Chapter Text
“Listen up, hatchet man. Set controls for the heart of the land…”
There wasn’t a lot in life that brought you peace the way your favorite band did. The way their music spoke to you, combined with the fact it was just so damn catchy. As you sat in the rec room, the rest of the world seemed to fade into nothing. You were so enveloped in your thoughts and the music you didn’t notice the body that had just flung themselves onto the couch next to you. It wasn’t until the left side of your audio mysteriously disappeared that reality came back to you. Bewildered, you turned to see Soap with a huge grin on his face.
“Whatcha listening to, lass?” he asked, letting go of the loose earbud to let it dangle by the cord. He reached for your phone to see the song name.
“Oh, just Ghost. Nothing special,” you said, turning the screen on so he could see the album art and song title. Soap quirked a brow at that.
“Ya don’t spend enough time listening to him?” he joked. You rolled your eyes.
“No, the band. They got real popular a bit ago when one of their songs went stupid viral on some social media platform. They write a lot about faith, love, mortality, and critique of societal constructs. Thankfully, they haven’t sold out…yet,” you replied. It was an all too common occurrence for bands to get a taste of fame and immediately lose all of their originality. You could only hope they didn’t suffer the same unfortunate fate, as their message and style was a rare find. Soap, ever the nosy bastard, wanted to know more.
“Lemme take a listen,” he said, raising the earbud up, but you gripped his hand.
“Maybe another time,” you said, trying to tear it out of his grasp, but he had a steel grip around it. Twenties was good, but definitely NOT introduce-this-band-to-your-coworker-with-this-song good. Unfortunately, he wasn’t going to give it up without a fight. You tried desperately to stop his hand from going any further, and in response he just kept tugging.
“…Tell ‘em all this is war, and not fighting a war is for suckers…”
You didn’t even have time to pause the music, as your phone had been long abandoned in your pocket as you tried to hold onto the remaining bit of the wiring you had.
“Yer not bein' fair!”
“I don’t have to be, it’s my stuff and I don’t wanna share right now!”
“Ach, come on, just a little listen!”
“Quit tugging on the cord, these are my good earbuds!”
By now the rest of the 141 had wandered in, amused at the sight of the two of you playing tug of war with a single earbud. Ghost pinched the bridge of his nose, meanwhile Gaz was struggling to contain a laugh and Price looked exhausted.
“Captain, tell ‘er to quit being a cunt!” Soap yelled over his shoulder, trying to grab the other earbud.
“I’m not the one whining like a child over not getting to listen to music!” you retorted. Price, lacking the energy or patience to properly step in, gave a half-hearted “Johnny, quit”, which Soap promptly ignored. In his head, being reprimanded would all be worth it if he could just listen to the song for just a little while. Finally, he saw an opportunity to gain the upper hand. He grabbed the connector and pulled, causing your phone to fly out of your pocket. You grabbed it, but it was a second too late. The jack came unplugged, and the music played at full blast.
“…we’ll be taking no shit from no chulas. In the twenties (twenties!), we’ll be grabbing them all by the hoo has!”
Soap cheered, holding the more than likely damaged earbuds over his head like a trophy while you scrambled for your phone to turn it down. Phone in hand, you delivered a swift punch to the gut which really hurt your hand more than it hurt Soap, but it was enough for him to finally loosen his grip. You finally retrieved the earbuds, which were barely hanging on to life.
“Happy now? You got to listen, now fuck off,” you spat, tossing the thoroughly mangled wires at his feet. He looked down, moving to say something before a gloved hand promptly scruffed him.
“MacTavish. Out,” growled Ghost, practically dragging him over the back of the couch like a wet towel. Price followed, a heavy sigh. He did get paid good enough to deal with Soap’s bullshit, but damn did it get tiring after a bit. You bent down, cradling the crumpled wires in your palms. Gaz rounded the couch, fishing in his pockets for a second before producing a singular wireless earbud.
“Do you want to borrow mine for a bit?” he said softly, holding it out. You shook your head.
“I’ll be ok, I guess. Looks like the right one might still have some fight in it still,” you said, tweaking the left one. The wires’ casing was split, copper innards peeking out like a surgery patient.
“Maybe some electrical tape on that one, it’ll be good as new,” he said trying to be positive. You chuckled.
“Maybe if I wanted my left eardrum obliterated,”
“I’m shocked it wasn’t already. You really have your volume up that loud?”
“Keeps the outside sounds out. Plus, makes it so you feel the drums in your chest.”
“Maybe I can listen with you one day? No pressure, it seems to be touchy for you,” he offered. You thought about it.
“That sounds nice.”