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It was an unspoken rule for the men of the 141 to regroup at the end of each day. Never needing to mean much, it could be as simple as heading to the mess together, staying late in an old conference room to divide and conquer the never ending stack of paperwork, or piling into one of their room simply because they didn’t want the conversations to end.
Or, on nights like tonight, they’d find themselves sitting around the rickety wooden table in the common room. Cards in their hands, drinks at the ready, and wagers to win.
The sun had set hours ago, leaving a dim, flickering lightbulb as their only source of light in the small room. A radio– some old, busted relic of Price’s– was stuck playing classic rock quietly in the background. The captain always claimed it was his favorite station, despite everyone knowing that the thing was too broken to switch to anything else, anyway.
Part of Ghost was convinced that Price was the only one who tuned into the station, but he’d let it slide. Glad that it provided ambient background noise as the men played throughout the overall uneventful evening.
That was, until Ghost dealt out the fourth hand. Their liquor had long since run dry, and the sergeants were finishing up an…interesting rendition of ‘Dream On’ by Aerosmith along with the radio. They swayed as the outro came and went, and bowed to the echo of clapping.
“Alright, alright, boys,” Price started. “Would you sit back down? Not sure how many more noise complaints I can keep pushing off for you two screech owls,” he grumbled, despite the men seeing a clear grin on his face.
It was about time to start the round, everyone taking a peak at what they were dealt, when-
“-prize to our 100th caller this week-” the radio murmured in the background.
“Ghost, turn it up,” Price instructed. It earned him a grumble, but Ghost did what he was told, leaning his chair on its back two legs as he stretched out to reach the volume knob in a practiced motion. The station was constantly doing gimmicky giveaways, and one of Price’s vices happened to be that he heard out each one— despite never winning a dime.
“That’s right,” the host continued, “keep your listening ears open, because for the next week we’ll be randomly pausing our scheduled program and opening up our phones lines. Give us a call to get one step closer to being our lucky winner. We’ll keep going until we’ve reached our 100th caller, who will receive an all-expenses paid beach vacation for them and their family. We’ll be counting every call, so stay tuned, and don’t miss your chance!“
Soap was the first to speak up, slapping Price on the back as he leaned in, “Oh this is perfect, Cap. You need to enter!”
“Tav is right, sir,” Gaz said, “No one needs a break more than you.”
“I suppose it would be nice to take my family somewhere nice, yeah?” Price admitted as he brought his cigar to his lips.
Oh.. The comment took all three other men by surprise, exchanging a quick glance at the rare mention of Price’s family. Sure, he’d bring them up occasionally, like that time when his parent’s anniversary came up and he spent the afternoon locked in a phonemail with them. Or when his sister and her kids decided to visit around the holidays a few years ago. But he didn’t just…do things with them. Let alone step away from work for things like vacations.
If Price said he wanted it, though? Then dammit, the team would make it happen.
“We’ll help too,” Ghost confirmed, looking to the other men, who nodded enthusiastically. “Raise your odds a bit more, yeah?”
And thus began: The Week to Win.
—————————
{ 1. }
On the first day of the giveaway, Ghost found himself in the mess, shoveling eggs in his mouth while listening to the radio station through an old pair of wired earbuds. Part of him couldn’t believe he had agreed to this, but considering he usually began his mornings with a podcast, it wasn’t too different to keep an ear out for the next call opportunity instead. After all, he caught the way the captain seemed to visibly light up at the suggestion of vying for the trip. To him, it was worth it.
“So,” a voice suddenly crooned behind Ghost, the only warning he received before a hand yanked out one earbud and a body slid into the chair next to him. “How would you use it?”
To Ghost’s credit, he was entirely too unfazed by the sudden outburst, his attention instead focused on the song fading out in his ear. The announcer had said that the calling periods would be random throughout the day, so every transition between songs could mean another opportunity to win. And he was determined to be there when it happened.
Satisfied once the next song began, Ghost turned to the new companion— Soap— that was now sitting next to him. They had the place mostly to themselves, the typical breakfast rush not coming for another hour or so. While it wasn’t necessarily abnormal for him to get such an early start to his day, it happened to be bad dreams that had him unwilling to lay and rest for longer. Leaving him in a… rather unenthusiastic mood to socialize with most people right now. Keyword, most.
“You’re going to have to be more specific, Johnny.”
“The radio giveaway,” Soap provided instantly, like it should have been obvious what he was referencing. He plucked a few neglected sausages off of the lieutenant’s plate and popped them into his mouth, leaning into Ghost’s space enough that the man could smell his aftershave. A scent that immediately worked to soothe the grievances that had been building up in him all morning. “If you won the trip, what would you do?”
Ghost shrugged as he took a sip of water. “ ‘m giving it to Price, if I win. No reason to do anything else.”
“Ach, that’s not what I meant,” Soap tisked, nudging into Ghost’s side. “Of course we’d give it to Cap. But hypothetically, if you won the chance some other way, what would you spend your vacation doing?”
To Simon, that was a loaded question on a good day. Time off had never sat well with him, usually resulting in him sitting in an empty flat for days on end as he tried his best to find a level of comfort that would never come.
He didn’t expect a beach vacation to be any different. While it was a trip that he would have killed to go on as a child,— being able to build sandcastles and explore the ecosystem underneath the far-off waves, alone— now, the beach just meant too much skin showing.
He knew he’d scare kids with his scars. Even if he covered up from head to toe, it’d just make him look like he belonged on a wanted list. No. He wouldn’t willingly find himself on a beach again unless a mission called for it.
“Work on my tan, probably, ” he decided to say in the end. Echoing a conversation they had many months ago when tracking down Milena.
“You’re telling me you wouldn’t like the chance to be-” Ghost held up a finger to cut Soap off, passing an earbud to him as the radio show’s host came back on.
“Get those phones out, because the first round of giveaway calls starts now! The number is-”
Immediately, the men got to work dialing. Holding their phones by their ears as they waited for someone to pick up. Eventually,-
“I was third,” Ghost huffed as he hung up.
“Yeah? I got seventh,” Soap bumped his fist to the mans shoulder, both men digging back into breakfast.
This was going to take a while.
—————————
{ 2. }
“What about you, Garrick?”
The question was posed over the roar of the plane’s engines, in-between the 141 flying out to a drop-off site. They had managed to convince Price to let them play the radio station through the speakers, at least until they crossed into hostile territory.
“You too, now?” Gaz huffed at Ghost’s question. Ever since the other night, it was as if every conversation circled back to the damn vacation giveaway. Who could blame them, when it was the most interesting thing that had happened in a while? Everyone was excited about the idea of getting this gift for their captain, a small way of showing how much he meant to them all.
“Ah,” Gaz conceded after a moment, rubbed the back of his neck, “You know my family doesn’t travel much, I doubt they’d be into it. And they’ve been so busy they’ve been lately…”
Ghost frowned, not meaning to force the man into bringing them up. Busy was a bit of an understatement. He knew that Gaz’ family tried to show up where they could…but that didn’t stop them from being the most flakey people he had ever met. Sure, they video-called frequently, perhaps more often than they should, but it was different than attending something in-person. And they all knew it.
Since Gaz had been with the 141, they’ve made it onto base for exactly one event, which was the ceremony the brass held after they took Hassan down. Gaz clearly loved getting to give them the tour of the place and introducing them to everyone, but that was just it - one occasion.
They’d always send postcards, too. And though Ghost knew it wasn’t meant to rub salt in the wound, probably acting as an ‘I’m thinking of you’, the wistful look Gaz often gave them when he thought no one was looking, suggested a different message.
It was part of the reason Ghost and the rest of the 141 made sure they were at every one of Gaz’ events and ceremonies, no matter how small. Not like they wouldn’t have been there anyway, of course. But making the point to stand in when his other loved ones couldn’t? Seeing Gaz’ face light up as they stood in the audience never failed to tug at Ghost’s heart.
Suddenly, the plane jostled from turbulence, pulling Ghost from his thoughts as the radio cut out for a few moments. Only turning back on once the plane settled, to the tune of “Don’t Fear The Reaper,” by Blue Oyster Cult. He found himself tapping his foot along with the music as Gaz continued.
“Anyway, i’d still make the most of it. Find somewhere populated, hop in on a volleyball game or two, maybe a bit of sunbathing. Just see where the week takes me,” he nudged Soap’s arm with his own, throwing him a wink.
Soap rolled his eyes. “Sounds more like you’re just there to show off.” He tossed a stray MRE pack at the other man, which was promptly caught and tossed back at him.
“Well, when you’re as good as me?” Gaz stretched both hands behind his head comically, flexing at his captive audience.
Across the way, Ghost scoffed as he leaned into Soap’s space. “You know what, Johnny? I’ll change my answer from yesterday. If i won, i’d spend my time playing against Gaz.”
“Oi,-”
“Hey, why am i not invit-“
“It’s that time again, folks,” The radio cut both sergeants off, “Our station is now accepting calls.”
“I’m going to go talk to the pilot,” Price mumbled, clearly trying to separate himself from any responsibility as the other men drew out their SAT phones— a very dubious use of their mission-only devices,— and rang in.
They followed the same process, all men waiting anxiously for someone to speak up.
“24th,” Gaz called out first.
“28th,” Ghost echoed shortly after.
“Fuckin buttons,” Soap muttered as he was still trying to dial, humming once he received the hold music. Then- “36th!”
“Boys, prepare to drop in,” Price’s voice rang out ounce the speaker, shutting off the music for good. The men instantly snapped into soldier mode, collectively beginning to suit up and perform last minute checks. Well, at least they were able to squeak in another round.
“You tell your family they’re going on a trip yet?” Soap couldn’t help but call out as the cargo door started to draw open.
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, son.”
——————————
{ 3. }
The sun was low in the sky, where Soap and Gaz stood overlooking the obstacle course below. They were tasked with running the recruits’ training for the day, and it seemed- hours in- like they were finally slowing down.
“Run it from the beginning,” Soap shouted to the teams below, immediately popping his earbud back in so he didn’t have to hear the groans of protest that were sure to follow. That, and he was determined to catch the calling period again today.
Gaz was no better off, staring in the opposite direction as he concentrated on the voice in his ear. Once he was sure that another song was coming up, he turned to Soap.
“What about you, Tav? Figured out what you’d do with a prize like this yet?”
Soap just raised an eyebrow at him. “Suppose it’d end up a lot like yours.”
“What, with no one wanting to go?”
“Oh they’d love to go on a free vacation. Problem is, there’s too many of us, ye know? We used to have this tradition of going camping at least once a summer, always out on a late somewhere. And we’d swim, and run, and play until my parents threatened to leave without us when we wouldn’t come in for the night…,” he trailed off.
“Now Fiona’s married, and won’t even consider going anywhere until the twins are a little older. Isla’s off abroad somewhere finishing up another degree, and it takes ages for her to plan her trips back home, and my mam just started this new painting class twice a week, and-“
“It’s a hassle finding a time that works for them all,” Gaz surmised.
“Yeah,” Soap breathed out.
“For what it’s worth, you can join Ghost and me on our fake getaway,” Gaz’ offered, his eyes softening. “Our teams will be uneven, but we’ll play singles and you can sub in once I win.”
“Who said you’d be the winner, Garrick?” Ghost suddenly spoke behind them.
Soap made a noise that was definitely not a screech, and leaned over to put his hands on his knees. “Quiet fuckin’ bastard,” he grumbled as his heart tried to slow down from the scare. But right as he was about to talk-
“Get ready, folks-“
The sound of the announcer’s voice hit Soap and Gaz at the same time, both men immediately locking eyes as they raced to pull out their phones. Ghost cursed next to them, catching onto what was happening as he went to dial the now familiar number.
It was at that time when the recruits started to trek back up to them again.
“Course complete, sirs,” One of the private addressed, “Permission to-“
“Switch partners and do it again,” Ghost snapped, cutting the soldier off. “Go, go, go.” The command worked, with the unexpected presence of the Lieutenant having the recruits immediately running the way they came.
Gaz couldn’t help but laugh at the way Ghost handled it all. “Price is going to have a field day when he hears what we’ve been doing. You know that, right?”
“Just focus on bloody winning,” Soap taunted. Then- “72nd! See, beat ya.”
“73rd,” Gaz echoed a second too late.
Ghost muttered to himself for a moment, before reluctantly saying, “81st. Looks like tomorrow might be the day.”
One could only hope.
——————————
{ +1 }
At the end of the week, the 141 found themselves back in the room where it started. Packed into the common room around the same small table with the flickering overhead light, they were just starting to pull out the familiar deck of cards.
This time, without request, Ghost leaned his chair back to click on the old ratty radio. They had long since lost track how many times they called in throughout the week, ending up doing so during and moment that they had- whether free or otherwise. Trainings, briefings, and strange hours of the night we’re all free game, and though Price might have told them to knock it off once or twice— or a few dozen— but it was about to all be worth it.
Soap grabbed at the card pack in the middle of the table and began shuffling. “Tonight could be the night, you know.”
“Look, boys,” Price sighed around his cigar, “I appreciate the work you’ve put into this, even if its distracting you from your real work, but I’ll be fine without this.” At the mouths that all suddenly opened to defend his much needed time off, he held up a finger and continued, “What I’m saying is don’t get your hopes up, ’s all.”
Gaz pulled his cards into his hand as Soap dealt, letting out a whistle as he glanced at what he had, “Oh, they’re up, Cap.”
“Well, one way or the other, we’ll make sure you get the vacation,” Ghost said in a monotone voice. His eyes didn’t lift from the table, too focused on making sure the dealing was fair.
Price raised his eyebrow as he gave a questionable look to the man. “Do I even want to know what that means, Lieutenant?” He asked eventually, sighing fondly.
“Could this be the last time? Could we find our winner within the next few minutes? Give us-” The radio host cut in suddenly.
“This is it! Remember to stagger your calls this time,” Soap announced as he dialed. Gaz and Ghost pausing before following suit.
“Help us out this time?” Gaz asked, looking at Price before tossing him his phone. For a moment, there was silence as the men worked to secure their spot in line. Then-
“I got 88,” Soap groaned. “C’mon, this has to be it.”
Gaz slouched down in his chair in defeat as he hung up. “93rd.”
“No go, 96th,” Ghost said.
All at once, the three men all turned to look at Price, who was still holding the phone to his ear. “Mhm,” Price muttered, “Yeah, that fine, thank you.” He hung up with a final click.
“And?”
Price broke out into a big grin. “The 100th caller.”
A chorus of whoops and hollers immediately echoed through the room, cards all but forgotten as the men launched themselves in Price’s direction.
Appearing at his spot beside Price, Ghost tisked, “See old man? You didn’t even need us anyway.”
“Go tell your family the good news,” Soap suggested, smiling so hard his cheeks were warming up.
Alright,” Price laughed, standing up and clearing his throat. “I’ll work with setting up the logistics tonight, but I expect you all to have your bags packed tonight. We’ll be leaving at 0600 sharp.”
Wait, what?
If the other barracks inhabitants somehow missed the outburst before, they certainly didn’t now. Not with the absolutely chaos that erupted as the three men tried to figure out Price’s intentions. All spewing out ‘sir?’ and ‘what are you on about?’
“Who else would I bring?” Price questioned once the noise had died down. “I thought for sure you all had caught on by now, no?”
They sat in stunned silence for a moment, before Soap spoke up. “You’re really taking us with you sir?”
“I wouldn’t want it any other way. You all deserve this trip even more than I do— don’t let that go to your head,” Price cut out, jutting a finger in the sergeants direction.
Soap held up his hands in surrender. “Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”
“You’re certain you wouldn’t rather take someone else, Price?” Ghost offered, like he was giving him an out.
“Simon,” Price started, “when was the last time I willingly volunteered to spend time with my sister? My parents? I love them, but if I say i’d rather spend time with you lot, then you better know I mean it. Understood?”
“Crystal.”
“Now, pack your bags. We have a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”
——————————
Not even 24 hours later, Ghost and the rest of the 141 touched down at a touristy beach somewhere along the coast.
The first thing he noticed was how loud it all was. There were people scattered everywhere, it seemed— children chasing each other across the sand, friends sprawled out on towels with drinks in their hands, many, many games of frisbee going on at once.
It shouldn’t have hit Ghost so hard, to see what he expected to, but it was…overwhelming, to say the least. Just as he contemplated turning back around, though, he felt a hand slip into his own and squeeze.
He looked up to see Soap already looking back at him, a soft blush spreading across his cheeks. Cute.
“Alright boys,” Price addressed as he and Gaz joined up with them at the beach’s edge. “The hotel has been take care of. Soap, you’re on finding an area to claim, Gaz, you’re on dinner plans, and Ghost is in charge of what time we leave. Everyone know their roles?”
Three ‘sir, yes, sir’s’ erupted in perfect synchronization around them.
“Then you have your missions. Now, go enjoy yourselves! I’ll be on the dock out there if anyone needs me.”
Immediately, the three men took off towards the beach— all apparently having the same idea to beeline towards an empty volleyball net. Did it belong to someone else? Most definitely. But when you see three grown men barreling towards it, pushing and shoving each other off balance to try to get their first? It was probably better for everyone to just let the have a few turns.
Price couldn’t help but laugh as he watched the scene play out in front of him. Tension finally rolling off of his shoulders as they continued to interact together, confirmation that his men were finally letting go and enjoying themselves.
It made the lie worth it.
Truthfully, Price planned to take the fact that he didn’t win the giveaway to his grave. They had just been so determined this week, so unified in the way they made sure to stay alert for every single chance to call. Just for the chance to give their captain and his family some ‘well-deserved’ time away together.
Well, Price thought, looking out at his boys as they played a—frankly aggressive— match together. But it was done with laughs and smiles pulling at their faces. Did it really hurt to tell a small fib of who was paying for the trip, when they were already having so much fun? Everyone could see how hard they had been working lately, how tense everyone was with each mission they returned back from. If all Price could offer was a week long reprieve from it all?
Yeah, his family deserved this.