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Price had always been good at waiting.
As a soldier, patience was a skill you learned quickly or not at all. In the field, rushing in could get you killed. So Price waited. He waited in war zones, in briefing rooms, at borders and checkpoints. He could hold his breath through hours of tension, waiting for the exact right moment to strike. And in all the years he’d known Ghost—Simon—he’d learned to wait with him, too.
The attraction had been there for years, creeping in silently between missions, lingering in shared glances across war tables, in the brush of hands during training. But both men were soldiers first and foremost, and neither had made a move. They danced around it instead, the push and pull of their unspoken connection weaving through every conversation, every mission debrief, every shared smoke on cold nights. Price convinced himself it was enough. That he could live with the quiet understanding, even if neither of them dared to cross that invisible line.
But now, pacing the floor of the command center, Price was struggling. This was different. This was Ghost on a solo mission, out of contact for longer than he should have been.
It wasn’t unusual for Ghost to go dark for a bit—he was one of the best, after all—but this time, it felt different. It had been over a week since his last check-in, and Price couldn’t shake the creeping unease that had been gnawing at him since the radio had gone silent.
He should have checked in by now.
Price's jaw clenched as he looked at the map spread out on the table, the lines and dots indicating where Ghost had last been. His fingers tightened around the edge of the desk, knuckles white. He knew he should be staying calm, should trust Ghost’s instincts, but the anxiety had begun creeping up his spine days ago, and now it was clawing at his chest.
He glanced at the clock. Another hour. Another stretch of time that he couldn’t account for Ghost’s safety.
Gaz and Soap had been watching him closely for days now, sharing worried glances when they thought Price wasn’t looking. But he saw it. He felt their concern, the way Soap tried to lighten the mood with banter, the way Gaz dropped small reassurances, even though neither of them could really shake the same anxiety gnawing at them all.
But this was different for Price. It wasn’t just a team member out of contact. It wasn’t just a soldier missing. It was Simon. And Price wasn’t sure how much longer he could wait.
Soap caught Price pacing again. The older man’s steady, calm exterior had finally begun to crack. It was subtle, just in the way his shoulders tensed or how he gripped his radio tighter than necessary. Soap watched from the doorway, exchanging a look with Gaz before stepping into the room.
“Cap…” Soap’s voice was soft, lacking its usual sharpness. “You’ve got to stop torturing yourself like this.”
Price didn’t look up from the map. “I’m not torturing myself, Johnny.”
Soap sighed, running a hand through his hair. “We both know that’s bullshit. You’ve been on edge for days. You need to trust that he’ll be fine.”
Price’s eyes darted to Soap, the sharpness in them flickering, replaced for just a moment by something rawer. “He’s been off comms for two weeks.”
Gaz stepped forward, his tone calm but firm. “He’s Ghost, Price. This is what he does. He’s gone dark before, and he’ll come back like he always does.”
Price didn’t answer right away. He stood there, staring at the map, his fingers tracing over the last known coordinates Ghost had reported. Then he let out a slow breath and straightened.
“I know,” Price said, his voice lower, more measured. “But this feels different.”
Soap stepped closer, his gaze softening. “It’s different because it’s him.”
That hit Price like a punch. He tensed, but Soap wasn’t done.
“You’re not just worried about a soldier, Cap. You’re worried about him. Simon.”
Price's eyes flickered, the name settling between them like a truth they’d all been avoiding.
Gaz, who’d been quieter up to this point, finally stepped forward. “You’ve been dancing around this for years, mate. We’ve all seen it.”
Price stiffened. He didn’t want to admit it, not now, not when Simon was still out there, not when he had no idea if—
“You should see how he looks at you,” Soap whispered, cutting through Price’s internal struggle. “He loves you too.”
Price froze. His heart lurched at the words, something tightening in his chest so sharply that he had to take a breath just to steady himself. He’d always suspected—hoped—that maybe Ghost felt the same, but hearing it said out loud like that, with so much certainty, sent his mind reeling.
“John…” Price’s voice was low, full of warning, but Soap held his gaze.
“You think we’re blind?” Soap pressed gently, his voice full of quiet understanding. “We’ve all seen it for years, Cap. The way you look at him. The way he looks at you.”
Price closed his eyes for a moment, trying to suppress the wave of emotion threatening to swallow him whole. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Not when he’s still out there.”
“It does matter,” Gaz interjected, stepping up beside Soap. “Because you need to do something about it, before it’s too late.”
Price opened his eyes, looking between them. He wanted to argue, to push them away, to say that this wasn’t the time. But the truth of it—the weight of everything he’d been feeling for so long—was too much to deny any longer. Simon was out there, missing, and Price was terrified of what he’d never said. What he might never get the chance to say.
He swallowed hard, pushing down the panic, the fear. “And what if he doesn’t come back?”
Soap’s expression softened even further, his hand coming to rest on Price’s shoulder in a rare show of comfort. “He’ll come back, Cap. He’ll come back for you.”
Ghost returned in the dead of night, bloodied but alive.
Price was the first to see him, stepping out of the shadows like he was nothing more than a ghost himself. The relief hit Price like a sledgehammer, the tightness in his chest loosening in a flood of emotion he could barely contain. But as Ghost came closer, limping slightly, face shadowed with exhaustion, all Price could focus on was the overwhelming need to do something.
“Simon,” Price breathed, stepping forward, his voice low, but full of everything he’d been holding in for weeks.
Ghost’s eyes flicked up to meet his, and for the first time in as long as Price could remember, the tension between them snapped. There was no space for pretending anymore, no room for the careful dance they’d been doing for years.
“You didn’t check in,” Price said, his voice trembling slightly, a mix of anger and relief.
Ghost’s brow furrowed, guilt flickering in his gaze. “Ran into trouble. Didn’t want to—”
“Don’t,” Price interrupted, his voice sharp but cracking at the edges. He stepped closer, so close he could feel the heat radiating off Ghost’s body. “Don’t give me excuses. You were gone for three fucking weeks!”
“I’m fine,” Ghost tried, his voice quiet, but Price wasn’t having it.
“I wasn’t,” Price snapped, the words slipping out before he could stop them.
Ghost froze, his eyes widening just slightly, caught off guard by the sudden intensity in Price’s tone. And then Price did something neither of them had expected.
He reached out, grabbing Ghost’s vest and pulling him in, closing the gap between them with a desperation that had been simmering for far too long. Ghost barely had time to react before Price’s lips were on his, rough and urgent, the kiss full of everything Price hadn’t said—everything he’d been too afraid to admit for years.
Ghost tensed at first, surprised, but then—slowly—he melted into it, his hands coming up to grasp Price’s shoulders, holding him there as if grounding them both. When they finally pulled apart, both of them breathing heavily, Price’s hands stayed fisted in Ghost’s vest, their foreheads resting together.
“I thought I’d lost you,” Price admitted, his voice hoarse, the vulnerability laid bare between them.
Ghost’s hand slipped up to cup the side of Price’s face, his thumb brushing over the rough stubble. “You didn’t,” he whispered. “You won’t.”
Price closed his eyes, the relief crashing over him like a wave, and for the first time in weeks, he felt like he could breathe again.
“I love you, Simon,” Price murmured, the words coming out rough but steady, as if they’d been sitting on the edge of his tongue for years, waiting for the right moment to fall.
Ghost’s fingers tightened slightly, and when Price opened his eyes, he saw the softest, most unguarded look on Simon’s face. The same look he’d been hiding behind for years.
“I love you too,” Ghost whispered, his voice steady, sure, and more open than Price had ever heard it.
And that was all Price needed to hear.