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Grinch found his heart was pounding harder than his bare ffeet as he tore down the stairs. For a moment, he almost lost his balance at the bottom, but his rough hands gripped the bannister and he swung into the downstairs hallway. Blue eyes alight with panic, he hurried as quietly as he could to the kitchen just a door down. Truck was already sitting there, munching on toast, and seemed momentarily staggered by the physical disarray of his teammate.
“Did I make it?” Grinch asked, drawl roughened by thirst. Truck looked up at the kitschy clock in the shape of a cat, the plastic feline grinning its shit-eating grin just to Grinch’s left.
“Made it with two minutes to spare.” the larger man answered. Grinch let out a sigh of relief, running his hands through his dark hair. The only effect it had was mussing his hair up further, but none of that mattered. The fact he still had a blanket slung over his shoulder meant nothing, nor did the cold sweat that stuck his pajamas to his body.
He had made it. His near heart attack was far preferable to the fate he had avoided.
“Where’s Snowflake?”
Truck froze as he reached for an apple. Grinch clicked his tongue.
“Called it.” he said, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“Are you ever going to stop wishing harm on the kid?” Truck asked, a kind of wearinessaging him well past his thirties. Grinch shrugged his shoulders, still smiling lazily.
“Don’t mean him harm. I just think it’s funny when he gets his ass handed to him.”
He made his way to the small buffet that was laid across the table. If there was one thing he loved about going home with Sandman, it was that the food was always plentiful. The man was never going to let his team go hungry. Grinch couldn’t say he minded in the slightest, and started piling a plate high with bacon. Just as he moved to pour some orange juice, he heard the rough staccato of his CO’s voice.
“Frost make it down?”
Truck kept his silence, still trying to protect the kid he considered a brother. Puffing out his chest, Grinch turned with childish glee, summing up his CO. It figured the master sergeant was already up and dressed, even if he was just in jeans and a faded t-shirt. Man loved being prepared almost as much as he loved women half his age.
“He was still snorin’ when I was up there, Boss.”
Frost’s loss, his gain. The older man sighed, walking down the hall with Grinch hot on his heels, plate in hand. Quietly munching on his bacon, he stood at the foot of the stairs as Sandman ascended. He could hear the first sparks of fireworks, and his smile began to hurt, lips stretched far too wide.
“Mornin’, Frost.”
Frawst. Grinch was never going to get tired of the sound of it on Sandman’s tongue. When it was said in times like these, it was so much better.
The only answer was a soft mutter, almost whispered from the distance between them.
“Did you sleep well, son?”
Now the old man was just laying it on thick. Grinch’s toes curled in glee.
“Yeah, Dad.”
That croak was audible. Grinch shoved a pancake in his mouth to stifle his own laugh. The kid had no idea what was coming. He still had all the trust in the world in the man he looked up to, the one considered a father.
“Ok, you just keep sleeping.”
He knew Frost would be all too happy to oblige. 7 am meant nothing to him. He thought his time was his own.
Whenever you were around Sandman, Grinch knew, it was on his timetable.
He heard the bed creak as it was relieved of Frost’s weight, though it couldn’t have been much. The youngest member of the team was pretty delicate, to be Delta. Next was the soft footfalls of Sandman’s boots across the wood floor, before they started echoing on the stairs. The whole house was so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
Probably the whole reason Sandman had bought the place, now that he thought about it. Soon, the broad man entered Grinch’s line of sight again, a smaller form nuzzled against his chest. Sandman’s broad arms were wrapped around Frost, and all Grinch could see of his teammate was stark white skin and a shock of white hair. The boy was down to just his pajama pants and one sock.
His clothes wouldn’t protect him.
Sandman looked back at Grinch, jerking his head towards the door in a silent order. Grinch obliged, and it was all he could do not to click his heels together. He flung the door open, allowing in a soft autumn chill, and one of Frost’s pale hands tightened around Sandman’s shoulder. He curled unhappily against his CO, and Grinch could almost swear the kid whimpered. Sandman shushed him like a baby, and that was that.
Grinch watched Sandman’s form retreat, heard the soft crunch of his boots across leaves and gravel. He knew where this was going to end, even if Frost himself did not. The Oklahoma native’s eyes were drawn to the pier that led from Sandman’s lawn down to the infinitely blue lake that stretched as far as the eye could see, flanked on either side by deep woods. The view was beautiful, no doubt. His boss had really lucked out when he bought this place, back when the dinosaurs roamed.
The water looked pretty as a picture, but the reality would prove more of a nightmare.
Sandman finally reached the near-middle of the pier, and though Grinch could not see the specifics, he heard it all the same. There was a sudden splash, and a shriek as the water of the shallows enveloped the Detroit boy. He heard the strong ’thud-thud-thud’ of Sandman’s retreat, and had to move quickly so as not to be run over by the returning soldier.
Frost would be out for blood. They all knew that. Still, Sandman’s grin was boyish on his worn face, and it made Grinch happy to see it.
Grinch turned and watched as Frost pulled himself out of the water, shaking, and started for the house. Once his unfocused eyes managed to make out who was at the door, it was chaos.
Frost started running for the house, so fast that Grinch was taken by surprise. The older man slammed the door shut, barely being able to lock it before Frost ran into it.
Literally.
Grinch started howling at the sound of the half-drowned wonderboy skidding helplessly across the porch just before colliding with the wood. The pale boy started pounding at the door, crying for ‘Fatass’ to unlock it and let him in. He got no answer but a fresh peel of ugly laughter, one eventually muffled by Grinch’s last bite of breakfast.
The taste of breakfast food, combined with Frost’s pitiful, futile screaming, was downright orgasmic. Hell, it was better than sex. The only thing that could kill his good mood was the man that reappeared in front of him. Thankfully, Sandman didn’t seem to be interested in ruining his high.
“Ask him if he’s going to stop being lazy now.”
Clearing his throat, Grinch sat up a little.
“Boss wants to know if you’re going to start being a productive member of society again.”
Silence came from the other side of the door.
“What time is it?” came the muffled reply. Grinch went to start cackling again, but Sandman shook his head.
“What time do we get up in this house, Frost?”
Frawst.
“Seven.”
Sandman reached forward and unlocked the door. Understanding blossomed in Grinch’s baby blues. Sandman opens his mouth to say something, but Frost threw the door open, sending Grinch sliding across the polished floors.
Icy blue eyes lock onto his helpless form.
“Fatass.”
Grinch could see the slightly blue tinge to Frost’s already pallid skin, the shiver to his slight frame, but most of all, he saw the murder in eyes that were somehow colder than the boys body temperature. His voice did not sound human. Grinch suddenly realized what the fear of the unknown was all about, because he surely did not recognize the man in front of him.
Before his life could start flashing in front of his eyes, a thick blanket was tossed around Frost’s shaking shoulders. Truck’s broad hands rubbed at Frost’s soft shoulders, urging them to warm up. “C'mon, let’s get you a hot shower.” Truck murmured, voice soft enough to be considered motherly. As if a spell had been broken, Frost relaxed, leaning into Truck’s touch. Compliant, he allowed himself to be led back towards the downstairs bathroom without a word.
As Grinch’s heart rate slowly returned to normal, he picked himself up off of the floor, eyes finding Sandman. The old man looked totally nonplussed.
“That sibling rivalry is going to kill one of you.”
Nervously smiling, Grinch shook his head. “Not before I get a second plate of breakfast.”
Sandman shook his head, waving his squad mate off. Satisfied that he was released, Grinch bounded for the kitchen like an over-exuberant puppy, piling his plate full of breakfast food once more. Nothing like pancakes to remind you why life was worth living.
He was so high on his gluttony that he couldn’t even register the dripping wet kid that stood behind him.
“Tomorrow, it’ll be you.”
Frost said the words sourly, refusing to drop the matter. Grinch smiled childishly at Frost, taking an exaggerated bite of bacon. He didn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it.
Not until 7:02 the following morning, when Sandman gracelessly tossed the dark haired sergeant into the drink.