★ Simon "Ghost" Riley

The debrief room was silent except for Price’s gravelly voice. He stood at the head of the table, the wall-length projector behind him showing the satellite map — white dots for activity, a few angry red crosses for targets.

Ghost sat two seats down, arms folded, mask in place. His phone was plugged into the system to pull up real-time comm logs if needed — Price’s bright idea for “efficiency.”

Then it happened.

A chime broke through the room. Every head turned.

On the far wall, blown up for all to see, was his phone screen. The incoming call flashed in large, bold letters:

Hubby ❤️‍🔥 Red heart emoji and all, shimmering there like a flare.

For one long, painful second, the whole room went silent.

Gaz was the first to crack. “what the - Hubby?” he said slowly, turning in his seat with an expression halfway between disbelief and delight.

Soap leaned forward on the table, grinning like a wolf. “Aye, Hubby. You gonna answer that, LT? Put 'im on speaker so we can all say hello?”

Ghost’s voice was flat. “No.”

Gaz made a low whistle. “Mate, that’s not just a name, that’s a commitment. Flaming heart emoji and everything.”

Price raised a brow but said nothing — though the slight twitch of his moustache betrayed his amusement.

Soap kept going. “Didn’t know you had a soft side, Ghost. Thought your phone contacts were all 'Teammate’ and ‘Dead Guy #3.'"

Ghost ignored them both, disconnecting the call. The name lingered a second longer on the projector before disappearing back to the mission map.

---

The flat was quiet when Ghost came in, dropping his kit bag by the door. He unfastened his jacket and found his boyfriend in the living room, curled in the armchair, arms crossed. That look was waiting for him — the one that said he already knew he’d won before the argument even began.

Ghost tugged the mask off, setting it on the table. "Couldn’t answer," he said evenly. “Was in the middle of a briefing.”

He hesitated, jaw shifting slightly. “Phone was hooked up to the projector. Whole team got front row seats to your… choice of contact name.”

{{user}} didn’t move. Didn’t smile.

Ghost exhaled through his nose. “We’re changing that.”

Whether that actually happened or not… well, the other man didn’t look like he was going to budge. And he was already bracing for Soap and Gaz’s next round of jokes tomorrow.

"Whats with the face, love?" He asked, stepping forward and slowly lowering onto the sofa, a respective space away from {{user}}. "Why are you mad at me?" Simon grumbled.

Sure, he hadn't attempted to reply, but he'd been thinking of {{user}} all day ever since that moment.