#thomas henn

[boxoftheskyking]

Merry Christmas from Billy and Tom (and . . .)

Billy sleeps like a rock after family dinners, particularly those that bring Henns and McMaths together. It's not like combat, exactly, not really like combat at all, but he does get the familiar feeling at the back of his neck and in his shoulders. A particular brand of tension. It knocks him out ten minutes from hitting the pillow, every time, unless Tom makes a sincere, concentrated effort to keep him awake. Which he has not done this Christmas Eve, thanks to Cora's mulled wine.

It's just past two when he wakes with a start, knees already folded under him, ready to spring out of bed.

"GOD REST YOU MERRY GENTLEMEN, LET NOTHING YOU DISMAY!"

He's thrown the window open in less than a moment, sticking his head and half his bare torso out into the foggy night.

"I thought you were in Tibet!" he calls down, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

Garrett grins up at him, face peeking over a buttoned-up parka and what looks to be four different colored scarves.

"I was, yeah. Got bored. It's all very serene."

"Wh'zzit? Who's the-- Wha-- Billy, Jesus fucking fuck." Tom pulls a pillow over his head and turns over, backside sticking petulantly from his nest of blankets.

"It's a Christmas miracle," Billy hisses, stretching out a foot to poke at the lump in the bed. "The baby Jesus has sent us a homeless man in a parka."

"What the fuck," Tom says to his pillow, as if expecting it to explain.

"You coming up, then?" Billy calls down.

"Can't, Mackie. Just god resting my merriest gentlemen and heading on my way."

"How long are you in town?"

"Dunno."

"Call us tomorrow, will you? We'll get a drink."

"Maybe. We'll see where the wind takes me. It all depends."

Billy looks down at him and grins. "Happy Christmas, Gar."

"And you, and you." Garrett gives him a mock salute and turns on his heel, tromping deliberately through the largest puddle he can find. "ADESTE FIDELES--"

"Good night!" Tom bellows into his pillow. Garrett throws a wave behind him and vanishes around the corner.  

Billy shuts the window and slides back into bed, tangling himself with whatever bits of Tom he can reach. Tom yelps and half-heartedly tries to fight him off.

"Cold cold cold cold," he gets a pinch of Billy's side and twists, eyes still shut.

"Ow! Fuck, go back to sleep."

"How are you so cold? You were only up five fucking seconds."

"Good night, baby."

"I worry about your circulation, you know. I really do. You're not as young as--

"For the love of fuck, go to sleep, Henn."

Tom tucks himself closer and starts to drift. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, and god bless us every bloody, buggering one."

[pati79]

I was hesitating, I didn't know whether I should post these as updates, because the fic hasn't updated for so long, but then I confirmed that none of AQ's fics are abandoned so.... ok, the truth is: These are both Henn/Billy, both explicit, both by Erin. That should be enough, go, go, go.

[boxoftheskyking]

A Good Day: TTOBB fluff

"Carry your books?" a teasing voice carries up the few concrete steps as Billy blinks his way out into the fading light. His breath catches somewhere around his navel and he snaps around, dropping off in the middle of whatever question he was about to ask Laura. All of a sudden, it's like Friday again, like seeing him for the first time in months. Tom's eyes seem almost too bright, his hands tucked into the pockets of worn old sweatshirt, leaning against the railing with a deliberately casual air. He might look like just another student, waiting for the hall to empty, if he hadn't started grinning from ear to ear the second Billy stopped walking.

Billy shifts his bag higher on his shoulder and takes the steps two at a time, stopping about a yard away from his husband with an equally silly grin.

"Hi," is all he can think to say, somehow managing to smile even wider drinking in the sight of him, out in the daylight in jeans and a sweatshirt. Since he took his fatigues off three days ago, Billy hasn't seen him in much of anything, and for some reason the casual comfort of him clothed, leaning there against the brick makes his presence incredibly real. Tom holds out a hand, grin fading to something softer, sweeter, and Billy takes it with a catch in his throat. 

He is still for a moment, then gives Tom's hand a strong yank, pulling him in and tucking their joined hands into the small of Tom's back. He slips his other hand around the back of Tom's neck, pulling him closer and kissing him deeply. He pushes in closer so Tom is bending backwards, weight entrusted to the curve of Billy's arm. Tom fists his free hand in the back of Billy's jacket and returns the kiss, slow, deep, and just this side of dirty.

When they break apart, Billy drops his hand in order to wrap his arms more firmly around Tom's waist, burying his face in the side of his neck and breathing in deep. Tom locks his own arms around Billy shoulders and kisses the curve of his ear.

"God, I love you," he whispers, hot breath making Billy shiver and hold on tighter for a moment before letting him go. He steps back and smoothes his hands down Tom's arms to where they've settled on his own waist. 

He hears a giggle from a few feet away and turns to see Martin, Laura, and Niamh framed in the doorway. Martin has a hand over his mouth, trying to hide a smile, Niamh is so red she's almost glowing, and Laura is slipping her camera back into her purse with a wink.

"Laura!" Billy scolds.

"What? You were being picturesque."

Tom looks over to Billy with a raised eyebrow. Billy shakes his head once and rolls his eyes with an exasperated smile. "Tom, meet my friends. Guys, this is my husband."

Laura and Niamh each give a little wave, Laura looking chagrined and Niamh a bit shy. Martin shoulders his bag and tromps down the stairs, holding out a hand to shake.

"About bloody time," he says. "We've been hearing about you for ages. Now come on, or we'll miss our table." 

He cocks his head at the women and they follow him down the sidewalk.

"You coming, Mac?" Niamh asks as she passes, flicking her eyes between him and Tom.

"What do you say? Fancy a drink?" Billy asks almost cautiously. Tom shrugs and pulls him off to follow the others.

"Why not? I could use a bit of excitement in my life." He tucks his arm more tightly around Billy's waist and smiles as Billy throws back his head and laughs.

[ignore things like timing, this was my antidote to reality]

[boxoftheskyking]

EDITED Pub Night: TTOBB Indelible fic

Vaguely edited

Still haven't decided if I'm keeping it, so here, you can have it.

Mac with his college buddies while Henn is shooting at stuff.

Pub Night

"So I just said 'Good Luck,' and then, like, walked away." Martin says and takes a long pull from his beer. The others nod sympathetically.

"Yeah, that's always tough. The first encounter with the married ex," Niamh says, patting him on the arm.

"Everybody's been there at some point. Congratulations, you're a man now. Heartbreak and disillusionment." Charlie raises his bottle and they all respond, laughing.

"You'll be a great teacher, Charlie," Billy deadpans. "Real bright light for our nation's youth."

"Fuck off, Mac," he laughs. Billy smiles and looks down into his beer.

"I just-- I shouldn't miss her. It's stupid; it's been fucking years. Actual years. But I always said to myself, you know, 'Get your shit together, then call her.' It's so stupid. I was just-- Fuck, I'm in school now, right? Like, I was going to get my degree and then-- Fuck, I don't know." Martin scrubs his hand through his hair and leans back in his chair.

Their corner of the pub is dimly lit and warm, all dark wood and low music. It's only the second Thursday that they've all gone out, but it looks like it'll turn into a weekly thing. The five of them met at the beginning of term, all new students at an information session about teaching qualifications. It was Charlie who brought them all together with his loud voice and easy laugh.

Their relative age in comparison to most of their classmates was another helpful factor. Charlie had spent a few years working in his father's restaurant before deciding--as he tells it--"I can recite two chapters of Ulysses from memory. Do I really want to be a prep cook for the rest of my life?" Martin had left school before his GCSEs, so spent the last few years getting qualifications on his own. Niamh had been "traveling," though she's never more specific than that, and Laura remains a bit of a mystery. 

 Since then, they'd met up  once in a while to study, and had finally managed to work out a decent pub night. The atmosphere here is already different from their mostly quiet study sessions, a change which is helped along by Martin's recent heartbreak.

"Feelings can be stupid," Laura shrugs. "Don't get all guilty about it. Everybody gets heartsick sometimes."

Niamh kicks her under the table and she grins.

"Speaking of heartsick, look at Billy Mac," Charlie says, digging an elbow into his side. "Where the hell did you just go, man?"

Billy snaps back to attention, looking up from his glass. "What? Nowhere."

"You heartsick too, Mac?" Laura teases, and Niamh kicks her again while trying to hide a blush. 

"Yeah, I suppose so," he says, smiling slightly. Charlie gives him a sympathetic half-smile. Niamh fiddles with the ends of her sweater sleeves.

Martin sighs. "The one you love married, too?"

Billy furrows his brow for a moment. "Well, yeah." Martin raises his glass in a melancholy salute. Billy continues, "To me, though. So I don't think that counts."

Charlie snorts and Martin sets his glass down, shaking his head.

"No it does not count," he moans. "Why am I always alone in my misery?"

"You're married?" Laura asks, trying not to flick her eyes in Niamh's direction.

Billy nods. 

"You never mentioned it."

"Didn't come up."

Laura grins at him. "You're a mystery, you are. Billy Mac, former soldier--," she falters as Billy makes a face. "What?"

"Nothing. It's just-- Royal Marines Commando."

They stare at him.

"You say it so casually. Like, 'No big deal,'" Charlie grins, elbowing him again.

"Shut the fuck up, Ryder," Billy laughs, shoving him off.

"Our friend here was a fucking commando, people. Green Beret shit." 

Martin whistles admiringly and Billy tucks his chin to hide a blush. Laura raises her eyebrows at Niamh, who makes a face at her and takes a long drink from her cider. Charlie claps a hand on the back of Billy's neck.

"A married ex-commando who spends his days in the hallowed halls of learning with undeserving civilians such as ourselves--" Billy shoves his hand off and laughs as he continues, "And apparently spends his nights in wedded bliss with some pretty young thing we know nothing about."

"Don't act all offended," Billy retorts. "I just fucking met you."

Charlie winks at him. "I can still call you Soldier Boy, though, right?"

"Why haven't we met her? You could have brought her along, you know," Niamh says brightly, still picking at her sweater.

"Actually, he's in Afghanistan right now."

There is a brief silence as the four consider this piece of information.

"Oh," Laura says after a second.

"Wait a second." Charlie's eyes narrow and the corners of his mouth start to curl. "You're telling me Soldier Boy's got his own Soldier Boy?"

"Commando, Charlie," Laura scolds.

"Your husband-- You fought alongside your husband?" Niamh asked, eyes wide.

"Until this past spring, yeah. That's how we met."

"That's actually pretty romantic," Laura says, and Niamh nods earnestly. Billy shrugs.

Martin leans forward, looking seriously at Billy. "They're okay with that? I mean, they're cool about guys getting married and then serving together?"

Billy shrugs again. "Why not?"

"I don't know, I just figured-- Anybody ever give you any trouble?"

"They're a couple of commandos, Martin," Charlie says with an exasperated expression. "How much trouble do you think anyone's going to give them?"

Billy barks a laugh. "Yeah, that's definitely true. But, I don't know, it's been all right. Every so often you get some asshole talking shit, but nothing that's ever really bothered me. Or Tom."

"Can we see a picture? Is he cute?" Laura asks.

"You're asking me if I think my husband is cute?"

"Seriously, man, you are surrounded by hopeless single people tonight. Let us vicariously enjoy your happiness," Martin all but pleads. Billy laughs and pulls out his phone.

"Here." He flicks through a couple of screens, then finds a folder marked "Tom." "There's stuff in there. It's my round, and I think Martin needs something a little stronger. Anyone else changing?"

"Fuck it, get me a rum and coke," Laura says, taking the phone from him. "Hang on. This isn't just, like, a bunch of naked pictures, is it?"

The other men laugh, but Billy purses his lips, thinking. "Which folder is it?"

"Just says 'Tom.'"

"Then no, no naked pictures in there." Charlie whistles, Niamh turns pink, and Billy heads up to the bar. When he returns, the four have shifted their chairs to gather closer to Laura and the phone.

"Mac, this phone is awesome. The picture quality is ridiculous."

"Yeah, thanks. It was a wedding present. This friend of ours, real posh guy. He had it customized for us. Something about international something and satellite whatever-- I don't know. It's got some kind of clearance, so I get to contact Tom a little more easily. And it's got a great camera."

"Gay, married, commando with special governmental privileges. Right." The others laugh and Charlie rolls his eyes. 

"And a nice voice," Niamh adds. Charlie gives her a look. "Credit where credit's due," she says simply.

"You've heard me sing?"

"You did 'Raglan Road' while we were walking back from the pub last week."

"Right--"

"This is a lovely one," Laura interrupts, tilting the screen so that Billy can see the photo she's referring to. 

Tom is mostly in the frame, looking up at the camera from their bed. He's propped up against two pillows, wearing an old grey T-shirt and pajama pants and eating a piece of toast. His hair is sticking up every which way, and he has pillow-creases across his left cheek, but his eyes are bright and open and his grin looks somehow surprised, like the photographer had just told an off-color joke.

"He's beautiful," Niamh says shyly, and Billy smiles warmly at her.

"Yeah, I think so."

"Definitely wouldn't kick him out of bed for getting crumbs on the blankets," Laura says.

"That's from the morning before he left. Back in September."

"Breakfast in bed. That's so sweet I may puke," Charlie teases.

"Sort of." Billy smiles at the image. "God, this is weird."

"What's wrong?" Niamh asks, looking concerned.

"I'm just not used to being with people who don't know him, you know? Haven't done this--" he gestures around to the group, "in a while."

"Ah, you're doing fine," Charlie says dismissively.

"Wedding shot?" Laura asks, flicking through a few more photos. Billy cranes his neck to see the screen. The picture is a segment of a long table, slightly off-center. Billy's mouth is half-open, looking somewhere to the right of the camera. An older man sits to his left, red in the face and teary-eyed. Tom is on Billy's right, staring at him with a tight jaw, lips pressed together. Under the table, barely visible, Tom is holding on to Billy's right hand with both of his.

"Doesn't look very happy," Martin says cautiously, leaning closer.

"Oh, that one. Cora--my sister, Cora--took that one. Um. My dad always makes me sing "Danny Boy" at family events--that's him, there on the right side. So everyone gets a little weepy, you know. And we'd had a bit to drink, at that point."

"That's adorable," Niamh sighs. "I have to admit, hearing you do "Danny Boy" would definitely make me cry. Not joking."

"My dad said that that's when Tom became a true McMath, so he didn't feel too bad about it. But then Cora labeled this one: 'Billy makes his new husband cry. First in series.'" Billy laughs. "That's my sister for you." 

The others chuckle and turn back to their drinks, settling into companionable silence.

"How long has he been gone?" Charlie asks, sounding uncharacteristically gentle.

"Two months, now," Billy says, trying to sound casual. "First tour without-- First tour that I'm not there."

"How are you doing?" Billy looks sharply at him, but Charlie's face is serious and kind.

"All right," he answers carefully. "I mean--."

He looks around at his friends and finds no pity or discomfort, only affection and calm understanding.

"It's hard. Of course it is. It's horrible. It's worse than I'd-- But it's all right. It's what we do, you know. This is what we do."

"It's hard being away from the people you love," Laura says softly, looking at the table. "I mean, obviously. You know it's going to be awful but that doesn't make it any--." She blinks quickly then looks up with a sad smile. "Well. Another day."

Niamh reaches across and squeezes her hand for a brief second before turning to Billy and asking, "Which picture's your favorite?"

"Mine?"

"Yeah. Show us your favorite one. The best picture of Tom . . . McMath?"

"Henn. His name's Henn."

Laura hands him the phone. Martin has been looking down at his hands, brow furrowed. 

"Is it worth it?" he asks. Billy looks up, startled. "I just mean," Martin continues, "I feel like absolute shit right now. And I'm not even-- This isn't even proper love. I mean is it worth feeling like that? Like you do now?"

Billy smiles softly at him. "Yeah. It is. No question."

Charlie leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head and grinning broadly. "The question is," he says through a yawn. "How does he feel about you being a college boy?"

"What do you--?"

"Surrounded by beautiful co-eds all day, bound to fall into some Hellenic tryst with an experienced old professor--"

"Shut the fuck up, Ryder."

"No one says 'co-eds,' anymore, Charlie," Laura points out. "Or 'tryst.'"

"This is why I will be teaching English and you will be teaching something inelegant. Like history. Or economics."

"Mac's not the type to stray, anyway," Niamh says with a reproachful look at Charlie. Billy laughs.

"If you knew my-- Sorry, this is just funny. No, Tom is not worried about me 'straying,'" he chuckles again, clicking through the phone. "Definitely not."

"You worried about him? Straying, I mean? " Charlie asked shrewdly, and Billy fumbles for a moment in his clicking. "Sweet face like that on a--what is he, a Sergeant?"

"Lieutenant."

Charlie whistles.

"No. I'm not." He thinks for a moment, then smirks up at Charlie. "This friend of ours--he's the one that got us together, really--he came by a couple of weeks before Tom left. Gave him this CD he'd burned of sixteen different covers of 'Ain't Misbehavin'. It was hilarious. I haven't seen him that pissed off in a while."

"Ain't misbehavin', I'm saving my love for you," Niamh sings. "That one?"

"Yeah. Of course, Tom-- He's not really the music guy, you know. So he didn't know the song. And so he listened to the first track and was getting more and more offended. And Henry--this friend--was just cackling away. But no, joking aside. Not worried."

"That was a rude fucking question, Charlie," Niamh scolds.

"I'm a rude fucking guy, Niamh," he responds with a wink.

"Here. This one's my favorite. I keep rearranging these damn folders, nothing's ever where I think it is." Billy hands the phone over to Laura.

"This a naked one? Not that I'd complain, honestly."

"No, this is my favorite clothed picture. From a long time ago. Before we were really together, actually."

The photo shows the common tent, with the couch in the center. Billy, shirtless but in his trousers and boots, is lying on the floor with his feet on the couch cushions, arms behind his head and buzzed hair looking almost blonde.  Tom has his shirt on, but it's open and for some reason he has nothing underneath, the lustre of his skin and the glint of his tags clearly visible. He's sitting on the couch, knees apart, looking down at Billy and laughing. One hand rests on Billy's raised knee. Billy's face is only partially visible, tilted slightly to the side to smile back at Tom. The tent flap is blowing slightly open to their left, letting in a shaft of bright golden light and seems to outline the scene. 

Laura smiles, looking over at Billy. "This is a great photo."

"I had it bad for him at that point. Tom had no idea. A guy from our section took that and when he showed it to me I was like, 'Why can't I have that all the time?'" 

"And now you do," Martin sighs, raising his glass. "Well done."

"Now I do."

"We get to meet him, right?" Niamh asks. "When he comes back?"

Billy smiles warmly at her, "Of course."

Charlie slaps him on the shoulder. "I'm going to get us another round. We are all switching to something stronger. There has been enough melancholy at this table for the evening. Billy Mac, your man's going to come back with war stories. It's up to us to make sure you've got something interesting to talk about. Can't have you boring the poor man to death after nine months of hunting terrorists."

"Hear hear!" Laura shouts, tossing back the rest of her drink and passing Billy his phone. Niamh smiles and adjusts her hair, tying it up higher on her head.

"Fuck it, I'm in," Martin says, slamming down his glass. "I could use some stories, too." 

Billy grins over at Charlie. "What did you have in mind?" he teases, making a show of rolling up his sleeves. Charlie rises.

"Oh, I don't know. The night is young. I'm feeling irresponsible. Let's go find some trouble."

[boxoftheskyking]

Side-Fluff

Day Before Departure

Tom wakes up to Billy dumping an armful of stuff onto his feet.

"Wh'th'hell," he mumbles, then grins as Billy slides under the sheets next to him. Tom curls up into his chest and presses his nose to the curve of his neck. Billy holds him tightly for a moment, then sighs and pulls back with a soft smile.

"Good morning," he whispers, and Tom squints a smile at him.

"Today," Billy announces, sitting up and adjusting his pillow behind him. "We are not leaving this bed unless absolutely necessary."

"Hmmm. I like it," Tom says, rubbing the sleep out of his eye and turning onto his side. 

"Starting with breakfast."

"Breakfast in bed? God, I'm spoiled," Tom grins, leans in, and drops a kiss on Billy's arm.

"Sort of. I didn't actually make anything, because that would break the rule of not leaving the bed. So." He reaches down to the foot of the bed and tosses a loaf of bread at Tom, smacking him in the face. Tom yelps and pushes up onto his elbows to see Billy setting a tub of butter and two plates on the nightstand. Billy unplugs the alarm clock and dumps it onto the floor, winking at Tom as he sets a toaster in its place. Tom throws his head back and laughs.

"You brought the fucking toaster!"

"It seemed easier," Billy shrugs, looking a bit shy. "Not very romantic, I know--"

Tom lunges at him, tackling him onto the bed and kissing him soundly. "It's perfect, and you're a genius."

It only takes a minute or two for them to end up hopelessly tangled in the sheet, Billy hanging halfway off the bed and laughing with Tom's face somewhere around his belly. 

Tom rolls off him and knocks two water bottles to the ground, which roll away to bang against the closet.

"Oh yeah. Forgot about those."

"A liter each?" Tom raises an eyebrow.

"It's important to stay hydrated," Billy lectures, freeing his legs and shifting back up onto the bed. "Particularly when engaging in strenuous activity."

"Strenuous activity?"

"Prolonged strenuous activity."

"Lucky I've got you looking out for me."

"Always, boy." Billy's grin falters for a moment and he sits back on his heels, chewing his bottom lip. Tom rises up onto his knees and traces his thumb across his cheek and down his jaw, face turning serious.

"Billy, I--" Billy cuts him off with a kiss, pulling him in by the waist and tightening his grip. Tom responds, winding his arms around Billy's neck and sighing a breath out through his nose.

When they finally break apart, Tom presses his forehead into the side of Billy's face and stays for a long moment, lips pressed tightly together. Billy pulls back and takes a deep breath, giving Tom a rueful smile.

"For today, we don't leave this bed," he says, and Tom's face softens. He nods and lays back down, pulling Billy by the hem of his shirt. Billy follows and pulls the sheet up around their shoulders. He slides his hand around Tom's side, under the thin cotton of his shirt and up the smooth warmth of his back. Tom shifts closer and they both fall still, eyes closed, as the light grows and sounds from the street begin to drift through the window screen.

[boxoftheskyking]

This is what happens when you're nice to me, people. I write you awkward and questionably sanitary boning in the back of an old electrician's van. 

See why my real life relationships never work out?

[pati79]

Thomas Edwin Henn - The Royal Marines

...has his chapter at AO3

[boxoftheskyking]

If you are 5% as uncomfortable reading this fic as I was while writing it, I have succeeded.

Seriously, though, it's a good time.