Archive of Our Own

It was a well known fact around base that Ghost was business only. He was an effective leader, in combat and in strategy, someone anyone on the taskforce would listen to without hesitation but as soon as they were off the field, he kept himself at a ten foot distance.

It was also a well known fact that he and Roach did not get along that well.

Roach landed a target on his back the first time they met, in the heat of the midday sun and between piled high sandbags at their shooting range. 

The new sergeant was taking the marksmanship test: a series of targets between 5 and 300 meters that popped up behind hills of dirt while MacTavish scored him. Ghost was leaned against a crate with his arms crossed, forced to be there by the captain for ‘leadership purposes’.

He watched with near palpable disdain the longer the test went on for. The sergeant, Sanderson was his name, was hitting every shot, one after another the targets dropped within seconds of appearing but there was one problem: he was standing the entire time.

Marksmanship qualifying was routinely run in the prone position for a reason. It provided a good foundation for finding your sight picture and creating a base for you to build upon when you needed to switch from crouched or standing positions. 

So when Sanderson stayed upright after MacTavish gave him the green light to start, Ghost felt irritation crawl up his spine. The course was supposed to be run the exact same way for each and every soldier and it was something the sergeant would know already. Should know.

Great, Ghost thought, another high speed soldier that’ll look as bullet-ridden as their target pictures after the first mission.

When the test ended, the sergeant turned around with an obviously pleased smirk on his face, noticeable even hidden behind his tan gaiter. MacTavish walked over to meet him, clapping a hand on his shoulder and saying some kind of praise, drawing ire from Ghost.

He spoke up, shouting out from his position against the crate. “You need to redo it correctly. In the prone supported, unsupported and crouched.”

Sanderson’s head swiveled towards him, his face falling flat and eyes squinted with confusion. 

MacTavish replied before the sergeant could. “Ghost, you really see that kinda shootin’ n’ say that?”

Ghost rolled his eyes, pushing up and lazily walking towards them. “Yeah, cause he didn’t do it fucking right. Run it again.” 

MacTavish huffed out, all too familiar dealing with the lieutenant's attitude. “Since when do we have combat in the prone position?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s the military standard for a reason.”

Sanderson spoke for the first time, his voice even. “All due respect sir, I’ve shot this way my entire military career and I’m still alive.”

Ghost dragged his eyes to the sergeant to find the other’s already on him. 

Sanderson was clearly well built; just a few inches shorter with thick forearms showing from the rolled up sleeves of his top and strong shoulders. He had an ACH over his head with the gaiter covering the lower half of his face, hiding his expression but Ghost could see his narrowed eyes, a dark brown that looked like he had more to say.

“Well, aren’t you fuckin’ lucky?” Ghost drawled back, his voice dripping condescension. 

He could see the gears turning in Sanderson’ head, the barely concealed anger flitting over his face before it set into a cold, hard stare as he realized how this was going to go. Ghost felt a flash of interest to watch that expression become stubborn.

The sergeant kept his eyes on him as he spoke. “Let’s run it again.”

MacTavish sighed next to them, bringing a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose from the exchange he just saw between them. When Ghost tilted his head toward him, waiting for the captain to start another test, he only glared and turned towards the control tower to begin.

Ghost felt a curl of gratification to see Sanderson move to the lane and drop down into prone, M4A1 in hand. 

He still shot good, dropping nearly all the targets but Ghost could tell it was stiff. If he had to guess, Sanderson was the soldier at the front of the squad, calling shots and charging in, never at the back to cover his team in the prone. Someone who took too many risks and should’ve already lost his life for it.

Ghost was standing with his arms crossed as MacTavish joined him again once the course finished.

“You ain’t hafta be all like that, mate.” 

The lieutenant scoffed. “Just making sure he can do things right.”

“And you can do that without being a cunt ‘bout it.” MacTavish’s voice took on a hard tone, edging between a command. “Fuckin’ help your soldiers, not hinder ‘em.”

Ghost bit his tongue from the smart reply that formed, swallowing past it. “I’ll try.”

Sanderson joined them after he cleared the barrel of his rifle, shoulders tense as his eyes flicked over Ghost briefly. The lieutenant kept his mouth shut this time, after MacTavish’s warning.

The captain gave him a grin, patting against his shoulder again. “Great shootin’, sergeant. I can tell you’ll be a good addition to the taskforce, jus’ don’t take Ghost here to heart.” 

MacTavish shot him a dirty look that Ghost refrained from commenting on.

Sanderson seemed to smile underneath the gaiter. “Thank you, sir. I look forward to working with you.”

Ghost let out a huff of barely suppressed irritation. “Not half bad, when you actually follow SOP.”

He knew he was pushing it when MacTavish gave him a look that said knock it off for real this time.

Sanderson turned to face him again, defiance in the lines of his face despite his words. “Won’t happen again, sir.” 

Ghost narrowed his eyes behind the reflection of his sunglasses before muttering out. “Good.”

He turned and walked away, feeling the prickle of eyes along his back.

It quickly became apparent that the new sergeant wasn’t so easy to back down.

With Ghost’s abrasive introduction and sharp words, he expected the man to back down and stay quiet but he hadn’t been so lucky. Roach had a stubborn streak as wide as a river, often speaking his mind about strategy and not afraid to challenge something Ghost said. He always kept his voice cold and flat but respectable enough to toe the line.

And then there was his action in the field.

Sanderson acquired his callsign shortly after his first few operations with the taskforce, confirming Ghost’s suspicions. The sergeant loved taking point and peaking from cover just to get his shot. He dived for grenades thrown their way just to toss them back and set off C4 charges edging the line of safety yet somehow, someway, the man was still alive. 

The risks he took and the blind trust he immediately placed in his teammates to cover his back confused him. How could he be so naive, so trusting that he’d come out in one piece? 

It pissed Ghost off to no end.

To him it showed a lack of true experience and would only be a matter of time. 

The squad noticed Sanderson’s talent for getting out of hairy situations too and jokingly called him a cockroach until the nickname ‘Roach’ fell into place. The sergeant only shrugged it off, laughing with a roll of his eyes while Ghost bit his tongue.

He tried not to care, he really did, but he couldn’t stop himself from paying extra attention to Roach during missions to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid. It’s what he was currently doing, freezing his ass off in an abandoned building in the middle of nowhere, Russia.

MacTavish was given a lead on a mass shipment of weapons and small missiles that could do major damage in the wrong hands. It had connections to a rising ultranationalist group in Russia and became top priority for them to secure, bringing them to a remote village at the foot of the Verkhoyansk mountains. The captain sent a team consisting of Ozone, Royce, Archer and Roach with Ghost leading to follow their trail and recover the weapons.

The wind bit the skin around Ghost’s eyes, poorly shielded from his glasses and sending a chill through his whole body. They were waiting on Archer to confirm visual of the shipment, hiding in a construction site building that did next to nothing to shield them from the cold. 

Ghost surveyed out of a window on the second floor, watching as ultranationalist patrols became more frequent. He could tell they were gathering here for something important, the sheer number of them was more than they expected. He hoped MacTavish’s intel was good. 

He sighed out, his breath fogging in the air and turned to head back down the stairs where everyone else was. Ghost saw them all in position, keeping watch from the windows or posted next to the door and was about to call out when Archer’s voice came through on the comms urgently. 

“Patrol coming your way. Recommend hiding or taking them out silently, lot of others near your position.”

Ghost fell back into a shaded alcove to the right of Roach, who was crouched behind a large stack of cinderblocks, when the door snapped open. He lost sight of Ozone and Royce, hoping they found good enough cover. 

The enemy soldiers waltzed into the building, muttering between them in Russian. There were six of them in total, too large of a group for them to take down silently.

Ghost spoke soft and low into his comms. “Keep it quiet, we’ll let ‘em pass.”

He didn’t need to hear any responses to know his team would listen as the soldiers walked through the concrete building. 

The patrol was nearing the other side of the building when the last soldier broke off, turning to loop back in the direction of him and Roach. The man was patting at his pockets, obviously having lost something and began back tracking to look around the ground. 

The lieutenant silently cursed as the enemy made his way closer to them. He was well hidden with the help of the dark shadows but Roach wasn’t covered enough. And his damn boot was peaking out from the edge.

Ghost heard the footsteps approaching and tilted his head to catch Roach’s eyes. The sergeant was frozen in place, practically holding his breath as he stared back at the other with his eyebrows furrowed. He tightened his grip on his rifle and began to ready it but Ghost pressed his pointer finger to his lips, making Roach freeze again. The lieutenant quietly pulled his knife from the holster on his thigh, readying his grip for the right moment.

The soldier continued until he was right between them and paused. He must’ve caught sight of Roach’s boot. 

“а, что?” The man muttered in confusion before a choked gasp came from his lips.

Ghost grabbed him by the tactical vest and yanked him into the alcove, slipping the blade through the flesh of his neck and smothering any noise with a gloved hand over his mouth. He could feel the struggle of the man becoming weaker as his blood poured out until he became a limp weight in his arms. 

He held onto the soldier, waiting for the rest of the patrol to step back out into the white snow before easing the body onto the ground. 

Roach had stood up, shock written over his face. 

Ghost puffed out a breath of air, swiping his knife clean against the uniform of the soldier before standing up. “Maybe next time,” He knocked his foot against Roach's boot, the one that had been sticking out. “Make sure you actually stay hidden.” 

The sergeant glanced down and realized what Ghost was talking about, snatching his foot back a step. 

“Fuck.”

Ghost exhaled sharply in exasperation, shaking his head and turning to find the others. He belatedly heard a short ‘thank you, sir’.

After they destroyed the cache of weapons and took down the ultranationalist soldiers, they headed for their evac point and flew home. They were unloading off the helicopter back at base when Roach paused by him. 

“Thank you, again for the save back there, Ghost.”

Ghost studied him for a long moment with a skeptical look. The sergeant had his gaiter pulled down, his cheeks flush from the biting cold and contrasting to the clench of his jaw and hard set of his mouth. He looked like he'd rather have kept the words to himself. 

“Don’t mention it.” The lieutenant sighed, deciding he was too tired to scold the other. “Just don’t let it happen again.” 

He only caught a glimpse of the sergeant’s face relaxing just a little before he turned to jump off the helicopter. 

MacTavish was wrong. He could be nice.

Ghost’s relationship with Roach remained strained, at best.

He really tried not to let it get under his skin but god damnit, something about that sergeant just got to him in a way no one else had before. 

It was one of the first free days the taskforce had in a long time. Everyone had either stuck to their rooms to spend the time on the phone with their loved ones or were out on their PT field kicking a ball around and arguing whether it was rightfully called football or soccer. 

Ghost kept his distance as he always did, staying in his room to read and only coming out occasionally to grab food or stretch his legs. It was evening time when he finished the rest of his book entirely and decided to go for a run, feeling too much pent up energy still. 

It was funny, in a way. You’d think that after being on the move and constantly fighting for your life would mean that once you do have a day off, you’d take advantage of it but Ghost found that the longer he stayed still, the worse the anticipation would build under his skin. 

He changed into his gym shorts and a short sleeve, pulling a black gaiter over the lower half of his face and baseball cap on top. Even he couldn’t go on a run with the balaclava over his face, the heat stroke wasn’t worth it.

His soldiers have seen glimpses of his face here and there despite his best efforts. Whether from eating MREs during long stakeouts or when he’d try to wipe the sweat from his face under it, everyone still knew to keep their mouth shut, at least in front of him. 

Ghost appreciated the discretion but it still ate away at him every time he knew someone glanced over at just the wrong time. It wasn’t a pretty sight, the warped scar tissue that claimed just under half of his face and neck. He barely liked looking himself. 

But the hat and gaiter would do for now, covering him enough to go on this run. 

The sun was just starting to dip towards the horizon when he started, cooling the warm air yet still providing enough light for him. He kept a steady pace as he jogged, pulling the gaiter down to breathe freely as his thoughts slipped away to the next mission they were already planning.

Ghost made it to around mile three when he heard the distinct sound of gunfire, pulling him to a stop when he realized he was near the range. He picked up his pace again, heading towards the noise out of curiosity. 

The lieutenant didn’t expect anyone to actually choose to shoot on their day off, figuring they all had enough of that during their regular days. 

He was even more surprised to see Roach was the one shooting, laying in the prone position with an M4A1 in his hands. The sergeant was dressed in a well used pair of blue jeans and a tan shirt that looked to be from his previous unit with ‘Rangers’ written on the back.

Ghost slipped the mask back up until it covered his nose and called out. “Roach!”

Roach startled from where he lay, lowering the muzzle of the rifle and clicking on the safety before turning his head back to look. His dark brown eyes widened when he was greeted by the sight of his lieutenant standing there. 

Ghost spoke again. “The hell are you doing here?”

Roach scrambled up, dusting the dirt off of his front and looking up at him in confusion. “Sir?”

When he didn’t say anything else, Ghost shot him a look. 

“Oh- I just wanted to practice.” Roach pointed his thumb back in the direction of the range. 

Ghost rolled his eyes and replied dryly. “Yeah, I’ve collected that. Why on your day off?” 

The sergeant only shrugged, seeming unwilling to go farther into it.

“Well, you really shouldn’t come here alone. If something happened no one would know.” Ghost couldn’t help the harsh edge to his voice, unsure why the sergeant always managed to bring it out of him. 

Probably because it was another stupid thing he was doing.

He could see the tension building in the other’s shoulders and the clench of his jaw but Roach kept his mouth shut. 

Ghost was about to turn around and finish his run when a noise in the back of his mind, which sounded an awful lot like MacTavish, scolded him to be a better leader. He gritted his teeth before sighing out, raising a hand to gesture towards the range.

“I’m here now, though. So if you want, you can keep going.” 

That seemed to surprise Roach even more than when he first showed up, making Ghost feel minorly offended. 

The sergeant hesitated. “No, I… I’ll just go back. It’s okay.” 

Ghost waved him off, already moving to take a seat on the grass hill before the lanes. “I’m already here. Just shoot.” 

Roach looked conflicted, standing there for a few moments before moving back to his lane. He dropped back down into prone and picked the M4A1 up.

Ghost stretched his legs out as he watched the other shoot. He was still an excellent marksman, hitting most of the chest shots and a few good head shots but Ghost could pick out the few details that he noticed the first day they met. 

He bit the inside of his lip, debating if he should offer his advice and if the sergeant would even be open to listening to him but in the end, that MacTavish sounding voice won out. 

The lieutenant stood up and walked closer, letting his feet fall louder to alert the other he was coming. Roach paused in his shots and glanced over to find Ghost on the right of him. 

“You need to loosen your arm.” Ghost crouched down next to him. “When you’re so tight like that it makes your shots land all wonky.”

Roach’s eyes flicked over his face for a moment, suddenly reminding him that he only had the gaiter and hat on. This was the most the sergeant had probably ever seen of him, hints of his scars visible near his right eye. Ghost tried to ignore the sinking feeling low in his gut, dreading what the other thought of what he saw. 

Roach didn’t say anything, only moving his arm like how Ghost had described. 

“Try it.” Ghost covered his ears in preparation and jerked his chin towards the target. 

Roach fired but this time the bullet didn’t even land on the target, a cloud of dirt rising to the left. The lieutenant tutted, removing his hands from his ears to lightly push against Roach’s arm until it was tucked a little tighter against his side but not as much as it had been.

He glanced back up to find those dark eyes on his fingers, still pressed against the bare skin of Roach’s bicep and forearm. Ghost sharply pulled away and gestured downrange again, trying to ignore the tingle of warmth that lingered on the pads of his fingers as he brought them back up to muffle his ears.

Roach shot again, nailing the head of the target picture. He didn’t stop, hitting each target with even better accuracy than before until the magazine was empty. 

Ghost smirked at the results, a strange feeling of pride swelling in his chest that his advice worked so well. Roach appeared the same, a small smile forming on his lips as he realized just how good he’d shot.

Ghost stood up first and Roach followed, shocked at his own results.

“Wow, uh- thanks for the advice, Ghost.” Roach sounded like he couldn’t believe his own ears.

“See, if only you’d listened to me before.” Ghost kept his tone light, for once trying not to ruin the fragile air between them.

Roach scoffed out but didn’t say anything smart back, the corner of his lips still upturned. He looked back at the targets with his hands on his hips.

The lieutenant found himself stuck there for a few heartbeats, studying the other without reason. The sun poured its last rays over Roach and made his skin look golden, his sandy brown hair near blond in the light. It made him look young, too young for the rank he held and the responsibility he carried as a member of the one-four-one. 

Ghost tore his eyes away when the other turned to him again, nearly having caught him staring. 

“You want to shoot, sir?” Roach asked him, eyebrows lifting up in question.

The lieutenant shook his head in reply. “Sun’s setting. I want to finish my run but you should be gettin’ back, anyways.”

“Yeah, I probably should. It’s a long walk back.” 

Ghost lifted an eyebrow at that. “You walked all the way here?” 

Their range was tucked in a field surrounded by trees, a good distance out from their actual base and usually they would drive to it.

Roach only shrugged. “It’s a nice walk.”

Ghost huffed out a laugh, surprised by his blunt answer, and motioned to the lane the other had been using. “Make sure you clean up and head back soon so you can enjoy your walk before it’s dark.”

“Rog’.” Roach waved a hand back before turning away, moving to pick up the shells that fired from the rifle.

The lieutenant lingered for a few moments, watching the other with an odd feeling in his chest before facing the road. He began to jog again, the sun warm on his back as he made his way to base with his mind stuck on the somewhat pleasant exchange between him and Roach.

Ghost’s limbs felt as heavy as lead as he trudged through the jungle undergrowth. They were deep in Malaysia, specifically the Taman Negara rainforest following a lead they got from the Russian arms trade, specifically a man that could give them more intel on the ultranationalist group rising in power. 

MacTavish was leading this one, with Ghost as second and Roach and Whiskey following up. They kept a small group because it was supposed to be a clear cut op; get in, find their man and make him talk. Only issue was, their man wasn’t there, instead he was multiple kilometers south.

They had made the trek instead of calling for transport to remain covert and it had paid off. They easily found their target and were able to silently take his guards down to grab him for a little friendly questioning, revealing a trail of illegal weapons and backdoor trades connected to a man called Makarov. 

They were backtracking through the forest now, after disposing of their target, the long hike and lack of sleep wearing them all thin. Nikolai was held up and couldn’t come for evac until tomorrow morning so they had to retreat a safe enough distance and make camp for the night.

They had found an abandoned building in a small clearing amongst the foliage, a rotting log cabin and a small watchtower, most likely some poacher’s hideout. They settled down with what little equipment they had, only two MREs between them to share and the hard ground to sleep on. Ghost waved off any food, gesturing the others to eat and moving over to the watchtower with his rifle. 

He took the duty of first nightguard, knowing he wouldn’t be able to sleep anyways. The jungle around them was too noisy, too many chirps and twigs breaking under the feet of wildlife for him to even imagine getting a wink of sleep. He posted up in the tower and watched over the tree line until the sky darkened into an inky black.

The lieutenant had been lost in his thoughts about the intel they learned when he heard the rickety old ladder creak and shake from an added weight. He checked his watch, finding the time still too early for the second shift.

He was surprised to find the head of Roach popping up, clambering into the small room of the watchtower with a grunt. The sergeant still had all of his gear on except for his helmet and gaiter, showing his short, brown hair matted to his forehead while dirt coated parts of his face.

Ghost watched from his crouched position against the wooden beams of the wall, confusion in his face. 

“Sergeant? What’re you doing?”

Roach only heaved in a breath from the exertion of climbing with all his gear and sat back against the opposite wall with a huff. He wiped a hand across the sweat on his face.

“Man, I can’t take this heat. Nikolai couldn’t come any sooner.” 

Ghost quirked an eyebrow at him even though it was hidden behind his mask. 

When the lieutenant only turned back to look out, Roach spoke up again. “I’ll take over watch, Ghost. Go get some sleep.” He knocked his boot against the other’s.

Ghost sighed out, remaining in his position. “It’s fine, I can stay up.” 

Roach scoffed. “We’ve been up over 24 hours at this point and you’ve barely eaten. You’re not actually a Ghost, y’know.” 

Ghost felt himself bristle at the words, flipping his head back around to stare down the sergeant for his casual tone. The other only held his gaze with near defiance before he reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled something out, tossing it at him.

He caught it belatedly, the retort on his tongue fading as he flipped the object around to find a protein bar in his hand. He glanced back up, opening his mouth to protest only to be cut off. 

“Just eat it. I can keep watch.” 

Ghost narrowed his eyes at the other for a good few moments, the other matching him right back with a flat look, basically begging to be argued with. 

His first instinct was to snap at the other and order him to leave, that he was more than okay to keep watch without having to eat but the exhaustion had made him weak. 

He eventually grumbled out a reply. “You’re not gonna give up, are you?”

The corner of Roach’s lip upturned. “Now you’re gettin’ it.”

Ghost rolled his eyes and shifted to lean back against the wall he was perched at. 

He hesitated for just a second before lifting his mask up until it was resting on his nose and bit one of his gloves off. Most of the lower half of his face was covered with the pale, waxy scar tissue that made him brace when he knew someone was looking but he really was hungry and he knew Roach wouldn’t give up. The sergeant would eventually see more of his face the longer he was with the one-four-one so he might as well rip the bandaid off. 

That nagging worry didn’t even seem to matter because Roach only looked at him long enough to see him take a bite before turning around to keep watch. 

The first taste Ghost took made him realize just how hungry he was, his stomach rumbling in response. He stole a glance at Roach curiously as he ate, wondering what had gotten into the man to actually choose to seek him out, give him food that he had clearly saved and offer to take over the nightwatch. It didn’t make sense, with their tense history and Ghost’s biting remarks while Roach would stubbornly refute him as much as he could get away with. It was an interesting feeling, wholly unexpected and only making him wonder more about the sergeant. 

He quickly finished the protein bar, wishing there was more but still feeling a little better to have something in his stomach. 

Roach broke the silence that had settled between them. “Feel better?”

Despite his earlier words, Ghost leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes briefly, sighing out. “I’ll feel better when we’re back.” 

He only heard a soft laugh from the other before they fell back into the quiet, the sounds of the forest filling the space between them.

Ghost let his body relax, a dull soreness throbbing throughout his muscles. He decided he would keep his eyes closed for a few minutes since Roach insisted on staying, settling against the wall as comfortably as he could in full gear. He didn’t even bother pulling his balaclava back down, enjoying the cooling breeze on his skin. 

His breath slowed down and the next thing he knew, he was waking up to the sight of the moon halfway across the sky. 

Ghost jolted up, glancing around in confusion. 

Did he actually fall asleep?

He found Roach crouched against the wall to the left of him, moved from his earlier position. The sergeant turned at the sound of him shifting and smirked. 

“You awake finally?”

Ghost moved to sit forward and stretch his arms out, groaning in pain from the awkward position he had been stuck in. He slipped his hands under his mask and rubbed at his face until he felt some semblance of being awake.

“You weren’t supposed to let me sleep.” Ghost’s voice was rough.

Roach’s smirk only got bigger, a dimple forming only on his right cheek and making Ghost realize he’d never seen that before. 

The sergeant had hardly smiled in front of him or was wearing a gaiter half the time so it made sense but for some reason he wished he had noticed sooner. An odd thought that it suited the other well stuck into his mind, like of course Roach has a dimple.

Roach spoke up, pulling him from his thoughts. “You looked like you could use it.” 

Ghost tore his eyes away, realizing he had been staring and sighed out, unable to keep the amusement out of his voice. “You’re lucky I’ll let you get away with it this time.”

Roach snickered and shot a cheeky look at him. “Maybe I should try my luck some more.”

The lieutenant huffed out a laugh as a light, airy feeling spread through his chest. 

Roach just kept surprising him. Seeking him out like this and cracking jokes? No one else save for MacTavish tried shit like that with him.

He felt like he should thank the sergeant for the protein bar and keeping watch but the words kept tangling in his throat, loath to come out. After a few quiet moments of internal conflict, Ghost swallowed his pride.

“Thanks for the sleep-” He cleared his throat. “Uh, and the food. You should try to get some rest too.” 

He shifted to stand up in the small area, trying to distract from his awkward appreciation and stretched his legs as much as he could while hunched over, his head nearly hitting the wooden beams. 

“Well, since you so kindly offered.” Roach had a satisfied tone in his voice.

Ghost glanced down at the other, seeing that cheeky smile again as Roach turned to lean back as comfortably as he could. The lieutenant chuckled at him, shaking his legs out one last time before hunkering down with his rifle. 

He felt like he saw a new side to the sergeant. Something more playful than he expected and caring. He didn’t quite understand why Roach would waste such niceties on him, however he couldn’t deny the small warmth that settled in his chest from the thought.

Maybe he had been wrong about Roach.

After the mission in Malaysia, Roach appeared to stay true to his words. He still kept his stubborn streak, voicing his opinion even if it was contrary to Ghost during briefs or missions but the sergeant would listen to him more readily and stopped pulling stupid risks. And even make a few jokes here and there. The lieutenant would huff out in amusement at most but it didn’t seem to deter the other. 

They held a fragile peace between them for the time being. That was, until the new soldier came along.

MacTavish had told him they were getting someone soon, a staff sergeant from the U.S Army Rangers. He already had a callsign of Rust and was an expert marksman with recon experience that Ghost could appreciate. A tad arrogant, however, as most Americans were.

He seemed to fit right in with the taskforce and even knew Roach from prior deployments in the Rangers. He didn’t find a reason to dislike the man until one of their first ops together.

Landed in a small town on the border of Austria and Hungary, the one-four-one was there to take down a small operations team of the ultranationalist group under this Makarov leader. It was going smoothly until a firefight broke out and their intel was off, dozens more enemy soldiers were there than they had anticipated and it was only Ghost, Roach and Rust.

They had lost them inside of a warehouse, pinned behind shipping containers while the sounds of boots thumping and yelling were heard around them. 

Ghost dropped from his spot peeking over a container and spoke quietly, pulling the two sergeant’s attention from their crouched positions. 

“Alright, listen up. There’s too many of them out there, as soon as we go out we’re getting lit up. Nikolai’s already on his way with reinforcements so we just need to hold out.” 

Roach’s brow furrowed. “Hold out? Shouldn’t we at least try to thin them out?”

Before Ghost could even try to respond, the staff sergeant interjected.

“Sanderson’s right, if we move up here we’d be able to take ‘em down before they realize.” Rust pointed to a corner of more shipping containers against the wall of the warehouse. “If Nikolai gets here he wouldn’t even be able to land cause it’ll be too hot.”

Ghost quickly replied this time with a hard tone. “Didn’t you hear me? There’s too many of them that getting backed into a corner like that would be our deaths. Nik can handle it and there’ll be MacTavish and Toad giving cover fire.”

Instead of backing down like he expected, Rust spoke again with a harsher tone.

“Are we just supposed to stay here like sitting ducks? They’ll find us if we stay here, we need to fight while we still have surprise on our side.”

“Rust has a point, if we surprise them we have a good chance.” Roach chimed in with a frown. 

Rust continued urgently, his voice picking up in sound. “Right? Let’s just catch them while we can before-.” 

The lieutenant cut him off with a raised hand, the sound of footsteps and foreign voices near them pausing. All three of them froze as they heard the sound of boots resume and come closer, forcing them to lift their weapons up and ready.

Before the soldier could step past the shipping container they were hidden behind, the sound of staticky Russian was heard on a radio, pulling the man's attention and drawing him away from their position. The two sergeants relaxed as the footsteps faded away but Ghost couldn’t let go of the tension in his muscles.

He narrowed a glare at the two as he felt a headache coming on, unable to quite believe what had just happened. His command being questioned like this in the field and nearly compromising them wasn’t something he had dealt with in a long time. Roach had never gone as far as this before and it seemed to be encouraged by this new staff sergeant.

Anger thrummed under his skin but he kept his voice cold and quiet. “This is not a suggestion, sergeants. We’re holding this position until Nikolai radios in. Keep watch on these corners and stay hidden.”

Rust looked like he had more that he wanted to say but Roach thumped him on the arm before he could. He only let out a scoff before turning to crouch against the metal side of a container while Roach did the same on the opposite corner. 

Ghost watched them with a steely gaze and slowly unclenched his fist, his fingers aching from how tight they had been. He knew he’d have to deal with that later.

In the moment, he could still hear Russian words nearby so he moved back on top of a crate and peered over the edge of the shipping container to look around again. He still saw groups of enemies searching through the warehouse but they had thinned out since before, most likely moving on to look for them elsewhere. 

Ghost spoke lowly over the comms, finding out that they only had to hold out for ten more minutes. For once in his life, he sent a silent prayer to whoever was listening that they wouldn’t be found. It wouldn’t be an easy fight if they were backed into this spot, most likely the end of their lives, but it was their best option trying to hide. 

It was a long, tense ten minutes but it passed and Nikolai came over the comms, announcing the hot landing. He could hear shouting and running around them, the helicopter no doubt drawing all of their attention. 

“Let’s move.” Ghost called out and looked at them with disdain. “Free to engage, since you two were so excited.”

Roach had the decency to look a little guilty but Rust only met his gaze with equal distaste. He didn’t say anything though, only followed the lieutenant as he led their way out of the warehouse.

With the reinforcements and their surprise fire from behind, they were able to take down the ultranationalist group without any casualties and comb the area for any information. 

On the flight back, Ghost couldn’t help but replay the scene from earlier in his head. He was their superior officer for fuck’s sake, he shouldn’t be questioned like that in the field especially during such a risky moment. It infuriated him even more to know that Roach was egged on by the other. 

They clearly knew each other better than he thought, remembering how Rust called him Sanderson instead of Roach. For some reason that nearly irked him more. They had callsigns for a reason. 

As they were loading off of the helicopter back at base, he called out to the two sergeants.

“You two, stay back.” 

Ghost stepped to the side and waited until they were standing in front of him. Roach had that semi-guilty look again while Rust kept his face straight.

“I’m not going to drag this out more than it needs to be but what happened earlier? You will not pull that shit in the field again. Copy?” Ghost’s eyes flicked between the two, a hard edge in his voice.

Roach spoke first, nodding shortly. “Roger.”

Ghost turned his gaze to Rust, finding him tight-lipped. 

He spoke louder this time. “Do we have an understanding, sergeant?”

Rust’s jaw was working, clenching and releasing before he replied. “I understand, sir.” 

The lieutenant stayed there for a few moments, studying the defiant look on Rust’s face and wondering how much of an issue this was going to be. 

Eventually he sighed out. “Good.” 

With that, he turned around and headed towards the building for debrief. 

He might have to talk with MacTavish about this but he dreaded that conversation. The captain would probably tell him to “step up” and “be a leader!” but Ghost didn’t have the time or patience for that. If Rust was going to have an issue with his lead, it would be his own problem. 

As time passed with Rust on the team, it became evident just how well that he and Roach got on. Ghost would spot them in the chow hall eating together more often than not or find them running laps on the PT field. He even caught them one night in the rec room watching something on the TV together. 

He couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that it bothered him to see them like that so often. Maybe it was the bad taste Rust left in his mouth after that one mission but nothing similar had happened since. Regardless, it pissed him off that he was getting pissed off about it.

In order to push it off his mind, Ghost kept busy, which wasn’t hard with being an officer and the frequent missions they were going on. 

For once, Ghost had some free time. It was the evening prior to a night op the next day and he had finished all of his preparations. He still felt too antsy to retire for the night and decided to head to their gym; it had been a while since he last had a good stretch and workout. 

Dressed in his typical workout shorts and shirt with his black gaiter and cap, he left towards the gym hoping it would be empty. It was in an old aircraft hangar they had repurposed with rusty gym equipment and weights scattered around while soft mats for stretching and training took the rest. 

He walked in and already felt irritation settle along his spine. Roach and Rust were on the mats and circling each other, clearly in the middle of sparring, just the people he had been hoping to avoid. As soon as they heard the door open, Roach had turned to look, lifting a hand in greeting when he saw who it was. 

“Ghost! You coming for some combatives?"

Rust didn’t say anything, only turned away to drink from a water bottle. 

Ghost let out a long sigh, already mourning the quiet workout he had planned in his head. He could just wave him off and move to a corner of the gym alone but something pushed him to walk towards the pair and call out. 

“You offerin’?”

“Course! As long as you’re not afraid to lose.” Roach had a smirk on his face, that one dimple making an appearance.

Ghost scoffed back. “Whatever you wanna tell yourself, sergeant."

It’d been a long time since he’d done hand to hand combat, he figured he could do a couple rounds and hopefully get away for his own workout. It’d be good for him.

The cheeky look on Roach’s face had nothing to do with his decision at all. 

“Who’s been winning so far?” 

“Rust had me beat the first two but I got him the last one.” 

Rust put his bottle down, swiping away the sweat building on his forehead and came over to them. 

“Yeah, you got lucky that last one.” Rust said as he lightly thumped the back of Roach’s neck and slid it down to his shoulder, turning to look at Ghost. “He’s a slippery one.”

Roach scoffed, swatting at the other but didn’t step away to dislodge his hand. 

Ghost distantly heard Roach give a smart reply back but his focus was pinpointed on Rust’s hand still resting against the sergeant’s shoulder. The hell was that? Was he always so touchy?

He realized he was expected to reply and belatedly spoke. “Let's see if he can do it again.”

Roach stepped towards the middle of the mats at that, finally out from under Rust’s hand, and beckoned Ghost with a wave. “C’mon then, I’ll show you too.” 

Ghost only huffed out a laugh, rolling his eyes as he went to the edge of the mats. He didn’t know why he felt like humoring Roach this much. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the staff sergeant fall back to the side, making Ghost unreasonably satisfied.

He kicked his shoes off and after a moment's hesitation, reached up to remove the baseball cap he wore. It would come off in the fight anyways. Ghost turned to meet the sergeant in the middle, keeping a few feet between them. 

“First to three taps?” Ghost asked as he stretched his arms out.

Roach nodded back, falling back into a fighting stance. “Ready when you are.” 

Ghost didn’t miss the way the other’s eyes flickered over the upper half of his face and his short, black hair, feeling that same self-conscious feeling as before. Hopefully the cut he gave himself in the mirror wasn’t too choppy. He didn’t give himself the time to linger on it, mirroring the stance Roach was in.

“Ready.” 

Ghost jumped forward on the balls of his feet, aiming his fist at the other’s stomach only for him to dodge backwards.

Roach chuckled. “Startin’ hot, huh?”

“Only way to win, mate.” 

They circled each other a few moments, each watching the other closely for any indication of their next movement. Roach made the first move this time, attempting to sweep one of his legs out but Ghost had been faster. He took advantage and quickly landed a hit against his upper arm and side.

They exchanged a few blows before ending up on the mats, Roach having successfully knocked his knees out and trying to pin him back. They grappled against each other and rolled around for control.

It ended with Roach’s arm between Ghost’s leg, bent to an awkward angle and locked into an armbar. The sergeant tapped on the mats and huffed out as he went limp.

“Damn, okay you got me there.”

Ghost smirked and released him, resuming his crouched stance for another round. 

“One to zero.”

Roach rolled his eyes as he got up back into position too but he had a humorous smile on his lips. 

They circled each other again, Ghost watching the other closely for an opening while Roach’s dark eyes stayed locked on him, his brow scrunched just a little as he focused. 

Ghost had a word pop into his head from the sight.

Cute.

He didn’t even have a moment to realize what he thought before Roach darted forward and wrapped a hand around his neck, slipping his other one under Ghost’s arm and twisting him to the side. He landed a fist against his abdomen, knocking the air from his lungs.

Ghost grunted from the hit but recovered quickly, kicking his leg out to hit the vulnerable spot behind one of Roach’s knees. The sergeant fell down to the one knee and took him down with him, putting them both off balance. 

He jumped on Roach while he had the chance, sweeping an arm out to knock him flat on his back before he could recover. Roach had tried, nearly flipping out of the way but Ghost was faster as he climbed on top of the other, straddling his stomach and pressing his forearm against Roach’s neck to force his head to an awkward angle.

Roach wriggled beneath him, throwing a few punches and shaking his body side to side to try to dislodge his arm but Ghost didn’t budge. He only tightened his legs against Roach’s sides to try to keep the other still and pushed his arm just a tad harder, still being careful since he was pressing against his trachea.  

Ghost watched the other struggle, moderately pleased that he’ll win just from the first two matches until Roach met his eyes with a peculiar look. The sergeant’s cheeks were painted pink from the exertion while his eyes were zeroed in on his own, brow furrowed. He kept trying to escape but Ghost's mind became stuck.

The weight below him was distracting, he distantly realized. Roach was solid with soft muscle and, he couldn’t help but to notice, he was warm, really warm. It was hard to ignore since they were both in workout shorts and t-shirts, only a thin layer between the skin of his own thighs and of Roach’s sides and all of a sudden, it was like there was a burning line of heat everywhere they touched.

And then there was a thought that clouded his head.

Why did Roach look like he was out of breath?

They hadn’t been working out that hard and he made sure he didn’t actually choke the man.

The lapse in focus was enough for Roach to take advantage as he bucked his hips up, hard, catching Ghost off guard just enough to weaken the hold against his neck and push him off. Ghost tried to recover and catch him again but Roach had already put distance between them.

“You almost had me there.” Roach called out, a smirk on his lips.

Ghost bit the inside of his cheek. “We haven’t finished the round yet.”

Roach chuckled before standing up, Ghost following suit until they were circling each other again. The sergeant didn’t waste any time before launching forward again, going lower than Ghost expected and grabbing his leg. He tried to prevent it, leaning forward as much as he could but Roach ended up throwing him flat on his back for the first time. 

Ghost couldn’t deny the surprise he felt at how well Roach was taking him on, usually he didn’t have to work this hard in combatives.

He tried to scramble back to prevent Roach getting on top but the sergeant tricked him, moving to the side and wrapping an arm around his neck instead. Roach clamped tight, his bicep pressing hard against his throat and restricting his breathing.

Ghost brought his hands up to try prying the arm loose but it was useless, the sergeant had the upper hand and wasn’t letting go. He struggled against his hold for a minute longer before huffing out a breath and tapping the mat. 

Rust cheered from the edge of the mats, briefly drawing Roach’s attention and pulling up an irrational irritation from deep in Ghost’s gut.

It didn’t last long when the sergeant returned his gaze back to Ghost with an obviously pleased look on his face. 

“One to one.” 

That was all Roach said before he dropped back into his fighting stance.

“Don’t get cocky now.” Ghost huffed out, unable to stop a small grin pulling the corner of his lips. 

The last round began slower with a few punches and kicks, both of them closely watching for their chance. They lapped each other a couple times before Ghost decided to go for it, figuring he could resort to the extra weight he had on the other. 

When he saw Roach’s eyes flicker away for just a second, Ghost took it. He launched himself forward and took Roach down onto his back. The sergeant grunted from the impact and attempted to roll away but Ghost quickly grabbed him by the wrists and pinned them to the mats. He was crouched over Roach, both of his knees on one side of him and giving him the upper hand. They struggled against each other as Roach tried to break free but with the weight the other put into his hold, it was near impossible.

He smirked down at him, feeling just a little bit too confident. “Now who’s afraid of losing?” 

Roach’s eyes narrowed in on his own, blazing with competitiveness. 

The next thing Ghost knew was that he was thrown on his back, the air stolen from his lungs and a tight hold against his neck. It took him a second to realize that it was the sergeant’s thighs around him; he must’ve thrown his legs up, twisting his hips to wrap them around his neck and slam Ghost to the ground.

The lieutenant didn’t even try to escape at first, too shocked from the takedown and the iron grip around him. Roach flexed his legs, stealing the little air he had taken in but the only thing he could feel was the pounding beat of his heart in his ears. 

Did Roach just take him down with his legs?

The muscle thick thighs pressed against his neck and forced his head to an awkward angle, practically suffocating him. He distantly heard the voice of Rust a few feet away but could only focus on the heat radiating from Roach’s skin pressed against his own, completely at his mercy.

Ghost’s stomach flipped in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time.

Fuck.

He was pulled from it when those legs tightened even more and Roach called out. 

“You tappin’ out yet?”

Ghost snapped out of his thoughts and brought his hands up to attempt prying out of the lock he was in but even with his bigger frame, the sergeant had the upper hand. He tried to throw the weight of his legs around and dig the tips of his fingers into the meat of his thigh until Roach flexed against his neck.

“Fuckin’ hell, Roach.” He wheezed out. 

The lieutenant struggled for a few more moments before going limp and tapping his hand lightly against his leg, leaving it to rest there until Roach loosened his hold. He noticed how soft the skin of his thigh felt, contrasting to his own rough and callused palms.

Roach spared him and released his legs, letting Ghost suck in a deep breath of air and lay flat on his back along the mats. He could hear the sergeant laughing lightly near him.

“I warned you, Ghost.”

“Jesus Christ.” He sat up and coughed, trying to ignore the heat he could feel climbing in his face. “What are you, a bloody gymnast?”

Being a little under six feet tall with battle hardened strength, the sergeant looked far from a gymnast but that didn’t mean he didn’t move like one, apparently. 

Roach let out a full laugh at that and Rust joined in, coming over to them. 

“Slippery, right?”

“I’ll give ya that one.” Ghost was still too caught off guard to feel annoyed at the staff sergeant's words. 

Ghost stood up finally, stretching his arms and rolling his neck side to side. It'll probably be sore tomorrow. He glanced over to Roach and found him doing the same, a light flush over his face.

Odd. He couldn’t have worked up that much of a sweat.

Rust spoke up, pulling him away from his thoughts. “You ready for me, L.T?”

He grimaced behind his gaiter, not really wanting to spar with the man but he didn’t have a good excuse. He couldn’t tap out already, especially after losing to Roach.

“I’ll go for another three.” 

Rust grinned at him sharply, his shoulders settling back arrogantly. 

His confident attitude didn’t last long after Ghost won their matches two to one. Rust matched his build decently well but Ghost still had an inch or so in height and at least a couple pounds more so he made sure to use it, taking the other down hard and quick. 

Ghost didn’t gloat in his victory for long however, his thoughts repeatedly going back to his match with Roach. The man really used his legs to choke him out. They didn’t teach that in boot camp.

He had a weird feeling that this wouldn’t go away.

Ghost had been right. 

He felt like a man haunted. The combatives practice had taken up residence in his mind and wouldn’t leave him alone. It had been nearly a week and he was still thinking about that move Roach pulled. 

He was trying to sleep now, thoughts lingering on the sergeant. Like the way his dimple would show if he smiled wide enough, or how his deep brown eyes would narrow right before he was about to argue a point with Ghost. 

None of his other teammates really did the things Roach did and it made him curious. Why would he waste his effort on Ghost? Or was it even an effort at all and Ghost was just over thinking it, so unused to any kind of friendly interactions. 

Roach was an interesting person that the lieutenant couldn’t help but pay attention to. And it always seemed like the sergeant enjoyed it, at least recently, when he could tell he was getting under Ghost’s skin or cracking jokes even Ghost couldn’t hold back a laugh at. He knew it was silly but he still let it linger in his mind.

Ghost drifted off to sleep like that, trying to piece the puzzle of his strange fascination together.

He awoke to the sound of a door opening, tearing him from his sleep. It was dark in his room, only the light from the hallway filtering past the figure of someone at the entrance to his room. His heart began to pick up speed as the person began walking towards him and he felt his fight or flight kick in. 

Another fucking nightmare. Like he didn’t get enough of those.

Ghost tried moving but his muscles felt as heavy as iron and he found he couldn’t even get a sound past his mouth as they came right next to him. It wasn’t until the person placed a knee on his bed that he realized it was Roach, his face unexpectedly soft and playful.

Ghost could only stare up in shock when Roach swung his other knee up and around him, straddling his torso before leaning down. His lips ghosted over his cheek, stealing the breath from Ghost’s lungs.

“Is this what you’ve been thinking about?”

If Ghost’s heart was racing before, it had practically stopped dead in his chest now.

Roach tightened his thighs against the lieutenant’s side and set his hips down until he was fully sitting on his abdomen, much like the way he had done to the other. His weight was heavy over him, settling against his chest in a way that pooled heat deep in his gut.

Roach dipped his head forward and dragged his lips along Ghost’s neck, making him nearly whine out. He found he could move his hands again and brought them up to tightly grip against the other’s thighs, fitting nicely under his large palms as he tried to process what was happening. There was a growing heat between them, burning with each slide of skin and hot fan of breath against his neck. 

He didn't give himself time to question anything, too caught up in the overwhelming sensations taking over his mind.

Roach inched his hips back until he was right on top of Ghost’s, drawing a groan from his mouth. Ghost jerked up, chasing the friction against his growing arousal and slid his fingers up to hang over the edge of the other’s pants and dig his nails in. Roach moved tortuously slow, lifting up and easing back down as he sucked a bruise into his neck in a way that drove Ghost crazy.

He was practically panting at this point, desperate to feel bare skin but as soon as he moved a hand between them, it all disappeared.

Ghost woke up with a jolt, a sheen of sweat over him and confusion clouding his mind.

What-? He thought. Was that a dream?

He glanced downwards and found a tent in his sweatpants, more turned on than he’s been in a long time. It had felt so real, Ghost swore he could still feel the imprint of where Roach’s lips had been tingling along his neck and the weight of him over his chest. 

Ghost threw his head back against the bed and brought a hand to pinch to the bridge of his nose as the realization of what he just dreamt about set in.

“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He muttered out, squeezing his eyes tightly shut like it could erase the dream.

Images only flashed behind his dark eyelids, replaying the scene and reminding him of the near painful arousal he was feeling.

He shouldn’t. He really shouldn’t.

Ghost flipped over onto his stomach, trying to think of anything that would get that dream out of his head but the rational part of his mind didn’t stand a chance. He gritted his teeth and buried half his face against the pillow like it would hide his shame as he slid a hand down under his waistband.

The first touch tore a shuddering breath from his lips as he wrapped his fingers around himself. He inched his knees up, canting his hips in a way that gave him more space as he began moving his wrist up and down. He imagined that weight on him again, those strong thighs wrapping around him like they had done around his neck and squeezing. The hot press of Roach’s lips against his skin, wondering what they would feel like on his mouth.

Ghost groaned through clenched teeth as he picked up speed, sending shocks throughout himself and making him twitch. 

He wanted to know what it would’ve felt like if the dream hadn’t stopped, what Roach would’ve sounded like if he had been able to touch him. Would he try to hold back any noises or let them come out unfiltered? Would he try to take control or let Ghost lead him? Just the thought sent shivers up his spine. 

His dick became slick from the pre-come leaking out, making the slide even easier. Ghost couldn’t hold back the moan that bubbled past his lips, muffled against the pillow as the pleasure began to mount in his groin.

Images flitted through his head; what it would look like to see Roach on his back under him instead, arching into his touch and twitching from pleasure or how his face would look, those brown eyes watching him with that pink blush that seemed like it was always on his face these days.

The last thought sent Ghost over the edge, his muscles tensing up as the euphoric feeling shot through him and made him tremble. It was nearly overwhelming as the waves of pleasure wracked his body until they slowly began to ebb away.

He sank fully into the bed, satisfied and exhausted to his bones, his mind blissfully blank for a few moments.

It didn’t last for long, the realization hitting him hard and fast.

What the fuck did he just do…?

He felt his stomach sinking to the ground, unease swirling throughout him. Roach was his subordinate, not even mentioning the fact that he’s a man, so how could he act like this?

He got up to go to the bathroom, throwing his sweatpants off and washing his hands while avoiding his own face in the mirror. 

How was he going to look the sergeant in his face?

Ghost felt disgusted with himself, his thoughts spiraling out of control.

He splashed cold water on his face and forced it all down. He just wouldn’t think about it anymore, he’ll keep busy and this stupid, weird thing will go away before he knows it. 

He didn’t know what else to do.

Ghost knew he was being weird. He kept snapping at Roach and became even more stand-offish than he had been when the sergeant first joined the taskforce but he couldn’t help it.

How else are you supposed to act after you dream a certain way about one of your soldiers and even jerked off to the idea of him!?

Ghost felt stuck, convinced he had to keep his distance from the man while simultaneously getting pissed off whenever he saw him with Rust. That hasn't changed, though he better understands why he’s getting mad whenever he sees the staff sergeant throw an arm around Roach or sit directly next to him a little too close.

And it didn’t help that Roach seemed to catch on to his weird behavior, sending him confused looks with those soft eyes or looking like he was about to say something. It made him feel horrible all over again.

He was so fucked.

Ghost was currently stuck in a mission brief, trapped in the same room with the source of his problems. The sergeants were next to each other, because of course they were, and giving their two cents even more than usual. 

Rust always had something to say, especially when it was Ghost talking about the op, that even MacTavish had noticed and sent a look at him with a quirked eyebrow. But it was never enough to snap back at the staff sergeant and order him to back off, always teetering on the edge of just respectful enough with carefully placed ‘sirs’. 

By the end of the meeting, Ghost was ready to stick his fist through a wall. Rust even argued about where their evac point should be. 

He praised the lord when MacTavish finished and dismissed the room to relax for the rest of the day in preparation for tomorrow, initially grateful to see Rust walking out until he saw that it was with Roach at his side. Ghost stayed back with the captain for a few extra minutes, discussing some specific details of the mission before getting up to head out.

He was stretching his back when the captain spoke up.

“Hey, Ghost. What is going on with you and Rust?”

The lieutenant bit back the long-suffering groan he almost let out.

“He’s a bloody American, is what’s going on.”

MacTavish scoffed and rolled his eyes, leaning back in his seat with folded arms. “So is Roach and you two worked it out, eventually.”

“Yeah, well, what can I say? Rust is a special breed.” Ghost sarcastically replied.

MacTavish heaved a sigh and stood up, collecting the files and maps on the table while Ghost prepared himself for a lecture. He was surprised when the captain only leveled him a flat look.

“Whatever it is going on with you three, don’ let it come in the way of the mission.” 

Ghost could only nod back as the other walked to the door, leaving him stewing in apprehension. 

Why did MacTavish say ‘you three’ when at first he only asked about Rust? 

Ghost rubbed at his face harshly, already feeling a headache coming on. He needed to stop thinking about this.

He pushed away from the desk, ready to retreat to his room and avoid anyone and everyone even if it meant skipping dinner. He headed down the hall towards the barracks until he heard voices around the corner ahead.

“-such a hardass. Back home, we wouldn’t have to deal with CO’s like that.”

“It’s how he is. At least he’s not some incompetent butter bar tryin’ to tell us what to do like back home.”

Ghost froze where he was and instantly knew it was Rust and Roach talking about him. Their footsteps were coming closer but he couldn’t force himself to move.

“I guess but does he have to be such a prick about it?” 

Roach awkwardly laughed back. “It’s his tough love.”

“I don’t believe it. Especially with that creepy ass mask he always wears. What’s with-.”

Rust never finished his sentence because Ghost moved before he could think, anger burning in his veins. He rounded the corner and stopped right in front of the two sergeants, making Roach nearly jump while Rust barely concealed the sour look on his face. 

“Ghost! You scared us there, where uh-.” Roach looked nervous, a red tinge on his ears. “Where’d you come from?”

The lieutenant stayed quiet as his eyes flicked back and forth between them, well hidden behind his sunglasses. Rust kept his disgruntled expression, eyebrow slightly raised as if asking what Ghost was going to do about it. Roach just looked guilty, his eyes looking down and avoiding Ghost’s.

He grinded his teeth and bit back the choicely words he wanted to say, knowing his anger was mostly influenced by the fact the two were together. He didn’t truly care what Rust thought because at the end of the day he had say over the staff sergeant, as long as he ultimately followed orders and completed the mission, he could think whatever he wanted to think.

After a few more moments of silence, Ghost knew it was becoming awkward the longer he went but he minutely enjoyed watching them shift uncomfortably. Even Rust’s expression became more unsure.

Ghost decided to spare them any longer and shortly spoke up, his mouth forming words that he hadn’t fully thought out. “Roach. Follow me.”

He watched a brief look of surprise cross the sergeant’s face before Ghost stepped past them to continue down the hall. 

“Wait, Sanderson and I were going to the PT field.” Rust interjected.

Ghost paused, turning to glance back at the man with a challenging voice. “Are you saying that’s more important than what I have to do, sergeant?” 

He could see Rust’s jaw clench and practically swallow his pride right there. “I… No, sir.”

“That’s what I thought.” He looked to Roach who had been awkwardly shifting where he stood. “C’mon, Roach.” 

When he resumed walking and heard another set of footsteps following, he couldn’t help the feeling of satisfaction rise in his chest. 

Ghost didn’t have anything planned exactly when he ordered the sergeant to follow him but he felt he should do something with how frequent the disagreements were becoming. If he were honest with himself, he should really just avoid the both of them but he couldn’t hold his mouth back in time.

He led him into one of the small conference rooms, only a table and whiteboard in there with windows providing just enough dim light. He held the door open for Roach to go in first and shut it closed behind him, unwilling for anyone else to hear them talk.

Ghost faced the other and crossed his arms, deciding to just be blunt about it. “What the fuck is going on with you and Rust?”

Roach only looked confused by the question. “What do you mean going on with me and Rust?”

Ghost scoffed out, feeling that familiar irritation prickle against his skin. 

“Ever since he joined the task force, it’s been one thing after another with you two.”

Roach winced. “It’s just taking him some time to get used to it here. Rust’s used to it being different back in our old unit where he knew everyone and everything.”

“I can tell that much.” Ghost replied sardonically. “But I’m not just talking about him; you’ve been different ever since too.”

“What are you-?” Roach’s face screwed up in confusion. “I’ve never been afraid to speak my mind with you, Ghost. I thought that was clear.”

The lieutenant groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose underneath his glasses. “It’s as if he encourages it. That mission in Austria and all these stupid arguments. You weren't pulling shit like this before.”

Ghost could feel himself getting worked up but as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t bite his tongue. Why did Roach have to get under his skin to this extent?

“I agree what happened in Austria was wrong but I don’t think Rust is why I said something.” Roach argued back.

“Are you sure? ‘Cause it sure seems like it with how close you two are.” Ghost barked out a harsh laugh, his mouth moving before he could think. “Hell, everywhere I look it’s you two next to each other; eating together, training together, irritating me together. It’s as if you can’t do a single god damn thing alone!”

Ghost blew out a long breath before he realized how close he had gotten to the other, only a few steps left between them. Roach was watching him closely with steady eyes, a hard set to his mouth that made an uneasy feeling spike within him. Did he say too much?

The lines between his role as a superior officer and these weird feelings he had been doing everything to avoid were beginning to blur.

“What am I in trouble for?” Roach’s voice was low and even when he broke the silence. “What are you saying is wrong here?”

His words made Ghost freeze, starkly realizing that he doesn't actually have a clear cut reason for what he was saying. He could feel his mouth fall open with a protest on his lips but nothing came out as his mind short circuited.

Why did he pull Roach into this classroom just to bitch about him and Rust always being together?

Well, he objectively had an inkling why, something to do with a specific dream he kept trying to bury, but he knew better than to let shit like that intervene in his life, especially with one of his soldiers. 

Roach was studying him in a way that made him feel exposed even with his mask and sunglasses on, his brown eyes nearly black in the faint lighting. His jaw was tight and his lips were a hard line, far from the warm smile that brought his dimple out. 

Ghost couldn’t help it when his eyes lingered on those lips, soft and pink and suddenly he was back in that dream, imagining them on his neck and trailing a line of kisses until they reached his own lips, hot breath fanning across his skin.

He snapped out of it when he lifted his gaze back up and found Roach’s still on him, only now they were narrowed and searching. It was like he was pinned in place at the mercy of his stare, the air becoming thick between them as the seconds passed.

Fuck.

“Forget it.” Ghost forced out, quickly turning around to make an escape. 

He paused before the door, belatedly calling out with an excuse. “Just don’t let shit like that happen again.” 

If Roach said anything, he didn’t stick around to hear it as he opened the door and walked out. His blood was rushing in his ears, heartbeat thundering in his pulses until he was safely locked within his own room. 

Such a fucking idiot.

This was spiraling out of control farther than he expected and he could only pray Roach wasn’t smart enough to catch on to what was making him go crazy.

He honestly didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t just kick the sergeant off the taskforce or even force himself to leave, the one-four-one being the one good thing in his life, but there wasn’t much else he could do. He really only had one option: avoid him as much as possible and try to move past it because if he keeps having slip ups like this, he’ll be done for.

Ghost just had to bury it all down, far away so that maybe one day he’ll forget everything and maybe seeing Roach won’t make him feel like his breath gets stuck in his throat. There was no other choice. 

It all boiled over in the cold forests of Poland about two weeks later.

The one-four-one was on a joint operation with a team from the Polish Agat special forces following a lead from one of Makarov’s loyalists; A shell logging corporation that was a front for private bank accounts and arms funding. Shepherd made a call and roped in the Agat soldiers in for support and experience dealing with Makarov’s group so here they were, three days in.

At first it had been setting up with the special forces, creating a well hidden AO and learning the extensive layout of the Russian compound tucked miles away in trees. The group was using civilian workers, likely as a type of shield in case anyone came asking so they had to meticulously plan and recon the area before moving in.

They had sent a few soldiers to the logging site twelve hours ago and were still waiting to get the go ahead. Apparently the ultranationalists had brought more workers in while their target had left, taking a lot of his security with him and making everything more difficult. They were stuck deciding whether to risk moving forward or waiting it out for the chance on their target. 

Ghost was currently trapped in a too small tent with MacTavish, Rust and Roach, trying to make a decision for their next move.

“We should move in tonight. We’ll catch ‘em off guard and the civi’s should be majority contained in their sleeping quarters.” Ghost spoke up, drawing the attention of everyone around the table.

MacTavish nodded, humming out. “That might be our best chance.”

“But the target’s not here yet.” Rust said with his arms crossed.

The specific target they were after was a man named Mikhail that handled a majority of the money flow for Makarov and the ultranationalist group. He was supposed to be here however the recon team found out that he had left the compound and they didn’t know when he would be back. The logging camp most likely had good intel but it would be a gold mine to capture this Mikhail and make him sing.

MacTavish replied. “We don’ know when he’s coming back but if he did, I’m sure it’d be even riskier to infiltrate. He’ll have his private security too.”

“If we go tonight we can at least secure any information in his office. I’m willing to bet there's a computer with plenty on it we can use.” Ghost reaffirmed.

He thought that would be their best plan. It’d put the civilians at the least risk while still giving them a good chance to learn anything useful about Makarov or his plans.

Rust didn’t appear to think so. 

“The whole point of coming here was to capture this guy, we have to wait for him, no?”

Ghost quickly replied back. “The whole point was to get any information on Makarov which we could get from the compound.”

“But wouldn’t this Mikhail have much better intel?” Roach spoke up now. “He works closely with Makarov, he could know his location or help us cut off his supply of weapons.”

“And when we go and storm his office he’ll catch wind of it and fuck off to who knows where.” Rust practically finished Roach’s sentence. 

Every fuckin’ time.

Ghost could already feel the irritation begin to build as he coldly responded. “And when is he coming back? How long should we wait here before it’s been too long? Or what about the civilians he’ll no doubt use as body shields?”

“We’ll just be careful with civi’s, it’s more important that we get this guy and take down Makarov!” 

Ghost only scoffed while MacTavish beat him to the punch. 

“Rust! There’s no use thinkin’ like that under my command. We don’t risk innocents no matter what.” The captain’s voice was firm and left no room for misunderstanding, a tone he didn’t often use.

Only then did the staff sergeant have half the decency to look guilty.

Roach spoke again. “Sir, he does have a point though. Mikhail will have valuable info and moving in too early would only spook him into hiding. We’ll lose all chances of getting him again.”

The anger flared in Ghost’s chest.

He couldn’t help but to mutter under his breath. “Oh, now you two don’t want to rush in?”

Roach shot him a look with narrowed eyes like he hadn’t been expecting that. It almost made him feel guilty until the sergeant replied back.

“Well, if we rush in, we could lose one of our best leads on Makarov.” 

Ghost grit his teeth at the short tone Roach was using. “We’re not going to rush in. Our recon is out there and we’ll have a good chance of taking over the entire place without the target and his private soldiers.” 

“That’s just a waste of time.” Rust scoffed out unkindly. “We came here for him, let’s actually do it!”

Ghost’s patience was wearing thin, the bitter sound of Rust’s voice pulling the last of it from him. 

He snapped back, his hands clenching into fists at his side. “Why don’t you take lead then since you’re convinced you know better.”

Ghost knew he was being a little irrational, letting the anger take a hold of him and arguing just to argue. They did make a good point with how valuable this target could be but he also knew the risks involved with the civilian workers and waiting.

Why is he letting this get the better of him?

“Rust! Ghost! Keep it frosty.” MacTavish barked out as he looked back and forth between the two. 

The tension building within Ghost snapped like a taut wire, his muscles bunching tight like he was preparing for a firefight. The words came quickly from his mouth before he could think.

“Whatever, go get yourself killed and risk those civi’s if you fuckin’ want to, what the hell do I care?” He stormed out of the meeting, muttering under his breath. “Fucking ridiculous.”

He headed for the supply tent, ignoring the cold downpour of rain seeping into his balaclava and clothes and ducked inside. At least here he could be alone before he said something else he would regret. 

Under the safety of the tent, he fumbled with an inner pocket on his top and reached for a crumpled box of cigarettes. It wasn’t often that he smoked but it was something he knew he could fall back on to steady his shaking hands. He leaned back to sit on a crate and pulled a cigarette out with the lighter, lifting his mask above his nose and sparking it. 

The first inhale burned within his lungs like a familiar ache and soothed the tremor under his skin. Ghost blew out a long trail of smoke and felt his hunched shoulders begin to relax, listening to the steady beat of rain against the plastic overhead.

He didn’t even want to entertain the conflicting thoughts in his head, focusing on the acrid taste on his tongue and the sound of rain.

He wasn’t granted the peace for long before it broke.

“You shouldn’t smoke in here.” 

Ghost snapped his head to the noise and found Roach standing at the entrance to the tent, holding the flap open to the side. 

He scoffed harshly at the other and took another drag. “Come back for seconds, sergeant?”

Roach didn’t say anything but Ghost could feel his hard stare prickle against the side of his face. His footsteps were heard next, soft thuds in the earth before they stopped right in front of him a few feet away.

Ghost dared a glance up and saw Roach standing there, his short, sandy hair was half plastered to his forehead from the rain, tan gaiter down and around his neck showing a light pink hue over his face from the cold. His dark eyes zeroed in on him as if he could read the thoughts tumbling around in his head. 

Feeling caught, Ghost snapped out. “What?”

Roach sighed. “The hell is your problem, Ghost?”

The lieutenant’s spine straightened on instinct, indignant to be spoken to like that. 

Roach rolled his eyes and waved a hand at him in dismissal before he could get a word out. “Quit with that, what is going on with you recently?”

Ghost huffed out and brought the cigarette back to his lips, taking a long inhale before replying flatly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He knew he had to deny because he really could not simply tell the sergeant why he’s been acting the way he has. Ghost himself doesn’t even fully understand his own emotions so he needed to block Roach out enough that he would take the hint. Usually it worked for him.

Roach obviously didn’t seem to care as he only crossed his arms and gave him an unimpressed look. “Enough of the bullshit. You’ve been more and more distant and if me or Rust say anything at all, you damn near smoke us on the spot. What is your problem?”

God damnit. 

Ghost was being too obvious and Roach caught on. How the hell is he able to explain his irrational actions without explicitly stating it’s because of Roach and these ridiculous feelings.

He gritted his teeth. “You two just have a knack for pissin’ me off. That’s it.” 

Roach’s brow scrunched in doubt. “I didn’t piss you off before.”

“Oh, trust me. You did.” 

“Well, at first, yeah. But then we were fine, weren’t we? You even helped me shoot prone!”

Ghost groaned, lifting a hand to push his sunglasses up and slip under his mask to rub against his face wearily. 

This was not something he wanted to deal with right now with the argument from earlier putting him on edge. Why wouldn’t the sergeant just give up?!

“Listen, I get it. I’ll cool out and try to get off your asses from now on.” 

Roach’s lip jutted out with an unconvinced look. “But why? If you tell me then maybe we can fix this or stop whatever it is we’re doing.”

“It’s not-” Ghost’s fingers fisted where they fell to rest against his knees, his voice becoming harsh. “Just drop it, Roach.” He dropped his cigarette on the grass and ground it under his boot.

He’d hoped his words came out as the final say but it only made the other wind up. 

“Fuckin’ hell, Ghost. Just say it!” Roach turned to the side, pacing a few steps back and forth as he thought out loud. 

“‘Cause from what I can tell, it’s only with me and Rust. It seems like you have something against him and then you get pissed with me just because we’re next to each other or something but I can’t for the life of me think of why! And yeah, I know he can be an arrogant son of a bitch but aren’t half the guys here? You don’t have a problem with any of them!”

Ghost was frozen where he sat as Roach huffed out a long breath and finally turned to him with a near desperate look on his face. 

“Just tell me so that we don’t keep doing this over and over.”

The lieutenant didn’t know what to say, his lips parting in shock while his eyes caught on Roach’s, his mind completely blanking. 

I’m done for.

The air between them became stilted as Roach was clearly waiting for an answer Ghost couldn’t give. He scrambled for anything to say, any excuse he could use to explain himself but came up with nothing. 

Before he could even think of something, the sound of the tent entrance flapping open and a call was heard.

“Sanderson! You in here?” 

The voice obviously belonged to Rust from the far side of the tent but he could hear his footsteps approaching over to them. Ghost snapped his head back to Roach, finding the man with his mouth open about to respond back to the other when he suddenly moved.

Ghost jumped forward without thinking, putting a hand against his upper arm and another over his mouth, muffling a noise of surprise as he pushed the sergeant backwards into a corner. They were hidden behind a large stack of crates just in time for Rust to get to where they had been talking, his steps pausing.

“Sanderson?” The staff sergeant muttered the next words out. “Could’a swore I saw him go in here.”

Ghost kept his hand firmly planted over the other’s mouth, feeling the warmth of his skin and hot breath against his own fingers. Roach’s eyes were widened and flicking between Ghost’s own, surely wondering what the hell he was doing but he didn’t try to fight him. His hand had come up to grab Ghost’s arm when he first pushed him but Roach hadn’t ripped his hand off his mouth, only kept it grasped along his forearm.

They were rooted in the spot, waiting to see if Rust would find them while Ghost’s thoughts were running a mile a minute.

Why did he do this? 

Fucking idiot, he knew why, desperate to keep Rust out of their conversation and for one second not involve himself with Roach. It was like a reflex, when he pushed them out of sight.

After a tense few moments, they heard the man curse out and walk away, the tent falling closed again. 

They remained frozen, Roach’s brown eyes boring into him like they were searching for anything in Ghost’s own. He didn’t want to know what sort of look was on his own face, if he could read the desperation and longing in his exposed eyes or upon his features even through the mask. 

Just that look was tearing down his defenses and making his knees go weak. He was losing what little control he had left.

The moment it broke came after Roach lifted his other hand up, twisting his fingers into the fabric of Ghost’s fleece top to squeeze them into a fist and tug. He made Ghost’s feet stumble closer as a result, only inches between them as Roach’s eyes narrowed, solely focused on Ghost. It almost looked like a challenge, like he was daring him to break.

Ghost decided fuck it and tightened his grasp over Roach’s lower face. The skull mask was still above his nose so he could feel the skin of his own hand when he dipped his head forward and gritted out lowly between his teeth.

“It’s you, God damnit.” His nails dug into the muscle of his bicep. “It’s your fault I’m like this.”

He saw the moment Roach realized, his eyes widening and a sharp inhale through his nose while a feeling of dread sunk deep in Ghost’s stomach. He moved to pull back, loosening the grip he had on the sergeant only for the hands still on his arm and wrapped in his jacket to tighten, preventing him from putting space between them. 

Roach ripped his arm down and off of his mouth finally and Ghost only had one thought. 

This is it. I’m about to get what I deserve.

He stiffened in preparation of a hit but instead was met with the rough press of lips against his own. 

Ghost’s mind short circuited, his muscles frozen in place as the world seemed to stop. 

Roach was kissing him. Him.

The first thing he noticed was how warm his lips were on his own, pressing hard and yet surprising him with how soft they were.

Before he knew it, the sergeant was pulling back and Ghost’s body moved on instinct, cradling a hand around the back of his head and meeting his lips in the middle.

Ghost kissed him with abandon, as if the man in front of him was going to change his mind any second. As far as he knew, Roach was sure to come to his senses and push him off but for now, Ghost would take what he can. He pressed as close as he could, his thumb sliding forward to the edge of Roach’s jaw and tilting his head to a better angle while Ghost’s nose smushed into the space below his cheek. 

The sergeant kissed back just as eagerly and brought his own hands around Ghost’s sides, fingers digging into his jacket. He could feel Roach press his tongue to the seam of his mouth, sending a fire alight within him before he met him in return with parted lips.

His mind couldn’t keep up with what was happening, unable to linger on the thought of how bad of an idea this was or how easily they could get caught, only focusing on the heat between them and this desperate ache for more in his chest. 

It was only when Roach broke off, letting them suck in breaths that they neglected to take while on each other, that it began to sink in.

“Are you fuckin’ serious, Ghost?” Roach panted out, his voice raspy. “This is why?”

Ghost felt a flash of hot white shame course through him but he didn’t let go of the other, only slid the hand he had on his neck down to grab into the collar of Roach’s fleece selfishly. His gaze flickered over his face before dropping, unable to look him in his eyes. He couldn’t even say anything in response, knowing he was guilty.

Was this it? Was this the part when he gets pushed back and punched? Ghost doesn’t think he would even be able to fight back.

Instead of shoving him away, Roach slipped a hand up until he could grasp along the nape of his neck, fingers tightening into the fabric of his mask. There was barely any space left as their breaths mingled between them.

“You’re an idiot.” Roach muttered out.

Ghost’s eyes widened as the sergeant pulled him into another deep kiss. It only took a moment for Ghost to overcome the initial shock before falling right back into the heat of it, meeting each kiss with insistence. He dared to slip his tongue further, tracing the line of Roach’s teeth and licking the roof of his mouth. When he heard the near indiscernible whine that came from Roach’s throat, his stomach twisted with a need to hear more.

They became more and more desperate, Ghost’s hands moving along the other’s form searching and grasping for anything he could touch. They ended up under Roach’s top layers, pressed flat against the plane of his abdomen and only separated by a thin layer of his shirt. He could feel the muscles flexing under his palms, soft and warm when he dragged his nails across and wishing it were his skin.

He felt like he couldn’t get enough, that he could never be satisfied even as each touch was almost too much for him to handle.

Ghost pushed even closer as he bit along his lower lip, using his height to his advantage to walk Roach back a few steps until his lower back hit the edge of a crate. He parted from the other just long enough to suck in a short breath and dive back along the edge of his jaw, pressing open mouthed kisses until he reached the hard jut of his adams apple. 

Roach bared his throat, fingers squeezing on the back of Ghost’s neck before slipping under the edge of his mask and tangling in the short strands of hair. He was taking in short, raspy breaths as the lieutenant sucked along his neck and pushed against him until his back was leaning past the edge of the crate.

Ghost slid his hands down to grip against his hips and attempted to lift up until Roach understood and moved to jump on top. Ghost immediately stepped into the space between his legs, Roach’s thighs caging him in and making him burn low in his gut.

They were what started it all, or at least made him realize. These muscular legs that had slammed him down and locked around his neck, holding his mind hostage and drove him crazy.

Ghost moved as far down his neck as he could before pulling away and quickly undoing the zipper to his fleece, Roach’s own fingers coming up to help fumble with the top underneath. He pulled the two layers off but they didn’t get as far as removing the dark green short sleeve Roach had on before Ghost ducked his head back against his skin. 

The lieutenant pulled at the collar of the shirt, sucking little bruises along the skin just under his clavicle and smoothing his tongue over each one. Roach let out a soft groan in response and tightened his grasp in Ghost’s hair, pulling the strands in a way that sent tingles down his spine.

It all made him feel like a wild animal right now. This aching need to move closer and take everything he could get was all consuming. A small, irrational part of him buried deep in his head was infinitely satisfied that Roach was here in his arms, letting him leave marks on his skin and slip his hands under his shirt instead of anyone else. Especially Rust. 

He didn’t even think their relationship was like this at all but God, he couldn’t help that possessive feeling clouding his judgement, shameful and exhilarating at the same time.

Desperate for more, he moved his hands to Roach’s hips and slid him until his back was pressed against another set of tall crates behind him, giving Ghost the room to hunch forward. He ripped off his own fleece and top until he was only in the short sleeve like Roach before he hiked the other’s shirt up and hooked his fingers along the waistband of his pants.

He had felt the strained fabric of Roach’s pants from accidental brushes when he had moved him, making his stomach flip with anticipation. Having been in the military for so long, he’s only slept with very few people and none of them being men made him just a little nervous but the light noises of pleasure and needy touches Roach gave him bolstered his confidence. 

How different could it be?

Roach’s thighs tightened on his sides, his hands dragging up and down his back that only urged Ghost further. He dared to move his fingers to Roach’s belt, tugging lightly before beginning to undo the strap. With no signs of protest, Ghost undid the belt and, after a moment's hesitation, slipped his hand past his pants and pressed a palm against the hardness there. 

Roach sucked in a breath, unable to hold back his curse. “Fuck.”

Ghost used the heel of his hand to put pressure before wrapping his fingers as best he could through the fabric of his underwear, drawing another noise from Roach’s lips. 

He left one more kiss against his skin before pulling back, taking his hand away and looking at the sergeant with half lidded eyes to admire all of his hard work; multiple small red spots littering his skin that he knew would bloom dark purple come tomorrow. Ghost’s eyes flicked to meet Roach’s, finding them dark with obvious desire that made him wonder if his own looked just as desperate. 

Ghost spoke lowly in the space between them. “You better stop me now if you don’t want this.”

The question seemed to annoy Roach a little, his lips quirking down. His actions contradicted his expression as he tugged against Ghost’s shirt.

“Do you really think I could stop now?” 

Ghost pressed back against his neck, ghosting his lips lightly. “You could do whatever you want, love.”

He could practically feel the embarrassed irritation from the sergeant, making him smile just a little with amusement. He may have found his new favorite pastime.

Roach huffed out a breath of air, taking his time before replying. “Just fucking touch me, already.”

Ghost’s lips formed a full grin. “I can do much better than that.”

With the explicit go ahead, the lieutenant didn’t waste anymore time. He slid a hand over Roach’s stomach and dragged his fingers along the waistband, teasing the edge as he slunk down until he was hovering over the tent in his underwear.

Has Ghost ever put his mouth on another man? No, but he could figure it out.

The truth was, he felt such a strong desire to surprise Roach and make him feel good that he didn’t even feel that nervous. He just wanted it to be pleasurable for the other.

Before he could continue, Roach’s hands slowed to a stop against his shoulder blades, nails digging in and pulling him back.

“Jesus fuck, Ghost, wait. You mean-?” Roach panted out between breaths, a flush high over his cheeks. “I haven’t showered in, like, three days here.” 

“I really don’t care.” Ghost replied as he was about to fully tug his underwear down.

Roach stopped him again with a firm grasp before he could, making Ghost look up at him. 

Roach’s jaw set in that stubborn way right before he would argue with Ghost. “At least…” He hesitated, one of his hands coming to the edge of Ghost’s balaclava. “At least take this off.”

The lieutenant’s stomach coiled with uncertainty all of a sudden. He kept the mask on for a reason, he didn’t want Roach up and running away now.

“It’s… not the prettiest sight.” He glanced to the side with a slight grimace.

“Ghost, I really don’t care. I want to see your face.”

It was Ghost’s turn to blush to hear his own words parrotted back to him. He didn’t fully understand why Roach would even want to see his face but he felt the unease loosen within him.

He clenched and relaxed his jaw a few times before giving in. “Fine, whatever... And call me Simon. If you want.”

Ghost cursed his own stupid mouth.

He didn’t move his hands up so Roach took the initiative, softly laughing at him while he inched his fingers under the fabric. He pulled it off without any flourish, only a much too warm look in his eyes and a small smile.

Ghost didn’t want to address the feelings that bubbled up in his chest as a result from that look on Roach’s face so he finally pulled down the edge of his underwear.

Roach’s dick sprung out, heavy and flushed, much like his face. Arousal shot through Ghost just at the sight, reminding him of his own aching want. It only made him feel even hotter, to know that the other was feeling the same way.

Ghost curled his fingers around him, surprised by the silky soft skin there before he gave a few experimental tugs. Roach’s breath stuttered in response and gave him the confidence to slide his hand down, holding him at the base before dipping his head and licking along the underside of his dick. Roach let out a breathy sigh, fingers tangling in Ghost’s hair lightly as he did it again.

It was a heady taste on his tongue, musky and thick with the scent of Roach. It sent heat pooling low in his gut with the intense desire for more before he slipped his lips entirely over the head. Ghost sucked a little, earning a tight grasp along the back of his head while he moved down Roach’s length. 

He wanted to be engulfed in this, all five senses smothered by the sergeant like he had never wanted before. 

Ghost picked up his pace, quickly getting used to the new and odd sensation filling his mouth. He tried to put pressure with his tongue and swirled against the shaft until it was sore.

A light moan fell from Roach’s lips as his head thumped back along the crates. “Fuck, Simon…”

Hearing his own name spoken in Roach’s voice with that tone nearly drove Ghost mad. He just about dropped to his knees so he could shove a hand in his own pants except for the overpowering need to hear more noises like that from the other. 

Ghost began to move his hand in tandem, his own lips hitting the side of his fingers as he bobbed up and down. Roach’s breath hitched in response and Ghost could feel the muscles of his abdomen tightening.

The saliva that had slicked around Roach’s entire dick made the slide easy as Ghost tried to move faster, chasing the soft groans coming from between the sergeant’s teeth. 

He tried to keep moving but the need for air and the ache in his jaw was becoming painful so Ghost pulled off, keeping his hand in place and slowly stroking Roach as he rested his cheek against the other’s thigh. 

Roach’s fingers carded through his hair as he caught his breath too. 

“You… Have you done this before?” Roach spoke between his own panting breaths.

Ghost shook his head against him, unsure how he should feel about that question.

The sergeant huffed out in surprise. “Yeah, well, you’re good at it.” 

Ghost felt embarrassing pleasure flash through him to hear that and knew he would be thinking of it later. For now, he could only grumble back.

“Shut up, Roach.”

The touch on his head paused for a moment before resuming again.

“You can call me by my first name, too, y’know. You do know it, right?”

Ghost lifted his head to give the other an unimpressed look and instantly knew the image would be printed on the back of his eyelids. Roach, leaned back with the pink on his cheeks complimenting the soft, dark brown of his eyes while his dick was still hot and hard in Ghost’s hand. Ghost knew he should take in as much as he could now before it all ended.

“How could I not know the name of my most stubborn sergeant?”

Roach’s face took on an exasperated look. “Always something smart from you…” The corner of his mouth lifted before a hand slid down to the short hairs along Ghost’s neck, pressing harder against him. “Put that mouth back to better use.”

A hot flash of arousal shot through Ghost at the low tone, weak to let Roach’s hand guide him back down until his lips were brushing the pink tip of his dick. 

That was something… interesting, apparently. Ghost was learning all kinds of new things about himself, all from the hands of this annoying sergeant. 

He whispered against the sticky skin there, wanting to get the last word in. “Gary.”

Ghost parted his lips and took Roach in his mouth before he could respond, lathing his tongue along the underside until it was slick again. He picked up the quick pace he had left off at, chasing his hand and hollowing his cheeks. 

Roach cut off a moan with a hand between his teeth, his grip tightening against Ghost’s neck. He wondered if there would be bruises left there tomorrow, proof that this even happened and it wasn’t some sick dream again.

He could tell the other was close from the way his muscles tensed as he moved up and down. Hell, Ghost was so hard himself he wouldn’t be surprised if just the brush of his pants was enough to send him over. 

He just about did when he heard the sergeant speak with a raspy voice under his breath.

“Fucking hell, Simon. You look so fuckin’ hot like this.”

Heat burned low in Ghost’s stomach at that, spreading through his entire body until it felt like he was going to combust. He flattened his tongue against the underside of his dick, pressing against that sensitive spot just under the head until he could hear Roach’s breath quicken.

“You are so god damn- Fuck, wait.” Roach stuttered out as a moan climbed up his throat. “Wait, Simon, I’m gonna-.” 

Ghost didn’t even think about it as he continued, caught off guard when he could feel something hot hit the back of his throat. He pulled off, coughing and spitting out the bitter taste into the grass next to them and took a moment to catch his breath, rolling his jaw around to loosen the stiff ache that built up. 

When he finally looked up, he found Roach watching him with a concerned look on his face and his hands up in the air placatingly.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to- I mean, it happened so fast.”

Ghost froze for a moment, unable to quite connect the almost bashful sight of Roach now and the husky words that he had said mere minutes ago.

He couldn’t help the laugh that he huffed out before he fully straightened out, stretching his sore back from the awkward, hunched over position he had been in. 

“You’re somethin’ else.” 

He took too much joy to watch Roach’s face flush as he replied indignantly. 

“What?!” 

Ghost only smiled and couldn’t resist the urge to pitch forward, planting his hands beside the other and pressing a kiss to his lips. Roach met him in kind while his hands came to loosely hold against Ghost’s side. 

This was…nice, he realized. It seemed like more than just something quick and rushed and Ghost didn’t know how he should feel about it. Was scared to name what he was truly feeling.

Roach pulled back just enough to murmur against his lips. “Should I…?” One of his hands slid lower to hang off Ghost’s hip.

Just the touch was enough to reignite the arousal in his gut but there was some lingering voice in the back of his head that it wasn’t something the other would want to do. That he should be more than happy he’s even got to do this with Roach at all.

“It’s okay, love.” Ghost pressed another kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to.” 

Roach tutted. “But I want to.” 

Roach didn’t give him the time to respond before he was scooching closer and undoing the strap of his belt to shove a hand in his underwear, forcing the breath from Ghost’s lungs. 

Roach’s hand was impossibly warm, wrapped around him with a steady grip that began to slowly move. The touch alone was enough to send tingles throughout Ghost’s body and tighten each muscle, rendering him weak to let his head fall against the other’s shoulder. Roach’s legs were still caging him in on the sides, keeping him trapped in the spot that he had no intention of leaving.

Ghost shuddered when Roach swiped his thumb over the head, teasing along the edge in a way that made him nearly beg for more. Roach must’ve known what he was doing because Ghost could feel the smile on his lips when the sergeant tilted his head to press kisses along Ghost’s cheek. 

He jerked his hand faster as he dragged his lips down against the underside of Ghost’s jaw to the column of his neck and then the space above his clavicle, mapping the expanse of his skin. Ghost couldn’t bite back the faint needy noise that he pressed against Roach’s neck.

Ghost was already close, feeling the pressure mount low in his groin embarrassingly fast. 

Roach didn’t let up, only pulling his underwear down enough for his dick to spring out so he could move faster. 

It only took a few more moments before that build up came, his muscles tensing near painfully as the pleasure shot through him. 

“Gary-.” Ghost groaned out before cutting himself off into the meat of Roach’s shoulder.

Roach worked him through it, his hand pulling every last shock until Ghost felt sensitive from the touch. It was unlike anything he had felt before, at least from what he could remember, never having been so completely turned on and coming to the point he could hear ringing in his ears. 

The bone-tired exhaustion came next as Ghost practically melted against the sergeant, leaning his weight against him and wrapping his arms around him with a long exhale. Roach did the same with his one arm, leaving the one covered in his mess still between them.

Ghost enjoyed the few moments of peace, letting his mind remain blank and content from the pleasure. He only wished they were somewhere else, someplace more comfortable where they could actually lay down to bask in the afterglow. 

Roach was the first to break the silence.

“That was…” He awkwardly cut off. 

Ghost grimaced, already feeling the first wave of dread crash over him. He pulled back, stealing a look at the other before glancing away. His eyes caught the sight of Roach’s hand laying between them, covered in his come and that feeling climbed higher.

“Something we probably shouldn’t have done.”

“Uh.” Roach brought his clean hand to rub over his mouth and hesitantly tried to catch Ghost’s eyes. “I was going to say nice…”

“Oh-.” Ghost nearly choked, swallowing down that feeling of dread as he met Roach’s honest look. “Yeah, I uh. Me too. It was nice.” 

Roach only watched him for a moment before laughing out, making Ghost’s face burn in response. He thwacked the sergeant’s chest in retaliation but it just made him laugh a little harder.

“What’re you laughin’ at?” Ghost muttered but he couldn’t help the small upturn of his own lips.

“Just you.” 

Ghost only grumbled in response, fearing that if he said something it would get caught in his throat with the emotions building up there.

He reluctantly stepped back, fixing the strap of his belt before he realized Roach was stuck with his dirty hand. He moved to the side where he knew there were canteens of water and grabbed one, coming back to Roach and unscrewing the lid. 

The sergeant held his hands out while Ghost poured the water, rinsing them clean and then taking a swig of water himself. He held it out for the other when he drank enough.

Roach said a soft ‘thank you’ as he took it, taking a long drink and finishing up the bottle.

Ghost reached for both their discarded jackets on the ground, handing Roach’s over from where he still sat on the crate.

“So…” Roach hummed as he pulled on his top. “Jealous type, huh?”

Ghost felt heat climb back into his face while that familiar feeling of shame followed it. He kept his eyes down, putting more focus than needed into the zipper of his fleece. 

He stubbornly denied it, lying through his teeth. “No.” 

“No? So that’s not why you’ve been so touchy lately?” 

Ghost could feel the other’s eyes on him and hear the teasing lilt in his voice. 

“I meant it when I said you two piss me off.” 

There was no way in hell he was admitting that he was jealous like some kid in school. At least not anymore than he already did.

“I guess I don’t piss you off that much. Unless you’re trying to do this with Rust too.”

The words forced a grimace on Ghost’s face instantly, just the thought of that bothering him while Roach laughed at his reaction. He rolled his eyes at the other.

“Maybe you don’t piss me off as much.” 

Roach shot him a humorous grin. “Whatever you say, Simon.”

Ghost only huffed out in feigned annoyance, watching as the sergeant went to reach for his skull balaclava that had been left laying on the crate next to him. 

It made him realize how long he had it off, something he hadn’t done in front of someone else in a long time. He hadn’t even felt that crawling feeling under his skin that he was used to getting whenever someone so much as caught a glimpse.

Roach didn’t even say anything about his scars. Didn’t give him some pitiful look or looked in sick fascination, only watched him with an indescribable warmth. 

Roach brought the mask to his lap at first, running his fingers over the well worn fabric for a few moments before he held it out for Ghost to take. 

He stepped closer, not quite enough to stand between his legs again but where he could easily place his hands along Roach’s thighs. Ghost forced his hand to reach for the mask instead. 

“But honestly, there’s nothing for you to worry about. With Rust, I mean.” There was a hint of hesitance in Roach’s voice. “It’s not like that between us.” 

Ghost swallowed hard and nodded minutely, taking back his balaclava and letting his hand fall to the side. “I’m not worried.” 

He couldn’t deny the way his heart seized in his chest to hear that. 

“Good. You- uh, shouldn’t be.” 

Roach was watching him closely and Ghost could feel himself tipping forward before he knew it. It was like a gravitational pull that made him lift his other hand to cradle Roach’s cheek and lean in, something inevitable that he couldn’t fight. 

That was all he knew: how to fight. But Roach made him weak.

Ghost kissed him slow and soft, just a press of their lips that sent heat in his veins like molten lead. Roach met him in return with a gentleness that smoothed that searing burn, enveloping him like he was in the sun.

Ghost really thought he would regret this afterwards, that it would be something they never talked about and would avoid at all costs but instead there was something a lot like hope rising in his chest. Not that he knew what to do with it.

It could’ve been the way Roach was teasing him without fear of reprimand or how he was meeting his eyes instead of avoiding them. Maybe it was the small smile that the sergeant couldn’t keep off his lips or maybe that he could’ve already left, run away to never speak of it again, but instead he was here kissing him back.

Maybe things didn’t have to change, at least for the worse. Maybe Ghost could lower his walls and let Roach see him for who he really is. Would that really be so bad?

He pressed close for one last kiss, briefly tightening his hold along Roach’s cheek before parting from him. He only pulled back enough to open his eyes and meet the dark warmth of Roach’s, holding him there in a trance. 

He watched Roach’s lips move before he heard the words.

“Is this… a thing now?”

Ghost’s heart climbed higher in his chest, daring to speak what he knew he shouldn’t. “It can be.” 

“Okay.” Roach whispered back, a small smile of disbelief and wonder dawning over his face. 

Ghost felt his pulse stutter in response.

Gary. Gary. Gary.

How did this stubborn sergeant manage to crawl his way under his skin and take over every thought in his brain, awake or asleep, until there was nothing left? 

It was nerve wracking and scary and Ghost knew he wouldn’t take anything back in a heartbeat. 

He wanted to see, for the first time in a long time, what it would be like. To let his guard down and allow himself to feel something for once.  Maybe it would be okay to be scared. Maybe he could believe Gary, despite his wounds from before.