Chapter Text
I
The back of the base was peaceful.
At least, it was more peaceful than the base itself, where everyone was congratulating you on your birthday.
It was nice of them to congratulate you, but you got tired of the forced happy birthdays and the fake smiles.
Bravo Team was planning you something, you were sure of it, and you really loved them and were very thankful for whatever they were going to do, but you needed a break.
You didn’t celebrate your birthday in past years, there was no use in celebrating it when you were all alone in the world, but then you arrived at the 141 and everyone was like a family and there was a board in the mess hall with everyone’s names and their birthdays.
You have never seen that one before, but you hesitated to give your birthday until you realize that there were no ill intentions behind it and that celebrating your birthday with people close to your heart for the first time in a long time, was…beautiful.
But this year, you were a little overwhelmed with how much people congratulated you. It wasn’t just your team; other teams were added to the celebration and that kind of…lost its cheer.
Besides, you weren’t a people person, and it was very awkward to stand in a place so crowded.
So, you did the first thing you thought of doing.
You ran.
You hid.
And here you were, in silence, watching the electrical fence a few feet from you, the electrical fence that marked the end of the base like some type of cage.
The military was some cage anyway, a cage that made you forget about your past problems.
You weren’t complaining exactly; it was just an observation.
You tense when you hear steps approaching.
For a moment, you thought of hiding away, but it was too late. The steps had a face when they rounded the corner and your eyes found them.
To your surprise, it was just Roach, and that brought some sense of calm.
You think you’d not feel the same if it was Soap, who was probably the responsible one for the party they were going to throw you as soon as you entered the building again.
His eyes smiled when they saw you and he stopped at the corner for a moment, keeping his distance, as if he knew you were uncomfortable, and he wanted to give you space.
You guess that introverts understand each other very well.
“Hi, Sugar”, he signs, and not even a second after, you are repeating the hello sign, just as he taught you. You did not repeat the second one.
Roach was quiet but observant, he was kind of a control freak too, and liked to make sure things were perfect, but he was a good listener and because he was very observant, he could read you like a fucking book.
He was the first one who approached when you first arrived. You were overwhelmed, anxiety all over the place, and he was the one who showed you this place at the back of the base and told you he liked to come when Soap and Gaz were too much to handle.
He also liked to sit down there and write whatever came to his mind. Sometimes it was poems, sometimes it was songs. He never shared them with anyone, but you knew they were in that notebook he always carried around. He always wrote everything down; he has been doing it since he was little and lost his parents to a terrible car accident.
His grandmother told him that words were the best way to cope with things because written words would never hurt anyone, not like punches, which was what his grandfather told him to do when he was angry.
He swears he has a lot of those notebooks, but he never shares them.
You respect that.
You respect someone who has a lot of feelings, you understand that.
“I’m sorry about people”, he signs, while his words reflect on his face.
He was apologetic.
“Not your fault”, you answered.
It took you a while to learn sign language to understand him. He was very patient, too patient to be honest. Before that, you communicated with pens and papers like naughty students in the middle of class. Price caught the two of you more than once and, now it was funny but back then it had been very embarrassing.
Roach was a friend.
A true friend.
And there was no gesture, sign, or word to describe how thankful you were for him.
Your only hope was for him to know it already.
“A party is a great excuse for alcohol, and they like that a lot”, you chuckle. “Sorry that it isn’t really about you”.
You roll your eyes, but you are actually amused.
There is a moment or two of silence in which he approaches slowly until he is just a few feet away from you.
He then sits down beside you and stares at the electric fence as you have been doing.
“Is a little overwhelming to hear them all congratulate me when, a few years ago, there was no one to celebrate this day with me”.
He turns his head a little to look at you, but you turn yours completely.
His brown eyes are big and knowing. You have watched them a lot of times since you joined the Task Force, they speak a lot, more than his hands or his mouth.
“I have been alone most of my life”.
“That doesn’t mean you should be alone the rest of it”.
Something inside moves like it usually does when Roach is around you. There is something soft about him, something safe, something understanding.
It was crazy and overwhelming, and you were still kind of in denial about it, but with each minute in his presence, it was like…going back home after a terrible day and sitting down on the couch, the safest place you knew.
“Happy Birthday, by the way”, he signs, and you crack a smile that soon after turns into a chuckle. “I intended to tell you earlier, but you have been running around all day. Later Soap couldn’t find you, so I guessed you’d be hiding”.
“I’m an open book for you”.
“I’ll take that as a compliment”.
“Is not”.
“Why not?”
You stay in silence.
“Isn’t that a weakness?”
“I’m your teammate, we work for the same side, is alright to be weak for me”.
Your heart aches and for a moment you think you’ll cry.
He pats you on the shoulder then and you let go a very long and heavy sigh.
His hand is heavy, grounding and warm. Maybe it had to do with him not wearing gloves for once.
“Talking about books, I have something for you that will cheer you up”, you looked at him confused, but excited at the same time.
He moved beside you then until he produced a hardcover book from the inside of his jacket.
He extended it to you and your heart gave a summersault in your chest when you saw the cover.
“Roach!”, you exclaimed but you could hear his chuckle while your eyes went all blurry.
“Told you it was going to cheer you up”.
“But – you shouldn’t have – how on Earth –?”, emotions didn’t let you finish.
All you can do is grin and watch the cover of the book like it wasn’t real.
This was the best gift ever.
The complete works of your favorite poet on Earth. It wasn’t supposed to be possible, even less in hardcover.
And yet, here it was, in your hands and you were crying all over it.
When you look back at Roach he is grinning, with his nice pair of teeth and his freckled face. His hair perfectly styled hair was far from perfect thanks to the breeze blowing, but in that moment, he was perfect, he was the most perfect human you have encountered in this damn world.
You do something you know will be crossing a line, but you were teammates, there were no lines, right?
You jump into him in a hug while your tears fall.
He is surprised by it; you know because he tenses and doesn’t hug you back for a moment. But then you sob in his neck and his arms are around your waist in a moment.
He is warm, his hold is tight on you but not too tight, like he knows the perfect way to hold you even if he hadn’t held you ever before.
“Thank you, Roach, yar the best”.
And then he chuckles and his chuckle rumbles all over your being and it shocks you to the core and you close your eyes and exhale and then you inhale and all you can smell is him.
This weird smell you hadn’t figured out yet that is always lingering on him. It reminds you of a farm, of green grass, horses, and wood.
You have never dared to tell him so, but he must know.
You separate from him in a moment, you dry your tears, and he fixes your hair, even if you couldn’t care less about it.
“Where you got it?”
“A wizard doesn’t reveal its magic tricks”, you roll your eyes with a chuckle in your throat.
“Alright, keep your secrets”.
“Nerd”.
“Says the one who explained to me the entire plot of The Hobbit the first time we met”.
“I was trying to make small talk”.
“Believe me, Sanderson, a conversation of one hour and forty minutes about your favorite book is not small talk”.
He rolls his eyes.
“How ungrateful you are. Gimme the book back”, and then he tries to snatch it from you but you pull it out of his reach.
“No, is my birthday gift”, and you put it against your chest, making him know that it was that precious already.
He simply smiles at you before he pocks you in the arm.
A few minutes later, when you two were entering the common room, everyone screamed Happy Birthday and it was so sudden and so unexpected that you ended up in Roach’s arms.
Thank God no one made a comment about it, even if when you looked at Roach, he was wiggling his eyebrows.
You hit him with the book, and he made a fake hurt sound before Soap walked over to give you a big bear hug.
Your birthday wasn’t bad after all.