Authors: Crystal Rose
“What have you been up to?” Ryan asked. Could it possibly get any weirder than it was right now?
“Aww, Freckles, small talk? Really?” Phillip chuckled huskily. “I went off the trail about a year after your class. Went to Lewis and ended up in Iraq twice before I got assigned here. I PCS'ed a month ago.”
“Wow. Did you know Mark is around?”
“Yup. I called after I got my orders,” Phillip said.
Ryan felt like choking Patrick. If Phillip had called Mark then Mark would have told Patrick, and it fell to Patrick to fucking tell him these things.
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“You know, I loved the fact that I could always tell what you were feeling. Your face always gave it away. I'm not seeing that much anymore,” Phillip said.
Ryan blinked in surprise and then shrugged. “Times change.”
“Yeah, I guess they do. Sad though.” Phillip grabbed his drink and took a long draw on the straw. He looked at his watch and sighed. “I gotta get back.”
Ryan nodded. “Yeah, me too.” They both rose and cleaned off their table.
“Well, it was good to see you,” Ryan said. Phillip nodded as they walked out the door.
Both men were sliding their black Stetsons over their heads.
“You too, Freckles.” Phillip grinned.
Ryan chewed on his lip. “I'm not that boy anymore,” he whispered.
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Phillip turned suddenly. His smile was nearly blinding. “Nope.” He moved closer.
“You're much better.”
For a second Ryan thought Phillip was going to kiss him right there but then the taller man stepped back.
“Catch ya later, Freckles.” He whistled 'She Wore a Yellow Ribbon' as he walked away.
Ryan shook his head. Five years later Phillip Grabowski still had the ability to make him feel like a sixteen-year-old girl.
***
273
That afternoon at formation Ryan was talking to Alexander Krutz. Alexander was a cool guy who had transferred to his unit when his decommissioned.
“Did you hear they are bringing in some new guy? He's taking over third squad,”
Alexander said.
“Great. Just what we need.” Ryan rolled his eyes. Most of the new guys ended up being assholes. They’d seriously lucked out with SGT. Krutz. He was a ‘been there guy’ who didn't like bragging about his 'war exploits'. “Last time they pulled in a new E6 he was a bigger fuck-up than most of the just out of basic guys are.” He rolled his eyes some more.
“What I heard is he's an E5. He's taking over for Smith. More time in service I guess,”
Alexander said.
“Some of the guys were talking about him. He's like Chuck Norris.” The guy grinned.
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“Great, we don't need a Chuck Norris,” Ryan said with disgust. “Those guys don't know shit about what they are doing.”
“Company! Attention!” called their Platoon Leader.
Alexander and Ryan ceased talking and snapped to attention.
Lieutenant Kripke looked over the platoon and grinned. “Not much to say except PT
starts tomorrow at five am. We have TA-50 layout at two and I would like to introduce a new squad leader until we get another E6. Gentlemen, give a good Comanche welcome to Sgt.
Phillip Grabowski.”
Ryan blinked. What the LT had said was ‘welcome Sgt. Phillip Grabowski.’ What Ryan heard was 'Welcome Drill Sergeant Grabowski, who is here to make your life a living hell.'
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“He came from the eighth but we're lucky to have him. He’s already had three tours of duty in Iraq. Those of you who haven’t been in Iraq would be smart to listen to him.” With that said the man in question marched up to the front. Grabowski saluted the LT and then went to his position at the head of Third squad. He leaned across and breathed in Ryan's ear.
“Will you please make up your mind? I'm either the Anti-Christ or Chuck Norris. I can't be both.”
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When formation was dismissed Ryan felt like running to his truck like a girl and taking off. Out of all the fucking units in the Army and all the fucking platoons, even at Ft. Hood, how in Holy Hell did Grabowski get assigned to Ryan's?
Alexander was talking to him but Ryan was busy trying to dodge a six-foot-four two hundred-and-something-odd-pound man, which was ridiculous. Ryan had served in the US Army for five years. He wasn't green and he didn't harbor a crush on the man. Well, not a big crush on the man, anyway.
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“Freckles.”
Alexander blinked and looked at Ryan.
Ryan sighed. “Sgt. Krutz, this is Sgt. Grabowski. When I knew him it was Drill Sergeant Grabowski,” he said by way of explanation.
Alexander blinked and then blinked again.
“Drill Sergeant?” Alexander asked and then began to laugh. “That explains the
‘deer in the headlight’ look from you.”
“No, Freckles doesn't do ‘deer in the headlight’. I trained him better than that.
That's his 'I'm gonna fuck you up' look.” He smirked when Ryan shook off his silence.
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“Yeah, yeah. Y'all are so fucking funny. I knew I should have gotten out last year,” Ryan said.
“Listen to Mr. Ohio talkin' like a Texan. I like it, Freckles.”
“You're gonna love this then.” Ryan smiled and flipped the former Drill Sergeant off. He didn't know what he expected from Phillip, but laughter wasn't really that high on his list of wanted reactions.
Ryan was convinced that the Army put something in everyone's water that made them act like teenage boys once they got around their Former Drill Sergeants. He never EVER had an issue with anyone else. Not even officers. Not like he had with Phillip.
He changed the subject.
“Alexander, Patrick wanted me to ask if you wanted to come by the bar and meet some of our buddies? Kenneth and Brendon are both coming in.” He glanced at 279
his watch. “Actually I need to get out of here now. I have to pick Brendon up at the airport. Kenny is driving in.”
“Yeah, I might do that,” Alexander said with a little wave.
Phillip just smiled. He followed Ryan to his car. “So we're back to where we started. I'm kinda your superior.”
Ryan didn't stop moving until he got to his truck. He didn't say a word. He unlocked the doors and then turned to face Phillip, a wide smile sliding across his lips.
“Yeah, kinda sorta but not really.”
“But admit it, I can still order you around. That kinda turns you on,” Phillip said, stepping closer.
Ryan just smirked. He knew what Phillip was doing. Two could play at that game. He closed the distance until they were inches apart. “Just remember,
Sergeant
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Grabowski. You may be able to order me around, but we both know who makes
your
privates
stand at
attention
.” He even licked his lips. He did an about-face and got into his truck. He couldn't resist a look backwards. It was so worth it. Phillip stood stock-still, not even blinking. Yes! Score one for Sgt. Freckles!
Ryan turned the key in the ignition and his truck roared to life. He had finally left Phillip speechless. Go him! He was happy all the way to the airport in Killeen, at least until he felt his phone vibrate. He pulled it out and read the simple text message.
-prove it
Motherfucker! He wasn't even questioning how the fucker got his cell phone number. He was, after all, fucking God. Ryan cursed all the way to the gate where Brendon stood.
***
281
Brendon and Ryan entered ‘Fubar Bar and Grill’ a couple of hours later. ‘Fubar’
in Army terms stands for ‘Fucked up beyond all repair.’ It was a phrase Ryan, Patrick and Brendon were very familiar with. Ryan damn near pissed his pants when Patrick told him that was the name Mark was using for his bar.
“Fubar, that's the shit man! I fucking love that name.” Brendon laughed.
Brendon had changed a lot since basic. He lost his baby fat and grew hard muscles in all the right places. His blond hair was slightly longer but not much. He had a tight, white shirt on and tight-assed jeans. He looked good but he also didn't look like the twenty-three-year-old man he was. He looked older. His eyes were sharper. There wasn't an air of innocence around him anymore. He was leaner, harder and in a lot of ways meaner.
It sometimes made Ryan sad to see Brendon like that but he was a grown man now. He had seen war and faced hardships that most men his age never dealt with.
“Fuck me. That's Furry?” Mark Connelly asked. A small grin played on his lips.
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“Oh Shit!” Brendon squeaked. “Drill Sergeant Connelly!”
Ryan laughed, happy to see that he wasn't the only one with Drill Sergeant issues.
“It's just Mark now.” Mark smiled. “Patrick is upstairs grooming. For a man with so little hair he takes forever to get pretty.”
“And for a fat old Drill Sergeant you talk a lot of shit!” came the raspy reply from the stairs.
“Watch it, lover boy. I know where you sleep.” Mark smirked and poured three beers.
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“I ain't worried. You sleep there too. You fuck it up and guess who's sleeping in the wet spot...and it damn sure isn't me,” Patrick replied with a grin. “Fuck, Furry. Did you get bigger?” He gave Brendon a quick back-slapping hug.
“Nah, you just got shorter.” Brendon grinned.
“Yeah, fuck you buddy.” Patrick smirked. He grabbed the mug and slugged it back.
Brendon pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one up.
“New habit?” Patrick asked and then bummed one. “Mark is like a woman. He doesn't mind smoking down here but I can't fucking smoke at home. Dick.”
“Keep it up, Patricia and I'll show you woman,” Mark said, then walked toward the sound stage.
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All three guys burst out laughing.
“Where's Ken?” Brendon asked when everyone settled down.
“He's about a half an hour out.” Patrick said. “He called, seems Texas State Troopers don't like smart-assed Ohioans.”
Ryan grinned. “Sounds like Ken.”
“How fast this time?”
“Hell, Brendon, speed limit is seventy and he was pushing ninety-five. He talked the guy out of taking him in. How I'll never know.” Patrick smiled.
“He's led a charmed life,” Ryan said as he finished off his beer.
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“Who's led a charmed life, you beautiful fag, you!” Kenneth strolled into the bar a full twenty minutes earlier than Patrick said he would.
“Kenneth, any other guy I would knock his teeth down his fucking throat….”
Ryan's reply died in his throat. “You're fucking bald!”
“I know; cool ain't it?” Kenneth beamed at Ryan. He slid his hand over his shiny skull. “Goddamn, look at you three. Brendon, you're a fucking God, Ryan still as beautiful as ever. And Fucking Patrick-- God, you're shorter!”
Patrick flipped Kenneth off. “Dude, we're still in and you're the one who went all Kojak.”
“Yeah but I'm in a phase, don’tcha know?” He leaned back against the bar. To Ryan he looked a little rough. Kenneth had always been slim but now he was almost gaunt. He knew that look in Kenneth's eyes too. He would talk to the other guy tomorrow. Not tonight though. Tonight they were going to have a good reunion.
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“Damn, Rosey. You look like Lex Luthor.” Mark smirked.
“Yeah yeah. Barkeep, load us up!” Kenneth demanded.
Seems Kenneth didn't have that Drill issue either. Damn.
Mark smirked. “Get your ass behind the bar and load your buddies up,” he ordered Patrick.
“Bossy bitch isn't he?” Ryan drawled. He had been around Mark long enough that he didn't get that same 'Oh shit' feeling he got with Phillip.
“Dude, you have no idea,” Patrick said. He jumped over the bar and began doling out beer and shots.
“What are you up to, Kenny?” Brendon asked.
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“As little as possible. Living off Daddy just to piss the bastard off. He wanted me to become a doctor.” Kenneth wrinkled his nose in distaste. “If I was gonna do that shit I would have stayed in patching y'all up.”
Ryan watched Kenneth. There was a twitchiness to his movements that hadn't been there before. All of them could drink a normal man into a coma but Kenneth was tossing the beer back like a pro.
“Did our Ryan tell y'all who got transferred down here?” Patrick drawled.
“Yeah, about that, Patrick. Mind telling me why I JUST found out?” Ryan asked. “Seein' how he called Mark
before
he PCS'ed?”
“Who?” Kenneth asked as he leaned closer.
“Yeah, who?” Brendon wanted to know.
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“Wait, if
he's
calling
Mark
….And
Ryan
is all in a snit…then it can only be Grabowski,” Brendon said before Patrick could answer.
“You're fucking Sherlock Homes, Brendon. Really,” Ryan replied dryly.
“Holy shit!” Kenneth exclaimed when Patrick broke out into a wide grin.
Fucking Brendon wasn't as stupid as he pretended. “Yeah, and the hero here didn't fucking tell me,” Ryan grumbled.
“Someone still has a cruuuuusssshhhh.” Kenneth sing-songed.
“I do not either.” Ryan denied it.
“Oh hell. He sounds like a girl. Do ya want me to send him a little note or talk to him for you? Dear Drill Sergeant Grabowski, Ryan wanted me to ask you if you liked 289
him. Check ‘Yes’ or ‘No’.” Kenneth snorted at his own joke. Brendon and Patrick both were laughing like the bastards they were.
“Fuck you all. I'm taking my beer and going home.” Ryan flipped them all off.
“That's my beer, buddy.” Patrick smirked.
“Asshole.”
“Bitch.”
“Fucker.”
“Cocksucker.”
“Alright, you win.” Ryan held up his hands in surrender.
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“Why is it when y'all get together your ages regress to twelve?” Mark asked from behind them.
“Aww, Babe. I thought you loved my twelve-year-old ass.” Patrick made a kissy face at Mark and had them all laughing again.
“That statement is beyond wrong and I'm not even going to explain to you why,” Mark said. “Phillip is coming later tonight. Sandy picked up Katie early,” he remarked casually. He left without waiting for responses.
Brendon and Kenneth turned and grinned at Ryan.
“Don't fucking say it,” Ryan growled.