Just some stupid one-shots I just had to take off my mind.

Disclaimer: I don't own them!

Roach passed by the bulletin board, holding up his laundry and headed for the laundry room. A white piece of paper catches his attention, and immediately, he moves forward and reads it.

WHAT THE MEN OF TF 141 AREN'T ALLOWED TO DO

Funny, I thought they briefed us with that already, he thought, shifting his weight so that he could read more. But that was the thing. There weren't anything else written, and nothing else to read. Dismissing it as some practical joke, Roach walks off.

"Morning bug." Ghost greets the young sergeant with a nod of the head. Since the creepy grinning balaclava was still on his head, Roach couldn't see if he were smiling or not. He marks the page by folding a paper and tucking the pocket book in his pants.

"Morning Roach." MacTavish says, closing the door to the washing machine and turning to face the room. "Laundry day too?"

"Morning." Roach meekly replies, probably anxious if he'd screw up again, since his commanding officers were all in one room with him. Even though they're out of the field or training center and both wore casual outfits, Roach still didn't feel comfortable. Besides, they were like teachers to him. And everyone knows teachers have a life behind their line of work; everyone's just scared to prove it. "And yeah, guess I probably could survive better with laundry today."

"The others are on to something again?" Ghost asks, crossing his arms across his chest. "Hope it doesn't involve me."

Roach winces, remembering when Meat decided to prank him by shoving a raccoon inside Ghost's room. Let's just say that night, Meat held a screaming contest with the same scared rodent. "I think it was something about taping Worm to the wall."

"Aye, the lad's still getting over their hang over. Better stop them now." MacTavish says. He looks at Ghost for support, but both just laughed it off.

Roach awkwardly sets his luggage down to an empty machine, and working hard to wrestle the clothes into the small opening. The machine gave one loud groan, and he manages to push everything inside. Finishing his work with adding soap and detergent, half not knowing how to do these things, he closes the door and finding his superiors still there.

"Soo.." Roach asks, hoping up the machine and banging his heels to the metal that it sounded like a rhythmic beat. Trying to find a topic, his eyes land on Ghost, who started to read his book again. "Sir, isn't it hard to work with a balaclava on your face? Don't you take it off?"

"No Roach, I'm not taking it off anytime soon." Ghost says, getting defensive.

"When you're eating?"

"Roll it up to my mouth."

"How about when you sleep?"

"I've got a few spares."

"So wait, if you don't take it off, and we practically have no laundry days so much," Roach asks, Ghost arches an invisible eyebrow and MacTavish watches with an amuse grin. "then..how can you stand the smell?"

"I've got several spares bug. Not removing it doesn't mean I don't change. It's like knickers."

"Eew, but you wear those-"

"Just leave it be twat." Ghost sighs. A soft silence dawns the group, and he was grateful.

"Not even in the showers?"

MacTavish chokes and coughs out. "I'm not going into that subject lad, if you know what's good for you."

Roach felt a curious eyebrow arch on his face. "What? Why?"

"The last sergeant that asked about that.." MacTavish trails off.

"What? What last sergeant?"

"Exactly."

Ghost chuckles at the exchange. And there was clear anxiety- or is it fear- in the youngster's eyes as he glanced at the sergeant. At a moment, he stops banging his heels in the metal, and only the whirling of clothes filled the air. Ghost smirks to himself, not bringing the book off his eyes, knowing MacTavish got him covered. When he thought that no one could say anything, Roach speaks up.

"So, you ever tried innocent shopping with Ghost sir?"

That afternoon, Roach was tired, even though it was supposed to be their day off duty. For him, it felt as if 50 jogs around the field would've been better than having Ghost track you around for the whole day. Body aching, he made his way to the barracks, flinching every time a strange noise sounded off in the distance.

After landing a day in the infirmary with a hung over Archer and Toad, getting the honorable chance to take Worm- not a worm-worm, but THE Worm- off the wall and helping a bruised Meat off the tree, Roach felt like everything about this camp was surreal. Sure they were beaten and battles harden soldiers, but it seemed like acting like 4 year olds were just on everyone's agenda. Everyday. Every, freaking, day.

He walks by the same bulletin board he walked by this morning, and with a pen and a scratchy writing, he writes a simple sentence.

You just don't ask about Ghost mask.