Towering boulder of a human-built heavy weapon. That was the first impression of Seamus when the S.A.S recruited him. Despite being treated as the revolutionary in the field of tactical breaching, Seamus didn't let himself slip into cocky mannerism. The way he used confidence and modesty definitely helped his troop's morale. Mike cherishes Seamus' attitude as a front man and regards his physique as mere a gift from the Scottish heritage. This doesn't mean that Mike sees Seamus as some sort of perfect soldier because humans are, and will always be, fragile as ever. Seamus has an air of composure and calm, but Mike has been noticing the hidden side of Seamus under the gas mask.
"Is he a gay as well?" Vicente let out a long stream of smoke from his cigar.
"Let me finish first," Mike says and closes his eyes to think for a better explanation.
Mike guessed Seamus to be one of those people who tire themselves out for the sake of the group. He had never been the one to bring the mood down around his comrades, especially with his close peers. Being with the other thee exceptional members of S.A.S somehow appeared to relieve Seamus from the loneliness of idolisation.
"'Exceptional,' he says. Try to be modest, will you?" Gilles scoffs at how Mike is describing the S.A.S as a bunch of wacky genius.
"Fuck's sake, do you want me to finish?" Mike's scowl amuses the other two.
After being recruited by the Rainbow, the British lot stayed within themselves. Mike had always been a step behind the three younger comrades and watched the growth of their relationship. James was the one who acted chummy and touchy with Mark. He dragged the poor guy out of the barrack and claimed to give Mark the opportunity of 'catching up with all of the social skills that he missed out as a teenager.' Seamus tagged along as a self-imposed mediator, but he was mostly eager to be with James. The three hopped between bars and clubs during their free time to the point of having Seamus carrying either of James or Mark back to the barrack. However, the seemingly unbreakable friendship was disturbed after James came out of the closet to Mike. The segregation wasn't visibly obvious at first, as it was the small details such James talking less with Seamus or Mark trying to initiate more conversation with James. Within few weeks, Seamus also took a step back from the two and banished himself to the workshop to clean his shotgun and breaching hammer. This went on almost every day until the two came to seek for him. Although this whole ordeal resembled one of those cringe inducing high-teen drama, Mike began to pity Seamus when James and Mark paid less visit to the workshop. Realising that he was being left out, Seamus stopped spending his time polishing his weapons and began to pump exercise machines religiously. He trapped himself in a trance and ignored everybody near him. Time passed by and Mike could feel the thin layer of tension between the three. Nobody made an issue out of this as their teamwork during the hostile situations didn't falter.
"See, here is something that I don't understand," Gilles gently swirls his glass.
"Why don't you Englishmen talk?" The question confuses Mike and make him wonder if Gilles has been paying attention.
"I believe I have been talking fine." Mike replies and slows his words as if Gilles isn't capable of understanding English.
"No, no. As in, why doesn't Seamus tell the two about how he feels? You could have intervened as well, all four of you could have a diplomatic chat." Gilles speaks in a condemning tone as if Mike has failed with his job at being the senior of the group.
"They are not children nor I am their nanny. If they have problems, they should sort it out within themselves. If you let me finish, you will know that I did my job." Mike huffs. Before Gilles adds another objection, Mike fastens the pace of his story to the night when Seamus decided to talk. His visit wasn't as sneaky as James' as it happened during their dinner. Mike could spot the tall Scot from meters away who walked towards him. Seamus wasn't looking at Mike as his eyes were locked on the table that his former-best friends sat. He kept watching them and blindly shifted his legs between the bench and the table. He managed to sit beside Mike without pushing him over.
"Evening," Seamus finally turned his head to Mike and give him an awkward, straight-lined smile.
"Evening." Mike replied and curtly nodded.
The two chewed their food in silence and let the background noise fill the gap between them. Mike didn't plan to stay since his tray was on the brink of being empty, but that was until Seamus finally said something.
"Do you notice something different?" Seamus cocked his head at James and Mark, who didn't notice their fellow comrades across the room.
"What of?" Mike feigned ignorance.
"Them." said Seamus and dipped his head again in an exaggerated motion.
"Well, I know that you are not with them." Mike replied.
"Have they said something to you?" Seamus asked the question that Mike hoped to not hear.
"It's not my business to tattle about what's been said. Why don't you ask them yourself?" Seamus furrowed his eyebrows at Mike and looked visibly unsatisfied.
"I would have if they haven't been avoiding me. I can't exactly ambush them when I am two meter tall and looking like a pasty white ogre. " Mike refrained from laughing and tried to respect Seamus' frustration.
"They will come to you when they come." Mike honestly didn't want to solve this issue for them. Yes, he did care about these pansies but he had no energy to be their carrier pigeon.
"And if they don't?" asked Seamus who stared at Mike as if he was waiting to hear a favourable answer.
"Find better friends who won't be such stuck ups." Mike grabbed his tray and was eager to leave before Seamus flooded him more questions.
"Even if I fancy him?" Seamus blurted out loud and gained some attention. Mike was grateful for Seamus' tendency to have a thicker accent when he was stressed, because none of the other operators seemed to understand what Seamus had just said. To prevent Seamus from spitting out more of private parts in his life, Mike pulled the taller man out of the dining room and ordered him to wait by the door. He went back and came out with two familiar faces who froze at the sight of Seamus. Mike gripped tight on the collar of James' and Mark's shirts, and stomped towards the secluded area of the barrack.
"Alright, talk." Mike firmly stood with his arms crossed and waited for them to say something. The longest minute passed and Mike thought of leaving the scene to give them some privacy.
"James," Mark called with his voice deeper than the usual.
"I don't think it was you who I slept with that night." All three exchanged a confused look.
"But we woke up together, butt-naked. I thought that we shagged?" James blushed, placed his hands in the pockets and tried to hide something on his groin.
"No, when we did it again the day after you asked me out, your dick... wasn't the same." Mark made a tiny gap between his index and thumb, which deepened the shade of red on James' face.
"Oh. Oh no." Seamus squat down and hid his face between his knees.
"Was it you?" When Mark asked Seamus, James was whispering a chant of denial.
"Yes," Seamus lifted his head up and answered in quiet voice.
"But I thought you were James." Seamus' words created even more emotional meltdown between the three men.
"Well, where the fuck was you when we woke up in the motel?" James raised his voice and directed his disappointment of one-night mistake at Seamus.
"I went back to the barracks because we weren't supposed to stay outside! You were awake when I left, so I thought you guys came with me but didn't, and I have been wanting to talk to you but you kept avoiding me, making me wonder if you are talking shite about me!" Seamus finally exploded and let all of the pent-up stress out loose. That was the side of Seamus that Mike saw through his façade because he knew that Seamus pretended like nothing affected him while he was very conscious of what people thought of him.
"Of course I wouldn't talk to you when I thought I fucked Mark! I was avoiding almost everybody because for once in my life, I was trying to be responsible." James spat out the last word as if he recently started to learn about the concept. No one said anything and the silence crept back which created thicker layer of tension. Mike's head throbbed with annoyance and he contemplated on how to resolve this sappy soap opera. He leered at each and every one and decided to assume the role that he spent his entire life into. Mike quickly fixed his posture into a sturdy stance with his right arm angled and touched his hipbone. It was the stance that every British army man should know.
"Cowden, Porter, Chandar," Mike called them with raspy and curt voice, which they responded by leaping up and standing similarly to Mike.
"Do you swear to the Queen and on your honour as the member of Special Air force Service, that we will serve and protect for the safety of this nation?" The three took their time, unsure of what to make out of this situation. They murmured their answers in unison.
"You have led yourselves astray from the duties as a soldier," there was clear anger in Mike's intonation.
"It is fundamental that we ensure success in every mission we are given. Even the most absolute cooperation will grant you a very small chance of survival during the hostile attacks, and you have been neglecting your rights to communicate because of one night's misunderstanding." No one opposed to those words that spoke the truth.
"Am I going to fight alongside with soldiers who do not value their comrades' lives?" Mike spoke low and deliberately with more volume. They denied and stared straight back at Mike.
"Good. Now I am going to suggest you lot to talk and sort out the mess that you put yourselves in. I don't care if all of you wankers fucking choose to wank each other off or pretend that this has never happened. If one of you wants one-on-one relationship, the third party will have to accept their wish and remain polite. Am I understood?" After witnessing a clear salute from the three, Mike nodded and left the area. The next day when he met them, they were moving in groups of three as if nothing had happened. It was a pain to endure James' taunts on how Mike sounded like a patriotic grandpa, but it was an even trade considering how James stopped calling Mike 'Maggie.'
"That is the most unnecessarily dramatic and non-diplomatic way to solve an emotional problem." Gilles yawns and rubs his eyes.
"I think that hit the right spot for them, actually." Vicente smiles and offers to fill a cup for Mike, who is obviously impressed with how he handled the situation.
"I will pass. I need to sort something out before the bed." Mike stands up and walks towards the garage area.
"You forgot to tell us one more thing," Mike turns around and waits for Vicente to finish his sentence.
"Did they end up together or single?" A grin appears on Mike's tired face which deepens the bags under his eyes.
"They are wankers, Vicente, immature fucks. If they get into trouble, I won't be the one saving their arse in the future." Gilles hears a faint jingle of keys and remembers how the garage door to the utility truck has been used without any delivery. Mike winks at both men and puts his finger to the lips before walking out.
"Not a nanny, he says."
