(no subject)
Chomsky sat in front of the tv, after dinner popsicle in his mouth as he watched cartoons before bed. Turning suddenly, he pulled the iced treat out of his mouth with a pop and pointed at the tv, squirming around. “Look at the kitties!”
Anarchy glanced up from his laptop at the cat food commercial, nodding once before continuing to type, but Gage smiled, pulling one leg out from under Anarchy’s to lean forward a bit. “They’re cute, aren’t they.”
“Yeah!” Chomsky stuck the popsicle back in his mouth, sucking hard on it for a few moments as the commercial ended before turning around again. “Can we get a kitty?”
Anarchy’s head jerked back up again, blinking a few times before turning to Gage for support. The brunet just shrugged. “We have a kitty.”
“Another kitty.” Chomsky scrunched up his face, biting the end off his popsicle dismissively. “‘Sides, Owell is all old and fat and booooring. I wanna kitty to play with.”
Anarchy glanced across the room where his ancient, half-blind, nearly deaf damn ball of fat and fur lay napping on the armchair.
“Yeah, a kitten would be great,” he drawled, sarcasm completely missed by their son, who smiled brightly and squirmed up from his customary spot in front of the tv to climb up onto the couch.
“Yeah! So let’s get one please please pleeeeeeeeeeaseee?” The six year old clambered over Gage’s legs to squirm between the two of them, peering up between them hopefully. Gage lifted his eyebrows, slight smile stretching across his mouth, and Anarchy just snorted and glanced back down at his work.
“God.”
Special Ops III had returned in late evening, but it was closer to the mittle of the night when they’d gotten their gear unpacked and their lieutenant had given them all a last rousing speech (which most the various gawkers who’d showed up agreed was completely goofy and a little demented). Then they’d scattered, mixing into the late night traffic of other soldiers, only really recognizable by the amount of fur items they wore and their delight with stupid everyday shit like showers and bunker mattresses.
Lieutenant Nikkos, meanwhile, squeezed away from his unit and various fans, bored soldiers, or would-be transfers to disappear into the back tunnels, grinning and ducking through some new construction on his way. Finally finding what he was looking for - the door different from a whole hall of them only by some rough letters scratched into the surface - he half-knocked, claws tapping metallically against the metal. From inside the room came various stumbling and a few muttered curses before the door opened to reveal a rather rumpled up Phillip Matthews, squinting into the bright hallway light. “Huhn?”
“Hi!” Tad replied brightly, waving needlessly. Phillip blinked back, ran a hand through his hair, and looked - with some slight disbelief - back.
“God, Tad?” At the younger man’s nod, he just blinked again. “When the hell did you get so tall.”
Frowning slightly, Tad fiddled with an earring, thinking seriously. “Well I haven’t seen you since uhh... no, last time your unit was gone, so.. Umm...”
Rolling his eyes, Phillip just grabbed the other man - who was definitely the same height as him now - and twisted a bit, shoving him against the doorframe and grabbing a hard kiss. And Tad, despite being Lieutenant Nikkos and having actually grown into his features properly, looking like a real fucking soldier for once instead of a kid on a camping trip, nonetheless let out a very un-leader-like moan and slumped backwards a bit, grabbing for Phil’s belt and tugging him closer. Their hips met and they broke apart, both breathing a little heavier as Phillip glanced up and down the hallway before raising his eyebrows slightly at the younger man. “So your unit’s back?”
“Yeah,” Tad grinned widely, still looking like a damn puppy or something underneath his scars. “So I thought it’d be pretty ciller if I could spend the night, you know?”
“Ciller. Right.” Phil just stared back at him for a second before snorting and not quite smiling, grabbing Tad by the collar of his shirt, and gracelessly dragging him into the dark quarters before slamming his door shut with a bang.