#considering they havent restocked in over a month

[saintship]

Hii. Saw your requests for Gaz post and of course I have to ask for something!

A neighbour Gaz fic/headcanon. Maybe him having a crush on reader and looking for ways to talk to her (neutral reader is fine too).

I havent seen any neighbour Gaz fics around here.

If not, a coworker Gaz slow burn would be great too!

Thank you 😊

I just read this amazing neighbor fic that might be what you’re looking for, and then I wrote a coworker slow burn here just so you have both concepts to read :)

Hope you like it!

Warnings: Slow build, hurt/comfort, kiss + confession, Graves cameo

Solid Copy - Gaz x Reader

FSS, M4, Fennec..

You leaned down to check each weapon's case, kneeling on the armory's concrete floor. Inventory wasn't the most exciting of the grunt work needed on base, but the repetition was nice. Not many others thought the same, however, always scrambling for a different assignment and leaving you with this one. That is, all except one Sergeant that you'd met your first day on site. Gaz happily paired up with you to stock or organize. You assumed he just needed a break from so many operations he'd been a part of that year, so many unpredictable events after one another. It wasn't often he caught a break.

It wasn’t the first time he’d had the kindness of joining you in a boring task, whether it be inventory, restocking, guard duty, or cafeteria, he always seemed to be there.

If anyone else had chosen to be around you so often, you might have been a little freaked out, but this was different, especially as the months passed and you were more familiar with everyone. A year passed by so quickly you hardly noticed it was that time again; that dead leaves littered the entrance and the wind blew colder every day. The first day there was snow, Gaz had found you on your break standing outside looking at it all. He teased you, but only to get you to turn your back so he could haul a snowball right at the sensitive nape of your neck. He'd ended up losing that battle, though he'd swear up and down for all his days it was a tie.

Two months with no deployments for the task force meant the return of those dull odd jobs. Tonight was cafeteria deep clean, a task out of many that you didn’t consider when you were enlisting. But Gaz was there, as always. You could hear him shuffle around, dropping things and making way too much noise as he cleaned the kitchen. A particularly loud crash caught your attention, your smile dropping to concern. You abandoned your mop, nearly slipping on the wet floor before vaulting the counter and looking around.

“I’m fine..” Gaz’s groan sounded from the back corner; he was pinned under a wooden palette holding an array of heavy steel pans.

“Oh- my god..” You rushed to lift the palette, thanking your weight training for your ability to push it up off Gaz’s leg.

“What did you do?”

“Nothing, it fell!” Gaz got to his feet, gesturing to the culprit.

“That thing is like 40 pounds, it didn’t fall.”

“Okay, maybe I was putting something back on the top shelf, which I can reach,”

“Jesus..” You kneeled to gather the pans that had fallen.

“And when I pulled back..” He trailed off, nodding to the mess with his hands on his hips. You looked up to tell him off again, but saw a large bruise forming below his eye.

“Gaz, your cheek..”

He huffed. “I’m not going red!”

“Will you shut up?” You stepped closer to feel the area, noticing his wince but not noticing the hitch in his breath.

“Are you dizzy?” You were close enough that you could speak quietly.

“No.. but, um, I think I’m hurt here too, you should check..” He directed you vaguely to his jaw, where a tiny bruise was barely visible.

You blinked, still lost at what his deal was, but examined it anyway. “I think we need to amputate.”

“Amputate my head?” A smile crept over his features, and now your breath was catching.

“Let’s just..clean this..”

“It was nice of you to check on me.”

When you looked up from where you crouched in the mess he’d made, he was grinning. You forced down the fluttering in your ribcage.

“Thought you’d gotten really hurt..” You placed a few of the pans back, and Gaz did the same until the floor was clear again.

“You were worried about me?” The teasing in his voice was clear as day; his embarrassment behind him.

“No. Just..whatever.” You slid back over the counter, mopping the rest of the floor without sparing a single glance. No matter how much you were dying to, especially when you felt his eyes burn into your back. You only turned when you felt the aluminum corner of a file poke your shoulder. You put away the cleaning equipment, taking the file from his hand.

“What’s this?”

“Emergency hostage rescue. Alejandro’s guys.”

You scanned the file as quickly as you could, shaking off the light feeling that seemed ridiculous now that you knew of this.

“Just the 141?”

“Backup is on standby, Price thinks the Shadows might show up and try to get the hostages first.”

“What does Graves want with Vaqueros?” You asked, looking up. Gaz only shook his head.

“Nothing nice, I reckon.”

Price leaned into the entryway of the cafeteria, slinging a rifle over his shoulder. “Wheels up in 10!”

“Aye, Captain!” Gaz chirped. You continued studying the file before filing it in your bag, accompanying Gaz to the briefing room. Your weapons and gear hadn’t even been stored since the last mission and you were already strapping all of it back on. The file hadn’t said much; there were at least a dozen Vaqueros being held against their will by a band of Hassan’s leftover soldiers.

“You’d think Hassan wouldn’t be able to give us any more grief with a bullet in his head.” Gaz grumbled as the both of you clambered into the helicopter.

“His men were young when he recruited them.” Price exhaled a breath of smoke, studying the horizon. “He preyed on the ones looking for a purpose. Teenagers love a revolution.”

“They won’t let his message die.” You finished quietly.

Gaz strapped into the seat beside you before raising a fist to connect with your own. “We will.”

The sun had risen fully by the time the heli touched the sand, the exposed terrain already heightening your awareness.

“Soap, Ghost, come in.” Price spoke into his radio.

“Opposite your position, descending the hillside. Target building in our sights.” Ghost replied.

“Wait there. Soap, get ready for your specialty.”

“Aye, sir. You spoil me.”

Price smiled. “Blow it up, Sergeant.”

“Engaging. Brace for debris.”

“How big is this bomb?” You asked.

“The entrance is built to hell, we need some serious force.”

Gaz leaned over to watch Soap plant the device from afar. “Sweet.”

“Planted.�� Soap chirped. “L.T.’s got the detonator.”

Price waited until Soap was at a good distance before carrying the order. “Light it up, Simon.”

“With pleasure.”

The entrance erupted in a brilliant light, bits of steel flying in every direction. Gaz watched for a moment before drawing back quickly.

“Shit..”

“What now?” You tugged on his shoulder to angle his face toward you.

“I’m fine.” A shard of steel had glanced over his forehead, narrowly missing his eye.

“You’re lucky.” You retorted.

“Focus..” Price glowered over his shoulder.

“Yes, sir.” Gaz wiped the blood away from his brow and moved up, you on his tail. The five of you circled the entrance, noting the silence.

“It’s quiet.” Ghost huffed.

“Actual, this is Price. Can we get confirmation we’re alone here?”

“This is Actual,” Kate’s voice replied through the radio system. “Your old friend got here first. Move in now.”

“Fuckin’ hell.” Ghost’s words bit the air as he tailed Price, you and the rest following behind. The halls were narrow; only two could fit lengthwise as you moved past the damp walls. A bolted door led to a stairwell to the basement, where shouting and commotion could be heard.

“Stay neutral for now.” Price murmured. All guns were stowed as you descended the stairs, bringing up the back end of the line. You heard Graves before you saw him.

“You will fuckin’ listen to me, or you’ll be sprayed against that wall, do you hear me?”

“Graves.” Price’s voice leveled with a twinge of threat.

He turned; his eyes lighting up in surprise.

“Well I’ll be.” Graves murmured, stalking forward. His rifle dangled at his side as if it was a toy.

“I’m afraid you’re being overridden. SAS has business here, your club does not.” Price walked up so he was looking down at him, emphasizing his taller stature.

Graves barked a short laugh, looking away before glancing back, a fire in his eyes. “Shadow Company is an enterprise. A haven for men held back by the military!”

“You’re fragile.” Your mouth moved faster than your head; that much was clear when Graves’ sharp eyes shifted to you.

“You’re new..” His voice growled with something that made you tense. “And you’re American. How’s that work, huh?”

“I’ll ask once.” Price seethed, stepping forward even further. “Leave. Now.”

“No can do, Cap’n.” Graves cocked his gun. “These young men have to go. And then your little Vaqueros—are going with me.”

“Over my fuckin’ corpse.” Ghost rumbled.

“And what a sight it’ll be.” Graves retorted.

You made the first shot; striking Graves in the abdomen. A non lethal wound; just what he deserved, in your opinion. The room erupted in gunshots, ricocheting bullets, and the rustic odor of fresh blood. The shadows that were there were mowed down until the room fell silent again. You looked to Gaz, his usually bright eyes a dark ochre as he stalked toward Graves. He picked him up by his vest, ignoring his groan as he was pushed against the wall and bound at his wrists; just as he’d done to the Arabic soldiers.

“These men need to be arrested, not executed, you fucking lunatic.” Gaz seethed.

“You don’t know shit about this world, son.” Graves heaved, blood staining his teeth. “If they’re alive, they’ll come back.”

“Not your decision to make, Graves.” Price replied. “Maybe it would be if you were a soldier.”

“I am a-" Graves huffed, his shortness of breath betraying his anger. “I am..”

“Sergeant, save his life so we can go. Now.” Price nodded to you, and you kneeled at Graves’ side, packing his wound.

“Gaz, let’s go. Still need to find Alejandro’s guys.”

He cast an uncertain glance at Graves before releasing his vest, following the team up the stairs while you worked a length of gauze into the bullet wound you’d ripped through the man in front of you.

“Why aren’t you shooting me?” Graves’ adrenaline hadn’t worn off; he was hyperventilating harder still.

“It’s the difference between military,” you secured the bandage patch. “and you.”

His eyes looked glassy; his breathing only worsening.

“Graves, breathe.” You held his shoulder. “You’re not going to die.”

“You..” His eyes flashed with hurt, confusion, anger. Anger at you, at the military, at himself. He shook his head roughly like a wet dog, grunting. "Fuckin' hell.."

"You need to breathe deeper." You reached to loosen his vest, though he flinched away for a moment before resigning to the improvement the breathing room gave him. You could tell his thanks was on the edge of his tongue, his pride holding back any sign of agreement.

He looked down, and groaned at the sight; it wasn't a clean shot.

"Don't." You ordered, your knuckle knocking his head upward by his chin. "It's worse than it looks."

"You'd know your own handiwork, huh?" He heaved. "You should be in the Army."

"Fine where I am."

"You sure, honey? I'm short a few marksmen thanks to your friends."

“On your feet." You heaved him upward, and nearly jumped out of your skin when you turned to see Gaz still watching from the bottom of the stairs.

“Gaz?”

Before he could respond, Soap was guiding Graves up the stairs, leaving you with your strangely silent friend.

“Is something wrong?”

Gaz sighed, pacing behind you, causing you to turn.

“You helped him.” His tone was low.

“Yes? It was an order.” Your brow furrowed.

“No..” Gaz glanced up at you, a glare in his eye you’d never seen before. “You helped him calm down. You comforted him.”

His disdain dripped with every word.

“Gaz, he was in shock.” You retorted. “What are you so suspicious of?”

“That you care about him. You care about that piece of shit.” Gaz gestured vaguely.

“I barely know him; how did you jump to this?”

“I’m not jumping to anything, I saw you-"

“You saw me do my job!”

"That was not what that was.”

“Gaz, why do you care so much?”

“Because I care about you!”

It was the only time he’d ever, ever raised his voice at you. The first time you’d seen tears well in his eyes, even though he’d never let them fall in front of you.

“If he were to lay a fucking finger on you, I-" Gaz tensed his fists, his eyes closing and his brow gathering in a frustrated pattern.

“I don’t.. " You stared, speechless. “Gaz..”

“Moving out, everyone to extraction.”

“I’m sorry.” It was all Gaz left you with before brushing past you and up the stairs.

The walk and flight back, the debrief, the morning after in the cafeteria, he didn’t even look at you. His dark circles deepened, he didn’t eat, he didn’t go out with Soap to the pub near base. And of course, when other people noticed, they asked his closest friend what was going on; you. And then you were the one avoiding mealtimes and celebrations, because you couldn’t help them with their questions.

You missed him desperately; your tasks without him were dull and never ending, the entire time your mind only on one man.

Eventually you decided to accept Soap’s invitation to drinks; you needed to break the cycle you’d fallen into. You didn’t even dress up, sticking to the lighter layers of your uniform and a nice necklace to lighten it all.

The base was lucky to have such a cozy spot close by; most of the patrons were soldiers or veterans too. There were rumors of the bartender being Price’s placement instructor, but the Captain never indulged to confirm or deny.

You were a bit late, speed walking through the entrance over to the booth where Soap and Ghost were playing cards. You slid in next to Ghost, eyeing the bar where you saw Price, and next to him, Gaz.

“What’s with the kid, anyway?” Ghost leaned down to murmur in your ear. “Looks like shit.”

“Can’t argue.” Sop added.

You toyed with the card box, studying the pattern on the front to avoid Soap’s eyes. “I don’t know.”

“Weren’t you trained in covert operations? You should be a better liar.” Ghost laid down his hand.

“AYE, you wee scunner!”

“If you want to hurt my feelings, you need to do it in english.”

Soap huffed. “You fucking bitch.”

“There we are.” Ghost shuffled the deck while you looked astray, the music drifting around you seeming to quiet when Gaz cracked a smile at something Price said.

“Gonna shove you outta here in a minute.” Ghost remarked. “Fuckin’ talk to him, he’s useless.”

You sighed, tossing the box back on the table and pushing yourself to your feet. You casted a glance back, at which Soap gave you a dorky double-thumbs up. A sideways glance at Price gave him the message to fake a bathroom visit, leaving Gaz to drink from his bottle alone for a few minutes. You came up quietly, ordering something neat that came to mind before easing into the space beside him. Seeing you, he exhaled noisily, halfway out of his seat before you spoke.

“Please, Gaz..”

He allowed himself to relax back into the stool, facing forward.

“Just go.” His voice was gentler than you’d anticipated. The bartender handed you your drink, and you drank a mouthful.

“I don’t want to.” You said simply.

His leg began to bounce, and you wondered how good of an idea this was.

“I need to stay away from you. It’s the only way things can work smoothly.”

Your brow furrowed for a moment, and he noticed, closing his eyes while rubbing at his forehead.

“I care too much. It’s going to get somebody hurt.”

“How can you be sure if you won’t let it happen?” You replied slowly.

“I’ve seen it happen; it doesn’t work.”

You shook your head. “Gaz, I won’t just ignore you forever, you have to know that’s unreasonable.” Your voice shook for a moment. “You’re my squadmate, you’re my friend. I will not leave you to rot because you’re scared, that’s exactly when I should be with you.”

You didn’t know what possessed your words as you pleaded with him, but they were pouring out, and it felt right. Being beside him felt right.

Gaz looked into your eyes for the first time in weeks.

“I’ll hurt you.”

You took his hand.

“I’ll let you.”

Gaz stared for a few moments, his eyes darting to search your face for any insincerity. When he found nothing, he tugged you off the stool, leading you through moving bodies and clouds of cigar smoke to the curb outside.

“It’s freezing..” You looked up at him as he finally stopped, the street lamps illuminating his face.

“I’m sorry..” He absentmindedly ran his hands down your arms to warm you, the action furthering your confusion. "I just.."

"What is it?"

Gaz's breath was visible in the cold air, a puff that crowded between the two of you when he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. His hands held your head gently, and your arms found their way around his. He only stopped for a breath before leaning in again, his nose nudging against yours. He pulled you closer, kissed you longer. Between his exchanges, he breathed a simple phrase, as if he wanted to transfer the words into your very soul.

"I'm in love with you."