Gunny Wynn Comes to Dinner
Title: Tomorrow There Will Be Tiggers
Author: m_buggie
Fandoms: “Generation Kill”/“Band of Brothers”/”The West Wing”
Pairings: Colbert/Fick, Nixon/Winters, mentions of Speirs/Lipton
Word Count: 2,040
Rating: PG-13
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit and mean no disrespect so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: This takes place in the world of the Big Damn Modern Day Crossover AU of Doom-verse…I think that says it all. This is also a follow-up piece to “Three Hours”.
~x~
Special Agent Mike “Gunny” Wynn had been in the US Armed Forces for five years, ran black ops for seven years, and had been with the FBI for the past eight years. He’d been around, as they say. He’d seen shit that no human being should have to and survived it with mind and body intact. Gunny Wynn was the stuff of legends amid the black ops community - a mentor to no one less than the equally legendary Ronald Speirs. Yet on one particular evening in April, Gunny was smiling and tipping an invisible hat to a five year old girl who was gazing at him with adoration.
“Hello Miss Eleanor,” the FBI agent said.
Eleanor Nixon-Winters giggled and clapped her hands with delight before squirming out of her godfather’s arms like she was more liquid than solid.
“Daddy, Papa, look who’s here!” she exclaimed. “Uncle Nate’s home!”
Nathaniel Fick smiled and chuckled under his breath. Closing the door behind Mike Wynn he remarked, “Now remember, you’re joining us for dinner tonight.”
Gunny sighed but smiled back. “I don’t know, Nate.”
“Come on, Mike, you got me through Friday night traffic alive and in one piece yet again.”
“I should hope so. That is my job.”
“And as much as I miss my three hour train rides, you make for good company.”
“Oh, now you’re just buttering me up.”
“So I’d be honored if you graced my dinner table with your presence tonight.”
Gunny laughed. “Yep, you’re a politician all right. Every time I forget you go and say some shit like that to remind me.”
They removed their coats and hung them up in the hall closet before proceeding past the small foyer and into the living room.
“Just so you know,” Nate said, with total seriousness, “as antisocial as Brad can be, I know he’ll make an exception for the man who safeguards me from right-wing loonies and homophobic bigots on a regular basis.”
Gunny patted Nate on the shoulder, his laughter tapering off with another sigh. “Oh, alright, you’ve twisted my arm and hidden my coat. Now I’ve got no choice but to stay.”
“Well, would you look what the cat dragged in?” Lewis Nixon declared as he ambled up to the Federal agent. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you outside of an official campaign function, Agent Wynn.”
“Normally you wouldn’t, Mr. Nixon,” Wynn replied. “But Nate launched a very compelling argument and I just couldn’t tell him no.”
Nixon nodded. “Ah yes, Nate can be remarkably persuasive when he wants to be. Was it the puppy eyes? He used the puppy eyes on you, didn’t he?”
Gunny chuckled.
Nix snapped his fingers. “I knew it. He’s a sneaky one, that Nathaniel. Further proof of his political talents, if you ask me. Because honestly? I don’t think the House of Representatives is going to know what hit it once Nathaniel Fick gets elected to office.” He laid a hand on Gunny Wynn’s shoulder and leaned in as if he were speaking conspiratorially. “Don’t be fooled by Nate’s ‘aw shucks’ smile. Ignore the fact that he barely looks old enough to shave.”
At which point Nate muttered, “Oh come on, Nix…”
“Behind those big soulful eyes with the ridiculously long lashes is a lean, mean, fighting machine with a diplomat’s wit and a predator’s edge,” Nix continued. “Capitol Hill won’t stand a chance against the intellect, charm, and disarming looks of Congressman Fick.” Nixon looked over his shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Brad?”
Brad Colbert smirked as he came up behind Nate Fick, slipping both arms around his husband’s waist and pressing a kiss to the curve of his neck.
Gunny couldn’t help but smile. It warmed his heart to see Nate so happy, so loved. In the eight months following the first threat against Congressional candidate Nathaniel Fick’s life, Special Agent Mike Wynn had come to be good friends with the man whose life and well-being he and his partner, Special Agent Wesley Davis, were charged with protecting. After countless hours spent shadowing Nate on the campaign and driving him back and forth between New York City and Washington DC, Gunny had come to think of the young politician as something of a kid brother.
It was Gunny’s duty as a Federal agent to investigate the person or persons who’d been sending Nate Fick death threats and other hate mail. It was as a favor to his old protégé, Ron Speirs, that Gunny went the extra mile and chose to play bodyguard most of the time when Agent Davis would’ve been fine with taking a turn. But it was Gunny’s own fondness for Nate that made him do things like come over for dinner. Nathaniel Fick wasn’t just a Congressional candidate to be watched over; he was a friend to be taken care of.
Gunny liked Nate and watching him interact with Brad Colbert was a way of remembering what it was like to have someone you loved and wanted to protect more than anything else.
Brad nuzzled Nate’s jaw and stated, “So long as the puppy eyes are the only tool of persuasion from Nate’s ‘playing dirty’ arsenal that he employs, I’d say so.”
Nate laughed, gaped, and turned his head around to look the taller man in the eye. “Brad!”
Brad smirked wider and cupped Nate’s jaw, pulling him into a kiss.
Gunny smirked and looked away while Nix busied himself with getting a beverage. Ella just giggled and then got distracted by the cat.
“I’m going to change out of this suit,” Nate said, breaking away from Brad. He looked to Gunny and told him, “Make yourself at home, Mike. You are staying for dinner.” He annunciated his second sentence quite clearly in a way that brooked no argument.
Gunny chuckled. “Yes, sir.”
Nate laughed and disappeared into the bedroom.
“Food’s ready,” Richard Winters announced as he emerged from the kitchen. “Where’s Nate? I thought I heard him come in.”
“He went to go change out of his monkey suit,” Nix answered.
Ella crinkled her nose in a confused little expression and looked up at her father. “That’s silly, Daddy, Uncle Nate doesn’t dress up like a monkey.”
The men laughed.
“Agent Wynn,” Dick Winters said, “it’s nice to see you outside of Nate’s campaign headquarters.”
“Yep.” Gunny nodded. “Well, apparently I do exist as something beyond Nate’s bodyguard.”
“Oh yeah?” Brad remarked, sounding casual and cutting in the same breath. “What’s that?”
“My friend,” Nate Fick answered on Gunny Wynn’s behalf, reappearing in the same faded Dartmouth shirt and khakis that he’d worn the first time Special Agent Wynn and Special Agent Davis had come to call.
“Any leads with the investigation?” Dick inquired delicately.
Gunny Wynn sighed.
Brad’s eyes darkened and Nate glanced off in another direction. Nix pursed his lips and Dick watched their daughter play with her godfather’s cat, blissfully unaware of the grown-up talk taking place only a few yards away.
“Wes and I have an idea or two,” Gunny replied.
“Good,” Brad said, resting a hand on Nate’s hip. “I hope you track those bigoted inbred sister-fucking sons of bitches down and make them pay.”
“The FBI isn’t a death squad, Brad,” Dick pointed out. “Those criminals will be brought to justice and put in prison, not excuted.”
“Not unless we give Ron a call on the matter,” Nix muttered.
“Ron retired from all that years ago,” Gunny remarked. “But I’m sure the CIA would still be able to work something out…”
“Come on, guys, let’s not discuss this right now,” Nate interjected quietly, walking over and scooping up his goddaughter. “I’d say it’s time for dinner,” he said, raising his voice to a more cheery tone, “don’t you think so, Ella Bella?”
“Yeah!” she chirped, throwing little arms around Nate’s neck. “We were waiting for you.”
“Well, I’m here now,” the young Congressional hopeful said. “So let’s eat.” He shot poignant looks to the other men over Ella’s head as he set her down in her chair.
The others took the cue for what it was meant to be: less talk of death threats, more dinner. An extra place was set for Gunny Wynn, another chair brought over. And then they were once big happy unorthodox family - with the exception of Ronald Speirs and Carwood Lipton, who were in Europe at the moment. They laughed, they chatted, they ate. For a couple of hours they could pretend that one of them wasn’t a Congressional candidate receiving violent anti-gay death threats on a regular basis, one wasn’t an FBI agent investigating said death threats, one wasn’t the disowned son of a wealthy and powerful political family, and so forth and so on. It was a pleasant evening.
“I’m not tired,” Ella insisted even as she yawned. “I don’t wanna go home yet.”
“Oh, but we have to,” Dick Winters said, lifting his daughter off the spot on the sofa where she was snuggling into one of the throw pillows.
“No,” she pouted, squirming.
“You know, Ella Bella,” Lewis Nixon offered, “the sooner we go home, the sooner we can go to bed; and the sooner we get to sleep, the sooner it’ll be tomorrow.”
“Nuh-uh,” she countered, cranky and unconvinced.
“Yeah, I never believed that either,” Nixon muttered, brushing an errant lock of hair from Ella’s face as she yawned again.
“Tomorrow,” she murmured softly, “tomorrow there will be tiggers.”
Eleanor Nixon-Winters was falling asleep on Dick Winters’ shoulder when he and Lewis Nixon began to bid their friends a fond adieu for the night. The Bronx Zoo was a mighty big place and little girls needed all the energy they could muster.
“Ella really got a kick out of the piggy-back rides,” Dick commented, one hand stroking his daughter’s hair.
Gunny chuckled. “I kind of figured as much, what with all the grinning and giggling going on.”
“Well, we ought to get going,” Nix said, checking his watch. “If we’re lucky we can get this little one in bed before she wakes up again.”
“How’re you getting home?” Gunny asked.
“Subway,” Dick replied.
The FBI agent shook his head. “Nonsense, I’m driving you folks. I’ve still got Miss Eleanor’s car seat in the trunk from the last time she tagged along with Nate to DC.”
“Are you sure?” Dick looked apologetic even as he delicately shifted little Ella from one shoulder to the other. “We’d hate to inconvenience you.”
“Not a problem at all,” Gunny insisted. “I wouldn’t feel right letting y’all take the trains when I could just as easily drive you home.”
Nix gave Gunny a friendly pat on the arm. “Thanks, Mike. We owe you one.”
Nathaniel Fick, meanwhile, smiled softly at his guardian and held out the older man’s coat. “Thank you for coming to dinner tonight, Mike,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”
“Thanks for having me,” Gunny responded and meant it. He returned the younger man’s smile easily, infectious as it was.
“I’m sure this is probably all in conflict with FBI guidelines for proper behavior of bodyguards.”
Gunny waved a hand, not making a big deal of it. “No harm, no foul, Nate.”
Nate Fick’s smile grew and he hugged Agent Wynn impulsively. Gunny froze for a moment, unsure of how to react, but the gesture thawed him and he chuckled, patting Nate on the back.
“Get home safe, Mike,” Nate said. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Sure thing.” Gunny nodded and looked over to Brad Colbert. “Goodnight, fellas.”
Brad stuck his hand out, nodded once, and said, “Mike,” with a cool and even stare.
“Brad,” Mike replied, shaking the taller man’s hand.
The two men watched each other for a long moment before the faintest of smiles traced Brad Colbert’s face. Gunny nodded in silent understanding, grinning in his own fashion.
Special Agent Mike Wynn went back to his government-issue black SUV then and drove the Nixon-Winters family back to their home on the Upper West Side. After dropping them off at the Dakota, Mike continued to the hotel he and Agent Wesley Davis were staying at - unable to stop himself from grinning the whole way back. It’d been a long time since he’d felt like part of a family.
Author: m_buggie
Fandoms: “Generation Kill”/“Band of Brothers”/”The West Wing”
Pairings: Colbert/Fick, Nixon/Winters, mentions of Speirs/Lipton
Word Count: 2,040
Rating: PG-13
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit and mean no disrespect so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: This takes place in the world of the Big Damn Modern Day Crossover AU of Doom-verse…I think that says it all. This is also a follow-up piece to “Three Hours”.
~x~
Special Agent Mike “Gunny” Wynn had been in the US Armed Forces for five years, ran black ops for seven years, and had been with the FBI for the past eight years. He’d been around, as they say. He’d seen shit that no human being should have to and survived it with mind and body intact. Gunny Wynn was the stuff of legends amid the black ops community - a mentor to no one less than the equally legendary Ronald Speirs. Yet on one particular evening in April, Gunny was smiling and tipping an invisible hat to a five year old girl who was gazing at him with adoration.
“Hello Miss Eleanor,” the FBI agent said.
Eleanor Nixon-Winters giggled and clapped her hands with delight before squirming out of her godfather’s arms like she was more liquid than solid.
“Daddy, Papa, look who’s here!” she exclaimed. “Uncle Nate’s home!”
Nathaniel Fick smiled and chuckled under his breath. Closing the door behind Mike Wynn he remarked, “Now remember, you’re joining us for dinner tonight.”
Gunny sighed but smiled back. “I don’t know, Nate.”
“Come on, Mike, you got me through Friday night traffic alive and in one piece yet again.”
“I should hope so. That is my job.”
“And as much as I miss my three hour train rides, you make for good company.”
“Oh, now you’re just buttering me up.”
“So I’d be honored if you graced my dinner table with your presence tonight.”
Gunny laughed. “Yep, you’re a politician all right. Every time I forget you go and say some shit like that to remind me.”
They removed their coats and hung them up in the hall closet before proceeding past the small foyer and into the living room.
“Just so you know,” Nate said, with total seriousness, “as antisocial as Brad can be, I know he’ll make an exception for the man who safeguards me from right-wing loonies and homophobic bigots on a regular basis.”
Gunny patted Nate on the shoulder, his laughter tapering off with another sigh. “Oh, alright, you’ve twisted my arm and hidden my coat. Now I’ve got no choice but to stay.”
“Well, would you look what the cat dragged in?” Lewis Nixon declared as he ambled up to the Federal agent. “Didn’t think I’d ever see you outside of an official campaign function, Agent Wynn.”
“Normally you wouldn’t, Mr. Nixon,” Wynn replied. “But Nate launched a very compelling argument and I just couldn’t tell him no.”
Nixon nodded. “Ah yes, Nate can be remarkably persuasive when he wants to be. Was it the puppy eyes? He used the puppy eyes on you, didn’t he?”
Gunny chuckled.
Nix snapped his fingers. “I knew it. He’s a sneaky one, that Nathaniel. Further proof of his political talents, if you ask me. Because honestly? I don’t think the House of Representatives is going to know what hit it once Nathaniel Fick gets elected to office.” He laid a hand on Gunny Wynn’s shoulder and leaned in as if he were speaking conspiratorially. “Don’t be fooled by Nate’s ‘aw shucks’ smile. Ignore the fact that he barely looks old enough to shave.”
At which point Nate muttered, “Oh come on, Nix…”
“Behind those big soulful eyes with the ridiculously long lashes is a lean, mean, fighting machine with a diplomat’s wit and a predator’s edge,” Nix continued. “Capitol Hill won’t stand a chance against the intellect, charm, and disarming looks of Congressman Fick.” Nixon looked over his shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Brad?”
Brad Colbert smirked as he came up behind Nate Fick, slipping both arms around his husband’s waist and pressing a kiss to the curve of his neck.
Gunny couldn’t help but smile. It warmed his heart to see Nate so happy, so loved. In the eight months following the first threat against Congressional candidate Nathaniel Fick’s life, Special Agent Mike Wynn had come to be good friends with the man whose life and well-being he and his partner, Special Agent Wesley Davis, were charged with protecting. After countless hours spent shadowing Nate on the campaign and driving him back and forth between New York City and Washington DC, Gunny had come to think of the young politician as something of a kid brother.
It was Gunny’s duty as a Federal agent to investigate the person or persons who’d been sending Nate Fick death threats and other hate mail. It was as a favor to his old protégé, Ron Speirs, that Gunny went the extra mile and chose to play bodyguard most of the time when Agent Davis would’ve been fine with taking a turn. But it was Gunny’s own fondness for Nate that made him do things like come over for dinner. Nathaniel Fick wasn’t just a Congressional candidate to be watched over; he was a friend to be taken care of.
Gunny liked Nate and watching him interact with Brad Colbert was a way of remembering what it was like to have someone you loved and wanted to protect more than anything else.
Brad nuzzled Nate’s jaw and stated, “So long as the puppy eyes are the only tool of persuasion from Nate’s ‘playing dirty’ arsenal that he employs, I’d say so.”
Nate laughed, gaped, and turned his head around to look the taller man in the eye. “Brad!”
Brad smirked wider and cupped Nate’s jaw, pulling him into a kiss.
Gunny smirked and looked away while Nix busied himself with getting a beverage. Ella just giggled and then got distracted by the cat.
“I’m going to change out of this suit,” Nate said, breaking away from Brad. He looked to Gunny and told him, “Make yourself at home, Mike. You are staying for dinner.” He annunciated his second sentence quite clearly in a way that brooked no argument.
Gunny chuckled. “Yes, sir.”
Nate laughed and disappeared into the bedroom.
“Food’s ready,” Richard Winters announced as he emerged from the kitchen. “Where’s Nate? I thought I heard him come in.”
“He went to go change out of his monkey suit,” Nix answered.
Ella crinkled her nose in a confused little expression and looked up at her father. “That’s silly, Daddy, Uncle Nate doesn’t dress up like a monkey.”
The men laughed.
“Agent Wynn,” Dick Winters said, “it’s nice to see you outside of Nate’s campaign headquarters.”
“Yep.” Gunny nodded. “Well, apparently I do exist as something beyond Nate’s bodyguard.”
“Oh yeah?” Brad remarked, sounding casual and cutting in the same breath. “What’s that?”
“My friend,” Nate Fick answered on Gunny Wynn’s behalf, reappearing in the same faded Dartmouth shirt and khakis that he’d worn the first time Special Agent Wynn and Special Agent Davis had come to call.
“Any leads with the investigation?” Dick inquired delicately.
Gunny Wynn sighed.
Brad’s eyes darkened and Nate glanced off in another direction. Nix pursed his lips and Dick watched their daughter play with her godfather’s cat, blissfully unaware of the grown-up talk taking place only a few yards away.
“Wes and I have an idea or two,” Gunny replied.
“Good,” Brad said, resting a hand on Nate’s hip. “I hope you track those bigoted inbred sister-fucking sons of bitches down and make them pay.”
“The FBI isn’t a death squad, Brad,” Dick pointed out. “Those criminals will be brought to justice and put in prison, not excuted.”
“Not unless we give Ron a call on the matter,” Nix muttered.
“Ron retired from all that years ago,” Gunny remarked. “But I’m sure the CIA would still be able to work something out…”
“Come on, guys, let’s not discuss this right now,” Nate interjected quietly, walking over and scooping up his goddaughter. “I’d say it’s time for dinner,” he said, raising his voice to a more cheery tone, “don’t you think so, Ella Bella?”
“Yeah!” she chirped, throwing little arms around Nate’s neck. “We were waiting for you.”
“Well, I’m here now,” the young Congressional hopeful said. “So let’s eat.” He shot poignant looks to the other men over Ella’s head as he set her down in her chair.
The others took the cue for what it was meant to be: less talk of death threats, more dinner. An extra place was set for Gunny Wynn, another chair brought over. And then they were once big happy unorthodox family - with the exception of Ronald Speirs and Carwood Lipton, who were in Europe at the moment. They laughed, they chatted, they ate. For a couple of hours they could pretend that one of them wasn’t a Congressional candidate receiving violent anti-gay death threats on a regular basis, one wasn’t an FBI agent investigating said death threats, one wasn’t the disowned son of a wealthy and powerful political family, and so forth and so on. It was a pleasant evening.
“I’m not tired,” Ella insisted even as she yawned. “I don’t wanna go home yet.”
“Oh, but we have to,” Dick Winters said, lifting his daughter off the spot on the sofa where she was snuggling into one of the throw pillows.
“No,” she pouted, squirming.
“You know, Ella Bella,” Lewis Nixon offered, “the sooner we go home, the sooner we can go to bed; and the sooner we get to sleep, the sooner it’ll be tomorrow.”
“Nuh-uh,” she countered, cranky and unconvinced.
“Yeah, I never believed that either,” Nixon muttered, brushing an errant lock of hair from Ella’s face as she yawned again.
“Tomorrow,” she murmured softly, “tomorrow there will be tiggers.”
Eleanor Nixon-Winters was falling asleep on Dick Winters’ shoulder when he and Lewis Nixon began to bid their friends a fond adieu for the night. The Bronx Zoo was a mighty big place and little girls needed all the energy they could muster.
“Ella really got a kick out of the piggy-back rides,” Dick commented, one hand stroking his daughter’s hair.
Gunny chuckled. “I kind of figured as much, what with all the grinning and giggling going on.”
“Well, we ought to get going,” Nix said, checking his watch. “If we’re lucky we can get this little one in bed before she wakes up again.”
“How’re you getting home?” Gunny asked.
“Subway,” Dick replied.
The FBI agent shook his head. “Nonsense, I’m driving you folks. I’ve still got Miss Eleanor’s car seat in the trunk from the last time she tagged along with Nate to DC.”
“Are you sure?” Dick looked apologetic even as he delicately shifted little Ella from one shoulder to the other. “We’d hate to inconvenience you.”
“Not a problem at all,” Gunny insisted. “I wouldn’t feel right letting y’all take the trains when I could just as easily drive you home.”
Nix gave Gunny a friendly pat on the arm. “Thanks, Mike. We owe you one.”
Nathaniel Fick, meanwhile, smiled softly at his guardian and held out the older man’s coat. “Thank you for coming to dinner tonight, Mike,” he said. “I really appreciate it.”
“Thanks for having me,” Gunny responded and meant it. He returned the younger man’s smile easily, infectious as it was.
“I’m sure this is probably all in conflict with FBI guidelines for proper behavior of bodyguards.”
Gunny waved a hand, not making a big deal of it. “No harm, no foul, Nate.”
Nate Fick’s smile grew and he hugged Agent Wynn impulsively. Gunny froze for a moment, unsure of how to react, but the gesture thawed him and he chuckled, patting Nate on the back.
“Get home safe, Mike,” Nate said. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Sure thing.” Gunny nodded and looked over to Brad Colbert. “Goodnight, fellas.”
Brad stuck his hand out, nodded once, and said, “Mike,” with a cool and even stare.
“Brad,” Mike replied, shaking the taller man’s hand.
The two men watched each other for a long moment before the faintest of smiles traced Brad Colbert’s face. Gunny nodded in silent understanding, grinning in his own fashion.
Special Agent Mike Wynn went back to his government-issue black SUV then and drove the Nixon-Winters family back to their home on the Upper West Side. After dropping them off at the Dakota, Mike continued to the hotel he and Agent Wesley Davis were staying at - unable to stop himself from grinning the whole way back. It’d been a long time since he’d felt like part of a family.