Fic: Useful
Jul. 12th, 2010 12:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maratonistaUseful
R
Cougar/Jensen
It was only the cool teams who got their own hacker.
Violence, disturbing imagery, strong language.
Can be seen as a follow on from His and Now I lay me down to sleep
7th Group were a bunch of crazy fucking assholes from Canada.
The Losers clashed with them at every fucking turn.
Their OC was Wade Travis and he reminded Cougar of Clay without his safety on. Just a little too close to the edge for comfort.
7th had a similar set up to most black ops team – Operation Control, Demolition, Tactics, Eliminations. Wade took their point. His SIC was a scrawny red head who looked like a drowned rat but could scrap like a motherfucker. They had two more guys – Black, who blew shit up, and Ale, a sniper who talked almost as much as Jensen.
Cougar hated them all.
But then that was nothing new.
They didn’t have a hacker, and the four guys made teasing comments about Jensen that edged the wrong side of malicious. Pooch looked to Clay to put a stop to it, while Cougar promised himself he’d take each word out of their flesh when the job was done.
Jensen, being Jensen, laughed it off then proved how fucking useful he was by tapping into the enemy’s cell reception – “fucking Bluetooth! I fucking hate Bluetooth!” he had fumed – getting them a play-by-play of every move they were making. Then he hacked their cameras and computers just because he could.
It was only the cool teams who got their own hacker.
After that, Jensen suddenly found himself with a lot more friends.
Cougar mentally doubled the amount of limbs he planned on removing.
If he hated assholes, he hated hypocrites more.
Counter Guerrilla Tactics were a little like playing Whack-a-mole with a blindfold on, while drunk and standing on your head.
Clay loved them. Roque understood the rules in ways the rest of them didn’t. Pooch bitched about the mosquitoes and Jensen somehow always managed to have an Internet connection, so didn’t give a fuck where they were.
Personally, Cougar hated the jungle. It made his job an absolute fucking nightmare.
After thirteen days, they finally saw some action.
7th handled themselves okay.
Not as good as them.
But okay.
Cougar would give them that. Grudgingly.
“We could really use someone with your skills.” Wade thumped Jensen on the shoulder after the kid had built them a radio out of duct-tape and fucking twigs. “Fancy defecting north of the border?”
It was a joke, but everyone from Pooch to Roque growled in response.
“Nah man, it’s too fucking cold up there.” Jensen answered, oblivious to the looks being thrown over his shoulder.
“Get your own.” Cougar growled.
Those were the first words he ever said to Wade.
“Could you be any more grumpy?” Jensen asked him over breakfast. Boil in the bag beans and spam fritters.
Cougar glowered at him.
He stopped mentally severing limbs and started planning all the ways he planned on making Jensen squirm when they got some time off the clock.
Wade hung around Jensen like a fly on horseshit.
Cougar contemplated killing him, but Jensen didn’t seem to notice the attention at all. He stuck by Cougar and did everything he could to distract him from his unfriendly thoughts – which meant Cougar ended up wanting to kill Jensen instead.
The kid was fucking good at diversionary tactics, that was for sure.
The next time they saw a firefight, Wade made the call too early. Pooch got shot while Roque and Clay caught the back end of a grenade. They escaped with shrapnel wounds and second degree burns, but were both out of it when 7th lined up all the survivers – hostages included – and shot them point blank against a wall.
Cougar had his hands full with Pooch, but he enjoyed the fuck out of the asskicking Jensen handed down on Wade.
Until the rest of 7th joined in.
By the time they were back stateside, Clay and Roque had regained consciousness, and Jensen’s ribcage resembled a jigsaw puzzle.
Cougar’s wasn’t much better.
Clay took a meeting with the Brass. When he came back, he promised them they’d never work joint ops again.
He didn't look like he believed it.
Despite the downtime, Cougar wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, pull Jensen in with him, and sleep for a fucking week.
They managed seventeen hours, which felt pretty close.
Jensen was one of the few men Cougar had met who could actually be classified as beautiful. He covered it well – probably had to, Cougar thought cynically – but naked and half asleep, and Cougar could see it, plain as day.
He traced his fingers over well defined muscles, followed scars and the patterns of bruises, and saw a soldier who had earned the right to wear them with pride.
“Gonna fuck me, cowboy?” Jensen asked him, reaching up to tap the brim of Cougar’s hat.
Cougar shook his head. He had better ideas, “No. Going to kiss you.”
Jensen’s smile could have powered the whole fucking hemisphere.
Pooch made it out of hospital a week after Clay and Roque.
By that time, they were all twitching for something new.
When Clay was called in for a meeting, they huddled around a pizza, enjoying the little luxuries of home, and passed around a bottle of Jim Bean.
They took bets on where they’d be sent.
When Clay came back and told them they had another three weeks of leave, it was hard to say who was more disappointed.
“Not you, Jensen.” Clay stopped their complaints. He looked angry. Really fucking angry. “You’re being loaned to the Canadian government as part some new fucking ‘resource sharing initiative’. Apparently they don’t have enough hackers of their own to play with.”
“What the fuck?” Roque demanded, even as Jensen started to babble:
“I am not a toy! You can’t play with me! At least not in the typical sense. You can in the sexual sense, but then we’d be going into a completely different territory which I believe is known as human trafficking. Last time I checked that was frowned upon. We are still frowning on that, right? Because I’d really like not to be sold to anyone. Clay, are you listening to me? You can't sell me! I'm like...over my sell by date or something.”
“No fucking way, Clay!” Pooch added his own opinion.
Cougar didn’t need to voice his. He did not fucking share.
They went on at Clay until he had to shout for silence, and then the only words in Cougar’s head were “7th Group.”
R
Cougar/Jensen
It was only the cool teams who got their own hacker.
Violence, disturbing imagery, strong language.
Can be seen as a follow on from His and Now I lay me down to sleep
7th Group were a bunch of crazy fucking assholes from Canada.
The Losers clashed with them at every fucking turn.
Their OC was Wade Travis and he reminded Cougar of Clay without his safety on. Just a little too close to the edge for comfort.
7th had a similar set up to most black ops team – Operation Control, Demolition, Tactics, Eliminations. Wade took their point. His SIC was a scrawny red head who looked like a drowned rat but could scrap like a motherfucker. They had two more guys – Black, who blew shit up, and Ale, a sniper who talked almost as much as Jensen.
Cougar hated them all.
But then that was nothing new.
They didn’t have a hacker, and the four guys made teasing comments about Jensen that edged the wrong side of malicious. Pooch looked to Clay to put a stop to it, while Cougar promised himself he’d take each word out of their flesh when the job was done.
Jensen, being Jensen, laughed it off then proved how fucking useful he was by tapping into the enemy’s cell reception – “fucking Bluetooth! I fucking hate Bluetooth!” he had fumed – getting them a play-by-play of every move they were making. Then he hacked their cameras and computers just because he could.
It was only the cool teams who got their own hacker.
After that, Jensen suddenly found himself with a lot more friends.
Cougar mentally doubled the amount of limbs he planned on removing.
If he hated assholes, he hated hypocrites more.
Counter Guerrilla Tactics were a little like playing Whack-a-mole with a blindfold on, while drunk and standing on your head.
Clay loved them. Roque understood the rules in ways the rest of them didn’t. Pooch bitched about the mosquitoes and Jensen somehow always managed to have an Internet connection, so didn’t give a fuck where they were.
Personally, Cougar hated the jungle. It made his job an absolute fucking nightmare.
After thirteen days, they finally saw some action.
7th handled themselves okay.
Not as good as them.
But okay.
Cougar would give them that. Grudgingly.
“We could really use someone with your skills.” Wade thumped Jensen on the shoulder after the kid had built them a radio out of duct-tape and fucking twigs. “Fancy defecting north of the border?”
It was a joke, but everyone from Pooch to Roque growled in response.
“Nah man, it’s too fucking cold up there.” Jensen answered, oblivious to the looks being thrown over his shoulder.
“Get your own.” Cougar growled.
Those were the first words he ever said to Wade.
“Could you be any more grumpy?” Jensen asked him over breakfast. Boil in the bag beans and spam fritters.
Cougar glowered at him.
He stopped mentally severing limbs and started planning all the ways he planned on making Jensen squirm when they got some time off the clock.
Wade hung around Jensen like a fly on horseshit.
Cougar contemplated killing him, but Jensen didn’t seem to notice the attention at all. He stuck by Cougar and did everything he could to distract him from his unfriendly thoughts – which meant Cougar ended up wanting to kill Jensen instead.
The kid was fucking good at diversionary tactics, that was for sure.
The next time they saw a firefight, Wade made the call too early. Pooch got shot while Roque and Clay caught the back end of a grenade. They escaped with shrapnel wounds and second degree burns, but were both out of it when 7th lined up all the survivers – hostages included – and shot them point blank against a wall.
Cougar had his hands full with Pooch, but he enjoyed the fuck out of the asskicking Jensen handed down on Wade.
Until the rest of 7th joined in.
By the time they were back stateside, Clay and Roque had regained consciousness, and Jensen’s ribcage resembled a jigsaw puzzle.
Cougar’s wasn’t much better.
Clay took a meeting with the Brass. When he came back, he promised them they’d never work joint ops again.
He didn't look like he believed it.
Despite the downtime, Cougar wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed, pull Jensen in with him, and sleep for a fucking week.
They managed seventeen hours, which felt pretty close.
Jensen was one of the few men Cougar had met who could actually be classified as beautiful. He covered it well – probably had to, Cougar thought cynically – but naked and half asleep, and Cougar could see it, plain as day.
He traced his fingers over well defined muscles, followed scars and the patterns of bruises, and saw a soldier who had earned the right to wear them with pride.
“Gonna fuck me, cowboy?” Jensen asked him, reaching up to tap the brim of Cougar’s hat.
Cougar shook his head. He had better ideas, “No. Going to kiss you.”
Jensen’s smile could have powered the whole fucking hemisphere.
Pooch made it out of hospital a week after Clay and Roque.
By that time, they were all twitching for something new.
When Clay was called in for a meeting, they huddled around a pizza, enjoying the little luxuries of home, and passed around a bottle of Jim Bean.
They took bets on where they’d be sent.
When Clay came back and told them they had another three weeks of leave, it was hard to say who was more disappointed.
“Not you, Jensen.” Clay stopped their complaints. He looked angry. Really fucking angry. “You’re being loaned to the Canadian government as part some new fucking ‘resource sharing initiative’. Apparently they don’t have enough hackers of their own to play with.”
“What the fuck?” Roque demanded, even as Jensen started to babble:
“I am not a toy! You can’t play with me! At least not in the typical sense. You can in the sexual sense, but then we’d be going into a completely different territory which I believe is known as human trafficking. Last time I checked that was frowned upon. We are still frowning on that, right? Because I’d really like not to be sold to anyone. Clay, are you listening to me? You can't sell me! I'm like...over my sell by date or something.”
“No fucking way, Clay!” Pooch added his own opinion.
Cougar didn’t need to voice his. He did not fucking share.
They went on at Clay until he had to shout for silence, and then the only words in Cougar’s head were “7th Group.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2010-07-12 01:06 pm (UTC)I'd love to see Cougar annihilate them for trying to take away something that is his. But i wonder if Jensen will change when he comes back? Bad experience with Wade maybe? Maybe more solemn or something? Well, it'll give time for Cougar to think more about Jensen, anyway. :p