Chapter Text
“That boy needs an exorcism,” Zeus says. Their table doesn’t have to look around to know who he was talking about. The lot of them were currently having lunch in the mess hall at a covert British army facility. The place was not busy, but that would change as soon as the mission was fully green-lit. It didn’t happen often that collaborations of this size happened and the powers-that-be clearly desired all possible hands on deck.
“I don’t think there are priests brave enough to try,” Horangi replies while shaking his head.
A certain Scot was once again out on his daily dogwalk. Wherever the demolition expert went, The Ghost followed. The broad-shouldered man followed the Sergeant around wherever he went. It was a source of endless entertainment for the KorTac mercenaries.
König looked at the spectacle the two 141 men made of themselves with mirth. There wasn’t much for the hired muscle to do until the actual mission, so the pathetic display was a welcome show to stave off the boredom.
“Ghost is blameless. I’d keep that locked in too. Just look at that ass,” Oni added, ever the pervert. They laughed, König included. Mentally though, the Austrian more than agreed with the observation. Despite the difference in rank between the lieutenant and the sergeant, anyone with eyes could figure out there was something between the two of them.
The KorTac members had such working eyeballs, and the Scot was, to keep things brief and polite, very well-built. In their line of work they knew that getting your muscles to look like that took great discipline. To look the way the sergeant did was a deliberate choice. The notion that the man cared enough about working his glutes like he apparently did, was great material to fantasize about. The lieutenant had his work cut out for him.
“I saw a recruit almost piss himself yesterday. He was ogling Sergeant MacTavish during training instruction and jumped out of his skin when he noticed Ghost had materialized right behind him,” Oni laughed out.
“Why were you at training instruction of all things?” Horangi asked.
“Ah, I was also ogling Sergeant MacTavish,” the man responds shamelessly. They all laugh.
“Anything you want me to pass along to your next of kin when you commit suicide with two bullets through the back of the head?” König shakes his head, but he is clearly as amused as the rest of them. Zeus snorts out a brief laugh.
“There was an issue with Lieutenant, what’s his name, Taylor, yes, Taylor’s schedule earlier this week. Screaming like a child, you could probably hear it even back at the barracks. The man thought he could take out his tantrum on the Sergeant, but that man has his dog properly trained. The moment The Ghost stood in front of him, nose-to-nose, he shut his mouth right quickly,” Zeus said, “Thought I was going to witness a murder right there and then.”
“That’s all nice and good, but I don’t think Lieutenant Riley even lets his Sergeant piss in peace. Not likely that anything would happen to guy,” Horangi adds. They leave it at that and continue with their lunch.
Their gossiping wasn’t anything serious, more a thing to pass the time between them until the moment they were required to join the upcoming mission. If there was ever a moment for KorTac to work together with the 141, it was against Pediga, a white-supremacist terrorist organization active in both the UK and mainland Europe.
König is in his own mind, thinking about the upcoming mission, when his team suddenly raised their heads to look at something behind him. He turned around and saw that the person that had approached was none other than Sergeant MacTavish.
“Colonel Kilgore, Captain Price would like to go over some new intel. He asked me to inform you that he is waiting for us in his office,” the Scot informed them. It wasn’t unusual for König to be asked to join the operational discussions. KorTac’s hierarchy differed from that of the British military, but he had his teammates’ trust. They knew he would inform them later.
“I’m not a colonel anymore,” König replied, but he gets up nonetheless. He briefly nods to his teammates and begins to follow the sergeant out of the mess hall.
As the two of them make their way towards the 141 Captain’s office, König notices a suspicious lack of paranormal activity around the Sergeant. Perhaps the lieutenant was already waiting for the two of them. Regardless of the reason, it provided the Austrian with plenty of time to properly admire the Sergeant without risking public execution.
The smaller man walked with an air of confidence. Not that the Scot was small , but any man that stood next to König always seemed to shrink when they had to meet his gaze. Not the Sergeant in front of him. No, this man was interesting. His friendly and intelligent disposition made him seem even bigger than he was. Like the very space around him was accommodating for his large personality.
The muscles of his arms were covered in just the slightest hint of fat, in between a bulk and a cut. Yet, and König really couldn’t judge Oni, his thighs seemed to be properly filling out his pants. It was clear that the Scot didn’t skip leg day and took proper care of himself. König wouldn’t mind taking care of the man either.
“The captain hasn’t told me much about the new intel yet,” the Scot suddenly says. The words disrupt König’s train of thought and it takes him a bit before he responds.
“I’m sure, if it is important, we will hear about it in a bit.” While it is true that König is no longer a Colonel, no such thing in a mercenary group like theirs, he remembered all too well that not all information would be provided to Sergeants. Only whatever was necessary to complete the mission. He wasn’t sure how Captain Price went about things, but he didn’t doubt that the man would let the Sergeant know critical information for his job when the time was right.
“That’s a sure thing,” the Scot responds, lightly scratching his neck. A habit König hadn’t paid any particular attention to before this. However, something caught his eye this time.
Looking back, the Austrian isn’t sure what possessed him to reach out to the other man’s turtleneck, but before his mind caught up with his body the damage was already done.
Pulling down the fabric around the Sergeant’s neck revealed a purple and yellow mess of bruising. One large bruise in particular standing out, one unmistakably shaped like a large hand.
For a second, the Austrian and the Scot looked at each other in surprise. Then, the Sergeant’s face turned red and he stepped back from König, creating space between them. König had the feeling that the space wasn’t just physical, the Sergeant looked quite distressed.
He wasn’t sure what to say. The bruises looked bad.
He was not unfamiliar with bruising, having had his fair share of medical stints in the past, these looked intentional. They didn’t look cared after, almost like they were purposefully neglected so they would look worse.
The two of them had come to a complete stop in the hallway, not far from the Captain’s office. They both remained silent, just looking at the other. König wondered if the Sergeant would try to explain his injury to him, but looking at the man’s red face and clenched jaw he lost that notion quite quickly.
The silence felt damning, but before the Austrian could properly think about his next course of action, someone coughed and he and the Sergeant looked towards the sound in unison. It was Lieutenant Riley.
König could see the man’s eyes harden as he looked between the Sergeant and the KorTac member, clearly not liking something he was seeing.
“MacTavish,” it was like the man was tasting the words and not liking the taste of them, ”we’ll talk about this later. Captain Price and Sergeant Garrick are waiting.”
A few tense seconds pass before König begins walking first. When he passes The Ghost he gets the feeling like he should be watching his six very closely. The other man’s eyes burn in the back of his skull as he enters the Captain’s office.
König can’t help but take note of the way the Lieutenant passes right behind the Sergeant and briefly rests a hand around the other man’s neck before sitting down.
He mentally decides to pay a bit more attention to what is really going on between the dog and his handler going forward. For now, however, the mission must receive priority.