by Crystal Rose
He pushed Ryan back into the booth and followed him down. They were both making little noises of both need and want.
Those noises became all out growls when cold water was sprayed on them.
“Now, I get y'all have this big crazy thing for each other. Phil, I know that you have wanted the boy since you saw him, and wanted him more than once...I get it. Hell, look at numbnuts over there. I didn't have the patience you did...but damn, guys. None of us want to see your white asses poking up in the air,” Mark said calmly.
Ryan looked at Phillip, who looked like he was about to kill Mark.
“Dick,” Phillip hissed. He pulled away from Ryan reluctantly.
Ryan blinked hazy green eyes at Mark, and then looked at Phillip. He really shouldn't be drinking around the man.
Phillip gave him that heart stopping smile, and Ryan didn't care if they were drunk or not. He was very tempted to take Phillip into the bathroom and not stop until they were both happy or they died of exhaustion, whichever came first.
He grabbed Ryan's hand and led him back to the stool. Both of them shot Mark dirty looks until the man just threw up his arms.
“If y'all would have just fucked all the way through basic like normal people this wouldn't be going on,” he grumbled.
Patrick snickered.
Kenneth snorted
And Brendon just sighed. “All the way through? I shoulda been gay.”
***
Ryan was having a good dream. Phillip was curled around him holding him tightly. Even though Ryan wasn't a cuddler by any sense of the word he figured being cuddled by Phillip wouldn't be such a bad thing. He curled into his pillow and sighed. The damn thing was being a bitch. He pushed and prodded at the fine downy feathers until he realized that his 'pillow' was grunting. He woke slowly, only opening his eyeballs when he was sure they wouldn't explode. He blinked. First off he was not sleeping on his comfortable bed. Instead he was lying against a hard wall of warm flesh. Secondly, his pillow had its arms around him, holding him tightly. A nose was nuzzling his head even as lips peppered soft kisses around the crown of his head.
“Umm...Phillip?” he said groggily.
The body rumbled beneath his. “Wha?”
“Gotta take a piss.” Ryan muttered, not sure if every part of his body would actually come with him. He was too fucking old to sleep on the ground even if he did a have sexier than hell pillow. He looked over at Brendon who was leaning against Kenneth's back. Both of them were sound asleep. It was a pose Patrick and he had done...a lot through basic. They would press their backs together and then nod off just like that. How Brendon and Kenneth slept that way he would never know. “Come on, Stretch. I need to piss.”
“Freckles, if you're this bitchy in the mornin’ I'm not too sure I want you to spend the night,” Phillip said roughly, but let the other man up.
Ryan just smirked and headed toward the bathroom. The previous morning/night was kinda fuzzy. He remembered the fight mainly because he was aching in all the places he would after a fight. Then add on the fact he had been laying on the floor with Phillip. Yeah, he was fucking sore.
He ran into Mark, who was coming down the stairs. “Morning.”
“Mornin.' What time is it?” Ryan asked.
“Ten. Patrick is still sleepin'. He's laying on the stage. Y'all just passed out; didn't see any reason to wake you up.” The older man looked at Ryan for a few moments and then grinned. “That hickey looks painful,” he drawled as he strolled to his lover who was curled and covered up on the stage.
Ryan blinked and grabbed his neck. Shit. Once inside of the bathroom he headed straight to the mirror. Sure enough there was a huge ass hickey on the side of his neck. Not to mention bite marks. He could only pray that Phillip looked like a chew toy too.
He finished up in the bathroom and walked back out. Everyone was in varying stages of waking.
“God, my head won't stop thumping,” Patrick bitched.
“You don't need to yell!” Brendon complained.
“Will you both shut the fuck up?” Kenneth snarled, holding his head in his hands.
“You girls need to learn how to hold your liquor,” Phillip boomed.
Of course Phillip wouldn't have a hangover. He was the perfect fucking man, Ryan thought grouchily.
Even Ryan winced at the sound.
Kenneth said something that suspiciously sounded like 'fuck you'.
“My mouth taste like ass,” Brendon muttered.
“Come on we'll head on home and get cleaned up.” Ryan said, trying to find his keys.
“Behind the bar,” Mark called.
Ryan grabbed his keys and headed toward the door, when he was dragged backwards.
A slip of paper was tucked into his front pocket. Ryan looked up at Phillip. He smiled at the man. Phillip looked like he'd been sucking face with a muffler. The smile left when Phillip lowered his lips to Ryan's.
“Nice hickey,” he whispered before he leaned down and planted an obscenely innocent kiss on his cheek.
Ryan smirked at Phillip. “Yeah, Fido. I know. You know, I'm not a chew toy.” He paused. “And I'm not a girl.”
Ryan and Brendon walked out while hearing Phillip's booming laughter.
***
Ryan opened his apartment door and both of them walked in. The night before, Brendon had seen his apartment. It was a mess. It actually looked like a military truck had puked in his front room. Gear from last month’s field exercise lay spread about all over the front room. Uniforms, spare dog tags, extra pairs of boots and God only knew what else littered the floor.
“Dude, you should really see my home. It looks the same.”
Ryan snorted. He doubted anyone had a house any more cluttered than his. “I like to think it's my own private fuck you to the Army. But, it's mainly when I get home I just want to not move.” He sighed.
“Yeah, will go with the first,” Brendon said.
“Wanna take a shower first?”
“Nah, you go ahead.” Brendon sat down on the couch, which Ryan had thought to uncover before he got there.
Fifteen minutes later when Ryan was brushing his teeth and feeling half way human again, his phone rang. “Can you get that, Brendon?” he yelled.
He figured Brendon got it because it stopped ringing. He slipped on his shorts and walked out. Brendon was still on the phone and was using that 'sexy' voice on whoever was on the other end of the line. Ryan smirked at Brendon.
“Hang on, he just got out,” he said, handing the phone over.
“This is Gracin.” Ryan barked into the phone. Okay, so he didn't have the phone manners his momma tried to teach him.
“Mac?!” He choked and looked at Murray. Murray was making that sexy voice at his baby sister? Well shit, it looked like he would have to kill his friend. “Whiskey Tango Foxtrot Brendon?” He glared at the blond, who just shrugged. Whiskey Tango Foxtrot was their radio speak of asking WTF?
Ryan rolled his eyes at his sister’s reaction. “No, Mac, I don't think you're stupid. Yes, Mac, I realize that you're nearly twenty-two. No, Mac, I don't think you're a little girl anymore.” Like hell. She was his baby sister and even though he didn't see her as often as he should, she was still his baby sister. “Mac! Don't talk like that. No, I figured you knew what Whiskey Tango Foxtrot was. Fine. Fine. Yeah...I'm a bastard. For fuc...Fine, Mac. Yeah. Okay. So are we done playing bitch Ryan out?”
He glared at Brendon when the other man began to laugh. “No! No...as in HELL no,” he barked. “I will not! You have lost your fucking mind, Mackenzie. I will not let you talk to Brendon.”
“Dude! Don't be a jerk. Let me talk to your baby sister,” Brendon drawled out lazily.
“Brendon, I love you, man. I do. But, you even think about Mac I'll fuck your shit up,” Ryan griped. “Fine. Fine. Yeah. No. Mac...seriously shut up! Alright. Yeah. Love you too.” He hung up the phone and glared at Brendon for the millionth time. “Don't even think of it, Murray. I'll fucking kill you.”
“She sounds cute...from what I can remember she was cute when I saw her.” Brendon waited until Ryan was just feet away and then ducked. “Dude, come on. Give me a break; I wouldn't mess with your sister.”
Ryan wanted to believe Brendon. But he knew the guy. Brendon didn't know limits when it came to women. Ryan couldn't even find the boy Brendon had once been. Sophia had done a number on Brendon. After AIT Brendon went back home. Sophia had taken one look at him and suddenly wanted him back. Two days before he left again he caught the girl in bed with some other guy. From then on Brendon had been the love 'em and leave 'em type.
But he settled for a fake punch and a warning growl, for now. They sat down.
“So, Kenneth's worse,” Brendon said.
That took the steam out of Ryan's self righteousness. “Yeah. We have to do something.”
Brendon nodded. “Hell, we're all bad off. Patrick still can't handle the Fourth. Mark said Patrick had to medicate himself last year.”
“Yeah, he did. I still grab for my weapon when a car is moving toward me too fast.”
Brendon nodded. “I can't handle loud noises if I'm not prepared,” he admitted. “But Kenneth is drinking the biggest part of the time. Last week he called from some chick's house saying he didn't remember getting there. He sounded almost scared.” He sighed. “He's looking rough. I don't think he's eating. And his drinking is getting worse and worse.”
“He's drinking and driving,” Ryan said. They both looked at each other. “What are we going to do?”
***
Patrick was on board with their plan. He saw the difference in Kenneth too. All three were sitting at the bar waiting for Kenneth to get in. He refused to stay with Ryan or Patrick. Instead he was staying at a local motel.
“You know what? Fuck this. Let's go.” Patrick grabbed the keys to Mark's truck. They all piled in and went to see their friend.
When they got there Ryan winced. Kenneth's car was double parked and it looked like he hadn't bothered to shut the door. The car had been ransacked already. “Fuck.”
“Room 231,” Brendon said.
They all got to the room door after locking Kenneth's car up. Ryan started pounding. When that did no good Patrick started pecking on the window. And Brendon began yelling.
The door opened slowly. “Y'all are worse than a woman. Fuck,” Kenneth groaned.
They all went in and looked at the place. Four bottles of cheap whiskey sat on the table; one had already been drunk.
“Dude!” Brendon exclaimed. “When did you have time to drink a bottle of Jack?”
“I'm good like that,” Kenneth said roughly.
All three looked at each other. Patrick was the one who started.
“Kenneth...”
“Let's not do this, guys. I'm not stupid. Is this your version of an intervention?” he asked. His voice was so low that all three had to strain to hear him.
“It's our version of we don't want to watch you to kill yourself,” Patrick said bluntly.
Kenneth let out a sound that indicated he didn't buy it. “Get real. I...I can stop at any time.”
“Then do it now,” Ryan said. They had all sat down with him, on his level. Kenneth was going to feel attacked enough.
“I don't want to.” Ryan thought Kenneth sounded child like. He could tell everyone else did too.
“Dude...you have to get some help,” Brendon said gently. “You're my battle buddy. I won't let you drink yourself stupid.”
“Too late,” Kenneth said, grabbing one of the bottles. He opened the seal and looked at them as he took a long drink. “I'm fine.”
“Uh huh. Kenneth, we just spent the better part of the night drunk off our asses. When did you get the booze?”
“I brought it with me,” Kenneth said, shrugging. “Y'all don't get it.”
“What don't we get?” Patrick asked.
“You just wouldn't get it...guys let's not...” Kenneth started and then stopped.
Ryan could see Kenneth was closing off. He did it so quickly that Ryan knew that he was about to blow a gasket. That was the thing about Kenneth. He could go from zero to sixty in seconds flat.
“Ya know what? I don't feel like doing this today,” Kenneth hissed.
“You don't have a choice,” Brendon said as gently as he could.
“Fuck you, Murray.” Kenneth snarled. “You wanna know?”
“Yes, we want to know,” Ryan replied, his voice soft and low like he was talking to an injured animal.
“Really? Okay, how many of you were there when your buddies got hit?”
All three of them had; just different versions.
“Fine, then. How many of you were asked to hold a wound? None? Yeah that's because that’s where a combat medic comes in. We get to hold wounds closed. Find an artery to pinch so we don't fucking lose some bastard because Ali Baba had his good day.” Kenneth looked like he was going to cry. “We have to try and save limbs because we don't want our buddies to...Fuck, half the time we can't even save them.”
Ryan winced. All three of them had seen their share of shit. But Ryan couldn't imagine what Kenneth went through.
“My buddy in AIT always said we were like all the kings men. We always got to put Humpty Dumpty back together again...but you know what? Sometimes you can't put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Sometimes he just fucking dies and there isn't jack you can do about it.” Kenneth's voice was high, too high. His eyes looked wild.
“Kenneth...” Brendon started.
“No, you wanted to know. This is it. No matter what I do I can't save the ones I lost. Those men...God, some of them were just boys...they’re all gone. They just died. I...I couldn't...God it's so hard.” That's when Kenneth began to cry. “I...just want them...to live. I don't want to see them anymore.” Kenneth sobbed hard. So hard that he couldn't stand. Brendon, Patrick and Ryan all put their arms around him. Cocooning him in.
They would keep the world at bay for their friend.
***
The next day Ryan had to go to work. Brendon had decided to bunk with Kenneth. Kenneth was still over the edge and no one wanted to leave him alone. But Ryan was back in formation after morning PT. He was thankful no one said anything about the faded hickey on his neck. At least until Phillip got a good look at it after they got finished with their run.
“Looks like it's fading,” Phillip had commented.
“Yeah, hickies do that,” Ryan said reasonably. He looked at the former drill sergeant. If there was anyone in the world that would know what to do with Kenneth it would be Phillip. But he couldn't ask. Not yet. He couldn't betray Kenneth's trust.
“I'll have to try harder next time.”
Besides, it wouldn't matter because Ryan was going to kill Phillip. The man was too cocky for his own good. Phillip had the ability to be cocky and not make everyone around him hate him. He always had that goofier than hell smile. The one he was currently beaming at him.
“You're a dick, ya know that?” Ryan asked.
“I know. It's good to see the whole Drill Sergeant thing is finally leaving you. I was worried I was gonna have to break old Smoky Bear out.” Ryan's grin took a turn to become dark and seductive. Ryan really fucking hated him.
“Putting on your cadre cover isn't gonna scare me anymore, Grabowski.” Ryan almost choked on the words. God, he really was fucked up. The mental image of Phillip in his rounded brown hat made him nearly groan. If he didn’t watch out his glasses were gonna fog up.
“Nope, but it will turn you on,” Phillip retorted.
“Whatever. I think you have the world’s best freaking ego.”
“Aww, Freckles, you're hurting my feelings. The only way you can make it up to me is by buying me lunch.”
“Get real,” Ryan muttered, strolling to his truck.
“No I'm for reals!” Phillip chuckled and followed Ryan to his truck. “Don't tell me you don't feel it. I have bite marks to prove you do.”
“It's called lust. We'll
get over it.”
“You know, you really are bitchy,” Phillip said, looking at Ryan.
“I guess bitchy equals not easy, to you. Listen Phillip, what we had in basic was...fun.” Hot. Incredible. Sexier than homemade sin. “But, we're both older and we know that sort of shit doesn't last a lifetime-- and I'm kinda done with the part time relationships.” He wanted what Patrick and Mark had.
“Who says I just want to fuck you, Freckles?”
“Your body, Grabowski.”
That ended the conversation. Ryan got into his truck and drove off without waiting for a reply. He sighed when his cell vibrated.
Body wants u. Mind needs U. Dinner w/me?
Ryan was going to say no. Really he was. But his fingers refused to type what he wanted. So instead he sent:
Yeah. When?
2morrow. 1700. I'll pick u up.
Fine.
Chapter Ten
Ryan couldn't believe he was going out with Phillip. He had been tempted to beg off but Kenneth had threatened to tie him up, while Brendon said he would carry him to Mark's truck and Patrick was going to drive him to Phillip's. Any way he looked at it he was fucked. So instead he was sitting in his living room with three daddies doing their best to make sure he looked 'beautiful' without appearing sleazy. At least that's what they were all saying. Brendon picked him up-- as in picked his ass up and carried him into his bedroom with the other two following him.
“Dude, you are not wearing just a t-shirt.” Brendon clucked his tongue and grabbed a button-down.
“Those jeans are dirty...get them off. Ryan, you're going out on a date with the man of your dreams.
Dirty jeans are not right,” Kenneth bitched, going into his closet. He came out with a pair of black slacks.
Patrick thankfully hadn't said anything, even though he was staring at Ryan's head with a critical eye. He hadn't had a chance to get a haircut since the guys got there. His flat top had grown out some. But still it looked good. At least he thought it did.
