#semperfimotherfxcker

Christine just gazed coolly back at Sarge. “I don’t have to fight you, Sergeant Kelly. I have no problems with you, provided you show up on schedule for your physicals. If you don’t, there won’t be a place you can hide from me.” She grinned at him. “Then again, if you don’t show for a Marine Corps required exam, I will be the least of your worries.”

|| Dude, Demon Hunter!! 

“…the fuck! They made you a Trading Card? Where the Fuck is My Trading Card??" 

He was careful. With Tom, John had to tread lightly when it came to the line. Seemed the longer they knew one another, the more it got pushed. Sometimes, John thought it was obliterated all together.

Licking his lips, he side-eyed the larger man, but held his ground. Everything was about strength with Tom. And holding his ground was a good way to keep the man from losing it and putting his ass in a sling.

Unbidden, John thought back to one of their earlier meetings. Before he'd learned to just stand his ground. Then, he'd just called the man Sarge. Wouldn't have dreamed of calling him Tom. And Sarge had put him in the infirmary for three days.

(I do what I can)

He'd been on his way down to his footlocker so he could grab a pair of skivvies and a shower. Sarge had been kicking their asses on the O-Course and he was ready to clean up and be unconscious.

Well, until an arm stopped him.

"I belong to the Corps." He corrected, baiting Sarge. He knew the larger man would react to the correction and he was banking on something that would involve a little contact.

John glared from where he was wiping blue shit and thicker things from one of the dead bugs from his face and shirt.