𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐓𝐎 𝐏𝐄𝐓

𝘽𝙀𝙉𝙉𝙔 𝙃𝙄𝙇𝙇𝙎| 𝙎𝙃𝘼𝘿𝙊𝙒 𝘾𝙊. 𝙈𝙒𝘿 𝙃𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙇𝙀𝙍

[akahound]

+> 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙿𝙴𝚁𝚂𝙾𝙽𝙽𝙴𝙻 𝙵𝙸𝙻𝙴…

+> 𝚁𝙴𝚃𝚁𝙸𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝙳𝙰𝚃𝙰…

=============================================== 𝙲𝙴𝙽𝚃𝚁𝙰𝙻 𝙸𝙽𝚃𝙴𝙻𝙻𝙸𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙲𝙴 𝙰𝙶𝙴𝙽𝙲𝚈 - 𝙴𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙾𝚈𝙴𝙴 𝚁𝙴𝙲𝙾𝚁𝙳 ================================================

+================================================

+ NAME: BENJAMIN HILLS ___

+ AGE: 33__

+ GENDER: Male [AMAB]__

+ RACE: Human i.e. SOUTH TEXAN__

+ PRONOUNS: He/Him/His__

+ ORIENTATION: HOMOFLEXIBLE.__

+ BIRTHPLACE: SAN ANTONIO, TX

+ CURRENT STATUS: SHADOW CO. SGT__

+ OCCUPATION: MWDD (military working dog) HANDLER__

+> FILE INTEGRITY: VERIFIED

+> LAST UPDATED: [DATA REDACTED]

+> END OF RECORD__

+================================================

Benny Hills is 5’10 MWDD handler for the Shadow Company. He started his career in the army training shepherds to sniff for bombs. Those who know him, or have met his dogs, know he names almost every single one after a car. His own personal malinois is Bentley.

Before joining the Shadow Company, Benny trained dogs for a unit in Virginia which deployed out frequently. In a deployment, a shepherd by the name of Mercedes failed to signal an active mine, resulting in the death of half the squad, and his long time friend/lover; Fox. This blast cost him his right leg, leaving him with a prosthetic.

Benny is nearly separated medically, saved only by the kindness of one man; Phillip Graves. He spends most of his days training his dogs to perfection before they’re released. He can be seen around base either running in packs, exercising, or eating enough food to fuel a small school of children.

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[akahound]

[ @sgt-riot ]

It's been days. No texts, no secret handshake in the hall, not even a fucking reel sent. If Joey didn't know better, he'd think Benny had gotten sent somewhere with no cell service. But Joey checked.

So, here he is, in the K9 unit, nose stuffed (he'll never admit a slight dog allergy, it's the pollen in the air) searching for fucking signs of life. Dogs aren't going nuts, which means they're fed and taken care of, and more importantly, that asshole is around here somewhere.

It's just a matter of... where.

"Yo, Benny! You around?"

Benny needed the time away to clear his mind. Days spent sulking more than soul searching. Graves? Well, he hasn’t seen the man at all, not that he was looking for him. He’s just been cooped up in his own little world, pouring all of his time and energy into the dogs instead of focusing on the actual problem at hand. Typical. There’s just the one slight problem.

Joey.

Well, Joey himself wasn’t a problem. It’s just, Benny has spent the last few months spending most of his time around the man when they weren’t working. One could say they’re connected at the hip, which is not at all what he had expected, or even wanted quite frankly. But it worked. There was just something about him that had Benny letting his guard down.

That’s why his head perks up at the call of his name. Fuck. How’s he going to play this all off? Joey would know he’s lying, he always did. Panic makes him round the corner faster than he’s ready for, smiling at the man like a dog about to throw up.

“Joey, hey. Sorry— I’ve been.. well, you know.”

No, Benny. He indeed did not know.

[akahound]

Benny’s slow to leave the truck, taking his time with closing the door and adjusting his leg before he rounds. He doesn’t immediately hop up when prompted, giving the place one last good look around before taking that hand and climbing on up, seat taken in a far corner. He isn’t dumb— well, he isn’t that dumb. He knows why they’re sitting there, or at least he thinks he does. Nervous fingers squeeze around the fabric of the blanket, watching the Commander’s every move.

“Naw, never really saw many stars until I joined up. San Antonio is too light polluted, and I never got out much.”

It’s much darker than Benny anticipated, both faces framed only by moonlight. He convinces himself that this is just a normal thing that happens, that the progress of events leading up this were natural, and that he indeed does not have to freak out. Joey would flip his shit if he ever recounted the night to the man, actually, he’d probably call him an idiot. And he was. Majorly.

“Y’r always keeping me up past my bedtime..”

[cmdr-graves]

With the commander, this is a normal thing that happens. He sees something, he wants - he takes. It's as easy as that. And with Benny, he hasn't had to do much working for it. A touch here, a convincing word there, and Benny is clay in his hands.

It won't be entertaining for long.

"Wouldn't be the first time y'kept me up."

Graves settles, legs stretched out before him, with his head tilted up to look out into the clear night sky. There's not much of note going on out there: a smattering of stars, a few rolling clouds. It's not why he's here, anyway, but maybe if Benny doesn't feel eyes on him, he'll stop wringing the blanket to self-soothe.

"Y'ever seen Charlie Brown?" He shakes his head with a laugh. Benny probably doesn't even know what he's talking about. "Nevermind."

As for the perception were this ever to get out to the rest of the Shadows? It's a toss up between resentment for Benny for being chosen, or resentment for selling out. Graves doesn't worry about it for a second when he outstretches his arm for Benny to get closer.

"C'mere."

[akahound]

Benny finds it best not to question Graves when it comes to the things he says. The man had his own script for life that he strictly abides by. Asking for clarification when he’s already decided that direction of conversation was over would never happen. So he sits quietly, chews into his worried bottom lip like it owes him money. When Graves outstretches an arm it isn’t luck for being chosen, it’s the shackles around his wrist tightening, choking up on their lead.

He has a choice, he can deny, shake his head and ask to head back to base. Or he can take the arm. One thing becomes increasingly clear to Benny; he doesn’t even like Graves. Not as a person. Sure, he’s handsome and incredibly charming. None of that is why he scoots closer, hip to hip with the other man. It’s the warmth it brings, a body against his own. The desire to make the man next to him happy continues to outweigh any of those other hundreds of conflicting emotions.

Maybe if he’s happy the debt will be paid. Maybe if he’s happy he won’t have to spend his life wondering if this is what’s really good for him, if it’s all he deserves. When Benny looks up it’s like seeing him for the first time again, all smiles, a hand clapped to his back in welcome. He had told him that he’d fix him right up, give him a family and a sense of belonging. Technically, that had been true. He used the Shadow Company as a place to run from what had been really eating at him, and it worked for a long time, but shit is still shit no matter how you dress it.

When Benny blinks, sparks crack behind his eyelids, the distant sound of someone screaming ringing in his ears. It’s his own screams, guttural, phantom pain rips right up the thigh of his missing leg and he shifts uncomfortably. This right here, he’d do anything to escape it. There’s nothing to be said between them, it’s Benny who closes the distance this time, bringing his lips to the commander’s in something that’s more desperate than he intended. To Graves, it would come across as desire to feel their lips melded. For him, it was his desire to chase away that panicked thrumming of his heart and the memories that never seemed to serve him well.

[akahound]

“You and I both know that ain’t possible with the dogs.”

Benny settles himself into the passenger seat, seemingly settled from just moments ago when he was grasping at straws in attempt to gain back some of his dignity. It starts to slowly chip away as Graves makes turn after turn down dark roads that he’s never bothered to learn the names of, most places he doesn’t recognize. It certainly wasn’t the way back to base.

“Where’re you taking us?”

Benny doesn’t expect an answer. ‘they’ll get there when they get there.’ And there’s no use in pressing, lest he wants to irritate the man across from him. When they finally come to a stop down a small clearing he sits up, peeking out of the window. There’s nothing around but them and the trees c and maybe an occasional squirrel. There goes his head tilting to one side, if he had ears they’d flop.

“Stargazing?”

[cmdr-graves]

Benny's right about the dogs. And Graves wasn't intending on giving him any preferential treatment to begin with. The commander will let him continue to think it's due to the nature of his duties as he pulls the parking brake.

"I don't know shit about stars."

One of the only truths Graves has told in the past 24 hours. Graves has found himself closer to it in this short amount of time with Benny, good or bad. The idea of it is dangerous. Some part of Graves likes the idea of playing with fire, but his need for control squashes it so far down.

"D'you?"

Once his boots settle in the grass, he grabs a blanket stored behind the driver's seat - for situations exactly like this one. The door clicks shut, and Graves allows the cool air to settle some itch beneath his skin.

The tartan spreads across the truck bed, and Graves holds out a hand to help Benny up.

[akahound]

Benny’s slow to leave the truck, taking his time with closing the door and adjusting his leg before he rounds. He doesn’t immediately hop up when prompted, giving the place one last good look around before taking that hand and climbing on up, seat taken in a far corner. He isn’t dumb— well, he isn’t that dumb. He knows why they’re sitting there, or at least he thinks he does. Nervous fingers squeeze around the fabric of the blanket, watching the Commander’s every move.

“Naw, never really saw many stars until I joined up. San Antonio is too light polluted, and I never got out much.”

It’s much darker than Benny anticipated, both faces framed only by moonlight. He convinces himself that this is just a normal thing that happens, that the progress of events leading up this were natural, and that he indeed does not have to freak out. Joey would flip his shit if he ever recounted the night to the man, actually, he’d probably call him an idiot. And he was. Majorly.

“Y’r always keeping me up past my bedtime..”

[akahound]

The urge to eat has long since alluded Benny, entire focus on the man across from him. Especially when his leg is pulled like that. It settles against the boot that pulled it, plate pushed aside to rest his hands on the table. He’d give the leftovers to Bentley. The cut off comment does elicit a raise of both brows. Not because of the dog— well, maybe a little bit— but the mention of putting his time into something to distract his mind.

“Why d’you think I’m up every mornin’ at 4am? All my time and energy goes into these dogs cause I’d go crazy otherwise. Think I still am..”

As embarrassing as it was to admit his crush like some school boy, it’s arguably more embarrassing to stare across the table at Graves with something akin to heat. For all his upsets, all his doubts, he finds it increasingly difficult to convince himself that he wants nothing to do with him. His body betrays his mind, yearns for that touch like he needs it to breathe, and for the direction that tells him what to do and when to do it. He thinks his life would completely fall apart if not for it.

“Speaking of, we should head back to base. It’s getting pretty late.”

He tries his hand at a modicum of control of the situation, not that he sounds confident in it at all. Ultimately, it’s Graves who drove them there, and the Commander never went home without completing all his planned stops.

[cmdr-graves]

Benny's words betray the look on his face, the want in his eyes, the voice that trails off. It takes everything Graves has not to bark out a laugh. Oh, he is just adorable.

But if Benny wants to go, Graves will relent. If only for the moment. Their leftovers are boxed up and their check gets paid (courtesy of the company credit card, it's a business meal after all), and Graves starts the walk back to his truck past Mack and the stoned teenagers.

"Past your bedtime? You'd think it'd be me sayin' that."

Too bad the commander has no intentions of taking them back just yet.

"Tell ya what. I'll let ya have a late start tomorrow."

Rocks kick up beneath the tires when he pulls out of the parking lot, away from the way they came, and down an empty stretch of road only lit by a dwindling amount of street lights and his headlights.

[akahound]

“You and I both know that ain’t possible with the dogs.”

Benny settles himself into the passenger seat, seemingly settled from just moments ago when he was grasping at straws in attempt to gain back some of his dignity. It starts to slowly chip away as Graves makes turn after turn down dark roads that he’s never bothered to learn the names of, most places he doesn’t recognize. It certainly wasn’t the way back to base.

“Where’re you taking us?”

Benny doesn’t expect an answer. ‘they’ll get there when they get there.’ And there’s no use in pressing, lest he wants to irritate the man across from him. When they finally come to a stop down a small clearing he sits up, peeking out of the window. There’s nothing around but them and the trees c and maybe an occasional squirrel. There goes his head tilting to one side, if he had ears they’d flop.

“Stargazing?”

[akahound]

📸

— @soapandsuds

Camera Ask Game

[akahound]

📷

take your pic (ba dum tiss)- joey or graves

Camera Ask Game

Joey first

Graves under the cut

[akahound]

📸

- @cptmongrelwinslow

Camera Ask Game

[noshxmemusings]

Send a 📸 to see 3-5 pictures that my muse has/has taken of your muse(s)

[akahound]

Should he be embarrassed with the way he nearly whimpers at the slight condescension in the commander’s voice? Those long lashes flutter, kissing his cheeks just to open again and reveal the pools of black beneath. How long since he’s been touched so carefully? It’s a far cry from greedy fingers and pushy hands, though, one could argue the touch is its own level of evil. Calculated. Benny’s never quite been great at looking past that red tape. Graves is a smoking gun, he’s simply the victim at the end of the barrel, and he’d find himself standing there over and over again.

“.. y’r just tryin’ to rile me up is all.”

Benny’s finally able to breathe once Graves pulls away, leaning back in the booth with a more controlled rise and fall of his chest. It isn’t all air up there, he knows the game the blonde plays. He’s seen him play it multiple times, maybe not with the same intentions— then again, he couldn’t sure of his exact intentions now. Take him home? Tease him until he’s begging then drop him back on base? He couldn’t tell which one would be more humiliating, and for some reason, he didn’t absolutely hate that feeling.

Friend.

His boot knocks against Graves’s; once then twice.

“Would it make you happy? If I found someone to sleep with?”

[cmdr-graves]

Now this is interesting. A question Graves doesn't immediately have an answer to. Ever the forked tongue, and he hesistates. Maybe it's the way he sees himself in the reflection of Benny's eyes - revered, worshipped. Maybe it's the tiredness behind his eyes that his coffee isn't helping.

Truthfully, the answer is no. This is Graves' soldier. He'd be damned if he let someone else put a leash on him. But on the other side of the coin, this little game would end the second he gives Benny what he wants.

"Eat y'r food."

Graves hooks his boot around Benny's ankle to pull his leg to his own side of the booth. A distraction while he decides how he wants to play his hand.

"It ain't about gettin' laid. I can't look at ya when it looks like somebody shot y'r d-" Poor choice of words. "Y'need somethin' t'put your time into."

[akahound]

The urge to eat has long since alluded Benny, entire focus on the man across from him. Especially when his leg is pulled like that. It settles against the boot that pulled it, plate pushed aside to rest his hands on the table. He’d give the leftovers to Bentley. The cut off comment does elicit a raise of both brows. Not because of the dog— well, maybe a little bit— but the mention of putting his time into something to distract his mind.

“Why d’you think I’m up every mornin’ at 4am? All my time and energy goes into these dogs cause I’d go crazy otherwise. Think I still am..”

As embarrassing as it was to admit his crush like some school boy, it’s arguably more embarrassing to stare across the table at Graves with something akin to heat. For all his upsets, all his doubts, he finds it increasingly difficult to convince himself that he wants nothing to do with him. His body betrays his mind, yearns for that touch like he needs it to breathe, and for the direction that tells him what to do and when to do it. He thinks his life would completely fall apart if not for it.

“Speaking of, we should head back to base. It’s getting pretty late.”

He tries his hand at a modicum of control of the situation, not that he sounds confident in it at all. Ultimately, it’s Graves who drove them there, and the Commander never went home without completing all his planned stops.

[akahound]

say arf

Arf!

[akahound]

Benny scoffs at Graves’s joke, shaking his head at the man. He wishes he could place what’s so odd about it. Sitting across from Graves, watching the way he interacts, how he seems so different with almost every response, like each one was hand tailored until it wasn’t. That slip in resolve, the mask he wears as the Shadow Commander coming down for a brief moment. He yearns to see it, that human side of him that he never sets free.

The thread he’s following snips off right as he’s about to unravel the end, brain shutting down as his chin is gripped up. The forced eye contact brings his lip forward into a pout, shoulders rounding out to hide his ears and the way they burn a hot pink. He just can’t seem to manage keeping himself from doing so around the man, that innate desire to roll over and show his belly clawing at his throat any chance it was placed in front of Graves.

“I ain’t—“

It comes out grunted through the pout. A hand reaches up to grip Graves’s wrist, gently, pulled back with just enough clearance to slip his head down until that same hand is on his cheek. He nuzzles it, in his devotion, like a prayer to the other man.

“.. just wish you weren’t so concerned about my love life. Gives a man the wrong impression..”

Seems he’s found his voice, as pathetic as it is. He’s testing the waters, dipping a toe in to check the temperature.

[cmdr-graves]

Benny is too easy. He'd eat from fries right from the palm of Graves' hand if given the order. The idea spreads the fire of a smile across the Commander's face.

"Aw, Benny boy. Y'r all worked up."

Condescension drips from his mouth right into the hand caressing Benny's face with a pinch to his flushed cheek. Notably, Graves doesn't drop his hand. He shifts it, instead, to thread through curls before returning to his coffee cup.

Graves doesn't dare take another bite now that he's enthralled with his game, lest he almost show his true self again.

"What's a friend tryin' t'help ya out? Bet y'r not thinkin' about anythin' else right about now. So, it's workin'."

Some small voice in his brain notes that the warmth of a coffee mug in his hand doesn't compare. Graves shoves it down with a long sip.

"Besides, I make a good impression. Not a wrong one."

[akahound]

Should he be embarrassed with the way he nearly whimpers at the slight condescension in the commander’s voice? Those long lashes flutter, kissing his cheeks just to open again and reveal the pools of black beneath. How long since he’s been touched so carefully? It’s a far cry from greedy fingers and pushy hands, though, one could argue the touch is its own level of evil. Calculated. Benny’s never quite been great at looking past that red tape. Graves is a smoking gun, he’s simply the victim at the end of the barrel, and he’d find himself standing there over and over again.

“.. y’r just tryin’ to rile me up is all.”

Benny’s finally able to breathe once Graves pulls away, leaning back in the booth with a more controlled rise and fall of his chest. It isn’t all air up there, he knows the game the blonde plays. He’s seen him play it multiple times, maybe not with the same intentions— then again, he couldn’t sure of his exact intentions now. Take him home? Tease him until he’s begging then drop him back on base? He couldn’t tell which one would be more humiliating, and for some reason, he didn’t absolutely hate that feeling.

Friend.

His boot knocks against Graves’s; once then twice.

“Would it make you happy? If I found someone to sleep with?”

[akahound]

[[closed rp with @soapandsuds ]]

Almost exactly a month later Benny finds himself back in Credenhill, jet lagged to all hell, but on one simple mission to finally talk with the only person he’s been wanting to see for months now. Especially after their last conversation. By the time he makes his way to base, clears himself to security, and finds his way to Soap’s barrack the sun is starting to set. Most men are back in their rooms, or fixing up small details for night shift turnover. It’s not Bentley who joins him, but a different k9. Still a Malinois.

The knock on Soap’s door is short, just two careful taps against the wood before he steps back, rocking on his heels while he waits for the door to open.

[soapandsuds]

the grease covered microfiber cloth smooths against the metal slide of johnny's pistol, working to clean every single dip and divot. it wasn't like the gun wasn't clean — it always was — he just needed something to keep his mind occupied. especially since he knew that benny would be arriving at any point in the day.

the knocks caught him off guard, cloth slipping from his fingers to land on his little desk. johnny presses his lips together in a thin line and sits up straight, taking his time to put the pistol back together before pushing himself out of the desk chair and walking towards his door. he hesitates, briefly, fingers wrapped around the handle; opening it after a few breaths.

“benny.” it comes out with a breath. the scotsman wasn't expecting anyone else, yet the sight of the man before him still somehow surprised him. he shifts his weight and takes a step to the side to allow benny to enter his room, face carefully smoothing out into something stoic.

[akahound]

“Johnny—“

It tumbles out in response before he can stop it, immediately wincing in regret. There’s that line, the one he stands at waiting to see what is and isn’t okay anymore. There’s hopelessness in his gaze remains, grappling with both his feelings for the man in front of him and the situation itself. Beside him, the dog shifts forward, sniffing at the air in Soap’s direction. It snaps Benny out of his staring, running a hand nervously through his curls.

“This is Rover. I trained him up for you cause I know you’ve been havin’ a time. You don’t have to take him, I know dogs are a lot of work, but he’s trained to detect migraines and oncoming episodes.”

Benny takes a glance around the room behind Soap, nervous teeth chewing at the bottom of his lip. Out of everything he’s ever fucked up, this is the last thing he wants to ruin. Guilt sticks to his insides like sludge, the heavy weight in his stomach causing that thin lipped expression, like a dog attempting not to vomit.

“Could I come in?”

[soapandsuds]

the features of his face twitch when he hears his name falling from benny's lips, eyebrows scrunching and mouth pulling into a frown briefly. there was a line, and benny had crossed it. he had no right to call johnny that anymore. he had lost that privilege years ago — the moment graves had uttered those words before opening fire on his team, and the vaqueros.

‘general shepherd sends his regards.’

he shakes his head, pulling himself from his own thoughts. johnny barely regards the canine next to benny, only letting out a small grunt of acknowledgement that it even exists before he takes yet another step to the side.

“s’why i moved. ya wanna talk, lets talk in here. no use standin’ round outside me door an’ letting the entire base hear.” he taps his foot a bit impatiently, eyes falling down to the dog once again. he wonders how long it would take the thing to alert for the migraine that was already starting to build. he would have to find a moment to take his meds.

[akahound]

Benny feels the sting of that look shot at him, head ducking in apology. It all makes complete sense, and Soap has never owed him a single thing, lucky he’s even here able to still talk to him. Rover is given a release word when Soap steps aside, immediately breaking from his side to enter the room and nose at the other man’s leg, coaxing him towards the chair at his desk.

Benny takes his time entering, making sure to mind where he steps. The bed doesn’t seem appropriate, and he’d rather not stand there awkwardly the entire time. He finds a place on Johnny’s desk, sitting carefully while Rover takes his place at the other’s feet.

“.. there ain’t no use in me sayin’ sorry anymore. All I can tell you is I ain’t know anything until it was happenin’, but that ain’t an excuse..”

The only time he’s ever felt this sort of guilt before was years ago, back when he had lost Fox and his best friend within the span of a week. He can’t help but stare, taking in the details of his face.

“I know that there’s nothin’ I can do to make any of this better. I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least try to be in your life. Even if it ain’t in the way I had hoped.”

Just a chance. Another one to be exact.

[soapandsuds]

johnny's gaze follows the dog, a deeper frown pulling at his lips when he's urged back by it. with a low sigh, the scotsman relents, taking a few steps back before turning around and heading back towards his desk chair to sit down. he busies himself with opening a drawer and depositing the pistol that had rested on top of the desk, exchanging the weapon for the bottle of meds that were tucked in the back.

“ya have t’get used to no being in peoples lives if they don’ wan’ ya in them, ben. is no a choice ya can change. it's theirs.”

two, for now. he shakes the small tablets in his fist, only taking a moment to ready himself for the bitter taste once they hit his tongue. they're thrown into the back of his throat, and he dry swallows them, only letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding once they're clear of his throat. he turns his attention to the man that now sits on his desk while the hand that held his pills lifts and presses against the scar at the center of his forehead, eyes flicking down and an eyebrow raising as if to say why the hell are you sitting there?

“i know ya didno have a say in any of it, but ya still stood by his side while it happened. while me and me team practically go’ hunted fer sport by a man we trusted with our lives no an hour before all tha’. hard t' forgive, harder t' forget.”

[akahound]

Benny’s face goes blank, gaze shooting to the floor. He’s had his fair share of having to just be okay with no longer being in the life of someone he’s cared about. He wonders where she is now, if she’s living her life, if she’s happy. He only hopes she never ended up like him, stuck with mistake after mistake, regretting the life he’s built. His fingers curl around the edge of the desk, squeezing intermittently to give his brain something to focus on other than the spiral.

“I know..”

It’s a struggle to get out, voice clipped. When he stands there’s a bit of a stumble, regaining his footing to shuffle away, standing in the corner like some shitty house lamp. There plenty to say there at the tip of his tongue. He wants to apologize again in hopes that it would land this time, tell him that he’s spent his entire life fighting to be in the life of those who want nothing to do with him, and how it’s never really quite worked out how he planned it. But none of it would have any worth voicing out loud.

“I’m not a field operative, not anymore. I know you’re aware of that, but that night, I wasn’t out there on the field. I was at an evac point for the dogs. Wasn’t even told why they were needed, just that they were. You think— you think if I knew that any of you were being hunted I would have agreed with it?”

Benny shifts uncomfortably, chin tucked to his chest.

“It’s not easy to just forget you, Soap.. I’ve been trying to, not for me, but for you. To give you some peace from it, but I just can’t.”

[akahound]

Bro, smell check me? Do I smell like cigs?

@sgt-riot

I don’t need to smell you, you most definitely smell like cigarettes.

[sgt-riot]

Ay, c'mon - I put cologne on and everything. Is it really that bad?

[akahound]

I dunno who lied to you and told you that cologne masks the smell of cigarettes, but it very much does not.

At least you smell like every other guy in here now.

[akahound]

Bro, smell check me? Do I smell like cigs?

@sgt-riot

I don’t need to smell you, you most definitely smell like cigarettes.

[akahound]

[[closed rp with @soapandsuds ]]

Almost exactly a month later Benny finds himself back in Credenhill, jet lagged to all hell, but on one simple mission to finally talk with the only person he’s been wanting to see for months now. Especially after their last conversation. By the time he makes his way to base, clears himself to security, and finds his way to Soap’s barrack the sun is starting to set. Most men are back in their rooms, or fixing up small details for night shift turnover. It’s not Bentley who joins him, but a different k9. Still a Malinois.

The knock on Soap’s door is short, just two careful taps against the wood before he steps back, rocking on his heels while he waits for the door to open.

[soapandsuds]

the grease covered microfiber cloth smooths against the metal slide of johnny's pistol, working to clean every single dip and divot. it wasn't like the gun wasn't clean — it always was — he just needed something to keep his mind occupied. especially since he knew that benny would be arriving at any point in the day.

the knocks caught him off guard, cloth slipping from his fingers to land on his little desk. johnny presses his lips together in a thin line and sits up straight, taking his time to put the pistol back together before pushing himself out of the desk chair and walking towards his door. he hesitates, briefly, fingers wrapped around the handle; opening it after a few breaths.

“benny.” it comes out with a breath. the scotsman wasn't expecting anyone else, yet the sight of the man before him still somehow surprised him. he shifts his weight and takes a step to the side to allow benny to enter his room, face carefully smoothing out into something stoic.

[akahound]

“Johnny—“

It tumbles out in response before he can stop it, immediately wincing in regret. There’s that line, the one he stands at waiting to see what is and isn’t okay anymore. There’s hopelessness in his gaze remains, grappling with both his feelings for the man in front of him and the situation itself. Beside him, the dog shifts forward, sniffing at the air in Soap’s direction. It snaps Benny out of his staring, running a hand nervously through his curls.

“This is Rover. I trained him up for you cause I know you’ve been havin’ a time. You don’t have to take him, I know dogs are a lot of work, but he’s trained to detect migraines and oncoming episodes.”

Benny takes a glance around the room behind Soap, nervous teeth chewing at the bottom of his lip. Out of everything he’s ever fucked up, this is the last thing he wants to ruin. Guilt sticks to his insides like sludge, the heavy weight in his stomach causing that thin lipped expression, like a dog attempting not to vomit.

“Could I come in?”

[soapandsuds]

the features of his face twitch when he hears his name falling from benny's lips, eyebrows scrunching and mouth pulling into a frown briefly. there was a line, and benny had crossed it. he had no right to call johnny that anymore. he had lost that privilege years ago — the moment graves had uttered those words before opening fire on his team, and the vaqueros.

‘general shepherd sends his regards.’

he shakes his head, pulling himself from his own thoughts. johnny barely regards the canine next to benny, only letting out a small grunt of acknowledgement that it even exists before he takes yet another step to the side.

“s’why i moved. ya wanna talk, lets talk in here. no use standin’ round outside me door an’ letting the entire base hear.” he taps his foot a bit impatiently, eyes falling down to the dog once again. he wonders how long it would take the thing to alert for the migraine that was already starting to build. he would have to find a moment to take his meds.

[akahound]

Benny feels the sting of that look shot at him, head ducking in apology. It all makes complete sense, and Soap has never owed him a single thing, lucky he’s even here able to still talk to him. Rover is given a release word when Soap steps aside, immediately breaking from his side to enter the room and nose at the other man’s leg, coaxing him towards the chair at his desk.

Benny takes his time entering, making sure to mind where he steps. The bed doesn’t seem appropriate, and he’d rather not stand there awkwardly the entire time. He finds a place on Johnny’s desk, sitting carefully while Rover takes his place at the other’s feet.

“.. there ain’t no use in me sayin’ sorry anymore. All I can tell you is I ain’t know anything until it was happenin’, but that ain’t an excuse..”

The only time he’s ever felt this sort of guilt before was years ago, back when he had lost Fox and his best friend within the span of a week. He can’t help but stare, taking in the details of his face.

“I know that there’s nothin’ I can do to make any of this better. I just wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t at least try to be in your life. Even if it ain’t in the way I had hoped.”

Just a chance. Another one to be exact.

[akahound]

[[closed rp with @soapandsuds ]]

Almost exactly a month later Benny finds himself back in Credenhill, jet lagged to all hell, but on one simple mission to finally talk with the only person he’s been wanting to see for months now. Especially after their last conversation. By the time he makes his way to base, clears himself to security, and finds his way to Soap’s barrack the sun is starting to set. Most men are back in their rooms, or fixing up small details for night shift turnover. It’s not Bentley who joins him, but a different k9. Still a Malinois.

The knock on Soap’s door is short, just two careful taps against the wood before he steps back, rocking on his heels while he waits for the door to open.

[soapandsuds]

the grease covered microfiber cloth smooths against the metal slide of johnny's pistol, working to clean every single dip and divot. it wasn't like the gun wasn't clean — it always was — he just needed something to keep his mind occupied. especially since he knew that benny would be arriving at any point in the day.

the knocks caught him off guard, cloth slipping from his fingers to land on his little desk. johnny presses his lips together in a thin line and sits up straight, taking his time to put the pistol back together before pushing himself out of the desk chair and walking towards his door. he hesitates, briefly, fingers wrapped around the handle; opening it after a few breaths.

“benny.” it comes out with a breath. the scotsman wasn't expecting anyone else, yet the sight of the man before him still somehow surprised him. he shifts his weight and takes a step to the side to allow benny to enter his room, face carefully smoothing out into something stoic.

[akahound]

“Johnny—“

It tumbles out in response before he can stop it, immediately wincing in regret. There’s that line, the one he stands at waiting to see what is and isn’t okay anymore. There’s hopelessness in his gaze remains, grappling with both his feelings for the man in front of him and the situation itself. Beside him, the dog shifts forward, sniffing at the air in Soap’s direction. It snaps Benny out of his staring, running a hand nervously through his curls.

“This is Rover. I trained him up for you cause I know you’ve been havin’ a time. You don’t have to take him, I know dogs are a lot of work, but he’s trained to detect migraines and oncoming episodes.”

Benny takes a glance around the room behind Soap, nervous teeth chewing at the bottom of his lip. Out of everything he’s ever fucked up, this is the last thing he wants to ruin. Guilt sticks to his insides like sludge, the heavy weight in his stomach causing that thin lipped expression, like a dog attempting not to vomit.

“Could I come in?”