Words: 900
Ship: PriceGraves
A/N: Set during the breakout mission in MW2. This is literally just crack treated seriously. Hidden marriage, anyone?
Original Thread.
When Soap had managed to grapple up the wall of the side of the base, the last thing he expected was for Gaz to be the one to grab his outstretched hand and haul him up onto solid metal.
Now, that alone was a surprise enough. What only confused him and Ghost more, however, was the fact that Gaz very much seemed to be on his own. "Where's the Capt?" Soap asked, voice raised over the sound of gunfire and quickly peering over the wall as if the answer would present itself to him.
"I'm gonna be really honest with you," Gaz replied, looking somewhat sheepish and concerned rolled in one. "I've not a fucking clue. He broke off from the rest of us, said he 'had a plan' and I've not seen him since." The timing of the front gates to the compound opening up was somewhat comical.
Standing there, in all his pissed off glory, was none other than John Price. His entrance seemed to capture the attention of nearby Shadows and Soap was already raising his weapon to try and protect his clearly suicidal Captain-- but stopped. So did many of the Shadows closest to Price.
They stared at the Captain. He stared back, face mophing into a horrendous scowl. Ghost, Gaz, Soap and whatever remaining Vaqueros remained on the wall (Alejandro and Rudy included), stared in a growing cocktail of shock, confusion and borderline mortification when the Shadows saluted. Saluted.
Saluted at John Price as he stalked past like a man on a mission-- like they all knew the man.
"Phillip fucking Graves!" Price shouted, his voice booming and echoing loud enough across the compound that slowly any Shadows still firing weapons stopped. Like a damn spell.
"Phillip, get your sorry arse out here!"
"... I think I hit my head when I fell out the heli." Gaz whispered beside him and Soap would have to ask him about that later because right now, he felt like if he blinked he would miss whatever the hell was unfolding in front of him.
Soap himself thought that he may have been an actual victim to his blood loss earlier and all of this was some sort of lucid dream when, as if summoned by the dark arts, Graces appeared from one of the nearby buildings. He looked sheepish. Sheepish and embarrassed like he had been caught doing something that he shouldn't have.
"H-Honey plum!" The sergeants exchanged glances, mouthing 'honey plum' to each other with raised eyebrows. Gone was the PMC Commander. Gone was Phillip 'I don't make threats, I make guarantees' Graves and in his place was some... timid chastised child.
But honey plum?
"What are you doin' here?" Graves continued, gravel crunching beneath his boots as he approached the furious SAS Captain. "I-I'm, well, a little busy at the moment, pumpkin--" Ghost turned away from the scene and Soap was about to ask if he was alright when he saw it.
Price reared back, his expression thunderous, as he pulled his arm back and punched Graves square in the face. Soap spluttered in growing horror and he could hear Alejandro cursing up a biblical nightmare. From the way Graves stumbled, it was very obvious that Price didn't hold back. Graves staggered back a few steps, hand instinctively coming up to cradle the side of his face that had made good friends with Price's fist.
"Sweetie pie--"
"Sweet talking ain't gonna work this time, Graves, you put a hit on my men!"
"Honey--" Price looked ready to punch him again.
"On your husband's men!" Everyone froze. The Vaqueros stopped. Soap, Gaz and Ghost stopped in their tracks. "This is like some telenovela." Rudy murmured behind them and Alejandro hummed in agreement beside him. Husband? Husband? Not only was Price married, he was married to Graves?
He was married to Phillip fucking Graves. Shadow Company Commander. The man that took over Alejandro's base, that hunted Soap and Ghost through Las Almas like dogs. That Graves.
"I was only following orders, sugar plum, I didn't know they were yours--" Wrong thing to say. Price looked like he was winding up to punch him again and Graves held up his hands in surrender.
"So you were gonna kill members of the SAS?!"
"No! No, sweetie, hey, why don't you and I take this somewhere private where the kids ain't watching--"
The kids? Did Graves just call the other Shadows the 'kids'? Oh God. This was fucking priceless.
"I'M GONNA MAKE THEM WATCH ME DIVORCE YOU." Soap peered over the edge of the platform and managed to catch the eye of a few Shadows waiting at the bottom. Their weapons were lowered as they watched the unfolding scene and they offered a shrug of their shoulders at Soap, who returned the gesture. Clearly nobody currently knew how to deal with the situation and right now watching a lovers' spat seemed much more ideal than killing each other.
"What happened to 'death do us part'?!"
"I'll fucking kill you and make it death do us part!"
So John Price was married. To Phillip Graves. And, stupidly, Shepherd thought that making Graves unknowingly kill his husband's men was a good idea. Soap didn't know whether to be relieved or stressed about it. From the way Price began to threaten castrating Graves, he imagined that the former was better than the latter.
30 days of agere day 20: favorite cartoon character!
went with germany from hetalia! because i felt like it.
does anime count as a cartoon? idk. but since i'm basing this on my agere age self, screw it, you're getting jay's stupid anime blorbo that i've had since i was 12. my stimboard series and not yours and all that.
plus, idk, i didn't want to go with like a disney character, that felt too easy. going with something a bit more personal! :3
What do you mean “chat” is now referring to ChatGPT and not twitch chat? What? What? What the fuck? No?
When I address chat I am speaking to a presumed Greek chorus of real human people shitposting on their lunch break, not a machine that devours lakes to covert electricity into slop.
When a character doesn’t realize they’ve been, like, shot or whatever and they hand brushes against their side and comes away wet with blood, and they’re just staring at it like wtf is this and then their knees just totally give out on them and they sink down, maybe gasping a little as the reality finally hits them. That’s good stuff.
I see that, and raise you a character who knows they’ve been shot, but waits until the rest of their crew is out of sight to put their hand against the slowly spreading stain of blood on their shirt, then trying to steady their breathing so they can follow without letting on how injured they are.
Okay but like the character who doesn’t realize they’ve been hurt trying to see if everyone else is okay only to slowly realize that everyone is looking at them with mounting horror. Then they touch their side to find it’s wet and oh no
"that time of the month" "monthly visitor" "feminine hygiene products" GRRAH!!! SHUT UP SHUT UP!!! PERIOD!! MENSTRUATION!!!! TAMPONS!!! PADS!! MENOPAUSE!!!!!!!!!!!
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