BHD Fic: "No Safe Bet" 1/1 (Jeff Sanderson/Mike Steele)

[broadwriting]

Title: "No Safe Bet" 1/1
Author: Brenda
Fandom: Black Hawk Down FPS
Pairing: Jeff Sanderson/Mike Steele
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Peace is where you find it.
Disclaimer: Never happened. All rights belong to Mark Bowden, Scott Free Productions and Colombia Pictures, not me.
Notes: Written for mlyn for the BHD Christmas Fic Exchange, who requested Sanderson/Steele. Thanks to shanalle for the most excellent beta.


"Army green was no safe bet
The bullets scream to me from somewhere"
-- Alice In Chains


It was, perhaps, the most pathetic way to spend Christmas Eve, Steele thought, as he lifted his beer bottle. But at least he wasn't alone. The bar was filled to the brim with other soldiers – men like him, either with no family close by or who hadn't been given block leave by their commanders. Steele almost never left post at Christmas – what would be the point? Parents were long since dead, sister was living in Germany with her husband and kids, younger brother was in the service just like him – they all saw each other as time permitted. But the Army was a harsh and greedy mistress and, more often than not, Steele found himself alone on holidays.

He was used to it. Being alone was what being in command was all about. But it didn't mean he had to like it.

"Well, I'll be damned if it isn't Captain Steele," said a richly amused voice beside him, and Steele looked up, surprised, into Sergeant Jeff Sanderson's flashing blue eyes. "Ain't found a way to kill you yet, I take it?"

"Not yet," Steele replied, grinning from ear to ear as he slid from his stool to give Sanderson a hard, firm handshake that turned into a hard, firm hug when Sanderson stepped forward, pressing against him for a brief moment. They drew apart, both still smiling and took the measure of the other. Jeff fucking Sanderson, of all people...

"Still bald," Sanderson remarked.

"Still undisciplined," Steele replied, nodding pointedly at Sanderson's decidedly unmilitary haircut. "How you been, cowboy?"

"Can't complain, can't complain." Sanderson gestured at the stool next to Steele's. "Buy ya a beer?"

"Throw in a shot of Cuervo and you've got yourself a deal." It was dead crazy, man, given how badly they'd rubbed against each other last year in Somalia (and had it really only been a year? felt like a lifetime, felt like no time), but Steele had to admit he was glad to see a familiar face. Someone who'd been there. Someone who knew.

"Merry Christmas," Sanderson said, and passed a brimming shot glass to Steele. He raised his own in salute, waited for Steele to do the same. "To surviving another year."

"To surviving," Steele echoed and watched the flex of Sanderson's throat as he tossed back his shot in one smooth swallow.

"What brings you to Ranger territory, anyway?" Steele asked when Sanderson handed him a fresh bottle of Bud. "You're a long way from Bragg."

"Family in Phenix City, here for the holiday," Sanderson replied. "Thought I'd look for a few friendly faces while I was in the neighborhood."

"Seen anyone else?"

"You're it."

"Lucky me."

"Damn right," Sanderson laughed, and clinked their bottles together. "I don't buy just anyone Cuervo." Steele watched as Sanderson took a long sip of his beer and studied Steele from behind those cool blue eyes. Steele couldn't quite decipher the look, but he figured both of them were experts in secrets.

"There's a booth back yonder if you feel like pulling up some wood," Steele finally said, when the silence got to be too much, turned from comfortable to crouching. Steele had no idea what they were both waiting for, but it never hurt to have a strategy. "Be more comfortable, at any rate."

"Sounds good." Sanderson slid to his feet with a light grace that belied his rangy build. "Lead the way, Ranger."

"All the way," Steele replied, and laughed because, really, the situation was so absurd. He didn't even like Sanderson – had, in fact, cursed him (albeit silently, because he did have respect for the uniform and the men under him and for his place) from Mogadishu to Bonn to Columbus for his insubordinance and lack of respect for the chain of command. Just like a Delta, to think they were better than the rest of the boys in the field. But here he was, cozied against that same cursed Delta, in a booth in a bad dive bar on the loneliest holiday of the year, drinking shots and talking about everything and nothing, and it felt good. Like maybe they could have been friendly under different circumstances.

The Mog had done more than steal young men's lives. But battle was good at stealing dreams, at twisting and reshaping until all that was left was the smell of gunpowder and an ache that never went away, no matter what you did or where you were.

"So...really," Sanderson asked, during a lull in the conversation, and glanced at Steele from beneath impossibly long lashes. "How you been?"

"What, since the Mog?" Steele picked up his new beer – their sixth, not enough to be drunk, but enough so that the edges of the room were nicely fuzzed – and gave the matter some thought. He knew what Sanderson was really asking. Knew just from the way that Sanderson was looking at him, looking through him, like he could see into him. It should have been uncomfortable. But it wasn't.

"Yeah."

"Don't try to think too much about it, really."

Sanderson leaned in, close and intimate, hair falling into his eyes. Steele had an absurd urge to brush it back, just to feel the strands under his fingers, to feel contact with something that wasn't metal, something warm and alive. "You really think that lie'll work with me?"

Steele smiled, and shook his head. "How about you?"

"Took some leave after we buried Randy and Gary," Sanderson replied, and it sounded like each word was being torn from him with razor-sharp wires. Steele felt the familiar ache for the both of them. "Took awhile before the uniform made sense again."

"Yeah," Steele replied, slow and soft. "Yeah." And because Sanderson had opened up, Steele knew it was only fair that he return the favor. "I've lost men before, but...I dunno. Ruiz...it took awhile."

"I hear ya." Sanderson clinked their bottles together again, flickered a quick glance his way, impossibly blue and direct. And, in the close, breathless silence between them, Steele heard the question, assessed the risks and dismissed them just as easily. The only answer he was interested in was the one he saw reflected in the heat of Sanderson's eyes.

"Got beer back at mine, if you're interested," he said, giving his own answer.

Sanderson's eyes crinkled in amusement, open and warm for the first time. "I might be."

***

They barely made it in the door.

They crashed into the wall, violence and need crackling in each heated kiss, in the firm press of Sanderson's body against his, promising more. Steele wormed his hand in the miniscule space between them, unzipping Sanderson's jeans, hand firm on an eager cock, pressing tight, fisting hard and slick. His teeth closed over Sanderson's earlobe, warm, real, alive. "C'mon, cowboy, let's see how you ride."

"Take more'n this to buck me." Sanderson was clawing at Steele's shirt, his shoulders, head thumping against the door, nose bumping Steele's as they clumsily came together for an uncoordinated kiss that tasted of malt and lime. "C'mon, do it."

"Fuck..." Harder, faster, something he could control, something he could give. Gratitude and hatred and brotherhood all warred together, made coherent speech impossible, and he was reduced to the language of the field as his hand moved, lightning-quick, feeding off of Sanderson's moans like a benediction. This was the closest to God any of them would ever get.

"That's it, that's it...Christ, Mike..." All twisted and fucked up, but it was real, this was real, just them, just Sanderson's voice, faltering encouragement, clawing need, Sanderson's cock, so warm and vibrant, this was all Steele would have, but he didn't need more. Their mouths met again, eager, wet, and Steele savored Sanderson's broken moans, his wordless plea as he stiffened, then shuddered in the protection of Steele's arms.

When Sanderson opened his eyes and gave Steele a lazy smile, another question had already been asked and answered. "Yes," Sanderson said aloud, even though they both already knew.

"Yes," Steele repeated, breathed, and lowered his lips to Sanderson's again. Tonight, for the first time since the Mog, since duty and death had robbed them of more than fellow soldiers, neither of them would be alone.


***

Comments

[mlyn.livejournal.com]

Squee! Happy New Year to me!

I love this. I love that Mike and Jeff have had enough distance to like each other, to not be broken over the battle but still feel something, to find some connection with each other. They even have wordless communication, which is so one of my favorite things! And you broke me with the Gary and Randy reference, and put me back to together with the sense-image of malt and lime. Delicious.

Thank you!

[azewewish.livejournal.com]

*beams* Glad you like it, hon!!! :)

I'm so happy it was worth the wait -- those two are about the most reticent men ever, so prying enough out of them to make the fic work took some doing. *g*

[brightest-blue.livejournal.com]

"Fuck..." Harder, faster, something he could control, something he could give. Gratitude and hatred and brotherhood all warred together, made coherent speech impossible, and he was reduced to the language of the field as his hand moved, lightning-quick, feeding off of Sanderson's moans like a benediction. This was the closest to God any of them would ever get.

Lovely story, and the above paragraph was completely inspired.

I was a bit afraid of being squicked because I know the real Capt. (now Col.) Steele. Yeesh. He was my brother's CO in Bosnia. He had a handshake like steel and I was scared to death of him. However, my brother heard a rumor that Col. Steele liked to play classical piano, so one day he screwed up his courage and asked him. Steele looked at him hard for a good long time, looked around, then whispered, "I fuckin' love Mozart. But if you ever, ever tell anyone, you will die a long and painful death." Hee.

Here's hoping the man always has access to a piano!

[azewewish.livejournal.com]

Thank you!! It was a bitch to write, man. Those two didn't want to tell me anything at all.


Was he really? *laughs* That's fantastic. (I'll have to steal the piano reference sometime.) If it helps, I've slashed people I know personally (and carnally). ;)

[http://users.livejournal.com/_mens_rea_/]

I feel like Christmas has come late -so many wonderful fics from you over thebreak...

Funny how odd things stand out, but the "still bald?", "Still undisciplined?" lines had me grinning like a loon.

Can't really explain myself very well but i liked both the contrast and complimentary nature of the first and second halfs of this. How do you do melancholy and hot all in one neat package ? Really lovely.

[azewewish.livejournal.com]

Last time I ever sign up for this many fic challenges during Christmas. *grins*

Those were my two favorite lines, too. :) Glad you liked it, and that you got the mix in tone (and that it worked *sigh of relief*).

[prairiedaun.livejournal.com]

Brenda! Dude! I love how you managed to not only write these characters in character, but make it plausible for them to not only talk to one another in a bar, but move to the eventual angry!fucking. Good job.

And again with the descriptions, of time (and had it really only been a year? felt like a lifetime, felt like no time), and physical need They crashed into the wall, violence and need crackling in each heated kiss,

Again, good job.

[azewewish.livejournal.com]

Corie, those two *points* are a BITCH to write, man. They don't talk about anything at all, gah. I don't know how you ladies do it, but my hat's off to you. *g*

It means a lot that it works to you, since you have a lot more experience with writing them than I do. *mwah* Thank you!!!!!

[moimoietmoi.livejournal.com]

Loved this. The loneliness, the silent understanding, it was perfect.
I still haven't seen this movie, but I'm putting it at the top of my DVD list right now. *g*

[azewewish.livejournal.com]

Oh, you must see it. *draws hearts around it* It's brutal and funny and heart-breaking and brilliant and I love it. But, um, that's not exactly a surprise. *g*

Glad you liked the fic!!!!

[french-hobbit.livejournal.com]

Just the perfect hot angst to make me ache for them. *loves*

[azewewish.livejournal.com]

Thank you, sweetie!!! It was a whore to write, but completely worth it. I need to get back to writing them...