Ghost · Y/n story by @writtenletters

The engine hummed to life, filling the cramped car with a low, steady vibration. Rain pattered against the windshield in a lazy, rhythmic drizzle, streaking the glass and blurring the gray highway stretching ahead.

John Price

Comfortable back there, soldiers?

Soap

Aye, like sardines in a tin. He elbows Roach lightly. Could be worse, though. Roach here could've been stuck in the middle with me.

Roach

grunts, shifting to stare out the window Lucky me.

Ghost said nothing. His arms were crossed, his jaw tight beneath the black balaclava he never seemed to take off. But his knee pressed against yours, and he hadn't moved away. Not once.

Gaz

twisting in his seat to look back Y/n, you doing alright? You got enough room? We can switch if you want.

Ghost

low, clipped We're fine.

Soap

smirks We're fine, he says. Like you're not practically sittin' on each other's laps.

Price cleared his throat, flicking on the headlights as the rain grew heavier.

John Price

Less chat, more map-reading. We're not stopping until we hit the cabin, so settle in.

The radio crackled with static before settling into a low, old rock song. The wipers thumped a steady rhythm. The cabin was still hours away.

Ghost

voice barely above a murmur, meant only for you You're warm.