Gary godamn Sanderson.

Or Roach as he was now called. Soap had rechristened him after recovering the ADS module.

Ghost watched him at the shooting range and sighed deeply. He was captivating and Ghost hated it. Why did he have to find this man so attractive? As he hit another shot, Ghost's eyes wandered down to his stance. Steady and firmly planted, no wonder he barely moved with each shot. But there was something wrong. It took a few minutes but he finally saw it, Roach's left arm was bent awkwardly, sticking out from his body.

When he'd finished the set, Ghost moved closer to speak. "Why do you crook your elbow like that?"

Roach glanced around and frowned, looking down at his arm. "I injured my shoulder a while back and this was the easiest way for me to shoot. I guess it's just a habit now."

Ghost stepped up behind him and moved his arm in. "Try this, it might help."

He immediately regretted getting this close but knew it would only be more awkward if he backed off now. Roach lifted the rifle again, eyes narrowing in focus at the target. When he squeezed the trigger he slammed back into Ghost's chest and he was too shocked to even consider stepping back. The warmth that radiated from the Sergeant's body was immediate and Ghost had to fight the urge to pull him closer.

"I think it needs some work." Roach's mutter brought him back to his senses and he laughed. It was exactly what he'd been thinking too.

"Oi! Stop feeling up our Sergeants!" They both turned to see Soap walking by and he winked. "You're supposed to be training him!"

"Ignore him." Ghost said cooly and he stepped away. "He thinks he's funny."

"I am!"

Once Soap was gone, Ghost got close again, holding down his arm. "Try again."

He missed. "Why does it matter? My aim is fine as it is." Annoyingly even his frustration was attractive.

"Yeah until your arm sticks out and gets you spotted. Imagine being hunkered down on a mountain range waiting for your target. They're sweeping the area and your elbow isn't undercover so you're spotted. You're dead." Ghost mimicked shooting him in the head. "All because your arm was crooked."

"That's oddly specific."

"It's my job to keep you alive. Therefore, I pick up on anything that could be a weakness." He firmly held down Roach's arm. "Now let's go again until you can keep this down on your own."

Ghost kept at it for at least an hour until Roach could do it. Once he was satisfied he let the Sergeant go.

Back in the office, he found Soap and Price looking over some intel. "What's new?"

"Shepherd just sent word the ADS was still solid. Doesn't seem the Russians cracked it." Price folded up the paper and threw it away. "For now the wolves are being kept at bay."

Soap swivelled around and smirked. "Done feeling up poor Roach? How do you think he's fairing?"

"Well, I think he'll fit in fine." He didn't bother responding to the other question and sat down. "He's improved a lot over the past few months. Give him time and he'll be the best of the best."

"Good find of Soap's." Price clapped the other Captain on his shoulder, breaking into a small smile. "I wasn't too sure until I saw him shoot. He's got real talent, the type you can't teach. Reminds me of you when you wandered into my hangar back in the day."

"Alright old man, no need to get whimsical on me." He looked to Ghost and rolled his eyes. "We need the young blood."

"Excuse you, I'm still in my twenties."

"Just."

"Shut up you old farts." Ghost dropped into his seat with a sigh. "And give me some of that damned paperwork, your desk is a mess."

"My pleasure."

Ghost spent the afternoon focusing on the paperwork and definitely not on how warm Roach's body had felt pressed up against his, for the most part anyway. It was late by the time he finished so he stopped to grab some food from the cafeteria. It was quiet, even the rec room was empty so most of the squad must've been down at the local village. He glanced out the window and paused, noticing the lights on in the gym.

Who in their right mind was working out this late at night?

Curious, Ghost went to investigate. He knew it was a bad idea as soon as he opened the door and saw Roach laid out on the bench press. He could hear the low hum of music so got closer. Irritation flashed through him at the thought of this guy training without a spotter. Was he trying to get himself killed?

He kicked his foot and Roach put the bar down, lifting his head. Ghost folded his arms across his chest but before he could say anything he spoke up.

"Spot me, then I can increase the weights."

"What makes you think I don't have better things to do?"

"Why else would you be here?"

"Saw the lights on and wondered who would be working out at this time." Ghost sighed and shook his head. "You have a death wish Sanderson."

"But I'm hard to kill."

"Fine, I'll spot you." Ghost moved behind his head and waited. "What are you waiting for?"

"Can you increase the weights?" Roach leaned back and smiled charmingly, dimple reappearing.

Ghost's defences crumbled so fast it was scary. This was a weakness he'd never encountered before and without realising it, he'd increased the weights. "How much can you handle?"

"About two-fifty comfortable. I can do three hundred for one rep."

"Shit, you could pick me up." Ghost wanted to see this, Roach was well built and looked capable of it.

He laughed. "What about you?"

"Three-two-five comfortably. I could push four hundred for one rep."

"Show off."

It was Ghost's turn to laugh. He held up the bar and allowed Roach to take the weight. As he did, he frowned up at him. Yeah, Ghost wanted to know if he really could rep two-fifty. A lot of the guys talked big. But Roach wasn't one of them apparently, he managed eight full reps before sitting up.

If watching him lift weights wasn't attractive Ghost didn't know what was. He had to fight hard to repress the urge to just push the other man down and… no, no he wasn't going to entertain these thoughts.

"Didn't believe me?"

Ghost grabbed him a drink, trying to get his mind back in order. "No, just wanted to see." He wasn't about to forget this either. The image of Roach lifting weights was forever burning into his memories.

"Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Maybe next time." Ghost sat down next to him. "If I get shot in the field at least I know you can carry me out." Being six foot two and over two hundred pounds had its disadvantages.

"I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine."

Ghost looked him over. Roach couldn't be more than five foot eleven and one hundred sixty pounds. "Deal." They shook hands. "Now do it again."

Roach groaned.

"Lieutenant's orders."

Incredibly, Ghost found himself smiling. It was kind of fun really, being there with Roach. Not that he'd ever admit it out loud. He had an easy-going attitude and self-deprecating humour that Ghost enjoyed. Most of the time when he was forced to be alone with people he found it awkward but Roach breezed through the conversation easily. Before he knew it two hours had passed.

"I think it's time to turn in." Roach glanced at his watch and wiped his face clean of sweat. "Thanks for helping me out."

"Anytime."

"I'm off to shower. See you in the morning I guess?"

"Bright and early for training." Ghost reminded him.

"Right." Roach waved farewell over his shoulder as he headed for the lockers.

Ghost watched him out of sight and blew out a long breath as the door swung shut. He was keyed up and had no idea why, he hadn't done any exercise. Roach's energy must be rubbed off on him.

Back in his room, he found himself pacing, still pent up. He couldn't get the Sergeant out of his head and it irritated him. How could he allow this guy to get under his skin like this?

There was one thing he could think of to help. An old trick somebody had taught him years ago. When something or someone wouldn't leave your thoughts, drawing would help purge the thoughts. He found a fresh notebook and stared at the blank page. Would this be classed as creepy? Probably. If Roach ever saw this he would think he was a freak but then again he probably already thought that. Besides, Ghost was never going to take this notebook out of his room.

Comforted by this fact he relaxed. As soon as he did it became easy to draw, remembering Roach's smile as he laid back on the bench press, a hint of a dimple on his left cheek.

Ghost leaned back and flexed his aching hand, studying the drawing. It had an incredible likeness to the real Roach and he felt guilty about drawing it like he was breaching the man's privacy somehow. Slamming the notebook shut he threw it into the drawer.

Fucking hell he was drawing Roach now. What the hell was he doing?

Ghost stripped and got into bed, resolutely not thinking about the Sergeant and consequently thinking of nothing else.