indigo_angels

Hannibal:-
The kid’s been driving me fucking crazy all day. No matter how much shit I’ve passed his way, he’s spent the whole time grinning like an idiot and making constant references to his many conquests; not that he can even remember all their names of course. If it weren’t for the other units we were training with, I wouldn’t have been able to restrain myself from tearing a strip off his arrogant backside.

I turn the shower up a notch, trying to scald all the damn sand off my skin and wonder for the millionth time just what the hell he thinks he is doing with himself. Half the idiots on exercises with us today looked at him like he was a sex god or something, while the other half, BA leading the field on this one, just looked at him like he’d crawled out from under a rock.

I know which camp I’m in.

It’s burning me up inside, hearing all the details of his nights of debauchery; what universe does he live in where that is ever acceptable? It’s no wonder none of his relationships ever last. Apart from one, my self-destructive streak reminds me, and that just shows how much of a hold Sosa had on him. I can feel myself frowning, and I thought I couldn’t possibly hate that woman any more than I already did.

All I asked him to do was keep up appearances, not start ignoring women in bars, not start ignoring the flirting that seems to follow him around wherever he goes, maybe even score every now and again. I certainly never asked him to embark on his own sexual marathon.

Twenty minutes later I’m in their quarters, thinking that maybe me and the kid might have a little chat, see if we can’t work out what’s been going on, but he’s not there, only BA.

“Where are the others?” I ask grabbing a beer from the cooler and sitting opposite him while he methodically takes his gun to pieces for cleaning.

“Drinkin’,” he replies without looking up.

And I nod. Okay. Drinking with Face will undoubtedly turn to fucking before too long and I sigh as I realise that we’ll all be treated to a repeat performance of today at breakfast tomorrow morning. Fucking great.

I hear BA’s sigh and look up as he sets his gun down on the table. “They’ve not been gone long, man... Why don’t you head out an’ catch them up?”

Slowly I started pulling the label off the bottle thinking it over.

_____________________

Even though it’s a Wednesday night, the place is packed, but it still doesn’t take me long to spot Murdock at the bar. By himself. I’ve no desire to watch another Templeton Peck porn show, but the set of Murdock’s shoulders is ringing alarms in my head so I grit my teeth and wade through the masses to my pilot’s side.

“Hey,” I clap his shoulder and signal for a beer, “Where’s your buddy?”

I see Murdock sit himself up a bit and make the effort to brighten up, but he’s not fooling me and I curse Face for dragging him out just to witness his latest conquest. He nods to the end of the bar and I feel my gut clench as I pick him out. Arm round some six foot brunette I don’t recognise. Tongue down her throat. Hand up her skirt. And something inside me just snaps.

“Murdock, come on,” I growl, yanking on his arm and dragging him out of the door. It’s either that or storm over there and tug that hand out of that brunette’s goddamn pants and haul Face by his hair back to my bed.

And that wouldn’t look good. Not at all.

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