COD Oneshots

Tension (Roach)

The mission had gone sideways. Not that it surprised you. It seemed like every time you and Roach were paired up, things got a little too close for comfort. Not that either of you would admit that. The intel was secured, but for a while, it didn't look like it would be. As you both trudged back to the barracks, soaked with sweat and tension crackling between you, the arguments started.

"I told you we should've gone around the east side," Roach muttered, throwing his gear down as the door to the armory shut behind the three of you—him, you, and Gaz.

"You did, and it would've been a terrible idea," you snapped, pulling off your helmet and tossing it to the side. "We barely got out of there as it is!"

"Oh, so it's my fault now?"

You spun on your heel, eyes flashing. "You're the one who almost blew our cover trying to play hero. Do you always have to make everything about how much better you are?"

Roach stepped forward, clearly not backing down. "Better? Please, you're the one constantly acting like you know everything, like your way is the only way. Maybe if you listened for once, we wouldn't be in these situations!"

"Maybe if you stopped trying to outdo me all the time, we wouldn't be in these situations!" you countered, your voice rising. You could feel your pulse quicken, but you weren't sure if it was from the argument or the fact that Roach was suddenly standing way too close.

Gaz had been watching this dance for weeks now—months, even. He'd heard every back-and-forth, every biting remark, and had witnessed every heated glare you and Roach exchanged. It wasn't just competition fueling your clashes; there was something else there, thick and palpable. It was obvious to anyone with a set of eyes, except maybe to the two of you.

He'd had enough.

As your bickering escalated, Gaz wordlessly walked over to the door and pulled it shut behind him, locking it with a heavy click.

The sudden noise cut through the argument like a knife. You and Roach both turned to him, frowning.

"Gaz, what the hell are you doing?" Roach asked, his irritation turning to confusion.

Gaz crossed his arms, his expression unimpressed. "I'm not letting you two out until you sort this out. I'm sick of the constant arguing, and so is everyone else. Either work it out or kiss and make up—I don't care which, but do something other than fight. You're not getting out until you do."

Your heart skipped a beat at the word kiss, but you quickly shoved that thought aside. "Gaz, you can't be serious—"

"Oh, I'm dead serious. I'm locking the door behind me. Have fun." He turned on his heel, walking away before either of you could protest, leaving you and Roach alone in the room where they kept the team's armored outfits and other mission gear.

A tense silence fell over the room as Gaz's footsteps faded. You both stood there, not quite sure what to say, but the tension that had been simmering for so long felt unbearable now.

Roach exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "I can't believe he just did that."

"Well, maybe if you weren't such a pain in my ass, he wouldn't have to."

Roach scoffed, stepping closer again. "Yeah? And maybe if you didn't have to win every argument, we wouldn't be locked in here."

Your breath hitched. You could feel the heat radiating off of him now, the air between you heavy with unresolved emotions. The back-and-forth bickering, the competitive streaks, the way you always seemed to find yourselves in situations where you were testing each other—it wasn't just frustration. There was something else, and you both knew it.

"You know," Roach said, his voice low, "this might not be Gaz's worst idea."

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked up at him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means," he muttered, his eyes flicking down to your lips and back up to your eyes, "maybe we should stop pretending we hate this."

Before you could respond, Roach closed the gap between you, his hands grabbing your waist as his lips crashed onto yours. You responded just as fiercely, the pent-up frustration of months of arguing pouring out into the kiss. The heat between you was undeniable, and you felt the world fall away as your bodies pressed together, the tension between you finally snapping.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. His hands roamed your back, and you could feel the heat rising between you. For all the arguments and back-and-forths, this felt like something that had been a long time coming.

But, just as quickly as it had started, you were snapped out of the moment by the sound of the door unlocking.

Gaz's voice cut through the haze. "Alright, time's up! Let's see if you—oh, bloody hell."

You and Roach broke apart, both of you breathless, faces flushed. Gaz stood there in the doorway, eyes wide, but with a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

"I guess you worked it out, then?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Neither of you had the words, still caught up in the rush of what had just happened. You and Roach exchanged a glance, the heat still simmering between you, but this time, there was a flicker of something else—a silent understanding that whatever this was, it wasn't over.

Gaz just shook his head, clearly trying not to laugh. "Next time, just tell each other how you feel. Save the rest of us the headache." He turned and walked off, leaving the door wide open behind him.

You and Roach stood there for a beat longer, still catching your breath.

"Guess we'll have to thank Gaz for that later," Roach said, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a smirk.

"Yeah," you replied, finally allowing yourself to smile. "Maybe next time we don't wait so long."

Roach's smirk widened, and he leaned in again, his voice a low murmur. "Deal."