WIP reward Sneak Peak
Wow, I didn't realize just how long it's been since I wrote on here. I suck. *hangs head in shame*
I'm still not here for any kind of long blog update though, lol, sorry. I'm fighting off the cold from hell and spending time trying to catch up on LJ stuff in between naps. One of the posts I just read was from way back in like, April?, and it seems that I got two noms at the Ezzie awards, didn't win, but still - nice!
So, thanks to whoever nominated me! I really appreciate it, and to show a little of that appreciation here's a snippet from one of my WIP stories - enjoy!
In which Chris Larabee first meets Buck Wilmington (new modern AU).
Larabee glowered at all and sundry as he stalked into the mess kitchen Tuesday evening to wash dishes for the fifth time already that week; extra KP duty sucked. The other trainees scurried out of his way as he moved to take up what had become his regular station, right in front of the largest sink. The others had quickly learned not to get on Larabee’s bad side, of course, most of them wondered if he had anything but. Making friends and influencing people he was not.
Glancing up, Chris noticed a brunette newcomer joining the dinner squad, uninterested, he looked back down as he finished tying on his apron. Initially, he had tried washing without the ‘girly’ accessory, that first night he had left soaking wet and covered in only God knows what; he had conceded to the apron ever since.
“Well, howdy, all! Bucklin Wilmington, at your service, but don’t no one call me that unless I’m in trouble, which, come to think of it, might be why I hear it so often,” the tall, well-muscled brunette laughed as he introduced himself to the crew. “My friends call me Buck. Where do you need me?”
The rest of the unlucky men stuck with KP duty that night all pointed over towards the lean, angry blond trying to cut himself in half with his apron strings. Chris gave the lot a defiant glare before turning his back to them and reaching into the soapy water in front of him.
“Alright, I can scrub pots with the best of them,” Buck grinned. “My momma didn’t raise no pampered fop.”
With hardly a blink of protest, Buck headed over to take up position at Chris’ side. As he was reaching towards the water for a pot of his own to scrub, a lightning quick hand darted out, stopping his motion and dripping bubbles down his wrist.
“Unless you want to walk back to your bunk advertising exactly where you’ve been, and smelling like it too, best put on an apron,” spoke the voice of personal experience.
“It’s that bad, huh?” Buck winced before moving to properly suit up.
“Worse, tonight’s Mystery Meat night.” Chris frowned down in irritation at the pan he’d been attempting to clean.
“…gross.” Buck, now donning a bright red apron reading ‘Kiss the Chef’, and Chris wondered where that had come from since he hadn’t seen it on the shelf when he was grabbing the plain blue one he had on, . With a look flirting the edge between disgust and fear, the brunette slowly reached into the water. When he pulled out nothing more harmful than a dirty pot lid, his original enthusiasm returned, and brought with it his gregarious nature. “Tiffani or Debbie Gibson?”
Blinking, Chris cast a look of confusion at his fellow scrubber, who was now swaying to some imagined beat only he could hear.
“You know, who would you rather…?” grinned Wilmington waggling his eyebrows.
With a snort of amusement, and with nothing better to do, Chris actually gave the question some thought. Each singer had her perks, but he’d always been partial to redheads, so: “Tiffani.”
“Ah, yes, the fiery temptress, a good choice. But remember to never underestimate the power of a redhead’s fury.” Buck glanced at Chris with a look of chagrin. “Never date two sisters at the same time behind each other’s backs, man, especially if one’s a redhead.”
“You didn’t?” Chris laughed as he started on another pan.
“Unfortunately for me, I did. And, hey, things were going along fine with them both, too. Until, like an idiot, I mentioned a family thing to one that the other had told me about,” sighed the brunette setting the lid aside to rinse. “Forgot Shelly, that was the redhead, hadn’t let me know herself yet. Man, did she ever kick my ass. And I mean that literally: Shelly was a black belt.”
“So, the moral of the story is ‘never piss off a redhead or else she’ll stomp you into the ground’?” teased a smiling Larabee, handing over a dirty pot.
“Or ‘don’t date sisters when you’re only twelve, as you haven’t had enough preparation to deal with the complexities of the situation yet’; I haven’t decided which.” Buck said with a thoughtful look as he scoured the pot. “Maybe both.”
“You were twelve and already two-timing? Man, you started early,” the blond stated in amazement.
“Well, my mamma always said that I was a fast learner; she just wasn’t always best pleased with what it was I was learning,” chuckled Wilmington before he continued in a serious tone. “But what else could I do? I hadn’t yet learned the fine art that is the handling of my animal magnetism. The ladies have always loved me and I couldn’t disappoint the females of the species, not even fourteen year old ones.”
“Fourteen…fine art…animal magnetism…” extreme disbelief warred with surprised amusement on Chris’ face before the amusement won out and he stopped scrubbing to double over in laughter, grabbing at the side of the sink to keep himself upright.
The laughter was infectious and soon both of the young men were near hysterical, only getting worse as they noticed the way the rest of the KP squad was staring at the two of them. Unable to stop laughing long enough to explain, and not really motivated to in the first place, they just ignored the rest of the men in the kitchen. Eventually, the laughing fit tapered off, only random giggles escaping now and then when one or the other of them caught sight of a confused glower pointed their direction.
“Man, I can’t remember when the last time I cracked up like that was,” Chris smiled as he straightened up, reaching back into the soapy water.
“Me either,” Buck grinned, also reaching into the water for something to clean. “Got caught sneaking out of women’s housing.”
“What?” Chris asked with a blank look. That sentence had come out of nowhere as far as he could tell.
“The reason I’m here tonight, gracing you with my presence.” Wilmington shared. “I was told the punishment would have been more severe than a couple of extra KP duties if they’d had any actual proof of misconduct or inappropriate fraternizations. But, like I said before, and I meant it, the ladies love me; thus, no eye witnesses to any misdeeds. ‘I was just lost on my way to the john, I swear, Drill Sergeant.’”
“So, how’d you get caught if these ladies love you so much?” asked Chris with a raised brow.
“Eh, what else, bro - jealousy. The downfall of many a great man,” the taller teen shook his head in mock sadness. “Some dude got all butt hurt thinking that I was sleeping with his lady, so he staked out one of the fucking footpaths every night for two weeks straight, or so he shouted as they were dragging his crazy ass away from me. As good as I am, even I was bound to run across him sooner or later. Last night was, unfortunately, my later.”
“And were you?” the blond questioned, once more searching under the suds for a dish.
“Was I what?” the other teen feigned innocence pretty well as he too put his hands in the dish water.
“Sleeping with his lady?” smirked Chris.
“Of course!” Buck exclaimed looking affronted that the opposite might even be considered. He watched as Larabee shook his head and chuckled, deciding that he much preferred this carefree version of the blond over the grumpy one he’d first joined at the sink. “So, is this your normal scheduled KP? Or are you in for some infraction too?”
“Infraction? Yeah, I guess you could say I’m in for an infraction,” stated the shorter teen. “If you can call publicly disagreeing with Drill Sgt. Miller’s orders an infraction. I think he called it insubordination. Gave me a week of extra KP duty and one long ass threatening lecture, plus an extra 100 pushups a day until he feels I’ve ‘reformed’ .”
“That was you?” inquired a shocked Buck. “Man, you’re infamous. The rest of the students can’t decide if you’ve got balls of titanium or a head full of rocks. I was leaning towards the latter, myself.”
“Gee, thanks,” snorted Chris. “And just what do you mean by ‘infamous’?”
“For something that barely happened this past Sunday, it’s already being said that the argument and resulting reprimand are going to go down in the record book of boot camp dressing-downs. One of the top ten, I hear.” he replied with an impressed look. “Making records already, go you; of course, I don’t think this is the type of record you really want to be known for, yeah?”
Frowning Chris paused in his washing; he had been thinking about walking out, just packing up his measly supplies and departing. Quitting. As much as it pained him to do so, he was almost at his breaking point and it had seemed like this military stuff just wasn’t for him after all. Since he was preparing to leave anyway, he’d decided to damn the consequences, finally saying exactly what had been on his mind when Miller had started barking orders at 4 a.m. that Sunday morning. But he hadn’t anticipated this, hadn‘t thought anyone else would care what he did or said. Did he really want to leave with this kind of a reputation hanging over his head?
“A head full of rocks, huh?” a still frowning Chris asked softly.
“Heh, yeah. In my defense, that was before I knew you.” Buck raised both his hands, accidentally jerking the pot, that he had momentarily forgotten he still held, so that it splashed soapy water all over his front. “Shit! Good thing I had this apron on, wouldn’t want to go to the ladies after this looking like I had an accident. Thanks, man, I owe you one. I have a tip on handling Miller, if you’re interested?”
Frown replaced by a growing smile, Chris decided that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth the effort of sticking around to improve his bad reputation. After all, it seemed he wouldn’t be doing it all alone anymore.
A/N: This is a flashback scene from Chris's Story. Sooo, what do ya'll think?
I'm still not here for any kind of long blog update though, lol, sorry. I'm fighting off the cold from hell and spending time trying to catch up on LJ stuff in between naps. One of the posts I just read was from way back in like, April?, and it seems that I got two noms at the Ezzie awards, didn't win, but still - nice!
So, thanks to whoever nominated me! I really appreciate it, and to show a little of that appreciation here's a snippet from one of my WIP stories - enjoy!
In which Chris Larabee first meets Buck Wilmington (new modern AU).
Larabee glowered at all and sundry as he stalked into the mess kitchen Tuesday evening to wash dishes for the fifth time already that week; extra KP duty sucked. The other trainees scurried out of his way as he moved to take up what had become his regular station, right in front of the largest sink. The others had quickly learned not to get on Larabee’s bad side, of course, most of them wondered if he had anything but. Making friends and influencing people he was not.
Glancing up, Chris noticed a brunette newcomer joining the dinner squad, uninterested, he looked back down as he finished tying on his apron. Initially, he had tried washing without the ‘girly’ accessory, that first night he had left soaking wet and covered in only God knows what; he had conceded to the apron ever since.
“Well, howdy, all! Bucklin Wilmington, at your service, but don’t no one call me that unless I’m in trouble, which, come to think of it, might be why I hear it so often,” the tall, well-muscled brunette laughed as he introduced himself to the crew. “My friends call me Buck. Where do you need me?”
The rest of the unlucky men stuck with KP duty that night all pointed over towards the lean, angry blond trying to cut himself in half with his apron strings. Chris gave the lot a defiant glare before turning his back to them and reaching into the soapy water in front of him.
“Alright, I can scrub pots with the best of them,” Buck grinned. “My momma didn’t raise no pampered fop.”
With hardly a blink of protest, Buck headed over to take up position at Chris’ side. As he was reaching towards the water for a pot of his own to scrub, a lightning quick hand darted out, stopping his motion and dripping bubbles down his wrist.
“Unless you want to walk back to your bunk advertising exactly where you’ve been, and smelling like it too, best put on an apron,” spoke the voice of personal experience.
“It’s that bad, huh?” Buck winced before moving to properly suit up.
“Worse, tonight’s Mystery Meat night.” Chris frowned down in irritation at the pan he’d been attempting to clean.
“…gross.” Buck, now donning a bright red apron reading ‘Kiss the Chef’, and Chris wondered where that had come from since he hadn’t seen it on the shelf when he was grabbing the plain blue one he had on, . With a look flirting the edge between disgust and fear, the brunette slowly reached into the water. When he pulled out nothing more harmful than a dirty pot lid, his original enthusiasm returned, and brought with it his gregarious nature. “Tiffani or Debbie Gibson?”
Blinking, Chris cast a look of confusion at his fellow scrubber, who was now swaying to some imagined beat only he could hear.
“You know, who would you rather…?” grinned Wilmington waggling his eyebrows.
With a snort of amusement, and with nothing better to do, Chris actually gave the question some thought. Each singer had her perks, but he’d always been partial to redheads, so: “Tiffani.”
“Ah, yes, the fiery temptress, a good choice. But remember to never underestimate the power of a redhead’s fury.” Buck glanced at Chris with a look of chagrin. “Never date two sisters at the same time behind each other’s backs, man, especially if one’s a redhead.”
“You didn’t?” Chris laughed as he started on another pan.
“Unfortunately for me, I did. And, hey, things were going along fine with them both, too. Until, like an idiot, I mentioned a family thing to one that the other had told me about,” sighed the brunette setting the lid aside to rinse. “Forgot Shelly, that was the redhead, hadn’t let me know herself yet. Man, did she ever kick my ass. And I mean that literally: Shelly was a black belt.”
“So, the moral of the story is ‘never piss off a redhead or else she’ll stomp you into the ground’?” teased a smiling Larabee, handing over a dirty pot.
“Or ‘don’t date sisters when you’re only twelve, as you haven’t had enough preparation to deal with the complexities of the situation yet’; I haven’t decided which.” Buck said with a thoughtful look as he scoured the pot. “Maybe both.”
“You were twelve and already two-timing? Man, you started early,” the blond stated in amazement.
“Well, my mamma always said that I was a fast learner; she just wasn’t always best pleased with what it was I was learning,” chuckled Wilmington before he continued in a serious tone. “But what else could I do? I hadn’t yet learned the fine art that is the handling of my animal magnetism. The ladies have always loved me and I couldn’t disappoint the females of the species, not even fourteen year old ones.”
“Fourteen…fine art…animal magnetism…” extreme disbelief warred with surprised amusement on Chris’ face before the amusement won out and he stopped scrubbing to double over in laughter, grabbing at the side of the sink to keep himself upright.
The laughter was infectious and soon both of the young men were near hysterical, only getting worse as they noticed the way the rest of the KP squad was staring at the two of them. Unable to stop laughing long enough to explain, and not really motivated to in the first place, they just ignored the rest of the men in the kitchen. Eventually, the laughing fit tapered off, only random giggles escaping now and then when one or the other of them caught sight of a confused glower pointed their direction.
“Man, I can’t remember when the last time I cracked up like that was,” Chris smiled as he straightened up, reaching back into the soapy water.
“Me either,” Buck grinned, also reaching into the water for something to clean. “Got caught sneaking out of women’s housing.”
“What?” Chris asked with a blank look. That sentence had come out of nowhere as far as he could tell.
“The reason I’m here tonight, gracing you with my presence.” Wilmington shared. “I was told the punishment would have been more severe than a couple of extra KP duties if they’d had any actual proof of misconduct or inappropriate fraternizations. But, like I said before, and I meant it, the ladies love me; thus, no eye witnesses to any misdeeds. ‘I was just lost on my way to the john, I swear, Drill Sergeant.’”
“So, how’d you get caught if these ladies love you so much?” asked Chris with a raised brow.
“Eh, what else, bro - jealousy. The downfall of many a great man,” the taller teen shook his head in mock sadness. “Some dude got all butt hurt thinking that I was sleeping with his lady, so he staked out one of the fucking footpaths every night for two weeks straight, or so he shouted as they were dragging his crazy ass away from me. As good as I am, even I was bound to run across him sooner or later. Last night was, unfortunately, my later.”
“And were you?” the blond questioned, once more searching under the suds for a dish.
“Was I what?” the other teen feigned innocence pretty well as he too put his hands in the dish water.
“Sleeping with his lady?” smirked Chris.
“Of course!” Buck exclaimed looking affronted that the opposite might even be considered. He watched as Larabee shook his head and chuckled, deciding that he much preferred this carefree version of the blond over the grumpy one he’d first joined at the sink. “So, is this your normal scheduled KP? Or are you in for some infraction too?”
“Infraction? Yeah, I guess you could say I’m in for an infraction,” stated the shorter teen. “If you can call publicly disagreeing with Drill Sgt. Miller’s orders an infraction. I think he called it insubordination. Gave me a week of extra KP duty and one long ass threatening lecture, plus an extra 100 pushups a day until he feels I’ve ‘reformed’ .”
“That was you?” inquired a shocked Buck. “Man, you’re infamous. The rest of the students can’t decide if you’ve got balls of titanium or a head full of rocks. I was leaning towards the latter, myself.”
“Gee, thanks,” snorted Chris. “And just what do you mean by ‘infamous’?”
“For something that barely happened this past Sunday, it’s already being said that the argument and resulting reprimand are going to go down in the record book of boot camp dressing-downs. One of the top ten, I hear.” he replied with an impressed look. “Making records already, go you; of course, I don’t think this is the type of record you really want to be known for, yeah?”
Frowning Chris paused in his washing; he had been thinking about walking out, just packing up his measly supplies and departing. Quitting. As much as it pained him to do so, he was almost at his breaking point and it had seemed like this military stuff just wasn’t for him after all. Since he was preparing to leave anyway, he’d decided to damn the consequences, finally saying exactly what had been on his mind when Miller had started barking orders at 4 a.m. that Sunday morning. But he hadn’t anticipated this, hadn‘t thought anyone else would care what he did or said. Did he really want to leave with this kind of a reputation hanging over his head?
“A head full of rocks, huh?” a still frowning Chris asked softly.
“Heh, yeah. In my defense, that was before I knew you.” Buck raised both his hands, accidentally jerking the pot, that he had momentarily forgotten he still held, so that it splashed soapy water all over his front. “Shit! Good thing I had this apron on, wouldn’t want to go to the ladies after this looking like I had an accident. Thanks, man, I owe you one. I have a tip on handling Miller, if you’re interested?”
Frown replaced by a growing smile, Chris decided that maybe, just maybe, it would be worth the effort of sticking around to improve his bad reputation. After all, it seemed he wouldn’t be doing it all alone anymore.
A/N: This is a flashback scene from Chris's Story. Sooo, what do ya'll think?