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akingdomscrypt · 2 days ago

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Forget-Me-Not

Part Two

Pairing : Gaz x male reader

WC : 7.35k

Summary : I warned y'all it would happen.

Warnings : referenced (minor) internalized homophobia, minor injuries, a teeny bit of panic. But that's all.

A/n : don't hate me 🧍

---"and here is how we end."---

Kyle was having a hard time focusing on the book in his lap, hardly digesting a single word on the page and far more enraptured by the warmth of your body pressed against his. Between lulls in work, when both of you had a bit of free time, you two could usually be found just outside the main building.

You're sitting on a smooth, flat stone, while Kyle rests against you. Back to your side, and his knees bent to prop a book up in his lap. The residual morning dew in the grass likely seeping into his clothes, but the heat rolling off you in waves, the peace of sitting beside you in complete silence, is worth the wet trousers later.

Sitting together while doing entirely different things—Kyle with his book, and you with that worn rubik’s cube, the colors faded and barely distinguishable now—was enough on its own for him to tolerate whatever feeling it was that made his heart beat a little faster, made his chest grow warm.

It had a likeness to adrenaline, the same sensation Kyle would get when on the chase, hunting down one target or another. This was different. You were simply sitting together, enjoying the company of one another.

“So why're you called that anyway?” You pipe up from beside him, and Kyle tears his gaze away from the book he had definitely been absorbed in. He sits up a bit straighter to get a proper look at those curious eyes.

“Hm?”

“Gaz,” you say, shifting on the little stone you are sitting on when Kyle moves away. Looking down and giving him your full attention. “Surely there's some sort of reason for it?”

“Ah,” folding the corner of the page he had been reading to mark his place, Kyle closes the book. “It's nothing special, really.”

“C'monn, it can't be as bad as mine.” you goad, and Kyle can hear the smile in your tone just as much as he can read it in your eyes.

“A'right, a'right,” Kyle relents with a soft laugh, holding his hands up in mock defense. “truthfully? It's just shorthand for my surname.”

The blank stare you give him his pure gold, and Kyle wishes he could capture that dumbfounded look on film.

Instead, he merely shrugs, “See? Told ya it was nothing special.”

“And here I was, thinkin’ it was something dramatic or some shit,” you huff, setting down the little cube you had been fidgeting with in your lap before giving him a playful shove.

Kyle simply laughs, shaking his head. “Sorry not sorry, Viper.”

“I hate you.”

“You really don't,” he says with a smug grin. “Now, it's your turn. Why do they call you viper?”

“Mm.. I don't wanna do this anymore.”

“Oi! You can't keep it from me,” Kyle protests. “I told you mine!”

“Yours was underwhelming!” You cheerfully snap right back, the mirth dancing in your gaze telling Kyle that there's no real ill intent behind it.

“Too bad! You gotta tell me now,” he returns your earlier shove, that damn smile never once leaving his face. “Besides, I think I have a pretty good idea..”

“I doubt that."

“Oh really? It has nothin’ to do with that fiery attitude of yours?” he would truthfully be pretty damn surprised if it wasn't.

“Hey- what's wrong with how I act?” You feign a pout, giving Kyle the most distraught puppy-eyes he's ever seen. The sheer amount of power you held using your eyes alone was befuddling.

“Nothin’-” he quickly reassured, patting the arm closest to him with one of his own hands. “Now, tell me!”

“Fine, fine..” you sigh. “so.. when I was first recruited, years ago, and after bootcamp, we got shipped out for our first taste of ‘real’ military life. At least that's what my lead at the time had called it.”

“Go on…” You give him a little glare and Kyle does his best to suppress his grin, which doesn't work very well, but you continue anyway.

“Got shipped out for Europe-” now, he has to cut you off then. Can't let you go on with this line of thinking, now can he?

“Wait- which part? You can't just say Europe and that's it, there are so many countries-”

“And y'all are all in the same tiny portion of land. So, Europe.” You say with a raised eyebrow.

“But-”

You cut him off again with a deadpan, “You wanna hear the story or not?”

“....”

“That's what I thought, now, as I was saying..” you continue with a dramatized sigh. “Ended up in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by way too much fuckin' grass. Was so thick, we couldn't see shit beyond surface level.”

“Following my CO’s instructions, we were squatted down at the top of a ridge. I just happened to be the most unlucky, and when I sat down..”

Kyle let out a disbelieving gasp, a hand flying up to dramatically clutch at his heart, “No..”

“Shuddup-” Kyle hears the clatter of the cube falling away, those fierce eyes turned on him as you give his shoulder a quick shove.

“I'm going to spread the word like wildfire.”

“You will not-” He barely has any time to react, tackled into the grass with a surprised yelp. Your body pressing down on him from above.

“Ah! I will- I'll tell everyone-!” Kyle struggles beneath you, grappling for the upper hand, but his laughter makes his muscles weak.

“How was I supposed to know there was a damn snake hiding there!?” You huff, trying to pin him in place, but his infectious giggles and wriggling limbs makes the task near impossible.

“Ha!”

“You are a menace, Garrick-!” You two roll around in the grass, neither having a proper hold over the other for long. All bright smiles and bubbling laughter.

“Says the man who got his ass bitten by a damn snake!” Kyle teases when he finally gets on top of you, softly panting, knees straddling your stomach, your body going limp beneath him.

The last thing he expects is to suddenly be flipped, a shocked “ack-” escaping him as he now finds himself face down in the grass. Held up by only his forearms, still shaking with silent giggles. “Okay, now this is just unfair-”

“I am going to strangle you,” your voice rumbles against his ear, and it's clear you're trying to stay firm, but the humor lacing your breathless tone is an obvious giveaway. “Your captain would surely understand-”

One of your hands comes down to loosely wrap around his throat, the other planted firmly on the ground by his head. Kyle can't take you seriously though, soft wheezes still escaping his lips.

“I'd really prefer to keep all my sergeants intact, if that's no trouble to you.” Your body freezes on top of his, all touches slipping away as you stand up.

Kyle's own humor abruptly cuts off at the sound of the familiar rumble of his captain's voice. Slowly, he turns to look up at the newcomer.

“Price, h-heyyy,” he says with a nervous chuckle, pushing himself up onto his knees. Then stumbling to his feet.

Your hand reaches out to steady him, a friendly gesture, really, but Kyle's body reflexively steps away at the last moment. A forced smile plastered on his features, pretending he doesn't see that dejected look in your eyes.

“Did ya need something, Cap’?”

Price glances between you too, and it takes everything within Kyle not to take another half step away. To distance himself from you even more.

“S’ matter ‘o fact, I do,” Price says. “Was goin' to send someone to get you, but none of them seemed to know where you rascals were.”

“Ah, about that..” Kyle rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, sir.

“None of that now, just wrap this up and meet me in my office in five.” With that, Price leaves, the two of you left alone together once more.

Kyle stands there, unsure what to say, or do for that matter, a few awkward moments later, before deciding on a quick, “see you ‘round then, Viper.” And walking away.

“You needed somethin’, sir?” Kyle asks once granted verbal access to Price’s office, shutting the door softly behind himself.

Price shuffles a few papers on his desk, pulling out a few and shoving others into a folder. “Just a little chat, Garrick, then you can go back to messin’ around with that friend ‘a yours.”

“We weren't-”

Price cuts him off with a, “None ‘o that now. Come on in. Sit.” And if Kyle didn't know any better, he would assume the man was annoyed with him. He did know better, though, and the slight twitch of Price’s mustache gives away that the old man found this all humorous.

Resigning not to even try to defend himself this time, Kyle sighs and walks to the chair in front of the desk. Pulling it out and seating himself, his posture far too stiff, a bit awkward.

The captain keeps it short and sweet; informing Kyle that, for the time being, they were going to sit tight at base until their teammates needed them. Ghost, Soap, and a unit of the Mexican Special Forces had apparently managed to capture a lead who knew where the stolen missiles were.

The lot of them were currently on an op to secure the second one, and the only reason he and Price weren't out there searching for more was because the captive refused to let slip where another was- or if there even was another out there.

So the two were sitting ducks once again, but Kyle found himself not minding it just as much this time. Maybe it had something to do with the companionship he had found in you, or maybe it didn't.

“I'm a bit surprised you're not more eager to get back out there,” Price says, leaning back in his chair with a brow quirked up, arms crossed over his chest. “Never known you to be the type to enjoy lingering in one place for too long.”

Kyle shrugs, “guess I'm just getting old like you, eh?”

A small huff leaves the other man, and Kyle hopes it'll all be left at that.. but when have things ever gone his way?

“That it?” Yes, that is it, it definitely has nothing to do with you and your- “Sure there ain't somethin’ holdin’ you here?”

And your.. uh, excellent.. company. Yeah. Totally not. Price had it all wrong.

“You mean somethin’ other than a guaranteed cot to sleep in and decently warm water to shower with, sir?” Kyle asks, feigning ignorance. As if he hasn't got a clue as to what his captain could be hunting at..

“All great things, I'm sure,” Price says with a slow nod, playing along with- with whatever Kyle was doing right now. What was he doing exactly?

“And I'm quite sure it has nothing ‘t do with.. one of the temporary soldiers on base currently, would it?” It's not- it isn't like there was anything.. weird or something going on between you two. It was just a friendship. A friendship that would almost certainly end the moment you packed up and had to leave.. to leave and never come back.

Why does the thought of you leaving, likely never to return, never to meet again.. no more of the inside jokes you lot have already gained in this short amount of time, no more midnight chats after a nightmare, no more hangouts in the grassy field.. why does it cause a deep ache in his chest, one Kyle swears he's never felt before?

Like something's missing. A part of himself that you've already stolen; ripped straight from his heart and tucked right away into one of those various pockets on that ridiculous outfit of yours.

“I'm ‘fraid I don't know what you mean, Cap’.” Kyle forces out, the words weighing on his tongue like lead. And, fuck him, but the sergeant has no idea why he's acting like this.

With a heavy sigh, Price uncrossed his arms and leaned forward. Resting his elbows on the hardwood of the mahogany desk and giving Kyle the most unconvinced look he's ever seen on the captain's face.

“So there will be no problems then?”

“..Of course not, sir,” he says. And maybe they both ignore his hesitation. Maybe they pretend that nothing has changed. “None at all.”

And maybe that is for the best.

Trying to find you the next day was like searching for a needle in a haystack. Worse. Trying to find a needle in a pile of more needles; if those needles were all donned in swaths of black clothing. All of these damn Shadows looked exactly the same.

Sure, Kyle could easily identify you when it was just you and maybe a few other soldiers, but this morning another group had shipped in. This one is much bigger than the one you had arrived with.

He came up empty in the morning, unable to find you in the mass of all black uniforms and visor covered faces. Giving up on the search and resolving to simply speaking up and asking one of your teammates.

The Shadows in his immediate vicinity, a small group of four, all unmasked but one, give him an odd look.

“We thought he was with you.” The one on his left says, tugging at a stubborn strap of a vest. The man paused, frowning. “Now that I think ‘bout it, I haven't seen the bastard all day.”

The Shadow just beside that one cuffed him on the back of the head, hissing something Kyle doesn't hear. “What?” He asks, looking at his teammates with a deep grimace. “Don't pretend y'all weren't thinkin’ it too.”

And this throws Kyle off his groove, unable to control the twist of his own features as he considers the implications of what the man is saying. Were you not as popular as he had assumed? Was that the reason you hung out with him so often?

Throwing in a disarming huff of laughter to settle the tension amongst the soldiers, Kyle digs deeper. “What, he not famous amongst you lot or somethin’?”

One of the other Shadows scoff, the masked one this time. “Famous? Yeah.” She deadpans, then sneers. “For all the wrong reasons.”

The woman to her left winces, but doesn't comment further. Instead, the Shadow that had reprimanded the other guy pipes up. “Yeah.. he's pretty well known for his temper, and that's about it.”

“Don't forget the fucker is also is the lieutenant’s favorite.” the woman from before speaks up again. Looking a little closer, the patch on her vest reads the numbers 2-6.

“Him and Venn both,” the first guy, 1-4, apparently, grunts. “The both of them have the poor man twisted tight around their fingers. Always agreeing to their every whim.”

The second woman finally speaks up, much more soft spoken than her loudmouthed counterparts. “C’mon guys, that's not fair. Y'know the lieutenant doesn't play favorites.”

“Shut it, Kayllee,” 2-6 snaps, albeit a bit more softer than she had been previously. “You're just sayin’ that ‘cause you've got a little crush on the big man.”

The appointed ‘Kayllee’ flushes a deep pink, whacking 2-6 lightly. “Shuddup-” she squeaks. “I do not!”

“That's not what you were saying on the flight over here…” There's a certain spark in 2-6’s green irises as she looks down at her friend. One Kyle had often seen shining between two particular teammates of his own.

And another place he outright refused to acknowledge.

Deciding to let the group continue squabbling in peace, Kyle takes his leave.

He doesn't see you that entire day.

Perhaps you're just busy. Yeah, that's it. There is no way it could have anything to do with what happened yesterday- not that anything did happen. You two had just been playing around. Like guys do; like friends do.

Kyle doesn't sleep right that night, and so what if he pretends it’s because he is too caught up worried over his teammates in Mexico?

It's just not right; that's what his grandparents always said.

Not right for relationships that weren't friendship to blossom between couples who weren't strictly man and woman. Kyle had always thought it was a bit odd that people cared so damn much about other people's lives, what did or did not happen between others.

But these two had raised him and his sisters; had taken care of the lot of them when their own parents had been deemed unfit to care for the bunch by the law.

Besides their, sometimes questionable, opinions, they had otherwise raised him and his sisters pretty damn well, in Kyle's personal opinion.

So, deep down, Kyle knew they were wrong when it came to sexuality. He had never cared much one way or another when his friends, first in school, then when he got older and enlisted, “came out” to him—aka when he saw them getting flirty with the same sex. And, of course, it existed within his own team as well.

He saw the way Ghost and Soap engaged in and off the field, and knew there was something there besides simple friendship.

Kyle didn't have a problem with it. It simply wasn't his business. Everyone could do whatever the hell they pleased, as long as no one got hurt.

Everyone.

Everyone..

Everyone. Or, well.. everyone with one exception.

..everyone besides him.

Now, Kyle liked to believe it was never an issue before. He had his fair share of crushes; whenever he brought home a friend who happened to be a girl, his grandma always gushed about how cute they would be together; his grandpa teased him about his little ‘girlfriend’.

They all laughed it off, finding his stuttering responses adorable.

Who was Kyle to tell them any differently? Sure, he never felt the urge to engage with the girls the same way his school friends always had. And ladies often preferred to hang out with him as opposed to the other guys their age- but that's just because his grandma raised him to treat everyone equally!

Even later, Kyle never had the urge to get with.. anyone, really. Women were pretty, yeah, but any attempt at starting a relationship was one-sided and would eventually end with them being better as friends.

Kyle didn't question it.

He had no reason to.

Until now.

Until he was cradling a nice, steaming cup of tea in his hands. Your eyes locked on him, gauging his reaction as he slowly brings it up and takes a sip.

It tastes.. okay? Not the best he's had, and he's pretty sure you may have microwaved the water.. but despite its imperfections, Kyle swears it's the best damn tea he's ever had.

“So..?” You urge, expectant.

“It's.. good.” He says, offering a small smile.

“Ah, shit, ya don't like it..” Your posture deflates, glancing back at ingredients left out on the communal counter space. Some sugars and a little residue of milk where you might have accidentally split a drop or two.

Kyle bites his cheek to keep from smiling like some sort of imbecile. “No, no- it's good! Really.” He says, trying to get that little spark to relight in your eye.

You give him a deadpan look, huffing. “.. I've just.. never, uh, made it before..?”

Oh, hell, now if that doesn't melt Kyle's heart into one big, sappy puddle…

“Awe, so ya did this all for little ‘ol me?” Kyle teases. “I'm honored, truly.”

He places a hand on his heart for dramatic effect, bowing slightly, other hand clutching the handle of the mug as if is we're his damn lifeline. Despite the joking tone, Kyle meant it.

It may not taste the best.. but, fuck, it was one of the- the cutest things someone had done for him yet. The sugar was there, a little splash of milk, just how he liked it.

Which meant you had paid attention to how he made it for himself.

So maybe he hadn't been completely honest before. Maybe it was time to admit to himself that the way he looked at some other men wasn't out of pure admiration. The way he looked at you.

If it was wrong, why did it feel so damn right?

The next instance that gives Kyle the same fluttery-feeling in his gut is when, after returning from one of your own wayward ops, you come to see him immediately.

The moment you step into the common room, Kyle knows something ain't right. You act just as you usually do, only this time there's a still-irritated scratch across the bridge of your nose, your clothes are rumpled, and he's on his feet faster than he can think. Abandoning the group he had been playing cards with, who all grumble their displeasure, but he brushes them off.

Kyle had more important things to handle than a silly card game.

“Viper? You a’right, mate?”

“Mhm,” you him with a little nod. “Mission success.”

“That's great, man!” He steps closer, giving your body another once over. “Have you gone to medical yet? Get checked out? Maybe get some food in ya?”

“Nah, none of that. I came to see you.” Kyle's heart stutters to a stop right then and there. It's a heavy pause before it kicks back into gear again.

He can overthink on the implications of that later, right now you need his help.

And that is how the two of you end up in his room. Again. For the second time now.

Only this time it's you who's injured. You who's sprawled out on his bed like you own the damn place, an impish sparkle in your eyes, the corners scrunched up in a way that tells Kyle you find all his fussing over you amusing.

“C’mon..” you drawl. “It ain't that serious, really. Just a few scratches.”

Kyle doesn't dignify you with a response. Instead he briskly walked to his desk and pulled out the little first aid kit he kept there.

“I mean it, Kyle,” you sigh. “It's nothing. The place we infiltrated just had a couple mutts were weren't expecting-”

Kyle flips around, kit in hand, and glares a million tiny daggers into your careless body. “How is that not serious?” He stomps over to the bed, plopping himself down beside you. “I should just send your mouthy ass down to medical.”

He taps your shirt with a few fingers—his touch gentle despite his grumbling—before pulling away to fiddle with the box. “Off.”

“Damn, take me out ‘t dinner first, at least..” whatever look he gives you must betray a bit more of his frustration than Kyle intended, if the way you put your hands up in mock surrender is any clue.

Kit open and set aside, Kyle takes it upon himself to twist his body to get a good look at you. Hands hovering just above your hips, a silent question in his eyes that you answer with a small huff and relax bodily into the thin mattress.

When he'd dreamed of taking your shirt off, it certainly wasn't like this.

Ever so slowly, Kyle pushes the fabric up, his pal just barely grazing your flanks. He stubbornly keeps his gaze locked on the skin gradually being revealed to him and not making contact with your own.

Once the cloth is bunched up just under your armpits Kyle grunts a small, “up” and pulls it off the rest of the way when you dutily follow the command. It's a good thing you had shucked off the majority of your gear upon entrance, made this shit a ton easier.

It hits Kyle right then and there that he's seeing you shirtless for the first time. Seeing more skin than just that glimpse of your eyes for that matter.

Fuck.

Now wasn't the time to marvel. To take in every inch of soft, lightly scarred flesh bared to him. It would be something right out of a damn magazine if it wasn't for the scratches and teeth marks marring your skin.

Kyle sucks in a sharp breath, but you seem as aloof as ever. “See? Told you it wasn't that bad.”

“Shut up.” He traces a few of the indentations a fairly large canine had left behind with the pad of his thumb, wincing when he sees the slight twitch your abdominal muscles give. Shit, that probably hurt.

It's out of sheer luck that the dogs hadn't been able to pierce your skin, otherwise Kyle would have a much bigger problem on his hands. Seeing as you were apparently not at all inclined to get yourself checked out.

Other than the handful of fang imprints, there's a scattering of scratches that litter your chest and belly. Nothing some antiseptic and plasters couldn't fix.

Kyle doesn't notice the trembling of his hand until you capture it in both of yours as he dabbing at the last cut, this one just above where your heart would be.

“Gaz?” He doesn't look up, instead rummaging in the first aid box with his other hand. Searching for another bandage. A tug on his wrist pulls him back to the present, body freezing.

Why did you appear so unaffected by all of this? Sure, they all came close to death every damn time they went out- hell, even on base, they were all still at risk. This shouldn't bother him, even with these pesky emotions. Complicated as they were.

It wasn't even that bad. Just like you said.

“Kyle?”

It wasn't just that you had gotten hurt that was bothering him. It wasn't too long ago when Kyle himself had been dangling out of a damn aircraft by nothing other than a flimsy rope-

Another soft tug, and Kyle finally drags his gaze to meet yours. “Hey there,” you murmur. “It's okay- I'm okay.”

That telling crinkle still lingered around your eyes, but Kyle finds it does nothing to quell the squeezing between his ribs he hadn't noticed before.

It wasn't that you had gotten hurt,

It was that you clearly didn't give a fuck that you'd been on the receiving even if several snapping jaws hours prior.

“Right.” He says, clearing his throat when his voice comes out more rough than intended. “Right. I know that.”

“It's sweet, though,” you continue. Gloved thumb brushing so delicately over his knuckles. It's silly, and Kyle can't help but let out a tiny chuckle at the ridiculousness of it. You, laying in his bed shirtless, with only a pair of gloves on. Fuck.

“What is?” He asks, the corner of his mouth quirking up just the slightest.

“That you care so much about little ‘ol me.” Kyle gets the feeling that was supposed to come out more as another teasing remark, but there's an underlying softness that makes it not quite strike its mark.

With another shaky chuckle, Kyle squeezes your hand then pulls away, opening up the final bandage and smoothing it down over the scratch. Directly over your thrumming heart, and Kyle swears he feels it speed up, just a tiny bit, under his touch.

“That I do.”

Or he could've been imagining things.

It's not the easiest conclusion to come to, and sometimes Kyle swears he can still hear the grating voice of his grandfather grumbling at the TV that fateful day in 2014. The day parliament legalized the marriage between same sex couples.

But he wants this. He wants you.

You're far more important than the gripes of a couple elders who, though he loves them dearly, are stuck in the past.

Kyle had mulled over it time and time again. Ideas of you leaving, shipped off back to your home, wherever that was. Furthermore, thoughts of you finding someone else, maybe some cheerful bird, filled the sergeant with a sickening jealousy.

He had come to terms with this, despite Ghost's warning still lingering in the back of his mind, but he was still stuck.

It was, well, not easy to come to this on his own, his feelings for you. Ones that had quickly developed beyond friendship.

That didn't mean you felt the same.

Kyle tried not to let that sinking feeling linger as you two lounged on the couch, watching some dumb horror movie. Something that moreso consisted of the two of you bickering amongst yourself about the inaccuracies of the film.

Had the directors never seen a dead body or something- scratch that. It was extremely likely that they, in fact, had not. Sometimes he forgets that not everyone murders people for a living.

“-those are the worst blood effects I have ever had the misfortune of seeing.” You pipe up beside him, the resulting snorted laugh you make jostling him slightly.

The both of you were seated side by side on the couch, the room dimmed and the TV the only source of light. No one else was around, but that likely had more to do with the fact that they all were in the mess hall getting dinner.

You and him had decided on sharing a few snacks while watching your little movie. Thighs and arms touching, comfortably relaxed against one another.

“It looks like they just squirted a ketchup bottle all over the wall.” Kyle agreed, stuffing his mouth with another handful of trail mix. The kind with mini peanut butter cups in it; the best kind.

“Poorly.” You grunt, smacking his hand away playfully when he makes another grab for the bucket—a treat you had apparently had stashed away—and grabbing a scoop of your own.

Kyle hums his agreement, and the two of you continue through the remainder of the film just like that. When it ends, you start up another, and he has not a single protest lingering on the tip of his tongue.

It's a quarter of the way through—something about space; Kyle's never been a fan about space movies, but he doesn't mind it so much when sitting by you—the film when he starts to feel the alluring siren song of sleep calling his name.

He fights it at first, determined not to waste a moment of the time he has with you. But after a certain point, the sergeant can't hold back the drooping of his eyelids anymore. Fluttering shut and slipping into the blissful quiet of slumber, a sleep far more restful by your side than he's had in weeks.

Warm. The mattress is warm and soft beneath him. Kyle's eyelids peel open slowly, taking in his surroundings with blurry, sleep heavy eyes.

The first thing he notices is that he's not in his room. Startling, but then the memory of watching a couple movies with you comes to the front of his mind and Kyle settles. He must've just fallen asleep on the couch, the TV still mumbling, volume low, images flickering.

The couch was breathing.

It's then that Kyle registered the scratchy texture of a shirt beneath his cheek, when he realizes the pillow he is clutching is not a pillow. No. It's far, far worse. The shit of nightmares.

…It was you.

And the entirety of Kyle's upper body was sprawled over your own form. That pillow? Not a pillow. No, no. His fingers were just shy of grabbing your fuckin' pec, right beneath it, splayed over your ribs.

His head nestled against your stomach, an honest to god puddle of drool staining the poor fabric of your shirt and sticking to his cheek. Fuck. Fuck.

Kyle did not want to deal with this shite. Fuck that. He was tired. And this was so far the best damn sleep he has ever had.

Maybe.. maybe he could just return to that. Just drift off again. Surely you hadn't noticed that he was awake yet.

So, he does just that. Controls his breathing to the best of his ability, calming his heart to an acceptable pace again, and doing his best impression of an unconscious shift in his sleep that he damn well can.

You say nothing, and Kyle takes that as a win.

The next second it takes all his strength not to flinch, not to make any indication that he felt it, when your hand comes up to brush gentle fingertips over his scalp. It's unbelievably soothing, falling into the rhythm of your nails scratching lightly over his hair.

Kyle's body relaxed immediately, eyelids drooping once again. Lower and lower, until he can't keep them open any longer.

It's nice. Now that he doesn't have to worry. Your hand drifts a bit lower, playing with the tiny hairs at the base of his skull.

He blacks out after that.

Things shifted after that night. Kyle doesn't know how you managed it, but he had woken up in his own bed that next morning. More well rested than he could ever remember being. That worn little cube on his desk.

The following week, you both dance around each other. It's infuriatingly similar to the way Kyle has witnessed Ghost and Soap doing it; at the same time he just can't fucking make himself do anything about it.

Kyle feels like one of those stupid birds in those nature documentaries. Like a peacock when he sees you in the gym at the same time he is, flaunting his strength and lean build. Finds himself puffing out his chest a bit more when he's out throwing drills at the newbies and sees you walking by.

The days are filled with touches that linger a little too long to be considered friendly, buzzing electricity between you two with every brush of an arm, every playful shove. He hasn't seen you in anything but full uniform since the time he tended to your wounds—after you got attacked but a hoard of fuckin dogs—, but somehow those little touches feel so much more intimate than if you two just got your shit together and fucked.

That was another idea Kyle had considered before he accepted the feeling he held for you; he wanted to make sure it wasn't just physical. Wasn't only surface level shite.

And it wasn't.

Don't get him wrong, you were hot as hell- something he was still coming to terms with, but not wrong. It's just that he spent more time observing every twitch of the meager features he could see, than he did on obvious things. Things like those thick thighs, the muscle defined even through the cloth, that could probably crush his damn skull.. or that nice arse.. and those biceps he wanted to be squished between..

Enough of.. that. What Kyle meant was that he searched out things like the crinkles at the corners of your eyes that meant you were either giving him a blinding smile, or glaring a burning hole into one of your rowdy teammates. The scrunch of your eyebrows, adorably so, when you fidget with something. Or that one time when he caught you cussing out one of your subordinates.

Fuck. He was so ruined.

There were also a few more movie nights, all of which either ended with him falling asleep on you again, or the both of you slumbering away on that old sofa.

You two always, without fail, ate your meals together. Never in mess, almost always in the communal kitchen or outside on your hill.

He liked the way the sun reflected in your eyes, how it brightened the color of your irises. Kyle got so caught up in it sometimes that he didn't realize he was staring until he heard you stumble over your words. Snapped out of your trance long enough to catch a glimpse of the privileged sight of a light pink just barely noticeable across the bridge of your nose.

You were skilled in the arts of handling your mask just like Ghost was. Always slipping it up just enough to take a nibble before tugging it back down, too fast for him to catch a glimpse beneath the cloth.

Kyle didn't know why you wore it, more than the other Shadows did, and it wasn't his place to ask just yet. He would never push you if it made you uncomfortable. At the very least he was glad to see you were fine with eating in front of him.

It all came to head one evening. The two of you are watching the sunset on your little hill again, sitting shoulder to shoulder in the damp grass.

Kyle doesn't know when the tone became so strained between you, but he felt you start to tense up beside him. Nearly imperceptible to anyone who wasn't attuned to your every move.

Gently, he nudges you with a light knock of his shoulder against yours, giving you a small smile when you glance over at him.

“Something on your mind?” He asks, voice softer than he had ever used with you. But.. but it felt right.

The two of you. On this hill. The sun setting and casting an array of colors across your features, lighting up those gorgeous eyes he adored so much.

You shrug and shake your head, eyes crinkling slightly. “Nah, nothin' much. Just thinking.”

Kyle nods. “A’right,” then, “but I'll listen if you need to get something off your chest.”

Your smile becomes genuine, and you nudge him back. “I know you will.”

He takes it with a soft hum, looking back at the setting sun, now almost completely past the horizon. The heat and light slowly sucked from the earth along with the great ball of fire.

Kyle knows it's just his mind playing tricks on him, but he swears the air has already dropped several degrees. Enough to make him shiver, and suddenly there's a rift between you two he doesn't remember being there before.

It feels like you both are miles apart, even though your arm is still pressed snug against his.

You shift then, pulling away to stand and brush off your clothes. “Best get inside now, yeah?” Your voice is quiet, lacking in its usual spark.

“Yeah.” Kyle says after a pause, and he takes your outstretched hand without hesitation. The glove is a rough contrast to his softer palms; the contact breaks as soon as he's on his feet.

You descend the hill together, the tension between you both growing higher and higher and Kyle is afraid it might snap. Afraid what could have changed.

He's just a few steps away from the side door of the building when your hand shoots out, grasping his wrist and yanking him back.

“Wha-”

“Kyle.” You say, and he finds himself with his back against the brick wall, your hand pressed against his chest. Keeping him in place.

“Everything okay..?” he trails off. You don't speak, seeming to be considering something. And Kyle wishes desperately, not for the first time, to see what is going on in that pretty little skull of yours.

You don't answer, a trembling hand raising, the one not holding him in place. Kyle is too late to realize what you're doing, your mask tugged down for the first time.

And what a wondrous sight that was.

He doesn't get the chance to react before your coming in closer, closer, closer-

The spark is back in an instant, that earlier warmth blossoming between you two as your lips meet. Soft, delicate at first. As if you're both afraid of fracturing this moment before you have the chance to savor it.

Just a brush of your mouth against his. Kyle's hand finds its place on your jaw, cupping it ever so gently, the other resting on your waist.

You pull back a few centimeters, a small, nervous smile on your lips.

Kyle's heart stops right then.

He never thought he would see you smile. The sight of which has heat warming his chest, his heart pounding heavily against his ribcage. It had to have been the greatest thing he's ever witnessed.

“There you are,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your cheek.

A small laugh bubbles from you and- scratch out what he said before. This. This is the best thing he's ever seen. And heard. The sound drew a soft chuckle from his own chest.

“I wanted to do it sooner..” you admit, pulling your bottom lip into your mouth and nibbling on it. Kyle wants to do it for you, but he lets you speak. “But I, uh.. didn't know if you'd built some fantasy of what I looked like. And.. I didn't wanna, y'know, disappoint..”

“You didn't.” He breathes, and Kyle's other hand leaves your waist to join the other in cradling your face. “You never could.”

And then you're kissing again. This one is more firm, more confident than the first. Both of you pressing closer and closer as if you can't get enough. The sun is back and shining in his damn chest, it's so fucking blinding but he doesn't care, you. You. You. It's all you and you are his sun. He meant it before, there's nothing you could ever do to disappoint him–

A shrill buzzing cuts through the air, the two of you separating. Panting into each other's mouths, dazed as your eyes meet his. Open and full of liquid adoration.

The noise goes off again and it takes you both a delayed moment to realize the sound is coming from your pocket.

Kyle keeps his hands on your waist as you fish the damned device out. Fiddling with it until you get it unlocked and see what all the fuss is about.

You freeze. And the cold is back. Same as when the sun had set. Dying flames burning out.

“Who is it?” Kyle chances, hesitant to break the silence but that's all it takes. You pull away and Kyle goes to follow, to keep you from slipping from his hold when he's only just gotten you-

“I- I gotta go.” You rush out, not even glancing up at him as you shove your phone back into your uniform and head inside. The metal door shuts with a deafening slam.

Kyle doesn't go back inside until the tips of his fingers have gone numb from the cold.

Price drags him out of bed the next morning with a sharp rap on his door and Kyle has to pretend he had been sleeping. Like he hadn't been sitting at his desk all night—he had only had you in his bed twice, but that was enough for your memory to haunt it—, staring at his phone. Hoping it will buzz.

Even if he had never given you his number.

Price doesn't give him any more time to sulk, knocking on his door again and barking at him to get his arse up to one of the briefing rooms.

Kyle is barely present by the time he reaches his destination. Not even remembering the steps it had taken to get this far. Nonetheless, he pushed the door open and stepped inside, greeted by a dim room, a pissed Price, and a grim Laswell on the laptop.

“‘Bout damn time, Sergeant.”

“Sorry, sir-” Feeling horribly exposed, Kyle shoved his hands into his pockets. Stalling when his fingertips brush against a familiar cube.

“Nevermind that. Laswell.” Price looks at her, and Laswell’s frown only deepens. Kyle doesn't bother sitting.

“What's wrong?” He asks when no one else speaks, idly toying with the rubik's cube in his pocket.

“Go on,” Price grits out, and this had to be one of the few moments Kyle had ever seen his captain so pissed off. A scowl etched deep into his features.

“Well, boys,” Laswell sighs. “This isn't going to be pretty.”

She pulls out a thin folder, but Kyle knows better by now to feel his stomach drop as she opens it.

His fingers squeeze tight around the cube.

Little didn't mean good.

“Ghost and Soap are on the run in Mexico,” a beat. “From Shadow Company.”

Little just meant they didn't know jack shit.

Masterpost | One | Next

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