#vitiligo!reader

The looks of shock and horror on their faces was startling, honestly. It was funny watching their military brains trying to rationalize this new information. The shortest man was the first one to break the silence. “Yer WHAT???”

I doubled over laughing. Tears beaded up at the corners of my eyes and my cheeks hurt. Oisín ran over to check on me as I rested my hands on my knees, using them as support. Attempting to contain myself, I stood up only to lean on Simon in laughter at the Scotsman’s confused expression. The two men, one tall with friendly mutton chops the other shorter and dark-skinned, stood back a ways hiding their smiles. Simon stood staring at the bewildered man, exasperated. Quelling my giggles, I wipe the tears from my eyes.

“Ah, Johnny, did we break ye?” I giggle.

He blinked, “How'd you know ma name?”

I can hardly hold back the laughter that wants to come tumbling out of the back of my throat. “We can tell based off yer awful haircut.”

“WHAT!” Johnny yells, while Price and Gaz roared with laughter behind him. Simon had told me all about them. Aside from the classified and gory bits, he'd told me how Gaz was the only one with his head on straight. How Price had practically been born with a lit cigar in his mouth, and all about Johnny's horrific haircut.

Giggling a bit I walk over to him and pull him into a tight hug, “We're so glad to finally meet ye.”

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Soap had been shocked to see Ghost let someone take his mask off, let alone kiss him. Her willingness to laugh hard and throw jabs at him after just meeting him, made his head spin. She was so… bubbly. Especially compared to the hulking curmudgeon she had for a husband. He wondered how they got along well enough to be married. What he hadn't expected was for her to walk over and give him a crushing hug. She'd squeezed him tightly just under the ribs and he felt his spine align in ways it hadn't in years. Johnny was hit with a wave of smells when she'd pulled him in. At first it was nothing but barn smells; hay, feed, manure, and so on. But once he'd gotten past that- it was patchouli, clean linen, and eucalyptus.

As soon as she'd come, she left to go hug his fellow officers. Price had tried to just give her a handshake but she pushed it away with a “Ah, no. We hug ‘round here.” Gaz didn't get by unscathed either; everyone could hear the pop of his lower back when she'd hugged him. Taking a step back she looked over to Ghost. “Simon, would you have the lads set up with a bed? We've got chores to finish before suppers’ made.”

“Alrigh’ don't push y'self, lovie.” Ghost mumbled into her hair as he walked back towards the car.

Leading them back to the house, they opened the trunk of the car and grabbed their things. Ghost brought them up to the concrete porch and unlocked the front door. On the porch was an old rocking chair with a small table set to the side. The front door was solid oak and had brass finishings. There was a cast iron boot jack shaped like a beetle sitting on the floor next to it. Just inside the door was a shoe rack with a few pairs of shoes on it. “Take yer boots off at the door, ya numpties.” Ghost huffs using the boot jack and sets his boots on the rack.

Johnny, Price, and Kyle rush to do the same as the two large terriers try to run in too. Ghost tuts at the dogs, telling them to wipe their feet- which they do, on the coir doormthat at. Kyle laughs at their manners before leading the other two into the house.

The entry way opened into the living room. A green vintage couch sat in the center with a matching wingback chair set to the side. There was a small wicker basket sitting next to the chair, a crochet hook peeking from the lid. The TV sat across from the couch, on top of an antique cherry wood chest of drawers. A glass coffee table was placed between the couch and dresser. Everything in the house was from the 70s at the latest, most of them being from the Edwardian era. Sean and Aoife took up the entire couch just by lying down.

Price smiled seeing all of the old trinkets and touches around the house. The kitchen had a wood stove from the turn of the century, with ceramic burner covers. All of the floors were the original hard wood, clearly well loved and cared for over the years. Every vent had a cast iron cover or brass one that had patinated over time. As they were led up the stairs he noticed the dust corners attached to each step. The whole house seemed to be one large time capsule. Everything was original or replaced as the years went on. The three of them could tell that Y/N truly cared for this house.

“Tha’ door there is the watercloset. If you need towels, that pocket door has ‘em.” Ghost pointed at the door with a push plate above the handle. Going down the hallway, he continues, “The door on the left has one bed, and the one on the righ’ has two of ‘em. I'll leave it to you how ye wanna divvy it.”

Gaz nodded, curly. “What about that one?” He said pointing at a yellow door at the end of the corridor.

The taller man's lip twitched in a grimace. “Don’t... tha’ one's the missus’.” Walking past them he walks to the top of the stairs. “Take your time, and settle in. Supper should be in about an hour.” With that, he walks down the stairs to settle downstairs.

Johnny, Kyle, and Price all look at each other before opening the door with two beds first. Inside were two twin beds set about a metre apart, beautifully made and ready for guests. Both beds had matching duvets with yellow and blue Rococo floral patterns. There were three pillows on each bed that had pillowcases to match the duvet along with a navy blue bed skirt. At the back of the room was a large porthole that had already been opened to let in the fresh air. Across from the beds were two matching walnut armoires, with a small mirror on each. “Christ. That’s…bloody lovely.” Price breathed.

”Did we want to see behind door two?” Gaz chuckled.

“Aye.” Johnny said, reaching for the door across the hall.

Creaking open, the door revealed a full size bed with a beautiful bedspread. This one was clad in all lavender Rococo with deep purple accents. All five of the pillows were dressed in matching pillowcases. Another porthole window sat cracked open to air it out from the back of the room. A mid century armchair was angled to take in the view of the paddocks and farmland behind the house. Near the door stood an antique wardrobe with brass handles facing the window. It was quickly decided that Soap and Gaz would take the twin room, much to the chagrin of their captain.

As the two sergeants unpacked their duffles they began conversing between themselves.

“How long do ye think they’ve been wed?” Johnny said, packing his rolled socks into a drawer.

Kyle shook his head as he refolded the shirts that had been mussed up in the car ride. “Couldn’t say. What I want to know is, how did they afford this house? The place feels like it came from a storybook.”

“Aye.” His hands paused their organizing, resting over the lip of the drawer. “D’ye suppose tha’ this is Ghost’s home from childhood?”

The taller man scrunched his nose, “No, no way. He’d have burned the place to the ground if it was. Also, he’s a Manc anyway.”

Their conversation trailed off as they finished packing the drawers with their belongings. Just in time for Y/N to yell up the stairwell that supper was finished. Walking down the creaking stairs, Johnny looked at the photos hanging on the wall. One was of the couple enjoying sunshine out in the garden, she was wearing a large sunhat mid-laugh with her hands wrist deep in the soil. Her husband’s hand was the only thing in frame as it smudged dirt on her cheek. Another photo captured the couple on their wedding day, standing in front of the Registry Office. The woman stood in a short white dress and matching fascinator hat, grinning so hard that her eyes were barely visible. Her husband stood in an all black suit, one hand on his wife’s lower back and the other in his pocket. He looked… happy.

At the bottom of the stairs, Oisìn stood barking at them and wagging his tail happily. The hairless dog jumped up on Johnny’s shoulder, using his leg as a springboard. “Shite!” Gaz yelped, leaning away from the dog’s face.

“Sorry, Sinny likes to be involved in everything.” Y/N laughed reaching up to take the small dog off his shoulder. “Come along, we got dinner on the table. We hope ye like tacos!”

God, John needed a fucking vacation…

Everything had gone to shit as far as missions went, and they had no secure safe houses to lie low in. Gaz, Ghost, Soap, and himself all sat around a table trying to strategize what their next move was. Friends and foes all seemed to blur together at the moment.

“What we need is a place to lick our wounds.” Gaz sighed, forehead resting against the table.

“Aye.” Johnny groaned, practically sliding off the creaky chair he'd planted himself in.

Price dragged a hand down his face, trying to rack his brain. “I just don’ know where we'd go, lads.”

A pregnant pause hangs in the air between the lot of them. Until Ghost groans, “I got a place.” Everyone's head shoots up to stare at him in shock. “Don' look at me like that. We leave in the mornin’.”

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“I wan’ you all to be on yer best fuckin’ behaviour. No smart comments, no insults, act like yer at yer mum's house. Clear?” Ghost hisses to the others. His back pressed against the driver's door of a large black sedan. The two sergeants in front of him looked at each other before nodding their heads in response. There was a long pause among all four men. “Alrigh’ let's head out then.”

They all piled into the car, slightly nervous about where the lieutenant was taking them. “So, LT where we goin’?” Johnny said, leaning over the shoulder of Ghost's seat. The large man side-eyed the younger man through his skull face plate.

“Can't tell ya. Tha’ defeats th’ purpose of it being secret, Johnny.” He ruffled, eyes returning to the road.

Soap flopped back against the bench seat, “Not even a hint LT?”

Silence was his only response. He looked over to see Price already fast asleep. His hat covered his face but the slow rise and fall of his shoulders was a dead give away. Soap looked over to Gaz but he was enveloped in some documentary he'd downloaded. Bored out of his mind, he looked out the window and watched the world go by. The bustling military base of Fox Lines faded into rolling hills and sleepy towns. Things began to stretch out, more distance being put between the towns and more farmland took its place. Before he knew it the town signs and directories began fading from English into something a bit more… familiar. It wasn't quite Scots nor was it Irish. Welsh, maybe?

“Oi, Ghost. Where tae fuck are we?” Soap yelled as if they weren't in a car.

Price, startled awake, jumped in his seat and bashed his head on the roof of the car. Ghost dropped the cigarette he’d been holding, and it bounced off the car panels and onto the road. Gaz threw his phone before smacking the Scotsman upside the head, “Jesus Christ, Soap. You scared the piss out of me.”

Johnny laughed, “Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his head where Gaz had hit him. “But seriously, LT, where are we?”

Ghost readjusted his mask by the bridge of the nose. “Wales, McTavish.”

Before anyone could ask any questions the car turned onto a quiet two track road. With nothing but farmland and little farmhouses on either side. Ghost drove the car up to the first driveway on the right. The drive was closed off by a gate that said ‘NO TRESPASSING’ and ‘BEWARE OF DOGS’. Unbuckling the seatbelt, he slid out of the car with a “Don't. Move.”

Slamming the door as he stood up, two very large dogs ran to the gate sounding the alarm. The three men in the car watched intently as their lieutenant calmed the guard dogs. Both dogs sat and waited patiently as the large man unlocked the gate. He headed back to the car. The dogs waited by the gate until he got back in the car. As he drove through the gate the dogs ran alongside up to the porch of the farmhouse. Ghost parked the car next to a black pick-up truck that had been caked in mud. Popping out of the car, he turned back to the car and called, “Come on out, lads.” Johnny was the first to get out of the car, he was too amped up to sit much longer. Price shortly followed suit, with Gaz apprehensively following behind. He was none too keen on being bitten by a Giant Schnauzer.

Soap bounded over to Ghost's side, “Wha’ are their names?”

“The Schnauzer is Sean, and the Kerry Blue is Aoife. Hold out your palms but don't touch. They'll come to you.” He murmured before giving the release cue to the dogs.

Sean began sniffing their clothes and shoes while Aoife started with their palms. Both were intent on inspecting every inch before turning back and sitting at their owners' feet. Price whistled lowly, “Those are some impressive skills they've got. Did you train them yourself?”

“No.” Ghost replied and he stepped onto the porch in one stride. Next to the front door was a garage door opener that, when pressed, shut the gate again.

Once the gate shut the large terriers jumped on him, licking his face and knocking Ghost into the wall. “Where is she?” he asked the dogs, they excitedly ran towards the barn barking the whole way.

Ghost signaled for the other men to follow him. They all followed him trying to pepper him with questions all the way up to the barn. He hadn't answered any of them, focusing on trying to find his target. Looking through the barn door everyone stopped short at what was waiting inside.

A woman with a long salt-and-pepper ponytail stood mucking out stalls. She was young, maybe 25, and had lighter patches of skin dappled across her body. Classic rock blared through the barn as she went about her chores. Picking up the wheelbarrow she walked to the back of the barn and out a side door. The men went to take a step inside but she came around the corner wielding a shotgun.

Everyone aside from Ghost reached for their own guns. Glaring down the barrel she spoke in a thick Irish accent, “What're ye all doin’ on me fuckin’ land?”

“I live here.” Ghost replied.

“Oh, really? Then what's the dog's name?”

“Which one?”

“The one on that hay bale there.”

They all looked over to see a very angry, hairless rat terrier growling at them from above.

“Oisín.” he replied.

It was a long, tense moment before she finally put the gun down. “Si? Is that you?”

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I dropped the gun and ran to him, jumping into his arms. He caught me easily and spun us around. “Why have ye not rang us? We would’ve gone down the shops for ye.” Simon set me down but didn’t let go of my waist. “Oh, take tha’ blasted thing off. Ye know I hate tha’ ting.”