#Riddian ‘Grim’ Poe

[gunnrblze]

Ajax’s little picture on the wall of Rorkes kill list…your honor he’s adorable (;_;)

Additional thought; who are these two? Perhaps Torch and Grim, since they’re the only other Ghosts missing/dead?

[hellbuticy]

riddian “grim” poe and chris “torch” greene hc's bc why not

torch was navy. grim was a marine

torch got his call sign when he was a young LT and crashed too hard on a landing, his landing gear burst into flames (he's a pilot)

grim was just a ghostly lookin mf. that and his recruit class thought it was fitting since his name was straight outta gothic literature. (like bruh. RIDDIAN. POE??) but what got him GRIM was the scythe tattoo on his pec

torch was the same age as merrick. grim was younger but still older than ajax

their personalities were the complete opposite of their callsigns; torch was quiet and reserved, extremely off-putting while grim was more social and didn't shut up

grim gave the vibes of that one uncle who pays you 20bucks to say the f word in front of your dad

it was common amongst the ghosts that grim and kick would be leading the daily "bullshit" rants

grim was MARSOC before viper. torch was a SEAL pilot

grim got along best with ajax and keegan bc the marines STICK TOGETHER. OORAH. but he always made it his mission to annoy the absolute FUCK out of the neptune and torch (who were the brooding pilots)

torch and merrick actually got along the best. being SEALs n all

grim was corpsmen certified while torch ACTUALLY WAS a corpsman

torch had so many qualifications under his belt the rest of the ghosts wondered how tf he did it

torch was actually their exfil and chopper guy. his plane was shot down when he tried to reach ajax (the mission that got ajax captured)

grim was doing recon in fed territory but rorke had already had a hit on him so.. yeah. (lets just say grim got the worst treatment)

(yk when ajax got fucked up for flipping off the fed soldiers? well that was also grim but 10x worse)

torch was an east coast fuck. grim was from the PNW.

[1112lw]

i’m drawing the "faceless" ghosts members so here’s kick and grim

[nameless-characters]

(WIP SO VERY MUCH WIP) Master list of characters, their tags, and a little blurb about them:

Ocs:

Shim Hun - (#Character: Miserere Mei) Extreme levels of power can be addicting, dangerously so.

Sam Highwater - (#Character: The Human Mind Is An Evolutionary Maladaptation) Maybe don't use a hacker as a test subject for an experiment involving digitizing minds.

Evan Highwater - (#Character: The Trees Have Seen You Savage) Sometimes you go missing as a teenager and experience what is basically a Resident Evil game.

Riddian “Shuck" Riorsen - (#Character: Black Dog - Bloody Teeth) Did you know that sometimes when someone dies, their soul can slip through the cracks of reality?

Edmund Byrne - (#Character: Selkie Song) Selkie, but make it a leopard seal.

Cicada - (#Character: Cicada Swarm) Terrible bastard man who I hate.

Donovan Dantanian - (#Character: Hunter (Hunted). Mine (Yours)) Sometimes you establish a homoerotic relationship with the demon that's possessing you. So what.

Wilbur "Daredevil" Feldmann - (#Character: Aim for the Head. and May the Saints Look Away) Cocky as hell, and powerful enough to back it up.

Video Game Ocs:

Cyberpunk 2077: V // Taeyeon Kim - (#Character: View From The Edge) Netrunner, music producer, and AI specialist. Making robots in the form of humans is boring. I'm gonna make a dragon.

FFXIV: Warrior of Light // Kirin Touyama - (#Character: I’m So Sorry. He’s A Hero.) Being the saviour of the world is complicated when you don't remember further back than arriving in Limsa Lominsa.

Warframe: Kalton King - (N/A) You don't have to only use warframe abilities, weapons exist too y'know.

Ocs I have stuffed into the skin of existing characters:

COD: Roach // Gary Sanderson - (#Character: Blood Tastes Like Longing) He's Canadian now because I said so.

Valorant: Omen - (#Character: L'appel Du Vide) *Slaps Omen on the back* this bad boy can fit so many Issues.

COD: Grim // Riddian Poe - (#Character: Black Dog - Bloody Teeth) Yes this is the same character as Riddian Riorsen, different names for different universes.

[gunnrblze]

Thinking about how all the other Ghosts reacted to and coped with the insanity of sand viper, especially with Captain Gabriel “I’m actually fine, thanks” Rorke, who’s XP apparently only doubled upon experiencing the trauma.

I imagine they all had various degrees of post traumatic stress from the event, specifically Keegan, Ajax, and Merrick, who were all under the age of 20 at the time (I stillll cannot believe that’s realistic in any way, but canon age is canon age lmfao). But I wonder just how much they were all affected and how it all played out.

An almost 30 year old Lieutenant Walker, around the age we see Hesh in the game, who had two little boys (and maybe a wife still) at home. Do you think he thought about them after he fought for the civilians in that hospital? How did he feel being second in command during such an unprecedented, transformative event not only for his career, but for the world, really. Who wouldn’t idolize Rorke to the highest degree after leading such a team to victory?

How did a 19 year old navy seal Merrick cope with what was probably one of the first more major combat missions of his career? He’d only been a seal for two years up until this point. Did he imagine his father and grandfather, if they’d be proud of him for getting through unscathed? Both men were killed in their own military careers, but Merrick made it through, with this new team. He wasn’t even old enough to buy a drink yet, but he could help take on 500 enemy soldiers.

Keegan and Ajax were 16 and 17, literal children, who couldn’t have had any fucking clue what they were really doing. Until they did. They had to. Did they ever imagine themselves in a classroom instead? Hanging out with their friends instead of hiding under their deceased bloodied bodies in the desert sand? Did anybody ever tell them they deserved that life instead of this one?

If we knew more of Kick, Neptune, Torch and Grim, more could be said of how they might’ve handled it. But how does one really handle fighting until their gun runs out of ammo, until their knife blade dulls against enemy skin, until they’re left to fight with just their bare hands? How do you look at yourself in the mirror after becoming part of a force “so menacing and unbeatable, it can only be described as supernatural” over the course of just three days?

So how, pray tell, do you cope when your Captain only acts more level headed after the matter? All of the remaining soldiers were put under psychological evaluation, and Rorke went unaffected by it all.

How did they feel watching Rorke slip through the cracks and come out the other side more calm? Three days and nights of hell, and their commanding officer just goes “well…anyways” I’d personally go even more insane from that alone I think.

And additionally, what carbon fiber steel nervous system does Rorke have anyways? To not be outrightly traumatized by such an event in the first place is one thing, but to become better because of it? Sharper and clearer and focused, while his comrades were no doubt riddled with anxiety and nightmares at the least? It’s giving robot!

[gunnrblze]

‘Operation: Sand Viper’ moodboard

[gunnrblze]

Morale Boost

Rorke x Elias, SFW, 2700k words

CW: nothing much, angst(?), horrific and nauseating amounts of pining, yearning, and teasing. a singular brief mention of strip poker lol

Hello gang, ngl this is very all over the place I fear, hardly proofread and maybe a lil confusing, generally not my best lol. Silly dumb lil thing about my favorite homoerotic coded old men though cause I <3 them severely.

Celebrations of any kind, whether big or small, were few and far between. There simply wasn’t time to dwell on things for too long, came with the territory of the job.

So when the Ghosts did have downtime to celebrate a win, they took it.

A successful recon and intel mission near the border of No Man’s Land awarded the team with boatloads of info on Federation security and weapons distribution, along a base that they’d planned to give a bit of…reconstruction to. They had an in, and got out, too.

Once back on their home turf, the men yearned to relax and rejuvenate for as long as they could before duty called again. Elias mentioning something about boosting morale after the grueling mission, to which Rorke could only concede.

Not that he historically had a particularly hard time giving in to his lieutenant, that is.

They all settled into a sparsely filled common room on base. A worn in leather couch lining the wall, with a table and a few squeaky desk chairs around its edges. A matching and peeling leather chair shoved in the corner. A small, dusty kitchenette that clearly wasn’t used very often, and a few lamps that provided enough light. It wasn’t much, but they didn’t need much.

Keegan and Ajax supplied some beers from god knows where on base. Nobody asked, even when the men that slurped them down could tell they’d definitely been anything but refrigerated for a while.

Torch had an old pack of playing cards lying around his quarters which piqued enough interest among the men, and Merrick, to the shock of absolutely no one, drug out a bottle of whiskey for their little occasion.

Neptune planted himself in the corner chair and ignored the groans of everyone when he lit a cigarette inside, except Kick, who was too busy reveling in the fact that he found an expired pack of Oreos in the kitchenette drawer.

Some of the men huddled around the old table and squeaked around in their chairs, while Torch and Grim argued over the rules of poker for a few minutes. Rorke seemed as intrigued with the whiskey that Merrick had supplied as Keegan was, who abandoned his beer to Ajax to take a shot of the smooth liquid himself.

Elias could only grin as he relaxed into the beat up couch, a drinking game already at play between a few of the soldiers. Although it was hard to tell where the game started and where the need to just get a little tipsy ended.

From afar, Elias watched his Captain. Watched the way his adams apple bobbed when he took a shot of the potent liquor. The way his thick arms crossed and folded to lean over Torch’s shoulder and insist how real men play poker, whispering something that made the younger man chuckle and made Ajax beg to be let in on the joke. His eyes followed the way the man’s chest grumbled in a chuckle when Kick insisted the best way to play was actually strip poker, the cheeky bastard earning a silent slap on the back of the neck from Keegan.

He didn’t usually have time to really look at the man. The greying soldier far too busy watching him bark out commands all day and then following them. Who was the real dog, if not Elias? Rorke barked and damn near bared his teeth during battle, but Elias followed him around endlessly. His lieutenant, second in command, right hand man and comrade. His dog, if there ever was one. To the ends of the earth, he’d follow him.

But he didn’t get to observe his Captain in a setting like this very often, no. Relaxed and at ease as the man came strutting over loosely to the very couch he was already sunken into. Three shots in, and Rorke was still hardly able to even be classified as tipsy, too large and brutish to be swayed very much. But just enough to perk up his snarky attitude and turn it into a near playful one.

He sat down next to Elias, thick thighs spreading out on instinct. Knocking a knee against his lieutenants with a chuckle, head nodding to the group of soldiers playing poker, or maybe it was black jack, at the table ahead.

“C’mon Walker, you always have been a decent card player, join em” the older man would grin as he looked over at Elias, donning that signature smirk that always made his heart beat out of pace for a moment, despite having known his Captain for so long. Despite being able to map out the lines and scars on his face as if that were his real job here.

He chuckled loosely, shaking his head as he sipped down the stale tasting beer that Ajax had nearly shoved in his hand earlier, insisting that the old man relax a bit too.

Rorke chuckled back, deep and carrying that air of confidence that seemed to follow him everywhere, as his eyes lingered on Elias’ lips around the can for a beat too long. They made a few seconds of that eye contact, that precious, knowing look being shared. I’d stare all day long, if I could.

It made Elias’ heart do that thing again, the one that he’d started to write off as older age catching up to him. A heart palpitation here and there wasn’t a bad thing, he reckoned.

Everyone was engrossed with the game at the table, including Neptune who was on his second cigarette in the near corner, and Kick, who’s energy seemed to only multiple upon eating that sleeve of too soft Oreos that had him bouncing back and forth between leaning against the kitchenette and hovering over Grims shoulder to watch the game.

Elias knew well enough that with their slight distance from the group across the room, and the whiskey coursing through Rorkes veins, that they’d fall into that old song and dance again for a bit.

The one where all the unspoken words came bubbling to the surface, but apparently never enough to crack through.

“Ya did good on that op, brother…Merrick and I might not have made it out had you not been roundin the corner…” Rorkes voice was quieter now, but not soft, perhaps distanced. It rumbled out of his throat all the same, tinged with a meaning that only Elias could read through the cracks of.

You’re a good soldier, Lieutenant, never could get your head outta my ass for very long, Elias could almost hear the words that really threatened to spill from his mouth.

“You and Merrick could find your way out of a labyrinth, hardly needed an assist” he countered as he nursed his beer, not quite a retort yet.

You know damn well you’re just talking to fill the silence, you two had that in the bag, Rorke could similarly hear what Elias was really getting at, just too stubborn to ever take an opportunity to admit it.

Rorke chuckled and gave a short nod, knee still pressed against his Lieutenants on the beat up little couch they sat on. The game raved on in the middle of the room, Keegan not very surprisingly having the best poker face among the group, only Torch’s coming close to rivaling it.

“You know what I mean” Rorke settled for with a sigh that was too casual, legs spreading on the couch a bit more as he settled in. He didn’t miss the way Elias’ eyes roamed over his legs, not missing a beat with his comeback, though.

“Always have” he nodded, the silent tension between them strung out like an electrical wiring, making the liquor in Rorkes blood feel more like molten lava, heating his core up more than necessary. He wondered vaguely if Elias could ever cool him down, whatever that really meant.

They spoke and read between one another’s lines perfectly, familiarly. Hearts clawing for more while their brains simultaneously agreed that breaking the professional line would muck it all up far too much for either of their liking.

It was too convenient for the both of them. Elias could pretend that things stayed the way they were because he could never speak to his Captain the way he might actually want to. And Rorke could pretend that nothing changed because nothing could change. He wouldn’t admit any sort of feelings for a subordinate, for his Lieutenant, because that’s too far out of line. They’re too busy for that.

They both hid under the guise of rank and the ever demanding job being the stake in the road, keeping their misplaced glances and touches at bay with a simple, unspoken reminder that Elias needs to stay in his place, and that it’s Rorke’s job to keep him there.

They both knew, however. That the feeling wasn’t one of comradeship, much as they both liked to dance around it in their heads as well. They were in a room filled to the brim with their fellow soldiers. Their fellow men, their brothers whom they’d go to hell and back for again without question.

And as much as Elias knew that he damn near worshipped his Captain, he also couldn’t bring himself to admit an existence beyond being a windowed husband, a single father. Rorke wasn’t anything to him that could be defined out of the dictionary, he just was.

Perhaps Rorke was the more realistic of the two, his image of Elias taking more shape within his imagination. His right hand, his loyal lieutenant, someone he couldn’t bear to go without whether on the field or not. A man that Rorke knew would do absolutely anything for him, if only he’d ask. His worshipper. He didn’t want it to inflate his ego but it did. Because truthfully, there was no one Rorke looked up to more than Elias, rank be damned.

Elias’ devotion kept him awake at night. Clawing at his chest like a beast, desperate to pry open his ribcage and tear apart the chambers of his heart. He knew the only person, the only thing more important to Elias than him was the man’s sons.

He loved the boys by proxy through everything Elias would tell him. He distantly wondered if there would ever be a time where he could meet them. Meet the kids that kept his lieutenants world spinning, despite the way it was constantly crashing and crumbling around them.

They sat in silence for a while as the boys played their poker and drank their beers. Neither of them could keep track of how many games had been played at this point. Rorke was just content his men were getting some much needed down time, despite the one nagging at his side, even in the man’s silence somehow.

“Good idea you had, morale seems to be boosted” Rorke would speak up again after the tension had settled a bit, nudging Elias with an elbow, flashing him that grin that he swore Elias would mirror subconsciously sometimes. As if his will were not his own, too swayed by the older man’s gruff charm.

“Much needed” Elias would agree, giving a nod and continuing to sip on the beer that he wasn’t too sure he even wanted anymore. Rorke raised an eyebrow at the man, unable to wipe the smirk off his face as he shamelessly let his eyes roam over the man’s features.

Elias met his eyes, and cocked his own brow. He could feel his Captains gaze burning through him, that look in his eyes that he’d seen before. Rarely, but recognizable to him from somewhere.

“Is your morale boosted, Lieutenant?” Ah, that was the look. The one he donned before he got a little mouthy. Before he let that carefully constructed wall built between the two of them crumble for a moment. If not just to see what would happen before he patches it right back up.

Elias blinked for a moment, before huffing an almost unamused laugh. He wasn’t sure how he wanted to play this game, very aware that despite everyone being more than occupied, they were still in a room full of keen and curious men. Some who could also read between their lines sometimes.

“For now” the man replied smoothly, the knee still pressed to his Captains deciding to press a bit closer, earning him another cock of Rorkes eyebrow. An almost surprised one.

“For now?” Rorke echoed back with a hint of amusement, letting Elias press his knee closer. Letting him test the waters that they both knew he ultimately controlled.

The greying man simply hummed in agreement, gaze flickering back between the rowdy soldiers at the makeshift poker table and the brown eyes that threatened to burn through his own. A silent reminder that neither of them needed. We aren’t alone.

They danced on this line for a minute, wondering who should speak next. If either of them had the misplaced confidence to take the moment and stretch it out even more thin.

“By all means, Eli, if there’s something you need to keep your confidence up…” he was toying with the man now, getting personal. Dangling something in front of him that Elias would never really be granted. And the lieutenant wasn’t sure what to do with that, had he ever been this forward? Despite knowing it was all in vain anyway?

“Don’t start, Gabe” he retorted, lips stretching thin and unamused, the glare in his eyes usually reserved for his misbehaving boys. And the whiskey still swirling in Rorkes blood only enabled his boldness, grinning at Elias’ displeasure.

“Still wound up, ain’t’cha?” He’d grin at his lieutenant again, not so subtly licking over his bottom lip. It made Elias heart stop for a moment, he was sure, if not for the sole fact that this was more brave than Rorke had ever been with him. He felt like a dog being fed scraps, his Captain toying with him whenever he felt like it, yanking his chain just enough to rip it out from under him at the end.

Elias’ nostrils flared. Maybe it was the shitty beer he’d drank, combined with the exhaustion from the mission and the noise of the other seven men playing god knows what with those cards, but his response only stoked a fire within him. An annoyance that was slowly increasing. A need climbing up his spine, threatening to curl around his neck like a noose.

“Wonder why” he kept it short again, similar to the leash he knew Rorke was still tethering him to. It made his fingers curl around his beer can, nail beds turning white as he made eye contact with his Captain again, seeing a look flare in his eyes, his breathing deepen just a bit.

The tense moment was broken as Keegan’s grumbling voice sounded out, announcing he was hitting the sack for the night, much to Kick and Ajax’s displeasure. He gave Rorke a nod, briefly glancing at his Lieutenant sat next to him. Not missing the tension that lingered between the two.

Elias took the moment to agree with the younger man, setting his can down and standing up from the couch.

“Now Keegan I expected, but you too, Lieutenant? Didn’t even play a round!” Kick replied, flashing his charming little grin toward Elias from across the room.

Elias gave him a smile, waving him off as he stretched his arms out, no doubt shaking off said tension that’d started to prickle at his skin like needles. He tossed his beer can and headed toward the door.

“Get some good shut eye, Lieutenant, that’s an order…or I’ll come a knockin” Rorke muttered loud enough for Elias to hear, making the man pause momentarily to look back, eyes locking once more on that shit eating little grin plastered on his Captains face.

He didn’t know what that meant. He wasn’t sure how serious Rorke was being. What that would entail, but he briefly wondered if he should ignore his exhaustion long enough to find out.

Elias eyes met with his, and Rorke saw it again. The flame that drew him back to his Lieutenant time and time again. The fire he wanted to stoke, yet snuff out at the same time.

“Yes, sir”

[hellbuticy]

because the people (that one anon) asked… riddian “grim” poe hcs

• was the second oldest of the marines (rorke being the 1st) but he never acted as such

•his personality was the COMPLETE OPPOSITE of his callsign

• despite being a marine in sand viper, he wasnt in keegan/ajax’s team nor rorke’s. he was apart of another team where he was the last one standing

•during SV, torch acted as the field medic, so after the fighting was done he cleaned up the men. when he was cleaning a knife wound in riddian’s shoulder, he saw the scythe tattoo on the other’s pec and told him “the grim reaper wasn’t ready for you yet”

•it was the first time somebody made Grim feel human since the fighting and that birthed his “obsession” with torch

• his father was a english professor at the University of Washington (PNW fuck), hence being birthed with a name like Riddian Poe

• his father was all he had, supported him going the USMC, and going thru MARSOC and everything that he did. but his father died in the odin attacks

•grim was a tortured little soul but he never let it be shown.

• was always placing bets with kick and ajax. let it be known the ghosts had a gambling problem and it was all due to them

•he was a tall fucker but always made himself smaller by slouching, bending his knees, sitting on desks and chairs, crouching or just refusing to stand up straight.

•that and torch was SLIGHTLY taller than him.. which he liked.

•always the one to be fucking around. but always the one the flip the switch the fastest. when it was needed Grim got right to business with no room for bs. it made the ghosts respect him highly

•had a half mask like merrick/keegan but he never painted his eyes like keegan. so when he was looking at the boys he was LOOKING at them.

•had a staring problem. always making eye contact and it was the eye contact that made the boys’ skin crawl

•wasnt good at recovering after a mission. he’d run himself ragged bc he could never fight the feeling of death. even if it was committed by his hands

•grim got underneath people’s skin RELENTLESSLY as it was the death of him. he didn’t have to die as painfully as he did but he would rather go out with the pride that he irritated Rorke so much than die for the hell of it

•the very first to know rorke was alive and a fed. it broke him, but it made him run his mouth in anger.

•he did all the Ghosts reports and paperwork bc he loved it. he would sit in the hangar writing while torch worked on whatever (reminded him when he used to help grade his dad’s papers)

•always cold. like middle of the dessert and his hands would be icicles, so for that sake, he wore and was often the most layered of the ghosts

•he babied kick. bc kick had a personality like his and they got along easy. kick was the thorn in merrick’s side just as grim was the thorn in torch’s side.

•grim called torch by his first name. chris this. chris that. they never used their callsigns. even on mission.

•a raccoon man. he fed the strays on base and always joked about obtaining a raccoon army

•the team was often concerned with the shit that came out of grim’a mouth but they brushed off. HOPING grim was just joking

[hellbuticy]

fixating on fucking riddian “grim” poe and chris “torch” greene

[hellbuticy]

https://youtube.com/shorts/j3aOGErb2wo?si=JMiSsbXg7e03f_IJ

this is actually torch and grim. we all know whos who 😂

[gunnrblze]

Would you consider writing some grim and torch headcannons :)? I want to know more info on those boys

Tbh my brain is not working lol, so it’s hard for me to come up with anything since their characters have not even a drop of lore 😭

However, if you haven’t already seen @hellbuticy’s post about them here, you definitely should cus I love how they’re characterized <3

[hellbuticy]

I simply must know, what are your grim headcannons? What does this man look like to you? Also, what do you think torch looks like as well?

well anon i hate to tell you… I GOT NO FUCKING CLUE!! nah im playing !

well um… haven’t really thought that far in terms of grim hc BUT THEYLL COME SOON, trust in me anon.

but in seriousness, i cant really pull features for them yet only vibes. but i am open to other’s perception of them and what THEY think the faceless ghosts look like

[hellbuticy]

chris “torch” greene hcs BECAUSE WHY TF NOT

• preferred to be a co pilot for neptune. as he got older he started to realize being head wasnt what he wanted

• was often the one stitching any of the ghosts up since he had a very gentle hand

• always made it seem like grim was the BANE of his existence but he secretly adored the man

• called all of the ghosts “brother” even the youngest ones like keegan and ajax

• except grim. torch called grim “poe” or “ian” bc he liked to shorten names but ridi was just weird to him

• when any of the ghosts got a reprimand from rorke (pre pit) they would go to torch to just watch him work on the planes and/or practice medicine

•the mechanic of the team also

•nobody knows when or how he learned so much and got official certificates/qualification to practice his skills

•a running bet between the marines and kick that he was immortal so he had so much time to learn all of skills

•when the ghosts recovered his body, and buried it in ghosts matter, kick placed a hundred dollar bill in the trigger hole of his rifle and said to the ghost “you won. you weren’t immortal after all”

• the second ghost to die. grim being first, then torch, then ajax

• ajax and kick had a running bet that torch and grim were fucking when they saw grim in a navy hoodie that DEFINITELY wasnt merrick’s (since he was the only other SEAL on the team)

• keegan was his favorite bc he knew. to shut. the. fuck. up.

• with riddian and kick and then ajax, put them all together, they never did stfu (he enjoyed the noise and shit talking)

• for ghosts business he never had an official mask like the others, his flight helmet with the tinted visor did enough to conceal his identity. but he did have the under jaw of a skull painted on his helmet

•off duty he was always in a hoodie. and since STALKER didnt have official gear, he was always in his old navy hoodies

• had hardcore ankle and shoulder problems (after long missions he would limp around base bc his ankles would lock up)

• didnt speak to anybody for 2 weeks after recovering riddian’s body, for it was mutilated from torture and it burned his soul

• he wouldve LOVED riley bc he was a dog man

[bigboy-lovers-unite]

MWAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Morale Boost

Rorke x Elias, SFW, 2700k words

CW: nothing much, angst(?), horrific and nauseating amounts of pining, yearning, and teasing. a singular brief mention of strip poker lol

Hello gang, ngl this is very all over the place I fear, hardly proofread and maybe a lil confusing, generally not my best lol. Silly dumb lil thing about my favorite homoerotic coded old men though cause I <3 them severely.

Celebrations of any kind, whether big or small, were few and far between. There simply wasn’t time to dwell on things for too long, came with the territory of the job.

So when the Ghosts did have downtime to celebrate a win, they took it.

A successful recon and intel mission near the border of No Man’s Land awarded the team with boatloads of info on Federation security and weapons distribution, along a base that they’d planned to give a bit of…reconstruction to. They had an in, and got out, too.

Once back on their home turf, the men yearned to relax and rejuvenate for as long as they could before duty called again. Elias mentioning something about boosting morale after the grueling mission, to which Rorke could only concede.

Not that he historically had a particularly hard time giving in to his lieutenant, that is.

They all settled into a sparsely filled common room on base. A worn in leather couch lining the wall, with a table and a few squeaky desk chairs around its edges. A matching and peeling leather chair shoved in the corner. A small, dusty kitchenette that clearly wasn’t used very often, and a few lamps that provided enough light. It wasn’t much, but they didn’t need much.

Keegan and Ajax supplied some beers from god knows where on base. Nobody asked, even when the men that slurped them down could tell they’d definitely been anything but refrigerated for a while.

Torch had an old pack of playing cards lying around his quarters which piqued enough interest among the men, and Merrick, to the shock of absolutely no one, drug out a bottle of whiskey for their little occasion.

Neptune planted himself in the corner chair and ignored the groans of everyone when he lit a cigarette inside, except Kick, who was too busy reveling in the fact that he found an expired pack of Oreos in the kitchenette drawer.

Some of the men huddled around the old table and squeaked around in their chairs, while Torch and Grim argued over the rules of poker for a few minutes. Rorke seemed as intrigued with the whiskey that Merrick had supplied as Keegan was, who abandoned his beer to Ajax to take a shot of the smooth liquid himself.

Elias could only grin as he relaxed into the beat up couch, a drinking game already at play between a few of the soldiers. Although it was hard to tell where the game started and where the need to just get a little tipsy ended.

From afar, Elias watched his Captain. Watched the way his adams apple bobbed when he took a shot of the potent liquor. The way his thick arms crossed and folded to lean over Torch’s shoulder and insist how real men play poker, whispering something that made the younger man chuckle and made Ajax beg to be let in on the joke. His eyes followed the way the man’s chest grumbled in a chuckle when Kick insisted the best way to play was actually strip poker, the cheeky bastard earning a silent slap on the back of the neck from Keegan.

He didn’t usually have time to really look at the man. The greying soldier far too busy watching him bark out commands all day and then following them. Who was the real dog, if not Elias? Rorke barked and damn near bared his teeth during battle, but Elias followed him around endlessly. His lieutenant, second in command, right hand man and comrade. His dog, if there ever was one. To the ends of the earth, he’d follow him.

But he didn’t get to observe his Captain in a setting like this very often, no. Relaxed and at ease as the man came strutting over loosely to the very couch he was already sunken into. Three shots in, and Rorke was still hardly able to even be classified as tipsy, too large and brutish to be swayed very much. But just enough to perk up his snarky attitude and turn it into a near playful one.

He sat down next to Elias, thick thighs spreading out on instinct. Knocking a knee against his lieutenants with a chuckle, head nodding to the group of soldiers playing poker, or maybe it was black jack, at the table ahead.

“C’mon Walker, you always have been a decent card player, join em” the older man would grin as he looked over at Elias, donning that signature smirk that always made his heart beat out of pace for a moment, despite having known his Captain for so long. Despite being able to map out the lines and scars on his face as if that were his real job here.

He chuckled loosely, shaking his head as he sipped down the stale tasting beer that Ajax had nearly shoved in his hand earlier, insisting that the old man relax a bit too.

Rorke chuckled back, deep and carrying that air of confidence that seemed to follow him everywhere, as his eyes lingered on Elias’ lips around the can for a beat too long. They made a few seconds of that eye contact, that precious, knowing look being shared. I’d stare all day long, if I could.

It made Elias’ heart do that thing again, the one that he’d started to write off as older age catching up to him. A heart palpitation here and there wasn’t a bad thing, he reckoned.

Everyone was engrossed with the game at the table, including Neptune who was on his second cigarette in the near corner, and Kick, who’s energy seemed to only multiple upon eating that sleeve of too soft Oreos that had him bouncing back and forth between leaning against the kitchenette and hovering over Grims shoulder to watch the game.

Elias knew well enough that with their slight distance from the group across the room, and the whiskey coursing through Rorkes veins, that they’d fall into that old song and dance again for a bit.

The one where all the unspoken words came bubbling to the surface, but apparently never enough to crack through.

“Ya did good on that op, brother…Merrick and I might not have made it out had you not been roundin the corner…” Rorkes voice was quieter now, but not soft, perhaps distanced. It rumbled out of his throat all the same, tinged with a meaning that only Elias could read through the cracks of.

You’re a good soldier, Lieutenant, never could get your head outta my ass for very long, Elias could almost hear the words that really threatened to spill from his mouth.

“You and Merrick could find your way out of a labyrinth, hardly needed an assist” he countered as he nursed his beer, not quite a retort yet.

You know damn well you’re just talking to fill the silence, you two had that in the bag, Rorke could similarly hear what Elias was really getting at, just too stubborn to ever take an opportunity to admit it.

Rorke chuckled and gave a short nod, knee still pressed against his Lieutenants on the beat up little couch they sat on. The game raved on in the middle of the room, Keegan not very surprisingly having the best poker face among the group, only Torch’s coming close to rivaling it.

“You know what I mean” Rorke settled for with a sigh that was too casual, legs spreading on the couch a bit more as he settled in. He didn’t miss the way Elias’ eyes roamed over his legs, not missing a beat with his comeback, though.

“Always have” he nodded, the silent tension between them strung out like an electrical wiring, making the liquor in Rorkes blood feel more like molten lava, heating his core up more than necessary. He wondered vaguely if Elias could ever cool him down, whatever that really meant.

They spoke and read between one another’s lines perfectly, familiarly. Hearts clawing for more while their brains simultaneously agreed that breaking the professional line would muck it all up far too much for either of their liking.

It was too convenient for the both of them. Elias could pretend that things stayed the way they were because he could never speak to his Captain the way he might actually want to. And Rorke could pretend that nothing changed because nothing could change. He wouldn’t admit any sort of feelings for a subordinate, for his Lieutenant, because that’s too far out of line. They’re too busy for that.

They both hid under the guise of rank and the ever demanding job being the stake in the road, keeping their misplaced glances and touches at bay with a simple, unspoken reminder that Elias needs to stay in his place, and that it’s Rorke’s job to keep him there.

They both knew, however. That the feeling wasn’t one of comradeship, much as they both liked to dance around it in their heads as well. They were in a room filled to the brim with their fellow soldiers. Their fellow men, their brothers whom they’d go to hell and back for again without question.

And as much as Elias knew that he damn near worshipped his Captain, he also couldn’t bring himself to admit an existence beyond being a windowed husband, a single father. Rorke wasn’t anything to him that could be defined out of the dictionary, he just was.

Perhaps Rorke was the more realistic of the two, his image of Elias taking more shape within his imagination. His right hand, his loyal lieutenant, someone he couldn’t bear to go without whether on the field or not. A man that Rorke knew would do absolutely anything for him, if only he’d ask. His worshipper. He didn’t want it to inflate his ego but it did. Because truthfully, there was no one Rorke looked up to more than Elias, rank be damned.

Elias’ devotion kept him awake at night. Clawing at his chest like a beast, desperate to pry open his ribcage and tear apart the chambers of his heart. He knew the only person, the only thing more important to Elias than him was the man’s sons.

He loved the boys by proxy through everything Elias would tell him. He distantly wondered if there would ever be a time where he could meet them. Meet the kids that kept his lieutenants world spinning, despite the way it was constantly crashing and crumbling around them.

They sat in silence for a while as the boys played their poker and drank their beers. Neither of them could keep track of how many games had been played at this point. Rorke was just content his men were getting some much needed down time, despite the one nagging at his side, even in the man’s silence somehow.

“Good idea you had, morale seems to be boosted” Rorke would speak up again after the tension had settled a bit, nudging Elias with an elbow, flashing him that grin that he swore Elias would mirror subconsciously sometimes. As if his will were not his own, too swayed by the older man’s gruff charm.

“Much needed” Elias would agree, giving a nod and continuing to sip on the beer that he wasn’t too sure he even wanted anymore. Rorke raised an eyebrow at the man, unable to wipe the smirk off his face as he shamelessly let his eyes roam over the man’s features.

Elias met his eyes, and cocked his own brow. He could feel his Captains gaze burning through him, that look in his eyes that he’d seen before. Rarely, but recognizable to him from somewhere.

“Is your morale boosted, Lieutenant?” Ah, that was the look. The one he donned before he got a little mouthy. Before he let that carefully constructed wall built between the two of them crumble for a moment. If not just to see what would happen before he patches it right back up.

Elias blinked for a moment, before huffing an almost unamused laugh. He wasn’t sure how he wanted to play this game, very aware that despite everyone being more than occupied, they were still in a room full of keen and curious men. Some who could also read between their lines sometimes.

“For now” the man replied smoothly, the knee still pressed to his Captains deciding to press a bit closer, earning him another cock of Rorkes eyebrow. An almost surprised one.

“For now?” Rorke echoed back with a hint of amusement, letting Elias press his knee closer. Letting him test the waters that they both knew he ultimately controlled.

The greying man simply hummed in agreement, gaze flickering back between the rowdy soldiers at the makeshift poker table and the brown eyes that threatened to burn through his own. A silent reminder that neither of them needed. We aren’t alone.

They danced on this line for a minute, wondering who should speak next. If either of them had the misplaced confidence to take the moment and stretch it out even more thin.

“By all means, Eli, if there’s something you need to keep your confidence up…” he was toying with the man now, getting personal. Dangling something in front of him that Elias would never really be granted. And the lieutenant wasn’t sure what to do with that, had he ever been this forward? Despite knowing it was all in vain anyway?

“Don’t start, Gabe” he retorted, lips stretching thin and unamused, the glare in his eyes usually reserved for his misbehaving boys. And the whiskey still swirling in Rorkes blood only enabled his boldness, grinning at Elias’ displeasure.

“Still wound up, ain’t’cha?” He’d grin at his lieutenant again, not so subtly licking over his bottom lip. It made Elias heart stop for a moment, he was sure, if not for the sole fact that this was more brave than Rorke had ever been with him. He felt like a dog being fed scraps, his Captain toying with him whenever he felt like it, yanking his chain just enough to rip it out from under him at the end.

Elias’ nostrils flared. Maybe it was the shitty beer he’d drank, combined with the exhaustion from the mission and the noise of the other seven men playing god knows what with those cards, but his response only stoked a fire within him. An annoyance that was slowly increasing. A need climbing up his spine, threatening to curl around his neck like a noose.

“Wonder why” he kept it short again, similar to the leash he knew Rorke was still tethering him to. It made his fingers curl around his beer can, nail beds turning white as he made eye contact with his Captain again, seeing a look flare in his eyes, his breathing deepen just a bit.

The tense moment was broken as Keegan’s grumbling voice sounded out, announcing he was hitting the sack for the night, much to Kick and Ajax’s displeasure. He gave Rorke a nod, briefly glancing at his Lieutenant sat next to him. Not missing the tension that lingered between the two.

Elias took the moment to agree with the younger man, setting his can down and standing up from the couch.

“Now Keegan I expected, but you too, Lieutenant? Didn’t even play a round!” Kick replied, flashing his charming little grin toward Elias from across the room.

Elias gave him a smile, waving him off as he stretched his arms out, no doubt shaking off said tension that’d started to prickle at his skin like needles. He tossed his beer can and headed toward the door.

“Get some good shut eye, Lieutenant, that’s an order…or I’ll come a knockin” Rorke muttered loud enough for Elias to hear, making the man pause momentarily to look back, eyes locking once more on that shit eating little grin plastered on his Captains face.

He didn’t know what that meant. He wasn’t sure how serious Rorke was being. What that would entail, but he briefly wondered if he should ignore his exhaustion long enough to find out.

Elias eyes met with his, and Rorke saw it again. The flame that drew him back to his Lieutenant time and time again. The fire he wanted to stoke, yet snuff out at the same time.

“Yes, sir”