What's Ghost Like When He's Had A Few Too Many?

What's ghost like when he's had a few too many?

Anon this ask came at a great time. I was writing a very tipsy Ghost snippet and i decided to flesh it out a bit more and finish it up to answer here. Bit long so there's more under the cut but here's what I came up with:

The pub was dimly lit, warm, and humming with soft chatter. Outside, rain pattered against the windows, a steady rhythm that only added to the cozy atmosphere. The 141 had commandeered a snug corner, a mismatched set of chairs pulled around a sturdy wooden table. They were celebrating—a successful mission wrapped up and a few extra days of leave in the States, a rare moment to relax as a team.

Price nursed a whisky, leaning back in his chair, his hat resting on the table beside him. Soap and Gaz were deep in a debate about some football match, their voices animated, hands gesturing wildly. Ghost sat on the bench seat, mask firmly in place, sipping cautiously from a pint of lager.

Price knew better than to let Ghost’s quiet exterior fool anyone. Despite his size and the fearsome reputation that preceded him, Ghost was a complete lightweight when it came to drinking. It was something Price had discovered by accident years ago, a rare night off where Ghost had indulged a little too much. Since then, Price had made it his unofficial responsibility to keep an eye on him during team outings.

Tonight, though, Ghost seemed unusually relaxed. He’d already had three pints, which Price knew was about his limit, but when Soap shoved another drink his way, Ghost didn’t refuse. Price’s brow furrowed, but he let it slide. One night of letting loose wouldn’t hurt.

As the hours ticked by, Ghost’s behaviour started to shift. It began subtly enough. He leaned closer to the table, resting his forearms on it and nodding along to Soap’s increasingly ridiculous stories. Then came the touches. Ghost rested his hand briefly on Gaz’s shoulder as he laughed at one of his jokes, his grip lingering just a second too long. Gaz froze, then shot Soap a look of sheer bewilderment.

When Soap said something particularly absurd, Ghost reached out and pinched his cheek with a low chuckle. “You’re an idiot, Johnny,” he said, his voice lighter than usual. Soap’s eyes widened in mock horror, though the grin he wore betrayed his amusement.

“Fuckin' hell, LT. You’re touchy tonight,” Soap teased, leaning slightly closer as if testing his boundaries. Ghost didn’t push him away. Instead, he gave Soap a lazy shove that barely moved him.

“Don’t get used to it,” Ghost muttered, though there was no heat behind the words.

Gaz, emboldened by Soap’s success, nudged Ghost with his elbow. “Didn’t know you were such a cuddler, sir.”

Ghost turned to him, and for a moment, Gaz thought he’d crossed a line. But then Ghost slung an arm around his shoulders, pulling him into a side hug. “Don’t push your luck, Kyle,” he said, but the softness in his tone, and the use of his name, made Gaz grin.

Price, watching all this from his seat, felt a surge of amusement and something warmer. It wasn’t often Ghost let his guard down, and it wasn’t lost on him how much trust it took to do so, even after all these years.

By the time Ghost finished his fourth pint, he had switched seats with Gaz as the sergeants' debate continued, wanting no part in it. He was leaning heavily against Price’s side. His mask had come off somewhere in the haze of laughter and drink, revealing a face that was relaxed and uncharacteristically open.

“You alright there, Simon?” Price asked, his voice low and warm.

Ghost hummed in response, nuzzling slightly into Price’s neck. “You’re comfortable,” he mumbled, his words slurred but content.

Soap’s jaw dropped. “Did he just…?”

Gaz looked equally shocked but also thoroughly delighted. “I’m seeing it, but I still don’t believe it.”

“He’s had a few too many,” Price defended, though there was no mistaking the fondness in his tone. He shifted slightly to support Ghost’s weight, one arm coming around to rest at his waist. Ghost nestled closer, his breathing slowing as sleep crept in.

“You’ve got to admit,” Soap said, grinning, “it’s nice to see him like this. Kind of adorable, actually.”

Price rolled his eyes but didn’t argue. As Ghost’s head dipped against his shoulder, Price ran a hand gently through his hair, an instinctive gesture meant to soothe. Ghost let out a soft sigh, his body going completely limp as he fell asleep.

“Alright, boys,” Price said quietly. “Help me get him back to the house.”

“You’re not moving him,” Soap pointed out, gesturing to the way Ghost clung to Price like a barnacle. “He’s not letting go and he needs the sleep.”

Gaz leaned forward, grinning. “Come on, Cap, let him rest a bit longer. He looks… happy, you know? When do you ever see that?”

Soap nodded enthusiastically. “Aye, he’ll be dead embarrassed in the morning, but right now? Let ‘im have it.”

Price considered it for a moment, then sighed. “Fine. Few more minutes. But you two are carrying his kit back.”

As the conversation continued around him, Ghost stirred slightly, his brow furrowing as he shifted closer into Price’s warmth. His eyes blinked open briefly, and a flash of awareness crossed his face as he realised he was maskless and nestled against his captain.

He stiffened for a heartbeat, but then Price’s hand slid gently through his hair again, the soothing motion grounding him. “It’s alright, Simon,” Price murmured, voice low enough that only Ghost could hear.

The tension melted away. Ghost let out a soft sigh, his eyes fluttering closed as he settled back against Price’s shoulder. For a man who never let his guard down, he looked completely at ease.

Price gave it another few minutes before deciding it was time to move. “Right,” he said softly, shifting Ghost just enough to get them both to stand. Ghost murmured something incoherent but didn’t protest as Price kept an arm securely around his waist, guiding him towards the door.

As they gathered their things and prepared to leave, Soap and Gaz exchanged grins. They’d be teasing Ghost mercilessly about this come morning, but for now, they let the moment settle. Their lieutenant, who seemed carved from stone most days, had a softer side. And seeing it, even briefly, made the bond they shared as a team feel unbreakable.

Price, Ghost still nestled against him, led the way into the foggy night, a satisfied smile on his lips. For all the chaos they faced, moments like this made it all worthwhile.