Simon Riley has a crush (part 2)
Part 1
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The records room was always quiet.
That was one of the reasons you liked it.
Rows of metal shelving lined the walls, each one filled with neatly labeled folders and sealed document boxes. Fluorescent lights hummed softly overhead, and the only real sounds were the rustle of paper and the occasional turning of pages.
You’d been here long enough to memorize where most things were.
Which was exactly why Laswell asking you to grab a specific archived mission report hadn’t seemed like a big deal.
“Top shelf, back row,” she’d said casually over the phone. “Old operation file. Should be labeled Operation Glass Harbor.”
So here you were…
Standing on a small step ladder.
Stretching your arm as far as it would go toward the very back of the highest shelf.
“…almost…” you mutter, reaching..
Your fingers brushed the edge of the box.
You leaned just a little further.
The box tipped.
And then—
A large gloved hand reached up beside you and caught it before it could fall.
You nearly jumped off the ladder.
When you looked down—
You were staring at a skull mask.
Your heart jumped into your throat.
Ghost.
Lieutenant Simon Riley stood there holding the file box like it weighed nothing.
He froze too.
Because this was the first time either of you had been this close.
“…Sorry,” you said quickly, climbing down the ladder a little too fast. “I didn’t see you there.”
Ghost immediately stepped back like he’d just realized he’d accidentally walked into a minefield.
“Was… uh—”
His voice sounded rougher than usual.
“Was lookin’ for Laswell.”
You nodded quickly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. Nervous habit.
“Oh— she’s probably still in the briefing room.”
Silence settled between you.
The kind that wasn’t uncomfortable yet.
Just… unsure.
Ghost was still holding the file box.
He stared at it like it had personally betrayed him.
“…Think this’s yours,” he said, holding it out.
You reached for it.
Your fingers brushed the glove covering his hand.
And both of you paused for half a second.
“Thank you,” you said softly.
He nodded once.
Then neither of you moved.
Which is when the door behind you clicked shut.
Neither of you noticed.
Down the hall—
Soap and Gaz crouched beside the door like two grown men about to rob the cookie jar.
Soap slowly checked the small wedge he’d shoved under the door handle.
Gaz was trying not to laugh.
“You’re a menace,” Gaz whispered.
Soap grinned.
“A romantic menace.”
He twisted the handle slightly from the outside.
Locked.
Perfect.
Inside the records room—
You were flipping open the file after putting the box away, scanning the label just to double check.
Ghost shifted his weight.
And then he heard the door.
Or rather—
He heard the lack of it opening when he reached for the handle.
It didn’t budge.
Ghost tried again.
Still nothing.
“…Door’s locked.”
You looked up.
“Oh.”
You walked over and tried it too.
Still locked.
“…Huh.”
Ghost blinked slowly behind the mask.
That was suspiciously calm.
“Y’not concerned?”
You tilted your head thoughtfully.
“Not really.”
He stared at you.
You gave a small shrug.
“They lock it sometimes if there’s a security sweep.”
Ghost didn’t say anything.
Because he knew exactly who was behind this.
Soap.
You set the file down on the nearby table.
“Well… I guess we wait?”
Ghost leaned against the wall, arms crossed.
The silence returned.
You glanced at him.
He glanced at the floor.
You both spoke at the same time.
“Sorry—”
“Sorry.”
You both stopped.
Then you laughed, soft but genuine.
Ghost froze.
Because he’d heard you laugh before in the hallway.
But never this close.
“…You go first,” you said.
Ghost cleared his throat awkwardly.
“…Just… uh…”
He shifted again.
“…Don’t think we’ve properly met.”
Your smile softened.
“Oh.”
Right.
You held your hand out gently.
“I’m Y/N.”
Ghost stared at your hand for a second like it might explode.
Then he carefully took it.
His glove swallowed your hand completely.
“Simon.”
You blinked.
Your smile got a little brighter.
“Simon.”
He immediately looked away.
Because hearing you say his name felt… weirdly nice.
You sat down at the table beside the open file.
“You work with Captain Price’s team, 141 right?”
He nodded.
“Yeah.”
You leaned forward slightly, resting your chin on your hand.
“That must be intense.”
Ghost shrugged.
“Sometimes.”
You studied him for a moment.
He looked like a walking threat.
Tall. Broad shoulders. Skull mask. Tactical gear.
But the way he was standing—
Awkwardly shifting his weight.
Avoiding eye contact.
—it didn’t match the terrifying reputation at all.
“You’re quieter than the others,” you said gently.
He huffed softly.
“Soap talks enough for the whole team.”
You laughed again.
A comfortable quiet settled in after that.
You flipped through the file lazily.
“…Do you like coffee?” you asked suddenly.
Ghost blinked.
“…Yeah?”
Your smile turned a little shy.
“Oh good.”
You tapped the table lightly.
“I wasn’t sure.”
He frowned slightly.
“Why?”
You hesitated.
Then admitted softly—
“I leave coffee outside your office sometimes.”
Ghost went completely still.
He remembered the others telling him that, but he didn’t entirely believe it was true.
“…That’s you?”
You nodded.
“I thought maybe you were too busy to grab some before briefings. And if you didn’t like coffee.. I was gonna start bringing tea instead...”
Ghost looked genuinely stunned.
“…Been drinkin’ those for months.”
You looked delighted.
“Really?”
He nodded slowly.
“…Best coffee on base.”
You tried not to smile too big at that.
The room grew quiet again.
But this time it wasn’t awkward.
Just warm.
Ghost glanced at you.
You were still flipping through the folder, humming softly to yourself.
Not intimidated.
Not nervous.
Just… comfortable.
With him.
After a moment you looked up.
“…Simon?”
“Yeah.”
You tilted your head.
“Why do you always stop talking when I walk by the briefing room?”
Ghost froze.
Because apparently Soap had been talking.
“…Do I?”
You nodded, amused.
“Every time.”
He stared at the table.
“…Didn’t notice.”
You watched him for a moment.
Then smiled softly.
“Well… I’m glad we got stuck in here then.”
Ghost looked at you again.
“…Yeah?”
You nodded.
“Yeah.”
Outside the door—
Soap pressed his ear to it.
Gaz leaned against the wall beside him.
“…Hear anything?” Gaz whispered.
Soap grinned.
“…Silence.”
Gaz raised an eyebrow.
“Is that good or bad?”
Soap looked extremely pleased with himself.
“Oh, mate.”
He leaned back from the door.
“That’s the sound of two shy people having the most awkwardly adorable conversation of their lives.”
Down the hall—
Price walked past and saw them crouched by the door.
Shook his head.
“…Idiots.”
Laswell didn’t even look up from her tablet as she followed behind him.
“Give them another twenty minutes.”
Back in the records room—
You and Simon were now sitting across from each other.
Talking.
Actually talking.
Neither of you had noticed the time passing.
Neither of you had noticed the door was unlocked 10 minutes ago.
And neither of you were in any rush to leave.
