Not All Shells are Hollow

Mistakes were Made

If there was anything MacTavish thought he could be sure of, it was his own sexuality. Even if he didn't go out of his way to pick up girls or gawk at them, he liked to think he was straight. That fell well in line with his Catholic upbringing. Between a priest who went out of his way to rant on the evils of sodomy and his dad who simply didn't support homosexuality, he had no reason to even consider men. When he was young, he feared it as sinful. Nowadays sin didn't scare him all that much, he'd already resigned himself to the fact that he was probably going to hell. His main aversion to being gay turned to it being more or less taboo in the military when he first enlisted.

That was before he woke up naked with his ass absolutely burning and next to no recollection of last night after arriving to the pub. He at least knew he was heavily hungover.

There was the dimmest glimmer of a memory though, of lips dragging down his stomach and sighed words that sent a shiver down his spine. Who was it? Langley was the most sober one there, it couldn't be him. Ghost...?
Ridiculous. The man hated him.

MacTavish sat up, his head pounding. In an effort to alleviate the pain, he rubbed at his forehead. He had to get dressed, had to figure out where he was... Both of these were difficult. At the very least, his boxer briefs were still kind of on him, so he was able to cover himself in short order. He set himself to the task of collecting the rest of his scattered clothing on the floor.

His hand stopped as it found a very familiar skull mask under his shirt.

"Maybe you should take it easy, Captain-"

Without a word, MacTavish threw the mask back at Ghost and finished getting dressed. As soon as he was, he made a beeline for the door.

"Hey, where are you going?"

There wasn't an answer, not even a look back his way. He left the room, located his shoes and coat at the front door, then exited the flat. Next, the complex. His car was in the parking lot, though he couldn't remember driving to this place, and fished for his keys in his pocket.

They weren't there.

A more thorough search of his pants and coat revealed that his keys weren't on his person, and he concluded Langley hopefully took them at some point while he was blackout drunk. With one look at the complex, the Captain determined that he wouldn't go back inside to get them. That would mean having to confront Ghost if he did.

Instead he sat by his car in the cold. It wasn't a good plan, but without his keys there was no going anywhere. Well, unless he walked... however long a walk back to base that would be.

After about ten minutes to consider the situation, he heard the crunch of feet over the thin carpet of snow. Ghost leaned against the side of the car. "Look, I know I'm not anyone's first choice, but you didn't need to storm off."

"Can you not?" MacTavish grunted, crossing his arms to his chest. "I don't want to talk about it."

"What are you? Ten? It happened. Be a gent and at least help me figure out what this means." Ghost looked down at him, a frustrated frown and his eyes a touch bloodshot.

"It doesn't mean anything. We were drunk." He had no clue what drunk him was thinking, but he clearly wasn't on the same page. "I'm straight, Ghost. End of story."

"Yeah. We were drunk. I don't remember a thing, maybe you don't either, we can just forget it happened," Ghost concluded.

"It still happened..." MacTavish shook his head. "I'll stop getting in your space. You win."

Ghost looked more or less perplexed. "It doesn't mean a thing, but it still happened. What's that supposed to mean?"

MacTavish got up and marched away. He'd figure out where he was eventually. He had all day to work it out. Just, for now, he needed to be alone.