Work Text:
when i was kissing on my baby
and she put her love down soft and sweet
in the low lamp light i was free
heaven and hell were words to me
— hozier; work song
It had been years since they had first met—almost two full years since that quiet day where they had encountered each other in the commons room. Since that time, Gaz and Ghost had grown very close to each other. They bonded quickly and shared conversation freely.
There was something going on beneath the surface of their companionship, but neither party had expanded upon their feelings for one another. Both oblivious yet knowing that what they felt was somewhat mutual.
Ghost had known almost everything about Gaz's homelife—he shared it so freely and happily. Ghost was jealous about how open Gaz was to talking about his family and his childhood and all of his embarrassing moments in high school. He was jealous, but he found it endearing too—hearing the man talk about his life with passion and a smile on his face.
And yet, Gaz had known almost nothing about Ghost. Just his legal name and that he was tall as fuck. He did start to notice the smaller things about the man to make up for the lack of information—like how he avoids certain foods because he doesn't like their texture, or how he eats really fast because he's used to people taking food from him.
All the little things that Gaz would notice were to be pocketed in the back of his mind where there was a little folder about Ghost. All those little facts building up so he could get the general assumption that Ghost's childhood was not the greatest.
Though Ghost would never admit it out loud, his awful childhood still affected him decades later—no matter how badly he tried to cover it up. Gaz was starting to pick up on that.
It wasn't terribly obvious most of the time. It could easily be hidden since the base keeps everyone busy and distracted.
It worked in Ghost's favor a lot of the time.
Until…
Until something on a mission went wrong—wrong enough to reveal to Gaz the unseen side of Ghost… Simon Riley…
Like most stories, the mission was supposed to be a quick grab and go—a quick intel swipe, maybe a few silent kills, and escape back to exfil with no injuries and no complications.
Of course, they are never lucky. Things rarely go their way and today was just a bad day.
There was an ambush and a fire. A building collapsed, the team got separated, and comms were somehow disabled.
There were several casualties—many innocent lives were lost—and many more were injured, including Gaz. Though his injuries were—thankfully—not lethal, they still fucking hurt.
One of which was a bullet wound to his left shoulder, which Soap teased him for after ensuring he was solid.
"We have matching scars now," the scot smiled, as he flexed the arm that was shot back in Las Almas. At least he was looking at the positives of the situation.
Scars were pretty cool, so having matching scars with someone isn't all that bad.
At some point, Gaz had made it to exfil alongside Soap.
They helped each other with their wounds and tended to the other wounded soldiers that had made it as well. They took precautions by counting their supplies in hopes that they would have enough to protect themselves if they were ambushed again.
Thankfully, that never did happen—some lord above decided that the task force had already gone through enough shit for the night, but it never hurt to be careful.
Price was quick to join them. He was bleeding from many places, but made sure to check on his men before anything else.
But Gaz noticed something—well, actually—he noticed the lack of someone.
"Where's Ghost," Gaz asked.
Price looked confused at first, but then he looked around. He, too, noticed that the masked man had not yet joined the rest of the group.
"I thought he was with you," Price admitted.
"Did anyone see him?" Soap asked.
No one had seen the man.
Then, the soft crunching of grass was heard. The footsteps were slow and barely there, yet it produced enough noise to have everyone else on edge.
Everyone either had a weapon on hand, or hid behind someone else that had a weapon on hand.
Price pointed his gun in the area of the noise.
"Make yourself known," he called out. The noise didn't stop, nor did it respond. It continued to stalk closer.
Price's fingers tightened around the trigger.
"I won't ask again," he warned.
The figure slowly became more visible. They were hunched over and clearly injured, but there was a lack of noise.
But, as it slowly approaches, something white is visible. It forms a face—no, a skull. It shapes a white skull.
"Simon," Price sighs out. He does not respond.
"Ghost?" Gaz calls out and slowly walks towards him. He notices that Ghost is trembling and shaky on his feet.
Ghost is unresponsive and his pupils are the size of plates. He's staring at Gaz, but he's not really seeing Gaz. This sparks a concern deep within him, but as the helo arrives and everyone begins to board, he mentions nothing.
Gaz wears a worried expression on his face as he looks at Ghost, who looks like he's no longer on earth and instead buried in an old memory.
Soap, who's sat next to Gaz, glances over at the masked man before looking back at Gaz with a questioning expression.
His face says, "He's not okay—something's wrong…" and Gaz looks back at him with an expression that responds, "I'll find out what's going on."
And he does exactly that.
When the helo finally had its rocky landing on the solid ground and all the soldiers got up on shaky legs to clean themselves before the debriefing, Gaz moved over to sit next to Ghost.
He didn't touch the man, didn't say anything out loud—didn't even speak out loud to the man. They sat in silence for a while.
"You broken, L.T.?" Gaz said, breaking the silence. He got no reply for a while. Then, Ghost shifted in his seat and like his head fell into his own hands, cradling it as he tried to form a sentence.
"...yeah…"
"What's wrong?"
"Got stuck under… under some of the debris from one of the buildings that blew up. Got… got buried underneath it."
Gaz didn't say anything. He waited for the man to continue his story, and continue he did with an unstable voice. The poor man sounded like he was relieving the moment all over again and was keeping back a wave of tears.
"I felt like I was buried again. I couldn't… I couldn't breathe and there was too much pressure on my chest—" he choked back a sob as he sat up straight. He rubbed a hand on his chest, as if there was something trapped beneath it.
"I can't be buried again, Gaz, I can't do it, I can't I can't I can't—" his breathing started to pick up as the tears finally started to fall.
Gaz slowly wrapped his arms around the man's shoulder, giving the other enough time to move away if he needed to. Instead, Ghost melted into Gaz's embrace and let out a shaky exhale as he buried his masked face into the man's neck.
Gaz froze at first. But he very quickly adjusted himself so that their position was less awkward and more comfortable.
Ghost quietly sobbed and Gaz let him.
Soon, Ghost slipped off his mask and kept his face buried in Gaz's neck.
Gaz was, once again, taken aback by this, but said nothing out loud. He just held the man carefully in his arms.
After around 10 minutes, the moment had passed and Ghost had cried himself into exhaustion.
"Ghost…?" Gaz spoke quietly. Ghost hummed in response.
"Can I move your face? Will you let me see you?"
There was silence for a few more moments. Ghost nodded his head and Gaz couldn't help but smile.
He cupped Ghost's face between his hands so delicately that Ghost almost broke down into tears again.
Gaz noticed that Ghost was beautiful. His face was littered with scars that told more stories than words ever could, but he was stunning. They made him tuff-looking, but right at that moment, he was vulnerable with his red, puffy eyes and flushed, freckled cheeks.
Gaz brushed his thumbs to dry the tear tracks and gave the blonde a soft smile.
"How are you feeling now, Ghost?"
"...Simon."
"What?"
"Right now, call me Simon, please…"
Kyle's smile grew bigger and his fangs became visible. Simon felt his heart melt. He looked like a soft vampire in Simon's eyes.
"Okay then, Simon," Kyle tested the name on his tongue. "How are you feelin'?"
"Exhausted," Simon admitted. Kyle nodded in recognition.
"Let's get you cleaned up and to medical, alright?"
Simon didn't even have enough energy to disagree with a visit to medical. He closed his eyes and nodded along to everything Kyle said.
"Good man," Kyle said. He grabbed Simon's mask from him and placed a delicate kiss along the bridge of his crooked nose before slipping the mask over Simon's face once more.
Simon felt his tired brain short-circuit while Kyle couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh.
Yeah… maybe there was something developing between them. Simon didn't completely hate how the other man made him feel. Maybe, just maybe, he could let himself have this one nice thing.