Sexy And I Know It

Things are falling fast

Sun kissed skin is fading at last

Memories of you

A fragile seed in bloom

The room we shared our dreams

Will carve our breath onto heated sheets

As winter's frozen frames

Bleed into our childlike ways

This time we won't let go

To live like we did

We're too young to know

The wine we sipped was dry

The sweet taste of a last goodbye

The room we shared our dreams

Will carve our breath on heated sheets

And memories of you

He’s good at reading people, blessed with an emotional intelligence that most people would scoff at. When they look at Chris Williams, they see a player, an insatiable hedonist who fucks who he wants, charms who he wants and cares little for any consequences in between. His success in relating to others is always accredited to his ability to sweet talk his way through life and never because he actually possesses an excellent grasp on what makes people tick. 

Chris hasn’t cared about the image the world sees of him, not for a long time. Accepting himself was the hardest, but with a found family who proclaimed to see the good in him, he started to see it too. He thrives off of others, loves them, needs them. A textbook extrovert. But in living as honestly and openly as he does, he’s become a student of human body language. It’s a handy trick for a Special Ops soldier, but handier still for helping him understand when he might of crossed a line. 

He doesn’t think he’s crossed one here, but that doesn’t mean that he misses the slight flush to Olivier’s features. It’s embarrassment, but carefully contained. He hopes that he hasn’t overstepped, making a mental note for the third time already to try and stop being quite so brazenly himself, at least for now. It helps that Olivier is already bantering with him again, even if his joke about fighting him as every hair at the nape of his neck standing on end. 

If only you knew... 

“I can be up before God himself for the right kind of guy.” He laughs. “Although fighting you sounds like a challenge. Though I should warn you, I’m quicker than I look.” 

It’s a relief to find himself in the barracks, although it’s quieter than he’d imagined, the distant, lingering scent of wet paint hitting his nostrils. Their footsteps are the only sound as they make their way down the hall, the only distraction that shit eating grin on Olivier’s face as he turns on his heel to give him more shit. 

It’s a hell of a sight. 

“Are you kidding? I look cute as hell.” There’s a tinge of truth to the mock offense in his voice, his vanity always an Achilles heel. He smooths his hands down the well worn khaki t shirt that clings to his skin, dog tags jangling. “ Maybe a look this classic just doesn’t translate.” 

Olivier’s got the right idea picking the two rooms at the back and Chris grins, surveying his options from over his shoulder. He figures he and his knew best friend are about to be neighbours, which is already doing all kinds of things to his resolve. He’s been offered a choice, but the smart thing would be to go for the room that isn’t directly in front of Olivier. Deciding to be as much of an asshole as possible instead, he slinks through the narrow gap in between Olivier and the door, tossing his back pack onto the bunk. 

Thinking with his pants comes natural to Toad, always has for as long as he’s had an interest. Wearing his heart on his sleeve is another, although there’s some emotions he wears far more proudly than others. As he follows Olivier, he’s struck by the strange realisation of how new everything suddenly is. Back in the 141, life was routine even at its most insane. He was a big fish in a small pond, well established, the guy whose reputation almost always preceded him. He never realised how secure he’d got within the safety of that, knowing that even FNGs to the task force knew exactly what to expect from him on day one. Even then, there was always back up, Nick and Bones never far behind to remind anyone he accidentally pissed off that deep down he was a pretty stand up guy. 

He doesn’t have that now which only highlights just how much he misses it. 

He hadn’t intended to approach a guy who ticked the boxes of his preferences like some cheesy dating site, and yet here he was,striding after his new friend like a kid on his first day of middle school. Maybe this transfer wouldn’t be the breeze he’d insisted to himself that it would be. 

 “I’m pretty happy with the company I’ve got going on now, for what’s its worth.” The words come out with another characteristic over confident smile, reinforced a little by the fact that Olivier almost trips and falls because he’s too busy looking at him and not the path ahead. It feels like steadier ground, somehow. “Besides, can’t exactly ditch you after you saved me from some seriously awkward after sex chit chat with the running security around here.” He winks. “I already owe you.” 

He’d cringe at the way Olivier teases him for his shitty French, but in reality, he’d only done it to get out a laugh out of his handsome features. He’s rewarded in kind as he watches Olivier splutter at him, gesticulating in a way that only makes his grin widen. It’s a hell of a good view, good enough that Chris himself nearly trips himself thanks to the distraction. Instead he catches himself, shaking his head and bumping the man’s arm with his elbow in a way that’s probably way too familiar for how little they’ve known each other. 

Ah well. They’re brothers in arms now, right? 

They near the barracks building, Olivier slowing in his strides as they near the door. It’s a mundane enough building, but at this point Chris is eager to dump his stuff and get to the fun part about learning what makes this new team tick. 

“Tomorrow morning is a gym date then, yeah?” He grins. “Do I need to bring my own bear, or do you guys have them as standard?” Feeling heartened by Olivier’s teasing words he makes a grand gesture of stepping forward, bowing dramatically like a overly chivalrous man in a black and white movie as he opens the door for him 

The second Jeff hears Chris; the tension eases from his shoulders as though a puppet master has cut his strings.

It’s a dark world they live in, now. Threats around every corner – in every breath they take. Jeff keeps going because that’s what he does. Soldiering on in the face of insurmountable odds. He’s gotten fucking good at survival. Mastering the art of it in a way very few could. Yet… several years with a man that’d dedicated himself to coaxing out Jeff’s rare smile, and laugh, had taught him that surviving… wasn’t enough.

For a man that’d lost his wife, his daughter to a fractured marriage – it had been enough. At the time, throwing himself further into his career had been the answer. Rotating months upon months of deployments, with quiet, lonely nights in a one bedroom apartment, and the occasional visit down to his parents. They loved him unconditionally, but there’d always been an underlying frustration there – born out of Jeff’s inability to hold a family together. If he’d been a better husband, a better father, then maybe they’d have had more time with their niece. Maybe they could have had a daughter-in-law, who could fill the void while he was off playing war.

Then, Chris had… chosen him?

There’s really no other way that Jeff can phrase it, because this was Chris. A man who’d been spoilt for choice over options, but had, for reasons Jeff sometimes still struggled to understand, had gone for his ungrateful arse. Even when Jeff pushed him away. Even when he’d done things that should have cut the legs right out from under their budding relationship. Chris had stayed. Had refused to leave his side. Giving trust, and love, and a warmth that hadn’t forced Jeff to do better, but had made him want to.

If he loses Chris now… Jeff isn’t sure he can hold it together. Isn’t sure if he’d want to try.

Sharp gaze adjusting to the low light, Jeff doesn’t quite stop frowning as Chris comes out to greet him – understanding on some level that something was wrong. It does smooth out a little, though, when the spotter is close enough that Jeff can make out the trademark smile, close enough that Chris beats him to the punch and reaches out to touch him. Jeff responds on instinct, gloved hand flicking up to brush lightly across the younger man’s cheek, grazing across scars with an intimacy that’s easier to show without prying eyes.

‘Depends on what you count as successful,’ he says, voice gruff – his nose picking up the tell-tale smell of oil, machinery. Jeff gets the impression that there might be black smears on his jacket, now, but it hardly concerns him. ‘Doubt these little buggers are going to feed us for long.’

A tug on his arm and he moves willingly, booted feet following Chris over to a pit of glowing embers – wood supply depleted enough that there is hardly any flame. Jeff guesses that somebody has fucked off to fix that, as Chris comes at him with a blanket and no small amount of fuss. Anybody else and Jeff would have shrugged off the concern, but somewhere along the line, he’d learned to listen to his spotter – the lesson taught, rather sternly, by Chris himself. ‘… Fucking cold weather does that to you, Chris.’

It’s rough, but more amused than anything – Jeff unslinging the rabbits on his shoulder, gaze flicking away briefly to check on the silhouette of Nick further back in the room. He’s bundled up in blankets, sleeping, or unconscious – a little lantern glowing brightly next to him. There’s a steady rise and fall to his chest, and Jeff is faintly surprised that neither Lara or Matthias appear to be nearby. That was odd, but he doesn’t dwell on it – running a hand through his own damp hair before turning his attention back to Chris, and the promise of coffee. Even shit coffee was better than water, or badly cooked game meat.

‘Wasn’t much of an adventure,’ Jeff remarks after a few beats, having wandered over to the coffee pot and collected himself a mug. ‘Ice froze over the rocks we usually climb down. Had to hunt around nearby, and there wasn’t a whole fucking lot. We’ll be in trouble if it doesn’t thaw out soon. Will need a pulley system and a two-man team to get down without breaking our bloody necks…’

He takes a sip of his drink, enjoying the heat, if not the taste. ‘Seems like you might have had more excitement. Designated babysitter and mechanic, eh? The fuck happened?’

It’s just a simple touch, but that doesn’t matter. As those fingers ghost across his cheek, Chris knows that Jeff is feeling that same relief of being reunited. For a moment, he allows himself to cover Jeff’s hand with his own, glove cold beneath his fingers.

It feels wrong to dwell on his own scars when Nick is still so ill, the wounds he endured at the hands of Shadow Company far worse than his own. And yet the scars on his face and body have hurt him more than Chris lets on, damaged what remained of the ‘old’ Chris Williams, with all of his arrogance and vanity. These days he barely recognises himself some days, but regardless of it all he still sees the same reflection in Archer’s eyes. So much has changed and yet the old man still looks at him the same, still feels the same. It’s unconditional, the same love that Chris feels when he returns his gaze. It’s what is truly keeping Chris going through this shitstorm that they call survival. 

There’s no living past those eyes.

He rolls his eyes at Jeff’s sarcasm,choosing to rise above it. Instead he takes the string of rabbits from him and hangs them from a makeshift hook embedded in the ceiling before returning to Jeff’s side, sitting himself down beside the dying fire. His fingers are freezing, the generator forcing him to work without gloves and so he holds out his hands, absorbing a little of the warmth for himself. 

“Pulley system, huh?” Chris grunts in disapproval, not at Archer’s statement but its ramifications. They’re already scraping by, practically self sufficient bar the occasional trade with the locals for the things they can’t make on their own. Any kind of pulley system would take a lot of time and resources, never mind being a potential sign post should SC decide to come knocking, but Chris is smart enough to know that Jeff is right; the potential loss of any of them is an even greater risk. He huffs.

“Next time take me with you, huh? Rock climbing used to be my thing, maybe I can spot a different route.” He shrugs. “Even if I can’t, won’t hurt you to have someone out there watching your ass for a change, right?” 

There’s silence as Jeff sips his drink but when he speaks again his voice seems a little softer, as though the coffee is thawing him from the inside out. Chris returns his question with a soft smile, although its weakened as ever by the fact that his best friend even needs a babysitter in the first place. 

“...”

Send “voicemail” to hear my muse’s drunken voice messages they leave on your muse’s phone

“Sparky…. Sparkaaaaaaayyyyyyy. You better not be asleep kid because I fuckin’ need you. I may have misplaced my ID tags somewhere. Kinda hoping they are in my bunk ‘cos otherwise MacTavish is gonna have my balls for a necklace. Fuck that would suck, I’m kinda attached to those little guys, y’know? 

*Angry yelling in the background* 

…’cuse my friend. I’m out by the front gate, security is being a hardass and won’t let me in even though he sure as shit knows who I am. I need you to come and vouch for me so this fuckin’ SOB lets me sleep. Flash your tags at him, kill him. At this point I don’t care so long as I can get back to my bunk. 

*pause*

1. What are your thoughts on call out posts?

[I’m not really a call out kinda gal at least if we’re talking about the negative kind. I’m a softie who doesn’t like confrontation, so you’d have to get me really riled up to ever make one and even then it would likely more sarcastic than anything else. But in truth, I’d much rather deal with things privately one on one than air dirty laundry out for the world to see.]

2. How long have you been rping?

[Since I was 17 maybe? Too fucking long really :-P]

3. If you’ve been rping on Tumblr since 2012 or the years before that, is it different than what it once was?

[I feel like old Grandmother Time of the CoD fandom, so I have indeed been around that long. As for RPing, it’s got more complicated over the years thanks to this website and its self destructive tendencies. Groups grow and shrink, dramas come and go and the RP circle of life continues ever onwards.]

4. Which one of your muses is the most active?

[Hahahahaha. Depends on my muse. Lara @bonesofthe141 and Chris are my go to blogs though.]

5. Which one of your muses was short-lived?

[Adam. He never really saw the light of the day even though his blog is still out there somewhere.]

6. What is one muse you don’t see yourself ever stop rping as?

[Probably Chris and Lara again. They are my most treasured OCs of all time and I will likely cling to them forever in some shape or form.]

7. Which fandom do you want to rp in or crossover to with your muse?

[Mass Effect, Mass Effect, Mass Effect, MASS EFFECT. Also Fallout. But really, Chris needs a MASS EFFECT verse like... yesterday.]

8. If there is one thing you can change about the role play community on Tumblr, what would it be?