Chapter Text
“It’s two weeks,” Soap pleaded, holding up two innocent little fingers as that would’ve helped. Pouting in that typical way Gaz never really bothered to react to, “it’s a free vacation Gaz…”
“Third wheeling for two weeks?” Gaz leaned his hip against the kitchen counter, nice marble surface, clean countertops with fresh fruit and vegetables in baskets. they’d had an interior designer come up to their apartment when they moved in, both clueless how to decorate such a modern large space – another courtesy of ghost, “no thank you.”
“It’s not third wheeling,” soap said, sheepishly scratching the back of his neck, “Ghost has to take with him a bunch of board members from the company, and its this anniversary thing from the time Ghost took over, Gary will be there,” soap rattled out more names, names that Gaz by now knew who were, “and Price too, which means that Ghost will be all up their arse–“
And by all means, Gaz had never ever in his life looked at a older man in a different way than disinterest. He had strictly been with his own age, or just the slightest older than himself. He didn’t like the dynamic, lips curling downwards when Soap had said to him all those years ago now that he was really into older men.
Gaz didn’t like it, hadn’t back then and especially not after Ghost came into their lives. And yeah, Ghost was a nice dude, hot too if Gaz was really going to be honest, but it was something about it that iffed him. 23 year age gap is not something Gaz thought lightly over, the grey hair, the aching knees and back – fuck no, Gaz wasn’t swinging that way, no matter how much Soap explained in detail how hot Ghost actually was.
Up until, and he wasn’t about to confess that to Soap who still prattled on about this vacation, that fucking dinner. It was innocent, one more expensive dinner with one of Ghost’s many friends – or just for the sake of spoiling Soap but Gaz wasn’t going to dive into that at all. Gaz had gone in with Soap by his side and been absolutely blown away – metaphorically of course.
Price was, well handsome (who was he even kidding, the man was fucking hot), in a way Gaz had never seen before. Rugged in a way that got Gaz sweaty under the collar, nice even voice that sent a shiver down his spine, broad and wide chested in a masculine way. He was doomed, especially when Price leaned onto the table, sleeves pulled up to his elbows, a cigar smouldering in his fingers – engaging him in a conversation that left Gaz breathless.
Because Price was funny, teased and joked, a bit old timey but Gaz could easily look past it, had grey hairs snaking into his beard and hair and a certain look in his eyes that told a life story longer than Gaz had lived. And while in the past Gaz wouldn’t appreciate the grey it really did something for Price’s full look, the hint of a young man who used to be scarily hot – who then got more mature with age and really cemented the hotness. Really doing him a favour if Gaz was truly honest.
And Gaz was fucked, not physically (a shame truly) but he had sworn up and down to everything holy that he wouldn’t do anything stupid. Not stupid like Soap who had managed to get himself a man double his age, that in twenty years' time would be near geriatric in Gaz’s eyes.
But Price? Good gracious Gaz was nearly blushing standing in front of Soap, far away in his mind's eye while he kept selling this vacation Gaz already knew he was saying yes to. He was dreaming about a beach and airy hotel rooms, large and lavish like their new apartment and the cars Gaz sometimes found himself in the backseat in. He dreamed about laying his head on a hairy chest that had grey swirls hidden between the dark brown. And yeah, he shook his head, lifted his arms up in defeat and sighed dramatically. “Fine,” he breathed out, solidifying what was going to be The Stupidest decision of his life, “I’ll come along to this stupid vacation.”
Whatever else Soap said didn’t mean anything as regret built up in Gaz’s chest. This wasn’t a good idea, he was playing an age restricted game he was nowhere near old enough to play – and yet, he couldn’t quite say no either. Pulled into the memory from the restaurant.
Soap and ghost had already engaged in a conversation that neither he or Price could really be a part of, and Ghost had angled his body in a way he was near blocking the other two with his eyes set on Soap – the biggest heart eyes Gaz had ever seen.
“Heard you also study?” Price asked, glass clinking as he lifted a wine glass up, eyes twinkling in the low light above the glass rim. He had an intense gaze, not to the same level as Ghost but something else entirely – like he was actively studying him with a deeper interest.
“uh yeah,” and Gaz grabbed his own wine, red and dry making his lips curl slightly – he still wasn’t used to the taste of expensiveness, wine probably older than himself tasting just the same as the ones his mum sometimes drank. “International communications,” he hummed over the lip of the glass, thankful that the flush creeping up his cheeks would be mostly hidden.
And Price’s eyes had just lit up, a smile spreading across his lips as he asked further questions, leaned in further and managed to lure out every bit of info about Gaz’s degree that even Soap didn’t bother asking about. It felt freeing, giving and taking in a conversation so easy to fall into, “how did you end up doing,” Gaz gestured towards ghost, his fine dress suit and the flashy title of CEO of the company Price had started, “that?”
Price just chuckled low in his chest, elbow nudging Ghosts side, “how did we end up starting our company Simon?” And Ghost shook his head with that hidden smile of his and shaking his head. A clear inside joke that’d been told for years and years.
“You practically forced me into this old man,” and that made Soap chuckle from his end of the table, eyes catching onto Gaz’s and having the audacity to wink. While Price kept talking about the early days of their friendship and the start up of the company.
The rest of the dinner was spent talking, drinking and eating what Gaz thought was the best meal he’d ever had. Making Price laugh when Gaz practically moaned when he took a bite, a flush creeping over the bearded cheeks when Gaz eyed him. Feeling his chest swoop dangerously when their eyes met, the sudden nervousness that slithered itself into Gaz’s hands that made them shake just barely. It was near maddening, like something forbidden and off limits being hung right in front of Gaz’s nose.
And when the dinner was over? When Gaz had thought he finally could escape the spiral of excuses of why Price wasn’t a bad idea, the man had to get the jacket Gaz had worn to the restaurant because of the chill outside. Holding it up so Gaz could slide his arms through – patting his shoulders when the jacket settled across his frame. Having the actual audacity to open up the door to the outside of the restaurant and offer him a ride home in what would be the sleekest car Gaz had ever seen – because Soap was definitely not going home if the look in his eyes told Gaz anything. And he had nearly said yes, despite the fact that he lived a 15 minute walk away, only catching himself last minute. Right before the words blurted out, he shook his head near unwillingly, eyeing price up through his lashes and apologised, “thank you but Im sorry I was gonna walk back.”
It still made him flush, even as he chopped up vegetables for his dinner and Soap had shot off somewhere else in the apartment looking for his phone to tell Ghost Gaz was tagging along – like he hadn’t been begged the past week to come along to this vacation. It still made him blush because Price had gracefully backed off and thumped Ghost on the back, smiling nicely at both Soap and gaz before holding out a hand for Gaz to shake, “hope to see you again Kyle, it was very nice to meet you.” Gaz remembered warm calloused hands, thick fingers and chunky rings. Felt the phantom squeeze Price had done right before he let go, bowing his head in a way that made Gaz think he was gonna get a kiss on the back of his hand. Felt embarrassed at the mere thought of actual want to get it.
But Gaz was someone who rationalised things, he didn’t jump to concrete conclusions before getting more evidence. He was probably just a bit infatuated with Price because the older man gave him attention, was nice in a way Gaz hadn’t really been exposed to before – yeah, it was probably just that, nothing else. He didn’t like older men, that is a hard fact, no matter how many winks Soap sent him.
—
And if the expensive dinners, the new apartment and the many other things ghost had graced their lives with. This was another new experience added to the list, as Gaz found himself stepping out of a private car with tinted windows a week later. His packed suitcase getting taken out of the car for him by the staff from the airport and rolled away before he could even try to reach for it himself. Soap grinned at him, tugging at the knitted scarf he’d gotten from his grandma, as he too stepped out of the car and watched his own suitcase get whisked away for him “that’s fancy,” he commented while gesturing towards the whole ordeal. Ghost stepping around the car and chuckling at them both.
“Better get used to it,” Ghost said, eyes crinkling in a way Gaz had clocked in on being a smile underneath the mask the man usually wore.
Gaz had never seen this part of the airport before, a bunch of backroads instead of the usual highway that he’d driven down before along the other normal people that lead to a sort of back entrance to the airport. The second their feet hit the clean carpeted floor the staff immediately greeted them all, Ghost got a glass of what Gaz assumed were bourbon and a sweet “welcome back mr. Riley,” and outdoor wear all taken off as they got herded along.
The airport, well it didn’t quite look like an airport, to Gaz’s eyes it looked liked some fancy lounge with the occasional board of current flights. There was bars and shops everywhere in brand names Gaz had never seen as a physical store. People milling around in what Gaz assumed were causal clothes for rich people, not that he wasn’t dressed similarly. There had been a package at their door earlier this week with a lot of new warm weather clothes – all addressed to Gaz specifically with no other names attached, he hadn’t questioned it really. He was beginning to get used to the onslaught of casual expensive things, and he wasn’t quite fond of that notion as he thought about his, not exactly, poor upbringing. Fancy labels and soft expensive fabrics, all fitting him like no other clothes had ever (except for Alejandro’s clothes he had gotten tailored that Ghost so nicely footed the bill for).
Right now, he had on some of the softest linen pants in a soft cream colour, an oversized shirt in a similar colour with a few buttons popped at the collar to show of the jewellery Gaz had chosen to buy himself – with ghost’s money, but Soap was the one insisting he could use the debit card Soap was in charge of, since Soap was the one handling all minor transactions for Ghost apparently.
They came up to a different part of the airport, nice deep coloured couches lining a panoramic window that showcased the rows of private planes. There was chandeliers and soft lights, distant music and a sort of bar on one end. Ghost was already beelining for a couch, the few airport staff that had herded them here all disappeared off somewhere, “which one is ours?” Gaz asked as he too walked towards the couches, it was soft and full of velvety pillows. Ghost craned his neck, adjusted his position as Soap all but draped himself across his lap that really cemented the fact that Gaz was so third wheeling this whole vacation. Really regretting his life choices to get to this point in his life.
“That one,” Ghost pointed towards a white nondescript plane, surprisingly small if Gaz had anything to compare it to, “I wanted it black but then people would recognise it.”
Nodding as Gaz looked at the planes, all of them eerily similar in shape and all white with no distinct colours or logos, “what about the others, they’re not flying with us?” He asked, feeling out of place on the velvet couch third wheeling so hard it was near embarrassing, looking at the rows of similar planes – a few exceptions being ones that actually had different colours and logos, ones Gaz had seen on some celebrity posts on social media, flaunting wealth in a much different way than ghost.
That was one of the things Gaz liked about Ghost, he was down to earth about his money, didn’t flaunt it like some mediocre celebrities did, and Gaz had seen him actively giving a lot to charities and volunteer agencies. Yes he did live a lavish lifestyle, Gaz had seen countless of fancy cars drive up to their apartment complex and Soap coming out of them like he hadn’t exclusively used public transport since he moved from Scotland. Had seen a million packages and shoe boxes with brand names so expensive Gaz wouldn’t have dared to even touch the items. And yet, Ghost didn’t really flaunt that much, he was goofy as hell sometimes. And he could see why Soap would fall for him.
“No,” Ghost murmured where he sat, adjusting his legs as Soap shifted positions on his lap, eyes flicking downwards and going gooey soft that made Gaz nearly cringe, “Roach comes later today, haven’t heard anything from Price— “he continued. Rattling of names while carding his fingers through Soap’s hair, golden rings adorning most of his fingers. Gaz couldn’t quite look away, something burning in his chest at the soft- and tenderness.
The wait wasn’t bad, not like the typical airports Gaz had ever been to. After a little while he even got a fruity drink served from a bartender, given with a small, “from the man over there,” before he left again. A quick look casted over his shoulder to a man who looked like he was in his late 30s. And Gaz was tempted to nod an acknowledgment back towards him, give him a cheeky smile or something as a thank you.
But just as he raised the glass to sip it, keeping eye contact with the man across the lounge it got promptly yanked out of his grip. Surprise made Gaz turn back around, scowling in anger ready to ask why the fuck someone would take his drink – only to get more surprised at none other than John Price standing there with a scowl of his own. “Don’t bother with him,” he near growled, the bartender already back and taking the glass from price, “complete failure of a man, will be bankrupt in five months.”
“I predict 1 month,” Ghost chuckled from his spot on the other couch, “signed a deal with Shadow Company.”
That made Price bark out a laugh, move and sit down next to Gaz all causally, thigh dangerously close to his own, “see Kyle? You can do better than that,” and the look Price gave him was more intense than usual, the scowl not quite leaving his features. A little like a challenge as his eyes sometimes flicked over Gaz’s shoulder. Gaz’s insides felt like goo, it felt near possessive.
“Still don’t understand why you took my drink,” Gaz didn’t like it when people chose for him, domineered his life like they were the ones in control, he had been strongly independent ever since he was a kid – he knew what he wanted, and yeah, he wasn’t too fond of overly sweet drinks like the one he just had in his hand, but that wasn’t important. What was important was why Price even had the audacity, and the fact that Gaz wasn’t really against the whole display.
Price gave him a pointed look and the bartender came back with a whiskey and a yellow drink smelling of fresh citrus. Taking both with a short thank you and handing Gaz the yellow one with a small smirk playing across his lips, “taste it, I know my drinks.”
And Gaz did, with a huff as he took a sip from the glass, letting the taste linger in his mouth and the sourness play across his tongue. It was sour, but also incredibly good, nothing overly sweet and alcoholic – a more tender sweetness with citrus he has always loved in his cocktails. He tilted his head to the side, giving Price a little side eye as he realised Price was right, he knew drinks. “Okay,” he felt defeated, but also a bit tight in his chest, “it is good.”
Good was far from the right word, Gaz thought, eyes raking down Price who shifted on the couch. Spreading his legs wider, leaning his back against the pillow, one hand draped across the back behind Gaz the other loosely holding the whiskey glass between his legs. He was wearing loose fitting slacks and a nice shirt tucked into it, making a point to show of a tighter waist than Gaz had anticipated. The man clearly worked out, because the shirt was rucked up to the elbows messily, showcasing hairy forearms that screamed strong.
He didn’t linger, no, Gaz was definitely not ogling some old mans arms at all. He was also not following the arms further up with his eyes, first now really noticing how the fabric stretched across Price’s biceps. Noticing how wide shoulders he actually had, the strength. A fleeting memory floated around Gaz’s head, while taking in big thighs nearly brushing against his own, of some young dude he used to hook up with. The guy trying to toss Gaz around just a little only to spectacularly fail and making the whole thing awkward. Price probably wouldn’t fail…
Gaz shook himself a bit out of it, felt sweat bead up at his neck as he chanced a glance up at price’s face just to see if he noticed. The older man wasn’t paying attention thankfully, a small smirk playing across his half hidden mouth in that facial hair Gaz was on the fence about.
Gaz internally groaned, sipped his drink in utter silence as he sat with this odd feeling inside his chest. Two weeks, he had to endure two weeks of massively third wheeling and whatever the fuck he just did now. He was not thinking about it, “I like that you’re wearing the clothes I sent you,” price suddenly said. Jostling Gaz back to reality and turned towards him. Felt fingers brush against his shoulders, lightly tugging on the linen shirt from that package he’d gotten, “hope you don’t mind I asked Alejandro for your measurements.”
“It was you?” Gaz asked, feeling a blush creep up from his chest, eyes widening and looking down at the clothes he was wearing and what would be practically his whole wardrobe for the next two weeks, “it didn’t say anything, I assumed it was from Ghost?”
Price shrugged, smiling an odd smile before getting up to his feet, “the card must’ve fallen out under delivery then,” he stretched out a hand a silent invitation for help up, “now are you going to sit here in the airport or?” Price wiggled his hand a bit, making Gaz huff and grip it despite not needing the pull.
And pull he got, swiftly dragged up from his sitting position the second his hand had clasped with Price’s. Yelping and stumbling once he got up on his feet, the glass with the near empty drink nearly spilling onto both of their shirts as he leaned into Price’s chest to gain back his balance, sudden warmth and closeness, a humming chuckle coming from Price. “Shit,” he took a quick step back, feeling his heart beat thunder inside his chest, “I uh…” And whatever he was supposed to say got quickly shut behind his closed mouth, jaw clacking shut. That same burning feeling in his chest came back with a passion, a low simmering heat in his lower abdomen spread.
Price only laughed, rubbing Gaz’s shoulder before patting it lightly, “didn’t expect me to be able to drag you up from a couch?” His voice dipped a bit lower, and Gaz spied out of the corner of his eye Soap eyeing them from where he too had gotten up. A wicked smile adorning his lips and a expression gaz wasn’t trying to decipher.
“No,” he answered, jumping back into the usual confidence he always had, pitching his own voice lower as well, really leaning into it, “might need a bigger shirt there, Boss,” he teased patting a hand against the side of Price’s arm. The nickname falling off of his tongue before he could even catch it. Price only shook his head, stepped back and gestured towards what gaz assumed were their gate.
“Boss huh?” Soap came up beside him as Price walked up to where Ghost was standing with some flight attendants.
“Shut it MacTavish,” Gaz hissed, Soap was not winning this one. No matter how good it felt to have Price’s eyes on him, or those rough hands and that strength used on him. No, because Gaz had googled and Price was turning 50 this year. No wide shoulders and deliciously slim waist could make Gaz want someone halfway to a century. Not even when he and Soap walked past the two other older men and he felt a slight pressure on his lower back as Price guided him through a set of doors to the outside of the airport. All gentleman and intense eyes, smooth voice and fuck–
It was only two weeks.
Two weeks.