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efingart · 2 months

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Just What I Needed - Chapter 25

Word Count: 5043

Frank Woods x CoD Bell

Frank and Mila go on something that looks a lot like a date, but it isn't a date.

The plastic groaned in protest as Mila pressed the speaker closer to her ear. The record store fell away as the synth beat took hold of her. It was unlike any music she had ever heard. She could become lost in it. She was used to holding in her feelings, not giving away much that was on her mind. But the sound inexplicably made her want to move.

But how would anyone dance to this?

Mila’s eyes flicked up to the woman behind the counter. She was the one who had set up the tape player for her to listen. The counter was much higher than the floor, likely so she could quickly spot if anyone was pocketing one of the tiny cassette tapes. But for the most part, the woman looked bored. She flipped through some kind of booklet. Like a magazine, but there was a homemade quality to it—splotched black ink across its neon paper cover. The title hand written in black permanent marker. The woman tossed her head to get her pink-streaked bangs out of her eyes before ducking her head back down to read. The pink-streaked bangs fell back into her face.

Mila felt tension on one side of the headphones, drawing her gaze away from the woman. Frank tugged on one of the speakers, pulling it away and leaning into her, turning the speaker towards his own ear to listen.

“You like this?” He asked. His voice was loud as he tried to talk over the music thrumming in his ear. He listened for another moment before turning the speaker back around.

She pulled the headphones off and let them dangle from her neck.

“Yeah. You said I should pick something happier. Can’t get happier than that.”

Frank’s eyes traveled over her face, then he shrugged and turned to the woman behind the counter.

“This one, too,” He said. She didn’t respond, not even a nod. Still, she popped the tape out of the player, putting it back in its jewel case and adding it to the stack of music Mila had already accumulated.

“Anything else?” Frank asked Mila.

She shook her head and neatly placed the headphones on top of the tape player, then pushed the player towards the woman.

He dug into his back pocket for his wallet. Then, he shifted his attention to something behind the woman.

“One of those, too,” He said, pointing to a box on the wall behind her. In her bored way, she turned to the wall, picked up the box, and held it up to verify that it was what he wanted. He gave her a nod, and she began to ring up the items.

“Come with batteries?” He asked her as he studied the box. She shook her head. He sighed. “Course not.”

Mila watched this exchange with some curiosity. She couldn’t quite read the box, and the product name wasn’t giving anything away—something to do with walking. Frank counted out the bills and change, and the woman bagged their purchases.

“All right, come on,” He said, throwing an arm over her shoulder as he guided her out of the store. “Gotta make another stop.”

He pointed to a camera store across the street. In the wide front window, there was a large cardboard display. As they approached, Mila realized it resembled a camera. But not like one she had ever seen. There was a lens and a viewfinder, but the camera's base was long and flat. The design of it was so clunky she couldn’t understand why anyone would want to carry it around. Someone had cut a large slit across the base, and a flat sheet of cardboard with a photograph on it repeatedly slid in and out of the base.

Maybe it was advertising a new kind of development process?

But as she scanned the display she saw that the large camera was surrounded by boxes of the real thing.

She turned to ask Frank about them when she heard a click and a whirring sound. A man was standing in the shop doorway, one of the strange cameras in his hand.

“Just got the brand new model in today. Come in and take a look.”

Having a business owner so invested in speaking to them was odd. But the camera shop likely got its fair share of tourists, which may have motivated him to be friendlier. He handed her the paper that had come out of the camera.

She stared at it and turned it over—blank white on one side and black on the other. However, something was happening on the front of the paper. A splotch of brownish yellow was slowly developing.

“You’ve never seen an instant film camera before?”

She shook her head and tried to hand the paper back to the man, but he waved her off. “It’s yours, keep it.”

Frank interrupted their exchange and asked the man, “You got any batteries?”

The man led him into the small store. Mila stayed outside, watching the display continue its methodical movements.

After a moment, Frank stepped out again and dropped a pack of batteries into the paper bag.

“How’d it turn out?” He asked her, nodding towards the paper in her hand.

She looked down, and to her surprise, she was now holding a photo of her and Frank looking at the display.

“What-”

“Instant film, don’t ask me how it works. Em’s got one of those. She’s constantly taking pictures,” He said, shaking his head. “I’ve gotta have about a hundred of me holding David for the first time. I’ll show you.”

“Instant film,” She repeated and looked longingly at the display. She’d love to have a camera like that. She had enjoyed taking and developing pictures for the various missions the CIA had sent her on. And with her memory, it would be nice to have some kind of physical evidence of her life besides that old photo Frank had found. Feeling Frank’s eyes on her, she blinked and turned away from the display. The nice thing about Frank is that he never asked too many questions. He seemed to know that if she wanted to talk, she’d talk. He plucked the picture from her hands and tucked it into his front shirt pocket, giving the pocket a little pat.

“For safekeeping,” He said. Then he threw his arm back in a wave, gesturing her to keep it moving. “Come on, I’m hungry.”

“Burger Town?” She joked.

“You know I’ll never say no to that. One of these days, we gotta take you somewhere nice, I guess.”

“Not today,” She said.

He chuckled, “Not today.”

They sat at one of the outdoor tables in the sun. She couldn’t remember the last time she spent so much time in the sun. The bag of food was between them, and she watched him reach into it to pull out a burger. His knuckles were turning red, and a smattering of freckles had appeared on his hands. She hadn’t realized he freckled in the sun, but it made sense with his complexion. It gave her a warm feeling just to know something more about him. Something that wasn’t related to his job or military life.

Frank Woods freckles in the sun.

She cataloged the information away in her mind.

Mila reached into the bag for her burger and placed it on the table before her. Then she carefully peeled the wrapper away, smoothing it out on the table and creating a placemat for herself. She thought she heard Frank let out a soft chuckle, but when she glanced up, his soft gaze was focused behind her as he chewed his burger. Mila picked up her burger and was about to eat when a thought occurred to her.

“What’s that thing you bought? That needed batteries?” She asked, nodding towards the paper bag set next to him on the bench.

He held up a finger and reached for his drink as he chewed. Grasping the drink by the lid, two fingers on either side of the straw, he took a long sip. Then, he set his burger and the drink down and wiped his hands off in his jeans before he opened the bag.

“I figured if you’re gonna have your own music, maybe you don’t want to be tied to the stereo in the living room,” He said. Then, while looking at her pointedly, he added, “You can use the stereo in the living room anytime you want, though.”

When he said that, her eyes moved from the bag next to him to his face. Frank seemed to notice everything. Or maybe he had recognized one of his own habits in her. He knew she was trying to leave the smallest footprint in their apartment. A strategy she employed in the hopes that if he never felt like she was in the way, then her place there was safe. She shifted in her seat, somewhat uncomfortable with the feeling of being so seen by someone else. There was something else, too: comfort.

She ignored it and instead turned her focus back to Frank, who was moving his burger aside so he could place the box in front of him. He pulled out a pocket knife to break open the thick tape, holding the box shut. Then he opened the flap and grabbed hold of what was inside while tipping the box so that gravity would help him ease its contents out.

Inside was a smaller black box surrounded by styrofoam packaging and a small pair of black over-ear headphones. Frank flipped the styrofoam over onto his hand. He tossed the packaging back in the paper bag and dusted off the smaller black box. She could see it was made of heavy plastic. There were buttons on the top. Frank reached back into the paper bag, feeling around momentarily, before producing the pack of batteries. He popped off a panel in the back and put in four batteries. Then he took out one of the cassette tapes, popped its case open, and slipped it into a slot in the front of the box.

He plugged the headphones into the box and handed them to her.

“You can listen anywhere now.”

She put the headphones on. The sound wasn’t as good as in the record store or at the apartment, but it was nice to be able to listen anywhere. She noted he had put in the tape he recommended, Pat Benatar.

You’ll like this one, he had said at the store.

And he was right. She took a bite of her hamburger as she listened. She knew she could definitely enjoy listening while in her room at night. And maybe even between sessions.

“Like it?”

She nodded.

“Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He waved his hand, dismissing her comment.

“You might as well have some music wherever you want it.”

He stopped the tape.

“Thing drains batteries, though, I’ve got more for you, but just know that.”

She nodded again and removed the headphones. Frank gathered everything up and placed it in the bag.

“So what’s next?”

“I have an idea or two.”

Mila tilted her head curiously at him, but he didn’t elaborate.

Frank seemed to have his destination in mind, but occasionally, he would take them one way and have to backtrack. Then, he’d check the street name and head in the opposite direction. The place he was looking for must have been tucked away. Mila didn’t mind so much. It was good to be out and walking in the city. It had been some time since she had just walked around without purpose or hurry. She glanced around at the other people around them. This is what they did. She had yet to conjure up something more mundane from her adult or teenage years. Always running and fighting. Not being able to show her face in her home country meant long strolls in the park were risky. She had vague memories of spending time in what looked like East Berlin. But had the sense she was still traveling by night, working.

“There,” Frank said in a low voice.

He led her down a narrow side street. On the corner was a small building. Garage-style doors had been installed on either side and now, on this pretty day, they were flung up. She could clearly see the entire establishment from front to back.

She stopped.

“It looks like-”

“Yeah,” Frank said. Then he shrugged. “I kinda got the feeling you wanted to look around that place. And I know you like computers.”

He scratched the back of his head, suddenly seeming uncomfortable.

“Well, these are kind of like computers,” He added.

She nodded, and they walked into the arcade. Inside, the sounds, which were tinny and muted on the street, completely filled the space. The room itself was kept dim, lit by the sunlight outside and the glow of the screen on each machine. Every cabinet was painted with brightly colored characters. As she looked at the displays, she realized that these were what the players were supposed to imagine the tiny pixelated characters to be. Again, it was like nothing she had ever experienced before.

Being in the arcade brought back memories of the fake American town, and she wondered if small towns in America really did look like that. Many small towns in the movies she watched looked similar as well. The cinema, Burger Town, and arcade all together around a tiny town square. She knew it would be unlikely she’d ever get to see a place like that. Unlikely, she’d ever leave West Berlin, unless they were shipping her off to some prison to lock her away forever.

Mila pushed the thoughts from her mind and approached a free cabinet. She watched the looping demo of what must have been a car racing along a track that never seemed to end. Several cars whizzed by the player's car until one crashed into it. A computerized grinding sound filled her ears. The screen went black.

“You ever play one of these?” Mila asked Frank.

He shook his head.

“Heard it rots your brain or something,” He joked. “Come on, let’s go get some tokens.”

As they waited in line, he pointed to a game that involved a sloped wooden track with numbered holes at the top.

“Now that’s more my speed. Skee-ball.” When he was met with her blank stare, he clarified, “It’s like bowling. You do know bowling, right?”

She shook her head.

“I’ll show ya.”

Then he turned his attention to the man behind the counter. Frank handed over a few bills to exchange for tokens.

He was spending so much money on her today. She felt uncomfortable unable to contribute. Of course, no one would give her money, nothing that she could potentially use to escape.

Not that she had anywhere to go. Beyond the walled city was a dangerous place for her. Outside the city was Soviet-controlled Germany. Even if she attempted to leave through the subway tunnels as she and Adler once had, she was an enemy of the state. Sure, they had thought she was dead, but likely that had been proven wrong when her face showed up all over the KGB cameras as soon as someone had reviewed the footage. And hey, why is a dead woman working with Russell Adler anyway?

If caught, the KGB would make sure she was dead this time, but not after grilling her for all the information she had about the CIA. Or if Perseus got hold of her again. The blonde- Ivanova went to great lengths to ensure she could hold her and torture her freely. She was sure the entire organization wanted her head for what she did in Solovestky.

“Hey,” Frank nudged her. The collection of dull coins jingled as he moved them from one hand to the other. “So, what do you want to play?”

She walked around studying each machine. The arcade wasn’t busy, so she could get a good look at the games.

One in particular caught her eye. It was one she recognized from the fake America town.

She approached the cabinet and watched the preview play before her of a small character dressed in green jumping over black blocks on the ground. She realized that the blocks were meant to be open spaces through which the player could fall. After watching the demo play, Frank handed her a coin, and she started up the game. He tucked his hand in his jeans pocket and deposited the remaining tokens.

“Got plenty of ‘em, so you can try all of the machines if you want,” He said, patting his pocket, causing the coins to jingle again.

She smiled at him and then directed her focus back to the machine. She bent down to deposit the token, and the music on the cabinet changed.

Frank leaned an arm over the cabinet and watched her play. It took her a moment to learn the controls. Her character died a few times, but it was easy to identify the gameplay patterns after that.

“Hey, you’re not bad at this,” Frank said.

She shrugged.

Then she made a silly mistake, and the timer ran out on the game. She managed to convince Frank to play a round himself. They spent much of the afternoon at the arcade. Occasionally, they’d find a game they could play together. Boxing was entertaining because Frank would tell her about his brief experience as an amateur boxer as a teenager. Though with some of the stories, he’d end up distracting himself enough in the retelling that she could get several punches in at once.

After losing another round of boxing, Frank yawned and checked his watch.

“Getting late, we should head out. I wanted to get some things at the grocery store anyway,” Frank said. Then added, “Someone keeps complaining we don’t have any good food.”

“We don’t!” She said, following him out the door. He stopped short at a cabinet where a group of kids were gathered and rooted through his pockets for the remaining tokens. Then he dumped them into the hands of a girl standing on the outskirts of the group.

It was dark when they returned to the apartment, each holding one grocery bag.

She placed her bag on the counter and unpacked it, putting pantry items away as Frank stocked the fridge.

“Should I make us something?” She asked.

“Nah, I got an idea for us,” He said but didn’t elaborate. Mila wasn’t sure what to make of the smile that slowly crept across his face either.

“You, cooking?” She teased him.

“Hey, I can cook some things,” He said, feigning offense.

Mila chuckled. She wasn’t about to insult him if he was willing to make dinner for them. And she was a bit curious about what Frank would cook up. She leaned against the counter to watch him work.

“Let me know if you need me to do anything.”

“I got it. You gotta be tired after today anyway.”

He was right; she was exhausted, and she yawned as if on cue. She stretched her arms over her head and let out another long yawn. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that the message indicator on the answering machine was lit.

“Oh hey, Frank, you’ve got a message,” She said.

“Hit play for me, will ya?”

She depressed the button, and the tape on the machine whirred to life.

“Woods-”

Mila recognized the voice immediately.

“Is that Sims?”

“Shh-” Frank hushed her.

“- in town, and I’ve got some ideas for you. Well, for Bell. Come by tomorrow.”

The tape stopped, and the machine beeped. Frank continued his work without explanation. He had pulled out a fat tomato and was in the process of cutting it into slices. Mila watched him, waiting to see if he would elaborate.

When he didn’t, she asked him, “What was that about?”

Frank’s back straightened, and he cleared his throat before answering.

“Sims-” He paused, “He’s gonna help us.”

She bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from interrupting. She could tell Frank had more to say, but why was he taking so long to say it? He placed the knife on the cutting board but kept his other hand around the tomato as he turned his head to look at her.

“I’m not letting them drug you anymore, Mila,” He said firmly.

She hadn’t been expecting that. In fact, she wasn’t sure she understood him clearly.

“What? What do you mean?”

“I told them. All of them. They need to figure something else out.”

Frank turned back to the tomato and finished slicing. He moved the slices to a plate.

“All of them,” She repeated, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Park, Hudson, and Adler. All of them,” He said as he opened the fridge and pulled out a pack of bacon wrapped in butcher paper. He placed it on the counter. Frank then sprinkled some water on the pan, and it sizzled.

“Nice and hot,” He said quietly.

It was surreal watching him work. The conversation and the actions were incongruent. Frank was just making her dinner and casually telling her her entire life was about to change. That he- Frank Woods- of all people had made a decision about her life without talking to her about it.

This couldn’t be happening. Frank couldn’t do this to her.

Mila rubbed her forehead.

“Is that why you-” She stopped. She didn’t want to think that Frank took her out today to soften the blow of what would happen tomorrow. Mila ripped her hand away from her forehead and slammed her fist on the countertop.

Frank had just been about to place a slice of bacon in the pan, but he stopped and stared at her.

“Frank, if they’re not drugging me-” Mila started. She shook her head. The kitchen was a blur. She couldn’t make eye contact with him. She didn’t want to face the reality of it.

“If I’m not useful to them-” She tried again.

No, no, don’t say it.

“We almost lost you-” Frank said, his voice surprisingly calm.

“Frank!” She interrupted, “This is my life. And you’re what, just making decisions for me?”

“What do you want me to do?” He said. He tossed the bacon back on the butcher paper. It made a wet slapping sound when it hit the paper.

“You were gone. You didn’t see you. Lost in your head. It’s the fucking drugs, Mila. You want me just to step aside and let them do that to you?”

“I told you that’s what I was good for,” She said.

“So you think you deserve this?”

She said nothing to him then. The answer was obvious to both of them. He stepped towards the sink and washed his hands. As he dried them, he turned back toward her.

“Sometimes I think you’d rather lose your mind,” Frank said sadly. He tossed the towel on the counter before reaching out for her, but she slapped his hand away.

“Mila-”

“Controlling my life. Just like Adler.”

“Hey!” He raised his voice then.

It wasn’t fair. She knew she wasn’t being fair. Frank wasn’t Adler. But the roaring in her head wouldn’t stop. She stepped away from him and swung around, heading to her room.

She didn’t want to see him. Didn’t want to hear his reasoning. He was probably right, but the prospect of it not working, of her being imprisoned forever. She’d rather be dead. Because it would be forever. Held in solitary confinement with no hope of ever leaving.

She changed into her t-shirt, leaving her day clothes on the floor.

On her bed was the bag from the music store. Frank must have put it in here for her. She placed her headphones over her ears and popped a tape in. Somber music did its best to drown out the sounds of Frank cooking in the kitchen.

And eventually, she fell asleep.

She had a dream of meeting a man in a bar. He was a stranger to her, but they sat and talked as if they were old friends. After exchanging pleasantries, she leaned closer to him.

“Please. Frank Woods. It must be him.”

“Why?”

“Because I believe he is a good man. I believe he will understand.”

Mila woke up hungry. She was no stranger to the feeling, but somehow, paradoxically, it was harder to ignore now that she was getting food regularly. Easier to let the feeling fade into the background and have sleep for dinner when there was never any dinner or breakfast to look forward to.

The bedside clock told her it was the middle of the night, and she wondered if Frank would still be awake. Her anger had died almost as soon as her head hit the pillow. She felt guilty for blowing up on him and knew she needed to apologize. And that he’d probably chew her out for it. Frank wasn’t manipulative. He wasn’t trying to control her. He’d likely be more angry that she’d even suggest that than anything else. But first, she needed to eat something.

Swinging her feet around, she carefully got up from the bed. She avoided a particularly creaky floorboard and made her way to the door. She placed her ear against it and listened, but with the exception of the usual sounds of the building, it was quiet.

Even still, she opened the door as quietly as she could. If Frank was in his room snoring away, he would never hear her, but she couldn’t be too careful. Mila made her way to the kitchen. She could assemble a sandwich quickly and bring it back to her room. Though she hated eating in her room. It made her feel like she was in a prison cell. She opened the fridge, and there on the top shelf was a plate with a sandwich wrapped in waxed paper.

Frank had made dinner for her after all. Of course, he had. She picked up the chilled plate and turned to bring it to her room. But that’s when Frank emerged from the bathroom. A fleck of toothpaste dotted his beard. They caught each other’s gaze before he walked past her and through the kitchen. He was just on the threshold of the living room when he stopped. He raised his arm and leaned against the doorframe.

“Should have talked to you about it, but I wanted you to have a couple of good days before we had to figure things out,” He said. His hand formed into a fist, which he tapped against the frame before turning around.

The guilt crept in again. He had just been thinking about her again. His insistence on her rehabilitation had changed his living situation, his job, and his life. How much time did he spend thinking about her?

Mila set the sandwich down on the counter and stepped toward him.

“I’m sorry, Frank,” She said. It felt weak. After everything.

To her surprise, he nodded. He leaned against the counter and folded his arms across his bare chest.

“Yeah, me too,” He said.

She waited, she didn’t have much to say, everything that came to mind just sounded like an excuse to her.

“I’m not like him,” Frank said.

“I know, Frank,” She said.

“I’m not trying to control your life. Not interested in that,” He said.

He took in a deep breath. She shifted her weight on her feet. It seemed like he had more to say.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” She said when he said nothing.

He gave her a sidelong glance, and then a characteristic smirk appeared at the corner of his mouth. He threw his arm around her shoulders and pulled her into him.

“I’ve had worse,” He said with a chuckle. Frank reached over with his other arm and grabbed her plate. For a brief moment, she found herself enveloped in his arms. Face pressed against his chest. The scent of his cologne and the toothpaste filled the air around her. And he was warm, as always.

“Come on,” He said and guided her towards the couch. “No reason to eat alone. Unless you want to?”

She shook her head. They both took a seat on the couch.

“Thanks for the sandwich,” She said as she did. She sat down somewhat close to him, bending her legs and letting her feet dangle off the couch. She balanced the plate on her thigh and unwrapped the sandwich. Then she took a bite.

“Want some?” She offered to him. He shook his head. She covered her mouth with her hand and nodded, “It’s really good.”

“I thought so. Better warm, though.”

She wolfed down half the sandwich. In part because she was very hungry, but also to avoid conversation. However, when she finished, instead of picking up the second half, she said, “I’m sorry, Frank.”

“You said that already.”

He reached out and put his hand on the back of her neck, pulling her into him. He had to grab the sandwich plate before it slipped onto the couch, and he set it next to him on the armrest.

From behind her, he pulled down a blanket and draped it over her. She felt a strong desire to tell him everything that was going on in her head. Her worries, her fears, and even her hopes, however small, for her future. Mila looked up at Frank. Her eyes traveled over his face, the way the hairs of his beard curved to the contour of his jawline. The deep wrinkles that lead up to his eyes, his eyes, bright blue, so much hidden behind them.

Frank thought about her enough. She didn’t need to dump her feelings on him.

He must have sensed her watching him because he glanced down. He made a soft questioning noise to match the look on his face.

Mila rose up, allowing the blanket to fall from her shoulders, and pressed a hand to Frank’s chest before kissing him.

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quizzyisdone · 1 year

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Take On Me | Fem! Bell Reader x Frank Woods

A/N: Hi!! I know it has been forever since I post for BOCW and honestly, I miss it a lot. Adult life just doesn't really lend itself well to having creative hobbies (shocking). But here's a little something for Valentine's Day that definitely is not projection at all :) Masterlist Pairing: Fem! Bell Reader x Frank Woods Word Count: 3.2k Synopsis: Woods has always hated Valentine's Day -- it's just a pathetic marketing gimmick for big businesses to take your money and for society to make you feel bad if you spend it alone. Bell, on the other hand, would beg to differ. Warnings: Strong language, mentions of alcohol, Woods is a jackass at one point but don't worry he makes up for it

*Title inspired by Take On Me, by a-ha

You walked glumly down the sidewalk, attempting to avert your eyes from the restaurants that lined the streets, young couples all enjoying a nice Valentine’s Dinner inside. Even the damn weather was romantic.

Light flurries of snow cascading around everyone, intricate snowflakes landing delicately in your hair and onto your coat. It wasn’t bone-chilling cold either, perfect for a stroll down the street, holding hands with the one you loved. Warm yellowish hues from inside the various buildings emanated onto the street, along with the sound of laughter and idle chatter as well. It would’ve been the perfect atmosphere to set the mood for a date with Woods. The idyllic late winter day.

You clutched the brown paper bag filled with his favorite beer to your chest, careful so as not to drop it. It was your little Valentine’s Day gift, small and inconsequential enough to play off as just a kind gesture and completely not at all related to the present holiday. Admittedly, your feelings were a little hurt when Woods had gone off on a sarcastic tangent about how much he hated Valentine’s Day the other day and that it was just a stupid corporate holiday.

He was kind of right, but it was still fun to celebrate, at least for you. A nice little date, free from the worries of either of your jobs or maybe at least a gift from Woods would have been nice. You two had never even been in the same state, or even country for that matter, during the holiday since you started dating.

Maybe missing Valentine’s Day was kind of your fault anyways, since after his little joking tangent both of you agreed not to celebrate or do anything -- it was just a normal day. Ironic, considering a day with Woods could scarcely be considered normal due to your work with the CIA and his with the Marines. A normal day wasn’t getting called into work and both of you just sitting on the couch, too exhausted to truly spend time with each other in a manner other than physically being in the same room.

Truthfully, life had been rather boring lately, your relationship wasn’t missing love per se, but it was missing that old excitement.

You turned off of the street and into the apartment building where you shared a flat with Woods. After climbing up two flights of stairs and finding your door, you reached into your coat pocket for your keys, opening to the door to find Woods putting his own jacket on and grabbing the keys to his truck.

“Hey babe.” He said, barely giving you a glance in acknowledgment as he tied his boots.

“Hi.” You said, confused and frowning. You crossed your arms. “Where are you going?”

“Oh, over to this dive bar with Adler, he just got back into town, thought I’d get a drink with him.” Woods explained, none the wiser to how upset you were. You harshly placed down the brown bag. “Uh, what’s in the bag?” He asked.

“Something I got for you. I wanted to do something nice for you.” You crossed your arms and put on the angriest expression you could muster to hide how defeated you felt. He opened it, revealing a six pack of his favorite imported beer, very difficult and expensive to get in America. Instead of a smile and a thank you, he furrowed his brows, frowning.

“We weren’t supposed to get each other anything.”

“It wasn’t for Valentine’s Day. It was meant to be a nice gesture” You spat, stomping off and into the living room adjacent to the foyer. “Not even a fucking thank you.” You whispered under your breath.

“Thank you?” He yelled from the other room, following you, now clearly just as angry as you. “We agreed not to get anything for each other. I don’t fucking want your gift if you’re just going to be an ass about it.”

“I went to seven different liquor stores across the entire Philadelphia city limit in the snow and paid nearly fifty dollars for a six pack of special imported beer that you’d go through in one sitting because I knew this was your favorite and now you don’t want it. Some gratitude would be nice. ”

“Why would I want it if you’re gonna act like a bitch?” Woods bellowed. ‘Bitch’ had hit a nerve, he had never called you that before, but then again the two of you never got into any bad arguments before. Regardless, you stood your ground.

“Maybe I’m acting like a bitch because your first response was to chastise and question me for getting you a present and now you’re yelling at me.”

“I didn’t even want to celebrate Valentine’s!”

“Maybe I did because I never get to be with you anymore, you’re always too tired or too busy to fucking be my partner.” Your pitch became quieter and you suddenly became aware of the tears streaming down your cheeks in a torrential downpour. “You haven’t touched me in forever. I miss you. I wanted to celebrate it with you, I never got to experience any of this.” You said through clenched teeth.

Evidently, the tears did not sway Woods, as he continued yelling.

“Well I have and it’s not that fun. Sorry I’m exhausted from saving the entire fucking free world, Bell.” He retorted.

You scoffed.

“Get off your fucking soapbox, Woods. You and I do the exact same thing, and I still make time for you.” You turned your body away from him facing the wall, not even wanting to see him. “It’d be nice if you could do that for me too.”

“I do!” He explained, almost childlike in his declaration -- like a toddler so boldly claiming that the sky was green because he said so.

“When was the last time you even took me out when it wasn’t my idea?” Woods paused, attempting to remember (to which he couldn’t). “See? You don’t even remember. Go and hang out with your buddy, don’t bother coming back if you don’t want me anymore. I’ll get the hint.” You said dejectedly, walking off to your bedroom but stealing a glance at Woods, who only glared daggers at you, brows furrowed, looking almost annoyed with you.

You lightly shut your bedroom door the exact moment Woods slammed the front door shut, the vibration of which could be felt against the wall and you could hear a distant clang and glass shatter. You placed your back against the wood, slowly sliding down into the floor and placing your head between your knees, sobbing.

You instantly regretted that ultimatum you just gave him, Woods was the only person you have after MK-Ultra, while he had everyone. He didn’t need you, you needed him. To ground you, to keep you sane.

---------

Woods stomped off to his truck, angrily shoving the key into the ignition. The drive to the bar was erratic and rage-filled, as he gripped the steering wheel with an iron clasp and swore under his breath, muttering counter arguments that he could’ve used in an attempt to justify his actions.

Arriving at the bar, he slammed the door shut, scanning the front of the building for Adler, whom he found almost immediately, nursing a cigarette as per usual. The person who stood next to him, however, utterly enraged Woods. Fucking Hudson.

Despite himself, Woods strided to where they were standing, waiting for him.

“Hey Adler.” He greeted the scarred man. Adler nodded back in acknowledgement.“The fuck you doing here, Hudson?”

“Well aren’t you in a great fuckin’ mood.” Hudson retorted, jabbing Woods’s shoulder. “Come on, we can argue inside when we’re sat down and drunk.”

Woods reluctantly obliged him, opening the door and scanning the room for a table, considering the bar was completely full. He found a high top table and sat down, beckoning for a server, for which he ordered three whiskeys and a round of shots for the table.

Silence ensued for a brief moment before Adler broke it.

“So why the hell are you in a bad mood this time, Woods?” He asked, exasperated in a way that indicated that it wasn’t so uncommon for the sergeant to swing by in a sour mood. Woods immediately went on the defensive.

“The more important question is why the fuck Hudson is here? Don’t you have a wife and kids to celebrate Valentine’s with? She pissed at you too?” Woods spat, and Hudson sighed deeply.

“So that’s what this is about.” Adler chuckled to himself.

“If you have to know, Jenny’s not in town right now,” He explained. “Few days ago she was really upset and needed a vacation, so I told her I’d watch the kids while she went down to her mother’s house for some alone time.”

“Oh and so I guess you just left the kids at home by themselves.” Woods retorted, realizing belatedly that his statement was a bit unfair. For all his faults, he had always known the man to be a devoted husband and father. Hudson rolled his eyes.

“What kind of father do you take me for? This sixteen year old girl down the street needed some pocket money so I’m paying her to babysit them. Happy?” He rolled his eyes and Woods let the matter drop. “So now that I’ve answered your question, what has put you in an even worse mood than usual? Is it Bell?” Hudson asked.

Woods groaned. “Yes, okay? We got into a fight.”

“About?” Adler beckoned Woods to explain.

“Well,” He began. “So a few weeks back, right? I went off on some rant that Valentine’s Day is stupid and we agreed to not celebrate it. But today I guess she went back on her word and got me a gift and made me look like an asshole for not getting her anything. Then we got into a fight. That’s it.”

“That can’t be it.” Hudson scoffed. This time it was Woods’s turn to roll his eyes.

“Fine.” He huffed. “Words were… exchanged.”

“And what the hell exactly did you say to her?” Adler piped up. Woods rolled his eyes again, slamming his beer bottle down.

“Fine.” He huffed, beginning to regale every single gritty detail of a five minute fight, seeing as Hudson and Adler would’ve pried everything out of him some way or another. Throughout his story, Woods kept stuttering over his words, pausing, taking deep breaths. He still couldn’t get over that ultimatum.

“You called her a bitch?” Hudson stared at Woods, his eyes glaring daggers.

“That was your first mistake.” Adler snickered.

“No, that was his hundredth mistake. Your first mistake, Woods, was ranting about Valentine’s Day in the first place.” Hudson paused, noticing the very displeased expression of the man across from him. Not wanting to get into a bar fight tonight, he chose his next words carefully. “Hear me out, I can tell you every reason why you’re wrong, if you want. If you don’t, that’s fine. Drink your pain away and let your relationship with Bell go down the drain.”

Tense silence filled the air as Woods retreated back into his head. He certainly hates Hudson, doesn’t think the man does a damn thing right, but he’s been married for the better half of a decade for a reason, right? Woods slowly nodded his head, it couldn’t hurt to hear the man out, and besides, even in his rage, even after the ultimatum you gave him, losing one of the only people he actually cared about was one he couldn’t bear.

“Okay. Well, as we all well know, Bell doesn’t remember anything about her life.” Hudson glanced at Adler, who suddenly found a keen interest in the glass of whiskey in front of him. “And in the past three years, she hadn’t been able to celebrate any holiday other than Christmas last year because of schedules. Everything is a first for her, making it special to her. So your first mistake was ranting about Valentine’s Day.”

“Wh- How?” Woods sighed.

“Jesus Christ you’re so fucking dense.” Hudson mumbled to himself, rubbing his forehead. “It’s her first and she has someone who she loves dearly to celebrate it with. Probably felt like a gut punch. And still yet, she tried to make it special in spite of you. You practically spat on her for it. You called her a bitch and yelled instead of just accepting it and spending the night with her. That’s all she wanted.”

Oh. Maybe he was onto something.

“You are all Bell has.” Hudson stressed, the way he was explaining the situation to Woods, you would think he has experienced this exact situation. Perhaps he has, Woods did find that break up letter to Hudson from some girl like fifteen or so odd years ago. “And she’s probably feeling pretty neglected.”

“So why do you all of the sudden like Bell?” Adler asked, shame from the mention of what he did to you still painted on his expression.

“I like her well enough, and she’s proven herself.” Hudson took a sip from his drink and laughed softly. “But I like proving Woods wrong more.”

“Shut the fuck up, baldilocks.” Woods grumbled and Adler snorted, while Hudson let out a small chuckle at the creative insult. “I’ve gotta go.”

Unceremoniously, Woods removed himself from the high barstool, fumbling in his pocket for his wallet. He placed a twenty on the table, leaving without a word.

“Y’know he’s never gonna admit that sometimes you’re right.” Adler said, a cigarette between his teeth as he popped open his zippo lighter.

“I know.”

Woods glanced down at his watch as he approached the door to your shared apartment. It was only seven when he left. Fuck. He hoped you might still be awake. As quietly as he could, with a bouquet in one hand and his keys in the other, he unlocked the door.

“Bell?” He whispered, hoping to hear at least a TV or the radio playing. Instead, it was dark, with only a small glow emanating from the oven light in the kitchen. “Babe?”

No answer. Shit. He set his keys down on the counter that separated the kitchen from the living room and turned on a lamp. Gingerly, he made his way to your shared bedroom, opening the door softly.

On the bed, he found you asleep, facing towards the door and your hand lazily resting on the pillow on his side. He sighed, it was clear you had fallen asleep crying, your eyes puffy and cheeks red even in sleep. Woods took off his boots, setting down the bouquet on the nightstand.

As stealthily as a man of his size could manage, he crawled into bed, facing towards you. He held the hand that was resting on his side in his own hand, bringing it to his, softly kissing your knuckle.

“Bell.” He rested his free hand on your hip, rubbing soothing circles with his thumbs. Woods smiled softly as your eyes fluttered awake. Instead of returning his soft gestures, you simply grumbled, taking back your hand and flipping over on your other side. He didn’t know what he expected, but it wasn’t that. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

“You’re only saying that because you’re drunk. Go to bed, you'll feel differently in the morning.” You said, sniffling and barely audible.

“I didn’t drink anything. Baby girl, I am so fucking sorry.” He scooched closer to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you flush to his form. “I’m sorry for complaining about Valentine’s, I’m sorry for the beer, I’m sorry for calling you a bitch, I’m sorry for being a fucking jackass to my girl.”

Silence ensued for a few minutes, only interrupted with your occasional sniffle. You sighed, sitting up and facing towards him. You gave a sad smile.

“Frank, I just want us to be normal.” Your voice cracked as the tears began again. “I don’t want this shitty military stuff anymore. I just want to be a normal couple who does normal couple things.”

“Oh, baby girl. Honey, I am so sorry.” He shushed as he sat up, holding you in his arms so tightly, as if he was afraid you’d shatter into dust and leave him forever if he didn’t.

“Baby, we can be normal. I’ll take you to the movies, I’ll take you on more dates, I’ll bring you flowers, I’ll win you the biggest stuffed animal at the fair, I’ll even celebrate Valentine’s Day with you.” He kissed your temple, pulling you even closer as sobs racked your body. “Please, I just need you in my life.”

“Please don’t ever leave me.” You whimpered.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.” He held you, strong and steadfast, guilt from the events that transpired earlier sweeping over him. “I couldn’t live without you. God, I’m so fucking sorry, baby girl.”

“Me neither.” The two of you remained there, locked in an embrace and peacefully silent. For hours, you felt as if he was going to leave you, and without him, you’d quite literally have nothing. Without him, you’d have to crawl back to the man that hurt you the most.

To have the normally gruff, brash Marine sergeant here, admitting to you how much he needed you in his life, it almost felt that for once in your life, that you were a normal person. Not some brainwashed freak.

“I got you a present.” He pulled his head back to look at you. A soft smile creeped across your features. “It’s not as good as those beers you got me,” He reached over the nightstand, presented the bouquet of flowers. “And it took me forever to find, considering every florist was either closed or sold out. But you deserve this, and so much more.”

“Oh, Frank. They’re perfect. Thank you so much.” You gave him a quick peck, looking over the bouquet with a proud smile on your face. Your first flowers from him.

“Bell, I also have a very important question for you.” He smiled earnestly at how your eyes were lit up, just from flowers. You nodded, beckoning him to ask. “Will you be my Valentine?”

Your happiness turned into straight glee as you practically exploded with joy.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” You exclaimed, pushing him down and straddling him. You giggled and peppered his face with little kisses all over as he grinned, chuckling along with you. “Of course I will.” You said softly, pulling back as you placed the flowers on your side’s nightstand.

You returned to his side, cuddling up flush against his chest as he smiled down at you, like today never even happened. Your hands drew small circles on his chest and you sighed contentedly, this was a feeling that you had missed these past few months. Just you and Woods -- nothing else.

“Baby?” He hummed. You let your eyes close, the threat of sleep drawing ever near.

“M’yeah?”

“We’ll do something more fun tomorrow, okay?” Woods grinned as he also let his eyes close, pulling you even tighter towards him.

“This is good enough for me.” You lazily smiled against his chest.

So needless to say I'm odds and ends But I'll be stumbling away Slowly learning that life is okay

#pls excuse the title but tbh idc if the song is a giant meme #the lyrics just fit a wood x bell ship so nicely #frank woods #frank woods x reader #frank woods x bell #russell adler #jason hudson #bocw #black ops cold war #cod #call of duty #quizzy writes

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