Noisy little mess
Hi sweetie ⁓
I swear to god i'm dreaming about the future plot lately, and I chukle in my sleep since it's so funny dealing with (stalking) the Task Force even if i shouldn't laugh about the things i'm thinking about and i'm so happy to see you've got the same problem as me.
Send hugs to wherever you are ⁓
DISCLAIMERS: clean from smut, but a lot of ignoring feelings and responsabilities; GhostxReader and his will to pretend she doesn't exist (spoiler, he fails); how-to-not-doing-a-mission-safely; a sprinkle of paternal chat; Task Force being misterious about their Lt.; ghosts scared of gnomes.
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Third part here:
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You don't know how you've managed to come back safely to your room.
What you do know is that, since yesterday, your Lt is nowhere to be found.
Oh, and you've finally got menstruations. Soap is the first one who gets aware of this, welcoming you at the breakfast table with the sweetest:
«Ye're finally bleeding, aren't ye?»
Gaz throws him a bunch of towels before Price manages to save the few left, hiding them under his plate.
You sit next to Johnny. It is so rare to have the Captain at breakfast, and it is even…suspicious. You swallow your oatmeal silently, gazing at Price till he murmurs: «What is it?» that smells like coffee and late night work.
«Mmmnothin'»
He sighs, finally raising his sight at you.
«Spit it out. What's wrong?»
«Mmmh…»
He sips his black coffee while exchanging a sight war with you, who're looking at him through the spoonful of chocolate oatmeal, eyes sharpened as a knife. Price leans toward you, willing to win the challenge, when Gaz suddenly asks:
«Have someone seen the Lt? I need to give him a-»
«Speaking of him-» you suddenly burst, breaking the eye contact with Price just to make him sighs for the second times in five minutes. He raises an hand toward your face.
«If you're seeking revenge for your injury-»
«I'm not» you reply almost immediately. «Even if he was a dick»
Price scolds you immediately with a threatening: «language, rookie»
You scroll your shoulders, knowing well you can push yourself so far just 'cause they don't really care about discipline towards each other. At least not at breakfast.
«He's disappeared. So: either he really is a ghost, and he vanished; or he's hiding from me»
Gaz was about to make a joke on your words, but he suddenly stops, with his fork still stuck on the omelet.
«…what? Why from you?»
«Ye'r not that scary»
«I bet i am»
«Hold on, hold on»
Price makes his way through the speech, raising his hands to gain silence. Then he looks at you like he's watching a child trying to convince an ice cream he's not about to eat it.
«So that's what it's going on» and murmurs to himself: «that bloody liar…»
You gasp in surprise, just to make some drama, and Johnny follows your move like a Victorian damoiselle. You slam your hands on the table before Price could speak again, or try to run away from his own words, and you suddenly remember about your elbow. Painful moans are choked in your guts as you spit out a too loud:
«Explain»
And Price answer with an abrupt:
«No»
And Johnny puts out his best puppy eyes, leaning on the table toward his Captain:
«Please! We need to know!»
«We?» John looks at him like he's surrounded by chatty widows. «Why in the bloody hell would you like to know somethin' you're not even involved in?»
«At this point 's a matter of principle»
«A what?»
«We're a team, secrets can't tear us apart»
«That's not a secret»
«Than speak»
«Is it about the fact that Ghost is either tryna kill or getting acquainted with her?»
Three pairs of eyes suddenly glare toward Gaz, who once again freezes with his fork balanced toward his mouth. He smiles nervously.
«…am I allowed to feel in danger?»
Johnny answer with a too sudden: «yes»
Price takes out a cigar with nonchalance, pointing it at Garryk « So you've noticed. At least one brain in my team is not totally burnt»
«Waitwaitwait» you bring back to you the attention, raising an hand to take the floor. «Is he really scared of me? That's why I haven't seen him around in 24 hours?»
«He told me he needed to figure something out 'cause of a problem you've made». Price gives you a look. «I've thought of talking to you about it, but… I'm not blind, rookie. And now that you've speak about him fearing you…i kinda understand what it's passing through his mind»
Gaz nods in agreement. Johnny takes his time to think about it, and after ten seconds of the other two staring at him he eventually realizes something.
Something that you're not getting.
Your eyes jump on their faces with the urge of the only gamer in the team who doesn't know how to cheat. Your fingers dig deeper in the cuticles as you see the three men stand up and make their way out of the dining hall.
«Hey! You can't leave with the secret all to yourself!»
«Sorry kid»
Price pat your head before waving at you, leaving you with what's left of your oatmeal and a few, terse words:
«If he'll feels like it, he'll tell you»
He stops. He suddenly turns serious.
«Do you think you're ready to show us how reliable you are?»
You falter, mumbling: «…yeah…?»
«Good. I've got a work for you, rookie»
Documents are on his desk. Not just any pile of paper: the pile of paper, the intel they were waiting for, the information they've searched for for almost three months.
Ghost is reading the sheets again and again. Yeah, there's no doubt: it's what they've needed, and it is there, on his desk, spawned out of nowhere when he was away for a…mission. Let's call it a mission.
He should be pleased. Happy to say the least, since this kinda intel's like food from heaven for the task force.
But he's…kinda lost in his thoughts. Almost annoyed.
«Who in the bloody hell…» he murmurs as he takes a look at the sheets, not even realizing that someone else has entered the room.
«your fav rookie»
Price's voice makes him fall from his thought's tree. Ghost glares at him through the mask, inspecting his Cap who's clinging on the door frame with a lot of nonchalance, arms crossed and an amused smile on his face.
«…ya'r not meaning-»
«I am»
«Mh»
«surprised? She did an hell of a job, in a good way» he comes in, shutting the door. «She's a good one»
«yeah…»
«That's all you've got?»
Ghost almost stops to breath; his gaze at Price's like laser beam, and he has to collect enough air to blow out a stern:
«Do ya need something else? 'Ve got work to do»
And Price waste no time to smile back a:
«Old demons eat your tongue?»
To what Ghost' s answer's a growl: «mh»
Price shakes his shoulders, approaching the door to go out. «Just an impression of mine»
Ghost's voice stops him at the door knob:
«Ya'r wrong»
«Mmm, yeah? About what?»
«Stop thinking about it, i know you are»
«Tell me what to think then»
«She's not like that»
«Oh, so there is a "she" in your brain»
«Don't read into it»
«You know what's fun?» the Captain comes back, taking a seat in front of Ghost, pointing at him with his judgmental finger «You're dealing with her like she's blackmailing you, or something. Nervous smiles, stupid revenges…»
«Bullshits»
«'S that so? And how do ya call the little problem during training session?»
«A problem. That's all»
«Ghost-»
«No»
He stands, turning his back at the Captain. And that, for him, was the end of the chat.
But not for Price.
«Is not a shame falling for someone»
And the Lt. gives him the coldest glare, jerking his sight at his Cap.
«I'm not» he spit with a harsh voice.
Price doesn't move. He checks his pocket, taking his first cigar of the day just to put it through his lips and chewing the tip lightly, eyes glued to Ghost's. The Cap. nods.
«Good to know» he murmurs.
That was the end of the story. Or at least Ghost has hoped so.
Three days later, he can't help but walk through the base with his eyes fixed on every rookie who stands in his way. He had searched the dining room every morning, checked the training field, the goddamn gym in the evening, even waited for a few minutes every time he passed by her room.
Nothing.
None.
No sign of aggressive gnomes around.
Ghost sips his black coffee in complete silence, glaring at everyone for no apparent reason. He needed to end that odd feeling, those annoying jumps of adrenaline, the bad sensation that something hostile was growing within his stern, cold behavior, breaking it from the inside, scratching away the metal wrap he had built to better control every inch of himself.
And he needed to have her in front of him, speaking out loud the reasons why she was eating his insides like a virus, and asking her, gently or not, to try her best and pretend the two of them do not know each other.
Feeling things for others, either bad or good…it wasn't for him.
«Bloody little idiot…»
«Hope ye'r not talking 'bout me»
Ghost's gaze raises as Johnny joins his solitary coffee-sipping ritual. He put his mug on the table, spreading around chocolate aroma.
The Lt. recognizes it immediately: «That's her goddamn pudding»
«I'm addicted»
Breakfast brings back silent eating and mumbling on caffeine. Soap devours his oatmeal, waiting.
'Cause he knows he just has to wait.
It takes Ghost just one minute and a half to burst out a pretended unselfish:
«Maybe she has eaten that much chocolate that she's become one bar»
«Mh?»
«She's nowhere to be found in person, it seems»
«Are ye searching for her?»
«'Cause of the intel she'd collected» he rushes a justification that Soap doesn't really buy. Johnny almost absorbs his last spoonful, chewing out words mixed with chocolate:
«Price's sent her on a mission. Confidential» he adds. «Dunno 'bout details»
Oh.
That was unexpected; so unexpected that Ghost bites his tongue after rushing out a too fast:
«When?»
The spoon falls in the mug with a metal tingle; Soap's side eyes reach Ghost.
«…are ye worried?»
«No» he bursts.
«Well, we are. Me and Gaz»
That doesn't sound like a lie, and Simon has to lower his shield made of pretending-not-to-think-about-her stuff. Soap keeps on, his eyes wandering around the crowded room:
«Maybe Price's overestimated her skills, dunno…or maybe she's just not ready. 'S strange not having news after three days»
«You two do like her»
Soap sighs, shaking away from his shoulders the morning stiffness.
«She's a good one. She's fun. But she's not so skilled on the field»
«You don't get worried about every rookie's first time. Sooner or later they'll have to be kicked out of the nest»
«If the one that's been kicked out 's ma fav sparrow chick, at least i hope that it'll fall on something soft»
«She's no chick, and not my fav» he rushes again, eagerly to end the conversation and get the fuck out of there. He stands, with a chuckling Soap next to him, who knows his Lt. too well and knows he just has to wait a little more, to give him time to elaborate his thoughts in a more sensible way.
Ghost's first impulse is always imposing himself as a threatening and leading figure. It's an habit.
But this time he doesn't have time to retry his answer.
A worried Gaz appears in the dining room, rushing toward them in some sort of urgency.
«You two» he breathes out, clinging on the table while regaining some air in his lungs «Do you want the good news, or the it-could-be-better news?»
«Were ye runnin' a bloody marathon at the fucking six in the morning?»
«Good new» Ghost answer, still holding his empty coffee mug. «Always good news first»
Gaz gazes at them, elaborating his words as best as he could: «…do ya remember the no-one's-going-to-do-that-mission topic in our last meeting?»
«That sort of suicidal duty 'bout sneaking alone in a mafia boss dirty party?»
Gaz nods. «That one»
«With none to cover your arse?»
«Yeah»
«That one Laswell was tryna to figure out so bad 'cause the goddamn boss had valuable infos 'bout big weapons traffic?»
«Aha»
«But none was that stupid to try it?»
«Soap». Ghost stops his Sergeant's stream of thoughts with a glare through the balaclava. «Cut it. What's the bloody good news 'bout it Garryk?»
«Mission's been accomplished» he spits, with neither a smile nor optimism, and a strange, worried look. Soap's eyes get wider.
«Are ye fucking kidding? Who's the idiot who tried it in the first place?»
Gaz sighs.
«'S our idiot»
It takes a bunch of seconds to link the description with a face, but your silly little smile rushes through their brain almost immediately. Soap stands up so fast the chair almost falls.
«WHAT-»
«The other news » Ghost's harsh voice talks over him, with a hint of hurriness, an almost audible tip of concern that he swallows.
And Gaz wastes no time:
«Now she can drain pasta with her arm»
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Ahh I love the food thing that you got asked <3 food can have such a special place in our lives it's so precious
Ya think Hound develop concerning eating habits due to Makarov? Due to the whole stressful situation
I just want someone in the 141 to cook him a meal, filled with love and care, maybe Hound is in the kitchen watching them cook it for his own security.
I just want him to have a nice meal 😔
-🐙
I do feel like Hound would have some food hoarding habits or just distrust about eating something he didn't make himself. It wouldn't be the first time he'd gotten drugged through food...
But the 141 making food communally would be a fun idea lol so here's a quick brain fart :D :
You feel out of place. Well, you're always out of place, but you feel especially out of place sitting at the table while Soap and and Gaz busy themselves by the stove, Price humming to himself to the side as he gets the mugs to make tea. Ghost sits next to you grumbling under his breath, both of you in 'time-out' — you hadn't done anything (save for not being trusted around anything sharp), it's Ghost that had gone and microwaved beans in the can. Now Johnny swears up and down the microwave is possessed.
Your eyes flicker between Soap and Gaz, watching them cook you don't even know what. The only British 'cuisine' you know of is the cremated steaks Price would sometimes make you before. . . that. But nothing the two are making smells nearly as bad as the charred hockey pucks Price would feed you and Simon.
"Hey!" Your brought out of your thoughts in time to see Kyle swat away Price's hand with his spatula. "Don't you dare cap! I'm not about to get rained on because of your bad cooking." You hadn't considered Gaz could take charge, too soft in your eyes, but you're surprised by how tight of a ship he runs when he's by the stove.
"Alright, alright." Price huffs while Ghost lets out an amused huff. He's not quite laughing, but you can see the subtle tremor of his shoulders in silent laughter.
That gets Soap to point a spoon in Ghost's direction. "Oh yer one te fockin' giggle. Mr. 'ah cursed the damn microwave with me beans'."
"Sod off." Simon grunts, but there's no edge to his words. Soap tuts, but soon enough starts off rambling about something you're not quite able to follow along to when your eyes once again focus on where their arms are, how they move, paying especially close attention any time they rest them by their sides (even though realistically you doubt they'd try to drug the same food they'd eat).
You still tense when you feel Price's hand on your back, only now noticing that you'd started hunching your back, your shoulders raised closer to your ears. "You're alright, straighten your spine, sweetheart." His voice is calm, his hand warm as he applies gentle pressure on your back until you straighten back out. "There you go, good man." He rumbles, hand going up to ruffle your hair before he pulls away before his touch can turn into stinging pain to your skin.
You blink as a plate full of food is placed in front of you. The food smells good and doesn't look like it had been cremated, made with care you don't deserve. "I. . ." You don't know why but your throat feels clogged, like someone had poured hot tar into your mouth and forced you to swallow, the collar around your throat constricting your breathing even more.
Simon's shoulder bumps into yours, "If you don't eat that I will." The childish threat makes you breathe out a small laugh.
"Aye, the bastard's like Henry the hoover, he'll eat anything." Soap supplies as he sits down opposite of you with his own plate. Though you get the impression he's talking about himself when he stabs a sausage with a fork and almost inhales the entire thing.
"Mhm," You grunt, taking the fork. "I don't doubt it." You stab a piece of black pudding. It tastes earthy, but the small coppery tang of blood sizzles down your nerves, but fuck it tastes good.
"Look at that, is it good?" Kyle chuckles as he watches your facial features shift as you swallow the food, his own face that of pride like he already knows your answer, but you nod your head all the same.
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