Chapter Text
They get back to base in good time and then are sent to shower and dress in more casual clothes.
Despite having been with Task Force 141 for a couple months now, König still feels a creeping sense of anxiety whenever he walks around without his face covered. However, he fears Ghost seeing him wearing a mask too as a challenge far more than he feels nervous about his face showing.
More than anything, he wants to avoid conflict with the man. He’s not sure why the tension between them seems to always be so high, but he refuses to be the one who pops that bubble.
The debrief was quick and ruthless, Ghost verbally flogging each of them thoroughly. König keeps his eyes down throughout it, feeling each and every expression with brutal accuracy as they pass on his face. He wishes he had something to cover it but settles on the fact that none of the other men look much better than him to bring him comfort.
Roach, for one, looks downright miserable.
His eyes are sunken and his face long, saying very little during the meeting and B-lining it out of the room when they’re dismissed.
König can’t help himself—he follows.
“Go away, König,” Roach calls over his shoulder, but König shakes his head, jogging to catch up with the man.
“I’m sorry,” he says when he’s next to Roach, matching his quick pace. Lucky for him, his long legs make that easy. “It’s my fault. I should not have argued with you.”
Roach’s eyes turn to him, but he keeps his face pointed forwards. König can’t help but think of the pout on Roach’s face as cute. He feels his cheeks burn at the thought, so he quickly turns his head away.
“It’s not your fault, you were just saying your thoughts. I should’ve stood my ground.”
König shakes his head. “Still. I’ve been here longer than you, it is my responsibility.”
Roach fully faces him now, stopping his walking and looking up at the man. König feels himself shift under his gaze, imagining those soft pink lips on his for a moment.
Inappropriate, he scolds himself.
“Guess it’s both our faults, then. Hm?”
König is a little taken aback by that and lets out a soft laugh. “I suppose so.”
Roach cocks his head and his eyes roam König’s face. Once again, he wishes he had his hood on. Maybe even some eyeblack, anything to cover his expressions even the slightest bit. He always wore his emotions blatantly, and Roach’s scrutiny would be able to pick up everything.
“I’m not upset with you, if that’s the problem. We’re a team,” Roach says softly, a small smile on his face that only makes König’s own flare up even more.
“No! That’s not, uhm,” he rolls his shoulders. “Have you eaten yet?” He mentally facepalms after that. Of course he hadn’t eaten—everyone went straight to the meeting after hitting the showers. None of them have eaten.
Roach doesn’t seem to notice the pointlessness of the question, giving an honest “No” in response.
“Want to go to mess together? And then, there’s a bar I’ve heard talk of. We could get some drinks.” König swears his stomach is tied in knots by the request. He’d rather be in the field right now, picking some terrorist up and slamming his spine over his knee. At least that is easy.
Roach smiles. “Sure.”
Unfortunately, Ghost is at the mess hall. Soap is with him, and when he catches sight of Roach and König, he flags them down to sit with them.
It seems that Soap and Roach are the only ones happy to see everyone, and König stares at the table as he sits next to Soap, Roach taking the seat next to Ghost.
“No hard feelin’s on that exercise, right?” Soap asks the two of them. “Ghost was just bein’ a hardass ‘cause he cares. I’m tellin’ ye this ‘cause he’s too shy to say it ‘imself.”
Roach laughs. “You got me good, Lieutenant. Felt my lunch come up for a sec, when you hit me.”
Ghost rolls his eyes from behind his balaclava, pushing it up over his nose so he can eat. König can’t help but stare at the twin scars slicing through his lips, almost making a V across his mouth. Ghost’s gaze flickers to König’s, and he quickly looks away.
Soap leads most of the conversation, and Roach, for the most part, is the only one to follow. Ghost occasionally rises to Soap’s bait, and König can’t help but comment when the conversation turns to field tactics.
By the end, König feels more comfortable with the men—even Ghost. Seeing him interact with Soap makes him seem far more human than he lets on, and König can’t help his appreciation for how he treats Roach. Like he’s a real part of the team, despite being the newest member.
Maybe he’s a little jealous, but he wouldn’t admit that with a gun pointed at his head.
By the end of their meal, Soap nods at the two of them.
“You two doin’ anythin’ after this?” He asks, and Ghost turns a glare over to him. “Simon ‘n’ I are gonna go out on th’ town, tonight. Wanna join us?”
König stills and looks down at his empty tray. He wanted tonight to be just him and Roach. He didn’t expect anything to come out of the night out, but three is a crowd, and four is a party. Having Ghost be one of those four sounds like a nightmare of a night out, even if the animosity has died down.
On the other hand, this is his team. He can’t just decline for no reason after Soap was nice enough to invite him out with them.
He reluctantly opens his mouth to accept but is beaten to the punch by Roach.
“We actually have to be somewhere tonight, sorry,” he says, smiling. “Thanks for the invite, though. Hope you two enjoy your night.”
Soap nods and slaps König on the shoulder as he gets up with Ghost. “No problem, fellas. See ye later, aye?”
“Yeah, see you,” Roach replies. Ghost gives them a nod as they leave, and König nods back to both of them.
After the two are gone, Roach looks back to König.
“Hope I didn’t just ruin your night by declining,” he laughs. “Kinda took control of that.”
König shakes his head quickly, raising his hands a little bit. “No, no! Completely fine.” One of his hands moves behind his neck, where he rubs at the skin he finds.
Roach grins. “So, what place were you planning?”
König pauses before he remembers what they were even talking about, having gotten distracted looking at the way Roach’s lips part around his teeth when he smiles. “Oh, a place near here. I heard they have a military discount, too.”
“Thank God. They don’t pay us enough for me to pay regular prices.”
König’s eyes widen at that. “I can pay! I have more than enough.”
“Save that for the ladies,” Roach chuckles, standing from the table.
König stays seated for a moment, Roach’s words clanking around in his skull, making his stomach feel queasy. He didn’t want to expect anything from this night out, but Roach’s words still sting. He’s not surprised that Roach is straight. Of course not; most people are. He swallows down bitter disappointment, anyway.
Eventually, he picks up on Roach’s queue that he’s ready to leave and stands as well, leading Roach to the base’s garage. A few civilian vehicles are stored there to be used by the soldiers when they want to go out on the town. Most are already missing, but König is able to find a plain black coup available for the night.
He signs it out and takes the keys, getting into the driver’s seat and taking longer than he wishes he needed to adjust the seat and mirrors to his height. He moves the seat as far back as possible, leaning forward to adjust the rearview mirror and then checking his side mirrors.
When he turns to check his left one, he meets eyes with Roach, who is looking at him with an expression he can’t quite place. Entertainment, maybe?
Before he can decipher it, Roach looks away and laughs softly. “Sometimes I get jealous of how tall you are, but you make it kinda tough when you have to do all this shit just to get in a car.”
König huffs. “It’s not that bad.”
“I think I prefer my height. Being able to fit through windows is a lot more helpful than I thought it’d be.”
“I could’ve knocked down the door.”
“And create a racket?” He laughs. “Hell no, stealth is where it’s at.”
Rolling his eyes, König puts the car into drive and starts on his way to the bar. It’s only about a ten-minute drive, and he feels himself begin to tighten his grip on the wheel as he thinks about the man next to him.
He clearly has no intentions with König. This is just a night out between teammates—maybe even friends, but this is not a prelude to something else. He keeps that as a mantra in his head as he focuses on the road ahead.
“Oh, wait, how’re we getting back?” Roach questions, cocking his head in that ador— way. In that way of his.
König shrugs. “I don’t get drunk, I’m too big,” he explains. “There are never enough drinks to raise my blood-alcohol level.”
“Aw, that kinda sucks, doesn’t it?”
“Not really. I would be a bull in a china shop, if I managed.”
A laugh. “You’re not that much of a clutz.”
“You know, when I joined the army, I wanted to be a sniper.”
“Really?”
“Yes, and why am I not?”
Roach hums before tossing out a guess. “Clumsy?”
“Aye. Too big, and I can’t sit still long enough. I was crushed! I went home and cried for hours, when they told me.”
Roach keels over laughing, and König smiles to himself at the memory. He had been upset for a long time after being told he couldn’t be a sniper, but it’s been a while since then. The sound of Roach’s laughter certainly makes it a sweeter memory to bring up.
“It’s not so bad, though, yeah? I mean, you look fuckin’ badass on the field, so at least you have that,” Roach says once his laughter dies down. “Is that why you wear a sniper’s hood?
König pulls the car over to the curb of the road, only a few paces from the bar. “Ah, yeah. A bit of a homage, I suppose.”
“It’s cute,” he says and then gets out of the car before König can recover from his spluttering.
He eventually gets a hold of himself and exits to follow Roach, rounding the front of the car to catch up with him.
“Cute? How is it cute?”
Roach smiles, and König quickly realizes just how close he is to the shorter man; enough that he’s tipping his head back a little to meet his eyes. “You look like a turtle in it. A cute one.”
König’s face erupts in heat and he has to fight the urge to raise his hands and cover it.
Roach laughs and slaps him on the back, pushing him slightly to get him to start walking to the bar. Neither of them are carded, and Roach jabs König with his elbow.
“Finally starting to look my age,” he whispers. They’re still within earshot of the bouncers, and König worriedly looks back behind him to ensure they’re not paying attention to them. “I swear, I’m thirty!”
König uses the statement as an excuse to study Roach’s face. The lighting in the bar is dim, disguising some of Roach’s finer details, but König can still appreciate what matters.
Soft lips, long eyelashes, short stubble, pretty brown eyes that look so much like home—
“Bar?”
König looks at Roach blankly.
“Bar or table? Bar, right?”
His eyes widen slightly when he realizes what Roach is asking. “Oh, yes, bar sounds good,” he weakly exclaims, cringing at how abnormally loud his voice is compared to how loud it should’ve been.
Roach leads him to a pair of empty stools, both of them taking a seat and ordering their drinks. König gets a simple beer, while Roach orders something sixty proof and fruity. He can’t help but raise his brow at the other man’s order, who grins and shrugs.
“Hey man, you picked driver. I’m not wasting my chance.”