Call of Desire

25. Malaise

ma·laise
/məˈlāz,məˈlez/
noun
a general feeling of discomfort, illness, or uneasiness whose exact cause is difficult to identify.

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There was no heating. In the van, anyhow. Captain Price ended up finding it across the airfield. 

Ghost and Soap had taken up residence in the back seat, cuddled against one another. 'To conserve warmth,' Simon had muttered at Price. Nikolai was driving, of course, with the Captain in the passenger seat. Gaz had fallen asleep in the centre seat, his hat over his eyes. John had chuckled to himself when he realised that Kyle had brought his fucking baseball cap all the way to Russia instead of a hat that would keep him warm. 

Simon had an insulated mask, lined with flannel. Custom-made, skull printed on the front. John thought it was cute. 

The Scotsman had brought a navy beanie, covering only half his ears. He had also taken after Ghost slightly, covering his nose and mouth with a balaclava he had cut the top off of. 

Simon stared out the window of the van, watching the empty countryside fly by. 

"How long until we're in Moscow?" Soap asked, sensing Simon's impatience. 

"Eight hours or so." Nikolai exhaled, dreading being stuck behind the steering wheel for another eight hours. 

"Let me know when you want a break, Nik." Price subtly reached over and squeezed Nik's free hand. "I can drive."

"Can you read Russian, Captain?"

Price glanced at him. "No?"

The Russian chuckled to himself. "You need to be able to read signs."

"Then teach me."

"You want me to teach you Russian?"

"Yes."

Nik hesitated, considering his options. "Fine." He pointed out the windshield as they approached a sign.

"The first word there. Москва. That's Moscow. The number next to it. That's how far away we are in kilometres. At the moment, we're 689 kilometres away." 

"Alright," Price acknowledged, committing that to memory. 

"I'm assuming you know how signs work?" Nik joked, poking at Price.

"Nope, never seen one before," the Captain chuckled, holding Nik's hand yet again. "Just let me know when you get tired, alright?"

The Russian smiled softly, enjoying the soft touch. "Alright." 

Gaz, having overheard the conversation, also smiled. He glanced back at Ghost and Soap. John had fallen asleep on Simon's shoulder again, and again, Simon stared a hole through Kyle's head when he realised the man was watching. Gaz gave him a joking grin, shaking his head as he attempted to go back to sleep. 

He felt... he felt a bit sorry for himself, really. He wanted to know the gentle touch of a lover, to be able to fall asleep with his head resting on their shoulder. Instead, his baseball cap rested on his face, blocking out what little light came through the windows of the van. The baseball cap hid the sorrow in his eyes and the dissatisfaction on his face. 

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"Price," Nik muttered, accidentally waking everyone. "Can you drive? I'm about dead."

"Mm? Yeah. Yeah. Pull over." The Captain yawned, stretching as the van came to a stop on the side of the road. Both men exited the vehicle and switched sides, Price settling himself in the driver's seat. Nik collapsed in the passenger's, sighing. 

"Moscow, Moscow..." Price mumbled, pulling back onto the road. "230 kilometres..." 

"Wake me up when you get closer to the city." Nikolai sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back in his seat. 

Exhaling, Soap cuddled further into Ghost. The larger man wrapped an arm around John's shoulders, rubbing his arm. 

"You okay?" The Brit asked, only loud enough for John to hear. 

"Yeah."

"Don't lie to me."

Instead of responding, Soap took Ghost's free hand in his own and squeezed gently. 

"Oh, Johnny..." Simon sighed, pulling the Scotsman closer to him. "I'm here, my love."

"Don't let go."

"You know I won't." 

"Are you doing okay?"

"I'm worried. A bit pissed that Price didn't think we'd make it out of here, and therefor didn't plan for an exfil." He sighed. "I'm- I'm scared. I'm scared that I'm gonna fuck this up and get you killed."

"If anyone's getting me killed, it's me." John smiled, his words forcing a chuckle from Simon. 

"If we- When we make it out of this, I'm going to spoil you." Simon smiled under his mask. "I'm going to take you out to an expensive dinner, buy you flowers, fuck you, cuddle you after, and fuck you again."

"Mm, sounds good. But, instead of champagne, can we have rum? Champagne tastes like sour tv static, can't stand it."

"Whatever you'd like, Johnny." Ghost exhaled, his stress decreasing. "What's your favourite flower? Do you have one?"

"Orange tiger lilies. They look like tiny explosions." Beaming, John allowed himself to feel safe. "What about you?"

"Uh... bat orchids are kinda cool looking." Ghost stammered. "They look like little monsters. It's cute."

"You're cute."

"Ah, fuck off." 

John smiled. 

"You feel any better?" Simon kissed the side of Soap's head through his mask. 

"Yeah."

"You wanna try and get some sleep, my love?"

"Only if you do too." John looked up at Simon. 

"Fine."

The two didn't even both trying to hide the fact that they were cuddling. John was practically in Simon's lap, their arms around each other. Soap had tucked his head into the crook of Ghost's neck, the Brit resting his head against Soap's. 

"I'll be at your side until the end, Johnny." Ghost muttered. "Don't forget that."

"I won't, how could I? You keep cuddling me and loving me and shit." John chuckled. 

"Oh, shut up and sleep," Simon smiled.

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aaaaa sorry for late chapter

I've had no motivation to do any writing ;-;