Chapter Text
Ghost couldn’t remember the last time he slept more than 3 hours in one night. He was dead on his feet, stumbling through the halls of the base. For some reason, he had been plagued with nightmares worse than usual, one Soap Mactavish being the subject of most. He was going to have a heart attack because of that man one day. He knew he was grossly in love but Ghost didn’t do love. He wasn’t about to put Johnny at risk because of that.
“Ghost.” Price’s voice stirred him from his thoughts. He had walked himself all the way to the common space. Price was standing at the stove, boiling water for some tea. “It’s awfully late, son.” the captain’s voice softened as Ghost collapsed into a nearby chair with a drawn out sigh.
“Price, what do you do when you can’t sleep?” Ghost turned to the man, who stood silently for a moment before answering.
“Well, I have a cup of this tea.” Price showed him the box. It had a bear in a sleeping cap.
“Sleepytime tea?”
“Yup. Having trouble sleeping?” Ghost nodded.
“Can…Can I try a cup of that tea?” Price pulled out a second mug.
“Of course, Simon. I want you to be well rested so I don’t have to pull you, but mostly because I care about you." The bucket hat wearing man emphasized the last three words, handing Simon the mug, a white mug with a German Shepard on it. “It’s peach flavored.” Simon smelled the tea and sighed softly. It reminded him of his mother. “Now drink that up and go to bed, Simon.”
“Alright. Thank you Price.” Ghost’s lack of argument or quip startled the older man.
“Get some rest, son.” Price placed a hand on Simon’s head and grabbed his own mug, before leaving for his quarters. Ghost slowly pulled up his balaclava and took a sip of the steaming tea. It felt like fire running down his throat. It was so hot, but it was comforting nonetheless. He sighed and lifted himself carefully out of the chair shakily. Jesus, he really needed to go to sleep. The mug warm in his hand, he trudged back to his room and unlocked the door with his free hand. The bed was unmade, he had a pile of gear in the corner, and it had never been more inviting to him. He sat the mug on a tea cozy on his nightstand and unlaced his boots slowly, throwing them into the pile. He pulled off everything else, save for his sleep shirt and boxers, and climbed into bed. His mask was still bunched up over his lips, so he took another sip. He felt himself begin to drift as he pulled the sheets closer to his chest before finishing off the rest of the tea. He sat the mug down again with a clunk and turned off the small lamp before falling back into a night filled with nightmares. Not even 2 hours later, he jolted awake in a cold sweat. He swore he could still feel Soap’s blood soaking his hands, his clothes. He sighed softly and stood up to go work at his desk.
“Jesus Christ Ghost, you look like dogshit!” Were the first words spoken to him when he reentered the world the next night for dinner. Gaz looked him up and down before lowering the volume of his voice. “Nightmares again?” He sounded sympathetic, and Ghost nodded. Gaz frowned and looked like he was deep in thought.
“Something wrong Gaz?” His voice sounded just like how he would’ve expected, soft and scratchy from exhaustion and lack of use.
“Just thinking. Have you ever tried listening to an audiobook or music while you try to sleep?” Ghost shook his head. “Let me send you a playlist you could try, does that sound ok?” Ghost nodded slowly and jumped a bit when his phone buzzed. “Man L.t, you really need some sleep, don’t you?” He rested a hand on the masked man’s shoulder, as lightly as possible. “Try that one.”
“Thanks Gaz…” Ghost bit his cheek to stop from yawning. “‘Preciate it a lot.” He nodded softly.
“Get some sleep, Ghost.” Gaz’s voice was gentle.
“I’ll do my best.” Ghost left the room quietly, pulled his earbuds from his pockets, and plugged them into his phone. The playlist was simply titled “Sleep.” and it was linked under Gaz’s Spotify account. He scrolled through it absentmindedly while unlocking his door. The playlist was some soft music that he’d heard Marsh listening to once, Mac DeMarco, Phoebe Bridgers, all that. It surprised him a bit Gaz liked that kind of music, but he shrugged it off and threw on a sleep shirt before collapsing into bed. He put his earbuds in and pressed play as anxiety reared its ugly head. His stomach turned as he tried to focus on the soft acoustic guitar playing in his ears. Eventually, he couldn’t stay awake any longer and was plunged into a restless sleep. He slept in 1 hour increments this time, a total of around 3 hours. He was jostled awake each time with the same dream. He was back in Mexico, back with Roba. He could feel the dirt covering him, seeping into his open wounds and pores. The body next to him was no longer Vernon, but Soap. The corpse would start talking as Simon pawed at the dirt helplessly. “You did this to me, Simon. It’s all your fault. It's all your fault.” It would tell him as blood seeped into the dirt, choking Simon more. He would inevitably wake up at this point, gasping for air weakly. He awoke, breathing heavy as silent cries shook his frame. His hands trembled as he looked at the alarm clock on the nightstand next to him. It read 03:16, and he sighed. Back to paperwork.