Call of Duty Oneshots by zoa!

Third of December - Ghost [N]

Ghost and you were inseparable.

Two peas in a pod, always seen with each other. Practically attached by the hip.

You two were so close people mistook you for dating.

And you wish you were.

You sat in the lounge room with him, laughing away at the ridiculous jokes he told, cheeks flaring a bright hue of pink. His eyes had tears in from laughing so much and you felt your stomach begin to ache, clutching it carefully.

Your arms barely fit in his sweater, with him giving it to you because it was cold, and all you could smell was his musk, which was half the reason your cheeks were pink; but you wouldn't admit that.

You were just friends.

However, once you first put it on, he told you it looked good on you.

"Really?" you replied, genuinely surprised by his answer. "Barely fits me, you're huge!"

"Yeah. It looks better on you than me." he replied, a sense of compassion in his voice which set your heart alight, your mind screaming and your smile widening.

You wipe a tear from your eye as he ends up falling off the chair from laughing too hard, making you wheeze. The room is full of the happiness you both had, the connection you both shared was intensely strong right now.

But you couldn't say anything to him about how you felt, nothing at all.

You were just friends.

You saw a head peak round the door corner, wondering what all the noise was about only to see the famous Mohawk everyone recognised; Soap. He walked in the room chuckling to see Ghost on the floor wiping tears from his red eyes and you clutching your stomach.

"Ay, what's 'appended? Has Y/N finally kicked yer ass?" he asks in an amusing tone to which you shake your head, trying to compose yourself until Ghost grabs your wrist and pulls you down with him; if one suffers, both suffer.

You land with a thud on top of him and grunt in pain, then begin laughing just as hysterically as he is. Both in tears at this point, Soap shrugs and smirks.

"You two can't not be dating, ay that's his sweater too!" Soap pointed to your sweater you wore, it being Ghost's, and winked, raising his eyebrows comically.

"No, no. We aren't dating, mate. Go eat some haggis or somethin'." Ghost proclaims, shooing him out the room to which he does the whistle and shuts the door.

You wanted to protest; why aren't you dating? You wanted to love him so bad and have it reciprocated.

But you can't.

You were just friends.

Another knock on the door came with the voice of Price booming through.

"Get out, lovebirds. New recruit, come meet 'er."

You raise your eyebrows and scramble off of Ghost, standing up and you begin taking the sweater off, but you heard his voice speak.

"Keep it, it's fine." he says, a smile noticeable through his words. "It ticks off my present list early."

You hit his arm and roll your eyes, walking side by side to the meeting room to meet the new recruit. Did Price say "her"? You recon he did; it would be nice for some more female company within the force.

You both enter the room, pushing on the doors and taking seats next to each other, still a bit giggly from a couple minutes before. Both slouching and attacking each other's feet - as you both loved doing footsies - eager to meet the new recruit. The door opened with Price leaving it open for her. Ghost's eyes went from your feet to the door, then he sat up slightly. You looked back at him and furrowed your eyebrow, but his attention was on her.

She was perfect. Curly hair that reflected the dull light like beams of sunshine. Big eyes with gorgeous eyelashes, smooth skin and a gorgeous smile, perfect teeth. She was a good height, a curvy body but still all the right proportions. She looked like someone out of a movie, she was... beautiful. She's Heather.

Your heart sank, it sank deep into your chest and hid away in your aching rib cage. She waved hi and spoke her name and a short introduction. Even her voice was perfect. Compared to you, she was the idol crush of every man. She walked around the table and took a seat opposite Ghost, you watched his eyes follow her as she walked and even sat.

What a site for sore eyes, you thought. He looked like he was starved and had just been fed only by looking at her. Even if you tapped his foot he ignored it, a permanent mark left. Another tap, no response.

A sigh left your mouth. Why do you care so much? You aren't dating, you can't control him. You can't prevent him from looking at people nor talking to people, even liking people. But oh, how it hurt.

How it hurt to be just friends.