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wrennetteTitle: After Action
Fandom: Generation Kill
Pairing: None really. Can be read as GSgt Mike "Gunny" Wynn x Sgt Maj John Sixta preslash, or just buddy!fic.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Characters do not represent real people. Author does not intend to represent real events or persons, nor does author make any profit.
Summary: Gunny Wynn meets up with Sixta after they leave the theater of war.
"I never did thank you," Mike drawled softly, sidling up to Sixta at the bar. Sixta glanced over, gave him that smug little smile that reminded Mike of nothing so much as a pug.
"We all have our roles Gunny," Sixta said, and his tone was softer than Mike had ever heard it before, the smile that curved his lips wry.
"And yours is annoyance and instigator?" Mike said, smiling in return, and Sixta shrugged, his smile broadening slightly.
"Men can't worry too much about the rest of their troubles if they're busy hating me over the thrice damned Grooming Standard." Mike shook his head gently, the smile hanging on the corners of his mouth.
"I feel like I oughta buy you a beer," Mike said after a cold pint had been set in front of him, and Sixta shrugged again.
"I never turn down free beer," he said, and Mike flagged down the bartender. Sixta took a long pull and gave an appreciative sigh, then glanced over at Mike. "You did a good job Gunny," he said, and Mike smiled wryly.
"Mike," he said. "If you don't mind?" Sixta shook his head with a smile, clapping his hand on Mike's shoulder.
"Don't mind at all Mike," he said. "Don't mind at all."
They had a few more beers together, by unspoken agreement talking about their lives back home rather than the war zone they had so recently been deployed in. It seemed like they had only just started talking, but when Mike looked away from Sixta, it was full dark outside and there was a different bartender on duty.
"Guess we should be finding our racks," Sixta said, more jovial than a man really ought to be at that hour of the morning, and Mike nodded, taking care of his tab.
"Guess so," he drawled out, and weariness hit him hard as he stood. He flattened his palm against the seat of the barstool, and Sixta's broad shoulder angled just right under his arm to steady him.
"Maybe shouldn'ta had that last one," Mike said softly, and Sixta chortled, securing his arm around Mike's waist. "'Preciate that Sar'nt Major," Mike drawled, and Sixta gave him a companionable squeeze.
"John," Sixta said with gentle force. "You kin call me John". Mike smiled, and allowed himself to lean a bit more heavily on John.
"John," he breathed almost to himself. "Don' mind if I do". They stumbled out of the bar together, and for the first time in a long time, Mike let go, let someone take care of him for a change.
Fandom: Generation Kill
Pairing: None really. Can be read as GSgt Mike "Gunny" Wynn x Sgt Maj John Sixta preslash, or just buddy!fic.
Rating: G
Disclaimer: Characters do not represent real people. Author does not intend to represent real events or persons, nor does author make any profit.
Summary: Gunny Wynn meets up with Sixta after they leave the theater of war.
"I never did thank you," Mike drawled softly, sidling up to Sixta at the bar. Sixta glanced over, gave him that smug little smile that reminded Mike of nothing so much as a pug.
"We all have our roles Gunny," Sixta said, and his tone was softer than Mike had ever heard it before, the smile that curved his lips wry.
"And yours is annoyance and instigator?" Mike said, smiling in return, and Sixta shrugged, his smile broadening slightly.
"Men can't worry too much about the rest of their troubles if they're busy hating me over the thrice damned Grooming Standard." Mike shook his head gently, the smile hanging on the corners of his mouth.
"I feel like I oughta buy you a beer," Mike said after a cold pint had been set in front of him, and Sixta shrugged again.
"I never turn down free beer," he said, and Mike flagged down the bartender. Sixta took a long pull and gave an appreciative sigh, then glanced over at Mike. "You did a good job Gunny," he said, and Mike smiled wryly.
"Mike," he said. "If you don't mind?" Sixta shook his head with a smile, clapping his hand on Mike's shoulder.
"Don't mind at all Mike," he said. "Don't mind at all."
They had a few more beers together, by unspoken agreement talking about their lives back home rather than the war zone they had so recently been deployed in. It seemed like they had only just started talking, but when Mike looked away from Sixta, it was full dark outside and there was a different bartender on duty.
"Guess we should be finding our racks," Sixta said, more jovial than a man really ought to be at that hour of the morning, and Mike nodded, taking care of his tab.
"Guess so," he drawled out, and weariness hit him hard as he stood. He flattened his palm against the seat of the barstool, and Sixta's broad shoulder angled just right under his arm to steady him.
"Maybe shouldn'ta had that last one," Mike said softly, and Sixta chortled, securing his arm around Mike's waist. "'Preciate that Sar'nt Major," Mike drawled, and Sixta gave him a companionable squeeze.
"John," Sixta said with gentle force. "You kin call me John". Mike smiled, and allowed himself to lean a bit more heavily on John.
"John," he breathed almost to himself. "Don' mind if I do". They stumbled out of the bar together, and for the first time in a long time, Mike let go, let someone take care of him for a change.
