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 (5 page)

“Bench-press the fucker, Gracin. I want you to feel the weight. I want you to realize that this fucking piece of metal and plastic is all that stands between you and death. Every fucking time you drop it you are fucking killing yourself or someone who will be depending on you to protect them,” Grabowski barked. “Count them the fuck off.”

“One!” Ryan yelled, as he pulled the weapon down, and lifted it back up in rapid session.

He paused in the up position.

“Freeze!” Grabowski ordered, and walked around Ryan. “Your pretty-boy looks probably had you coasting through life, not realizing that there are things bigger than your fucking ego.

Down!”

Phillip was stalking him like a fucking lion going in for the kill. Ryan brought the gun down. “Two!”

“You treat this weapon like it's some bitch! A weapon like this is not a one-night-stand, Gracin. This fucker deserves to be caressed. Kiss it like you mean it, Private!”

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Ryan blinked. Did he seriously want him to kiss the fucking weapon? When Phillip glared at him, Ryan decided that he did really want him to kiss it. So, he brought it down to his lips and placed a chaste kiss on the stock.

“Tell me something, Private Gracin, do you ever get fucking laid? If that is how you kiss when you mean it? I seriously doubt it. You're a fucking pussy virgin, aren't you?”

Well, saying it like that, Ryan figured he was. He hadn't ever been with a girl before. So, he WAS a pussy virgin.

“Up!” Phillip moved lethally. Ryan was sure he never saw a man move with as much grace and pure sex in his life. He quickly grabbed the rifle out of Ryan's hands.

“Now, pay attention, Private. This is how you kiss it to mean it.” Phillip leaned in and placed a soft, yet way too fucking arousing kiss on Ryan's M16. Ryan’s eyes went wide. “You fucking caress it and love on it, Gracin. You don't drop it on the fucking ground.” He sighed with disgust. “Down!”

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Well, to Ryan's way of thinking, if he could get Grabowski to show him that kiss again, he would take real good care of his baby, because the bitch had gotten the one thing Ryan had been dreaming about since he first saw the crazy bastard.

Fifteen minutes later Ryan was dragging his ass behind the Drill, quietly walking back to his spot. Who knew a light weight piece of shit M16 was so fucking heavy after bench pressing the bitch for twenty fucking minutes straight?

“Was it good for you?” Patrick asked, with a smirk.

***

They were going into their fourth week, and things seemed to get easier. Even the Drill Sergeants were backing off slightly. Ryan still found himself the butt of most of Grabowski's jokes but it wasn't that bad. Hell, he was harboring a huge, fucking crush on the man.

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Patrick had been the first to figure it out. He just smiled knowingly at Ryan and didn't say a word.

It was Sunday afternoon and they had a 'day off'. Drill Sergeant King was inside, actually bullshitting with some of the guys. .

Patrick, Ryan, Brendon, and Kenneth had gone outside and sat under a tree.

“Where are you going after basic?” Brendon asked.

“Ft. Knox, I'm 19D Cav Scout,” Ryan answered.

“Dude, so am I!” Patrick exclaimed. Both men gave each other smiles.

“What about you?” Ryan asked.

“19D, same as you guys!” Brendon exclaimed.

“91W, Ft. Sam Houston.” Kenneth smiled at Brendon. “Dude, we'll need shit when we’re out in the desert.”

“Ahh, hell, Kenneth is gonna be a medic?” Patrick laughed.

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“Hell, yeah, you guys are gonna need someone to patch your asses up when they get shot to hell.”

“Damn, I'm freaking tired. I wonder if they have any idea how much they are killing us?”

Brendon whined.

“It's their sole mission in life. To fucking kill us and have Uncle fucking Sam put us back together,” Patrick answered.

“There is a rumor that Grabowski is gay,” Kenneth said. “That’s why he’s a hardass. He gets off on our sweat.”

“Oh that's bullshit. No way can that man be gay. He takes being a man way too fucking seriously!” Brendon exclaimed. “What does your gaydar say?” he asked Ryan.

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Dude, just because a man is gay doesn't mean he wants to be a fucking girl,” he said. He doubted that Grabowski was gay himself but fuck, that would be really cool. He failed to object to the gaydar comment because, well, to be frank, his gaydar sucked.

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“Hey, did you guys hear about the Davis Club? It's down the road and open on Sundays.

I heard the Drill Sergeants can't even enter!” Kenneth said.

All four guys turned, and looked at him. No Drill Sergeants? Holy crap. “We have to go,” Brendon said, nodding his head vigorously.

***

They all decided to risk the wrath of King, just to get into a place where the Drills couldn't go. They used every ounce of knowledge between them to locate a way to sneak out and head straight for the club.

Once inside, all of them grinned.

“This is fucking great!” Brendon yelled, over the music.

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“Oh my god, is that a girl? Seriously, dude!” Kenneth hit Patrick hard enough to cause the smaller man to stumble. “Oh, fuck me. That is a girl with TITS!” For five weeks all the guys had been bitching about the lack of military females, or how the females that they did see were fucking scarier than Grabowski, and that was saying a whole helluva lot.

Patrick was staring at a pretty blond, and smiled at her. “Oh yeah, boys, I hate to break this up but I see a blond and she's got my name all over her.” He strolled off, leaving the rest behind. Shortly after that Kenneth walked off to chat up another girl.

Ryan and Brendon both still stood close to the door. “Dude, go dance. I'll be alright,”

Ryan coaxed.

“Nah, I've got Sophia back home; she'd be upset. But I'm gonna go grab some drinks, ok?” Brendon said, while they claimed an abandoned table. Ryan sat down and tapped his feet to the music.

He had a feeling someone was staring at him. But he figured it was his over-active imagination.

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He decided it was a good time to go to the restroom.

Before he was able to get there, he felt a strong hand reach out and grab him. He found himself against the wall so quickly he didn't have time to make a sound. Then he didn't even think about making a sound when a pair of hard lips slammed on top of his.

In a normal situation, Ryan would have fought against the hold, but there was something vaguely familiar about the hands holding him in place.

A tongue pushed back his lips and dared him to respond. That's all the encouraging he needed. He bucked to life and began to duel the questing tongue for dominance. A hard thigh worked its way between his knees and forced them apart. It seemed like the kiss was never ending but then the lips left his and trailed down to his neck. Sharp teeth stung as they sank into the flesh that connected his shoulder to his neck. Then those lips found his and the kiss started all over again with both men grinding against each other.

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Ryan groaned as the hard cock rubbed against his leg. Whoever it was, he was fucking hung. God, but he was..yeah. It was all Ryan could do not to beg his unseen make-out partner to fuck him within an inch of his life.

Ryan moaned into that incredible mouth. That mouth was making him forget everything except the here and now. The kiss was hot, demanding and steady. Heat flushed Ryan's body when his cock gave a jerk. God, to be naked against that thigh. Hands were scouring his body, leaving heat in their wake as they darted all over him. The lips left again and Ryan took a second to find out who the guy was that he was making out with.

He opened passion-heavy eyes and noticed one thing. The lips belonged to none other than Drill Sergeant Grabowski. He fucking froze. The object of his hate and lust was currently nibbling down the side of his neck and Ryan knew this was all sorts of wrong but damned if he would stop it.

He didn't need to.

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Drill Sergeant Grabowski jerked away, and growled. “Get your battle buddies and get back to the barracks.” With that said he left Ryan standing there, shaking and completely confused. He stumbled away from the wall and shook his head to clear it from the lust-clouds that were threatening him.

He found the guys, told them Grabowski was in the john, and they all ran back to the barracks. Luckily King hadn't been out to check on them.

***

Later that day Grabowski called a formation.

“From now on “The Davis Club” is completely off limits. If I find you there you will receive an Article Fifteen. Is that clear?” he barked.

When the guys gave him an affirmation he dismissed them to midday chow.

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As Ryan chewed on his lips he couldn't quite look at the brooding Drill Sergeant.

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The very next day they went on a road march. Everyone was trying to be manly about it.

Carrying fifty-pound rucksacks and their shiny new M16A1's, they started out.

Ryan kept thoughts of the kiss as far out of his mind as he could. It was a crying fucking shame that Grabowski could kiss that well. It had been the best kiss of Ryan's life. It devoured him, made him want more. He sighed and got back on track.

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Patrick looked kinda uncomfortable but didn't say anything. He just nodded and kept pace with everyone else.

They marched for about a mile before Ryan realized that it was getting seriously fucking uncomfortable.

The soft cap was heavy under the steel pot on Ryan's head. When they began to wear the Kevlar it had been cool - for all of twenty seconds, before they realized that the damn things weighed a ton and it was really fucking annoying to have it bobbing up and down on their heads as they double timed anywhere. And people seriously didn't want Ryan to go on about the fucking chin strap. The damn thing either wouldn't snap or would unsnap at the slightest provocation.

“Dude, this metal is like digging in my back,” Brendon whimpered. He fidgeted with the gear that was sticking straight into his back because of being on the bottom.

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“Brendon, we have two more miles. If you think I'm going to listen to you pitch a bitch for the next two miles, you're sadly mistaken,” Kenneth groused. He too was uncomfortable.

“How can this fucking
weapon
feel like it weighs a fucking ton?”

Patrick was walking slowly and sweat was pouring down his face. “My work boots were really dirty…I couldn't wear them. These fucking boots are fucking killing my fucking feet,” he whispered.

Ryan gave Patrick a sympathetic look. One did not want to 'break in' a new pair of boots during a road march.

They were all on separate sides of the road about ten feet apart. While the Drill Sergeants were far away, they bitched to each other like this.

They were completely unprepared for the sudden ‘bang bang’ that went off around them.

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Grabowski appeared from nowhere. “Gracin, Smith, Murray, Roslin, you're all dead.

Lay down on the road.”

Ryan blinked and lowered himself onto the road. The rest did the same. He could hear Patrick's groan from where he lay.

“GATHER THEM IN!” the taller man ordered.

All of the soldiers began to file in slowly.

“Alright, so you see these dead guys? They are that way because they were too fucking busy talking and not paying attention to their fucking surroundings. That means they just got themselves killed, along with half of the fucking platoon!” Phillip said. “Brodrick, Trainer, Weatherly, Brody, get your asses over here and pick up their weapons and their rucksacks. This is what happens when you’re fucking around on a real patrol. You get dead and then some other 77

fuck has to pick up the fucking slack.” Phillip looked down at the four of them and blew out a disgusted breath.

The other four soldiers came and took the extra equipment. The expressions on their four faces were as stormy as hell. They would pay for this one, no doubt.

“Wait for the truck to pick your asses up, fucking assholes. Next time think about the man beside you because they depend on you as much as you depend on your fucking selves.” He stormed and then ordered them all to continue their march.

The four men looked at each other and sighed.

“Fuck.” Patrick snarled and managed to get himself up.

“Well, the metal thing isn't killing me anymore,” Brendon said, trying to make light of the situation they found themselves in.

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“Weatherly hates my fucking guts anyways. He's going to put a fucking snake in my ruck, I know it,” Kenneth bitched and picked himself up.

Ryan felt like crying. He hated that Grabowski put them all on the spot. He hated the fact they’d let everyone in the platoon down even more.

The military hummer pulled up and William King got out.

“The fuck-ups are at it again, I see. Get in the fucking hummer,” he growled as they all crawled in the back.

***

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By the time they made it to the range, all four were nervous.

Ryan walked over to Jason Trainer and offered a small smile. “Dude, I'm so sorry.”

“No worries. If Grabowski had walked down to where we were, you guys would have been carrying our stuff.” Jason dismissed it just that easily.

Kenneth and Brendon found out that Weatherly and Brody weren't so forgiving.

Brodrick just shrugged, and handed Patrick his stuff.

Once everything had settled down Drill Sergeant Grabowski stood in front of them and explained what they were doing there. He went through the mechanics of firing. Again.

Ryan was starting to think that he, Grabowski, thought they were all stupid, but everything was like that in the Army. They explained everything over and over again.

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“”Brody, Gracin, Smith, Roslin, and Murray, you’re up first,” Connelly shouted.

They left their rucksacks on the ground and walked toward the fox holes quietly. Their LBE were tight against their chests. It was the first time they’d had a ‘live fire.’ Yesterday and most of the morning they had been practicing with a washer balanced on the tip of their weapons and a seriously fucked up Nintendo game. King said it was to help teach them all how to pull the trigger without jerking.