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It's Christmas.
It's supposed to be one of the happiest times of the year. Food, warmth, family time, and presents.
Christmas was very fun with your family and a lot happened, so it was a big contrast from here on base.
Of course you liked spending time with your 141 squad, but if you spent another week with them, especially when Christmas cheer was literally here, you were gonna headbutt them.
However, you got them presents anyway. Soap got a razor kit and appreciated as you noticed he loved his mohawk so much.
Gaz got a case for his missing equipment as he was known for misplacing his things sometimes.
Price got a better hat, since the one he always wears was starting to wear out. It looked like he had dug it up from someone's grave, you'd say. He laughed and took the hat appreciatively.
He watched as you looked around for the tallest man on the squad, holding a medium sized box. Where was he…?
Price frowns. "Looking for Ghost?", he asks. You turn to him, slightly sheepish. "Yeah. He in his room?"
He sighs. "He just might be. He… Christmas isn't exactly a good holiday for him. Never has been.", Price explained, scratching his beard.
You frowned, understanding. You knew Ghost was… standoffish, to say the least. He didn't often show emotions or expressions aside from a sarcastic smile here and there.
You figured he had to have had a rough childhood from the way he talked, or behaved. He never talked about his family much, so it kinda made sense.
Even still, everyone deserves a good Christmas. Even Ghost.
With an appreciative nod, you left to find Ghost's room. Upon approaching the room, you begin to get hesitant and curious. How much has Christmas affected his life? What happened?
Would he even like the gifts you got him…?
It was Ghost. He was blunt, unhesitant. He'd be straight with you and you'd have to do your best not to take it to heart.
But the thought of that made you nervous. As you walked up to his door, you thought about just leaving the present there, doing a little dingdong ditch for him.
But before you could, a rumbled voice came from behind the door. "Come on.", you heard.
You took a deep breath and opened the door. Peeking inside, you could see how minimal his room was. He just had a desk, his bed and a lamp. Very minimal, you thought almost unimpressed.
There he was, laying on his bed wearing nothing but his usual balaclava, a black turtleneck and cargo pants.
How could he sleep in those?
Stepping in, you closed the door and gave him a smile. "Hey, LT." You walked up to him, standing just a few feet away from him.
You see his dark eyes drift to the box in your hands. "What's that?", he asks.
"Uh.. a present? I got everyone else one, and I wanted to get you too. Didn't want you to be left out.", you confessed with a shy smile.
Despite his balaclava covering his whole face aside from his eyes, you could've sworn his eyebrows rose in curiosity.
He let out a sigh through his nose and sat up. "Give it 'ere.", he mumbled. Your smile grew as you handed it to him.
He held the box and patted next to him on his bed, which you happily took the chance to sit.
He looked down at the neatly wrapped box, tempted to even shake it as he looked at you with a curious, but warning look.
"No pranks, promise.", you reassured. The man sighed again and unwrapped the box, finally opening it to see another wrapped present, a smaller box and a pair of tactical gloves.
He took the tactical gloves out first and examined them. They looked like his usual skull ones, but brand-new.
He looked at you, waiting for an explanation. "I figured you were gonna need some soon. You're wearing out the ones you have now, and those will take a while for you to wear out.", you say, and he nods, setting them aside.
He picked up the smaller box and opened it, revealing a nice watch. He didn't wear any jewelry aside from his dog tags.
If you could call them jewelry, that is.
He glanced at you, slightly amused. "This your way of telling me I have no sense of fashion, Sergeant?"
You chuckled. "Maybe."
He shook his head, and put it on his desk. The last present, you were really thoughtful for. It took a while to find all the materials and have someone help you with it.
This one… you really hoped he liked.
He picked up the last present, curious and finally opened it. He paused.
It was a tactical knife, sheathed in a black leather sheath. He pulled the knife out of its covering and his eyes widened a bit.
The base of the knife was made of black steel, while the edge, the blade, was covered in a white permanent coating.
On the side, however, was engraved with a writing that stated: S. Riley
The writing was on both sides. Even the handle had a neat, little skull carved into it.
You bit your lip as you watched him examine it. Did he like it?
He rubbed the cool base of the knife with his thumb, the pad running over his engraved name.
He was almost… speechless. And that didn't happen very often. He set the knife back into its sheath and sat it down on his desk, next to his watch.
He looked at you once more. He was unsure what to do. He wasn't expecting to give anyone any presents, much less receive any.
He wasn't prepared.
You noticed his weariness, his hesitation and uncertainty. Smiling softly, you gave him a hug. "Merry Christmas, Simon."
He stiffened for a moment before wrapping his arms around you. It took some getting used to, but once he found himself getting comfortable, he grew to like the affection.
"Thank you…"
A week after Christmas, the squad was back to work. As Ghost got himself ready, he took his knife with him, and picked up his watch. As his fingers ran over the backside, he felt indistinctive lines carved into it and turned it around to see it engraved in a date.
10.28.XXXX
This... Was the date you two met the first time of your recruitment.
The corners of his lips lifted a bit as he put it on, covering it with his sleeve. He finally put his gloves on, the material instantly warming his usual cold hands.
They weren't enough to make his hands sweaty, but enough to get his blood pumping through them.
He looked around his room once more before leaving