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It's one of those mornings when Ray's just glad to be fucking alive in the sandbox that is Iraq. He's still rubbing grit out of all the wrinkles of his uniform and wishing he wasn't stuck in a hot tin can with Trombley's fucking commentary in his ear, but it's better than the alternative. They're far enough away from the last AO, tucked next to a few scraggly palm trees and large rock formations, that the acrid smell of arty isn't hanging in the air.
He'd tumbled out of the humvee this morning with Walt's familiar humming in his ears. Quick trip to the nearest latrine before he raided the morning rations. Brad better be fucking grateful he'd grabbed some of his favorite breakfast MREs. They all should be. He'd smacked two of them into each camo covered chest before settling sideways into the seat of the humvee, door half propped open on his legs, then tears into his MRE ration.
"Ray, why can't you fucking eat like a normal person," Brad drawls at him on his way past and toward wherever the hell he spends most of his time away from the humvee. Likely the command truck getting debriefs and all that jazz, but whatever. It leaves Ray to enjoy his meal in peace.
Another bite had smeared the melted whatever pieces across his face and maybe Brad had a point but he wasn't fucking telling him that. He still has the remnants of the breakfast MRE smeared across his face when the LT strides through. "Morning, LT," he says like he does nearly every day.
Instead of the usual quick smile and nod he's come to expect, all he gets is a tight grimace before the LT sweeps by with Gunny Wynn strung along in his wake like an overprotective barracuda. It makes Ray sit up straight and his gaze follows the LT and Gunny until they disappear behind more humvees.
Something's up and Ray's going to get to the bottom of it.
He takes the last bites of the MRE then drags his hand across his mouth before hopping down and checking in with Trombley and Walt, who're sitting behind one of the wheels. Reporter seems to have fucked off for the moment. Maybe another case of the shits. Trombley's arguing about the dogs again and whether it's in the ROE to shoot them. He tells them to hold down the fort until Brad gets back.
Then he pulls his helmet on, tightening the strap under his chin, M6 snug against his side, before he heads off in the direction the LT went. He doesn't have to go far. LT tends to retreat back into his own space and for good reason as Gunny steps out to intercept him. Other reasons being something something command and all its bullshit and preventing it from rolling downhill.
Ray doesn't buy that bullshit. Gotta make sure their baby faced LT makes it out of the sandbox as intact as possible. He's been one of the few good ones and they can't have him breaking under their watch, Ray's watch especially. He's not just the best RTO in the platoon. Brad wouldn't keep him around just for that.
Gunny stares him down with that stone weathered implacable face, hand braced on the butt of his M6. Proper as always. "Now's not a good time, Person."
When is there ever a good time? Ray makes his face play nice and smiles through his best "who me" expression and bites back the quip on his tongue, instead saying, "Not sure what you're talking about, sir. Just wanted to check in with the LT."
Gunny's gaze narrows and Ray desperately wishes he had his Ray-Bans on right now. Not that they'd help his case. "Cut it out. LT doesn't need anything else going on. He's caught enough heat from the brass."
The casual slowness of Gunny's drawl hides the undercurrent of tension threaded through his words. Ray's pokerface is probably up there but even he can't stop his eyebrows from ticking up a hair. Their LT? Who the fuck stirred up shit? Though Ray has a pretty good idea.
There's the beginnings of a scowl drawing together on Gunny's face. "Don't make me make it an order, Corporal."
He nods at Gunny and says, "Sir, yes, sir," then makes himself scarce by strolling his way toward Rudy and Pappy's humvee. And this time he does pull out his Ray-Bans and catcalls a greeting to Rudy.
Gunny's tied up with both Poke and Rudy bending his ear. Some hot debate about an issue that had sparked up during their trek to their new camp for the night. Everyone else was digging in and settling in for the night next to the river berm.
Perfect time for Ray to find the LT as he spots Stafford and Christenson trying to steal some chow from Pappy, who's fending them off half heartedly. Man always found a way to doctor up the slop they were served to make it taste halfway decent.
He takes a circuitous route to the LT, wary of Gunny keeping an eye out for just this. He rounds the back of the humvee and sees LT planted in the passenger seat, thousand yard stare into the setting blaze of the sun over the sand. If Ray hadn't been looking, he might've missed him there as still as he was.
He deliberately makes his step heavy. Startling a recon Marine was not a death wish he had. He leans against the frame behind the passenger door as LT shifts, door opening enough to provide escape if needed, and looks at him. Ray can't read more than exhaustion and wariness in his eyes even though there’s flitters of other things.
"Person, something I can help you with?" LT says tiredly.
They're all exhausted even Ray who had the support of his Ripped Fuel, but this was different from that.
"No, sir, just haven't seen you around much."
The corner of LT's mouth curls into the smallest hint of a smile. "I've been told things are well in hand in your victor."
"You've been talking to Sergeant Colbert, sir?" At LT's nod, Ray continues. "Well, I have it on good authority that Sergeant Colbert doesn't know shit." A pause. "...Sir."
The LT and Brad orbited around each other more than should be healthy. Should just be Gunny attached to LT's hip like that. Not that Ray could blame Brad and it was the same reason why Ray's standing here now.
The smile that had been threatening now breaks through and it erases the heaviness that had been draped over LT like a second skin. Ray bites back the hiss of celebration. "Is that so? Not the smooth operator the Iceman's reputation would have everyone believe, huh?"
Ray grins. He has LT right where he wants him. Give him an inch, he'll take a mile. He doesn't miss that LT doesn't call him on the breach of protocol. "Nope, not at all, sir. You saying you didn't do your due diligence before joining us, sir?" Ray gasps in mock shock and disappointment, hand pressed to his chest like one of those old pearl clutching grannies he grew up with.
LT fucking laughs at him and Ray couldn't be more delighted. Score! Brad's not the only LT whisperer out there. Ray here is now a certified LT whisperer. The proof is in the light dancing in LT's eyes and shit, he's not going to be able to prove this to Brad at all.
"I'll have you know, Person, that my recon on this unit was impeccable. And nothing you can tell me can shock me about anyone in this unit."
"Glad to know they didn't send us a paperpusher to take us into the sandbox, sir." Ray's grin turns sly and lascivious as he leans in closer to drop his voice. "Then you know what's been said about you among the rest of us miscreants."
LT's features smooth out and go blandly opaque as he responds mildly, "What I hear and what is said directly to my face are two very different things. One I have to take action about while the other I can ignore. I would suggest you tread very lightly here, Person."
"Aww, sir, but where's the fun in that?" Ray waggles his eyebrows and another point scored as the LT visibly fights back laughter. "Do you want me to tell you what some of those things are? Sir."
"Is this why Sergarent Colbert keeps you on such a short leash, Corporal?"
Ray shrugs. LT's picking up everything he's putting down and Ray's going to run with it as far as he can. "I wouldn't say that's the full picture, sir. Maybe you should find out for yourself."
The blue-green of LT's eyes laser onto him then give him the once over from head to toe. With clear, obvious intent. There's not much that distinguishes them from each other out here in the uniform MOPP suits but Ray still feels a frisson of tension go up his spine. That's intel he didn't have before. "I'll keep that in mind, Corporal."
LT seems content to leave it at that while Ray's mind spins wildly like tires hitting an invisible patch of black ice. The last thing he's going to be able to find out here. Before he can get his Ripped Fuel addled senses to come up with a response, Gunny's voice sounds from the back of the humvee. "Nate, you here?"
"Yeah, Mike, I'm here."
The flare that goes through Ray at the use of first names is one he can't put a finger on and his mouth's running before he can stop it. "Looks like my job is done here, sir. I'll be going now."
LT's eyebrow arches in bemusement. "Thanks for stopping by, Person. It's been enlightening as always.”
He nods and steps back from LT, skirting around Gunny and his glower before hightailing it back to Bravo 1.
Brad's back, leaned up against the front left tire, long legs stretched out in front of him like the largest damn trip hazard, from wherever he'd disappeared to after they'd rolled to a stop. Trust the asshole to notice Ray's still off kilter. "What trouble you'd get into now, you backwood sibling fucking ingrate?"
He throws up two birds and puts a deliberate exaggerated swagger into his walk as he steps over Brad's fucking legs. "You get done jerking off to the latest sat comm printout?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
Ray flops down next to Brad who wordlessly hands him a can of contraband. Peaches pilfered from some sucker's stash elsewhere in the company. More than likely bartered for something but Ray's not asking questions. He has too much going on in his head as it is. Shit he's going to keep to himself for now. Cause you know, maybe he read it wrong. Got it all wrong, but something in his gut tells him otherwise. Ray's still a recon marine under it all.