by Crystal Rose
Alex
***
2 Jan 2007
Dear Ryan Gracin,
Your letter has been submitted and will be in our July 'Salute to our Troops' edition of Penthouse.
Thanks for your submission,
Penthouse Editors. ( AKA Brenden)
***
3 Jan 2007
Ryan,
When you check your email, make sure you're replying to the right one, and don't click ‘reply all’.
Patrick
***
3 Jan 2007
Ryan,
Wow. Can I just say that was the best Christmas present EVER. If you wanna write Phil another one like that please do. I'll even forward a good heading for you. Something like “Too hot to handle.” Or something equally as cheesy. How about ‘Be all you can FUCKING be - In The Arrrrrmy!
Tory? Do you think we could make money from it?
Sandy.
***
3 Jan 2007
Sandy,
Totally! I think we should make it into a book...wait, what if they let us watch? Holy hell, you two. I'm all for that. I'm researching for a new book. Anal Sex: Love it or leave it. You two could be my muses. Come on guys! Work with me on this one!
Tory
***
3 Jan 2007
Everyone,
Come on guys! Work with my wife. It will be great. She can debunk all the nasty rumors about gay sex. You'll be doing it for the greater good!
Alexander
***
3 Jan 2007
Alexander,
You just want her to get all hot and bothered so you get laid.
Patrick
***
3 Jan 2007
Patrick ,
Duh!
Alexander
***
3 Jan 2007
Ryan,
For fucks sakes! Ryan do me a favor...don't ever email me again.
Mark
***
3 Jan 2007
Ryan,
Wow, baby I didn't know you were such an exhibitionist. When you get home we'll take care of that fetish.
Girls? You wanna watch? Maybe sell popcorn?
Phillip.
***
4 Jan 2007
Ryan,
Well, this is to Phillip too. If you want I can set up a camera we could totally make a killing off it. Gay porn is HUGE. And you two are kinda pretty. Well, Ryan is anyways. Don't worry, I'll make it all tasteful and shit. I'm reading up on how to shoot the correct angles.
I even have cool porn names for you both. We can call Phillip: Phillip Longdong. And for Ryan: Ryan Takesituptherear. Come on admit it. It's pure genius!
I'll even cut you guys in 50/50. Come on Phil do it for your family, man! You'll be rich. And think of this way, Ryan. If you do it you'll be rolling in cash so you won't have to deploy again.
Kenneth (I need a cool porn name.)
***
4 Jan 2007
Kenneth,
How about Dumbass McQuetip
Phillip.
***
5 Jan 2007
Everyone,
I Hate You All.
Ryan.
***
The deployment was going slowly. Mark hated that. He was working on his routine and dealing with a grumpy-assed Phillip most days. HE could handle it though. He was happy Phillip was awake and dealing with everything in his own way. Mark knew Phillip had nightmares...a lot. The dark-haired man never talked about them but Mark knew the signs.
He was rolling his cart through the local supermarket, trying to stick with his list. It was a sore spot between him and Patrick. Whenever Patrick went shopping he never deviated from the list. Mark on the other hand spent an untold amount of money on things that just 'sounded' good.
He normally hated the supermarket, namely because of all the army wives. He knew there were good ones out there. Hell, Tory freaking rocked. But, his dealings with them were limited to his bar and the supermarket. The ones that came to his bar were generally 'war-widows.' The kind that got all dolled up on Friday night when their husband was overseas and scratched an itch that they had. Or the ones that figured since they were in the Army (when in reality it was their husband who was in the Army) they knew all about what was going on.
He couldn't stand either type. He was grabbing a package of cheddar cheese when he overheard two of them talking.
“They send our men over there and turn them into monsters!” one said. Mark felt himself becoming edgy.
“I know! And they expect US to make them all better. Larry damn near tried to strangle me in his sleep!” the other said.
Mark clenched his jaw tight.
“Fucking Army,” the first one groused.
“We should write the President! This has got to stop. What if he comes home and tries to kill our kids?”
Mark figured he looked like one of those cartoons - steam pouring from his ears, his face beet-red. This was why he didn't like going to the supermarket.
When he turned the corner there they were. He knew one. She came to his bar. She was the 'free' sort when her husband was deployed.
“Well, if they come home and kill us MAYBE someone will pay attention.”
“We'd only be lucky if he came home and killed you,” Mark muttered. He thought he kept it quiet, but both women gasped and stared at him.
“Excuse me?” Her eyebrows went straight up into her platinum-blond locks.
“I said,” he repeated for her benefit, turning to look right at them, “we'd only be lucky if he killed you.” He pointed a finger right at her. “Listen, they don't need you to make them better. They need you to fucking understand.”
Both women glared at him.
“Our guys, they are over there so you can sit on your ass and eat bonbons or whatever the fuck you eat whenever you’re not out at the bar crying in some stupid bastard’s beer about how lonely you are and getting yourself fucked in the fucking bathroom. They may not like what you say but they will defend your right to say whatever fucked up asinine shit you come up with. So show them some goddamn respect!” Mark was shaking as his anger coursed through him.
Both women gasped. “How dare you!?”
Mark smirked at her. “Bitch, please. I dare a whole lot more, but I'm being really fucking nice right now. You don't fucking want me to be mean. Take your shit and get the fuck out of here.” Patrick would say he was channeling his Drill Sergeant self.
Both women took one look at him and decided he wasn't one to fuck with. They left, mumbling to themselves. Oh yeah. He was so fucking ready for Patrick to get home. He was getting as bitchy as Ryan.
***
After Mark's trip to the supermarket, Sandy decided she would just get his groceries when she bought her own. Her reasoning was simple. She could kick their asses while Mark could only shred their dignity.
Mark picked up the phone on the second ring. It was close to Patrick's home date. He couldn't wait.
“Hey baby!”
Mark grinned. Patrick never called him ‘baby’ unless he had good news.
“How's Fido doing?”
It was Patrick's way of saying that he was coming home. They worked out their own little code during Patrick's first deployment.
“Pretty good, but getting older by the day.” Mark replied easily, which meant 'when are you coming home?”
“Now you know better. He's just a pup. Three days and our baby boy will be one whole year old.”
Mark gasped, and couldn't keep the smile from his voice. “Oh really? You always liked the dog better than me.” That meant 'I fucking love you and can't wait until you get home.’ “Three days-- really?”
“Yup. Anyways, I can't stay long. Just wanted you to know that I was thinking about Fido.”
“Uh huh. Understood, babe. I'll even give Fido one hell of a birthday party.”
“Good. Love you, Mark.”
***
After Patric
k got home everything began to happen at once. Ryan and Alexander were heading home a week later. Brendon had gotten his orders to head back the same week. He was coming down to Hood before he shipped out.
Phillip was nervous. It was really stupid, seeing how he'd been in several of these. Of course he was always the one coming home, but still. It had been nearly a year since he’d last seen Ryan. Letters, emails, pictures and the cam-to-cam chats were all well and good, but not what he really wanted. Now in one of those six buses sat the one thing he wanted more than his own life, and he was fucking nervous as a sixteen-year-old virgin on her prom night.
The band was playing some sort of cheesy song about yellow ribbons, and everyone looked as nervous as he did. Tory was chewing on her lip so much he was worried she'd make herself bleed.
“They like to do this,” she grumbled. “We KNOW they are in there and they want us to work ourselves into a frenzy. I'm not doing it this time,” she said stubbornly.
“Uh huh,” Patrick drawled, laughing.
“Oh fuck off, Patrick,” Tory muttered. “Look!!” She punched Phillip in the arm when she noticed the guys rising out of their seats on the bus. “They're coming!”
Phillip couldn't fault her. He was tempted to nail Patrick who glared at him as if he knew what the much taller man was thinking. Tory's smaller hand slid into his and they both watched as the buses began to unload their cargo.
What seemed to be forever later, all the buses were empty. One by one they began to pull away.
Pandemonium broke out. Men, women and children were on their feet screaming and yelling themselves hoarse.
He still sat though. He didn't want to tire himself until he could actually see Ryan. So he sat, yelling at the top of his lungs.
Sandy and Katie were behind him doing enough yelling that the whole crowd could disappear and it would still sound like a million people were cheering.
The Color Guard stood in front and slowly the soldiers began to march forward. The Stands were gonna bust. People were standing, pounding and in general making more noise than at a ‘Dallas Cowboys’ football game. Phillip slowly stood, leaning heavily on the cane that he’d brought with him.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I'm going to keep this short and sweet. We're back. I had the greatest pleasure serving with each and every one of these men. I would do so again in a heartbeat. Charlie Troop!”
“DISMISSED!”
“SCOUTS, LEAD THE WAY!”
Etta James's smooth, sexy voice filled the area.
At last, my love has come along. My lonely days are over and life is like a song.
Patrick helped Phillip walk towards the platoon. Phillip smiled when he heard Tory's loud, shrill shriek.
“Alexander!!”
He watched as the woman ran toward her husband and threw herself into his waiting arms. There was something to be said for that first hug and kiss. It was like falling in love all over again.
He looked around and still hadn't seen Ryan. This time he was the one chewing on his lips.
Oh, yeah, at last the skies above are blue. My heart was wrapped up in clovers…
He blinked as he scanned every single soldier. Where the fuck was Ryan?
He felt Patrick hit him on the shoulder. He looked up at the guy and saw he was pointing.
The night I looked at you I found a dream that I could speak to. A dream that I can call my own I found a thrill to rest my cheek to. A thrill that I have never known.
Phillip's hazel eyes fell upon the sight he had been dreaming about since he said good-bye to Ryan after his R&R. . . His gaze gobbled the other man up. He stood stock-still, leaning on his cane. He couldn't move. Ryan was right in front of him. It was slow motion. It was poetry. It was every single, fucking, sappy thing he ever heard about. He started to cry.
Oh, yeah when you smile, you smile…Oh, and then the spell was cast
A slow, happy smile began to blossom on Ryan's face. Phillip slowly began to walk toward him. Ryan began to move too. He dropped his duffel bag and slowly, inches at a time they met until they were a breath apart. Phillip's hand came up and caressed the whiskered, rough cheek of his lover. Ryan leaned into the touch.
“I love you, Ryan,” Phillip said, his voice rough with emotion.
“I love you too, Phillip,” Ryan replied.
Their lips met and for a split second everything in the world was right. Everyone else disappeared. They were the only two that existed in the world.
And here we are in heaven For you are mine…At last
Epilogue
Carol Harris blew her bangs out of her face. She was told shakedown sucked and she was starting to believe it. They hadn't met all of their Drill Sergeants yet but she knew it was coming.
So far she had been able to control herself, mostly because the Drills themselves were scarier than hell.
Drill Sergeant Krutz called them to attention. Something was going on. She thought maybe that Drill Sergeant Grabowski was coming. They had all been warned about him. He was crazy as hell. She worried her bottom lip when she heard a door slam open.
She heard him before she saw him.
Soft rocks crunched under sure footsteps and she knew it was someone important. She looked forward and prayed that the guy wouldn't look like Igor. But she almost prayed he did. It would otherwise upset her belief in the delicate balance of justice and injustice.
“Good afternoon, recruits. My name is Drill Sergeant Ryan Grabowski and for the next nine weeks I am the motherfucking God you will worship.”
Shit! Her new Drill had a voice fit for sin.
“When you pray, it will be to me. When you eat, it will be only because I have granted you nourishment. At night when you are asleep your dreams will be controlled by me.”
Shit. Double Shit. And throw a fuck in there too.
“I will tell you how to walk, when to talk and how to fucking use the bathroom. Without me your fucking life is useless. Get used to my new commandments, ladies. For you only have the graces I give you!”
Carol blinked several times when the crunching of stones stopped in front of her.
“Look at me, Private!”
She looked and felt like she was going to faint. Holy Mary Mother of God. The drill sergeant was beautiful. Even with the smirk on his face. Those green eyes were ice cold, yet sent heat swirling through her body.
“Where are you from?”
“California?” She was spazzing, she knew she was.
“Are you asking me or telling me? Fucking US Army recruits! They stick me with the dumbest fuckers they can find. Which is it?”
And with that began Carol's trip into the entity known as the US Army experience.
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