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“ We have to be quiet,” Lt Fick breathed against Sgt Colbert’s lips. The smaller blonde had his Team Leader pressed against the side of the Command truck. Their position was hidden in shadow but they were still in the open. They were taking a huge risk by doing this but after all the stress and tension they had to do something or risk snapping.
“Good luck with that… Sir,” Colbert replied, a smirk on his face that his Lieutenant kissed away. Not that Colbert was complaining, rather-
“Hey, Rolling Stone!” Brad snapped, drawing the man’s attention. Reporter looked up from what he’d been writing in his notebook. It took him a moment to realize where he was, in the backseat of the Humvee bumping over uneven terrain somewhere in the Iraqi desert. “Ya with us?”
“Yeah… yeah sorry. What’d you say?”
“What the fuck homes?” Ray bitched from the driver’s seat. “You totally zoned out on us. I was talking about pussy and you went to La-La Land.”
“Just taking notes,” he answered, closing the book. “Guess I got absorbed in it. Sorry.”
Brad lowered one brow while raising the other, his neck craned to look back at him. Clearly he didn’t buy it and it seemed neither was Ray but at least the latter blew it off and started to yammer away once more.
Reporter’s lips quirked up, shaking his head. Thank goodness for Ripped Fuel.
* * *
No one liked it when Walt looked like a kicked puppy, least of all Brad. So when Brad opened his eyes, looking up from his grave to find Walt gazing down at him sadly, Brad just sighed deeply before scooting over and beckoning the younger Marine to join him.
Walt smiled then, slipping in beside Brad and snuggling up against him. “Stop being broody,” Walt mentioned. “The guys need the Iceman and I need my Teddy Bear.”
Brad snorted. “Call me that again and-”
Reporter’s hand jerked, pen flying across the page as his arm was smacked rather roughly. “Yo dawg,” Poke greeted, settling in the dirt next to him by Colbert’s Humvee. “Whatcha workin’ on?” He was ripping into his rations with his teeth, gazing at Reporter curiously.
“Just some stuff about that bombing last night,” Reporter brushed off, speaking of all the ordnance dropped on what an Alpha team claimed was an Iraqi armored division when in fact it was the lights from the nearby town matrixing.
“Yeah, what a clusterfuck,” Poke agreed, none the wiser as Reporter flipped to a new page.
* * *
Pappy and Rudy were basically the den mothers of Bravo. And Rudy was the master of mothering, especially Pappy. “Geez Pap,” Rudy chastised gently, “what’ve I told you about being sure to wear sunscreen on your face? Look at your cheeks.” There was a definite reddening to Pappy’s face that looked partly caused by sun but also the whipping sand from the recent shamal. “Come on,” he prodded Pappy. “I’ve got some aloe in the truck.”
* * *
Everyone was sick and only one Corpsman in all of Bravo Company. The medic that traveled with Godfather was of some help but he had to assist the other companies as well. As such, most of the burden fell to Doc Bryan. As Reporter observed the man working, attempting to ease the discomfort of the Marines under his care, he saw Kocher approach.
The Sergeant's arm was wrapped around his middle, face twisted up in pain. “Doc… Think I’m in trouble here,” he murmured.
“Oh not you too.” Doc sighed, however it was clearly not in anger, simply frustration. He reached up and felt Kocher’s forehead with the inside of his wrist. “I’ll take care of you,” the Corpsman assured, prodding Kocher into having a seat on a nearby crate. “We’ll get ya right again Marine.”
Reporter’s lips quirked into a smile and as he turned to walk away he was already pulling out his notebook.
* * *
Christeson cursed as he banged his head against the side of the truck. “Shh,” Stafford hissed, peering out through the gap in the canvas that covered the opening in the back to be sure no one had heard them. “Gotta make this quick.”
As he turned back to face Christeson he was shocked when the young Private jumped him, slamming him to the floor of the Command truck, lips colliding in a desperate, wanting kiss.
“What are you up to Reporter?” Jumping, his notebook was tossed from his hands. Eyes wide, Reporter turned to find Ray right behind him, bending at the waist to speak in his ear.
“How long have you been there?”
“Long enough,” Ray replied rather matter of factly, plopping next to him and snatching the splayed notebook. When Reporter made a grab for it, Ray swatted him away. “Ya fuckin’ threw the thing before I could read the rest,” he griped. “Sheesh, share the porn for fuck’s sake.”
Reporter was gaping at him, watching as Ray apparently caught up on the little story he’d been writing. “Are you for real right now?” he asked incredulously.
Ignoring the question, Ray was nodding his head as he said, “Not bad…” He started flipping through the book, on hunt for more apparently. “Anything more dirty? Ooo, Walt and Nate? Not bad… I’m more of a fan of Brad with the LT though. I mean, come on, have you seen them eye-fuck? It’s the stuff of legends.”
“I, uh-”
“No shit? The LT and Gunny?” Ray leaned back against the Humvee. “Never thought of that before… Guess there’s something to that.”
“Umm… Ray…”
“Shh, I’m reading.” He made a “go away” fluttering motion with his hand, apparently reading what Reporter had penned in regards to that particular pair. “Damn… that Command Victor sure does see a lot of cum. Maybe we should blacklight it?”
By then Reporter had turned beat red, putting his hand over his mouth. He felt like sinking straight into the sand. “I think I’m gonna go walk into the desert and die now,” he muttered, the alternative being beaten up by a ton of pissed off Marines.
Still, Ray didn’t seem to have any clue. “Yo, do you take requests?”
“Excuse me?” Reporter looked over at him in disbelief.
“Like for pairs and shit?” Ray waved the notebook pointedly. “Like how could you not have more with Fruity Rudy? That shit with Pap was all fluff for fuck’s sake. What about Lilley? Shit the kid wants to shoot a gay porny now ever since Poke mentioned it. If that don’t say smut worthy I dunno what does.”
Reporter could not believe his ears. What’s more was that Ray appeared completely serious. “Umm, yeah, sure…” Ray looked over at him then, seemingly really paying attention for the first time. “I’ll, uh, see what I can do?”
“Awesome homes.” Ray grinned brightly, passing over the notebook. “Whelp, I gotta go find Brad. Probably up the LT’s ass.” He stood and dusted himself off, cackling when he realized what he’d just said. “I crack myself up.”
Reporter leaned back against the tire of the Humvee in complete shock after Ray left, looking up at the sky. “Did that seriously just happen?” he asked the thin air.
It was then Walt’s form came into view, looking down over the edge of the Humvee from where he sat up by the Mark 19. “You got anything with Budweiser?” he inquired, Reporter unable to do anything but laugh humorlessly and shake his head.
“Unbelievable.” When he looked down to the notebook in his lap, his lips twitched into a smile. “Lilley and Rudy, huh?”
Mulling it over, Reporter nodded- he could see it. He picked up his pen, opening up to a fresh page.
/End