Chapter Text
A week or two had passed since that mission.
Ghost was already getting bored on base, with no missions to keep him moving. He spent a lot of time in the gym, sure—but that still wasn’t good enough for him.
Ghost liked to keep himself moving. It helped him stay fit, and distract himself when the memories got too bad.
He had also started hanging out with Roach more. Not that he would admit that, anyway.
Roach had finally started to acknowledge Ghost more. Which made Ghost way happier than he would confess. He really enjoyed hanging out with Roach, actually. And—based on Roach’s body language—Roach liked hanging out with him too.
The two made a weird pair, admittedly. Roach never spoke. And Ghost was only slightly more talkative. But that didn’t seem to bother either of them.
Ghost had yet to figure out why Roach never spoke. He had begged Price and MacTavish to take even just a quick look at Roach’s file, but was denied every time. It was reasonable in his eyes, privacy and all that. Still—Ghost was a curious person.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
Ghost and Roach were sitting across from each other at the mess hall as they ate.
Ghost had insisted on facing the door, like he always did. Roach had never figured out why Ghost practically needed to face the exit—but Roach never really minded regardless.
In Roachs eyes, Ghost was just his cool lieutenant. And, if he was being honest, Ghost was his favorite person on the team, even if he couldn’t say it.
Well—he could say it, technically.
Roach wasn’t completely mute, only selectively. He just never told Ghost about it because he thought it was funny to watch Ghost attempt to understand his hand gestures.
Roach also knew American Sign Language, picking it up during his childhood. Although, ASL isn’t all that helpful when one is in the British Military, so Roach had decided complete silence was the easiest option.
‘Maybe I should start learning British Sign Language’ Roach thought to himself.
“You good, mate?” Ghost questioned, snapping Roach out of his thoughts. The idea will have to wait until later, then.
Roach only nodded and hummed softly in response. He finally glanced back up from his food to Ghost’s masked face.
Ghost hadn’t taken his mask fully off to eat like Roach did. Instead, the bottom of it was pushed up to rest on the bridge of his nose as he ate.
Roach found it kind of funny, the way Ghost took keeping his face hidden so seriously. He would probably get stabbed by Ghost for saying that, though. Luckily Roach knew how to be quiet.
Ghost gave a small huff as the saw the amused expression on Roach’s face, already knowing what he was thinking.
“Sanderson.” Damnit. Ghost was, apparently, a /lot/ more observant than Roach thought.
“Hm?” Roach hummed, tilting his head to the side slightly in an attempt to act innocent.
“Don’t look at me like that,” Ghost responded, taking a bite of whatever-the-fuck the mess hall chefs had come up with today.
Roach only sighed softly and nodded, knowing Ghost was serious. He had half a mind to speak just to throw off Ghost, but he decided against it. Maybe another day, though.
Ghost—once again—had seen the small smirk on Roach’s face, but decided against mentioning it. His little smirk was kind of cute, honestly.
Fucking hell.
Ghost quickly brushed off that thought and continued to eat his lunch.
His smile isn’t cute. Roach isn’t cute. He’s a grown ass man in special forces. Ghost shouldn’t think that. He shouldn’t think anyone is cute, actually.
Roach had noticed the slight shift in Ghost’s face, but didn’t mention it. Ghost was probably just having a bad day. He had been more snappy lately.
Roach didn’t know why Ghost’s mood had suddenly shifted. He didn’t want to press Ghost for answers, though. That would probably make it worse, honestly.
~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•
The pair had quickly finished their food and walked out of the mess hall together.
Ghost needed a cigarette, and Roach was happily tagging along because neither of them had anything better to do. Plus Roach was the only one Ghost would share cigarettes with.
Roach liked the way Ghost was slightly nicer to him in comparison to the others. He didn’t know why Ghost acted differently—but he wasn’t going to ask and potentially ruin it.
And Ghost knew he treated Roach better than the others. If he was being honest, he didn’t know either. Maybe he liked the feeling of protecting someone. Maybe it was because he thought Roach was cute.
Stop it, Riley.
It didn’t matter to either of them, really. Roach liked being Ghost’s favorite, and Ghost didn’t plan on stopping it.
Once they had finally made it outside, Ghost had offered Roach a cigarette. Roach had happily taken it, of course.
The two stood in silence for a while as they smoked, staring at the practically empty horizon.
“You know, you still haven’t told me why you don’t speak,” Ghost commented, watching as the cloud of smoke he had just exhaled dissipate into the air.
Roach shrugged softly as he took a drag from his cigarette.
Unlike Ghost, Roach had his mask all the way off, a hat and pair of tinted sunglasses covering his eyes and hair.
Ghost, on the other hand, had his mask pushed onto the bridge of his nose again, the same way he had it when eating.
The sound of Ghost’s boot stamping out the rest of his cigarette drew Roach’s attention, glancing at where the crushed filter sat before finishing his cigarette and doing the same.
Ghost watched as Roach stomped out his cigarette. Maybe they really were a bit more alike than Ghost thought. Maybe that’s why Ghost was so drawn to Roach—he could see himself in Roach.
God he wanted to be in Roach.
Christ.
Ghost felt his face heat up under the mask slightly at the thought of having Roach like that, silently grateful for the mask hiding his blush.
‘I’m not gay.’ Ghost thought to himself. He didn’t have anything against lgbtq people, he just never thought of himself as part of the community.
Ghost was dragged out of his thoughts when he felt Roach put his hand on his shoulder, silently asking if he was okay.
Ghost simply nodded and continued to stare at the horizon, the sun gradually getting lower in the sky.
God he needed to get his shit together— quickly.