#mw11

It was unexpected. You’d put in for a transfer months ago to a different team. Not that you had any qualms with your last one, but there were a few certain people who made you want to put a .45 ACP bullet through their dicks and watch them run around like chickens. But, that can’t happen without repercussions. So you opted for the next best thing which was the transfer.

You expected it to take time. But you didn’t expect to be considered for 141. Even though you had gotten the notice of consideration and the notice said that you’d be having a “test evaluation”. Which included you running under their watch for a short while before they considered you moving there permanently.

You’d moved there on considerably short notice. You closed the car door behind you and walked to the trunk and pulled out your duffle bag and backpack. You closed the trunk door and knocked on the top of it and met the gaze of your driver through the mirror.

She was of average height, long red hair framed her face, half up in a bun letting the rest fall down her back. Few freckles danced across her face and her high cheekbones, slim face, and heavy brows complimented her sharp green eyes.

You gave her a wave and she returned with a small smile and nodded before putting the car into drive and the car rolled away into ignition.

You let out a sigh and turned to look at the containment facility that 141 was holed up in. You held your breath as you walked towards the door with a large lock-pad to the right of the handle. You quietly let out the breath you’d been holding and furled your hand into a fist and banged on the door.

You waited a few moments before looking around and seeing a camera facing you. You looked straight at it, held up your hand and started numbering off a code.

Through the camera, Captain John Price watched you raised your hand and numbered off the code he was given by Laswell. He tried to decipher your expressions from under the shadows that rested over your face. He looked at your bodily loadout, obviously not in full gear, but geared up enough for an emergency.

Price watched you as after you were done numbering off, you banged the door twice. He raised an eyebrow and stood up from leaning over the desk and walked over to the panel on the wall, entering a code and flicking a switch.

You glanced at the lock-pad as it let out a quiet alarm as a clicking sound was heard from the door. Opening before you.

You glanced up at the camera and raised an eyebrow before walking in. Walking through a hallway with no windows or doors except for the heavy duty steel door at the end. You walked up and went to bang your fist on the door but there was a click and the door slid to the side into the wall.

You were met with a man, roughly the same height, gruff eyebrows, friendly mutton chops lined his jaw and above his lips. A shaved soul path under his bottom lip, blue eyes accompanied by bags that resided under them due to the obvious strain put on them through the years.

“Captain John Price.” You said firmly as you reached your hand out for him to shake. His expression was stern.

“Sergeant [Last Name].” He replied just as firmly as he took your hand. You have a firm handshake and he returned it just the same. “It’s good to have you here.” He said as you both took your hands back.

“Good to be here, Captain.”

“Heard quite a few things about you, Sergeant.” He tilted his head slightly to the left to inquire you.

“All good things I hope.” The nape of your neck felt warm. It was a normal response your body gave when you felt anxious or nervous.

“More or less.” He chuckled. “I’ve read every report in your career in the marines. Just know, keep a level head and look after yourself as much as you look after your teammates. And there will be no problems.” He said nonchalantly. “Go find your room, get set up, do whatever, be in your room by 10.” Price said as he waved you off.

“Yes, Captain.” You responded with a nod and readjusted your duffle bag in your hand and walked into the hallway and pressed a button at the door and the door slid closed.

You looked around to try and find the rest of 141’s quarters.

You aren’t proud to say it took you more than 15 minutes to find your own quarters that you’d be staying in for the next four months. Once you found your room, you had begun to set out your clothes for the morning and put your few other pairs in the dresser by the door. It mostly remained empty due to the fact that your backpack was small and in your duffle bag, you had your own guns wrapped in a few other pairs of clothes.

It was risky to have your own guns in your room with you, but it was for safe measure if you had to be out quickly, you could just grab the duffle bag and go.

Later that day you heard a knock on your door. You’d been in the middle of the room, your bare forearms against the ground and your legs in the air. The cool air from the vents ran across your bare, muscled back and around your sides. Few pearls of sweat sat at the creases of the muscles alongside your spine and beaded down towards your neck.

You had been stretching and cracking your back slowly lowering your legs down towards your head. Book clasped in your hands, reading line by line, you called out to the other person on the other side of the door.

“Come in.”

The door slid open and there, a silhouette in your doorway.

“Hello.” You said, not taking your eyes off the page.

“Good afternoon, Sergeant [Last Name].” A raspy, english voice sounded throughout the room. “Or should I call you Dice?” He asked.

“So you’ve heard about that..” You sighed. “Who here hasn’t heard about me?” You asked, still reading the lines on the paper.

“We all read your files. Know basically everything about you.” You heard a rustle of movement. Glancing at his.. whoever’s feet, they were at an angle, meaning whoever was talking to you, was leaning against the door. Probably weren’t gonna leave you alone anytime soon.

‘Get to know the rookie, I guess’

“Just don’t run off ahead, or slack off behind, and everything will run smoothly.” He sighed. You hummed in response, leaning your legs forwards a bit more, hearing a satisfying crack from the small of your spine. You let out a quiet sigh of relief. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Stretching.” You responded.

“An odd way of doing so?”

“Well not everything is a normal way of doing things.” You replied, fixing your body to a straight vertical plank, hearing a pop from your ankles and a pop from your left knee, you lowered your legs down and closed your book before pushing yourself to your feet.

Grabbing a hand towel, you wiped the few beads of cold sweat off your forehead and neck before tossing it to the side and reaching over to your bed and grabbing a [Colour] shirt. You pulled the shirt over your head and situated the shirt on your body before you turned.

You saw the man at the door. He looked a bit taller, maybe by an inch or two, wide shoulders, a white t-shirt contrasted the black balaclava with a printed, but faded skull jaw, above that rested a mask that looked like it was made with leather or some other heavy duty long-lasting material that covered the upper portion of his face.

You saw that his eyes had been on you the entire time and you saw an opportunity. “Like what you see?” You asked with a chuckle.

“Don’t flatter yourself, mate. I was actually looking past you, to the duffle bag stuffed under the bed.” He deadpanned.

“Mhm, okay.” You shrugged, shuffling over and picking up your book off the floor.

“Where are you from? You don’t sound like you’re from anywhere around here?” He asks with a sniff of his nose.

“Canada.” You replied bluntly.

“Heard it's cold over there.”

“Definitely a lot warmer here, that's why the AC is on because it's so damn hot here.” You grumbled.

You heard him chuckle. “No surprise there.”

“So you got my name, can I get yours?” You asked. “Or are you gonna keep up with that ‘I’m too cold, dark, and mysterious for people to understand’ schtick?” You asked, opening up the drawer on the bedside table and tossing the book in and sliding the drawer closed.

He said gruffly. “You can call me Ghost.”

“Ah, so no name, only a callsign. Got it.” You joke.

“You’re one to talk, Dice.” He snickered.

“Don’t start with that shit. I’ve changed.” You said sternly as you quickly turned to glare at him.

“We’ll see.” He muttered as he pushed himself from the doorframe and into the hallway.

“Hoser.” You grumbled under your breath, frustrated.

Ghost leaned against the wall right next to your door and shook his head with a quiet sigh. He had to work with you for the next four months?

Later that night, around 7:30 you had left your room, and walked down the hallway. Trying to remember where the so-called “kitchen” was. Walking around a corner to finally be met with the location you had been searching for, you walked over to what looked like a fridge and opened it. Inside you saw tupperware containers with post-it notes with named scribbled on them.

You quietly chuckled to yourself as you rummaged around and found a few things to make a makeshift sandwich.

As you were making your sandwich you heard footsteps, too many to be one pair, had to be two, maybe even three. You listened for the footsteps and heard them pass the doorway. You listened to them stop and come closer. “So you’re the new guy.” A voice spoke up behind you. Scottish.

“Yeah. This is him, he’s kinda a pipsqueak.” Ghost. ‘Fucker.’ You thought.

You ignored their comments and continued making your sandwich, placing the top piece of bread on and. grabbing it and turning towards them. Walking towards the exit, hoping to pass them.

You walk towards them and you watch as the Scotsman shuffled to the side. But Ghost stayed put, not moving a muscle to let you access the hallway. “Excuse me.” You mumbled quietly.

“You’re not excused.” He replied, complacently.

“I just want to eat in my room in peace.” You sighed.

“C’mon Ghost, let the new guy settle in.” The Scot tried to reason.

“He’s already well settled.” Ghost scoffed.

“What is your problem?” You asked bluntly. “You seem to have a bone to pick with me, so what is it? Spit it out!” You snapped. “You seem to not like me, although I have done literally nothing to you! What is your problem?!”

“There’s the quick hostility that was mentioned in the file. You just proved my point, Dice.” He scoffed, moving to the side.

All this? Over a fucking sentence in your file? That's it? He’s pissing you off to prove a point. You won’t let him have the satisfaction of seeing you pissed.

Those next three months, he made being there absolute hell. During training he’d constantly fire off a few rounds near your feet, no matter what side you were on. During break and mealtime, he seemed to love sitting beside you and constantly picking on you while you ate.

You never seemed to get a break. Even during the middle of the night, he started to show up and get you up for some dumb reason or for no reason at all. It didn’t take him long to notice that once he woke you up, you stayed awake.

You never noticed it until it was getting too out of hand and you ended up staying up for four days straight, and he became harder on you through training and began actually shooting you with the rubber pellets you all were given.

Your body ached constantly due to the fact that he was firing off rounds upon rounds of small rubber bullets into your sides and back and legs.

Keeping up with your physique became a challenge as well, due to all the rubber bullets being launched at you at high speeds, they left bruises in tender spots, thus it restrained you from working out for too long.

Soap, as you learned had kept telling Ghost to ease up on you a bit, you overheard a conversation as they passed through the hallway. Ghost had responded with “If he’s gonna be on this team, he better learn who’s in charge and to take everyone into consideration.” It made your blood boil. But realizing how much he upset you, and how angry you got, you were only proving the documented information in your file.

By the last two weeks of your “test evaluation” you had regretted putting in for a transfer. Having to endure all of the tormenting from Ghost and harping from Price to be better and try more to be better than Ghost had started to feel more like an order rather than encouragement.

All of Ghost’s tormenting really started to irk you. You started to avoid him within the last two weeks. You had ordered in some packages of food and when they came you quickly went out to retrieve them and straight back to your room to avoid Ghost.

Within those few days, you didn’t show up to practice or left your room to eat, there was no need to leave when you had food, and no need to train when you had your own weights. During this time you had begun filling out more paperwork that was sent to you as well as reading another book.

Only when it was quiet, completely quiet, no AC sounds, no sounds from the vents or any noise outside your room. You thought you would be fine and be left alone. But one of the last things you expected was Ghost trying to get into your room.

Although you had used the heavy duty lock, Ghost seemed to quietly bypass it and slid the door open. You had your back turned, sitting at your desk against the wall, scribbling something out on paper, duffle bag at your side.

You never heard him walk towards you. You never heard him at all. But you felt his presence over you when you saw two gloved hands on either side of you, hands pressed against the desk, and Ghost’s body looming above.

You tensed before your hand quickly flew to the duffle bag but he caught your wrist. “Why so quick to conclusions?” He whispered.

You hold your breath. Trying to calculate where his feet are and how quickly you can close a distance to quickly disarm him. Considering he’s one of the best on the 141, you had to act quick.

You went to quickly reach your other hand up and grabbed at the clothes on his shoulder and pulled hard to attempt to knock him off his feet. It didn’t work as he quickly retracted his hand and wrapped his arms around your neck and pulled you from your chair and had you pinned to the ground. “This is the name you live up to?” He asked.

“You took down an entire cartel in Bolivia with only you and your friend. Yet you seemingly can’t even win in a simple fight against me.” He chuckled.

“I’m out of practice.” You grumbled and tried to reach your hands up behind you, but it only resulted in him removing one hand off your neck to retrain your wrists.

“So you take down a cartel, kill your so-called friend in the process, take a break and come here to kill more people who are on your side?”

“It was a fucking accident! I didn’t even kill her! She was being reckless and ran too early! Jesus Christ she died in my arms!” You snapped.

“What about the others?”

“Enemy capture, the enemy fucking framed me for their deaths just by placing the gun in my hands.” You shouted. Anger seeping through your pores. Adrenaline furling in your chest you feel a surge of strength and pull your hands free and reach up and clasp your hands around his head and pull, smashing his masked face into the ground to the left of you and quickly shoving his body off.

You quickly pushed yourself to your feet and glanced down at his body. Ghost was trying to push himself up but the blow to his head was making his vision spin.

You grabbed the back of his scruff and dragged him out of your room and into the hallway. You stepped over him and walked back to your desk and picked up a beige folder off your desk titled “Simon Riley”. You held it up and spoke. “You out of everyone should know about enemy capture, accidental deaths, and framing, Lieutenant Riley.” You said as you tossed the folder down in front of his face.

You walked back inside and closed the door.

“Come find me when you pull your head out of your ass.” He heard you through the door.

The next time there was a knock at your door was a day later, you had your backpack and duffle bag by the door and ready. When you unlocked and slid the door open, there stood Price. “Hey son..” He sighed. “Mind if I come in for a moment?” He asked.

“What do you need, Captain?” You asked, stepping to the side and letting him walk in, you slid the door closed behind him and watched as he sat down in your desk chair and turned towards you.

“I would like to give you a sincere apology, as well as a congratulations.” He sighed. Leaning forwards, resting his elbows on his knees.

“What for?” You asked, crossing your arms, standing across from Price.

“I would like to apologize for Ghost.” He spoke softly. “As well as you deserve an explanation.”

For the next 20 minutes Price explained to you that he had told Ghost to be tougher on you to push you to your limits. He wanted to evaluate your skills and how long you pushed your body until the absolute limit. Considering that your file explained you had taken down a large drug cartel in Bolivia.

Obviously you had been angry, steam fuming from you like someone had just tried to douse a fire with very little water.

Of course, Price understood your anger.

“So those sleepless nights because Ghost was constantly waking me up, him tormenting me, and even turning on full-auto on a rubber pellet gun. It was all an order from you to test my limits?” You seethed.

“Mhm.” He hummed. “But you can continue to be pissed later,” He paused, standing up and pulling a letter out from his back pocket and handing it to you. “This showed up, referencing your transfer.” He explained.

You looked at it before reaching out, taking the letter and opening it.

Your request for transfer has been considered . . . transfer from . . . considered by General Shepard . . . your transfer to 141 . . . accepted . . .

You paused. Letting your hands drop. Looking to Price. “Your transfer has been accepted. But considering the… circumstances… the place here as a 141 member, is open if you want it.” Price sighed, sitting back down and leaning back, crossing his arms. “So, Dice, what will it be?” He asked, a calm look washing over his face like a wave.

“Watch the corner.”

“Got it.”

“Another, two cans down. Take him out.”

“10-4”

With a quick slice of a knife your opponent laid on the ground, the colour of mulled red berry wine seeped from his neck and pooled under him.

“Take a knife at your 3”

Your hand rushed to your knife on your hip, quickly drawing it and blood from your opponent.

“To the crate, pry it open, rewire, and get out of there, Exfil is making way, and will be waiting west from your position.” The English voice spoke before going quiet.

“Sure thing.” You muttered as you scuffled over to the crate, grasping your knife firmly and jamming it between the splinters and prying it open. Finding all kinds of different communication devices and wires. You quickly got to work rewiring and twisting the copper twines together.

A few moments later you were done and were about to close the crate when voices made themselves known. You quietly lifted the cover down and silently walked around the sea cans and weaved in and out, making your way to where Exfil was supposed to be stationed.

You heard shouts and open fire behind you. You quickly dove for cover and pulled out a rifle and turned and stationed your rifle to rest on the top of your cover and shot off round after round. Your enemies covered themselves with other sea cans. You looked around, hearing a helicopter in the distance. You quickly pulled out binoculars and looked up, seeing the familiar black print of the Exfil helicopter.

Obviously your enemies had seen the helicopter and started firing off rounds in an attempt to take down your ride. You took this opportunity to make a run for it. Holstering your rifle to your back with the strap wrapped around your chest, you took off into a sprint.

You started to get closer to where the helicopter was circling. You were weaving in and out of sea cans of all different colours. Some brands you unconsciously recognized, others not. You let your mind slip for only a moment. And it only takes a moment for something to happen in a world of combat you pushed yourself to.

That moment. An enemy seemed to take it. You watched as a woman in full tactical gear unsheathed a knife as she turned the corner and harshly grabbed onto your shoulder and drove the knife between the small gap of your vest and sunk it deep within your side and drove the knife up your side and pulled it from your flesh. Barely any time to react left you wobbling to stay on your feet. Without warning the woman went down.

You looked up and saw a silhouette holding a rifle pointed down towards you up in the helicopter. Your mind clicked into the right field mindset and you quickly pressed a hand to your wound and started trying to get over to the now-landing helicopter.

You feel the muscles in your legs start to give out. Pushing your legs further and your vision starts to spin. Glancing down at your hand, bloodied and your blood staining your vest and shirt. You heard your callsign. It sounded like it was underwater. Were you underwater? Your head felt like it was going to explode.

You slowed down for a moment, your heart pounding in your head with the sounds of gunshots ringing in your ears.

“Dice!” You heard again. Your vision cleared and you looked around, your eyelids feeling heavy. You look forwards and see Gaz standing in the helicopter that's hovering just above the ground, he’s making hand motions to try and get you to come closer. Your legs felt heavy. You blinked harshly before forcing your body to move forwards.

You stumbled forwards and got close enough to try and haul yourself up but didn’t make it too far. You reached your free arm up to try and pull yourself up, your strained muscles wouldn’t let you, but thankfully Gaz holstered his weapon and grabbed your arm and hauled you up.

You let out a groan as you rolled over to your back and held the knife wound. “Gaz, need to stop the bleeding.” You strained.

“Got it.” He said as he rummaged around looking for anything sterile. As he was looking the helicopter pulled up and higher.

“Literally just get anything that would stop the bleeding would be great any time now, Gaz.” You groaned as you lifted your head to try and look at the wound. You let your head fall back down.

Gaz had found a rag and he crouched down and applied pressure to your wound, and he stayed at your side and held your wound with the rag the entire ride back to the safehouse.

Gaz pulled you with him, arm wrapped around your ribs and your free arm over his shoulders, trying to stabilize you from falling over. Both of you hobbled to the door and Gaz pounded on the door and the remaining doors slid open as he walked through. The doors are closing behind you.

Gaz brought you into the common room and set you down on one of the stools and quickly grabbed the small medical kit that was in the drawer of a cabinet off to the side. He rushed over and and started to run the thread through the head of the needle, his hands shaking and unable to thread the needle.

By this time you pulled the bloodied cloth away and saw the blood was coming to a halt, the sticky blood holding the rag to the wound. You gently pried it away as a voice made itself known

“Gaz! You should’ve brought him to the bay, why is he here?” Another English voice had spoken up.

“Sorry L.t. this was closer.” He muttered, still trying to thread the needle with jittery hands.

“Here, give me that, grab peroxide and a cloth.” Ghost ordered as he grabbed the needle and thread from Gaz as he rushed to go grab the things he was told to get. Ghost took his gloves off and threaded the needle quickly. “I’m gonna need you to shed your vest and coat, Dice.” He said sternly.

You groaned as you started to take the vest and layers off, the split skin spiking pain all over your side and down your thigh. You lifted the side of your shirt up and in an instant you felt his cold hands touch your side before feeling the sharp prick in your side. You clenched your eyes shut.

“Atta boy.” He muttered as he held the wound together as he started to stitch up your side. Gaz quickly returned with the bottle of peroxide and cloth. “Gaz, put some peroxide on the cloth and start wiping up the blood that’s running.

You sat there in and out of your inner mindscape. Your skin felt hot, burning under every layer of skin deep into your flesh. You felt your face getting warmer, heat pooling to the creases of your eyes and temples. You closed your eyes and felt your weight shifting constantly.

“Dice, stay still.” Ghost muttered, poking your flesh again with the needle.

“Ghost, his face.” Gaz nudged him. Ghost looked up and saw how red your face was and how you had small beads of sweat pearling at your neck. He reached his hand up and felt your face.

Your brain was jumbled, not understanding the situation. You leaned your warm face into the cold hand of whoever was touching you. Their hand felt like a deep relief against your burning face. You let out a hum of satisfaction at the cold tingle across your face.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He muttered, pulling his hand away quickly, you let out a short-lived whine when his hand left your burning face, but it was soon replaced with a sharp curse.

“Fuck!” You growled, your brain coming to your senses and taking in your environment. Ghost crouched beside you stitching a thread in a particularly painful spot on your skin.

“Hello, I see you’ve come back to the land of the living.” Ghost chuckled.

“Fuck off, you twat” You painfully muttered under your breath.

“Hey there, bud, where’s your Canadian hospitality?” Ghost horribly tried to mimic your Canadian slang. You let out a pained laugh, Gaz snorted. Almost there, just keep him awake. Ghost thought internally. He was trying to keep you from dozing off.

Gaz watched as he put in the finishing stitch and then he backed up for Gaz to clean the wound with the peroxide doused rag. He quickly went to go grab gauze and medical tape and started to patch up over the stitches.

You let out a small hiss as you felt a small singe of pain throughout the wound. “Ghost, you're gonna want to get an ice-pack. He’s burning up and we need to cool him off.” Gaz explained. You watched hazily as Ghost nodded and quickly went to get some ice, your vision became spotty and shifting.

You groaned in pain as Gaz carefully placed his arm around you and under your arm. Gently pulling you from the stool and trying to bring you over to the couch on the opposite side of the common-room.

Gaz carefully lowered you down and moved a pillow, you contested, saying you were fine and just needed a few meds and you’d be fine. Gaz shook his head in disagreement and gently pushed you to lay down by your shoulder. By then Ghost had returned with the ice-packs and placed one on your forehead and behind your neck.

You let out a small hum of relief from the cold sensation against your skin. Your mind going in and out of consciousness.

You don’t remember much after that.

“Sleep well [Y/N].”

You stretched your muscles and stopped when you felt your legs resting on something. You quickly pushed yourself up and glanced towards your feet, seeing Ghost sitting up with your legs in his lap and he had a book in his hands, eyes tracing over the page. You watched as he turned his head slightly to glance at you.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asked. You noticed he had switched out his skull balaclava for a regular plain black one.

“My side hurts like a bitch.” You grumbled, pulling up your shirt to see the gauze patch, splotted with blood. “Oh.” You breathed out.

“Yeah.” Ghost paused. “Knife wound, had to stitch you up.” He explained. “You were out of it and burning up-”

“And from what I’m told,” You heard Soap to the left of you while he cut off Ghost. “You liked Ghost’s cold hands.” He chuckled.

You tensed and felt your face get warm as Ghost pat your leg. “Don’t stress it.” He muttered. “You were in shock.”

“Well now I’m gonna stress it.” You grumbled under your breath as you pulled your shirt back down.

Those embarrassing moments didn’t end there. It didn’t take long for the rest of 141 to hear about it. And even Price was intrigued at a few certain points. Which ended up with more moments of you and Ghost alone together.

You didn’t like how your skin was warm wherever he touched you, no matter how cold his skin was. Your mind was still stuck on how he patted your legs that morning you woke up from being stabbed.

You hated these feelings.

You started to want him around more. Even though every time he was around, he inadvertently reminded you of when he mentally tortured you with no sleep, and the constant pestering as well. You rolled your eyes at the thought of being in the presence of him, yet your heart started to hammer in your chest whenever he was near.

You hated it.

It makes your skin tingle and crawl. The single feeling of his presence drove you up the wall. In which it was constantly pestering you. These feelings of being drawn to the mask-clad brit were invading all of your senses and made your brain fog up like a bathroom with a hot shower going.

In turn, these feelings didn’t subside when you distracted yourself with work or even were out on a mission. It got to the point you couldn’t focus on the mission. You mentally scratched at your neck to make yourself focus.

At this current moment you and Ghost were infiltrating a cartel safehouse. You and Ghost had your guns at the ready as you walked down a hallway. Your mind fuzzy. During this split second of fuzziness. You hadn’t realized Ghost was trying to get your attention. “Dice, are you alright?” He asked quietly. You looked up and saw him slowing down, with his head facing you.

“Sorry L.t. just a bit distracted.” You admitted quietly, looking around the hallway.

“Well we don’t need that, pay attention.” He muttered.

Another few long minutes of silence as you two quietly snuck around, clearing each room. The safehouse seemingly empty. As Ghost was radioing to Price you felt your stomach churn at the weight you suddenly felt on your shoulders. You flexed them out a bit to try and ease the pressure but it didn’t work. You pinched the bridge of your nose and leaned against the wall.

Words echoing in your head. Calling you a coward for not speaking up. The words calling you pathetic for letting a small crush last for this long. Although the words were becoming loud in your mind they immediately dissipated when a light pressure was put on your shoulder.

Your vision snapped up and the grip on your gun tightened. “Easy.” Ghost warned, noticing your sudden edge. “You’re distracted, what’s going on?” He asked.

You blinked a couple times before realizing what he asked. You sighed. “Nothing you should concern yourself with, sir.” You shook your head.

“We aren’t going anywhere until you speak up.” Ghost announced quietly. “Either you grow a pair and speak up, or you can tell it to Price.” Ghost removed his hand from your shoulder and leaned against the wall beside you.

Another moment of silence.

You took a deep breath. “Do you.. want to go out for a drink sometime..? With.. me?” You asked hesitantly. Ghost turned his gaze to you.

“Is that what this is about?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You breathed out quietly.

You could hear Ghost’s soft chuckle. It made you shrink. Did he think you’re dumb? Was he laughing at how pathetic you were? Or how you think you could try and ask your superior out? Did- Your thoughts were cut off by Ghost’s voice. “I’ll make you a deal.” He started.

“And that is?” You asked quietly, waiting for the rejection.

“How about when we go back to base, we get ready and go out for drinks.” He chuckled.

“That’s not really a deal?” You asked.

You looked at him and you could see the smile squinted in his eyes. “But you’re paying.”

You paused for a moment. What?? Did he seriously agree to a date? The moment he finished what he was saying the heavy pressure from your shoulders lifted.