Standard Issue
Oct. 30th, 2010 08:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Face/Murdock
Rating: pg
Warnings: none
Summary: A fill for this post on the original kink meme.
Face/Murdock
Sharing a sleeping bag
Face and Murdock... share a sleeping bag! Awwww.....
Face woke to the thump of a heavy body on top of his, and damnit, did this really need to be happening again tonight?
The Army issued crap sleeping bags, in Face’s professional opinion. The Army issued crap everything, except for the bags of M&Ms you got in MREs. But MREs were crap, too. Face liked neither the approved sleeping or feeding arrangements, and had the ability to do something about it, which was why the team got butcher-fresh pork chops in Iraq, and why Face had his own, top of the line, down-filled, extra-large, double-lined sleeping bag that could make even the worst cot feel like a bed in an Charleston bed and breakfast.
Friggin’ perfect. The only problem with it was that Murdock liked it a little too much.
Face tried to go back to sleep as the weight of his friend settled in above him, considering his options. He’d already tried getting Murdock one of his own bags, exact same brand and everything. But the other man didn’t use it that often, and had started to get into the really annoying habit of sleepwalking (or perhaps not, who knew this stuff for sure?) in the night, and falling asleep on top of Face’s bag.
He’d tried switching them, moving his cot around, all that. Nothing worked. At least three nights a week, he’d wake to find Murdock snoring contentedly away, torso flopped across him with a hand or two scraping the splintered particleboard floor. What he normally did was retrieve his clean boxers from the inside of the bag, unzip and disentangle himself, pick Murdock up and deposit the still-sleeping pilot back in his own bag.
Murdock never woke up during this process, but always seemed a little out of it, well, a little more out of it the day after. Like he wasn’t sleeping well. Hannibal was starting to get worried and BA was downright fatalistic about it; the crazies were one thing, but that eight hours of crew rest was no laughing matter.
Struggling over to lay on his side, for better breathing, Face felt a sudden stab of guilt. It was starting to edge into winter here, and despite what folks back home seemed to think about Iraq, it got cold at night. It was always cold when he put Murdock back in his own bed. It had to cold out there right now. Army tents weren’t worth crap at keeping out the weather.
And, he had to admit, listening to Murdock breath, hearing his breath, the soft pressure of lungs expanding and contracting, night after night, was starting to drive him a little nuts. Face didn’t do well without physical contact, and most military women around here were fat, married or enlisted. Useless.
Murdock was none of those three.
He shifted again, and this time, heard an audible grunt from Murdock as his arms tightened down around him like a limpet, a reedy little “Face” mixed in there with it.
Defeated, the lieutenant unzipped his bag, but instead of getting out, he pulled the pilot in, careful not to wake him as he slid the warm, sleepy body in next to his. Face hated tight spaces normally, but now there was just something sweet about the way Murdock seemed to fit in perfectly, with nothing missing, and nothing spilling out as he zipped them back in.
He brought an arm up around the pilot’s chest and sniffed his hair. Smoke and anti-freeze, JP-8 jet fuel and rubber. Perfect.
“Mmm,” the other man mumbled in his sleep, and turned his cheek into Face’s neck. His eyes snapped open, curiously bright in the darkness. “You’re all nekkid, Facey.”
“Everyone knows you sleep naked in a mummy bag, Murdock. Keeps you warmer. Now shut up and go to sleep.”
Murdock wiggled, pressing in closer. The last thing Face heard as he was drifting off was the pilot’s whispered, “I’ll take mine off then, tomorrow,” and the dim beating of the other man’s heart.
And somehow, that worked for him.
Rating: pg
Warnings: none
Summary: A fill for this post on the original kink meme.
Face/Murdock
Sharing a sleeping bag
Face and Murdock... share a sleeping bag! Awwww.....
Face woke to the thump of a heavy body on top of his, and damnit, did this really need to be happening again tonight?
The Army issued crap sleeping bags, in Face’s professional opinion. The Army issued crap everything, except for the bags of M&Ms you got in MREs. But MREs were crap, too. Face liked neither the approved sleeping or feeding arrangements, and had the ability to do something about it, which was why the team got butcher-fresh pork chops in Iraq, and why Face had his own, top of the line, down-filled, extra-large, double-lined sleeping bag that could make even the worst cot feel like a bed in an Charleston bed and breakfast.
Friggin’ perfect. The only problem with it was that Murdock liked it a little too much.
Face tried to go back to sleep as the weight of his friend settled in above him, considering his options. He’d already tried getting Murdock one of his own bags, exact same brand and everything. But the other man didn’t use it that often, and had started to get into the really annoying habit of sleepwalking (or perhaps not, who knew this stuff for sure?) in the night, and falling asleep on top of Face’s bag.
He’d tried switching them, moving his cot around, all that. Nothing worked. At least three nights a week, he’d wake to find Murdock snoring contentedly away, torso flopped across him with a hand or two scraping the splintered particleboard floor. What he normally did was retrieve his clean boxers from the inside of the bag, unzip and disentangle himself, pick Murdock up and deposit the still-sleeping pilot back in his own bag.
Murdock never woke up during this process, but always seemed a little out of it, well, a little more out of it the day after. Like he wasn’t sleeping well. Hannibal was starting to get worried and BA was downright fatalistic about it; the crazies were one thing, but that eight hours of crew rest was no laughing matter.
Struggling over to lay on his side, for better breathing, Face felt a sudden stab of guilt. It was starting to edge into winter here, and despite what folks back home seemed to think about Iraq, it got cold at night. It was always cold when he put Murdock back in his own bed. It had to cold out there right now. Army tents weren’t worth crap at keeping out the weather.
And, he had to admit, listening to Murdock breath, hearing his breath, the soft pressure of lungs expanding and contracting, night after night, was starting to drive him a little nuts. Face didn’t do well without physical contact, and most military women around here were fat, married or enlisted. Useless.
Murdock was none of those three.
He shifted again, and this time, heard an audible grunt from Murdock as his arms tightened down around him like a limpet, a reedy little “Face” mixed in there with it.
Defeated, the lieutenant unzipped his bag, but instead of getting out, he pulled the pilot in, careful not to wake him as he slid the warm, sleepy body in next to his. Face hated tight spaces normally, but now there was just something sweet about the way Murdock seemed to fit in perfectly, with nothing missing, and nothing spilling out as he zipped them back in.
He brought an arm up around the pilot’s chest and sniffed his hair. Smoke and anti-freeze, JP-8 jet fuel and rubber. Perfect.
“Mmm,” the other man mumbled in his sleep, and turned his cheek into Face’s neck. His eyes snapped open, curiously bright in the darkness. “You’re all nekkid, Facey.”
“Everyone knows you sleep naked in a mummy bag, Murdock. Keeps you warmer. Now shut up and go to sleep.”
Murdock wiggled, pressing in closer. The last thing Face heard as he was drifting off was the pilot’s whispered, “I’ll take mine off then, tomorrow,” and the dim beating of the other man’s heart.
And somehow, that worked for him.
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Date: 2011-06-03 07:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-03 12:00 pm (UTC)