Fort Lenordwood, Missouri was hot as hell in the spring, and even hotter in the summer which happened to be the time that Jensen Ackles arrived for basic training (3 page)

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“I think so.”

“Well, hell! Private Furry, Recover. And ONLY Private Furry,” Grabowski said. “At ease!” he demanded of Brendon, who let all of the tension drain out of his body.

Sgt. Connelly stood behind Brendon who was red-faced and wanting to kill himself, just to save the guys the trouble.

“Since Private Furry has decided that I'm fucking up he will watch the rest of you take my punishment for me. You should all thank Private Furry for pointing out this grave injustice,”

Grabowski told the group.

A round of ‘thanks’ and ‘way to go, hero’ were making its way through the soldiers.

“Up!” Grabowski said, as he began to walk through the bodies still on the ground. “If I had
any
idea that I was fucking you up so badly, I would have had Top court martial me. I mean hell, ‘cause if I'm causing the fuck ups, then I should take the responsibility. I'm charged with taking care of you and babysitting your asses. So, anyone else want to tell me how I'm fucking up?” He paused and thought for a moment. “Down.”

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“Ahh, I'm not even doing this right. Fuck it,” he said. “BACK!” With that said every single man flipped over to their back and lifted their legs up a few inches from the ground.

There were already a few grunts and groans when they began to kick their feet up and down. Ryan thought flutter kicks sucked ass. They looked deceptively easy to do until you had to keep your BOOTED feet off of the ground a mere few inches and kick them up and down like you were a fucking cheerleader.

“Furry, do you think that I have learned my lesson?” Phillip asked, turning his full hazel-eyed gaze onto the 'resting' man.

“Yes, Drill Sergeant Grabowski.” Brendon answered, praying the drill would stop this insanity.

“Fuck that, don't be a weak momma's boy, Furry. I fucked up. Make me suffer sooo good.” Phillip had an evil look in his eye when he reached for his bottle of water. Cracking open the top, he took a long, deep drink.

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The fucker was trying to kill them. Ryan wanted a drink of water so badly he was thinking about licking the sweat around his mouth, just to get something wet on his tongue.

“Go!” Phillip called and watched as each of them stood and began to run in place.

“Front!” All of them dropped suddenly, and landed in the up position of the push-up.

As they all looked forward, Phillip took another drink of water, letting it dribble down his chin.

Every single man in the platoon wasn't sure who they hated more - the Drill Sergeant who was mocking them with the ice cold water, or fucking Furry who was standing there all relaxed.

“Back!” The Drill Sergeant wasn't even close to finishing.

What seemed to be hours later, when it had actually only been a few minutes, they were standing in front of their Drill Sergeants, breathing heavily while sweat was running down into their eyes. Ryan cursed his BCG's because the fuckers were fogging up from his overheated breath. BCG stood for Birth Control Glasses because the damn things were so ugly that you 35

would never get laid wearing the damn things. To top it off, they were damn near impossible to break.

“You have thirty seconds to finish off your canteen, privates!” Connelly shouted, as he and Phillip walked over together. “Fall out!”

Ryan snorted. It wouldn't take him fifteen to finish the fucker off, much less thirty seconds. They all ran to their discarded equipment and grabbed their canteens.

But what Ryan learned was that thirty seconds wasn't long enough to finish a full canteen of water. He had to admit that all three of the Drills were good about making them drink water, and keeping a full canteen, but Ryan was feeling water logged after drinking half the canteen.

“Fall in! Bring your canteens with you.” The command came suddenly as Ryan was just finishing the canteen, allowing more to dribble down his chin.

They jogged back over and stood at attention.

“Water check,” Grabowski said.

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Every man lifted his open canteen over his head. Water could be heard splashing onto the hot concrete.

Fuck, just… Ryan sighed and knew he shouldn't have drunk all of his. There was always some idiot who thought they wouldn't check.

“Rosy-Ass, you fuck,” Connelly shouted, racing toward the wet Private. “What did I fucking say? Do you not fucking care?”

“He thinks his daddy will be all over the big bad Drill, Mark. You silly NCO, you,”

Grabowski offered.

“Is that it? You think I'm scared of your daddy, Rosy-Ass? Oh fucking hell, no. Your daddy is nothing but a pogue officer that hasn't seen the outside of his office since his daddy spilled his seed into the unfortunate crack of your granny!” Connelly stormed.

Ryan was beginning to sense that every single drill had something to hold against every single one of their parents because that was a standard. He found out through SSG King that 37

his momma should have swallowed him instead of allowing that damn Gracin guy to knock her up. Speaking of the prick, he was currently headed their way.

As a unit all three Drills set about making their platoon the best damn marching platoon in the land. Around five o'clock they were heading toward the chow hall.

Every single recruit was dead on his feet. They had been going since four o'clock that morning.

The chow hall was cool and Ryan let out a breath of relief. He hated fucking Missouri even more than he hated Grabowski. At that time there was a stir in the line and Ryan looked back. He was seconds from being served his food. But damn if the Drill didn't stop right behind him. He pulled his arms back, folding his hands neatly into his back and yelled the required

“AT EASE, MAKE WAY!”

Every time a Drill came within distance the first solider to see them was to yell 'At ease, make way' so the Drill could move in front of them. Ryan was happy because he had at least four in front of him. That meant SSG Grabowski would move way up ahead of him.

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“Aww, Freckles, I knew you cared.” The Drill sneered and then placed himself BEHIND Ryan.

Ryan decided that God really did hate gays because if he loved gays, the dick behind him would have gone way up front instead of right behind him.

“So Freckles, how are you enjoying Uncle Sam's hospitality?” Phillip asked, with that damn fucking mega-watt smile of his out in full force. If Ryan didn't hate the bastard so much he would totally be hard just from that smile.

This one wasn't a rhetorical question. This one he actually wanted Ryan to answer. “I like it, Drill Sgt. Grabowski” he said, pleased he wasn't giggling at all.

“That is just fucking outstanding, Freckles. Outfuckingstanding!” Phillip exclaimed.

Somehow the line slowed down to a freaking trickle. So Ryan had enough time to find out that Phillip, who was a confirmed asshole, smelled like fucking heaven. He smelled like sunshine and musk. That's when Ryan decided he could most definitely lust after a guy he couldn't fucking stand.

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“Are you going to stand there all fucking day, Freckles? Or are you just staring at the beauty that is me?” Phillip asked. Something flashed across his face but disappeared before Ryan could actually make it out.

Make that Ryan REALLY FUCKING couldn't stand the guy. He actually blushed as he turned forward and grabbed his tray. He was behind Brendon, who was trying like hell to appear like he wasn't listening.

He followed Brendon out to the tables and watched in absolute horror as Brendon walked past their normal table and sat down at the Drills’ personal table. There was a ‘no talking’ rule in the chow hall unless it was the Drills who were doing the talking. So warning Brendon about his HUGE mistake was out of the question. He could see both Kenneth and Patrick staring at their goofy friend in horror too.

“Well, fuck. I told you Furry liked us, guys!” Phillip called, as the other two drills made their way to the table.

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“You were right, Phillip,” Mark said as he sat down beside Brendon. Phillip sat down on the other side. “He thinks he's good enough to sit with us now you know, ‘cause he feels he can tell you exactly how much you were fucking up.”

William just smiled and sat down directly across from him. “So how are ya, buddy?” he asked, picking up his roll.

Ryan, Patrick and Kenneth watched, unable to tear their eyes away.

“Dude, I can't look away. Why can't I look away?” Patrick whimpered softly.

“It's a train wreck,” Kenneth answered in a whisper.

They paused in their conversation when Brendon looked around him, and they swore he was going to have a stroke and die right there.

All three of their cadre were eating and joking it up, expecting Brendon to join in. When the guy didn't they started asking different things of him. 'Pass me the salt.' 'Hey, hand me an extra napkin.' Each time Brendon would do so without a freaking word. Ten minutes into their game they seemed to get bored.

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“Get the FUCK OUT OF MY SEAT, PRIVATE FUZZY!” Drill Sergeant King yelled. In a flurry of movement, he stood and slammed his fist down on the table. The other two drills just watched, mildly amused.

Brendon was up and out of his seat before anything else could be said.

Ryan, Kenneth and Patrick all looked away and back down at their trays, all three shoving food in left and right.

Brendon had nearly made his getaway when Phillip stood up.

“So, you want me to clean up after you too, Private Murray?” The use of his last name caused cold fear to crawl down Ryan's spine. For Drill Sergeant Grabowski to use a last name, they had already learned, meant he was seriously pissed off.

Brendon froze in his retreat, and turned slowly. “N..N...N..No, D...D.. D...Drill Sergeant G..Ga..Grabowski” he stuttered.

SSG Grabowski grabbed his tray and Brendon's, then walked toward Brendon in a slow steady gait. “Am I put on this planet to pick up after you, Private Murray?”

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“N..N. No, Drill Sergeant,” Brendon muttered, standing at attention without being told to.

Grabowski pushed Brendon's tray into the stuttering soldier's arms roughly, causing the glass of milk to spill all over SSG Grabowski 's perfectly-shined shoes.

A pin dropping would have been offensively loud in the silence of the chow hall.

Patrick happened to look over when it happened and the roll he had just bitten into fell out of his mouth. That caused both Ryan and Kenneth to look again. Oh fuck. Ryan could feel himself blushing for Brendon.

“Everyone throw your shit away and get out to formation now,” the Drill Sergeant growled.

For a minute, no one moved. Everyone was too stunned to move.

“I SAID GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW!” Phillip

thundered.

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It was the first time any of them had heard the dark-haired cadre yell and it proved terrifying enough that the sound of screeching chairs scooting across the linoleum filled the air.

Boots thundered across the floor, but no one said a word. Not one single word was uttered.

Once outside they all lined up in a hasty formation. Brendon came out last. Ryan didn't even want to know what happened when they left but he could see tears on Brendon's cheeks.

“I have been fairly nice.” He had? “But, it seems that when I'm fucking nice you take advantage of that. No fucking more. Get the fuck down, Murray,” he said, hissing. “Now, you all know that one table is reserved for us. How dare you
allow
him to sit there all alone? Do you not care what happens to your fellow team mates? Is that what you're fucking learning?”

Brendon dropped down into the front leaning rest position.

Everyone kept their eyes straight forward, but some were going red with shame. “Then you fucking gawk when he's in trouble?” he hissed. “Up!”

Brendon lifted his shaking body off the ground.

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“Is this what we have to look forward to? Who the fuck cares about the man next to him? Fuck them as long as your ass is safe? Is that what this Military has to look forward to?”

Grabowski 's voice was rising ever so slightly. “Down!”

Ryan blinked and for the first time he saw Phillip for what he was. He was a man training boys how to look out for one another - ones who would live and die for the man next to him. He was in third squad, which included Patrick, Kenneth and normally Brendon. Their squad leader was a guy named Justin Smith , who just stood there not doing anything.

Connelly and King came out and flanked Grabowski, staring at them all with unrelenting disgust.

For the first time in Ryan's life he did something no one expected. He broke ranks and joined Brendon on the ground. Patrick followed closely behind and he was followed by Kenneth. The four of them faced their platoon in a show of support for their battle buddy. No matter how fucked up Brendon was he was theirs, therefore all the punishment he got they would take too.

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The three cadres turned as one and watched the battle buddies ready to suffer for each other. A small smile played on Phillip 's face as he commanded them to get up.

“Maybe there's hope,” Phillip said, looking at the others. “The four of you will report to me tomorrow morning for extra PT. You broke rank from a formation,” he said, as he dismissed them to go back into the formation.

***

That night, all four men lay in their beds thinking about the days’ events. Brendon had cried when he got back. Ryan sat on Brendon's bunk and tried to console him but there was nothing doing.

“My father was right, you know. I'm nothing but a fuck-up. He told me when I joined that I'd be nothing more than a big fat loser who couldn't hack it,” Brendon sobbed.

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Patrick sighed and looked at the boy. “Well, fuck him too, Brendon. You don't need that shit any more. You got us.”

Somehow in the space of two weeks the four had forged a bond. It wasn't like the bond they had made with their friends in high school. It was deeper, stronger, one that would last the test of time.

Ryan nodded. “I joined in the middle of my sophomore year in college,” he offered. “I finally told my parents I was gay. They didn't take it well and yanked my support. So my choices were to drop out of college and get a job at a fast food joint or join the military and get my degree that way. Here I am.” He said it quietly, waiting for the explosion. When it never came, he was grateful for the friends he had picked.