Dragon Wings: The Clean War - Chapter I
DRAGON WINGS PART TWO: The Clean War, the War in the Air
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Dragon!Jensen/Rider!Jared (notable mentions of Dragon!Chris/Rider!Steve and Merlin’s Dragon!Colin Morgan/Rider!Bradley James)
Category: M/M, AU, Historical
Summary: Jared, Jensen, Chris and Steve arrive in London. What they will face could pull them apart, or tie them closer than ever. But what is it about Jensen that makes the other dragons so edgy?
What you need to know: The Anglo-American Alliance - the United Kingdom (and all of its assorted subjects, including the ANZACs) and the United States - are up against the European Union - Germany, Italy and France, with Switzerland, Austria, Poland and Belgium given no option but to support them. While the Great War of this story more or less (definitely less) correlates to our World Wars One and Two, it does not necessarily follow the same course.
Four men spilled out of the plane onto the tarmac, all looking a little worse for wear. The commander of the airfield watched with some amusement, but he hid it behind a stern exterior. He strolled over to them and looked each of the men up and down. They were a handsome bunch, no doubt about that, but he wondered at the wisdom of his superiors; heavyweights or not, these men looked the very opposite of battle ready. Ah well, it was not his place to judge those in charge. His job was to get them up and flying as soon as possible.
“Welcome to London!” He boomed. “I’m Commander Manners and this is my airfield. You will be nominally under my command. Your immediate superior is Commander J.D. Morgan. You’ll meet him in a bit. How was your flight?” He smirked. “I’ve heard dragons don’t take too well to aircraft.” Two sets of eyes - one electric blue and the other startling green - glared at him. The dragons, no doubt.
“The flight was fine, sir.” The long-haired blonde with frosty blue-grey eyes answered him, a secretive smile gracing his face. “We just had to find ways to...amuse ourselves.”
Manners was surprised into a bellowing laugh. They weren’t without spirit. “Is that so?”
“Dragonriders are men of many skills.” Another older man with a lived in face and a growling bass strode over to them and held out his hand. “I’m Morgan. We’re damned glad to have you. We need as much help as we can get, and heavyweights are hard to come by.”
“Thank you, sir.” Jared spoke up, taking his hand. “I’m Jared Padalecki, rider of Eirian.”
Jensen went next. “Jensen Ackles, sir. And, ah, Eirian.” He blushed. Morgan chuckled, whether because of Jensen’s reaction or because he knew what the name meant, Jensen wasn’t sure.
“Chris Kane.” Chris spoke with his usual confidence. “Also going by Grymus.”
Steve went last. “And I’m Steve Carlson, his rider.”
“Have you ever flown as part of an attack force?” Morgan wanted to know.
Chris shook his head. “No. We’ve only ever flown with each other. There weren’t many heavyweights where we were either.”
“No, I suppose not.” He seemed to be mulling something over, glanced at Manners who shrugged, and then came to a decision. “Look, I know you’ll be feeling a little out of whack after the flight, so why don’t you go get settled in? Tomorrow is soon enough to see how you work together. Then I’ll decide where best to place you.”
“Yes, sir.” Jared answered for them all, and they trudged off in the direction of an aide waiting to direct them to their quarters.
Kim Manners watched them go and turned to Morgan. “You thinking they might be just what we were looking for?”
“Possibly.” Jeff Morgan was noncommittal. “Something about Ackles bothers me, but I can’t pin it down.”
***
Their ‘quarters’, it turned out, were tents. The airfield barracks had been filled to overfull, and the overflow had been assigned to tents since then. There were a lot of tents. Apparently, there were more than enough troops. The problem, it seemed, was having a use for them. While the navy was busy keeping the EU fleet from landing on English shores, and the Aerial Corps was busy making air attacks and helping to defend the navy, the regular ground troops had no ground to really fight upon. The tents weren’t too bad; high enough for a regular man to stand up in, though Jared had to bend slightly. There were two camp beds within, so it wasn’t any worse than the beds in the barracks. Jensen, however, was looking fretful.
“Jen? What is it?” Jared asked, tilting his head up to look into his eyes.
The dragon looked around, down, and then back to Jared. “I was just thinking...there is no protection in these canvas walls. What if we... Anyone outside can hear everything.”
Jared didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. As he had been told, forcefully, dragons need to be mated, and actions speak much louder than words. They felt a decrease in desire was also a decrease in love. “Well, I’m guessing we’re not the only dragons out here. There must be a way...” Jensen nodded his agreement, but he didn’t really look convinced. Jared would give him that. Knowing how much regard their superiors held for them (very little, considering they had ignored Commander Jackman’s protests to send them in the first place), he imagined they hadn’t given this particular problem a single thought.
“Hey! Knock knock.” Chris called out and then lifted the flap serving as a door to let himself and Steve in.
“You’re all settled in?” Jared asked, smirking.
Steve snorted. “Yeah. Hard to believe, I know, but we managed to find a spot for everything.”
“But he wouldn’t help me christen our new home.” Chris lamented.
Jensen blushed softly. “How can we? Anyone passing by, or next door, will hear every sound.” Jared wrapped his arms around him from behind, holding him close even if that was all he could do.
Chris shrugged. “They can cover their ears or envy us in silence.”
Shaking his head at his mate, Steve went on, “Anyway, we were heading over to the mess for dinner. You want to come with?”
“You bet.” Jared agreed. Jensen laughed, and he defended himself, “What? I have a fast metabolism.”
***
They were met with some curiosity as they entered the mess hall, but they ignored it. Joining the end of the queue waiting for food, they continued their own conversation and acted as though there was no reason for them to be noticed. Finally, a group of men joined the line behind them, and were clearly the ambassadors for the rest of the room. “So,” the apparent leader started, his voice unquestionably British, and a hush came over the room, “you’re Yanks, huh?”
“Well...” Chris drawled, unintimidated, “I’m an Okie, myself. These two good ol’ boys are from Texas. And Steve here hails from the West Coast. But Yanks? Nope, no Yanks here.”
There were a few snickers from the assembled crowd. No doubt this was the other Americans in the group who understood the joke. The British and other allies seemed to think that ‘Yanks’ was a generic term, not understanding the finer points of American history. Then again, the American’s couldn’t have explained the difference between a Tory and a Whig, so they were willing to cut them a little slack. It seemed their interrogator was willing to concede the point too. He smiled a crooked grin, blue eyes dancing, and held out a hand. Jared took it to shake.
“I’m Bradley, rider of Merlin, a middleweight.” He gestured to a man standing slightly behind him who looked vaguely mortified.
“Colin.” He muttered in a strong Irish brogue. “Call me Merlin and I will murder you in your sleep.” Bradley grinned, unrepentant. It was obviously an old argument between the pair.
Jensen smiled; peacemaker that he tended to be. “I’m a heavyweight. Eirian, but call me Jensen. And this is my rider, Jared.”
“I’m Chris, or Grymus. A heavyweight. And my rider, Steve.”
“Heavyweights?” Bradley seemed genuinely impressed. “We don’t get too many of them, mostly midweights and couriers. I wouldn’t get too settled if I were you. They’ll be sending you out to support the fleet in no time.” He snorted. “Not that our tents are real ‘homey’ to begin with.”
“I know, right?” Chris agreed. “How the hell do you get any privacy?”
“Privacy?” Bradley laughed. “There is none. We just do what needs doing and everyone pretends they didn’t hear a thing. It’s a common courtesy we extend to each other. Even the non-dragon-rider recruits.”
“How many dragons are here?” Steve piped up, curious.
“Well, it goes up and down.” Colin answered. “At the moment there are ten midweights, four heavyweights, or six now that you’re here, and a couple dozen or so lightweights.”
“Lightweights?” Jensen was confused. “Aren’t they purely used for couriers?”
Bradley shook his head. “Not here, mate. Desperate times and all that. The couriers were sitting around a lot of the time and figured they could fight just as well as their bigger brethren, so they volunteered to fight. Damn handy they are, too! We’re large targets, and they run interference for us.”
The queue had continued to move as they chatted, and they now all had their food. They were invited to join Bradley and his friends at their table. They accepted and the rest of their meal time was spent discussing the attacks that had occurred in the past, how things seemed to be organised, and the general state of the war. When it came time to return to their quarters, they bid their new friends good night.
“I look forward to seeing you out on the battlefield with us.” Bradley gave them a crooked grin and waved.
***
Come morning, their group of four assembled by the airfield and awaited Morgan’s arrival. He was right on time, and from that point on he had them fly gruelling manoeuvres. Even in the short time Chris had had to train him, Jensen’s fitness had increased. They were fast, precise and pushed themselves to continue long past where Morgan had expected them to give up. They were perfect for what they had in mind, and he pushed aside that sense of disquiet that Eirian continued to give him. He’d watched them in the mess last night, too. He noticed several others had seemed ruffled by his presence as well, despite his completely innocuous behaviour. Colin in particular had been colder and clingier than his usual affable self. He had asked the young dragon about it this morning, but he had been at a loss to explain it any better than Morgan could. Still, it was no reason to keep from using them.
He sent them off to lunch with orders to report to Manners’ office at 1330 hours, and then headed straight there himself. Manners looked up and waved him in. “Well?”
“Perfect.” Jeff told him without preamble.
“But?” Kim had known him long enough to sense his unease. Though not a dragon or rider himself, he had had plenty of time to get to know their ways.
Jeff shook his head. “Nothing. It isn’t an issue. They’ll get the job done. I truly believe that.”
Manners shrugged. “Okay, then. Guess we’d better get this plan all ironed out. The sooner we can enact it, the sooner we might get this bloody war finished.”
“Amen to that.”
***
The two heavyweights and their riders were brought into Commander Manners’ office. The mood in the room reminded them of the scene that played out in Jackman’s office only a few days ago. It didn’t bode well, but they did their best to stand at attention. Manners seemed less than impressed, but then, that seemed to be his normal expression. He barked out, “At ease. Take a seat.” They did so without comment. The older man sighed, and it was a weary sound. “We’ve been looking for recruits to send on a mission. It’s dangerous and has a high chance of failing altogether. That doesn’t change the fact that it has to be done, and the four of you fit the bill. It will require stamina, determination, and no preconceived notions of warfare. We need heavyweights who can, and will, fight.”
“May I ask a question?” Steve asked steadily, his voice somewhat cool.
“Speak now or forever hold your piece.” He waved a negligent hand to suggest they had free reign to say what they pleased.
“Why us?” He looked at his friends. “We aren’t the first heavyweights to come here. We’ve never been in a battle, so you have no idea how well we fight. And we’ve had as much training as any of the others when they first arrived. So, why us?”
Jeff snorted and spoke to Manners. “Told you they’d ask.” Turning to Steve, and the others, he went on, “Quite frankly, you’re they first new heavyweights we’ve had since we came up with the plan. They usually get shipped further up the coast, to help the navy where the fighting is heaviest. They sent you here, and we need you. If you weren’t fit enough, we wouldn’t have used you. As for fighting experience...you will fight to protect your riders, and fiercely at that. I only needed to see how you interact to know that.”
Jared frowned. “If this mission is so important, why haven’t they sent heavyweights to you before now?”
Manners gave each of them an assessing look before he spoke. “This doesn’t come from higher up.” He sighed again. “This plan? It’s the two of us. If it works, we may just shorten this damn war. If it fails, it’s our heads on the block.”
“After ours, you mean.” Chris growled.
“You’ll either be heroes, or you’ll be dead.” Jeff didn’t hold back.
“What is the plan?” Jensen wanted to know. He had been silent until that moment. Chris started to protest that it didn’t matter, they weren’t risking their necks for this, but Jensen overrode him, “No, Chris. What are we here for if not to try and end this thing? You can decide for yourself, but if this has any chance of helping, then I’m doing it.” It was the first time that Jensen had acted Chris’ equal. It was true, Chris held no higher rank than Jensen, it was simply that the younger dragon had never seemed interested in taking the lead.
“I would say your rider also has some say in it, but I commend you for your attitude.” Jeff smiled to himself a little. “I’m guessing you’ve realised that we have a lot of troops at our disposal here? What you may not have worked out is that almost the entire allied army is sitting here in our barracks and camped out in tents just waiting for a chance to fight. The problem is, the battle has rarely touched ground in fifteen years. We need to establish a ground base in Europe. We believe the answer is Andorra.” Jeff let out an unamused chuckle and asked the question he could see on each of their faces. “Where is Andorra, right? It’s a dot on the map between France and Spain. To date we believe they have remained neutral. We need to know if they could be persuaded to let us use their country as a base of operations for a land attack.”
“And if they do?” Chris cocked an eyebrow. “Their army will just meet ours, and they won’t have to somehow ship their troops in from another country.”
“If we can take Paris...” Jeff started, before Steve cut him off.
“Paris? Are you insane?”
“Not insane, boy.” Manners growled, his eyes sharp. “Desperate. The navy had admitted that they are taking more losses than they are incurring on the enemy. In as little as a few months, the European Union may break through and make their way to British shores. We’d have our land battle, alright, but there is nowhere to go. If they make it here, they’ll win the war.”
“So you believe we have the manpower to take Paris, a capital in the middle of a hostile country, but not to repel attackers from our own borders?” Jared looked at them in disbelief.
“Mind your tone.” Manners glared. “We’ve been at this a damn sight longer than any of you. We know how wars work, how the demoralising loss of any small amount of land can make the largest army fall to the smallest. If you can get us Andorra, we can get the troops needed.”
“Why don’t you just send an envoy through Spain?” Jensen asked, the surprising voice of reason.
“We tried that.” Jeff sighed heavily. “He was assassinated by French spies sent out for exactly that purpose.”
“And you don’t think that they’ll be in Andorra as well?” Chris pressed.
“Yes. I’m sure they will be. We’re hoping you won’t fall victim to them.” Manners answered with finality. It seemed the discussion was over.
Jensen looked at Jared, who gave him the slightest of nods. “We’ll go.” he told the older men.
“Us, too.” Chris snorted when Jensen looked at him in surprise. “Just because it’s a fool’s errand doesn’t mean I won’t go to protect your hide.”
“Seems to me that a fool’s errand is the best place for you.” Jared smirked.
Jeff laughed, delighted and relieved and resigned all at once. “Right, well, it’s many miles to Andorra, and they won’t be smooth flying, so you’d best start training for long distance flight right away. We’ll take care of getting the other dragon flights prepared to assist you on your first leg. Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir.” All four gave him a fair approximation of a salute and left the office.
Looking at Kim, Jeff said, “Are we doing the right thing here? Do you think they really grasp how dangerous this mission is?”
“Die here or die there. I don’t much think they care where it happens. At least this way they might do some actual good.”
“God, I hope they succeed.”
“Amen to that.”
Chapter II: http://lady-krystal-79.livejournal.com/39740.html