#baker para

[cptdancox-blog]

The Long Wait [Daniel && Baker]

When Daniel walks into the bunks, five soldiers snap to attention. He lets them go quickly, returning the salute and tucking his hat under his arm. There are around a hundred men under his command, and Daniel knows every single one of their names and faces. Now, he has thirty new women coming in, ready to fight. They are new faces to learn, new faces, new people. Well, twenty-night of them are. So Daniel finds himself desperately needing time with his bunks, as unprofessional as it is to lay around. He sees glass bottles hidden under bedposts and contraband hidden between sheets and socks. He doesn’t have the headspace to dress anyone down.

“At ease, Gentlemen.” And the men are back to milling around, albeit a little more careful in their actions. Daniel roams around, looking for a happy face he can distract himself with. If only there were ladies about, a proper distraction. But, there aren’t, and Daniel finds himself sitting at PFC Baker’s bunk.

“How’s it going Baker?” Daniel asks with a hand on his bedpost, trying his hardest to look casual. It comes off slightly forced and definitely awkward, and Daniel feels like just walking away. The only thing that awaits him in his bunk is unwanted thoughts and a stupid tattoo he can’t stop tracing with his fingers.

[georgiarays]

Dirt Sweat And Booze // Ray & Baker

Cleaning always has a way of making Ray work up a sweat. He gets through the rest of his never-ending pile of dishes easily, but when Ray recides to tackle the cheap tile floor, he runs into some problems. The cleaning supplies he’s found are a bit expired, and it’s been almost a year since the Place has gotten a good scrubbing down. About halfway through the persistent stains, Ray winds up losing his shirt, hating the feeling of the damp cotton clinging to his back and arms. He uses it like a rag from then on out, moping the top of his forehead, and trying to keep his back from getting too sweaty. There’s no one there to be bothered by the view, and Ray’s scars have healed up so well that they’re faint marks now, and not big angry slashes on his chest.

He loses track of time. Doug, and possibly Charlie, are supposed to be meeting him at some point, but the floor’s turning into a real hassle and he’s frustrated and annoyed but it. Ray takes small breaks, a glass of water here, some beef jerky there, but always find himself coming back to the floor. The mop isn’t the best quality, and he winds up scrubbing on his hands and knees halfway through a particularly rough stain that doesn’t want to come up. When the knock at the door happens, Ray’s got all but the entryway really cleaned up, and hey opens the door a sliver, allowing Doug through.

“Good evenin’ Doug. Grab a seat I’m almost done.”

Then he turns back to the mop, putting as much elbow grease into it as possible. He has to be open tonight, which means this needs to get done, or it’ll bother him. Ray can feel the mop bend under his rough pushing, but he continues trying to clean it up anyways.