Friends Don't Look At Friends That Way

Part Four.

Hours later, you are stretched lazily across a loveseat in the common room, watching with quiet amusement as Gaz gets his ass handed to him by Price in Mario Kart. Round after round, the Captain manages to pull some secret trick from his sleeve that has him sliding into first place to leave Gaz sputtering in his wake.

"You're a bloody cheat, Cap!" Gaz hollers, motioning wildly to the screen. "You said you've never done this before!"

Ghost, who has been a silent observer of the Gaz slaughter, lets out a low chuckle. It's such a rare sound to hear that you can't help but turn your head his way, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"He laughs." You tease with a forced grin, to which you can see his mouth shift under the mask as if he was returning the gesture.

"She smiles." He reciprocates with his own observation. Your smile falters in response before you drop it in favor of chewing on your bottom lip, a habit you gravitate towards when you get anxious.

"Oh don't play dumb. You know exactly what the red shell does, you just used it to snake first place from me!" The argument that has ensued in the background pulls your attention away from your interaction with Ghost.

"Bout' time ye learned Cap is a hustler." The thick Scottish drawl sends your pulse racing as Soap enters the room, collapsing next to Ghost with an exhausted sigh. He is dawning his full set of tactical gear, his work day clearly running long if he hasn't bothered to remove it yet. You mentally scold yourself for wanting to drag your gaze down his long form, forcefully glueing your eyes to to the TV before you.

"What did you find out, Soap?" Price inquires, his mood shifting from playful to serious.

"Not enough. The target ye are havin' me watch keeps his business pretty tightly under wraps. Gettin' more information would require gettin' closer than I'd like." Everything about him right now is authoritative, strong. Every bit the leader you know is he fantastic at being. You find your eyes gravitating to where he sits, drinking in the way he has causally situated himself across the cushions. A muscled arm thrown across the back of the couch, the long fingers of one hand fiddling with the straps of his vest.

Those crystal blue eyes fixate on you and it feels like your heart stops. How he can ensnare you so thoroughly with just a look will always be such a mystery. You can't help but fidget under his stare which causes the corner of his mouth to quirk up.

"That is fair. I have another form of recon to discuss, but it can wait. You should get some rest." Price says firmly, the words an order rather than a suggestion.

"Will do. Headin' there now actually." There is unspoken invitation dancing in those bright eyes.

Damn that look. The one that seems to cut through every logical barrier you erect to protect your bleeding heart. It crumbles your resolve so thoroughly each time that in the aftermath there is barely any remains left to build it back up. Damn him. You answer his request with a small nod.

He uses that as his cue to give the group a quick goodnight, lingering on you just seconds too long before he heads off to his room. You know the rules. Count to 20, give them a believable excuse, the door will be unlocked. You've been through the motions more times than you care to admit, this routine coming as natural to you as breathing.

"Well boys, I am exhausted. I think I am gonna crash too." You let the seconds tick by slowly, keeping a nonchalant approach to your posture. "Cap, go easy on Gaz or we are going to end up with a repeat of the monopoly incident." Letting your feet carry you forward, you start your stride for the door but you only get a step or two before Ghost darts for your wrist, pulling you to a stop.

"Wait, come bum a smoke with me real quick." He isn't exactly asking, but there is a subtle look of pleading in what little the mask allows you to see of his face. Ghost has never extended you a personal invitation to spend time with him alone before, so why now? Guilt sweeps heavily through you as glance in the direction of Soap's room for a beat before looking back down at Ghost.

"Okay." You agree, following his lead from the room to a small balcony that rests on the outside of the common area.

The brisk night air kisses your skin, a slight breeze dancing through the strands of your hair.  You settle onto one of the patio chairs, bringing your knees to your chest. You observe silently as Ghost sits down across from you, fishing out a pack of cigarettes that looks to be half empty already. He fiddles with the box in his hands before slowly sliding one out.

"Let him sweat it out a bit." He says quietly. The sound almost spooks you with its contrast to the quiet evening surrounding you.

"What?" You choose to feign ignorance, not ready to give in to the mess that would come of admitting your little arrangement to Ghost.

"You give him what he wants too much." Silence follows except for the gentle metallic click of a lighter, then a long inhale. "Break his heart back for once."

You scoff, giving him a hard roll of your eyes though you're sure he can't even see it.

"I'm serious. You think I don't see what this shit does to you?" His tone grows perceptively colder,  angrier. "I noticed it months ago, but I wasn't sure what caused it until I saw you come out of Johnny's room last night. You use to be the light in this fucked up place."

You don't dare move, or even breathe, as Ghost's words pelt you like hail during a storm; leaving behind dings and scratches that seem surface level but do much deeper damage. It's one thing to even have the courage to acknowledge your own pain, but for someone else to rip the bandaids off your bullet wounds is something else entirely.

"I'm not saying to stop doing whatever it is that you two are even doing," Ghost sounds tired now, like these words are a burden and it's exhausting to unload them. "Just don't keep giving him all the power. If you are worth the fight, then give him one. That massive ego of his could use some humbling anyhow."

"This sounds like advice a friend would give." You say with a slight humor creeping in. This man just struck every possible raw nerve he could find but you're somehow joking with him.

"Oh pfft." He takes another extensive drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling lazily before him. "I wouldn't go that far, love. You're kinda alright, but friends? No way."

A wide grin tips up the previously downturned corners of your mouth and with a peek in Ghost's direction, his mask rolled to his nose, you can see his lips quivering as he tries his hardest to bite back his own smile.

"Thank you." You say with sincerity. Just as Gaz had, Ghost managed to lighten that ever growing load on your shoulders even if temporary. You slowly uncurl from the chair, shooting the dark figure one last teasing look. "I'll get to you one of these days, Simon. Just you wait."

You can't be sure, but as you slide back inside you swear you hear him say, "I'm counting on it, darling."