Black Hawk Down fanfiction

Gary/Randy, NC-17

Summary: Gary and Randy meet in Sarajevo for the first time

after a prolonged separation.

~*~

It was a typical night in Sarajevo since its siege had begun over a year ago. Dark. There was no electricity to reflect murky yellow light into the night sky, and because of that the stars above twinkled bright and clear.

Laid out on his back as he was, Gary’s feet pointed toward Sarajevo International Airport, the base of operations that the UN Protection Force had negotiated with the Serbs to use for airlifting diplomatic envoys and humanitarian aid, and nothing else, into the locked down city.

The Serbs let them use the otherwise abandoned airport, but every conflicting faction – Muslim, Croat, Serb, psychopath – everyone made them pay with their lives. The place had become a shooting gallery for snipers of every stripe.

Sometimes it was run efficiently – planes landed, unloaded and were back in the air in five minutes flat. Other times it was pure chaos, as snipers and mortar attacks caused such panic that airport operations shut down for days.

This time around a sniper had shut down the place for two days, and counting.

And for those two days Gary and his spotter, Hogan, had stayed camouflaged in their hide, waiting for movement that would give away the sniper’s position. Somewhere in the direction behind his head, across the street from where they were, the sniper remained holed up in one of the bombed out buildings.

Between their position and that of the sniper, five UN aid trucks, each containing tons of food, sat abandoned on the wide boulevard, backed to the airport entrance. The sniper had made it clear that any UNPROFOR personnel, or indeed anyone, who approached the trucks would be shot.

The sniper apparently no longer wished for aid to be sent into the city. And after he’d shot the three occupants of the first truck, causing the rest of the personnel to flee in terror into the airport terminal, he’d gotten his wish.

No one else could be made to venture out. Not UN, and not any of the military personnel stationed at the airport as protection, the latter wasting precious time dragging their feet.

The UN commander had promptly jumped on their Delta Sergeant Major, demanding that the operators take care of the problem. Gary suspected the UN commander was under a vague impression that they were CIA paramilitary. Sergeant Major Roth had ignored the misconception.

Roth had asked Gary and Hogan nicely. And since they had just received word that the upcoming diplomatic envoy they’d been assigned to protect had chickened out of the trip, they’d said sure, why not.

That had been two days ago. At the moment it was Gary’s turn to rest his eyes while Hogan kept watch on his binoculars. Gary took the opportunity to think.

He laid stock still and stared up at the night sky. He was letting his body rest, but making his mind stay active.

He was thinking of Randy.

He was thinking of what star formation Randy was seeing where ever in the world he might be. Whether it was even nighttime where he was. Whether, at that moment, Randy was thinking of him.

And he was feeling the crush of his ache.

It had been one year since he and Randy had been sitting on the floor of the apartment Randy kept, licking ice cream off each other’s mouths, when Randy’s beeper had gone off.

He remembered that it had been vanilla ice cream with a caramel swirl, and that Randy had been trying in fits and starts to tell him the story of a practical joke one of the operators had sustained at Fort Bragg for five years.

He hadn’t made it easy for Randy to talk. He vividly remembered that, and heat slowly spread over his skin.

He closed his eyes and mentally went over his field manual for Randy. He thought of the color of Randy’s hair, light brown, the color of his eyes, a clear bottle green, the curve of his mouth, of his back, the way he could beg until he was hoarse and incoherent.

He inhaled, slow and deep, then exhaled. He focused his mind on his body, spreading the heat that was building inside him across his chest, imagining Randy’s hands doing that for him. He sent the heat down to his stomach, never letting his breathing change. Then he sent it even farther down, to the insides of his thighs, and now it was Randy’s mouth making him so hot.

He was growing hard. And he couldn’t help thinking that the unit psychologist would fucking explode if he ever found out how he applied their bio feedback training.

He breathed, and breathed, allowing his pleasure to coil tighter and tighter, drowning in sensation but fully alert. When another wave of pleasure rode him, he flexed his pelvic muscle, and his orgasm flushed over his body.

For those few moments when he had no control over his body, he allowed himself to float.

Then he came down in one breath, feeling the spasms subside into the tips of his fingers and toes. He couldn’t allow himself to ejaculate, but he let Randy’s name form on his lips, once. His breathing never altered.

When it was all over, his heart still ached. But there was nothing he could do about that.

He opened his eyes and glanced at Hogan, who was still on his binoculars and probably assumed Gary had taken a brief field sleep. He stirred minutely so Hogan would know he was now “awake.”

Which he was. And he’d had enough. It had been two days and their sniper had not made a move. The man clearly wasn’t going to, unless pushed.

Gary ran his thumb back and forth over the surface of their radio, reaching a decision. He thumbed the comm button.

“Sir,” he whispered into the mouthpiece.

“Go ahead,” Roth rumbled without missing a beat. The man was incapable of being caught off guard.

“We need bait.”

There was no response for a full minute, then, “I got you. Stand by.”

It was four hours, and by then pushing midnight, before the radio crackled again.

“Bishop.”

Gary opened his mouth but no sound came out.

It was his call sign, and it was Randy’s voice.

Try as he might, he couldn’t form words. His heart had stopped beating and wouldn’t restart. His mind, however, was losing itself in a riot. He fought the urge to just groan into the radio. He pressed his lips together and frowned at it instead.

On the count of five he was going to force himself to speak. On five he took a deep breath, let it out, and said, “Here.”

“There are six of us,” Randy said.

Six! What the fuck were six operators doing in a conflict the U.S. wasn’t even sure it was interested in?

“We’re coming in a Humvee, as UN personnel. We’ll make targets of ourselves.”

Randy paused. Gary listened to Randy’s silence, his fingers sliding tighter on the mouthpiece.

He knew what Randy was thinking, because it was what he was thinking. That he should stay focused on his part of the job. That he shouldn’t think about being together again after one year.

Gary calmed himself, dropping everything from his mind except the job at hand. “Got it.”

“Let Roth know when you’re done,” Randy said, but didn’t immediately sign off. After a few moments he said, “See you soon.”

There was a soft click. Gary hooked the mouthpiece back on its base and slowly took up position behind his rifle. He felt Hogan settle beside him, his leg sliding over the back of his. They waited.

In less than a minute Roth’s voice came softly over the radio. “They’re moving.”

Gary waited for Hogan to find something. There was no way the sniper would miss this opportunity. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before they got activity.

“Action at Point Five,” Hogan whispered.

“Ready.”

“White, Charlie, Two. Three feet down.”

Gary made swift, incremental adjustments to the horizontal angle of his rifle until he was sighting a bombed out building across the street, one building over to his left. That was Point Five. He looked through the scope at its front wall, up to the third floor, second window from the left.

There was a hole three feet below it the size of a volleyball. Hogan’s coordinates were impeccable. He saw something that might be the shadow of a rifle. In which case the sniper was flat on the floor of the room. Gary aimed into the hole.

He closed his mouth and regulated his heartbeat, keeping his eyes pinned on the shadow. He compartmentalized the rest of the world into sounds.

The roar of a speeding Humvee, with the operators most likely lying flat on its bed. The screech of tires as it braked, probably next to the aid truck nearest the airport entrance. The hard thuds as the operators fell out of the back of the Humvee and hit the concrete road. The swift rustle as they rolled away from the vehicle.

The shadow moved, and it was clearly the barrel of a rifle angling lower. Gary kept his breathing steady, and squeezed the trigger between his heartbeats.

His rifle let out a muted thoomp and the barrel of the rifle in the building across abruptly dropped to the floor.

“There’s more than one,” Hogan said quickly.

Gary chambered another round and to his surprise saw a back rising into the frame of the window. The shape turned, and he fired. It dropped.

They waited, but nothing more happened. If the second person had survived and crawled out of the room, they wouldn’t know. Hogan radioed it in while Gary quickly packed up their equipment for the trip across the road to check on their quarry.

“Nice work, guys,” Roth growled in his usual understated manner. “Come on in. I’ll have someone else check it out.”

Hogan nodded to Gary and they made the return twenty minute crawl to the rip in the airport chain link fence they had come through. A Humvee was speeding back and forth along the fence, waiting for their arrival. They flagged it down and hopped in, lying flat on its bed as it carried them back to the main office building of the airport terminal.

The place was once again teeming with personnel freed from their bunkers and now efficiently running around, returning to their posts. It had been less than half an hour since they’d eliminated the threat, but things looked to be returning to normal.

Gary sent Hogan back with their equipment to their sleeping area. Neither Roth nor any of the other operators were anywhere in sight.

He stood indecisive for a moment, thinking he should go look for Roth for a debriefing, but knowing he’d only be chasing after Randy. Roth knew where to find him. So he headed instead for the UN commander’s office.

The commander was half sitting on his wide desk, swinging one leg excitedly.

“Delta Force!” he gushed, his eyes following Gary’s every step. “Of course, of course!”

Gary sat down in the chair opposite the desk and propped his feet on the table, mud and all. This guy was a political jackass, had been from the start, and the sooner he was done here, the better.

“Sir, where’s Sergeant Major Roth?”

The UN commander fluttered his hands dismissively. “He said he’ll be here. Now, here’s what I have in mind.”

Gary looked up at him. He had something in mind? For him?

“You and your partner were supposed to be stationed here for eight days anyway, before and during the diplomatic envoy’s stay. Well, they’re not coming, and we have six more days. So you two will spend the rest of the time leading a team of sharpshooters up and down the airport boulevard, clearing it of snipers.”

Gary blinked at him.

The man continued, completely unaware. “I can get you a team of whatever type of shooters you want. Ex-soldiers, mercenaries, military, you name it. The boulevard will become a no-go zone for snipers, and the airport will reap the benefits.”

Gary dropped his head and shook it in disbelief. No matter how often he encountered this type of desk jockey, he was always surprised. What was it about putting other people in stupid, dangerous situations that appealed to them so much?

“I’m sorry,” he said flatly. “What you’re asking is for me to commit suicide.”

The commander looked uncomprehendingly at him.

“And,” Gary couldn’t help adding, because he’d had enough. “If I were ever going to stick my neck out like that I’d definitely want to make my own plans.”

The commander squinted at him. “You’re saying you’re going to disobey orders? Sergeant, while stationed here, I am your commanding officer. Either you accept and perform this mission as I just laid out, or there will be consequences. Am I making myself clear?”

“Fuck you,” a distinctly recognizable voice said from the door.

Gary kept his head down and twisted his lips to control his pure delight. It was no use, though. Vital parts of his body had started tingling to life, and he was kinda feeling lightheaded. He was falling in love all over again.

The commander leapt to his feet. “Who the hell are you?”

The side of Gary’s mouth pulled hard, and he gave up and broke out in a face splitting grin. He looked up at the rankled officer.

“He’s my Daddy,” he said, and stood up.

He turned to find Randy only a few feet behind his chair, and Roth standing near the door. Roth walked into the room, waving at him and Randy.

“Get going guys,” he said as he reached the commander’s desk. “You’re done here. 0600 hours, the C-130 departs for home. Be on it.”

“We’re not here for the night,” Randy stated.

“Just be on the transport in the a.m.”

Randy nodded, and Gary followed him out of the room just as the UN commander began sputtering.

The artificial corridor outside the main terminal doors flowed with a tide of human traffic too heavy for its narrow space. UN personnel had stacked massive Connex containers full of dirt five feet from the wall of the office building, creating a barrier that would stop sniper fire, and provide a meager walk space.

They managed to weave their way through, which for Gary meant staying close to the building wall and trying to keep his big body out of everyone else’s path. They reached its opening on one end and walked out into the night air. Randy stepped aside and stopped.

“I’m being put up by a nice family,” Randy said, peering distractedly at the now lit-up tarmac.

Gary was sure he was thinking exactly what he’d thought when he first saw the place. A lit-up invitation for snipers. He'd come to understand, though, that it was intentional, as a UNPROFOR deterrent to Bosnians trying to escape across the airport and into Mount Igman behind it, and the outside world beyond that.

He supposed the UN considered it in keeping with their side of the agreement to only use the airport for humanitarian aid.

He sighed. Sometimes he was just plain sick of irony.

“They’re expecting us for dinner.”

He turned and stared at Randy’s profile. Randy had changed out of his borrowed UN uniform and into a cotton shirt with rolled up sleeves, and khaki pants. He’d never seen Randy’s hair so long, swirling down his nape. He couldn’t stop looking, at the way his hair brushed the shirt’s collar, the way the soft material fell between his shoulder blades.

His heart was beating so hard he was sure Randy heard, but Randy seemed the picture of calm control that Gary always remembered.

Except that his pulse was tripping erratically at the base of his throat, and he was actively avoiding looking at Gary.

Gary’s heart beat harder, and harder still when he felt Randy’s fingers dig into his forearm.

Randy turned and faced him, his eyes a deep, dark shade of emerald. “It’s nice to see you again, Gary,” he said, and his voice cracked.

To his dismay, Gary felt himself hardening. “I’ll grab my stuff,” he said thickly, and Randy’s hand fell away.

Randy gestured toward their right. “See that light APC with the French Foreign Legion guy on it?”

Gary looked for the incredibly conspicuous white helmet the Legionnaires wore.

“He’s my ride. Meet me there in ten.”

He was changed and back at the armored personnel carrier in less than five minutes. His gear and belongings were always ready to move when he was, but tonight he had an acute reason to haul ass.

Randy stood waiting by the vehicle, handing him two Kevlar vests when he reached him. Though nighttime was the safest time from snipers, Gary had heard of bullets penetrating the APCs and going right through the Kevlar vests of the passengers inside. It made sense to double up on armor.

Once the back shut, the interior of the APC was black, and only a faint gleam of light came in through the smeared little rectangles that passed for windows. He and Randy were the only occupants of the vehicle.

He laid on his back and slid along the floor of the vehicle until his head bumped the wall of the cab.

There were benches along either side of the interior, so he was startled and had to stifle a hot moan when Randy’s body slid up on top of his, creating an instant layer of heat. Randy was also on his back, his face right next to and slightly below Gary’s. He settled his legs between Gary’s and spread, pushing Gary’s farther apart.

Gary contracted his arms around Randy’s chest and pulled him tight against his body. He turned his head and bit his ear. “Stop it,” he growled, and Randy made a low sound in his throat.

Gary wondered about the driver, who merely had to turn his head and peer down through the dividing Plexiglas to get an eyeful. But that was just it, wasn’t it? The man had to make the effort, and at the moment all his efforts were concentrated on barreling the Humvee as fast as he could through the deadly streets so as not to tempt sniper fire.

Gary felt his thighs gripped and acted purely on reflex, pulling his legs up. His feet braced on the floor and his hips lifted before he could stop them. Randy’s head fell back, his face turning into Gary’s nape. He panted against Gary’s neck.

This was fucking insane.

He pressed his mouth to Randy’s ear. “Randy,” he moaned. “What the fuck are you doing.”

“How the fuck should I know,” Randy panted back.

“Okay,” Gary gasped. “Then… don’t move anymore, okay? Just hold still before I shoot all over your ass.”

Randy snorted and began laughing, and Gary broke down as well. Fuck, it was better than lying there risking injury to his cock.

A minute later the APC stopped, and suddenly Randy was moving lightening fast. Just as the back door opened, he sat up, reached under the benches and pushed out what felt like cardboard boxes. A little light spilled in from the opened door, and the Legionnaire called in, “See you at 0500 hours, my friend.”

Randy thanked him and jumped out, hauling two of the cardboard boxes out after him. Gary did the same, reaching for the remaining one.

He followed unquestioningly as the Humvee sped away and Randy raced for the front entrance of the blackened, mortar-pocked apartment building they had been deposited in front of.

They strode down a black corridor until they reached its end. Gary realized it was the south side of the building, situated opposite the sniper beleaguered north facing side of the city. He followed Randy into a small bombed out room with destroyed furniture everywhere except for one organized, neat area.

They went through a door on their left and stepped into a candlelit room full of people. Gary started at the sudden profusion of people, when it seemed the building was abandoned. There was a sudden high pitched screech, and Randy was dropping his boxes just in time to catch a little girl who had raced across the room and jumped into his arms.

The girl continued her high pitched screeching in Arabic, and Gary looked around the room in wonder.

There were nine adults in the room, three women, an old man, three young men of varying ages, and two middle aged men. There was also another little boy in the room. Every one of them was frantically collecting water that was spraying out of broken pipes.

One of the women called to the little girl Randy was holding securely in his arms. Randy said something back to the woman, and carefully put the girl on the floor. He strode forward and grabbed two buckets, and Gary followed.

Without any introductions, Gary spent the next hour or so collecting water in buckets and dumping it in a massive aluminum container in one corner of the room.

When the water abruptly stopped spraying from the pipes, they were done. They were wet, and when he looked at his watch, he saw that it was nearly two-thirty in the morning. He took a big breath, and looked around.

Everyone started talking at once. He only understood a handful of phrases in Arabic, but it seemed they all wanted to get dry, and… eat?

The room they were in seemed to be a demolished kitchen, and the family dispersed into other rooms while Randy crooked his finger at him. They went into a room to their left, ringed with broken furniture, sofas and armchairs, and thick wooden tables on their sides.

They sat in the circle and Gary finally found himself with a moment alone to turn to Randy.

“What on earth just happened?”

Randy smiled at him, then reached over and placed his hand on the back of his neck. He worked his hand inside his shirt collar, down and then back up his neck, until it was buried in his hair. Gary could only stare in confusion at him. What was he doing with all these people around?

“Water comes sporadically, so we collect when we can. You should see what happens when the electricity works. Everything gets done at once.”

Gary just continued staring. How long had Randy been in Sarajevo? Why was he living with a family and not staying at a barracks?

He shouldn’t ask. He wasn’t on the assignment with Randy. But it was all so unusual, and they were alone in a dark room in a place they had never expected to meet. He leaned closer.

“Randy,” he whispered. “What—”

“Shh.”

Gary straightened and watched as the women entered with what were clearly military MREs, and other assorted food items, some cooked. UN humanitarian food. They laid it all out in the circle. Blankets were draped over his and Randy’s shoulders. He pulled his tighter and waited as the others showed up, now dressed in dry clothing, and sat down with them.

They said a prayer over their food, and as soon as it was done, the little girl, whom he figured to be about nine, squiggled into Randy’s lap. Randy reached his arms around her, and they began to eat.

Gary wasn’t hungry, even though he couldn’t even remember when last he’d eaten, but he made the effort to nibble on some rice. What he was, was slightly stunned and disoriented, and frankly envious of the little girl sitting in Randy’s lap.

He snuck a sideways glance at Randy, and noticed that the woman across from him was grinning hugely at him.

He looked at her, and saw that the two other women sitting next to her were also grinning at him. Then he realized the men were as well. And the old man, too. The only people not smiling at him with interest were the kids.

He looked from one face to the next, confused. The first woman, who was about fifty and built like a boxer, wriggled her jaw, flashed her eyes at him, and spoke in Arabic, grinning all the while.

The other two responded likewise, and one of the men chastised them in their language with a word Gary did understand. “Behave!”

And then they were all snickering.

Gary looked in bewilderment at Randy, but Randy was looking across at the women, replying in a low, amused voice. Gary understood the word “girl.” The circle broke out tittering, even the old man. Randy didn’t make eye contact with him, smiling at the ground instead, and somewhat deviously at that.

Unless he was mistaken, Randy had just referred to him as… his girl.

Nothing he did would stop the flush that crept up his neck. He smiled hesitantly and chewed on his food until everyone else was done and Randy was getting up.

He stood up, mumbled As’salam alaikum, and went out after Randy.

They were back in the small outer room they’d initially come through. It was pitch dark and they had to pick their way to the organized area he’d seen earlier, which he assumed was where Randy slept. It was portioned off by broken furniture. Randy knelt, pulling him down as well, and sought out a candle with fast, meticulous movements.

Gary pressed up against the sofa and pulled his knees up, not caring that his legs might be in Randy’s way.

“Hurry,” he whispered.

Candlelight flickered to life in the circle, and now they could see each other’s faces. Randy gripped his knees and spread them, shifting into the space between them. Gary instinctively pressed his knees into Randy’s sides, pulling him closer.

Randy’s hands slid down his thighs to his crotch, and Gary felt his eyelids flutter. Fuck. He forced them to stay open, trying to hold Randy’s gaze which had locked on him.

He slid his hands over Randy’s and realized the heavy breathing he was hearing was his own. He tried closing his mouth but Randy was watching him, his eyes dark and hooded, seemingly unperturbed.

“How much have you missed me?” Randy asked softly, and Gary had to open his mouth again to let air into his lungs.

“I’ve missed your awful chess playing,” he panted.

Randy slowly pressed his thumbs into the insides of Gary’s thighs, right where his legs ended and his crotch began. “Have you.”

All the blood left Gary’s brain and flowed to his cock. He began to groan.

Randy’s mouth dropped open and his breaths shook as they left him. Gary stared with glazed eyes, ran his tongue over his mouth, squinted in satisfaction when Randy unconsciously imitated.

“Turn yourself in, soldier,” he couldn’t help gloating, and closed his eyes when Randy finally lowered his head and kissed his mouth.

It wasn’t even really a kiss, more of a thorough licking. Randy’s mouth moved warmly across his, sucked on his upper, then his lower lip. Then his tongue slid between his lips and his teeth. Gary felt his cock pulse and stiffen almost painfully. When he pushed out his tongue it got sucked. He groaned like an injured recruit. He got shushed. Then the hair at the back of his head was being pulled, his head held immobile, and he was being properly kissed.

He tried to shove his hands into Randy’s pants, tried to pull him into his lap, but Randy was descending the length of his body. Randy’s teeth snagged and pulled at his lapel and shirt pocket and buttons, and then his face was boring under Gary’s shirt and pressing into his stomach.

Gary fell back against the sofa as Randy’s hands worked on the button of his pants. Then he burrowed his face into the hot opening and his breath heated Gary’s crotch, making his body and heart contract hard. Gary emitted small sounds from his throat and realized the corners of his eyes were stinging with tears. It was a sad fact, but true, because after all it had been a fucking year.

And even though Randy constantly told him not to, he let his mind rocket back to the very first time he had received a blow job from Randy. The shock and eroticism of it, how he had been reduced to a mess. The memory of it never permitted him to last, so when Randy’s mouth engulfed him and his arms slid around his waist, he immediately climaxed down his throat.

Gary slowly caught his breath, trembling in frustration. Randy rose and sat next to him, keeping his arms around him. He kissed his temple while Gary’s breathing returned to normal, then Gary turned and kissed down his body, until he was sucking on his wet cock.

Randy pulled his legs up and wrapped his arms around Gary’s head, bent over and whispered in his ear, pleaded with him to suck harder, to not stop until he came, as if Gary could, and then he was spurting in Gary’s mouth.

Randy’s spasms subsided gently, eliciting soft licks from Gary until Randy pulled on his arms. He moved up and rested his head on Randy’s shoulder. Randy’s arm circled his shoulder and stayed there. They sat in silence for a long time.

“Where’s all your stuff?” Gary asked eventually.

“Sold for black market goods for the family. I sold everything else for tonight’s boxes of food, since we’re leaving tomorrow.”

“Did Roth say where to?”

“Somalia. We’re going in with a task force. Rangers, the works.”

“That should be fun.” He had been in Somalia for two months at the beginning of the year, but of course he couldn’t say. Then he stilled as it hit him. “Wait. We? Bowstring we?”

“Yeah.”

Bowstring was the nickname for Delta's readiness status, with each of the three squadrons rotating turns to be on the ready. It was C Squadron's turn at the moment, and he and Randy were in C Squadron.

He smiled.

“What are you supposed to be here, anyway?”

“War photographer.”

Gary knew that was as much as he could, and should, ask. “They’re a nice family,” he said.

He felt Randy nod. “Everyone here is nice. I helped them find this place right after their oldest son was killed in one of the sniper alleys.”

Gary bit down on his lip. Should he bring it up? “They… they seemed to know. About me and you.”

“When I got the call from Roth I told them I was going out, and would be returning with you.”

“But they’re Muslim.”

Randy didn’t say anything for a while. Then he said quietly, “Well it seems in the middle of the worst siege since World War Two, the people of this city have gotten their human priorities in order.”

Gary listened, realizing Randy had been deeply affected by whatever he’d seen in this place.

“Everything just seems… more clear to them,” Randy said, almost reverently. “Their emotions are unfiltered, simplified. If they love, they show it. And they grieve with such intensity you can barely stand it.”

He stopped talking. When he spoke again his voice was lighter. “Have you seen the big mosque?”

“The main one, you mean?”

“Yeah. A long time ago as a student, I sat in the square there and listened to a lecture on the city’s history. And what a history it is.”

“When was this?”

Randy snorted. “This was when you were still in diapers.”

Gary snorted louder. “And you were a world weary three.”

Randy’s quiet laughter stirred his hair, and Gary grinned into the dim room.

“Fuck if I haven’t missed you, Randy.”

“Quit it,” Randy chastised, and Gary knew he was right.

Then he frowned as Randy suddenly undid his shirt button and slid his hand into his shirt, running his fingers over his skin.

They couldn’t do anything more than what they’d already done, seeing as they were in someone else’s home. But God knew he was dangerously close to wrestling Randy to the floor if he kept on stroking him like that.

“Where did you get this scar?” Randy asked.

“Ah,” Gary smiled, understanding. Time to catch up. “This was about seven months ago. Some joker in an alley with a knife, if you can believe it.”

“How anticlimactic,” Randy said dryly. “And speaking of jokers…”

Gary laced his fingers through Randy’s, still resting on his stomach. They would sleep on the transport back to the States. Maybe. He tried not to think of the possibilities, the opportunities, inherent in being on the same mission with Randy. He shouldn’t excite himself any further.

He tilted his head back and looked up at Randy. “Go on,” he said.

So Randy picked up where he’d left off a year ago, with the story of the five year practical joke that was still the record at Bragg.

~*~