As someone who had lived most of his life in the Hereford base, Mike could proudly say he was part of the living legend of SAS. He endured countless hostile situations, experience three wars and survived, which deemed him as a seasoned soldier with sharpened sense. He never accepted the fancy change in the military equipment, regarding laser sight to be a hindrance to his honed ability. It was such pleasure for Mike to meet some of the older veterans and officers who had a similar idea of weapon, which was primarily the reason why he hung out with two of the oldest operators in the team. The two had unique gadgets that intrigued Mike during their practice and real hostile encounter. The three occasionally sat together during meals and played a simple card game to kill some time and built up nerves.
Tonight was no different from their usual gathering. A dim-lit table in the living room reflecting on a bottle containing amber liquour set a relaxing atmosphere, especially as the three had some of the alcohol in their own cup. The base was peacefully quiet with the majority of the young blood flooded out, hoping to seek livelier population. Some of the older ones were already knocked off into slumber but Thatcher knew that he would only gain some quiet and private company at 0200. One would think that old people have an easier time sleeping early, but for individuals who lived in constant stress and alert, the trauma younger days jabs their subconscious in a form of nightmare.
"Straight flush." Said a voice who sat across Mike. The other man put his cards down and sighed.
"I swear that you aren't honest in his game." Gilles frowned at the winner of the round and took a sip of whiskey.
"Accusing me of foul play? Have some faith." Vincente spread his arms on the table, showing his bare arms which indicated that he had no rooms to hide cards. Mike suspected Vincente as well but he couldn't careless since he wasn't the one losing the bet.
"Looks like I will be saving my money after all." Mike grinned as he saw the crevice on Gilles' forehead deepened.
"Alright. I am done for the night." Gilles' announced his defeat and pushed his chair back a little. He shuffled, took out few notes of 10 pounds and tossed them on the table.
"Fair enough. I was starting to worry about your retirement plans." Vincente chuckled at Mike's comment, which Gilles' also smiled along.
"I am still in the game; just not the cheating kind." Gilles poured another glass for himself and raised his eyebrows at Vincente.
"Speaking of games, have you heard any more from your boys? They seem to be playing some sort of mind-plays." Vincente ignored the confrontation and asked Mike. For few seconds, Mike didn't know what Vincente was talking about, then he remembered the last time that Seamus paid him a visit to his room.
"Indeed that I have. Why, I might have gained an extra wrinkle, thanks to those wankers." The oldest operator gulped a large amount from his glass and ran his fingers against the greying hair.
"What about them?" Gilles asked and shifted closer to Mike who was massaging his temple. Vincente kept his eyes on the French, shuffling the cards and snuck few under his singlet.
The story began a few months ago when Mike finally became comfortable with his fellow comrades of SAS. As someone who is known to be a grouchy geezer, the younger operators hesitated of approaching Mike. It was James who broke the ice by asking the origin of Mike's operator name, and started to call him 'Maggie.' The other two were polite enough to call Mike by his operator or surname, but that cheeky bastard James kept calling him Maggie in a similar tone of a child calling for his mother.
"Oh, just call me Margaret, why don't you?" He asked James in unimpressed tone, showing clearly that he wasn't amused.
"Blimey. Where is the love in that?" James gasped in a dramatic manner and placed his hand on the chest. Ever since that day, James became the 'nutjob #1' on Mike's mental note. Eventually, he filtered out James' annoying humour and never shown much reaction because Mike was an experienced professional at mentoring little shits. It also helped that James was actually useful in the missions, which Mike gave him full credit for. The team bonded through practising or fighting number of situations, which satisfied Mike as he equated positive relationship between teammates to a higher chance for them to survive. He didn't dare to show any mellow emotions, but fully appreciated the talented individuals of his squad. Everything was in order under his careful observation of his and other squads' operators. This sense of harmony was short lived when one night, James decided to drag Mike out of his bunk bed.
"Fuck off." Mike groaned and tried to swat away the finger that kept poking his shoulder.
"Don't tell me that you are senile already," James whispered.
"I can tell you that we got an early morning routine tomorrow. Stop acting fresh and go to sleep." Mike squinted at the crouched frame in front of him. He could still see James lingering around, strangely silent as if James was thinking before he spoke. It was a rare sight that stirred a little bit of curiosity in his drowsy brain, but Mike really wanted to close his dry eyes without being disturbed.
"Mike, please. I need your thought on this." The seriousness of James' tone woke Mike, who wondered what could be so important to drop the whole clown-act. Although he doubted that there was anything important, Mike agreed to have a talk with James and step out of the bunk as quiet as possible. They sat outside in the garage and Mike gained more conscience as the cool breeze tickled his goose bumps. It was a long wait for him to hear James' big news. Mike probably would have nodded off to sleep if James didn't spill the beans without any context.
"You reckon a one night stand can be made into something more than a good shag?" James blurted, staring at Mike for an approval.
"As long as your condom managed to be not broken." Mike tried his best to choose more subtle vocabulary and failed miserably.
"it didn't break, but that's not the issue," James answered.
"I think any woman would appreciate not being knocked up on their one night," Mike replies, wondering if James was somehow a daft product of shitty sexual education that the United Kingdom offered.
"wasn't a girl," James ' sudden reveal of his sexual preference surprised Mike only for a short moment, not out of negative judgement but at how James appeared to trust Mike enough for such a big reveal.
"Who is it?" Mike asked, hoping it wasn't the yanks.
"You know him. Our quiet lad." James shifted back and forth, resembling a child who got caught eating something forbidden.
"You fucking what?" Mike's rhetorical question had a mixture of disbelief and frustration. There were many situations that he dealt while mentoring the fresh recruits that involved emotional conflicts. Almost all of them were heated competitiveness or miscommunication. Mike knew how to solve those, but the romance in the military? Mike only heard about those scenarios. Love wasn't Mike's field of expertise given by how he practically married to his job. Anything that related to love seemed unpredictable and finicky to Mike, which was the last thing that a successful squad needed.
"I know, I am a bloody poofter. We were puss drunk at a bar and things led on and on." James hung his head low as if he was trying to hide the regret in coming out. Mike sensed the tinge of red on James' face and tried to find the right words.
"Listen. Whoever you choose to drag on your bed doesn't matter to me. I am not going to be judging you on who to chase after. As long as you do your job while holding a gun, you can be whoever you are." Mike softened his gaze at James who stated back with genuine surprise.
"I don't know much about wooing anyone but you could use your jokes. It's about time for them to be useful." Mike said and smirked. He was relieved to see James rolling his eyes with less tension on his shoulders.
"Always the wise one, Maggie." James teased and chuckled.
"No need to state the obvious. Now, let me sleep for god's sake." Mike walked back, leaving James behind. His pace was quicker than the usual, with his brain busily pondering upon the unfamiliar situation in his career. It's okay. He was confident in his decision of supporting James was the best he could do. The most crucial thing in any relationship is respect, and Mike gave it to James. It was James' responsibility in balancing his personal and work life. If this all worked out nicely, those two would have something to look forward after their military retirement, unlike Mike himself.
The story took a bit of break when Mike fell silent.
"You have told us that story last week," Gilles said, stretching his arms out if boredom.
"Didn't it go well? Those two work quite nicely, no?" Vincent's added.
"There is more to it. They weren't the problem," Mike paused, massaging his temples again.
"It was Seamus."