think it would be,

“Maybe bring him in for the New Year? I’m sure your Mum would love to have him over.”

You rolled your eyes realizing your father wasn’t relenting on this topic just yet.

“When I’m sure you’re not gonna threaten him—or kill him, I’ll think about bringing him to meet you and Mum.” You gave him the option instead.

“Fine.” He muttered finally pulling away from you. “Keep safe and if you change your mind, I’m one call away, I’m sure your Mum and brother and sister would love to have you for Christmas.”

You sighed.

“Maybe next year, Dad. Please bring the gifts I’ve sent to them with you, okay?”

You heard a knock at the door and the sight of one Kyle Garrick had interrupted the little moment you had with your father. You shared a knowing look with the man and knew his reason for coming to your father’s office. It’s time for the both of you to head out.

What you father didn’t know and hopefully the rest of the people in the base, was the small fact that the boyfriend your father and both Ghost and Soap were more than willing to hunt down was within arm’s reach. The cheeky bastard even played the part so well in having his own ideas of beating the living shit out of himself with the rest of the team. Oh if only they knew.

“Ready to go, Nyx?” Gaz inquired.

You noticed your father’s brow raising in question.

“Gaz lives nearby my boyfriend, Dad.” You explained so easily. “Thought I’d save gas and drive with him to my boyfriend’s place.”

“Alright.” He nodded before his attention slowly turned towards your secret boyfriend. “You know what to do for me, Sergeant?”

“Yes, Sir.” Gaz answered so easily.

“No, Gaz. You will do no such thing.” You snapped turning your attention to your father. “Don’t drag Gaz into this mess.” You muttered making your way towards Gaz.

“Send the coordinate to me when you can.” Your father continued but the smile on his face was enough of an indication that he wasn’t serious about it anymore than he really was.

“Dad!”

“Have safe drive you two. Call me when you get there, understood?”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Take care of my daughter, Gaz.”

“Yes Sir.”

Walking out of your Father’s office, silence had enveloped the two of you as you walked further away. When you were certain the distance was good enough, you finally held onto your boyfriend’s hand, how easy it was for him to hold onto your own in a firm grip.

“You think we should finally tell your father about us?” He inquired turning his gaze towards you for a moment before his eyes turn back in front of him as you two continued walking.

“I always knew this day would come.” You groaned rubbing your temples with your free hand. “Think you’ll be ready to deal with my Dad?” You inquired.

“More than I already do? I think I am.” He snorts. “If it means not having to lie to everyone’s face and we could be less—secretive and I think the reward would be better for everyone.”

He was right.

You know your father had this unprecedented rule in the base that so many other base have enforced with an iron grip. Relationships within the base were allowed to a degree, for as long as no one would let it hinder with their jobs or missions. It was a small little change that had so much impact for the entire team. Ghost and Soap were also few of the people that made the most out of it with their own significant others working in with the Medic Team.

But amongst the leniency that Captain John Price had decreed, there was an open secret that every single personnel was informed off, some even say that it was one of the first rules given to the new recruits when they arrive. No one is to date his daughter.

“After the Holiday?” You offered hoping it would be enough time to prepare for the inevitable chaos that would happen after the holidays.

“Enough time to enjoy the last days of my life, I think?” He teased.

“Kyle.” You warned, already worried for his safety now.

“Everything is going to be alright. We can ask Nikolai for help if we ever need it.” He continued earning a light nudge out of you.

One mission that had you, Gaz, and your father, it was somehow prophesied by one Nikolai that you and sweet Gaz would have cute babies together just to get a rise from your father. But that somehow, you end up getting together with the Sergeant just a few months after and you wouldn’t trade it for the world.

Eventually, with your bags gathered and the two of you now shoving everything you have onto the truck it was time for the couple of hour long drive to the Garrick Household for Christmas.

“You think they’d like me?” You inquired leaning against the door of his red Opel Corsa car he got with his first paycheck.

“They’ve been pleading to meet you for months now since they learned about you. I doubt anyone would hate you.” Gaz reassured cupping your checks.

You took a moment to check your surroundings for anyone that could possibly recognize you before you wrapped your arms around your boyfriend. His own arms pulled you right into his chest.

“Even if I’m a Military Brat?” You asked, knowing it was the preconceived notion everyone had on you when they found out about your association with the Captain. You wouldn’t be surprised if his family would also share the same view the moment they meet you.

“Far from it. Mum and Dad are already planning our wedding and how many kids we would have. So I doubt they think so lowly of you.”

You laughed at the statement. You did envision yourself with Gaz and the little family you could have in the future. But it was all too soon to think of in the present. But it was a certainty that you hope would happen in the future you have together.

“Can I named the babies or do they already have name planned as well?” You asked nuzzling your cheeks against his chest.

“A few name suggestions were thrown, but we can veto some as far as I’m made aware.”

“Kyle Junior would also be a good name for a baby boy?” You continued hands rubbing his back knowingly. “You’d like that don’t you?”

“We’re not playing this game in the middle of the parking lot, Love.” He groaned.

“Inside your car would seem a better setting then?” You egged him on.

“Nyx.” He warned, hands falling to the curves of your ass.

“I’m joking.” You giggled pulling him in for a quick kiss before finally letting go.

You tensed as you looked out into the base, the sight of Ghost and Soap gaping at the sight of the two of you.

“Let’s go.” You muttered opening the door immediately giving Gaz a whiplash for the sudden shift in your attitude from a few seconds ago.

“What?” He turned and from the window of the passenger seat of the car, you could see the shock also written on his face as he made beeline to the driver side of the car.

Without another word, Gaz had started the car without turning back or even acknowledging the fact that your secret was now exposed to two of the last people you would have allowed to know about your relationship now.

“We’re fucked.” You muttered under your breath as soon as you heard the familiar ring tone of your phone and the all too family name of your father that was now made aware of the little interaction you had with one Kyle Garrick.

~

“Now I understand why you love her so much.” His mother was quiet for the most part, allowing him and the rest of the members of the Garrick Family and extended family to bring life to the childhood home he had grew up in.

Kyle could only nod, watching you as you continued on with your conversation with his sister and brother-in-law about some TV series that you’re excited to begin watching again while off-duty. It brings so much warmth inside of him to see you like this, so comfortable and in peace in a place that was his own.

All the worries of his family not liking you or the chaos that came with Soap and Ghost finding out about your secret relationship was put in the backburner for the time being. All that was important was the moment where you two were.

A time where he wasn’t out in some isolated country or in knee deep shit looking for enemies alongside you. You both were in a normalcy that doesn’t come often with either of you anymore because of your chosen profession.

“Hey Mum,” Kyle finds himself turning his attention back to his mother. The smile on her face as she caught him looking at you was all the sign he needed to push forward with what he was about to ask. “Think I can cash in on your offer about your wedding ring in the near future?”

Christmas in the Garrick Household was a success and true to Kyle’s words, everyone loved you. It was just like you to be loved by anyone and everyone you would meet. Contrary to your call sign of Nyx, you were a ball of sunshine that constantly lights up the room, only dimming at the most frail state of mind or during missions. You gave him the sunshine he had thought was lost in him throughout the time of blood and gore he had experience in his career.

Who would have ever thought the incident in Piccadilly would not only shape his career, but the future he never thought he was still allowed to have in his life when all was said and done.

“No funny business.” You had teased him the moment you both settled into his childhood bedroom for the night.

“Never said there was.” He teased you right back, pulling you into his bare chest.

The single bed wasn’t really good for either of you to stay in, but it was better than having to sleep in separate rooms for the night. He maneuvered the two of you until you were now resting completely under him. A smile was on your face, eyes a little glazed over from the few drinks you’ve shared with the rest of his family and your skin tinted a few shades of red because of it. But you were still the most beautiful woman he has ever laid eyes on.

“I’m happy.” You spoke plopping your face onto the crook of his neck. Arms wrapped around his chest.

“Meet too.” He admit. He was happy with you in his life, happy that there would come a time in his life that he would want to hang his boots and throw his uniform down the deepest depths of his closet but he would still have you in his life. It was worth being happy about for him.

“I never thought they’d actually like me.” You continued.

“Didn’t I say that a few good too many times throughout the car ride?”

“You did. But still. Actually seeing that they would like me was something I never thought would happen.”

“I can’t see a reason why they won’t like you if I’m being honest.”

“You’re just saying that because you love me.”

“Touché.”

“Now I’m actually excited for you to meet my Mum too.” You pointed out, heading lifting up to meet his own. “My Mum would love you. She already has an idea of you from Dad but genuinely meeting her in person, I know for a fact that she would love you just as much as I do.” You beamed.

“Will she now?” He smiled, surprised by the sudden shift. “And your Dad?”

“It might take a while for him, but I know he’ll come around. He’s just always been like that growing up.” You shrugged.

“How about we head to your place for the New Years?” He inquired.

With his phone shut off and your own turned off after sending both of your parents a quick text of arriving in your boyfriend’s home safely, he thought it would be a better time as any to finally have clean slate and throw the cat out of the bag.

“Really?”

“Better to rip the bandage off now than when we’re back in the base.” He shrugged, he could only imagine the drills he will be thrown in because of this.

“If you’re not up to it, we could wait a little longer.”

“We agreed that we’d do it after the holidays but since the jig is up because of the two bloke, I think it’s a good time as any. Good to also meet your Mum and siblings while we’re at it.”

The smile on your face grew bigger as you slumped right back to him and peppered his face with kisses as you continually thanked him for dealing with you and for anything that your mind could come up with.

But what you didn’t know was the small little box hidden deep inside his bag and the question that he was about to ask from your father when he meets him—after a good beating if he’s lucky enough to come out alive from.

Part Two: Light of My Life