(no subject)
Title: Patrolling
Rating: G (Suitable for all ages)
Disclaimers: The character Gabriel Cotton belongs to sharpiefan. Joseph Newbury is my own creation.
Original pen-date: 4 February 2011
Summary: Show the Colours AU; Cotton and Company in Afghanistan.
Author's Note: Written for a Kink meme on DreamWidth. Prompt - a modern AU: StC characters are involved in the War on Terror.
"Why's it so bloody hot, but there's so much green all over?"
"There's a river near here, is why," was the terse reply. "Now shut it."
The man who'd spoken first, Newbury, scowled briefly but said nothing more. Behind him, Cotton trudged along in silence, having nothing to add to the short conversation. It was indeed oppressively hot. A damp, heavy sort of hot. Yet Newbury's observation, however an obvious one, was correct. The field they were walking through now was thick with tall, leafy vegetation. In a strange way, it was beautiful. If only it wasn't so damn hot.
At least they had been given clothing to replace their tattered shirts and jackets. Oddly cut clothing, maybe, but it was surprisingly comfortable. Loose fitting and light, which was a definite relief. Cotton hadn't so sure about the colouring of the jackets at first though. A strange mottling of different shades of green. It wasn't until the first foray into fields like this one that he saw the worth in it.
This same sense of grudging ease didn't extend to the short blocky hunk of metal he carried for a weapon, or the bowl-like hat he wore on his head. He missed his shako and rifle. There was so much to adjust to here. The only relief was provided by the presence of his mates. Enduring this alone would have been too much.
A command to halt was being passed back along the spread-out line of men ahead of him. Cotton dropped down to one knee, the blocky thing called a rifle balanced in his hands, just as he'd been taught. The pause was hardly a relief. At least while he'd been moving, his mind had been distracted from the heat by a constant scanning of the wall of green around him, by being alert for any sound that might betray the approach of the enemy.
"Get some water down, fella," the man behind him advised. Cotton glanced back and was surprised to see the soldier had set his rifle down so that it rested against the inside of his upraised knee. The man had taken a canteen from a pocket and was drinking from it. Upon seeing Cotton's interest, he offered the canteen to him. "Tea, if you like. Keeps a lad goin'."
Cotton grinned and reached out to take the canteen. It was indeed tea. The better things, it seemed, could not be changed.
Rating: G (Suitable for all ages)
Disclaimers: The character Gabriel Cotton belongs to sharpiefan. Joseph Newbury is my own creation.
Original pen-date: 4 February 2011
Summary: Show the Colours AU; Cotton and Company in Afghanistan.
Author's Note: Written for a Kink meme on DreamWidth. Prompt - a modern AU: StC characters are involved in the War on Terror.
"Why's it so bloody hot, but there's so much green all over?"
"There's a river near here, is why," was the terse reply. "Now shut it."
The man who'd spoken first, Newbury, scowled briefly but said nothing more. Behind him, Cotton trudged along in silence, having nothing to add to the short conversation. It was indeed oppressively hot. A damp, heavy sort of hot. Yet Newbury's observation, however an obvious one, was correct. The field they were walking through now was thick with tall, leafy vegetation. In a strange way, it was beautiful. If only it wasn't so damn hot.
At least they had been given clothing to replace their tattered shirts and jackets. Oddly cut clothing, maybe, but it was surprisingly comfortable. Loose fitting and light, which was a definite relief. Cotton hadn't so sure about the colouring of the jackets at first though. A strange mottling of different shades of green. It wasn't until the first foray into fields like this one that he saw the worth in it.
This same sense of grudging ease didn't extend to the short blocky hunk of metal he carried for a weapon, or the bowl-like hat he wore on his head. He missed his shako and rifle. There was so much to adjust to here. The only relief was provided by the presence of his mates. Enduring this alone would have been too much.
A command to halt was being passed back along the spread-out line of men ahead of him. Cotton dropped down to one knee, the blocky thing called a rifle balanced in his hands, just as he'd been taught. The pause was hardly a relief. At least while he'd been moving, his mind had been distracted from the heat by a constant scanning of the wall of green around him, by being alert for any sound that might betray the approach of the enemy.
"Get some water down, fella," the man behind him advised. Cotton glanced back and was surprised to see the soldier had set his rifle down so that it rested against the inside of his upraised knee. The man had taken a canteen from a pocket and was drinking from it. Upon seeing Cotton's interest, he offered the canteen to him. "Tea, if you like. Keeps a lad goin'."
Cotton grinned and reached out to take the canteen. It was indeed tea. The better things, it seemed, could not be changed.