"Oi! Sir, over here" called Buffer rather loudly. The young man waved his hands from side to side in the air, his white board shorts hanging loosely around his waist as he shoved ET out of the way with his shoulder. His large hands closed around the footy expertly before his feet took off, sprinting across the sand towards the try line.
Mike watched with a small grin of pride as his team crossed the line for the fourth time that half. They were smashing Spicy Donga's team with no hope of recovery.
Swain blew the whistle hanging limply around his neck to signal half time as the teams began to disperse to their captains. Mike, watching with amusement as Curry tried to gee up his crew, could only grin at his own before telling them to keep playing hard.
"Go have a drink" he yelled as the men laughed between each other. Mike managed not to notice to obviously the look ET gave NAV as she smiled at joke Swain was busy telling the two.
"Young love" he thought wistfully before searching out his water bottle. He walked towards the camp the crew had set up on the beach, grinning at Charge as he busily prepared the barbeque for the end of the game.
"Over there" said Charge, pointing towards Mike's towel and bottle with his spatula.
The captain nodded in thanks before glancing at the bottle to ensure it was his own. Months had past since his run in with Rick Gallagher but he still felt a pang of nervousness when around bottles of water.
He twisted the lid off and took a long sip, turning towards the crew to watch them reassemble on the make shift field.
"Sir, you coming" called Buffer, holding a hand up in question.
"Yeah" called Mike in return, returning the gesture and wiping away the dribble of water that had escaped down his chin.
He ran back onto the field slowly, savouring the shade of the tent before bursting back into the sweltering summer sunlight.
"Right everyone" called Swain. He held the whistle in one hand and his own bottle in the other. The football flew through the air once more as play resumed, Buffer and ET managing to take on two of the Kingston's larger crew mates before grabbing the footy for themselves.
Mike, keeping one eye on Spicy Donga himself, cast a glance over towards the rest of his crew seated happily under shade cloth. One person in particular who had not been there previously caught his attention and he stopped mid jog to get a better look.
Kate smiled shyly back, stopping mid sentence and catching his eye, before turning back to her conversation.
Mike, felling as though the breath had been knocked from him, stared wonderingly after her, failing to not notice the lack of grey she was wearing. For a moment his eyes glazed over the white pants and bright sleeveless shirt she was wearing before his attention was drawn to the large floppy straw hat, covering the majority of her head and dangling in front of her eyes.
Mike grabbed the material of his pants to stop his legs from moving over towards her, the desire to brush the hat out of her eyes and stare into the green that lay there threatening to over power six years worth of ignorance.
"Burying your head in the sand" a snide voice remarked in the depths of his mind.
"You've been doing that a lot recently Mikey"
He drew a depth breathe as Kate looked back towards him, looking briefly startled as she realised the CO was still watching her. The man in question glanced down quickly, making a show of not watching her before slowly picking his gaze up again once she had turned once more.
"Oi!" he heard, vaguely noticing the game commencing behind him.
"Sir!" he heard once more.
Suddenly the ball barrelled into his back and his was met with a face full of sand as the combined crews of the Kingston and Hammersley crashed on top of him.
As he contemplated the irony of literally burying his head in the sand his ears picked up the distinct laugh of a certain blonde haired XO and despite the weight pressing down on him and the pain shooting up his back; he grinned.