"This seat taken?"
Roach took another long drag on his cigarette, tipping his head back to release a plume of smoke. Ghost watches it drift away into nothingness as he waits for the answer. It takes Roach another two drags, another two exhalations before he finally says, "Is it ever?"
That's the only invitation Ghost needs to sit down and sprawl out on the bench besides the younger man.
"Not really," he quips, snatching the cigarette from Roach's fingers.
"Hey!" Roach protests, leaning over and attempting to retrieve his stolen item, but Ghost's having none of that. He swats Sanderson's hand away and, with the same hand pulls the opening in his balaclava down far enough to expose his mouth.
Riley brings the cigarette up to his lips as Roach slumps back against the bench, huffing.
"Asshole. Though you didn't smoke, anyway." Gary says, tossing a glare in his lieutenant's direction.
"Not really," Ghost admits, exhaling through his nose. "But it's better than letting you smoke alone, your mouth tastes like shite afterwards—"
"Of course that's all you care about." Roach snorts again and reaches for the cigarette. Ghost lets him have it this time, and the pass the burning stick back and forth between them in a comfortable silence. After the first one is gone, Roach lights up another cigarette and offers it to Ghost, who declines it with a shake of his head.
The sun climbs higher in the sky and still they sit there, motionless except for the sergeant's occasional movement of his hand; he's still smoking. It's not often they get a lazy afternoon like this and the two soldiers are more than happy just to enjoy the listlessness of doing absolutely nothing, whatsoever.
It's a full five minutes later before Ghost replies, "It's not all I care about, you know."
"Mnngh?" Roach twists his head to look at his superior.
"Your smoking. How you taste. Ain't all I like about you, bug." Ghost shrugs, a careful, controlled roll of his shoulders.
"Oh, that." Roach stretches too, subtly shifting closer to Riley. "I knew that."
"Your arse is also something I particularly admire—"
"Asshole!" Roach repeats, punches Ghost's shoulder with his free hand, but he's laughing, eyes crinkled up in amusement. Ghost chuckles too, still staring out at the base around them. The faint crack of gunfire can be heard drifting from the firing range, and Meat and some of his cronies are playing a game of basketball nearby.
And they continue to sit.
This time it's Roach that breaks the silence, glancing around and making sure they're alone before speaking.
"Hey, Simon—"
"Yeah?"
"C'mere."
Ghost turns towards Sanderson and is only mildly surprised when Roach leans forward and captures his lips in a kiss, and the sergeant's mouth is just like the landscape around them, warm and a bit dry and reasonably familiar. Roach pulls away all too soon, though, before things can move from 'just warm' to heated (the way Riley personally enjoys).
"What." Ghost pulls his balaclava back up, fixing it in place, (to make sure Roach can't try that again), before continuing, "was that for?"
"Oh, well, you know," Gary grins and looks away, quietly pleased with himself. "To stop you complainin' about me all the time."
"I don't complain about you all the time." Ghost remarks mildly, tilting his head towards Roach's.
"Yeah you do. Specially when you haven't gotten laid in a few days."
"Speaking of that, actually—"
Roach sighs. "My room, eleven o'clock, and if you're late I will lock the door."
"Perfect," Ghost's grinning beneath his mask. He settles back down on the bench and places his hand rather possessively over Roach's thigh. Roach looks down at it and then over at his lover, raising an eyebrow but saying nothing. Instead, he finishes off his cigarette and sets his hand carefully on top of Ghost's.
They sit like that for another hour, undisturbed for once in the peaceful stillness of that moment.