Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x M!Reader

Two

"Where is the captain?", he ihr upset written all over his gave, Gaz stormed into the locker room of team 141.

He still held the paper in his hand, pressed so tightly that it crumpled.

With mild surprise, Soap lifted his head, who was in the process of pulling on a shirt. His eyes travelled over Kyle's face before he noticed the yellow sheet. Then he snorted.

"The captain is taking a round.", the Scotsman replied with a thick accent.

Gaz frowned.

"Civilian clothes?", he asked, glancing at his comrade. "Is the next mission undercover?"

Soap took a deep breath and sighed.

"No mission.", he replied, pulling a sports bag out of his locker.

Stunned, Gaz looked first at the bag and then at Soap, then at the bag again.

"Bloody hell, you too?", he asked.

The Scot shrugged, not really moved by that fact.

"Sometimes that's just the way it is.", he said and packed everything that wasn't part of his military equipment into the bag.

Gaz gritted his teeth.

"Shit, they can't do this.", he looked round. "Where's the captain?"

Sighing, Soap had to refrain from rolling his eyes. He yawned tiredly and rubbed the back of his neck.

"The captain knows about the decision.", he replied. "And he signed off on it."

"The team needs us!"

"The team is on break for now. Until we get back."

Gaz stared glumly at the paper in his hand. Then he looked at his mate.

"How long have you got?", he asked.

"Six weeks.", Soap replied with a shrug. "For now."

"Shit! Six weeks no action..."

With his lips pressed together, the Scot looked at him out of the corner of his eye. His fingers lingered on the zip of the packed bag.

"Six weeks goes by faster than you think.", he closed the bag and threw it over his shoulder. "You should enjoy it."

Kyle snorted.

"How am I supposed to enjoy this when I've just been relieved of my duties?", he waved the therapist's badge angrily in the air.

"Steaming Jesus, Gaz, you need to calm down."

"Six weeks means they'll test us again and if we're not up to scratch by then we can be discharged."

"That's why they give you six weeks to rest. Damn it, go home and relax."

"How am I supposed to do that if I always have to think about this fucking appraisal?"

Soap sighed.

"Ya makin' it worse than it is. You're on leave, not unemployed.", he replied dryly. "Bloody hell, I can't wait to fall into my own bed with a proper mattress and no bed linen that picks my arse every time I move. Meet up with friends. Have a few pints. When was the last time you woke up after seven in the morning?"

Gaz had no answer to that question. If he was honest with himself, then it must have been before his time in the military, because since then he had mutated into a chronic early riser. If he had a proper deep sleep phase at all.

Because he hesitated so long to answer, Soap nodded and pushed past him with his luggage. Gaz's fingers continued to clutch the paper. He couldn't just accept this diagnosis. He was in the best of health, both physically and mentally.

"What about Ghost?", he finally asked over his shoulder.

Soap replied with a shrug.

"What about him?", he asked back.

"What? We both got a note like that and Ghost didn't? Of all of us on the team, Simon is the one with the psychological aptitude?"

The Scotsman laughed with amusement.

"Sounds bloody delighting when you say it out loud like that.", he admitted, scratching his chin. "Simon is totally mentally ill, psychological treatment won't help him but drugs. Hard ones. Now that I think about it, maybe we could get something from him that gets us high."

Annoyed, Gaz gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes.

"Johnny.", he warned.

"Have a bit of fucking fun. Relax. It's not like we can change it now anyways.", Soap opened the door and a cold, rainy day hit Gaz square in the face. "Listen, I'm goin' home. To Scotland. If you fancy it, just turn up, I'll buy you a few pints and show you round Edinburgh."

Shaking his head, Gaz squinted and flopped down on the bench.

"I... can't relax.", he pressed out between clenched teeth. "A mission would be best. I'm sure the captain's got work. Then I can distract myself."

Soap stared at him from the doorway for a moment, his hand still on the handle. Thoughts crossed his face before his eyebrows furrowed and pity appeared. He gently pushed the door shut again.

But the cold of the rain still clung to Gaz's dark skin. He could feel goose bumps spreading all over his body.

"Gaz, brother, I know it's not nice to hear, but with a statement like that, maybe you should ask yourself if it really isn't time to take some time off.", he tried to package it as nicely as he could but still earned an annoyed scoff from his mate. "Just a few days and you'll feel like new. Besides, six weeks is nothin'. We'll be back in a jiffy and then you'll beg for more time off.

With his face buried in his hands Gaz tried to wipe away the heavy feeling that pressed down on his shoulders, made it hard to breathe.

He didn't even know what to respond to it so instead, he got up and walked straight past Soap, tore the door open and found himself in the middle of a rainstorm.

Soap grabbed him by the arm but Gaz freed himself with a quick jerk. He stopped in his tracks, strands of rain ran down his face, started to get into his thick curls and soaked them.

"Thanks.", he just said and took a deep breath. "I'll think about the offer. And a good ride. British rail is pretty fucked these days."

And with these words he turned on his heel and left. He didn't even say goodbye to Price who rounded the corner mere seconds later.

"Went well, I see.", the Brit noted in a sober manner.

Soap shrugged.

"We'll be fine. I hope."