Chapter Text
Captain Price was the first member of the pack Ghost met. The first member Ghost worked alongside as lieutenant.
Originally, the missions were minuscule; the luck of the draw, through Laswell’s orders, did the two of them get to see each other. That was until Price began to personally request Ghost, choosing him as lieutenant for every possible mission.
At first, Ghost thought it was purely because of his skill and diligence on the field. Convincing himself their relationship formed simply because of the circumstances they found themselves in— not because John wanted him as pack.
They were both alphas anyway; two alphas didn’t usually mate. Though, Ghost wasn’t exactly the stereotypical alpha, especially when it came to John. Ghost was an alpha in the sense that he was strong. Massive. Didn’t back down from any threat, any challenge. But when it came to John, it was more than the primal instincts and stereotypes of the title he presented as.
John respected Ghost as a core member of the task force and as an individual outside of his title. Understood the baggage that came along with someone who was as damaged as Simon.
In the beginning, their friendship was rocky; the walls Ghost built around his heart solid and bolted. But John had a way with him that no one else seemed to have, defenses broken. Made Ghost yearn for his captain’s connection, his bond. Crave John’s approval and praise.
Simon didn’t think he was worthy enough for John, didn’t think John wanted him as a pack mate. So, he clung to the small delicacies his captain would grace him with. The gruff praises he would iterate into the comms when he followed his orders instantly.
‘Good work, lieutenant.’
‘Knew you could do it.’
Slowly turned into:
‘Good boy.’
‘Proud of you.’
The faith he held in him, never doubting him in a mission. The soft look in his eyes every time they met each other’s gaze, a gaze John didn’t give anyone else.
The ways John would scent him with soft touches or leave pillows and blankets stained in his scent on his bed. Scenting that Simon tried his best to overlook as formalities and not John’s way of claiming him. Why would he claim him? He wasn’t a small omega; he was a rugged and rough alpha.
But he slept with those blankets every night. Appreciated that John kept the scenting to intimate items between the two of them, didn’t expect him to wear his shirts. Knew that Ghost was more private than that, especially because he was an alpha being claimed by another alpha.
Or the quiet approval he searched for in Simon’s eyes before clapping him on the back or shoulder. Motions that became so frequent that John didn’t have to look for permission to touch Simon anymore. Warm hands lingering on the expanse of his back for longer than they had to. Began to gravitate into subtle brushes of his fingers against his arms and sides behind closed doors, testing the waters, watching the reaction Simon would give him.
When Simon didn’t pull away, only pushed himself deeper into the caring touch of the other alpha did the light brushes turn into open palm petting. A soft, thick hand kept him grounded tucked in Price’s office. Completing paperwork together throughout the grueling days on base.
Until they had been sitting in silence in his office, John’s frame leaned back against his chair, fat cigar in one of his hands, the other on Simon’s back. Smoke filled the room, making the air in the small office cloudy and hazy. Or maybe John’s heavy hand rubbing shapes into his back was the cause of his heavy eyelids. Either way, Simon’s fingers were trailing his neck before he realized, pushing his balaclava up and placing it on the desk.
That had been the first time John had seen Ghost without the mask, the first time he had seen Simon. Though John didn’t say anything, gently caressing the new skin revealed to him. Gliding tender strokes on his scent glands before scratching at the strands at the nape of his neck.
Maybe that’s why Simon gravitated towards John, why he trusted him with his soul. He never made a show of things. Never made Simon feel like he was a freak show for everyone to examine. Instead, he treated Simon like a person and kept matters with him private. Not because he was ashamed of Simon, but because he understood his needs.
“Ghost.”
John called, but he didn’t respond, immersed in the paperwork in front of him.
“Simon, love.”
He called again, this time drawing the attention of the other alpha, turning around to face him. But John didn’t say anything, tracing the figures of his face slowly. Examining the marks and scars decorating his face.
John tapped two fingers under his chin, no words were said, but his irises glimmered in exchange.
‘Mine?’
Simon nodded, no words yet again.
‘Yours.’
They continued the rest of their paperwork, no words needed to understand their exchange that night. Simon’s mask on the table, John’s claiming grasp on his neck as he smoked. A routine that slowly built between the two of them. A place where Ghost could remove his mask and melt into Simon, melt into John’s pack mate.
The first bond of the pack Simon made, the first person he found a home in.