Call of Desire

18. Forethought

fore·thought
/ˈfôrˌTHôt/
noun
careful consideration of what will be necessary or may happen in the future.

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Content Warning: Mention of Suicide

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The kettle chimed, the water boiling.

Simon poured the water into a blue mug with a vanilla teabag inside. The water immediately began to darken as Ghost passed the cup to Johnny, who stirred in a spoonful of honey.

John secretly loved tea but hated to admit it in front of Simon. A good cup of tea never failed to soothe him. He held the blue mug, blowing on the tea to cool the steaming drink.

Simon gazed at his lover, watching him clutch his cup of tea. John's eyes were filled with hope and love.

John had two 'y' shaped scars on his chin and one long gash that cut through his left eyebrow and cheek. He had a sharp jawline and a bit of stubble.

You're beautiful, Johnny.

Ghost's thoughts were cut off by a hard knock at the door.

"Must be Price," John smiled.

Simon unlocked the front door, opening it to reveal Captain Price, Sergeant Garrick, and Nikolai. They all had rather solemn looks on their faces. Price held a file labelled 'Russia.'

"Wasn't expecting all of you." Ghost stated.

Price sighed. "Things changed."

"Come on in!" Soap called from the kitchen. Ghost stepped aside, letting the three men enter the flat.

"Gather 'round." Price gestured to the table Soap was sitting at. The other three men complied, sitting around the table. The Captain exhaled. "Soap, Ghost. You deserve an explanation."

Simon and John glanced at each other, confused.

"Why's that, sir?" Soap asked, sipping his tea.

"The Complex you were raiding, it was Russian." The Captain muttered.

"We knew that, sir."

"It was one of Makarov's outposts, MacTavish. An Inner Circle base."

A chill slid down John's spine.

"You failed to notify us of that important piece of information." Ghost growled, rage evident in his eyes.

"Simon, I know. I didn't inform you and I almost got both of you killed."

"We lost all of Alpha and Bravo, Captain." Ghost shook in anger. "Soap got shot twice. He nearly died of infection. And for what?"

"For intel, Simon." Price spoke softly. "And from the information we were able to recover, we now know where Makarov will be."

"In Russia, I'm assuming?" Simon snapped.

"Yes, but we now know where."

"What does that matter?"

"We will be there waiting for him." Price stated, causing John to nearly spit out his tea.

"We're fucking what?" MacTavish yelped.

"We're going to be staying in Russia for a week or so. That is our next assignment."

"Our?" John blinked, shocked.