Work Text:
Unfortunately for Weka, he had fallen behind his comrades as they raided the enemy territory. He can already imagine the shit-eating grins, the angry ranting and the disappointed sighs of the others if they were ever to find out that a private had injured him. Weka had just recovered from a rough sparring with a rookie; one in five always took things too far, as they didn’t understand how to go about it. This one was simply an ass about it. There have been a couple of female rookies who went too hard because they had something to prove to the other men. But when the young male rookies did so, it was because they were a fuckwit.
Weka groaned, feeling his chest tighten as a wheezing sound escaped his lips. Much to Weka’s dismay, he realised that the wheezing sound was coming from himself and not a faulty pipe in the rundown post-industrial building. The realisation caused the anger and embarrassment of being put in this situation to rise.
“Fucksake, Weka! Keep up!” Price snapped, his voice echoing through the dimly lit alleyway as he glanced back to see Weka lagging. The urgency in Price's tone cut through Weka’s momentary haze of discomfort.
Weka cursed under his breath, burying the discomfort to the best of his abilities before speeding up to be with the others. “Sorry, Captain!” he called out, the strain in his voice obvious but ignored by the others as the mission was more important.
“Don’t apologise! Focus!” he barked, his command leaving no space for Weka’s injuries in that moment.
Weka bit back his irritation, though, like the wheezing, the want to snap at Price was scratching up his throat. But he redirected this agitation to paying attention to his surroundings as he kept up with his team. He looked left and right, checking on his surroundings to make sure that–
An enemy soldier jumped into the periphery of his vision out of seemingly nowhere. He sees the barrel of the opposition's gun pointed at Ghost. In that moment, Weka shoved him over, so he instead took the bullet to the forearm instead of Ghost taking it to the chest. Gaz had their back, finishing off the enemy cleanly.
“Fucks sake, Weka!” Ghost snapped at Weka as Weka tried his best to stop the angry, hot tears thanks to the rage and agony pulsing through him. “You’re a fucking idiot!” he shouted.
“Pipe down and focus!” Price ordered, everyone quieted down and returned to the mission at hand.
Weka seethed silently as they continued down the post-industrial and rundown building. No one bothered to ask after Weka’s well-being, because there was more to worry about right now. On the mission, everything was bigger than a singular soldier; everything was bigger than the entire damn team, as long as the mission was progressing towards completion. The health and well-being of soldiers were easily disregarded if they left no impact on that goal.
Weka, now stitched up, stumbled into the changing room. He didn’t care for the four sets of eyes on his battered body as he stumbled into one of the communal showers with a trail of thrown-away gear and clothes following him. He made the mistake of standing under the showerhead when he turned it on, and the cold water hit him harshly. He shivered and gagged at the discomfort.
Gaz, Soap and Price looked at one another, concerned at the flurry of mess that Weka had left behind himself, as Ghost cleaned up after him. Soap took off his boxers and brought his ditty bag to Weka’s cubicle. He always broke the ice first when any of them were in a mood. “Hey, mate. Mind if I join ya?” he asked, not waiting for an answer. “Ya didn’t bring any soaps with ya.”
“Is that supposed to be a joke, Johnny?”
“Huh?”
Weka sighed and continued facing the wall as he used the communal bar of soap on his body. The water had heated up, allowing marginal relief to his aching joints and the variety of bruises along his body.
Soap stilted Weka’s cleaning by wrapping his arms loosely around his waist. “Dove, yee did so good out there…” he murmured into his shoulder blade, kissing the freckles, bruises and scars along his skin.
“Dude, this isn’t subtle. Piss off. What if one of the rookies catches us?” Weka stresses as he picks at his chapped lips.
Soap shakes his head, squeezing Weka’s waist, trying to soothe those concerns that constantly rattled in his head. “Aye, this ain’t subtle. But all the rookies have already been through ‘ere. Just me and you… Also, the other three, I guess.”
Gaz opened the curtain with a scowl, also butt-naked. “You Scottish twat. You’re hogging him all to yourself again!” he snapped, invading the cubicle.
Weka grumbled as the two who had invaded his personal space began to bicker as if he were some stuffed animal. He quickly scrubbed at the grime on his forearms and neck so that he could leave this cramped, unnerving cubicle as soon as possible.
“Weka! Don’t leave, Dove! I wanted to help clean yee,” the Scotsman called after the other, completely forgetting his bickering with Gaz. But Weka didn’t look back, just continued towel at his hair as he made his way over to his pile of bloodstained gears.
He picked up the shirt and shook his head unhappily as his clean skin came in contact with the sticky material. He’s just going to have to stomach this, serves him right for not bringing a change of clothes. Damn, he’s gonna have to have a second shower later. Maybe after dinner or–
“Oi, Weka. Here.” Ghost chucks a hoodie at the other, along with a clean pair of boxer briefs. He nodded in response and quickly got dressed in the borrowed clothes. The hoodie, which was snug on Ghost, was baggy on the other. Not because Weka was short, but his frame was no where near as bulky as Ghost’s, Weka was probably the most lithe out of all five of them. The boxer briefs were also more like shorts on Weka, with absolutely no support.
“You gonna be out for dinner, Weka?” Price asked; he hasn’t quite destressed yet, so his authoritative tone was still heavy.
Weka shook his head and signed that he was tired.
Price nodded. “Where ya gonna be?”
Weka shrugged in response, pointing at himself.
Price hummed, shaking his head. “We’ll eat dinner in my room,” he declared. He looked up at Ghost and saw him nod in acknowledgment, not bothering with the other two, they were clearly over their bickering and were being much more friendly in the cubicle.
Weka was blissfully stretched out on the large mattress of the captain’s quarters as he peacefully read one of the novels that Gaz had all but forced upon him. It was good, no work of art, but he understood why Gaz loved this story. The novel was a romance novel exploring queerness in sports; many of the themes and struggles in the book were parallel to those of their own shared relationship in the military.
“Hey, darling,” Price murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the other’s forehead as he placed two plates of food on the bedside drawers. He saw the title that Weka was reading and groaned, “Oh, god. Has that idiot also got you hooked on these damn hockey players?”
“Just because you like reading nonfiction doesn’t mean everything else is automatically shit, mate,” Weka grumbled, putting the book down and giving a quick peck to Price, who was happy to see that Weka was verbal again. “Also, it’s a pretty good story. It’s very similar to us five, I’d say.”
Price shook his head. “Weka, you read those damn picture books. You can’t even finish the first chapter of a regular book—” He noticed the bookmark sticking out from between the pages. It was the furthest Price had ever seen Weka in a book that he wasn’t forced to read. “Holy shit. I can’t believe Gaz actually got you reading, lad.”
Weka rolled his eyes. “First, manga and comics aren’t picture books. Second, I read all the time. And third, you’re an asshole.”
Price nodded thoughtfully as he climbed onto the bed beside Weka, the soft creak of the mattress underscoring the tension in the air. “Yeah, you’re right about me being an ass. I really am sorry—”
Weka waved a hand dismissively, a teasing smirk playing on his lips. “Piss off, Price. I don’t take it personally on the field.” The way he said it was light-hearted, but there was an underlying sincerity to his words that Price couldn’t help but appreciate.
“But you were already injured because of that new guy. I shouldn’t have let you come,” Price replied, a note of concern lacing his voice as he looked deep into Weka’s eyes.
“Jeez, John. You think I’m weak now?” Weka teased, his tone playful, pulling Price closer and peppering soft kisses along his jawline. Each kiss sent a flutter through Price as he felt Weka’s warmth against him.
Shaking his head, Price countered earnestly, “Never.” The truth was, he admired Weka’s tenacity, even when it bordered on reckless.
Weka giggled, the sound brightening the room, and then turned away from Price to pick up his plate. The aroma wafting through the air was comforting and familiar: bangers and mash, a classic dish that always reminded him of home. He appreciated how Price had piled extra helpings of mashed potatoes and green peas onto his plate, while Price’s own served as a hearty mound of sausages and gravy.
“The boys will be here shortly after they finish their meals,” Price explained, handing Weka his plate. “Soap will be late because he forgot to finish his report,” he explained. “Is that okay, or will everyone ‘ere be too much—”
“John, it’s more than fine,” Weka replied, beaming as he took the plate. “I love being with you guys.”
But Price couldn’t help but feel a twinge of annoyance when Weka casually slipped the word love into conversation. He huffed, shaking his head in mock exasperation. “You say that word too flippantly, Weka.”
“No else says it enough. Someone’s got to do the heavy lifting,” Weka shot back playfully, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Piss off and eat, Weka,” Price replied, unable to suppress a smile as he nudged Weka gently with his shoulder, before settling down next to him, their backs pressed against the headboard.
As the night crept upon them and the room got colder, Weka leaned back against Ghost, his body relaxing against him. The familiar sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall, punctuated by the familiar, boisterous voice of Soap.
“Uuugh, I absolutely despise paperwork!” Soap exclaimed, bursting into the room. His exasperation was comedic as he dramatically flopped onto the bed, sending the blankets into disarray and inadvertently winding Weka as the air rushed out of his lungs. Ghost growled at the sound of Weka struggling to catch his breath due to the other’s roughness.
Weka let out a groan, turning to shoot Soap a mock glare, a playful spark in his eyes. “You are such an idiot, you know that?” he teased, lifting a hand to ruffle Soap’s mohawk, still damp and spiky from his last shower. The playful jab was followed by a soft kiss planted on his head, a soothing gesture in the midst of Soap’s melodrama.
“I just want to snuggle my dolls and make sure you’re okay, Dove!” Soap pouted, kicking his feet in frustration as he sprawled out on the bed.
From his cozy spot behind Weka, Ghost had been quietly observing the interaction with an amused expression. As Soap’s antics continued, he softly grumbled, “You’re an idiot, Johnny.” He nuzzled against Weka’s neck, his breath warm against his skin, determined to steal Weka’s attention from Soap’s dramatics. It was a tender moment, a blend of comfort and affectionate teasing, his body naturally fitting against the contours of Weka's back.
“Yeah, well, you all still love me,” Soap argued with an arrogant flare to his tone. He smirked up at Weka, who indulged in his antics by pressing another kiss to his temple. Soap beamed afterwards. But then he noticed that something was missing, actually two things were missing.“Where’s Cap and Gaz at?”
“Last-minute call from Laswell, I think,” Weka murmured, pressing into Ghost more. Ghost seemed to appreciate the extra weight on his body with the soft rumble that Weka felt in response, almost as if he were purring.
“Seriously?!” the Scot shouted incredulously.
Weka chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, they’ll be back in a bit…” He was exhausted after everything that had occurred in the last 48 hours. He just wanted to be wrung out like a wet towel to remove some of the stress and tension within his muscles, then squeezed like a fidget toy.
Soap let out a deep, despondent groan, burying his face against the soft skin at the nape of Weka's neck. The warm scent of her hair and the soothing rhythm of her heartbeat made him acutely aware of what they were missing. "Dove," he murmured, his voice tinged with regret, "I really want all of us to be together right now. If I had just taken the time to finish my paperwork earlier, we could have been snuggled up together instead of being apart. I promise I’ll manage my time better from now on and get all my work done on schedule." His eyes sparkled with determination as he made this vow, desperately wanting to avoid a repeat of this situation.
A knowing smile played on Weka’s lips as he pressed a gentle kiss behind Soap’s ear. "No, you won’t," he replied, his tone soft yet teasing. It was a familiar exchange; everyone had heard some version of Soap's promises before. They understood that he had good intentions, but they also knew he struggled significantly with time management and often fell prey to procrastination.
Soa pulled away and looked up into Weka’s eyes, seeing the scraggly facial hair along his jaw from skipping his morning shave for three too many days, he huffed with a childish scowl. “Aye, but I wish I were able to.”
Weka chuckled and nodded along. “I know, man.”
“So unromantic, Dove,” Soap teased at the use of the casual and friendly term that Weka always used, flopping back into Weka’s chest and snuggling him. The extra weight brought Weka and Ghost more comfort, finally satiating their yearning to be squashed and grounded. Soap heard the sigh and looked up to the two. “Weighted blanket?”
“Fuck, yes,” Ghost grumbled. Weka gave a little happy hum at the thought.
Soap rose from his spot, the soft creak of the floorboards barely audible in the quiet of the room. He made his way over to Price’s closet, the familiar scent of cigarette smoke wafting out as he opened the door. Inside, he spotted the weighted blanket neatly folded on the top shelf. Price disdained the blanket; he often grumbled about its weight, claiming it made him feel overly warm during the night. When all five of them didn’t share his room, Price would always tuck it back into the closet, ensuring that it wouldn’t haunt his sleep alone.
Despite Price's disdain, the blanket was helpful to Ghost and Weka, who found comfort in its heavy embrace. They would nestle into its depths, creating a cozy cocoon that neither of them ever wanted to leave. It was ironic, Soap thought, how Price never uttered a complaint when Ghost and Weka were curled up under the blanket, seemingly accepting their affection for it without a hint of discontent. There was an unspoken understanding among them all, an unwritten rule that respect for each other’s comforts outweighed personal preferences, especially in moments shared together.
Ghost took the blanket from Soap, a soft hum of thanks rumbling from his chest before he shifted himself and Weka, who sat upon his lap, into a more comfortable position to lie down in. Weka rolled over, lying on Ghost, chest-to-chest. The weighted blanket was spread on top of them both, and Weka felt truly calm for once. He moaned at the relief he felt.
“Better you two?” The Scot asked, genuinely curious, wanting to help. When Weka had first brought his weighted blanket to Price’s room on a night they all shared, there was a little teasing from Gaz and Soap as it was strange to them. But over time, everyone had come to understand that this was something that helped Weka, and later on, Ghost discovered that it helped him too.
Weka gazed over at Soap, his eyes heavy with a sense of calm and contentment, as a soft hum escaped his lips—a melodic expression of gratitude. The gentle sound hung in the air, intertwining with the warmth of the moment. Meanwhile, Ghost tightened his embrace around Weka, pulling him closer with a protective instinct, as if to shield him from any lingering shadows. The atmosphere was filled with an unspoken bond, as Weka's appreciation resonated within the depths of their shared connection.
Later, Gaz and Price returned to the Captain’s quarters, finding Ghost’s large frame wrapped around their leaner partner as he snored like a truck. Weka was wheezing quietly out of his nose when he exhaled, but you couldn’t tell over the loud snores that emitted from Ghost. Soap sat next to them on the bed as he casually doomscrolled TikTok on the phone he had snuck into the barracks, ignoring the racket from the sleeping men next to him.
“How was the meeting?” Soap asked, speaking at a normal volume, knowing it wouldn’t wake the other two.
Gaz groaned, shucking off his trousers as he made his way to the bed. “Boring as always. How was your paperwork?” Gaz asked, carefully resting his body on the soft comforter.
“Don’t.”
Price chuckled at their interaction, his back facing them as he looked through his closet for some sweats to sleep in. It had been a long day for everyone, but unlike Weka, Soap and Gaz, Price couldn’t just sleep in whatever. Unfortunately, as a Captain of this squad, he was always haunted by the idea of something happening in the middle of the night that might leave him without time to get dressed. So he always tried to be semi-presentable whenever.
Price looked over at Ghost and saw that he was without his balaclava, typical for a day when so much had happened. Everything to do with Weka and just the mission itself had left a mental strain on the reserved man. When that happened, he struggled to be without the mask.
He made his way over to the bed and looked at the taller two of their little group, watching as they slept peacefully. Price sighed and pressed soft kisses to their heads. He was so thankful that he still had them. He was always good at compartmentalising work and his private life when he was on the job, but it left a strain whenever he finally had time to relax.
“You all alright after we left?” he asked Soap.
The Scotsman looked up from the silly TikTok that had him giggling and nodded. “Yeah. I mean, Ghost was all growly and territorial about Weka, and Weka was quiet, but they seem fine,” Soap responded. He was trying to bring some comfort to Price’s concerns, but his own concern creased into his eyebrows, which did nothing to ease it.
Gaz let out a hearty laugh, shaking his head as he shook off the fatigue from the long mission. “You know, Ghost is such a pitbull at times,” he remarked, a playful grin spreading across his face.
Soap, leaning against the wall with a smirk, shook his head in disagreement. “Nah, mate! He’s more like an overgrown kitty—just look at him all curled up, purring when he thinks no one is watching.”
Price, the ever-observant leader, chuckled softly at the lighthearted banter between his two team members. “Honestly, he’s more like a bear when you think about it. Are you hearing the racket he’s making as he snores? It’s like a grizzly in hibernation!”
Gaz raised an eyebrow, not missing a beat. “You’re not any better, Cap. I’m pretty sure you’re worse when it comes to the snoring, if you ask anyone here.”
Soap burst into a fit of laughter, thoroughly enjoying the exchange and the friendly jabs being tossed around. The camaraderie among the team was palpable, a welcome lightness after the intensity of their day’s work.
Just as they were on the verge of sinking into a comfortable silence, Weka let out a low groan and slowly raised his head, his eyes bleary with sleep. He stared up at Price with an expression that blended confusion and longing, his soft whines cutting through the stillness of the room, pleading for attention. With a gentle but insistent tug, he grabbed the hem of Price's shirt, pulling it down with surprising strength. The sudden movement managed to jolt Ghost from his slumber, causing him to blink blearily and shift as he awoke to the unexpected disturbance.
“Jeez, Darlin’. You got some strength,” Price laughed awkwardly as he was balancing himself above Ghost and Weka.
Weka, stretched his body with a loud yawn, squirming around like a baby. “Mmph, cuddles… I wanna cuddle pile…”
Price laughed at the other and flopped on top of them.