The Unit/Supernatural Fic: Hazardous Duty
Posted to unit_command and sn_crossovers
Title: Hazardous Duty
Pairing/Characters: Mack/Dean, Tiffy, Jonas, Tom
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Season 1 (Supernatural), Season 1 (The Unit)
Summary: Mack can't stop thinking about new Unit soldier Dean Winchester
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
"Mack! Come over here. I want you to meet someone."
Jonas beckoned to him across the break room and Mack rose obediently and joined his team leader by the doorway.
"This is Master Sergeant Dean Winchester. He's new on Bravo team, well, rejoining after an absence."
"Winchester, huh?" Mack said thoughtfully as he shook the man's hand. He looked almost too pretty to be in the military, with girly eyelashes and full pink lips, but his handshake was all Army. "I think I must have missed you somehow."
"Dean was on the Bravo squad when you were," Jonas paused for a second, "indisposed."
"Right, right." Mack nodded. "So you made the squad and then left? Not many people leave the Unit and those that do usually don't come back. Actually, they rarely get let back in after quitting. How did you manage it?"
Mack's tone was genial, but he could tell Dean wasn't feeling similarly lighthearted. Something in his demeanor told Mack he'd touched a nerve. The expression on Jonas' face told him there wasn't an easy way out of this.
"Actually, Dean..."
"I've got this, Jonas," Dean interrupted, finally speaking up. His voice had a low and slightly raspy quality to it, as if every word had the veil of a threat behind it. "My father went missing and I was given leave to go look for him."
Mack raised his eyebrows. "Went missing? So the police couldn't find him?"
"My Dad used to be in the Corps. He didn't exactly live the white picket fence lifestyle so the police weren't going to be helpful in finding him."
Mack nodded. They had all taken on missions off the meter at some point and there were always risks involved. "Past tense... I take it it didn't go well."
Dean's mouth was a grim line. "No. But it's over now and I'm back. Had to pull a few strings. Jonas here helped." He nodded at Jonas. "Ryan too. I guess it helps when people actually want you back."
Jonas clapped him on the back. "You're a damn good soldier, Dean. If I had an opening on Alpha squad I'd have you on my team in a heartbeat."
"Thank you, sir," Dean said, relaxing slightly. He cocked his head back towards the hallway. "I should head out. Ryan's going to need my paperwork in the morning." He gave Jonas a warm handshake and a smile, which Jonas returned. "See you around," Dean said, nodding to Mack.
"Yeah, see you." After Dean walked off, Mack scrubbed his face with his hands. "Man, I put my foot in that one."
Jonas led him back to the table where Mack picked up his beer again. "Dean can handle it."
"I'm sure he can," Mack said. "You wouldn't want him on Alpha team otherwise."
"No, I wouldn't," Jonas agreed.
"So he was gone for like a year or so then? It sucks that he spent all that time looking and his father wound up dead."
Jonas pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and sat down at the table with Mack.
"He didn't just find his father. He won't talk about it much, but a good portion of the time he was gone was recuperating in the hospital. My guess is he went after whoever was responsible and got himself messed up in the process."
Mack finished off his beer and sat, pensive.
"Damn..."
-
Sleep...
Sleep felt so damn good after a long mission. Not just the sleep itself, but that sense of being able to go off alert, to let the body and mind relax in the one safe haven - home.
Now sex, that was damn good after a long mission too, especially after sleep.
Especially waking up from sleep.
Mack didn't even open his eyes. The feel of lips encircling his cock under the sheets made his body hum with pleasure.
Groaning, he relaxed into the feel of gentle suction gradually becoming more avid.
This was just what he needed. He'd screw Tiffy later, but for now he couldn't think of anything better than just laying back and getting a fantastic blow job.
Feeling warm, he pushed the sheets down and froze.
The eyes looking up at him from above his cock weren't his wife's.
Long lashes fluttered as soft pink lips swallowed him whole.
Mack bolted up, shock awake in a split second.
The bed was empty.
Tiffy wandered out of the bathroom buttoning up her blouse.
"Good, you're awake. I need you to go to the hardware store today. The garbage disposal's busted again and I told you if it broke one more time you're buying me a new one..."
Her voice continued as she went to the closet to continue dressing, but Mack's thoughts were elsewhere.
He did not just dream Dean Winchester sucking him off.
Fuck...
-
The shooting range was a good place to work off frustration, especially when politics was keeping the teams grounded. While the colonel had promised a lift to the ban soon, in the interim too much Tiffy nagging and not enough action was making Mack agitated.
Automatic weapon fire would work wonders, but attract too much attention so Mack chose a sniper rifle and decided to take his time subtly shooting targets farther away so no one would notice how wound up he was.
After four boxes of bullets he didn't feel much better, but he shouldered the rifle anyway, figuring enough was enough. He still had most of the day to kill before the girls got home from school so he turned the sniper rifle back in and made his way to the break room.
A few Bravo team members were on their way out as he came in and they exchanged subtle head cocks in greeting. Mack had been kind of hoping for some camaraderie, but the place looked empty save the sound of a pistol being reassembled at a far table.
Mack knew that sound anywhere; he'd reassembled pistols in less than ten seconds flat his entire Army career. This one was fast, but not that fast. The back of the head was also unfamiliar at first until with a jolt - down lower than he'd like - he realized it was Dean.
Not wanting to drink so early in the day, Mack grabbed a bottle of soda out of the refrigerator and sauntered over to stand over the table where Dean was finishing dissembling the gun.
"Got rusty on your time off?" he asked, half smirking.
"Got messed up," Dean replied, more matter of fact than curt. He shrugged out of his lightweight jacket, baring the plain white undershirt he had on beneath it as well as a series of scars along his left arm, some of which seemed to flow under the shirt and emerge partway up his neck. "Just making sure there's no nerve damage, like the docs promised."
Once he had the gun disassembled he gathered the parts into a pile, mixed them up and then dropped them across the tabletop at random - rather than laying them out neatly - before he set himself to reassembling the gun as fast as possible.
Mack watched as Dean's hands flew, his green eyes actively scanning the table ahead of each piece he needed next, and felt a new sensation low in his gut: arousal.
He'd seen his fellow Rangers reassemble guns for years, but watching Dean do it was unexpectedly hot.
As Dean snapped the final piece into place and cocked the gun he looked up at Mack - eyes clear and undemanding yet with a hint of challenge in them.
"If you're damaged goods," Mack managed to get out, thankful his brain had more control than his body, flushed with interest, "then I'd hate to have run into you in a dark alley when you were at your peak."
Dean rose, holstering the weapon as he moved past Mack, skimming into his personal space despite how much room he had to get by.
"Oh, you wouldn't hate running into me in a dark alley. I'm told I'm lots of fun in them."
By the time the door clicked shut behind Dean's exit Mack's entire body was aflame, the want almost painful.
Taking a steadying breath he forced himself to sit down at the table Dean had vacated. He had time and a gun of his own to assemble and reassemble and it just might be enough to wipe the visual of Dean out of his head before he went to see his kids.
-
A long hot shower felt damn good after coming home from an op, but it wasn't bad after a long pickup basketball game either.
Mack let the hot water sluice down his body, feeling the rivulets run down his hypersensitive skin. He'd already soaped up and rinsed off so at this point he was just delaying the effort of drying off and dressing.
The pounding on his back felt good and he shifted slightly so the pummeling spray worked different sections of his back muscles.
After a while he realized everyone else had to have left because the normal locker room sounds of showers and banging and talking were all silent.
Then another shower was turned on a few stalls over.
Curious who was here so late, Mack finally turned his off, threw a towel around his waist and wandered over to see whose gear was still out.
The locker room benches were empty save one regulation duffle bag: only it wasn't Army regulation. The name on it said Winchester and Mack recalled Dean as saying his father had been in the Corps.
His feet led him to the shower stall where steam still rose up - unexpectedly from all four showerheads in the tiled group shower.
Dean emerged from under one of them, stark naked and soaking wet, hands pushing his wet hair back - his nude body on full display.
"Come to help?" Dean snarked, a crooked wolfish grin on his face. Mack didn't respond, still focused on Dean walking up to him so brazenly. Without hesitation Dean's hand reached out and pulled the towel off Mack, letting it fall at his feet. "If not…" Dean sidled in close, fingers dragging up the underside of Mack's suddenly very interested cock. "I'm pretty sure I can help you with this."
Mack woke with a start, almost painfully hard, Tiffy gently snoring beside him in bed.
He glanced at the clock; his alarm wasn't due to go off for another half hour.
Plenty of time to go take a shower and get his body off his mind or more accurately, get Dean's body off his mind.
-
Full dress uniform wasn't the most comfortable, but it sure as hell beat being waist deep in a snake infested river or buried in blood and muck in a battleground foxhole.
Still, Mack was looking forward to getting out of his monkey suit, using his discipline to not loosen his tie after the ceremony was over with and all the old timers were being schmoozed by those who still cared about climbing the ladder in the Army's chain of command.
Once he managed to extract himself from the crowds he worked his way back until he was able to slip away out of the hot sun into the cool shade, far from the brass milling around.
Apparently he wasn't the only one with this idea.
Dean was already leaning against the side of the building, smoking a cigarette and doing a damn good impression of James Dean doing it.
Unit members didn't normally smoke and if they did, it wasn't often. In their line of work a split second of slowness could mean life or death and not just your own, so everyone made sure to stay in top physical condition at all times.
Dean didn't speak at first, he just took a final drag and tipped his head back, blowing the smoke out in a long exhalation, lips pursed as if in a kiss as he did. Mack shifted, suddenly uncomfortable as the flush of interest meant a flush of blood to unfortunate places.
"Yeah, I know…" Dean said with a shrug, as if that was any sort of explanation or apology. "It's just every once in a while."
"Stuff'll kill you," Mack muttered, eyes busy drinking in how good Dean looked in a dress uniform. He cleaned up nicely: freshly shaven, fresh hair cut, yet still with that devil may care slouch underneath it.
"Yeah, but at least I'll die pretty," Dean mocked. He threw the cigarette butt down on the ground and put it out with a grind of his shoe. "Well, come on! Time to lecture me about the evils of smoking and the responsibilities of being your best out in the field so as to not get my fellow Unit members killed."
Mack just stared at him; he couldn't stay there and continue to fight his body's reaction to Dean yet he couldn't seem to leave either.
"No lecture," he finally said. "But join Alpha team and smoke? And I'll kick your ass."
Dean huffed out a chortle as he peeled himself off the wall. He swaggered over to Mack, who held his breath at Dean coming so close their bodies nearly brushed. Dean's breath was hot on his neck as he spoke into his ear, his voice a low rumble for only him.
"I'd like to see you try."
Mack closed his eyes and stood perfectly still until Dean was long gone.
Then he could breathe again.
-
Nobody enjoyed debriefing, but it had to be done - this one in particular.
They didn't do many ops with Bravo team and few of them had gone as poorly as this one. It seemed all their intel was bad and there was talk of perhaps even a leak that had led to the ambush.
No casualties, but plenty of injuries on both Alpha and Bravo - mostly minor, for gunshot wounds at least, but enough to keep them out of the field until everyone healed up. Anyone other than special forces would have ended the op in body bags; everyone had to bring their A game to get them out of there alive.
Mack took a drink of the water in front of him and continued on with his retelling of the engagement.
"So once we cleared a safe landing pad for the evac helo we had to get the wounded into it. Hector and Coots were providing cover as Jonas and I were loading Thompkins and Wirth into the helo. Grey and Winchester were flanking us, watching the other side of the mountain. Once I got inside the helo I could see five insurgents about to ambush Grey's position. He got off two shots, taking two of them down, but then he took a hit and went down himself. Winchester…" Mack hesitated at the still fresh memory and covered his pause with another drink of water. "He came at them with his rifle in one hand and handgun in another - cut all three of them down before they could get to Grey."
"But he left his position to do so?" Tom asked.
"Jonas had put out the call to evac so he just went to Grey first rather than come straight to the helo," Mack explained.
"What happened next?" Tom prompted.
"I was giving Coots and Hector a hand into the helo and when I looked back Winchester had Grey over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Didn't find out until later he'd gotten a second hit in the leg. Winchester and Grey were the last to load so we took off once they were onboard, with Winchester, Coots, Hector and myself laying down cover fire until we reached a safe altitude."
In truth, Dean didn't do anything Mack wouldn't have done himself, but without him Grey wouldn't have stood a chance. By the time Mack could have gotten a shot off from that distance it would have been too late for him.
There was something comforting in knowing Dean would do whatever it took to bring his teammates back.
But Mack couldn't help but replay that visual of Dean shooting, Dean hauling his injured teammate into the helicopter and Dean sweaty and dirty in fatigues looking like everything Mack wasn't supposed to want.
-
Jonas' backyard barbecues were always a good respite - even more so after an op gone bad.
With everyone out of the hospital and on the mend it seemed a good time to get the families together for a Saturday afternoon in the sun.
Jenny and Lissy were off chatting with Harper's daughters and Tiffy was holding court over the pool table in Jonas' rec room so Mack commandeered a prime seat and watched the array of Unit kids at play on the grass, missing his kids being young enough to join in the fun.
Dean had arrived escorting a knockout blonde, all curves and beauty queen smile. Mack thought he recognized her from one of the shops in town. Out of the corner of his eye he'd watched them as they socialized with the others. Dean had gotten her drinks, introduced her around, kept her in the conversation yet something felt off.
It took him a while to realize what was wrong: Dean never touched her.
He guided her with a hand hovering over the small of her back or put an arm around her chair, but not her shoulders.
She initiated contact from time to time - teasing flirting touches that kept up the charade that they were there on a date, but even those faded over time along with the proximity of them sitting together.
When she wandered off to talk with some of the other woman, Dean plopped down in the chair next to Mack with his beer bottle, letting out a contented sigh.
"So am I a freak for being impatient to get back out there?" Dean asked with a wry grin. "I joined the Unit for some action and get benched almost right off the bat!"
"We're lucky to be alive," Mack muttered. "I sure as hell don't want to go out into the field again if our intel's going to be compromised."
"Not lucky," Dean corrected with a raising of his bottle in salute. "Damn good. And it's in the brass' interest to not get us killed. Rangers aren't made every day, you know?"
Mack shifted in his chair to face Dean.
"I've been meaning to ask you something."
"Shoot," Dean responded, clearly open.
"You said your father had been in the Marine Corps." At the mention of his father Dean's face darkened, all his normal smirk wiped away at once. "Yet you joined the Army. Almost every guy who follows a relative into the military joins the same branch of the service. You didn't. Why?"
Dean turned the beer bottle in his hand for a second or two before answering. "Maybe my Dad was too good at what he did. Maybe I wanted a chance to make something of myself without having to always be compared to him." Dean rose, a little stiffly and Mack regretted making him leave like that. "You know, I'd best go rescue my date before the wives scare her off."
-
Being grounded only made the attraction worse.
There was plenty to do on base and they did need to keep up appearances for the sake of their cover, so the colonel had set them in intensive language training, upping their fluency in the ones they already knew and adding basic fluency in a few up and coming languages the brass felt they might need on future missions.
Whether Dean was sitting beside him in Arabic or Mandarin, he made it harder for Mack to concentrate.
Trying desperately to hide his interest, Mack's interactions with Dean started coming out more cool, then almost icy, then bordering on hostile. At one point Jonas gave him a look and Mack had to back down rather than risk drawing unwanted attention to the building energy between them.
Dean, for his part, started off confused - and perhaps a little hurt, though that might have been just in Mack's imagination - then ended up annoyed and finally pissed off.
Mack hadn't intended on it going that far, but when Dean abruptly stormed out of the break room at yet another of Mack's brusque comments, he knew he'd finally gone too far.
The room went silent for a moment then everyone went back to what they were doing, albeit more sedately than before the confrontation.
Jonas discreetly pulled him aside.
"I don't know what your beef is with Winchester," he said in a low voice. "But work it out." When Mack just looked at him, Jonas raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry, did I neglect to say the word 'now'?"
Mack huffed, finished off the last of his beer and tossed his empty in the recycle bin.
"Yes, sir," he huffed out as he put his jacket on. "I'll get right on that."
"You do that, son," Jonas said with a smile. "Can't have my boys not playing nice with each other, now can I?"
They shared a little chuckle. Jonas was good about leading without giving orders, always trusting them to deal with things outside official channels.
As he headed out the door, trying to guess where Dean might have gone, it hit him that perhaps Jonas knew more than he let on. It wasn't exactly top secret knowledge that he and Tiffy had been at odds for a long time now, but Mack was resigned to his marriage at least as long as it took to get the girls into college. He took his obligations seriously and even though Tiffy had made his marriage vows damn near impossible to keep, his loyalty to his daughters meant he'd put up with her as long as it took for them to have a stable home to grow up in.
They didn't need to know their parents had fallen out of love. They didn't need to know their father wasn't who they thought he was. And they certainly didn't need to know their father had been spending weeks fantasizing about being with a man.
-
Mack's footsteps rang hollow in the little used storeroom and if it hadn't been for the crack of light under the door he'd seen before entering he'd have thought he was alone.
The remote room had long been a haven for the base's secret smokers, as evidenced by the lack of a lock on the door and the mostly full ashtrays in the back.
Even now a plume of gray smoke filtered through the light above the full shelves, leading him to where he assumed it was Dean doing the smoking.
He had to turn the corner before he saw Dean sitting on top of a packing crate - the picture of coiled energy waiting to spring, looking every bit as frustrated as Mack had felt earlier in the break room.
"You!" Dean smashed his cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and jumped down, coming right at Mack. It was so unexpected Mack's back hit the wall before he realized Dean had been the one to slam him into it. "What the fuck is your problem? Why the hell do you keep riding me?"
The soldier in Mack finally kicked in and in one fluid move he flipped them, pressing Dean into the wall with his body.
Full contact - so abruptly and so fully - swamped him, all of his reserve blown by the feel of the hard body he'd so coveted melded against his own.
A quick glance at Dean's face - a wild mix of confusion, fear and raw desire - slammed into his gut, shocking him. Any thoughts of why Dean might also want this evaporated as he brought his mouth down on Dean's, kissing him hard.
Dean all but flew off the wall, but not to get away. The flurry of hands on Mack's body was lightning fast and his head spun with the heady sensations of Dean's lethal hands touching him, worming under his clothes, seeking out his skin.
The kiss broke when Dean's hand grazed his crotch, a helpless groan erupting from his throat at how much better the reality of Dean stroking him was than the fantasy.
Then Dean's hand was at the back of his neck, dragging him in for a round of violent kisses as those hands moved to strip him. Clothing flew and Mack only dimly registered his own hands all but ripping Dean's clothes off. That honey tawny skin, bare to his eyes, muscles rippling under his calloused hands… Mack's hunger was voracious and matched only by Dean's apparently.
Two handfuls of Dean's taut round ass and they were moving against each other, breathless in their groans as they fell into a frantic groove - each thrusting against the other, seeking release so wantonly they were like animals, driven by a long gnawing hunger.
And then Dean shoved him back, startling him, pushing him over to a nearby crate. Mack didn't get a chance to get a word out before Dean was scrabbling in his pants pocket on the floor returning with a condom packet and a packet of lubricant that he slapped on the crate next to Mack.
Dean grabbed Mack by the back of his neck and dragged him into a bruising kiss.
"Do it," he hissed into Mack's mouth. "You can't tell me you don't want to." Dean punctuated his command by dropping to his knees and sucking Mack into his mouth.
Mack leaned back against the crate, head thrown back as his mouth gaped in a wordless howl. Forget dreams, forget fantasy… Dean was better than all that.
He almost lost it, but Dean pulled off as quickly as he started, giving Mack an opening to flip them again, laying out Dean over the crate.
He hadn't done this since before he married Tiffy, but some things were like assembling a M1911 semi-automatic pistol: you could do them no matter what, even in the dark, and sucking cock was one of those things.
The moan he pulled out of Dean was straight out of a porn movie and it went straight to Mack's cock. The no longer familiar saltiness exploded on his tongue - a bitter aphrodisiac for an illicit liaison. Impatient, he pulled away, flipping Dean and bending him over the crate.
Nimble fingers ripped open the packages, prepared both of them and Mack only had those few seconds to indulge the one tiny part of his brain that was still screaming what a bad idea this was and then it was gone.
Mack watched his cock sink slowly into Dean's ass, shaking from head to toe at the sheer intensity of that insanely tight heat gripping him, and then the animal craving in him took over.
He slammed into Dean, hands gripping hard enough to bruise, but the force of Dean pushing back to meet him was like a revelation. The violence, the raw desperate fucking, it was like the best drug ever - leaving him delirious, wanting more, needing it to never stop, keening to hear Dean curse his name as he braced himself for more.
Some part of his brain had to still be functioning because he felt his hand move to push Dean's fingers away from his own cock, taking over for him in rapid almost careless strokes.
He pulled Dean up against him, his broad back against Mack's heaving chest and felt him go taut in his arms. Dean's muscles clenched around his cock and Mack went rigid, vision going white as he exploded, a garbled yell strangled in his throat as his entire body felt an electric jolt go through it.
For a second he floated apart from it all, almost out of his body in a post-orgasmic haze, and then they were collapsing in a heap on the floor, a tangle of limbs, panting.
The cold concrete was a wake up call and Mack skittered away, barely remembering to deal with his condom. He blinked at the mess that was the storeroom: clothing strewn everywhere, things knocked over… He felt almost sick at losing control like that, the buzz of sex fading fast.
Dean just pulled another cigarette from his pack, lit it and took a long drag.
"Well..." He blew smoke into the air, relaxing completely naked on the floor as if they hadn't just done something horribly wrong. "I'm glad we got that straightened out."
-
Mack stared up at the ceiling, sheets barely covering his body in the warm summer night, thoughts running nonstop despite it being the wee hours of the morning.
He'd tried to do the right thing: after giving in to temptation with Dean he retreated, keeping his distance and spending whatever spare time he had with his girls - so much so they complained of being smothered. He'd even tried to make a go of things with Tiffy.
And then he'd found out about her and Tom.
Mack wasn't sure which betrayal hit hardest: his wife sleeping with another man or his C.O. sending him out on life or death missions while he was subverting his home life, his one true respite in the world.
Dean had been long gone by then. He'd gotten shot saving the life of the Bravo team leader and opted for the honorable discharge once he got out of the hospital rather than reup and stay in the Unit. Word was he had a brother in trouble and family came before the Unit - or at least it was supposed to in Mack's view.
Everything had changed now. He'd started the paperwork to divorce Tiffy, had a talk with the girls and made it clear to them they came first and taken a brief leave from the Unit to get his head on straight before he let anyone put their life in his hands.
Besides, he had to decide what to do about Tom. Every fiber of his being wanted to kill him, but the father in him - the man who loved his children and wanted them to be proud of him, to be there for them - gave him pause.
The motel was in the middle of nowhere Louisiana, where it was sticky hot during the day even with air conditioning, but the night had brought a nice breeze and it played along his exposed skin, cooling it.
He'd gone to see Dean in the hospital when he was recovering and they'd reached a sort of peace. The chemistry was still there, but Dean didn't push Mack to do anything about it. Mack was still haunted by dreams of Dean - him naked, him sprawled out across a bed, him submitting to Mack's desires - but he was even more haunted by nightmares of custody battles, lawyer worries causing him to make mistakes in the field, saying goodbye to his beloved daughters as their mother took them away with full custody and no visitation rights…
Save Jonas, there wasn't anyone left in the world Mack felt he could really trust and that had left him alone and wandering in his travels.
In a way it made sense to reach out, find a number to call, look in the one place where he knew he could find a respite of forgetfulness.
Dean rolled over and skimmed a hand down Mack's torso, rubbing it low across his abdomen.
"You're thinking again," he murmured, eyeing Mack warily. "I'm pretty sure we both agreed that was a bad idea."
Mack rolled to face him, moving in close, their legs twining easily beneath the sheets as the heat between them began to spark and build yet again.
He passed a rough thumb across the pink of Dean's lower lip before kissing him greedily, indulging himself in Dean's flavor: echoes of mint gum and cigarettes and Mack on his tongue.
"Take me out of my head," Mack rasped, nipping his way down Dean's jawline.
Dean pressed him into the mattress, covering him with his body before sliding down his torso, looking up at Mack from beneath those long lashes, licking his lips as he went.
"Gladly."
- - -
Title: Hazardous Duty
Pairing/Characters: Mack/Dean, Tiffy, Jonas, Tom
Rating: NC17
Spoilers: Season 1 (Supernatural), Season 1 (The Unit)
Summary: Mack can't stop thinking about new Unit soldier Dean Winchester
Notes/Warnings: Read the disclaimer on my LJ
"Mack! Come over here. I want you to meet someone."
Jonas beckoned to him across the break room and Mack rose obediently and joined his team leader by the doorway.
"This is Master Sergeant Dean Winchester. He's new on Bravo team, well, rejoining after an absence."
"Winchester, huh?" Mack said thoughtfully as he shook the man's hand. He looked almost too pretty to be in the military, with girly eyelashes and full pink lips, but his handshake was all Army. "I think I must have missed you somehow."
"Dean was on the Bravo squad when you were," Jonas paused for a second, "indisposed."
"Right, right." Mack nodded. "So you made the squad and then left? Not many people leave the Unit and those that do usually don't come back. Actually, they rarely get let back in after quitting. How did you manage it?"
Mack's tone was genial, but he could tell Dean wasn't feeling similarly lighthearted. Something in his demeanor told Mack he'd touched a nerve. The expression on Jonas' face told him there wasn't an easy way out of this.
"Actually, Dean..."
"I've got this, Jonas," Dean interrupted, finally speaking up. His voice had a low and slightly raspy quality to it, as if every word had the veil of a threat behind it. "My father went missing and I was given leave to go look for him."
Mack raised his eyebrows. "Went missing? So the police couldn't find him?"
"My Dad used to be in the Corps. He didn't exactly live the white picket fence lifestyle so the police weren't going to be helpful in finding him."
Mack nodded. They had all taken on missions off the meter at some point and there were always risks involved. "Past tense... I take it it didn't go well."
Dean's mouth was a grim line. "No. But it's over now and I'm back. Had to pull a few strings. Jonas here helped." He nodded at Jonas. "Ryan too. I guess it helps when people actually want you back."
Jonas clapped him on the back. "You're a damn good soldier, Dean. If I had an opening on Alpha squad I'd have you on my team in a heartbeat."
"Thank you, sir," Dean said, relaxing slightly. He cocked his head back towards the hallway. "I should head out. Ryan's going to need my paperwork in the morning." He gave Jonas a warm handshake and a smile, which Jonas returned. "See you around," Dean said, nodding to Mack.
"Yeah, see you." After Dean walked off, Mack scrubbed his face with his hands. "Man, I put my foot in that one."
Jonas led him back to the table where Mack picked up his beer again. "Dean can handle it."
"I'm sure he can," Mack said. "You wouldn't want him on Alpha team otherwise."
"No, I wouldn't," Jonas agreed.
"So he was gone for like a year or so then? It sucks that he spent all that time looking and his father wound up dead."
Jonas pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and sat down at the table with Mack.
"He didn't just find his father. He won't talk about it much, but a good portion of the time he was gone was recuperating in the hospital. My guess is he went after whoever was responsible and got himself messed up in the process."
Mack finished off his beer and sat, pensive.
"Damn..."
-
Sleep...
Sleep felt so damn good after a long mission. Not just the sleep itself, but that sense of being able to go off alert, to let the body and mind relax in the one safe haven - home.
Now sex, that was damn good after a long mission too, especially after sleep.
Especially waking up from sleep.
Mack didn't even open his eyes. The feel of lips encircling his cock under the sheets made his body hum with pleasure.
Groaning, he relaxed into the feel of gentle suction gradually becoming more avid.
This was just what he needed. He'd screw Tiffy later, but for now he couldn't think of anything better than just laying back and getting a fantastic blow job.
Feeling warm, he pushed the sheets down and froze.
The eyes looking up at him from above his cock weren't his wife's.
Long lashes fluttered as soft pink lips swallowed him whole.
Mack bolted up, shock awake in a split second.
The bed was empty.
Tiffy wandered out of the bathroom buttoning up her blouse.
"Good, you're awake. I need you to go to the hardware store today. The garbage disposal's busted again and I told you if it broke one more time you're buying me a new one..."
Her voice continued as she went to the closet to continue dressing, but Mack's thoughts were elsewhere.
He did not just dream Dean Winchester sucking him off.
Fuck...
-
The shooting range was a good place to work off frustration, especially when politics was keeping the teams grounded. While the colonel had promised a lift to the ban soon, in the interim too much Tiffy nagging and not enough action was making Mack agitated.
Automatic weapon fire would work wonders, but attract too much attention so Mack chose a sniper rifle and decided to take his time subtly shooting targets farther away so no one would notice how wound up he was.
After four boxes of bullets he didn't feel much better, but he shouldered the rifle anyway, figuring enough was enough. He still had most of the day to kill before the girls got home from school so he turned the sniper rifle back in and made his way to the break room.
A few Bravo team members were on their way out as he came in and they exchanged subtle head cocks in greeting. Mack had been kind of hoping for some camaraderie, but the place looked empty save the sound of a pistol being reassembled at a far table.
Mack knew that sound anywhere; he'd reassembled pistols in less than ten seconds flat his entire Army career. This one was fast, but not that fast. The back of the head was also unfamiliar at first until with a jolt - down lower than he'd like - he realized it was Dean.
Not wanting to drink so early in the day, Mack grabbed a bottle of soda out of the refrigerator and sauntered over to stand over the table where Dean was finishing dissembling the gun.
"Got rusty on your time off?" he asked, half smirking.
"Got messed up," Dean replied, more matter of fact than curt. He shrugged out of his lightweight jacket, baring the plain white undershirt he had on beneath it as well as a series of scars along his left arm, some of which seemed to flow under the shirt and emerge partway up his neck. "Just making sure there's no nerve damage, like the docs promised."
Once he had the gun disassembled he gathered the parts into a pile, mixed them up and then dropped them across the tabletop at random - rather than laying them out neatly - before he set himself to reassembling the gun as fast as possible.
Mack watched as Dean's hands flew, his green eyes actively scanning the table ahead of each piece he needed next, and felt a new sensation low in his gut: arousal.
He'd seen his fellow Rangers reassemble guns for years, but watching Dean do it was unexpectedly hot.
As Dean snapped the final piece into place and cocked the gun he looked up at Mack - eyes clear and undemanding yet with a hint of challenge in them.
"If you're damaged goods," Mack managed to get out, thankful his brain had more control than his body, flushed with interest, "then I'd hate to have run into you in a dark alley when you were at your peak."
Dean rose, holstering the weapon as he moved past Mack, skimming into his personal space despite how much room he had to get by.
"Oh, you wouldn't hate running into me in a dark alley. I'm told I'm lots of fun in them."
By the time the door clicked shut behind Dean's exit Mack's entire body was aflame, the want almost painful.
Taking a steadying breath he forced himself to sit down at the table Dean had vacated. He had time and a gun of his own to assemble and reassemble and it just might be enough to wipe the visual of Dean out of his head before he went to see his kids.
-
A long hot shower felt damn good after coming home from an op, but it wasn't bad after a long pickup basketball game either.
Mack let the hot water sluice down his body, feeling the rivulets run down his hypersensitive skin. He'd already soaped up and rinsed off so at this point he was just delaying the effort of drying off and dressing.
The pounding on his back felt good and he shifted slightly so the pummeling spray worked different sections of his back muscles.
After a while he realized everyone else had to have left because the normal locker room sounds of showers and banging and talking were all silent.
Then another shower was turned on a few stalls over.
Curious who was here so late, Mack finally turned his off, threw a towel around his waist and wandered over to see whose gear was still out.
The locker room benches were empty save one regulation duffle bag: only it wasn't Army regulation. The name on it said Winchester and Mack recalled Dean as saying his father had been in the Corps.
His feet led him to the shower stall where steam still rose up - unexpectedly from all four showerheads in the tiled group shower.
Dean emerged from under one of them, stark naked and soaking wet, hands pushing his wet hair back - his nude body on full display.
"Come to help?" Dean snarked, a crooked wolfish grin on his face. Mack didn't respond, still focused on Dean walking up to him so brazenly. Without hesitation Dean's hand reached out and pulled the towel off Mack, letting it fall at his feet. "If not…" Dean sidled in close, fingers dragging up the underside of Mack's suddenly very interested cock. "I'm pretty sure I can help you with this."
Mack woke with a start, almost painfully hard, Tiffy gently snoring beside him in bed.
He glanced at the clock; his alarm wasn't due to go off for another half hour.
Plenty of time to go take a shower and get his body off his mind or more accurately, get Dean's body off his mind.
-
Full dress uniform wasn't the most comfortable, but it sure as hell beat being waist deep in a snake infested river or buried in blood and muck in a battleground foxhole.
Still, Mack was looking forward to getting out of his monkey suit, using his discipline to not loosen his tie after the ceremony was over with and all the old timers were being schmoozed by those who still cared about climbing the ladder in the Army's chain of command.
Once he managed to extract himself from the crowds he worked his way back until he was able to slip away out of the hot sun into the cool shade, far from the brass milling around.
Apparently he wasn't the only one with this idea.
Dean was already leaning against the side of the building, smoking a cigarette and doing a damn good impression of James Dean doing it.
Unit members didn't normally smoke and if they did, it wasn't often. In their line of work a split second of slowness could mean life or death and not just your own, so everyone made sure to stay in top physical condition at all times.
Dean didn't speak at first, he just took a final drag and tipped his head back, blowing the smoke out in a long exhalation, lips pursed as if in a kiss as he did. Mack shifted, suddenly uncomfortable as the flush of interest meant a flush of blood to unfortunate places.
"Yeah, I know…" Dean said with a shrug, as if that was any sort of explanation or apology. "It's just every once in a while."
"Stuff'll kill you," Mack muttered, eyes busy drinking in how good Dean looked in a dress uniform. He cleaned up nicely: freshly shaven, fresh hair cut, yet still with that devil may care slouch underneath it.
"Yeah, but at least I'll die pretty," Dean mocked. He threw the cigarette butt down on the ground and put it out with a grind of his shoe. "Well, come on! Time to lecture me about the evils of smoking and the responsibilities of being your best out in the field so as to not get my fellow Unit members killed."
Mack just stared at him; he couldn't stay there and continue to fight his body's reaction to Dean yet he couldn't seem to leave either.
"No lecture," he finally said. "But join Alpha team and smoke? And I'll kick your ass."
Dean huffed out a chortle as he peeled himself off the wall. He swaggered over to Mack, who held his breath at Dean coming so close their bodies nearly brushed. Dean's breath was hot on his neck as he spoke into his ear, his voice a low rumble for only him.
"I'd like to see you try."
Mack closed his eyes and stood perfectly still until Dean was long gone.
Then he could breathe again.
-
Nobody enjoyed debriefing, but it had to be done - this one in particular.
They didn't do many ops with Bravo team and few of them had gone as poorly as this one. It seemed all their intel was bad and there was talk of perhaps even a leak that had led to the ambush.
No casualties, but plenty of injuries on both Alpha and Bravo - mostly minor, for gunshot wounds at least, but enough to keep them out of the field until everyone healed up. Anyone other than special forces would have ended the op in body bags; everyone had to bring their A game to get them out of there alive.
Mack took a drink of the water in front of him and continued on with his retelling of the engagement.
"So once we cleared a safe landing pad for the evac helo we had to get the wounded into it. Hector and Coots were providing cover as Jonas and I were loading Thompkins and Wirth into the helo. Grey and Winchester were flanking us, watching the other side of the mountain. Once I got inside the helo I could see five insurgents about to ambush Grey's position. He got off two shots, taking two of them down, but then he took a hit and went down himself. Winchester…" Mack hesitated at the still fresh memory and covered his pause with another drink of water. "He came at them with his rifle in one hand and handgun in another - cut all three of them down before they could get to Grey."
"But he left his position to do so?" Tom asked.
"Jonas had put out the call to evac so he just went to Grey first rather than come straight to the helo," Mack explained.
"What happened next?" Tom prompted.
"I was giving Coots and Hector a hand into the helo and when I looked back Winchester had Grey over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Didn't find out until later he'd gotten a second hit in the leg. Winchester and Grey were the last to load so we took off once they were onboard, with Winchester, Coots, Hector and myself laying down cover fire until we reached a safe altitude."
In truth, Dean didn't do anything Mack wouldn't have done himself, but without him Grey wouldn't have stood a chance. By the time Mack could have gotten a shot off from that distance it would have been too late for him.
There was something comforting in knowing Dean would do whatever it took to bring his teammates back.
But Mack couldn't help but replay that visual of Dean shooting, Dean hauling his injured teammate into the helicopter and Dean sweaty and dirty in fatigues looking like everything Mack wasn't supposed to want.
-
Jonas' backyard barbecues were always a good respite - even more so after an op gone bad.
With everyone out of the hospital and on the mend it seemed a good time to get the families together for a Saturday afternoon in the sun.
Jenny and Lissy were off chatting with Harper's daughters and Tiffy was holding court over the pool table in Jonas' rec room so Mack commandeered a prime seat and watched the array of Unit kids at play on the grass, missing his kids being young enough to join in the fun.
Dean had arrived escorting a knockout blonde, all curves and beauty queen smile. Mack thought he recognized her from one of the shops in town. Out of the corner of his eye he'd watched them as they socialized with the others. Dean had gotten her drinks, introduced her around, kept her in the conversation yet something felt off.
It took him a while to realize what was wrong: Dean never touched her.
He guided her with a hand hovering over the small of her back or put an arm around her chair, but not her shoulders.
She initiated contact from time to time - teasing flirting touches that kept up the charade that they were there on a date, but even those faded over time along with the proximity of them sitting together.
When she wandered off to talk with some of the other woman, Dean plopped down in the chair next to Mack with his beer bottle, letting out a contented sigh.
"So am I a freak for being impatient to get back out there?" Dean asked with a wry grin. "I joined the Unit for some action and get benched almost right off the bat!"
"We're lucky to be alive," Mack muttered. "I sure as hell don't want to go out into the field again if our intel's going to be compromised."
"Not lucky," Dean corrected with a raising of his bottle in salute. "Damn good. And it's in the brass' interest to not get us killed. Rangers aren't made every day, you know?"
Mack shifted in his chair to face Dean.
"I've been meaning to ask you something."
"Shoot," Dean responded, clearly open.
"You said your father had been in the Marine Corps." At the mention of his father Dean's face darkened, all his normal smirk wiped away at once. "Yet you joined the Army. Almost every guy who follows a relative into the military joins the same branch of the service. You didn't. Why?"
Dean turned the beer bottle in his hand for a second or two before answering. "Maybe my Dad was too good at what he did. Maybe I wanted a chance to make something of myself without having to always be compared to him." Dean rose, a little stiffly and Mack regretted making him leave like that. "You know, I'd best go rescue my date before the wives scare her off."
-
Being grounded only made the attraction worse.
There was plenty to do on base and they did need to keep up appearances for the sake of their cover, so the colonel had set them in intensive language training, upping their fluency in the ones they already knew and adding basic fluency in a few up and coming languages the brass felt they might need on future missions.
Whether Dean was sitting beside him in Arabic or Mandarin, he made it harder for Mack to concentrate.
Trying desperately to hide his interest, Mack's interactions with Dean started coming out more cool, then almost icy, then bordering on hostile. At one point Jonas gave him a look and Mack had to back down rather than risk drawing unwanted attention to the building energy between them.
Dean, for his part, started off confused - and perhaps a little hurt, though that might have been just in Mack's imagination - then ended up annoyed and finally pissed off.
Mack hadn't intended on it going that far, but when Dean abruptly stormed out of the break room at yet another of Mack's brusque comments, he knew he'd finally gone too far.
The room went silent for a moment then everyone went back to what they were doing, albeit more sedately than before the confrontation.
Jonas discreetly pulled him aside.
"I don't know what your beef is with Winchester," he said in a low voice. "But work it out." When Mack just looked at him, Jonas raised an eyebrow at him. "I'm sorry, did I neglect to say the word 'now'?"
Mack huffed, finished off the last of his beer and tossed his empty in the recycle bin.
"Yes, sir," he huffed out as he put his jacket on. "I'll get right on that."
"You do that, son," Jonas said with a smile. "Can't have my boys not playing nice with each other, now can I?"
They shared a little chuckle. Jonas was good about leading without giving orders, always trusting them to deal with things outside official channels.
As he headed out the door, trying to guess where Dean might have gone, it hit him that perhaps Jonas knew more than he let on. It wasn't exactly top secret knowledge that he and Tiffy had been at odds for a long time now, but Mack was resigned to his marriage at least as long as it took to get the girls into college. He took his obligations seriously and even though Tiffy had made his marriage vows damn near impossible to keep, his loyalty to his daughters meant he'd put up with her as long as it took for them to have a stable home to grow up in.
They didn't need to know their parents had fallen out of love. They didn't need to know their father wasn't who they thought he was. And they certainly didn't need to know their father had been spending weeks fantasizing about being with a man.
-
Mack's footsteps rang hollow in the little used storeroom and if it hadn't been for the crack of light under the door he'd seen before entering he'd have thought he was alone.
The remote room had long been a haven for the base's secret smokers, as evidenced by the lack of a lock on the door and the mostly full ashtrays in the back.
Even now a plume of gray smoke filtered through the light above the full shelves, leading him to where he assumed it was Dean doing the smoking.
He had to turn the corner before he saw Dean sitting on top of a packing crate - the picture of coiled energy waiting to spring, looking every bit as frustrated as Mack had felt earlier in the break room.
"You!" Dean smashed his cigarette out in the nearest ashtray and jumped down, coming right at Mack. It was so unexpected Mack's back hit the wall before he realized Dean had been the one to slam him into it. "What the fuck is your problem? Why the hell do you keep riding me?"
The soldier in Mack finally kicked in and in one fluid move he flipped them, pressing Dean into the wall with his body.
Full contact - so abruptly and so fully - swamped him, all of his reserve blown by the feel of the hard body he'd so coveted melded against his own.
A quick glance at Dean's face - a wild mix of confusion, fear and raw desire - slammed into his gut, shocking him. Any thoughts of why Dean might also want this evaporated as he brought his mouth down on Dean's, kissing him hard.
Dean all but flew off the wall, but not to get away. The flurry of hands on Mack's body was lightning fast and his head spun with the heady sensations of Dean's lethal hands touching him, worming under his clothes, seeking out his skin.
The kiss broke when Dean's hand grazed his crotch, a helpless groan erupting from his throat at how much better the reality of Dean stroking him was than the fantasy.
Then Dean's hand was at the back of his neck, dragging him in for a round of violent kisses as those hands moved to strip him. Clothing flew and Mack only dimly registered his own hands all but ripping Dean's clothes off. That honey tawny skin, bare to his eyes, muscles rippling under his calloused hands… Mack's hunger was voracious and matched only by Dean's apparently.
Two handfuls of Dean's taut round ass and they were moving against each other, breathless in their groans as they fell into a frantic groove - each thrusting against the other, seeking release so wantonly they were like animals, driven by a long gnawing hunger.
And then Dean shoved him back, startling him, pushing him over to a nearby crate. Mack didn't get a chance to get a word out before Dean was scrabbling in his pants pocket on the floor returning with a condom packet and a packet of lubricant that he slapped on the crate next to Mack.
Dean grabbed Mack by the back of his neck and dragged him into a bruising kiss.
"Do it," he hissed into Mack's mouth. "You can't tell me you don't want to." Dean punctuated his command by dropping to his knees and sucking Mack into his mouth.
Mack leaned back against the crate, head thrown back as his mouth gaped in a wordless howl. Forget dreams, forget fantasy… Dean was better than all that.
He almost lost it, but Dean pulled off as quickly as he started, giving Mack an opening to flip them again, laying out Dean over the crate.
He hadn't done this since before he married Tiffy, but some things were like assembling a M1911 semi-automatic pistol: you could do them no matter what, even in the dark, and sucking cock was one of those things.
The moan he pulled out of Dean was straight out of a porn movie and it went straight to Mack's cock. The no longer familiar saltiness exploded on his tongue - a bitter aphrodisiac for an illicit liaison. Impatient, he pulled away, flipping Dean and bending him over the crate.
Nimble fingers ripped open the packages, prepared both of them and Mack only had those few seconds to indulge the one tiny part of his brain that was still screaming what a bad idea this was and then it was gone.
Mack watched his cock sink slowly into Dean's ass, shaking from head to toe at the sheer intensity of that insanely tight heat gripping him, and then the animal craving in him took over.
He slammed into Dean, hands gripping hard enough to bruise, but the force of Dean pushing back to meet him was like a revelation. The violence, the raw desperate fucking, it was like the best drug ever - leaving him delirious, wanting more, needing it to never stop, keening to hear Dean curse his name as he braced himself for more.
Some part of his brain had to still be functioning because he felt his hand move to push Dean's fingers away from his own cock, taking over for him in rapid almost careless strokes.
He pulled Dean up against him, his broad back against Mack's heaving chest and felt him go taut in his arms. Dean's muscles clenched around his cock and Mack went rigid, vision going white as he exploded, a garbled yell strangled in his throat as his entire body felt an electric jolt go through it.
For a second he floated apart from it all, almost out of his body in a post-orgasmic haze, and then they were collapsing in a heap on the floor, a tangle of limbs, panting.
The cold concrete was a wake up call and Mack skittered away, barely remembering to deal with his condom. He blinked at the mess that was the storeroom: clothing strewn everywhere, things knocked over… He felt almost sick at losing control like that, the buzz of sex fading fast.
Dean just pulled another cigarette from his pack, lit it and took a long drag.
"Well..." He blew smoke into the air, relaxing completely naked on the floor as if they hadn't just done something horribly wrong. "I'm glad we got that straightened out."
-
Mack stared up at the ceiling, sheets barely covering his body in the warm summer night, thoughts running nonstop despite it being the wee hours of the morning.
He'd tried to do the right thing: after giving in to temptation with Dean he retreated, keeping his distance and spending whatever spare time he had with his girls - so much so they complained of being smothered. He'd even tried to make a go of things with Tiffy.
And then he'd found out about her and Tom.
Mack wasn't sure which betrayal hit hardest: his wife sleeping with another man or his C.O. sending him out on life or death missions while he was subverting his home life, his one true respite in the world.
Dean had been long gone by then. He'd gotten shot saving the life of the Bravo team leader and opted for the honorable discharge once he got out of the hospital rather than reup and stay in the Unit. Word was he had a brother in trouble and family came before the Unit - or at least it was supposed to in Mack's view.
Everything had changed now. He'd started the paperwork to divorce Tiffy, had a talk with the girls and made it clear to them they came first and taken a brief leave from the Unit to get his head on straight before he let anyone put their life in his hands.
Besides, he had to decide what to do about Tom. Every fiber of his being wanted to kill him, but the father in him - the man who loved his children and wanted them to be proud of him, to be there for them - gave him pause.
The motel was in the middle of nowhere Louisiana, where it was sticky hot during the day even with air conditioning, but the night had brought a nice breeze and it played along his exposed skin, cooling it.
He'd gone to see Dean in the hospital when he was recovering and they'd reached a sort of peace. The chemistry was still there, but Dean didn't push Mack to do anything about it. Mack was still haunted by dreams of Dean - him naked, him sprawled out across a bed, him submitting to Mack's desires - but he was even more haunted by nightmares of custody battles, lawyer worries causing him to make mistakes in the field, saying goodbye to his beloved daughters as their mother took them away with full custody and no visitation rights…
Save Jonas, there wasn't anyone left in the world Mack felt he could really trust and that had left him alone and wandering in his travels.
In a way it made sense to reach out, find a number to call, look in the one place where he knew he could find a respite of forgetfulness.
Dean rolled over and skimmed a hand down Mack's torso, rubbing it low across his abdomen.
"You're thinking again," he murmured, eyeing Mack warily. "I'm pretty sure we both agreed that was a bad idea."
Mack rolled to face him, moving in close, their legs twining easily beneath the sheets as the heat between them began to spark and build yet again.
He passed a rough thumb across the pink of Dean's lower lip before kissing him greedily, indulging himself in Dean's flavor: echoes of mint gum and cigarettes and Mack on his tongue.
"Take me out of my head," Mack rasped, nipping his way down Dean's jawline.
Dean pressed him into the mattress, covering him with his body before sliding down his torso, looking up at Mack from beneath those long lashes, licking his lips as he went.
"Gladly."
- - -