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The narrow room looks pretty different from the way it did the last time he brought Neil back here. Tunny doesn't dwell on it; people tell him that his shit'll come back, and he's hanging his hopes on that. Neil's was right: he's freezing by the time they get back and he wastes not time before he's reaching in to pull Neil in close against him, ( Read more... ) -
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He's got a fairly good idea of where this is going. They've been at the fair all night and he's cultivating a pretty awesome sugar high. In the corridor, he pulls her in against his body, bending his head to kiss her. They've been staying over most nights, lately, not even pretending that it's about anything other than fooling about ( Read more... ) -
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For a long moment, he's content to just stand there in the kitchen with her, her arms around his waist, his chin resting against the top of her head. His fingers stir through her hair and then he pulls back a little, offering her his hand again ( Read more... ) -
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It's a really stupid idea. It's a completely fucking stupid idea. She's going to think he's a complete dick. But...she was sweet to him and she's really fucking pretty and then there's the fact that she's kind of torn up too and, maybe, that's what matters more than being whole ( Read more... ) -
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People keep telling him that it's not going to last and, Jesus, he hopes so. There's no way he's getting used to this. Mace was actually pretty helpful, earlier, helped him to find cargo shorts and a tank top which fit, the pants long enough in the leg to hide his stump, more or less. He's absolutely ignoring the way that this body reacted to ( Read more... ) -
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Something isn't right. He realises that before he's even awake. He's been having fractured, strange dreams and he wakes up, pressing the curtain of hair back from his face. He frowns. He stretches. He suddenly ( Read more... ) -
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It's fucking awful, but at least it's not lying on his back in the bed. He's in the chair and he's getting used to steering it around the clinic and the compound. The leg of his combats is rolled and pinned so at least nobody has to look at the stump, but it couldn't be clearly that that's what's wrong with him. That he's fucking crippled now. ( Read more... ) -
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He's pretty sure that it's Heather that he dreams of. She doesn't talk to him and he doesn't really see her, but he's lying there with his head in he rlap and she's smoothing her hand over his hair. In the dream, he wonders why it's her and not Will, but she smells good and she's close and gentle and he wants to stay with her, for a while ( Read more... ) -
Baghdad...she's a mean old town...
There's comfort in routine. In the morning, he rolls out of his rack and he dresses, pulls on heavy camos in the dry, desert heat. He scrubs both hands back over his hair and, as pretty much always, he thinks about Will and Johnny. He wonders if the baby's been born. He wonders if Johnny's managed to kill himself yet. In his kit-bag, there's ( Read more... )