losers: eye of the beholder [jensen/cougar]
Written for Yuletide Madness 2011 for casinoquality.
eye of the beholder
If there's something that Jensen would really like answered -- and for once he's fucking serious -- it would be why the fuck the bad guys always thinks he's the weakest link?
Is it the glasses? The hair? The goatee? If it's the fucking goatee he's going to kick them from here to eternity because he fucking makes that look good. Are they all so fucking blind that they miss the rest of the 6' foot package? If so, shame on them, because he's a wonder of nature if Jensen says so himself.
But seriously?
"What part of Special Forces-trained, CIA black ops, l33t skills, brain bigger than your momma's ass, I've got body armor and a big fucking gun, do you guys keep missing?" Jensen complains, kicking one of the bodies in passing as he ducks into the comm centre.
"J," Pooch's voice crackles in his ear. "Your internal monologue is showing again."
"Fuck you, Sarge." Jensen gets in before he drops comms to concentrate on killing the guys that are standing between him and his teammate. Fucking Pooch, fucking up his ankle. Fucking Clay for getting shot. And abso-fucking-lutely fucking Roque for falling down a hill and headbutting a fucking tree. Sure he can do it, sure he's good at it, but this means that Pooch is touching his equipment. Jensen'd rather Pooch was sniffing his underwear.
Okay, maybe not, but there's the principle of the thing.
Once he's done -- though he knows he's going to be fucking bruised from the shot that clipped him on the right side of the vest -- Jensen shifts his rifle to one hand and flicks his butterfly knife open so that he can cut Cougar free.
Leaving him with the knife while Cougar peels off the tape, Jensen keeps an eye on the door and comments over his shoulder, "So, how'd you like my moves? Pretty sweet, right? I left your hat with Pooch. You can trust him with the hat. Clay, not so much. He's a tad erratic. And forget about Roque. Actually, as far as I know he's still out cold."
When Jensen feels Cougar's hand on his arm, he passes back his sidearm and receives another pat in acknowledgement as Cougar takes the .44. "Never fear, my little kitty, we'll get you out of here in a jiffy."
Jensen feels Cougar's warmth against his back and then the muzzle of the gun against his dick -- which makes him yelp in surprise. "Big kitty. Huge even. C'mon, Cougar, that shit isn't funny. I'm going to get a complex. Or ideas. Oh, there's one."
Cougar shifts away with a quiet, "Let's go."
Jensen huffs a breath and takes the lead. "You're no fun. No fun Cougar is what you are. If I didn't like you so much, I'd leave you here and keep your hat for myself."
Jensen can feel the weight of Cougar's gaze. "Fine, no I wouldn't, because I went to all this trouble to save your ass. With my skillz. And my awesomeness. And because I'm the man."
"Corporal, you're the idiot if you can't keep track of open comms." Clay sounds crankier than a bullet wound would explain, but whatever.
"Hi, Colonel." Jensen replies. "I found this killer kitten while I was shooting all the bad guys, can I keep him? Please."
"To quote Roque -- and I want to kill you for that -- Jensen, shut up. Extraction point in ten. Get it done, soldier."
"On it, Colonel." Jensen spares a quick look over his shoulder at Cougar. "You ready for a nice moonlit stroll? It can never be said I don't show a girl a good time, right?"
The twitch of Cougar's lips is enough to make Jensen smile and, with a wink, he brings his rifle up and heads back out of the building, Cougar once again covering his six.
eye of the beholder
If there's something that Jensen would really like answered -- and for once he's fucking serious -- it would be why the fuck the bad guys always thinks he's the weakest link?
Is it the glasses? The hair? The goatee? If it's the fucking goatee he's going to kick them from here to eternity because he fucking makes that look good. Are they all so fucking blind that they miss the rest of the 6' foot package? If so, shame on them, because he's a wonder of nature if Jensen says so himself.
But seriously?
"What part of Special Forces-trained, CIA black ops, l33t skills, brain bigger than your momma's ass, I've got body armor and a big fucking gun, do you guys keep missing?" Jensen complains, kicking one of the bodies in passing as he ducks into the comm centre.
"J," Pooch's voice crackles in his ear. "Your internal monologue is showing again."
"Fuck you, Sarge." Jensen gets in before he drops comms to concentrate on killing the guys that are standing between him and his teammate. Fucking Pooch, fucking up his ankle. Fucking Clay for getting shot. And abso-fucking-lutely fucking Roque for falling down a hill and headbutting a fucking tree. Sure he can do it, sure he's good at it, but this means that Pooch is touching his equipment. Jensen'd rather Pooch was sniffing his underwear.
Okay, maybe not, but there's the principle of the thing.
Once he's done -- though he knows he's going to be fucking bruised from the shot that clipped him on the right side of the vest -- Jensen shifts his rifle to one hand and flicks his butterfly knife open so that he can cut Cougar free.
Leaving him with the knife while Cougar peels off the tape, Jensen keeps an eye on the door and comments over his shoulder, "So, how'd you like my moves? Pretty sweet, right? I left your hat with Pooch. You can trust him with the hat. Clay, not so much. He's a tad erratic. And forget about Roque. Actually, as far as I know he's still out cold."
When Jensen feels Cougar's hand on his arm, he passes back his sidearm and receives another pat in acknowledgement as Cougar takes the .44. "Never fear, my little kitty, we'll get you out of here in a jiffy."
Jensen feels Cougar's warmth against his back and then the muzzle of the gun against his dick -- which makes him yelp in surprise. "Big kitty. Huge even. C'mon, Cougar, that shit isn't funny. I'm going to get a complex. Or ideas. Oh, there's one."
Cougar shifts away with a quiet, "Let's go."
Jensen huffs a breath and takes the lead. "You're no fun. No fun Cougar is what you are. If I didn't like you so much, I'd leave you here and keep your hat for myself."
Jensen can feel the weight of Cougar's gaze. "Fine, no I wouldn't, because I went to all this trouble to save your ass. With my skillz. And my awesomeness. And because I'm the man."
"Corporal, you're the idiot if you can't keep track of open comms." Clay sounds crankier than a bullet wound would explain, but whatever.
"Hi, Colonel." Jensen replies. "I found this killer kitten while I was shooting all the bad guys, can I keep him? Please."
"To quote Roque -- and I want to kill you for that -- Jensen, shut up. Extraction point in ten. Get it done, soldier."
"On it, Colonel." Jensen spares a quick look over his shoulder at Cougar. "You ready for a nice moonlit stroll? It can never be said I don't show a girl a good time, right?"
The twitch of Cougar's lips is enough to make Jensen smile and, with a wink, he brings his rifle up and heads back out of the building, Cougar once again covering his six.