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MacTavish didn’t hold the cigar like a man who wasn’t used to smoking. Blue-grey smoke billowed from the end of it, thick and heavy between them, as he sat, rifle laying in his lap with the muzzle pointed towards the forest. In the dim light, the furrow in his eyebrow was dark, the scar through his eye deep enough to make it look fresh.
in which ghost finds mactavish on the night of an anniversary :)
Series
- Part 53 of yours to keep
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“I’m not tired,” Ghost shrugged, and made sure the door was fully closed before starting towards the bench, hands squeezing into fists. “Intel gathering’s always a load of bollocks. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to see you.”
He was only half joking, but MacTavish blinked, smoke curling from his mouth, and several emotions, one more unreadable than the next, before they were all neatly tucked away—
“Oh?”
He did that often, really; Ghost would say something, or do something, and for a second, something else would flash across his face. Ghost wished, sometimes, that he was as good at reading expressions as he was reading where someone was likely to strike, so that he had some idea of what he was thinking.
Ghost snorted around smoke at his indignation, smile widening, and then for a second, that long, inscrutable look passed over his face again as he looked at the smile for a second too long.
And— and, for a second, Ghost nearly asked what it all was.
Because he wasn’t blind. He knew what it looked like, and he knew what the other members of the 141 teased him about, and he knew about the lingering glances, and the long, quiet nights, and the words MacTavish said to him in the dead of night, too good to have made up in some sort of dream.
It was just them. He could feel the heat radiating off of him, even through the gear, taste the scent of cigar smoke on his lips, and it was just them— but then, all too soon, MacTavish’s eyes fell back on the edge of the forest, checking for hostiles, and the moment disappeared.
i love them so much they're so stupid
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Bookmark Notes:
no soul to sell by Anonymous
Part 53 of yours to keep
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