COD One Shots [COD - MW]

Ghost X Reader: Nobody's son, nobody's daughter

An excited buzz traveled over the base, filled with laughter of new recruits having a week's leave ahead of them.

You sat at the corner of the mess hall. Observing, as these young people rambled on about seeing their families again.

A tug on your heart. A reminder of what you lost.

Pushing yourself off the chair, you walked through the crowd, finding your way to the barracks.

A bright afternoon sun shone down upon you as you stepped outside. A contrast to the falling temperature, as your breath bloomed in wisps of grey before your eyes.

In the distance, you found a familiar face. You forced a smile as Soap sang a heavily altered version of Jingle Bells, in a fit of laughter with some recruits.

You gave him a nod as you walked past, he raised his glass in return, one of which he'd already had many by the looks of it.

Entering the barracks didn't provide much relief. People moved in and around their sleeping quarters, chatting loudly, exchanging gifts.

''Merry Christmas, Lieutenant!'' one beamed as he spotted you.

A polite smile. More you couldn't muster. Speaking would betray your hurt.

You climbed the stairs where the officials had their quarters, away from the noisy newer recruits. Finding your room quickly, you shut the door behind you.

Sinking on the bed, you let your head fall in your hands.

Such a jolly time of year.

The roaring engines outside signaled some of the buses leaving. The rowdy chatter dying down, until an eerie silence remained.

The crickets began their nightly song as you'd all but finished your bottle of whiskey. The alcohol coursed through your veins, numbing the stabbing pain in your guts to only a throbbing ache.

You couldn't remember the last time you had parents to come home to during Christmas. A lone child, it had been the military, or a homeless life.

Daunted by the dangers of the street, you joined the army.

And each year the same story. Everyone around you rejoicing in the joys of the holidays. You, left alone in an eerily quiet base as the premises were vacated.

Leaning on the windowsill, taking in the harsh white light spilling over the empty base from the tall light poles.

A text on your phone. Price wishing you and the 141 a Merry Christmas. You watched the screen as it filled with the same goddamn message as the others replied.

Another sip from your bottle, as you typed in a shaking merry christmas. Then, a sigh as you noticed your bottle was empty.

Cursing under your breath, you pushed yourself off the window sill and begrudgingly tracked towards your door, swaying considerably as the effect of the whiskey took its toll.

You pushed open the heavy wooden door, every movement feeling like an insurmountable task.

You squinted as you made your way down the hallway, the dark space illuminated only by the electric light of an open fridge.

You stopped in your tracks as a familiar figure stood in the kitchen, hunched over as he sorted through the fridge.

You plopped down in one of the chairs positioned near the small kitchen, functioning as a small dining space.

You knew Ghost had heard you come in, but he hadn't reacted yet. It was a scary skill he had, knowing you'd arrived before you'd even made a sound.

He straightened up, eyes falling on you behind the skull balaclava he never took off. Then, his gaze shifted to the bottle you held.

''Merry christmas, Y/N,'' a hollow tone to his words.

You raised your empty bottle in response. ''Merry fuckin' christmas, Ghost.''

You knew enough about Ghost's past to piece together why he spent this night at the base, instead of on a plane back to Manchester.

Ghost closed the fridge and moved over to the table you sat at, placing down a glass of water in front of you.

You sat beside him in silence for a second. The chilling absence of the Christmas spirit so evident in the air. Christmas songs replaced by the soft hum of the fridge, the only light spilling in the room a small square through the tiny kitchen window.

Your eye flickered over to Ghost at the pull of a lighter. A soft chuckle rumbling through you as he lifted his balaclava, a cigarette between his lips.

''Smoking inside?''

The lighter flicked.

''Are you gonna tell on me?''

You shook your head, a glimpse of a smile on your face.

''Nah.''

He took a drag from the cigarette before offering it to you. Your eye moved between the cigarette, then back up to him, before taking it from him and taking a drag.

''Fuckin' horrible, this time of year,'' you said, the plume of the cigarette swirling around above you.

A silence from him, one that you weren't surprised at. Conversations with Ghost were often filled with silence.

You offered him the cigarette back.

''You spendin' the whole week down here?'' he asked, a glance at your features in the dim streetlight.

You just nodded. Sipping from the cool water helped ease the pounding headache already developing in your intoxicated haze.

''You?''

He leaned back in his chair, eyes pulled towards the smoldering end of the cigarette.

''I usually get a hotel. Can't fuckin' stand this.'' He gestured to the space around you.

Your heart dropped a little further as he spoke. For some reason, his presence here was comforting. The empty void filling your chest easing a little as he sat beside you.

He noticed. He studied your features, only a second, then offered you another drag.

''I can stay?''

You looked up at him, recomposing yourself quickly as you took the cigarette again. You wanted to tell him it was fine, not to worry. Burdening him with your solitude only made this harder.

The words wouldn't come out. Lying to Ghost never worked, the man poked through every falsehood with ease.

But then, the truth. A million times more daunting, yet the only option your drunken mind could come up with.

''I'd like that.''

A ghost of a smile on his features. Leaning back as he stared off into space.

The cigarette died out as you pressed the stump into the ashtray. Embers sizzling, fading away.

A lingering glance on your features before you turned your head and looked his way. You saw him swallow, a debate raging behind his eyes before he cautiously placed his hand on yours.

A real smile settled on your features then, the contact of his hand on yours seeping through your cold bones, spreading like a wildfire.

You sat together with him. Christmas in the air, in all its grief. Two souls, alone in this world, intertwined just for this moment, when the soft December air felt more haunting than ever.

Nobody's son, nobody's daughter.