A/N: Chapter 4, and only Day 2? I guess this will definitely be longer than the traditional five chapters, heh. Anwyay, sorry if this is a bit boring—I needed to get this off my shoulders and get rid of the writer's block. Again, thank you for such kind reviews. Especially since the last chapter's scene was suggestive, it was hilarious to hear your reactions.

Here's another chapter. :)

After waking up, you trudge into the bathroom, which only consists of a toilet, mirror and sink. You twist the tap, cup some of the water and splash it over your face, the fresh cool liquid against your skin bringing gentle refreshment from the heavy sleepiness one so often feels in the morning. It takes a few minutes to brush your teeth and fix up your hair.

Exiting the bathroom, you walk over to the end table next to the single bed and pick up your phone. It's about a quarter past eight in the morning.

You change out of your nightwear and into a comfortable outfit of jogging pants and a plain T-shirt, just in case you're required to do some work. Stuffing your phone into your pocket, you head out of the room and towards the cafeteria for breakfast.

It surprises you that the said place is nearly empty, for you were expecting a hectic, lively situation with the members fussing over the food. Only one person is inside, sitting at a table in the far corner, his back facing you. With that hairstyle it's obviously Soap.

After taking a warm scoop of chicken soup, the pot containing it still strangely full, into a medium-sized bowl, you make your way to where the captain is seated. He's staring off into space, eyes blank but expression thoughtful, hands holding onto a steaming cup of something that smells like coffee.

"Good morning," you greet, sitting opposite him.

He blinks, looks at you for a few moments, and then spares a small smile. "Good morning, Private," he returns the greeting, taking another sip of his drink. His sigh of content is inaudible, but you can tell he's relieved by the taste of the coffee from his facial expression.

Noticing your eyeing of his cup, he smirks. "If you want some, you'll have to ask Ghost. He's the one who made this coffee, if you're wondering."

"Oh? So the lieutenant has to make coffee for the captain?" you try hard to supress a smile.

Soap doesn't answer. He narrows his eyes and remains silent, as though he knows where the conversation is heading and decides not to let it go your way. You're quite disappointed he didn't continue the chat, for you were thinking of steering it off to the subject of Roach.

After having a few spoonfuls, you ask, "Have you heard of the ice-cream?"

"Aye," Soap says, almost ruefully, and then wags his head. "Whoever ordered them definitely wasn't one of my men, and Shepherd looked pissed about everything but didn't say a word when I asked."

You smile sympathetically as he added, "Anyway, if you're wondering where everybody is, they're training. Ghost is going all-out for the rest of the week 'cause of the possibility of the members putting on weight."

You couldn't help but laugh a bit at his last sentence. "They're members of the one-four-one. They should be able to pull through in one piece."

Soap chuckles. He leans forward and smiles at his coffee, before arching a brow at you. "By the way, a few members asked me last night for permission of having a party in the base. To celebrate the week. You don't have anything to do with it, do you?"

"What? No, I don't," you decline firmly, genuinely surprised. "A party, huh? Any details?"

"They want to have it tomorrow evening, in the rec-room," Soap informs, "This evening they're heading out of the base to get things for the 'celebration'."

"Oh, so you do approve of this?"

"It doesn't hurt for my men to get shitfaced drunk every once in a while," Soap chuckles again, but falls silent. He stares thoughtfully at his coffee, and then says, "No, I take that back. It does hurt for them to get shitfaced, they always end up doing something insane that puts my arse on the line with Shepherd."

"Uh, example?"

"We were celebrating my birthday," Soap starts, grimacing, "and, sadly, the celebration was bad timing. General Shepherd visited the base next morning without notifying me beforehand, so he walked in and found us asleep on the floor. Not only that, I think he found a few unconscious girls Meat invited in the meeting room."

"Ouch," you give him a doubtful look. "But you still don't mind having this party?"

"Events like those are rare, so why not?"

"They're lucky to have such a laidback captain," you laugh. Dipping the spoon in for another scoop, you only meet with the clink of glass and find that your bowl is empty. Frowning a bit, but unwilling to withdraw from the conversation, you look up. "Who asked you about the party?"

"Archer."

You pause, blink, and then look up at him. "What?"

Soap shrugs. "I'm just as confused as you are, Private. I thought he was going to come up with another 'Toad-told-me-to-do-it' excuse, but then he didn't. When I told him I'd think about it, Royce asked me next, which was strange since usually it would be Meat. And then Roach came along and inquired the same thing. I guess they were all in the idea of having the party."

"No wonder you approved," you whisper to yourself, a sly smile playing across your face. "Roach asked."

"What?" Soap asks, unable to catch your soft sentence.

"Oh, nothing," The sly smile changes into an innocent one. "Anyway, who's going out to get the things for the party?"

"Toad, Roach and Meat," Soap leans back against his seat, frowning a bit. "Ghost is tagging along, just to make sure they don't end up arrested. I think they'll be more than happy to have you follow."

"Sounds fun," you nod, rather fond of the idea, before rising from your seat. "Okay, I'm going to go watch them train."

Soap hums in acknowledgement and you slip out of the cafeteria.

Exiting the building, a soft breeze blows against your skin, the feeling refreshing as it brushes against your skin and hair. The sun is just poking out in the horizon, the sunlight slowly reaching across to beam over the base, whereas the peaceful morning atmosphere brings a sense of peace into your frame. It would have been comfortingly quiet, if only Ghost's voice wasn't so loud.

Walking in the direction of his angry-sounding yells, they lead to the course Soap showed you only yesterday afternoon. A number of members are there, but not all of them. You amble through the arch marking the entrance and stand next to Ghost, imitating the way his hands are locked together behind his back as he stood straight and glared at the men on the course.

"Oh come on! You call that running, Rocket?" Ghost snaps, and the poor member stumbles slightly, but quickly recovers and increases his pace.

You watch, slightly concerned. "You're quite hard on them, sir."

"Nothing they couldn't handle," Ghost states simply, folding his arms. "Especially after finishing up so much of that dessert, I can't risk having them add extra pounds."

"Where are the others? I see that not everyone is here."

"Shooting range, with MacTavish."

Upon hearing the captain's name, you raise an eyebrow and look at Ghost, perplexed. "MacTavish? I just met the captain two minutes ago in the cafeteria."

Ghost pauses for a few moments, and then turns to face you. Despite the shades, you can see the exasperation in his blue eyes. The irritation is even more evident when he sighs.

"Still drinking the bloody coffee?"

"Still drinking the bloody coffee," you smile. No wonder MacTavish was inside—slacking off on his session to take advantage of the rare quietness. "He said you made it for him."

"Yep, in exchange for Roach to train with me today," Ghost says, perhaps subconsciously, for that piece of information strikes you as peculiar.

"You guys fight for whom Roach trains with for the day?" you inquire, tone suspicious. You raise an eyebrow, but suppress a devious smile.

It's then Ghost's eyes widen, as though he realized the vital information that slipped past his mouth. He stammers, struggling to keep his voice collected though his nervousness is blatant to your ears. "Roach is just an easy chap to train."

"Right," you drawl the word out slowly and skeptically, eventually deciding to not push the topic further. 'As if that reply even had anything to do with my query,' you think to yourself, the smirk threatening to crack on your face. 'Ghost and Soap fighting over Roach? Interesting.'

Suddenly the subject of their missions comes to mind. Perhaps the third world war has yet to happen. Glancing at Ghost from the corner of your eye, you feel compelled to ask whether any kind of massacre has gone about lately.

'He'll think I'm a spy,' you bite your bottom lip, agitated. In fact, almost anything you'd ask when it comes to their missions will make you look like suspicious.

Just as you were contemplating about sneaking into Soap's office and bedroom for files concerning official Task Force 141 covert ops, the seven men under Ghost's command for the day stumbled through the end of the course.

They're panting heavily, sweating as though they've run for miles, and Ghost nods a few times, slightly satisfied. Then, he barks orders for them to start doing push-ups. The look of agony on their faces as he told them to do so is priceless and you hold back a laugh, as to not torture them further.

The men drop to the floor in compliance to their superior's command. You aren't sure whether to giggle or frown at the look on their faces attempting to do the push-ups. Eventually, you decide on a sympathetic smile and turn to Ghost.

"How long have they been training?"

He lifts up his sleeve slightly and glances at his watch, answering casually. "About an hour and a half."

"G-Give…give me a break, sir!" Ozone pleads, panting. He forces another push-up. "My limbs are burning!"

"No."

"Shit," Worm curses, his elbows wobbling. "I promise I won't get fat—I won't go near the ice-cream ever again!"

Ghost remains unmoved.

"Come on, Ghost," you smile, attempting to coax him out of his strict ways for the sake of the exhausted members.

"Yeah, listen to the pretty Private!" Royce adds in hopefully.

Ghost doesn't reply. He looks at you, and though you can't see the expression underneath his mask, you can tell he's frowning. Remembering the nearly-full pot of warm chicken soup waiting in the cafeteria, and recalling how it struck you as odd, you remind the lieutenant:

"They haven't eaten breakfast yet, have they? How do you expect them to keep going like this without eating?"

Ghost argues, "They always train before eating breakfast."

"Only for half an hour!" Chemo cries and collapses, the backbreaking workout eventually getting the better of him. Panting, he mutters, "I feel like I'm going to die."

"Give them an hour, Ghost," you persuade, raising an eyebrow, lips smiling hopefully.

After a small staring contest, Ghost eventually gives in. He grunts, "Alright."

The seven men give out tired chuckles, before the remaining six collapses to the ground, mimicking Chemo. You laugh, whereas Ghost smirks underneath his mask and moves away to sit on a plastic chair nearby. Near this plastic chair is a long, bare table with a plastic bottle full of water at the end.

Two seconds are all it takes for them to stand up. You notice the fine sheet of sweat over their foreheads and necks, how their matching white T-shirts look so impossibly tight after such vigorous training, how their chests rise and fall as they breathe.

Your eyes especially stay glued to Roach. You don't even realize that your eyes are all over his torso and your lips are curved into a small smirk as he walks past you towards the table, with you turning in his direction to keep the gaze directed on the young sergeant. It isn't until you sense jealous, almost-murderous vibes coming from Ghost did you notice you're ogling.

Roach unscrews the cap on the plastic bottle and gingerly brings it to his mouth, tipping it over to drink some water. Despite the increased throbbing of your heart and slight burn in your cheeks as you watch him drink—throat moving as he swallowed, droplets running down his chin…who could bear to look away?—you notice, from the corner of your eyes, that Ghost is staring at Roach, too.

Roach wipes away the water dripping down his jaw and notices both of you looking at him. "What?" he arches a brow, confused, looking from you to his superior.

You flash him a small, innocent smile, whereas Ghost's expression is unreadable thanks to his mask. Slightly annoyed that you can't see his face (for you're sure he's probably giving Roach a dirty look—not the traditional one, but the look that implies "suggestive" things), you make a mental note to attempt and take off Ghost's balaclava at a later date.

Ozone must have noticed the small blush on your cheeks, for he grabs Roach's arm and whispers something to him, a cheeky grin plastered on his face as he does so. Roach seems hesitant at first, but then his lips break into a grin matching Ozone's and they both glance at you. They don't leave you perplexed for long, though, for Roach suddenly reaches down and takes his tight-ass shirt off.

For him to go from looking hot to downright irresistable is nothing short of a pleasant surprise for you. Blood rushes to your cheeks, tinting your face perhaps seven shades of red, your eyes widen, your body stiffens, and your jaw drops—an involuntarily cry escaping your mouth in the process.

Suddenly, Roach and Ozone burst into laughter. Mortified, you curse and look away, bitterly gritting your teeth. They wanted to see you embarrassed that way! It entertained them to see you so bashful; to hear that fangirl squeal.

Since you (reluctantly?) looked away, you're now facing Ghost. His eyes are watching Roach, with a strange glint of approval. You can almost imagine a smug smirk on his face, and you wonder what's going through the lieutenant's mind…

'Maybe he's thinking about how he's—' you catch your mental narrative at that moment, heart rate increasing. Images of Ghost planting soft kisses all over Roach's chest and abdomen come to mind. Almost sure you're blushing madly, you feel like banging your face against a table.

"Sorry for that, Private," Roach laughs, pulling the shirt back on though your inner-self doesn't want him to do so. "Just thought you looked kind of cute when you're shy."

Unable to give a coherent reply, you grunt and wave it off.

"Anyway, I'm going out with Meat, Toad and Ghost to get some stuff for the party tomorrow," Roach looks at you inquiringly.

"Yeah, the captain already told me about it," you nod, "Do you mind if I come along?"

"Sure, no problem," he smiles. "We're going around one o'clock in the afternoon." With that, he turns and follows the other six soldiers towards the main building.

After spending about two minutes of silence, Ghost suddenly talks. His voice startles you, for you forgot that he's still there.

"So, how was your first day?"

"It was fun," you reply, locking gazes. "The members are friendly, and the whole day was relatively entertaining."

Humming thoughtfully, he asks, almost suspiciously. "Any of the members caught your eye?"

"You could say that." Again, you lips are threatening to crack a bashful smile.

"Who?"

'Hmm, where to start? Let's see…Captain MacTavish, Roach, Archer, Toad—oh, did I mention you?' Obviously, voicing out this thought isn't a good idea. With a small sigh, you give him a lopsided smile. "Does it matter, Ghost? It's bad enough that I get a feeling Seraph's watching every move I make…"

"Well, I saw you staring at Roach," Ghost says, removing his glasses and rubbing his thumb over the lens.

'And I wasn't the only one staring, was I?' you think, arching an unimpressed brow though the thought is kept to yourself. Suddenly, it hits you. Ghost probably suspects you're interested in Roach. Well, there's no denying that—but he's worried you're possible competition?

The thought makes you want to laugh. If Roach is involved with Ghost in any way, you definitely don't want to get caught in the middle of it.

"Don't worry, sir," you reassure, giggling slightly. "The only competition you'll have to deal with is MacTavish."

The answer startles Ghost. Without giving him a chance to say anything, you move towards the main building.

The cafeteria is quickly becoming one of your favourite places of the base, especially when the members are there. This time, entering the said place is just fine as everybody is gathered around the many tables, chatting and joking and laughing.

"Hey, Private!" Toad suddenly calls out, waving a hand. He's sitting with two other soldiers. Scarecrow is on his right, whereas Archer is opposite them. Toad pats the empty spot on his left. "Come sit down with us!"

You comply and settle down comfortably next to Toad. Since the three men are eating and you have nothing to do, you remove your phone from your pocket and discover there's a Wi-Fi signal available.

"Password?" you ask, tapping on what is obviously the Task Force 141's Wi-Fi.

"141rox, spelled with the numbers and r-o-x," Scarecrow informs.

You access the internet signal and begin surfing the web. The men stir up a conversation among themselves as you begin reading a work of fan-fiction. Of course, you know what fan-fiction does—you eventually feel yourself smiling and suppressing creepy grins as you follow the tale of romantic comedy.

"What're you reading?" Toad suddenly leans towards you, trying to get a good peek of your phone's screen.

Holding the device away, you wag your head. "I'm reading something, alright?"

"Well, you're blushing a bit," Scarecrow points out, smirking. "Let me guess- erotica?"

"What? No!"

"Geez, mate, give her a break," Archer gives Scarecrow a reprimanding look. "You've been bugging her about sexual things since yesterday."

"I don't see anything wrong with that," Scarecrow's smirk widens. "Besides, I bet she'd hook up with me if she could."

A small giggle abruptly escapes your mouth. "Me? Get in bed with you? Keep dreaming, honey."

Toad laughs, whereas Archer chuckles. Scarecrow pretends to look offended. "Oh, come on! Don't deny that you've had at least a kind of fancy to get screwed by one of us!"

"Yeah, one of you being the keyword," you emphasize. "And you, my dear Scarecrow, are not one of those guys."

Suddenly, Toad flashes you a sneaky, seductive smirk. You freeze at the feeling of a hand crawling up your waist.

"Am I one of those guys, then?" he asks, whispering into your ear.

'Oh shit—holy FUCK—'

Your thoughts go into disarray again when you feel Toad's breath against your neck. As Scarecrow wails that Toad is being unfair, you sense another jealous, almost-murderous vibe—and then you realize it's emitting from Archer instead of Ghost this time.

Ignoring the strong urge to kiss Toad right then and there amid the fangirl adrenaline rush, you push his face away and giggle nervously. "Yeah…you know what, Christian? Stick to Archer."

Toad suddenly blushes. Archer's eyes widen slightly, but then returns to normal. You detect the smirk falling upon the sniper's lips as he takes another sip of his tea.

Your comment successfully shuts Toad up, who looks rather embarrassed, probably from memories of his intimate contact with his partner. He bites his bottom lip and turns back to his bowl, flinching a bit when Archer permits a deep, velvet-y chuckle to pass his lips.

Satisfied, you turn to the phone screen and continue to read.

A/N: So…I hope that wasn't as boring as I thought it was. I think the next one will turn out better.

Anyway, leave a review! :D