(FIC) Wishful Thinking (1/1)
Well, the whole infiltration job doesn’t exactly go to plan… Also, the whole infiltration job seems to have included a lot more destruction than I remember planning for.
Bad news: Giant falling metal things, headed for yours truly. Good news: Roadblock and me getting under enough of the Coyote to save our skins.
And in the weird and/or annoying column, Roadblock’s excessive love of what is, essentially, a Cobra vehicle, no matter how useful it is. I mean, I like not being squished as much as the next guy, but…
I don’t know, I guess after making a desperate dive for my life, I’d like the guy who lands right next to me to ask me if I’m okay, not rhapsodize about how hot his truck is.
Not that I’m jealous, I am not going to be jealous. That would be stupid.
Okay, here’s the thing, it’s everything. I’d be fine if he was just a nice, easygoing guy who made for some good conversation every now and then. I’d be fine if he just had a full mouth and a nice smile. I’d be fine if he was just really tall, with the broad shoulders and freakin’ huge arms. I am not fine with the fact that he is all those things, with the warm brown eyes and the whole mechanic thing where, okay, obviously he’s gonna be really good at working with his hands and also he could probably bench press me no problem and he laughs at my jokes-well, sometimes anyway, which is better than never, and better than most people-he’s all that, and I was not really prepared to find the total package here.
Not that I’m in love with him.
Okay, if he listened to, say, the Stones or something instead of that screamy speed metal crap, maybe I would be.
I don’t know.
I don’t mess around with guys, I especially don’t mess around with guys who are also in the army. This I don’t need.
I wasn’t supposed to wind up on the run, that’s the first thing. Because if it wasn’t for that, if we’d just wrapped up our special mission, then by now we’d be reassigned and working with other people and I wouldn’t know all this stuff about him.
I’d know he’s attractive, I’d know I like his voice-aside from the impromptu sing-alongs we’ve had to put up with-but I wouldn’t know him. I wouldn’t have to wonder if he was worth taking the risk.
I was never any good at the whole gaydar thing. Lucky I tend to fly beneath it myself anyway, because I guess a guy could get into a lot of trouble like that.
Before this, the guys I served with, the guys I got close to, plenty of them were good guys-great, even. For friends. But I never thought about what it would be like to make out with them, it would’ve been like kissing your brother or something. Even the moderately good-looking ones, the chemistry just wasn’t… wasn’t like this.
This totally one-sided chemistry I got going on here that he doesn’t even know about, because apparently he only has eyes for his precious stolen Cobra truck.
Well, now I just gotta do what I always do when faced with the kind of temptation that could get a guy in my position into trouble-keep my mouth shut.
Surprising, I know. Keeping my mouth shut is so rarely my forte. But with this kind of thing, I’ve gotten good at it.
I just have to enjoy what I can get and not try for more, no matter how hot he is, no matter how sweet he is, no matter how many times we wind up so close we’re almost touching under the front bumper of the truck with our hearts racing-okay, that was probably a one-time thing, but the same applies for other close-quarters-and-hearts-racing scenarios. No matter what happens or how bad I think I want him, I can not let myself open my big mouth and say something, and I can definitely rule out letting said big mouth do anything other than talking.
I mean, I probably just… just imagined those times it seemed like he might… I probably just imagined that. Guy’s only got eyes for that truck, remember? And this is no time to put any stock in wishful thinking.