It was his charm that allowed him to have his dick still. Well, that and the fact there was always shit going on to distract Tex. Church shit. Drama. Battles. Freelancers. All the normals that allowed his jokes and poor come-ons to get lost in the myriad of other, far more important bullshit.
But he liked to think it was because she secretly wanted him. And his charm.
"That really isn't true. Motherfuckers are jealous of all the chicks I get." Wow, Wash, he wasn't expecting the humor (God, he hoped it was a joke and not real) coming out of his mouth. A little pout screwed into his mouth at the thought that it could be true, and he was already narrowing down the people who would commit such a blatant crime. Grif? That might be too much work for him. Simmons? Defacing property was a blah blah offense and blah. Sarge didn't care, Caboose didn't know what "lay" meant in that context. Well, shit.
"And it doesn't burn anymore since the pills." He chased the words with a swig of whiskey, and the weightless disconnect was starting to set in. Good.
Especially good with the question hanging between them, and the answer offered. Yeah, tonight they could forget about the army, forget about who they lost, forget about the news they needed to deliver. Tonight, they could kill some liquor and just exist in this tiny, albeit messy room that had clothes on the floor and a picture of Junior taped to the wall by the bed. They could forget the helmet in the corner, staring at that.
He raised his bottle up for a toast, fathomless brown eyes looking over at Wash. "To saying 'fuck it, let's deal with it tomorrow'."
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branchandroot
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Date: 2016-06-08 03:24 am (UTC)But he liked to think it was because she secretly wanted him. And his charm.
"That really isn't true. Motherfuckers are jealous of all the chicks I get." Wow, Wash, he wasn't expecting the humor (God, he hoped it was a joke and not real) coming out of his mouth. A little pout screwed into his mouth at the thought that it could be true, and he was already narrowing down the people who would commit such a blatant crime. Grif? That might be too much work for him. Simmons? Defacing property was a blah blah offense and blah. Sarge didn't care, Caboose didn't know what "lay" meant in that context. Well, shit.
"And it doesn't burn anymore since the pills." He chased the words with a swig of whiskey, and the weightless disconnect was starting to set in. Good.
Especially good with the question hanging between them, and the answer offered. Yeah, tonight they could forget about the army, forget about who they lost, forget about the news they needed to deliver. Tonight, they could kill some liquor and just exist in this tiny, albeit messy room that had clothes on the floor and a picture of Junior taped to the wall by the bed. They could forget the helmet in the corner, staring at that.
He raised his bottle up for a toast, fathomless brown eyes looking over at Wash. "To saying 'fuck it, let's deal with it tomorrow'."