so we fucking dance
2/1/16 00:38![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
scubatankfilledwithfartsHe reasons that the perks of being the deputy chief versus the captain outweigh annoying bullshit. The captain has to deal with all of them, first of all-- rowdy and obnoxious, boxing dogs with ears torn off and eyes blinded by cataracts. But there's the planning and the clients and more planning and equipment checks and-- it's a hell of a lot. So no, he doesn't envy it.
He does envy the opportunities to wake up without some other man's elbow in your asscrack, and another snoring piece of shit at your back. Sharing a three and a half star hotel room with three other men is not what he's about in this life. Neither is being errand boy at four am. But, duty calls and he's a little hungry and knows Archer took the last of the lasagna he'd stored in the mini fridge.
So, pulling on sweats and shoes, he darts off into the night to answer the call of duty: specifically that of his captain in a rough, desperate voice while trying not to sound desperate at all. That's what really got him and kept him from hanging up.
[there was no drunken slur of invitation to hang out, not that gruff, yet wry offer of a new job, this was not Business]
About twenty minutes later he shows up at the captain's door, with bags dangling from his fingers and an itch that starts at the base of his ankle. One foot raises to scratch at the other when the door screeches open, and when both war torn men are certain the owner of the inn doesn't come out of hell early this evening, Pip sticks his head out.
The first clue as to how serious the situation is the fact that Pip is still in his uniform. It isn't a matter of the other man sleeping in the outfit-- they all had, and some still do, at any given point. No, it's the fact that they have been out of a job for three days and Pip isn't in his boxers. Clothes rumpled and slept in, single green eye wide and bloodshot, Leroy knows there's something more decisive than--
"I've got the stuff for your stray kitty-- some litter, cause if its young their shit stinks, enough to curdle your other eyeball. There's food, of course, and I got a couple toys and-- why the hell are you looking at me like that, boss," he deadpans upon finally meeting the gaze of his captain.
The other man belts out a giggle, a hysterical note to the sound, to the point where he has to use the doorframe to support himself. Since there's no accompanying meow, Leroy is at a loss.
[for one brief moment he's worried this is one of the moments their captain was charitable and drunk enough to invite him in for a session with his 'kitty'; the horror mounts until the blood runs cold from his face]
[he is not ready for this level up in their friendship]
"That ain't it, man. Usually I'm glad you've got a one dick mind, but not this time. C'mon," jerking a thumb, he pulls the door open for the other man to follow him in, and leads him into the teeny room.
The tuft of bright red hair-- fur? which peeks out from Pip's starch white questionably clean blanket comes as a surprise because the man wouldn't share a bed with a hooker, despite how charming he pretends to be. He's a stingy fuck.
When the lump, decidedly bigger than a cat or dog, shifts and one gangly freckled arm drops over the edge of the bed, Leroy takes one look at Pip and shakes his head. In a stage whisper, he lays into the other man,
"What the fuck!? We trusted you, you ass! We promised each other we'd watch our backs, on the battlefield and our asses! We don't mess with each other's business but kiddy porn!? That's going too far--"
Hands held in surrender, in outrage and annoyance all at once, Pip scowls.
"What the fuck do you think of me, aaahh? That I'm some sick fuck who lays into kids? Get a hold of yourself, man!" He even grabs Leroy by the collar and shakes him a little.
[his fingers shake in the threads of Leroy's uniform, he can feel it beneath the skin and fabric]
"Now shut up, you're gonna wake him up." As if his own staged whisper is any more silent, any more covert. You'd think they were trained professionals or something. There's a moment in which this befuddled deputy chief thinks Pip is almost....fatherly.
In which case he grabs Pip by the collar now and shakes him: "Is this one of your little ginger snaps?! I knew you went off and had fun with the other boys, but this is unacceptable! I told you to always glove it up!" His teeth are clenched, despite how much spit seems to fly from his lips, unbidden. Even his eyes are crazy, he knows.
A rough hand slaps his grip aside, those same hands flick a few stray hairs behind one shitty dirty ear as Pip wonders what to say. And it had better be good.
"I'll tell ya the story later, just know that it ain't like that. Any of that-- are you watching Fred's soaps? Of all the shitty habits..." he mutters to himself, head shaking.
Somehow, somehow they settle the furthest away from the kid as they can manage without disturbing his rest: outside in the steamy weather. Suddenly, Leroy is glad he bought some sodas at the store on his way over. They're open between the two of them, condensation dribbled upon the pavement as Pip finishes up his story.
"Couldn't let him bleed out, not when he could've been an informant, too. So I took him with me." The ashes scattered at his side sift like time. Until the wind takes all.
"You took him with you. As simple as that," Leroy deadpans, side eyeing his captain. That's not his style. Not in the least, messing with annoying brats.
[part of him worries the kid sunk deeper under Pip's skin than he'd thought; from the blood, dried from two days in the sink, the bandages, used and otherwise, scattered about the room.
That's the thing about Pip: he's a great captain, a shitty enough soldier, but he's softer than he'd like to admit]
[which is why Leroy is only surprised at the type of stray this time]
Pip meets his glance head on, eye narrowed as if asking him to say something else. "Simple as that. He's just a kid. Couldn't leave him like that."
He flicks the butt of his cigarette over the railing, watches it tumble and arch, an ember beacon in the air before it lands.
And then his mouth twists into a grin. "Besides...what kinda trouble can a kid be? We just gotta make sure he don't see that cat food or he could call CPS on us..."
The bubble of discomfort, of worry, doesn't burst out of Leroy's chest just like that; Pip's words hardly ever bring him any relief. Its like a hard working tums or something. It takes time. But his shoulders do come down a tick. Maybe he's right. Maybe it could be that simple.
So he settles in, chuckles along.
"Here I thought it was just some mangy cat...hope the boys don't get too disappointed when they ain't got no soft pussy."
Here's what they don't know: five beers apiece later and midday sun will find them with the kid gone, Pip's wallet pilfered, and a shitty note that reads:
You're a bunch of loud, weird fucks. Thanks for patching me up and leaving my ass alone. Hope we never meet again.
B.
P.S get better uniforms if you don't wanna get spotted easily here
[here's what else they don't know: this kid will be the bane of their existence for at least two or three years before they ship him off into the countryside before monsters can render his flesh into ribbons and their last words will be 'fuck you, and thanks for all the wedgies']
He does envy the opportunities to wake up without some other man's elbow in your asscrack, and another snoring piece of shit at your back. Sharing a three and a half star hotel room with three other men is not what he's about in this life. Neither is being errand boy at four am. But, duty calls and he's a little hungry and knows Archer took the last of the lasagna he'd stored in the mini fridge.
So, pulling on sweats and shoes, he darts off into the night to answer the call of duty: specifically that of his captain in a rough, desperate voice while trying not to sound desperate at all. That's what really got him and kept him from hanging up.
[there was no drunken slur of invitation to hang out, not that gruff, yet wry offer of a new job, this was not Business]
About twenty minutes later he shows up at the captain's door, with bags dangling from his fingers and an itch that starts at the base of his ankle. One foot raises to scratch at the other when the door screeches open, and when both war torn men are certain the owner of the inn doesn't come out of hell early this evening, Pip sticks his head out.
The first clue as to how serious the situation is the fact that Pip is still in his uniform. It isn't a matter of the other man sleeping in the outfit-- they all had, and some still do, at any given point. No, it's the fact that they have been out of a job for three days and Pip isn't in his boxers. Clothes rumpled and slept in, single green eye wide and bloodshot, Leroy knows there's something more decisive than--
"I've got the stuff for your stray kitty-- some litter, cause if its young their shit stinks, enough to curdle your other eyeball. There's food, of course, and I got a couple toys and-- why the hell are you looking at me like that, boss," he deadpans upon finally meeting the gaze of his captain.
The other man belts out a giggle, a hysterical note to the sound, to the point where he has to use the doorframe to support himself. Since there's no accompanying meow, Leroy is at a loss.
[for one brief moment he's worried this is one of the moments their captain was charitable and drunk enough to invite him in for a session with his 'kitty'; the horror mounts until the blood runs cold from his face]
[he is not ready for this level up in their friendship]
"That ain't it, man. Usually I'm glad you've got a one dick mind, but not this time. C'mon," jerking a thumb, he pulls the door open for the other man to follow him in, and leads him into the teeny room.
The tuft of bright red hair-- fur? which peeks out from Pip's starch white questionably clean blanket comes as a surprise because the man wouldn't share a bed with a hooker, despite how charming he pretends to be. He's a stingy fuck.
When the lump, decidedly bigger than a cat or dog, shifts and one gangly freckled arm drops over the edge of the bed, Leroy takes one look at Pip and shakes his head. In a stage whisper, he lays into the other man,
"What the fuck!? We trusted you, you ass! We promised each other we'd watch our backs, on the battlefield and our asses! We don't mess with each other's business but kiddy porn!? That's going too far--"
Hands held in surrender, in outrage and annoyance all at once, Pip scowls.
"What the fuck do you think of me, aaahh? That I'm some sick fuck who lays into kids? Get a hold of yourself, man!" He even grabs Leroy by the collar and shakes him a little.
[his fingers shake in the threads of Leroy's uniform, he can feel it beneath the skin and fabric]
"Now shut up, you're gonna wake him up." As if his own staged whisper is any more silent, any more covert. You'd think they were trained professionals or something. There's a moment in which this befuddled deputy chief thinks Pip is almost....fatherly.
In which case he grabs Pip by the collar now and shakes him: "Is this one of your little ginger snaps?! I knew you went off and had fun with the other boys, but this is unacceptable! I told you to always glove it up!" His teeth are clenched, despite how much spit seems to fly from his lips, unbidden. Even his eyes are crazy, he knows.
A rough hand slaps his grip aside, those same hands flick a few stray hairs behind one shitty dirty ear as Pip wonders what to say. And it had better be good.
"I'll tell ya the story later, just know that it ain't like that. Any of that-- are you watching Fred's soaps? Of all the shitty habits..." he mutters to himself, head shaking.
Somehow, somehow they settle the furthest away from the kid as they can manage without disturbing his rest: outside in the steamy weather. Suddenly, Leroy is glad he bought some sodas at the store on his way over. They're open between the two of them, condensation dribbled upon the pavement as Pip finishes up his story.
"Couldn't let him bleed out, not when he could've been an informant, too. So I took him with me." The ashes scattered at his side sift like time. Until the wind takes all.
"You took him with you. As simple as that," Leroy deadpans, side eyeing his captain. That's not his style. Not in the least, messing with annoying brats.
[part of him worries the kid sunk deeper under Pip's skin than he'd thought; from the blood, dried from two days in the sink, the bandages, used and otherwise, scattered about the room.
That's the thing about Pip: he's a great captain, a shitty enough soldier, but he's softer than he'd like to admit]
[which is why Leroy is only surprised at the type of stray this time]
Pip meets his glance head on, eye narrowed as if asking him to say something else. "Simple as that. He's just a kid. Couldn't leave him like that."
He flicks the butt of his cigarette over the railing, watches it tumble and arch, an ember beacon in the air before it lands.
And then his mouth twists into a grin. "Besides...what kinda trouble can a kid be? We just gotta make sure he don't see that cat food or he could call CPS on us..."
The bubble of discomfort, of worry, doesn't burst out of Leroy's chest just like that; Pip's words hardly ever bring him any relief. Its like a hard working tums or something. It takes time. But his shoulders do come down a tick. Maybe he's right. Maybe it could be that simple.
So he settles in, chuckles along.
"Here I thought it was just some mangy cat...hope the boys don't get too disappointed when they ain't got no soft pussy."
Here's what they don't know: five beers apiece later and midday sun will find them with the kid gone, Pip's wallet pilfered, and a shitty note that reads:
You're a bunch of loud, weird fucks. Thanks for patching me up and leaving my ass alone. Hope we never meet again.
B.
P.S get better uniforms if you don't wanna get spotted easily here
[here's what else they don't know: this kid will be the bane of their existence for at least two or three years before they ship him off into the countryside before monsters can render his flesh into ribbons and their last words will be 'fuck you, and thanks for all the wedgies']
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