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seasons don't fear the reaper
nor do the wind or the sun or the rain
(we can be like they are)
come on, baby (don't fear the reaper)
— tom rhodes; don't fear the reaper
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Finally, there was a change of pace with the new missions. So now, instead of requiring the entire task force to retrieve (useless) intel, only duo or solo missions were up for grabs.
Happy with the change, Gaz grabbed Ghost to join him on a duo mission that required almost nothing. They just needed to observe their target and track their schedule.
To gather target intel and let someone else deal with killing them on a solo mission. Seemed easy enough, even for the couple.
So, when Gaz requested to Price that he and Ghost should go on the next duo mission, the Captain had no valid reason to say no. In reality, he was happy that Ghost had gotten so close to someone.
Even though he wasn't sure what was going on between the two, he had an itching feeling that complicated emotions were involved. If anything, they looked the happiest they've ever been in the service.
For the first time in a long time, a smile on Ghost's face—even underneath the mask—had become the norm, especially around the sergeant.
"Helo leaves in six hours, be ready by then, yeah?" Price said with a smirk on his lips and a lit cigar in his mouth.
"Yes, sir," Gaz nodded. Ghost was next to him—the man just nodded with a new, determined look in his eyes. Never had the masked man been excited to be sent on a duo mission.
Maybe something had changed.
Price had no complaints. He loved seeing his boys happy, so he just smiled as he dismissed them from his office.
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Once settled on top of the hill they were meant to be stationed at for the next 48 hours with scopes ready and notebooks open, Ghost decided that the silence was too boring.
Despite only being about two hours in, Ghost (surprisingly) got restless first.
"What do you call a funny mountain?"
Gaz scoffed. "Oh my god, please no."
"Hill-arious."
"Terrible, L.T. That was terrible," Gaz responded, a quiet chuckle leaving his mouth.
"You laughed though," Ghost quipped.
"Only because it was so damn awful."
"You tell a joke then," Ghost challenged. Gaz fell silent for a moment, thinking of a decent joke. He wasn't one for joke telling, not in the way that Ghost was, but he had a dad joke or two up his sleeve.
"What's an astronaut's favorite part of a computer?"
"I don't know," Ghost shrugged as he looked through the scope of his rifle. Still nothing good. No movement, no sign of life, no nothing.
"The spacebar."
Oh. Ohhh.
Ghost let out a small laugh as the joke finally clicked in his head.
"I have to admit, that was pretty good."
Gaz let out a sarcastic gasp, his hand placed on his heart.
"The Ghost is complimenting my joke. Are you sure you're Ghost? What did you do to my boyfriend?" The man joked. Ghost shoved Gaz's face away with a weak push.
"Oh shut up, you."
"Never. I'm going to tell Soap how I told a better joke than you."
"He will never believe you."
"Oh yes he will," Gaz argued.
"I doubt it."
"You're just salty that I'm right—"
It took one second.
To Ghost, it felt like that single second took a whole lifetime to happen.
First, he and Gaz were laughing and joking—they hadn't really been paying much attention to their target.
They took a glance or two every hour before jotting down in the notebooks that there was 'no movement' but now Ghost knew why.
A glint of light. Ghost noticed it in the corner of his eye. A sniper.
Gaz hadn't noticed fast enough—Ghost didn't warn him quick enough.
The bullet sliced through the air and hit its target dead-on. It hit Gaz and the man cried out in shock, but the pain started quickly after.
"Sergeant!" Ghost cried out.
He aimed his weapon, found the man who had shot his boyfriend, and placed a bullet straight through the man's forehead. He dropped like a deadweight, but Ghost couldn't bask in his accomplishment.
"Sergeant, how copy?!" He desperately asked, getting the man to lay on his back. Ghost hadn't even seen wear the bullet had pierced skin.
Gaz coughed and gasped like a fish out of water.
"...hurts..." Gaz weakly whimpered out.
"I know, I know. You're going to be okay, you hear me?" Ghost felt tears in his eyes, but he didn't let them fall—he refused to let his emotions get the better of him at such a crucial moment.
When Ghost found the bullet wound, he felt instant relief. It hadn't hit anything major—thank god—but it had been pissing an unbelievable amount of blood.
The bullet pierced near his left clavicle, but didn't go all the way through. Though it was deeply embedded in the younger man's skin, it was nothing lethal—just painful.
Fuuuckkk…
And as if his luck couldn't get any worse, he heard more enemies making their way near the couple. They were calling out orders and firing out rounds.
"Can you stand?"
"I think so."
"Good, we need to get moving. There's a safehouse a few clicks north. Can you make it?"
"Yes, sir."
Despite being in a great deal of pain, Gaz was able to stand on his own two feet.
"You take the lead, I've got your six, sergeant."
Now they were moving.
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It may have taken a couple of hours due to the pain of the injury Gaz sustained, but they eventually made it to the safehouse.
Ghost quickly scoped around the area and made sure that they weren't followed before deeming the area safe.
Gaz gave a heavy sigh of relief.
Ghost entered first, Gaz followed behind.
"Take the couch. And take off your gear," Simon ordered the sergeant.
"At least take me out to dinner first, Si," Kyle tried to joke behind a wince.
While Kyle had struggled to follow Simon's orders, the masked man searched for a couple resources.
Thankfully, he had some luck on his side.
He found a (mostly) unused medkit, a couple half-decent blankets, some spare clothes, and some (almost expired) MREs. Almost everything he had hoped to find in an old ass safehouse.
Simon had returned to Kyle—who had finally managed to take off the bulk of his gear—with everything in his hands and a plan on his mind.
He placed his findings on the unused portion of the couch and looked at his partner with a concerned look in his eyes.
"How are you holding up?"
"Not great. Feel a little shaky."
Simon nodded at the new information.
"Exfil is still not going to get here for another 24 hours, so we're stuck here for a while."
Kyle gave an exhausted nod.
"Now, let's look at that wound," Simon said, grabbing the medkit and looking at its contents. A needle and thread, some bandage wrap, cotton pads, and disinfectant.
It wasn't enough to do a proper job, but it would have to make do until Kyle could actually get to medical.
"Lift your shirt."
This time, Kyle didn't have enough energy within him to crack some kind of sexual joke.
Simon grabbed a pair of tweezers.
"The bullet's still in there."
"Fuckkk," Kyle groaned. He prepared himself for the pain he was about to experience—the painful feeling of metal tweezers digging into his open wound while trying to get a hold of a blood-soaked bullet.
Kyle couldn't even bite back the pathetic scream that forcefully left his mouth. Simon felt so damn guilty, but it had to be done.
Afterwards, he cleaned the wound, sewed it shut, and wrapped it up tightly. Though the process caused a lot of discomfort for both parties, at least the worst part was finally over.
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Kyle had been on the verge of falling asleep, and honestly, Simon couldn't blame the man.
They had about 20 more hours until exfil arrived—might as well get some rest.
Simon let Kyle lay down along the couch and placed some of the blankets over his sleepy form. He took off his mask and placed it on the floor behind him.
He placed a delicate kiss on his lover's forehead, who gave a tired smile in response.
Simon tried to get up and prepare the MREs he had found earlier, but Kyle had other plans.
He grabbed the man's wrist and let out a small noise.
"Stay with me," Kyle whined.
Damn those puppy eyes.
"Fine. Scooch over, will ya?"
Kyle let out a happy noise as he gave Simon some space to cuddle up with him. Simon wrapped his arms around the other while Kyle buried his face into his man's shoulder.
Kyle let out a content sigh and Simon smiled brightly to himself. He kissed the top of the, now, sleeping man's head.
God, I love you.
Then, they were both out like a light.