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Gaz was hanging out with the 141 at the club, all of them lightly buzzed. He’d always been quite social, always looking forward to having a good time with his friends. When Soap finally managed to assemble the 141 together for an outing, he was definitely excited to have some fun.
The music was blaring as the lights around him flickered. He went to the dance floor accompanied by Soap as the two basked in the night. It had been too long since they had time for themselves, who could blame him for being so carefree?
After several minutes on the dance floor, Gaz and Soap were approached by a group of privates, hardly comparable to the 141. Soap was on good terms with most of them though, welcoming them to join in. They looked beyond inebriated, which explained their boldness as they began synchronizing their movements. It was a great time.
However, their fun was cut short when the tallest one of the bunch started groping the former’s cap in an attempt to take it off, causing Gaz to swat his hand away angrily. Soap noticed immediately and came to his defense.
“The fuck do you think yer doing, mate?” Soap exclaimed as he stood his ground beside his friend.
“Just admiring the view. Could do without that stupid hat though.” The tall one sneered, a condescending look in his eye.
Gaz’s blood froze at the comment. He faltered slightly, though still attempted to maintain a determined look in his eyes. “Get your hands off me. Anyone ever taught you some manners before?”
The tall one saw through it, though. “Hah! Sorry for making fun of your precious little hat. Don’t know why you go waving it around everywhere, looks stupid as fuck on ya.” The man clearly had too much to drink as he kept on talking. “I mean, d’ya ever take it off? Reckon it smells as shitty as it looks!”
Soap was beyond pissed. “You are out of line, Private. Need I remind ya who yer talkin’ to?”
Luckily for him, the Private seemed to regain some of his senses as he started backing off sheepishly with his crew. “Look man, I was just joking around. No need to get all pissy.”
Gaz only looked forlorn, lacking the energy to continue. Of course, Soap was all too happy to do the talking as he gave the man a dressing down of a lifetime, all the while his friends were staring at the floor in shame.
Despite the fast-paced situation, Gaz found himself frozen, letting the comment get to him deeply. His cap may have been quite standard for most people, but everyone he worked with knew it was Gaz’s signature defining appearance, akin to Ghost’s mask. Ever since he was a child he always struggled with fitting in and earning people’s respect, though luckily his family was always there to fill the gap. When he left for the military, Gaz’s father gave him his prized baseball cap, the Union Jack in its distinguished glory adorning its front. Since that day he had hardly ever taken it off and he began to grow attached to the article of clothing, as silly as it may have sounded to most people. He was always seen with it on, whether it was training rookies or in a tight mission or at a simple get together. He really did love the thing; it defined him and grounded him at the same time.
Having it attacked so callously made him reconsider this, however. Of course, Gaz would normally care less about the comments of a lowly private, but the alcohol was certainly not helping matters. He felt shittier than he had in a long time.
As Soap was tearing the Private a new one, Gaz went back to their booth sadly, though it did not go unnoticed by his team.
“Feeling alright, Garrick?’ Ghost questioned, a concerned look in his eye.
“I’m fine, Ghost. Think I’m gonna pack it up for the night.”
“You sure, Kyle? Did something happen over there?” He pointed at a shouting Soap, who only just noticed Gaz had left his side. Soap jogged over and put his arm on Kyle’s shoulder.
“Hey mate. Sorry about those fucking jackasses. Ripped them a new one, had ‘em scared shitless.” Soap scoffed in their direction. “Ye doin’ okay?
“I’m fine. Really, guys. Just…Think I wore myself out tonight, gonna head home now.” Kyle tried his best to put on a faux smile, though it didn’t really reach his eyes as he shrugged off Soap’s hand. The others looked at him sadly.
“OK, Kyle. Just…Let us know if you need anything, okay?”
“Thanks, Captain. See you boys next time, yeah?” He put on his jacket, and, to the surprise of everyone at the table, gently took off his baseball cap. He left in a hurry, not looking back.
He didn’t get much sleep that night, thoughts of his family and home permeating his mind.
Gaz had been questioned about the hat many times before, the feelings of insecurity were bound to creep up eventually. The 141 had all commented on it before in one way or another, though at the time it never felt like it was out of malice. They were all extremely close with each other, ribbing on friends as most did; although it was a bit of a sore spot for him internally he never commented on it, just wanting to fit in with them. However, he reconsidered their comments and what they truly meant to convey. Perhaps they’d been secretly waiting for him to finally get rid of it themselves. The thought crushed him.
Thus, when he pulled up to the mess hall that morning, he decided to omit his cap for today.
Price was the first to notice, already seated at their table. He tried not to gawk, but he just couldn’t help it.
“Kyle…”
“Hey, Captain.”
Price frowned. “None of that now. You know it’s just Price when we’re off duty.”
Kyle just shrugged as he set his tray down, eating silently and shrugging off Price’s attempts at conversation.
Soap and Ghost pulled up to the mess hall slightly later, as they usually did–Gaz didn’t want to assume but if the intimate noises coming from their rooms at night were any indication, it wasn’t just a coincidence. Their conversation was cut short however as they took their seats and noticed a distinct lack of blue atop Gaz’s head. Ghost’s eyebrows were raised, though Soap only looked with sadness. He must not have told them the details of last night.
“Missing something, Garrick?” Ghost said carefully.
Gaz tried to keep it casual. “Not missing anything, Sir. Just decided to change it up a bit.” He forced a smile that fooled no one.
Soap laid a hand on his shoulder as he whispered. “Hey, are ye sure yer feeling alright? You know those assholes were talking a load of shit, right?”
Gaz rolled his eyes, annoyed with the doting. “Listen, I’m fine. I know you all were getting sick of that thing anyways.”
“Where’d you get an idea like that from?” Ghost shared a look of concern with the group.
“We don’t care how you dress Kyle, whatever makes you happy.”
“You don’t have to lie to me, I’m not a fucking child.” He rose from his seat, his tray of food still relatively full. He’d lost his appetite long ago, anyway. “If you’ll excuse me, I got shit to do.”
The others looked speechless as he essentially jogged away. He knew his outburst was totally uncalled for, but at this point he convinced himself that the others were just trying to appease him. It was difficult for Gaz to trust the words of his team when it had been so hard for him to gain the respect of others and get to where he is now. He sulked in his room as his mind ran with so many thoughts at once.
The rest of the 141 were not faring much better, greatly concerned over their friend.
“The hell was that about? Did something happen?” Ghost pondered.
“No idea son. I’ve never seen him get like this before.” Price looked over at Soap, who seemed the most upset of all. “Something on your mind, Soap? Any ideas?”
Soap sighed. “Well…Yesterday a bunch of privates came up to us on the dance floor. Started causin’ a whole damn scene, tried touchin’ Gaz’s hat but we weren’t havin’ it. They started taking the piss, made fun of it and he just shut down. I’ve never seen him like this before.” Soap sniffled as he recounted the events.
The sadness wafted through the group as they thought back to their interactions with Gaz. All of them had occasionally commented on the hat in the past, though they never wanted to make Gaz feel insecure about it. As they shared their insights and memories with each other, everything seemed to click into place. They thought about Gaz’s more subdued reaction to those kinds of jokes and how they each felt a little insecure about their own quirks of appearance. Ghost, Soap and Price had gotten shit for their mask, mohawk and bucket hat respectively in the past. Price felt especially bad for him, he was the only one who truly understood what it meant to the man and felt an extra layer of guilt knowing he may have contributed to his self-doubt knowing their closeness.
They were all a little upset at themselves, until Soap decided to cut the tension.
“Alright, sitting on our asses isn’t gonna make him feel better. We gotta make things up to him. Need to show him how much we miss that damn cap.”
“Johnny’s right. Never should’ve given him shit for it, he’s never gone at me for my mask.” He looked at Price expectantly, knowing the two were a lot closer together. “Got any ideas, Price?”
Price thought back to his late-night conversations with Gaz, some over a bottle of whiskey he kept on his shelf. He remembered one night when Gaz had jokingly suggested replacing Price’s bucket hat with a matching cap many times, insisting the rookies would hardly notice a difference. While Price would adamantly reject any attempt to replace his beloved hat, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea of him wearing something so plain to match with the man.
The concept didn’t seem so easy to reject anymore. He had the perfect idea for them.
It had been an hour since Gaz left his friends hanging, still mulling over the whole situation. He felt like a jackass still for blowing up at his friends, he knew he had to apologize eventually. However, as he was getting ready to leave, there was knocking at his door.
“Uh–One second!” He shouted. Gaz wasn’t expecting them to approach first, hoping to apologize to each of them individually.
When he opened the door, he was greeted with the 141 standing before his eyes, though to his surprise they were beaming at him. The surprise became genuine mirth as he realized what each of them were wearing.
A blue Union Jack baseball cap sat atop each of their heads. Soap’s stood a little tall over his mohawk, Ghost decided to keep his mask on and Price didn’t even ditch the bucket hat and instead wore the two simultaneously overtop of each other. It was a funny sight.
Hence, Kyle started laughing hysterically as he wrapped them all in an embrace, the others eagerly reciprocating.
“W-What’s the meaning of this?” Gaz asked shakily.
“Decided on a wardrobe change. Head was feeling a bit cold.” Ghost deadpanned, though his eyes showed that he was clearly smirking.
“Was Price’s idea mate! Gotta say, you pull it off best. Look like a numpty with this on.” Soap laughed as he tilted his cap around to show its looseness. “Least I’m only wearing one!” He pat Price’s back for emphasis.
Price chuckled heartily. “Couldn’t ditch ol’ reliable. Think you gotta teach us how to properly wear it though, Gaz.”
Gaz was struck out of his hysterics as he fetched his own cap, the others cheering exaggeratedly as he placed it on his head. They each shared a laugh before proceeding to the commons area.
The four of them were scrounged on the couch as they put on a movie, Gaz overwhelmed with joy. He looked to Price, who only stared back with adoration.
“Soap told us what happened mate. Those guys don’t know what they’re talking about, ya look mighty fine with or without the cap.” Gaz blushed slightly at Price’s comment. “We’re sorry if we ever made ya feel shitty about it. You get shit from anyone else and you come to us, alright?” He pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
Gaz smiled back, tears in his eyes. “Copy that, Price. Thank you.” He leaned deeper into his space, Soap and Ghost smiling at their display of affection, as they continued relaxing in each other’s presence.
Gaz’s cap gained a new meaning that day–one for his family back home and one for his family right here.