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Fandom: The Losers
Word Count: 771
Pairings: Cougar/Jensen (future implied)
Summary: Silence is safer, and even if his teams can't handle it, Cougar's not giving it up. Not until he finds a team that can handle it - and then he meets a kid who can say as much in his silences as Cougar.
His silence has always unsettled others. No matter who, or how experienced, or whatever reason given, the fact that he no longer gave voice to his thoughts unless absolutely necessary made him different, other. A problem. His COs didn't like his silence, his peers hated his stares, and in teh end he resigned himself to being passed from team to team like a bad penny - a bad penny the military wouldn't let go, of course, since snipers of his caliber were few and far between. Still, it grew lonely in his own mind, and sure, some people eventually grew used to him and his silence, but no one ever really understood them, either. He could break his self-imposed silence, he knew - and apparently, tequila did that for him often, even if he babbled in Spanish - but he wished he didn't have to in order to get his point across. Talking was still something dangerous, something to be avoided.
Franklin Clay got that.
Franklin Clay - Just call me Clay, son, no need to stick on formalities when we're not around the brass - was Cougar's new CO. He got on the team for a routine mission that went balls up before they even had time to line up their targets. He dragged his XO, Roque, twenty-five miles to the rendezvous point with a broken ankle, more bullet holes in himself than he would like, and carrying an unconscious and bullet- and fever-ridden dead weight.
When he woke up in the hospital, Clay had been sitting by his bed. "You're sticking with us, kid," Clay had said, and Cougar had come to realize that Clay was a man of his word.
It was with Clay's team that Cougar learned how to use body language and grunts to effectively communicate with his new teammates. Before, other teams forced words from him he was unwilling to give, but this team seemed willing and eager to learn the different meanings of Cougar's expressions, sighs, and huffs. They treated him as one of them, and for the first time from Afghanistan, he found himself speaking with them, willingly - brief, short sentences, sometimes just a single word - and he found that they didn't care whether he used words or not. They became a family, of sorts. Brothers.
Then Clay announced gruffly that he'd managed to pull a bunch of very big favors to get them a good tech, and walked in with a tall man with broad shoulders, short blond hair, glasses, and a too-cheery smile.
The new guy... talked.
Non-stop.
Cougar was twitchy, because the kid would just start babbling away (okay, not kid, Cougar was a year younger than him, but he seemed young) and Roque would begin to fondle the handles of his knives, Pooch would roll his eyes, and Cougar...
Cougar didn't know how to deal.
He woke up one night - he and the new guy shared a room in their team's assigned housing - to see the new guy sitting cross-legged on his bunk in the dark. When he sat up, the kid jerked, and a gun that had apparently been underneath Jensen's pillow was trained on Cougar's head.
Cougar, who knew a lot about bad dreams and jumpy nights, didn't do anything - sat quiet and still until the kid slowly lowered and cleared his weapon. The kid didn't say a word - which was new. Just kept his gaze averted, clenched his fists as if that would hide the trembling Cougar had seen before.
Cougar felt his chest loosen a little, and he stood up and moved over to the kid's bed. Before the kid could find his voice, Cougar sat down and leaned against the kid's shoulder, feeling how tightly wound the other man was. After a few minutes, the kid slowly began to relax.
Nightmares weren't the exclusive property of any one of them, Cougar remembered, and he found that he could read more from the kid's silence than he ever had gotten from the kid's words.
That comforted him, and he felt himself lulled back into a soft drowse, against the other man's side.
In the morning, the kid opened his mouth as if to say something, but Cougar stood up and stretched, watched the kid's eyes travel over his body, and then Cougar patted his shoulder. After a few minutes, the kid nodded slowly, and Cougar went down for food.
Silence may be Cougar's defense, but he was beginning to realize inane chatter was this kid's defense, and they both knew how to communicate when it came down to it.
Word Count: 771
Pairings: Cougar/Jensen (future implied)
Summary: Silence is safer, and even if his teams can't handle it, Cougar's not giving it up. Not until he finds a team that can handle it - and then he meets a kid who can say as much in his silences as Cougar.
His silence has always unsettled others. No matter who, or how experienced, or whatever reason given, the fact that he no longer gave voice to his thoughts unless absolutely necessary made him different, other. A problem. His COs didn't like his silence, his peers hated his stares, and in teh end he resigned himself to being passed from team to team like a bad penny - a bad penny the military wouldn't let go, of course, since snipers of his caliber were few and far between. Still, it grew lonely in his own mind, and sure, some people eventually grew used to him and his silence, but no one ever really understood them, either. He could break his self-imposed silence, he knew - and apparently, tequila did that for him often, even if he babbled in Spanish - but he wished he didn't have to in order to get his point across. Talking was still something dangerous, something to be avoided.
Franklin Clay got that.
Franklin Clay - Just call me Clay, son, no need to stick on formalities when we're not around the brass - was Cougar's new CO. He got on the team for a routine mission that went balls up before they even had time to line up their targets. He dragged his XO, Roque, twenty-five miles to the rendezvous point with a broken ankle, more bullet holes in himself than he would like, and carrying an unconscious and bullet- and fever-ridden dead weight.
When he woke up in the hospital, Clay had been sitting by his bed. "You're sticking with us, kid," Clay had said, and Cougar had come to realize that Clay was a man of his word.
It was with Clay's team that Cougar learned how to use body language and grunts to effectively communicate with his new teammates. Before, other teams forced words from him he was unwilling to give, but this team seemed willing and eager to learn the different meanings of Cougar's expressions, sighs, and huffs. They treated him as one of them, and for the first time from Afghanistan, he found himself speaking with them, willingly - brief, short sentences, sometimes just a single word - and he found that they didn't care whether he used words or not. They became a family, of sorts. Brothers.
Then Clay announced gruffly that he'd managed to pull a bunch of very big favors to get them a good tech, and walked in with a tall man with broad shoulders, short blond hair, glasses, and a too-cheery smile.
The new guy... talked.
Non-stop.
Cougar was twitchy, because the kid would just start babbling away (okay, not kid, Cougar was a year younger than him, but he seemed young) and Roque would begin to fondle the handles of his knives, Pooch would roll his eyes, and Cougar...
Cougar didn't know how to deal.
He woke up one night - he and the new guy shared a room in their team's assigned housing - to see the new guy sitting cross-legged on his bunk in the dark. When he sat up, the kid jerked, and a gun that had apparently been underneath Jensen's pillow was trained on Cougar's head.
Cougar, who knew a lot about bad dreams and jumpy nights, didn't do anything - sat quiet and still until the kid slowly lowered and cleared his weapon. The kid didn't say a word - which was new. Just kept his gaze averted, clenched his fists as if that would hide the trembling Cougar had seen before.
Cougar felt his chest loosen a little, and he stood up and moved over to the kid's bed. Before the kid could find his voice, Cougar sat down and leaned against the kid's shoulder, feeling how tightly wound the other man was. After a few minutes, the kid slowly began to relax.
Nightmares weren't the exclusive property of any one of them, Cougar remembered, and he found that he could read more from the kid's silence than he ever had gotten from the kid's words.
That comforted him, and he felt himself lulled back into a soft drowse, against the other man's side.
In the morning, the kid opened his mouth as if to say something, but Cougar stood up and stretched, watched the kid's eyes travel over his body, and then Cougar patted his shoulder. After a few minutes, the kid nodded slowly, and Cougar went down for food.
Silence may be Cougar's defense, but he was beginning to realize inane chatter was this kid's defense, and they both knew how to communicate when it came down to it.
