pricegazweek

[pricegazweek]

Kickback, a PriceGaz fic for @pricegazweek Day 2 - Shotgun.

Rated E, 2.5k words, Chapter 1/2

Gaz gets bruised by the kickback of a shotgun. It’s just Price’s luck that he has a thing for bruises.

Please mind the tags!

Read it on AO3 here.

[pricegazweek]

THESUS -Stop. Give me your hand. I am your friend. HERAKLES -I fear to stain your clothes with blood. THESUS -Stain them. I don't care.

#PriceGazWeek Day 5: Roadtrip

[pricegazweek]

@pricegazweek Day 7 (forgot to post this, oops) - ‘That morning I heard water being poured into a teapot. The sound was an ordinary, daily, cluffy sound. But all at once, I knew you loved me. An unheard-of thing, love audible in water falling.’

Tags: sick fic, fluff

_

“I see now why you never invited me here,” a voice says dryly as John blinks awake, head heavy and body sore.

It takes him a moment to register his surroundings and who the voice belongs to; like coming up from the depths and breaching the surface after a deep dive. Then it comes back to him.

They’re in Hereford, at John’s old as shit flat. ‘They’ being him and Gaz, apparently.

They came here because Kyle insisted on it, after John came down with a cold on the way back from their latest stint abroad. He’d planned on just sitting it out at base, but of course upon arrival he’d been informed that because of maintenance the barracks were partially unavailable. Including his room. So Kyle had offered to drive him home instead, which he had reluctantly agreed to. A testament to how shit he actually felt.

What he had not expected, was for Kyle to stay.

John wants to quip something back at Kyle, defend himself and his flat, but what comes out is an unintelligible grumble due to his parched throat. Kyle, standing in the door opening, tuts at him. He looks much too chipper for what time it is, and John is pretty sure that the shirt he’s wearing is not his own. It sends a shiver of excitement through him. And, if he dares to admit it, a wave of possessiveness too, being able to call Kyle his now.

“You still broken?” Kyle asks and John huffs at him before forcing himself to sit up with a grunt, his duvet pooling around his waist. He feels a brief flush of embarrassment at wearing nothing more than yesterday’s boxers, but then he remembers they’ve seen each other in even less clothing by now.

“Fit as a fiddle,” he grumbles, annoyed at how hoarse he sounds.

Kyle simply chuckles at him. “Let me make you some tea. If I can manage to find any clean cups in this house.”

He doesn’t wait for a response, disappearing in the direction of the kitchen. John sits in bed for another minute, just blinking through the fog that seems to have permanently settled over his mind, then forces himself to move, limb for limb. He should at least put on some clean underwear and a shirt.

Briefly he wonders if Kyle slept on the couch, but the indent on the pillow next to him tells him enough. Good. He wants Kyle to feel at home. Like he belongs here.

When he shuffles into the kitchen Kyle raises a dark eyebrow at him.

“Sit down before you fall down,” he orders and John obediently sits down at the kitchen table that has seen better days. He has to resist the urge to lay his heavy head down on the surface, but seeing Kyle putter around his kitchen is giving him all the motivation he needs not to. The fact that Kyle is also wearing his clothes only adds to the heat pooling in his gut.

Mesmerized, he follows Kyle’s movements as he prepares the tea. The way he blows some dust off two mugs before rinsing them. The way he scoffs softly to himself when he only finds bagged tea (that has miraculously not expired yet). It’s all so mundane and domestic. Such a sharp contrast to their job and what it forces them to be sometimes.

And it’s all for him.

John didn’t ask Kyle to stay. Didn’t ask him to make tea and look after him. But as Kyle pours the hot water into the mugs, the love in it is almost audible to John. As Kyle carries the mugs over to the table and takes a seat across from him, he can’t help how his skin flushes as he’s unable to pull his eyes away from how lovely Kyle looks in the early morning light.

No one has ever shown him love like this. So easy. Without asking for anything in return. It makes John’s throat close up as he forces out a thank you and takes the cup from Kyle.

“You sound even worse than usual,” Kyle comments, unaware of how John’s heart is racing in his chest.

Why are you here? I’m just a broken man.

“Don’t be dramatic,” Kyle snorts and John blinks at him. He hadn’t realised he’d said the words aloud. “I’m here because I choose to be. Because I want to be. And you know, I do kind of like you.”

Normally, John would rise to the banter, but not today. Today his brain is mush and his limbs feel like lead and his wit has completely abandoned him.

“You should be home with your family,” he says, because he knows Kyle is close with his parents and they must miss him terribly. John would, if someone like Gaz would disappear from his life for months on end. His heart aches at the thought alone.

Kyle hums thoughtfully. “They can last a few more days without me. Are you always this morose when you’re sick?”

“Hmmm,” John grumbles and it’s neither a confirmation nor a denial.

Kyle pats John’s hand. “Something tells me that’s a yes. Now drink your tea.”

He watches like a hawk to make sure John finishes it all, while casually sipping at his own. Part of John wants to object against the attention, wants to scream that he’s independent, that he doesn’t need to be treated like a sick child. But part of him is relieved that he can finally let go. That someone is willing to look after him for a change.

When he has finished his tea, Kyle gets up and goes back into John’s bedroom. He comes back out with his arms full of pillows and a blanket.

“I think a sofa day is in order,” he says, arranging the pillows in a way that John can only describe as a nest. He huffs at the idea of it, but Kyle seems adamant to make him comfortable.

Is this real? Is he really allowed to have this? He feels like he’s in a daze, a fever dream. But the way Kyle looks at him so expectantly must be reality, his brown eyes soft and inviting.

Slowly John drags himself to his feet.

“I want to kiss you,” he says, barely able to resist the want that seems to take over his whole being.

“Mhm, I understand.”

“Oh, really?”

Kyle gives a cheeky grin. “Who wouldn’t. But better not, unless you want to take care of me next.”

“It would be a fair trade.”

“Stop thinking like that,” Kyle softly admonishes him, “this isn’t an equivalent exchange. Just accept that I want to do this without you giving me something in return.”

“Alright,” John whispers, letting Kyle guide him to the sofa.

It’s an old thing, made of leather that’s almost disintegrating at the seams. Without the extra layer of blankets Kyle has put there it’s not even comfortable anymore. Who needs a decent couch when you barely spend time using it anyway? But clearly Kyle is set on changing that.

He settles John on the sofa, making sure he has more tea and tissues within reach, then sits down on the floor, resting his back against the side. The back of his head is warm against John’s thigh and with the soft sound of some National Geographic documentary playing on the telly, John can feel his eyes become heavy.

He wonders if Kyle will still be there if he closes them. He still can’t entirely believe this is not a dream, having him here in his flat. Someone with his amount of red in his ledger should not be allowed to have something like this, right? He doesn’t deserve it.

“I’m not leaving,” Kyle whispers, “just go to sleep, I’ll be here.”

“Mhm,” John mumbles, finally believing him. He gives in to the pull of sleep and closes his eyes, hoping that some more rest will have him waking up feeling better.

He has a kiss to cash in on after all.

[pricegazweek]

Here's Chapter 5 for @pricegazweek week! Chapters: 5/7 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/John Price Characters: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price (Call of Duty) Additional Tags: Presumed Dead, Blood and Injury

I know I'm a few days behind, but I should hopefully finish the remaining two chapters by Wednesday <3

“I expected... more from not just one– but two SAS soldiers.”

“Undo these ropes and I’ll show you exactly what we’re capable of.” Price spat, very much a spitting image of a large, and furious, animal. Gaz, who was kneeling beside him, remained quiet– but his eyes burned with a rage that matched that of his captain’s. 

Poor intel was part of the job, gaps missing in the portfolio, sending soldiers in blind– shit like that happened. It was Price’s entire job to adapt to any situation thrown at him– to change plans at the drop of a hat. To keep his men safe. There was only so much he could do when intel was not only flawed, but falsified completely. And Price had led himself and Gaz right into danger with little to no backup. 

‘Just routine.’ he had said to Ghost after his Lieutenant had asked if he needed him and Soap on standby. ‘We should manage just fine.’

‘Something doesn’t feel right about this, Price.’ Ghost had said as he poured over the copious amount of files and reports– months worth of investigations and surveillance. 

‘Intel’s from one of Laswell’s agents. I trust her judgement.’ SImon had looked like he wanted to say something more but Price had brushed it off. If it was important, then the mancunian would have spoken his mind without a second thought. He should have pushed him– pressed him to speak his mind because then maybe he and Gaz wouldn’t be stuck in this situation– at the mercy of some greed driven arms dealer. Even as they were climbing into Nik’s heli, Simon had that look on his face– the one that said something wasn’t quite right. Why didn’t Price ask? He had never had a problem listening to his men before, appreciating any input anybody had– he wouldn’t have shut Simon down. He would have brought all four of them on the mission if the Lieutenant was that worried. 

Although, that may have meant all of the team would have been captured instead of just half. Hindsight was a petty bitch and, if Price got out of this alive, he would have to have a stern word with her. And maybe Laswell, too, to watch her agents a little more closely. He flexed his hands, tensing to feel the knot wrapping around his wrists. If given enough time, some leeway, and a little bit of luck, he might be able to shimmy his way out of them. He just needed to keep Sergey talking. It must have been the bastard’s first capture, because the idiot had left most of their gear on in his haste to get them tied up and kneeling. Amateur.

“What do you want from us?” Gaz asked and Price’s eyes flicked over to his lover, worry flashing for only a moment before he schooled his expression back into a mask of fury. 

“Information.” The arms dealer, Sergey, said. Sergey was a sickly looking man– wiry yet fat in all the wrong places that made his body bulge in strange parts. He wore an ill fitting suit that was clearly too small for his size but also somehow managed to look too big at the same time. In all honesty, he looked exactly what one would expect when thinking of what an arm’s dealer would look like– right down to the untrustworthy moustache. Not to mention he looked like he was almost constantly constipated and, from the way he was holding the pistol in his shaking hand, he had never wielded a weapon before. Ironic– a man who had never sampled his open products that he was illegally shipping off to the highest bidder. Not one to get his hands dirty– but more than happy to dip them in blood. 

“What sort of information?” Price spoke up before Gaz could open his mouth back up. Attention on me, Price’s face screamed. Don’t look at him. Look at me. The more attention on him, the less likely that Gaz was going to be put in harm's way. Price could deal well enough with being tortured and interrogated– could handle it better than the sergeant. 

“Just a little bit of information, that’s all I want, and I’ll be happy to let you both go. And, depending on what you give, you may walk away with heavier pockets.”

Of course a man like Sergey would offer a bribe in exchange for information and freedom. Price expected that from someone who had never been told ‘no’ his entire life. If Price had taken every bribe thrown his way in the past 20 odd years, he would have been able to afford a private island with a complimentary private jet. Maybe one of those fancy yachts, too, so he could go out fishing in the ocean. With the amount of money he could have got, he’d be buying private islands for each individual fish he caught. 

“Cold of you to assume we’ll give you anything.” He continued slowly, clenching his hands into fists and straining subtly to fight the rope. His wrists would be red raw by the end of the night but if it got them out alive he’d take a bullet too for good measure. Just a little more…

“I imagine that you will. I can be quite… persuasive.” Gaz snorted to Price’s left and he sent a scathing look his sergeant's way. Antagonising the man holding the gun was the last thing that they wanted right now.

“And if we don’t?”

“I kill you both.” An emphasis on his words with a point of his pistol to Price. He was shaking, the metal rattling from his trembling. Jesus wept– had he ever even held a gun before? 

There– he could feel the ropes loosen ever so slightly, just enough for him to start sliding his thumb through. It would be uncomfortable and quite painful, but it was enough. 

“Then you get nothing.” Panted through clenched teeth, masking his pain for anger.  “Go on, then, shoot me.”

“No. I still need you, Captain. Your friend, however…”

Before anyone could do so much as blink, the gun moved to point at Gaz in all its shaking glory. Two clear shots rang out– followed by a body hitting the ground. Price’s heart kicked into gear– blood rushing in his ears, heart hammering against his ribs as if trying to jump out of his very chest in order to get to– 

Gaz.

Price stared at the motionless sergeant, eyes wide and every instinct in his body screaming at him to move– to check on him. A small puddle of blood was already forming underneath Gaz’s body. No. No, no, no, no–

“Gaz!”

Read the rest on AO3!

[pricegazweek]

PRICEGAZ WEEK 2024 - day 6

i bring forth my second fic for PriceGazWeek 2024! and my 50th fic on ao3!

the prompt i went with was 'broken' and i just had to jump on the GazAngst train!

thanks again to @narcissosbythepool for hosting this event and bringing it to life! you are one amazing human and i am so grateful for your friendship!

[pricegazweek]

Waterwork “Sit in water”

[pricegazweek]

will you accept late submissions for pricegaz week? i found out about it pretty late, and i’d love to write something!

Absolutely! I will be following the tags for another week or two, and you can always @ the blog to make sure I can find and share it!

[pricegazweek]

PriceGazWeek - Day 6 - Broken

(John)

- Please tell me, why did you? I thought it was a promise Kyle… radio silent bullshit…

- Maybe I, if only I arrived in time… You’d still be here, with us…

- I fucking miss you, Kyle…

[pricegazweek]

Couldn't get the usual link to work, but here's Chapter 4 for @pricegazweek ! Chapters: 4/7 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick/John Price Characters: Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John Price (Call of Duty) Additional Tags: Non-Sexual Intimacy, Bathing/Washing

Personally, this one is my favourite chapter! As usual, preview below!

The mission was quite possibly one of the easiest that Gaz had been assigned to in quite some time (in writing, anyhow), Kate giving the order to take in a HVT alive and relatively uninjured, tie him up and leave him in a designated place for other agents to retrieve them. Easy enough– until the HVT had a tipoff just before Gaz and Price could nab him. Hours of Price staking out on a roof in the rain while Gaz was left watching the target in a nearby bar, completely and utterly ruined in seconds. Price gave Gaz the order to go after him, alongside the reassurance that he would catch up when he got down to the ground floor. 

As Gaz ran, eventually he found himself at the nearby canals fighting rain, the wind and whatever overgrown shrubbery creeped onto the slippery path and cursing the dreadful weather for making such a simple mission all the more harder. The distance between him and the target was getting bigger– the soldier being unfamiliar with the narrow paths and low hanging stone bridges and all but running head first into them. 

“Shit– where are you, Captain?” He huffed into his radio, squinting at the blur ahead of him. Where the hell was Price?! “He’s gonna get away!”

“No he’s fucking not.” Was Price’s crackled cryptic reply– then Gaz heard the sound of hard footsteps, branches snapping and Price appeared like a bat out of hell from the bushes next to the target, tackling them– 

And sending them both plunging into the dark canal waters.

Gaz barked out a curse, coming to a skidding halt where he saw Price disappear. How deep was the canal? Shit, shit, he was sure it had said somewhere in the brief but he couldn’t remember because he didn’t think it was all that important at the time– he didn’t think they’d be going for a bloody swim in it! Not to mention that Price went under with all of his gear– if the water was indeed as deep as Gaz feared, the Captain would be getting weighed down by not only that, but the target. 

“Fuck, fuck, shit, bollocks–” 

Just as he was unzipping his jacket, a head broke the surface. Price gasped, shaking his head and coughing roughly. He took a deep breath and then dipped back down into the water, disappearing for only a few seconds before resurfacing with the HVT– holding them by the back of their shirt like a scruffed pup. Gaz watched, relieved, as the older man paddled towards him and wordlessly offered out the, understandably dazed, target. He knelt down, hauling them onto the path with a growl of warning in case they had any ideas. Confident he’d put the fear of god into them, he reached out to Price– who took hold of his arm to use as leverage to heave himself from the water.

“Bloody hell.” Price hissed, “Water’s fucking cold.”

“You were the one who decided to tackle them into the water like you were in the rugby league.”

“Got them to stop, didn’t it?” 

He watched as Price knelt down, scruffing the target again and walking in the direction of the drop off point. Gaz followed behind, ensuring they didn’t try and escape again. Once the target was making good friends with the walls of a shipping container, where he would stay until Kaste’s agents came to pick him up in the morning, the pair made their own way to the assigned safehouse for the night.

Read the rest on AO3!

[pricegazweek]

Chapters: 3/7 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick/John Price Characters: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, John Price (Call of Duty) Additional Tags: Bottom John Price (Call of Duty), Top Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

Chapter 3! Obligatory smut chapter despite the fact I cannot write smut :’) naturally, NSFW warning!

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[pricegazweek]

@pricegazweek Day 5 - Roadtrip / give me your hand

Another visit to Amsterdam, but this time they actually get to enjoy it :)

[pricegazweek]

I heard it was the PriceGaz week.

May 30 - Sit in Water.

"Soaping together

Is sacred to us.

Washing each other's shoulders.

You can fuck

Anyone-- but with whom can you sit

In water."

- Ilya Kaminsky.

While the child sleeps, Sonya Undresses.

[pricegazweek]

Blue “So weep no longer”

May 29th entry for the PriceGaz week cause that’s my birthday haha. Will do others!

[pricegazweek]

"Soaping together is sacred to us washing each other's shoulders. You can fuck anyone -- but with whom can you sit in water"

#GazpriceWeek Day 4: Wetwork

[pricegazweek]

"So weep no longer, though you love me"

#GazPriceWeek Day 3: Blue

[pricegazweek]

Chapters: 2/7 Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick/John Price Characters: Kyle “Gaz” Garrick, John Price (Call of Duty), John “Soap” MacTavish, Simon “Ghost” Riley, Nikolai (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare) Additional Tags: Misunderstandings, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Major Character Injury, Blood and Injury, Hurt John Price (Call of Duty)

Chapter 2 for @pricegazweek​, time to work on 3! Preview below <3

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