#douglas rooks

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[Theyre getting along just fine]

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[Thanks that_dead_mike on Instagram for commissioning me :) ]

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Coffee Solves Anything | Prototype 2 Fanfic | Riley/Rooks

Safe for work ~1400 words

While Colonel Rooks was known for his rather good poker face, he had admittedly some difficulties in keeping his amusement from showing when he entered the small break room early in the morning. What supposedly was Lieutenant Riley looked more like a walking corpse pouring himself a mug of coffee. Even from the doorway it was easy to see the dark bags underneath the lieutenant’s eyes, not to mention his clothes were a complete mess: his turtleneck was only half-tucked in his pants, and those said pants were barely hanging on his hips anyway.

“That’s not exactly a suitable look for a fresh lieutenant, Riley,” Rooks remarked to his trusted aide as he stepped in, trying to reach a condemning tone in his voice. He didn’t manage it perfectly, but well enough to get Riley’s attention.

“No shit?” the lieutenant barked back, sounding like he had a killer cough. “Fuck off.”

Now letting a humored grin curl on his lips, Rooks walked next to Riley and picked a mug for himself. He nudged the mug towards Riley in a remarking way, and even though the lieutenant gave him a murderous glare to go along with it, he shared some of the black poison with the colonel.

“Rough night? I know a few tricks to help with a hangover,” Rooks questioned, even though he could almost guess this wasn’t just a case of a badly chosen drinks.

Riley croaked back a dry, throaty scoff: “I fucking wish. Can’t remember the last damn time I got that wasted.”

With that, the lieutenant emptied approximately half of his coffee with one, big gulp. Rooks just chuckled, settling for an ordinary sip from his mug- though he almost spat even it right back. Not that the colonel was usually the one to complain about strong coffee, but just how many packages of instant coffee had Riley used for this stuff? It was a miracle that it didn’t eat itself right through the bottom of the mug- the damn stuff was like tar!

Yet, Riley seemed to drink the hazardous black liquid with great contentment, even giving out an accepting sigh as he lowered the mug. He shook his head and blinked a few times, feeling the blessed powers of caffeine kicking in. He was as far away from the religious type as one could be, but right then he could’ve sung flattering praises to the Lord for creating coffee beans. While he was at it, though, he could just as well curse the said Lord for quite a few things.

“Those damn rookies- where do they pick them from?” the lieutenant growled lowly, speaking more to himself than to Rooks. “With a fucking ‘hey, we need the biggest fucking idiots on Earth’ add on a damn magazine? Fuck!”

The cursing made Rooks forget the poison in his hand for a moment, an amused grin returning on his face.

“Ah, so you lost your late night paperwork virginity?” the colonel couldn’t bite back a laugh and for a next brief instant it looked like he’d get a mugful of hot coffee right on his face. It would’ve probably served him just right, but Riley got a hold of himself before committing the act. Either the thought of having to fill more papers in explanation of why he had boiled the colonel’s face scared him, or he just didn’t want to waste a mug of coffee like that. At any rate, Rooks was served another of Riley’s patented silent-promise-of-murder looks instead.

“Got that right,” the lieutenant mumbled venomously, sipping his coffee again.

“Welcome to the life of an officer, Riley,” Rooks patted his aide sympathetically on the back. He, if someone, knew that paperwork was a total pain in the ass- and the first night with towers of papers to be filled was always the worst.

“God-fucking-dammit fuck,” going by the sound of the growling, Riley shared Rooks’ opinion. The lieutenant poured whatever was left in his coffee mug down his throat and turned to get a refill.

Rooks eyed his mug doubtfully – he hadn’t touched it since the first try. Carefully, as if handling some kind of acid, he brought the mug up and took a small sip. Damn stuff still stung like a kick to the face. Whatever made Riley drink such poison like water had to be worth hearing. Rooks should dig up those files later and read them through- he could always use a little laugh.

“I have to say, I’m rather surprised you actually did the paperwork,” Rooks noted when Riley turned back to him. “I wouldn’t have been surprised if you had decided just to burn them.”

“Well, it passed my mind a few times,” Riley admitted, managing a half of a smirk before sipping his coffee, this time in a bit more patient way. He was slowly beginning to look more like a human being. Something in that tar was clearly working miracles for him. Rooks, on the other hand, pondered whether to pour the stuff down the sewer or not. He wasn’t fancying for a heart-attack.

“I also thought that I’ll just shoot those damn morons and say they were KIA,” Riley added with a bit wider grin, clearly more than pleased with the thought. There was no hiding that he had imagined a thousand ways to brutally slaughter the morons who had caused the countless files to overtake his desk. 

“Sounds charming, but if that was possible, do you think you’d be here now?” Rooks chuckled, cocking an eyebrow at his aide. It made Riley’s grin die off, as if he was a small boy to whom father had just said that he can’t get a new shiny toy car.

“Point taken,” Riley sighed in a defeated way, taking a gulp of coffee to wash down his disappointment.

“But I wasn’t a total idiot as a rookie,” the lieutenant added sharply after lowering the mug. “I did good job, I just didn’t like those cocky bastards bossing me around.”

Rooks couldn’t help but chuckle: “Maybe your rookies just don’t like you.”

“Well, boo-hoo, the feeling is mutual,” Riley rolled his eyes and finished his second mug. He turned to pour himself yet another mug, but only faced the horrendous sight of an empty coffee pot. A short chain of curses passed his lips once again- and then he noticed the nearly untouched mug in Rooks’ hand, his eyes locking on it.

Without a word, the colonel offered his mug to his aide. The generous move got a bit surprised look from Riley, but the lieutenant accepted the mug nonetheless. Truth to be told, Rooks was glad he could get rid of the black poison without admitting he couldn’t drink it with a straight face.

“You know, you could recommend the worst lot of our new men to a red-zone mission,” Rooks suggested while Riley began emptying the last drops of the coffee, almost causing the lieutenant to choke.

“I wouldn’t recommend them to fix a damn toilet-,” Riley began, staring at the colonel as if he had just suggested the lieutenant to punch himself in the face. Rooks just raised his eyebrows at him in a remarking way, trying to look for some gears inside the lieutenant’s head. He could almost hear them clicking as they began turning when Riley finally caught his drift.

“Ingenious. Fucking ingenious,” Riley almost purred, a wide, crooked grin spreading on his face. Rooks had learned to recognize that devious look over the years. He could tell that Riley’s men were in darn deep shit now, and he didn’t even feel sorry. He would, however, demand every last detail of how the idea had been fulfilled later.

As if raising a toast, Riley raised the mug victoriously back on his lips. However, just as the very last droplets of coffee were about to slide into his mouth, something seemed to strike him and he lowered the mug: “Wait a fucking second- is that the reason I spent so much time in the red zones when I was a rookie?”

Rooks flashed him an amused grin which could’ve been enough of an answer even on its own: “If you only knew how frustrated some of your early commanders were when you just kept coming back, no matter where they sent you.”

“Motherfuckers,” Riley breathed out and Rooks couldn’t but help but laugh.

“What do you say if I buy you a drink tonight, you tell me what those idiots did, and then we figure out a suitable mission for them?”

 “Deal.”

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Bark Bark | Prototype 2 Ficlet, 232 words | Riley/Rooks

“Don’t get too cocky, Riley,” Rooks frowns at the lieutenant, anything but happy about the newest stunt he has pulled. “I’m still your superior- and you don’t go running around without me telling you to.”

Riley finds it oddly adorable how the colonel tries to claim the throne with such feeble words. Admittedly the lieutenant knows he has gone too far already, but he can’t resist the temptation to push even farther. The potential danger thrills him and he needs to know what happens next. He flashes an amused, wide grin, ridiculing the colonel’s words completely. Rooks’ expression darkens as he grabs the lieutenant by the collar and slams him against the closest wall, capturing the smaller man in his shadow.

“Laugh all you want- you’re still my loyal lapdog at the end of the day,” the colonel growls lowly, dangerously, edging so close that there are mere centimeters between their faces. Riley can see something primal, animalistic behind Rooks’ dark eyes- a basic need for control, need to claim for the position as the alpha male? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t care- he only knows that it does wonders to him.

“Bark bark,” he mocks, almost laughing, provoking. He feels fingers curling around his neck and he shifts against the wall, his breathing becoming edged, his pulse speeding up. Oh, this was getting good.

“Bark bark,” he repeats in a whisper.

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Lapdog | Prototype 2 Ficlet, 216 words | Riley/Rooks

Obviously there was something shady going on when a lieutenant and a colonel got along as well as Riley and Rooks did. Besides the inevitable rumors, it had become a routine that every time Riley was left alone with the troops, he got ridiculed for his relationship with the colonel. Poor bastards didn’t dare to risk pissing off the colonel himself, so they went for the second best option. Riley had collected quite a list of not-so-admiring nicknames, ranging from everyone’s favorite “lapdog” to simpler ones like “kiss-ass” and more creative ones like “Rooks’ personal bitch”. Even though Riley knew he should've probably just ignored the dickheads, with his temperament that was no option – and he had never been sorry for his volatile nature.

For example, take that incident in the bar. Served that fucker just right to find his teeth scattered around the floor after calling Rooks a faggot because “there was no other reason why he’d keep a mere lieutenant whose only advantage was a pretty face as his personal aide”. The colonel would’ve probably lynched the bigmouth gladly himself, but Riley hadn't been able to hold himself back. So, nowadays Riley was mostly known as “Colonel Rooks’ angry guard dog” - and in all honesty he was growing quite fond of the nickname.

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Possessiveness | Prototype 2 Ficlet, 117 words | Riley/Rooks

Rooks knew some of his colleagues wondered why he had suddenly taken a liking to wearing his collar up. He just tried to push it off his mind and act like he didn't even acknowledge the rumors lingering in the air. Were he to somehow react to them, it'd probably just strengthen them and then it'd be only a matter of time before someone would be daring enough to try to check the colonel's neck.

The neck decorated with a brutal looking bitemark - a little something Riley liked to leave behind as a reminder of who was in control at the end of the day. Rooks could never tell whether he enjoyed it or shamed it.

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Daydreaming | Prototype 2 Ficlet, 286 words | Riley/Rooks

Rooks stood tall and composed, despite the fact they had just pulled through a mission that cost them half of their men. Even though Riley could tell Rooks was frustrated, he always was after failures, it barely showed - even his voice stayed calm while he went through the details of their next mission.

Riley watched Rooks in awe, feeling thrills crawl on his skin just from the colonel's rough voice. Everything in Rooks embodied deep and rough experience - something the lieutenant couldn't help but admire. Hot damn. What would he give to run hands over that well-trained body and carefully examine every muscle and map every scar. To be close enough to inhale Rooks’ scent which had to be tainted with all the dirt and gore from his old battles. Fuck, just the thought made Riley's mouth water and awoke the teasing burn of arousal. Wonder how Rooks would groan if-

"Riley?" a sharp growl woke Riley from his daze to a painful realization that he had just missed everything the colonel had possibly said.

"Uh, sorry, sir," Riley stammered in a momentarily panic. He could only hope he hadn't let his eyes wander like his thoughts had. "I... got a bit lost in thought."

"I noticed," Rooks remarked bluntly, frowning slightly at Riley. The glare burned right through the lieutenant - at least so he felt. Fuck, had the colonel noticed something? Oh, he was so dead. So very dead.

"Focus, we need to go through the next mission plan," the colonel snapped, turning away. "I don't want more screw-ups."

"Y-yes, sir. Sorry again, sir," Riley answered, feeling a wave of relief washing over him. He was off the hook - for now.

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Close One | Prototype 2 Ficlet, 206 words | Riley/Rooks

"Fucker almost got my eye," while Riley doesn't seem to be too distressed, mostly damn pissed off, Rooks can't share his easygoing attitude about the injury. Staring at the blood-soaked, make-do bandage covering half of his trusted aide's face makes his chest feel oddly tight and heavy, as if something is slowly strangling him. It's such a foreign feeling that he can barely even recognize it as worry.

Nonetheless, Rooks can only scold his aide for being reckless - if not only because he doesn't know how to put his concern in words. Years in Blackwatch have taught not to care about such things - and usually Rooks' doesn't give a rat's ass. Yet, thinking about what could've happened... fuck.

"Oh, shut up," Riley snarls, clearly annoyed. It's exactly what one, especially Rooks, could expect from him - yet it sets something off in the colonel.

"No, you shut up," Rooks growls back, frustration suddenly blaring through his voice as he grabs Riley harshly from his collar, forcing him face a deep, sharp glare. "My aide won't get shot for being a suicidal moron, is that clear?"

For a moment, the lieutenant looks confused, maybe even somewhat shocked, but then grins mildly and chuckles: "Clear, sir."