Could you please do Terry telling John about Beloved or introducing them to each other?
Thank you 😊
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John Kreese wasn't exactly always all for the kind of people Terry tended to lead around on his arm; hook, line and sinker. He let that be known at times, in a paternalistic way someone slightly older lets these things be known --- and Terry was rich enough to where someone needed to be sincere with him once in a while --- someone who wasn't a paid suck up --- for his own good.
Wasn't John's manner to pussyfoot around.
Terry knew that and John knew that he knew.
Sure, call him old fashioned, but he believed in something called real, proper, goddamn love; people meet, go steady, like each for all the right reasons and settle down honestly, as they should. An ideal as universal and American as sliced pie and the pickled fence it went hand in hand with. He fought for that dream. Bled for it. Before Vietnam, John could even see himself coming home to such a life if what happened to Betsy didn't happen. She died. That was it. John didn't run from the hard facts and hard knocks of life, instead, he faced them head on like a man should. Much like Terry had to face that pretentious, fortune hunting high-end paid escorts, crooks after his money and influence and perfumed whores of any persuasion no matter how slick about their trade weren't necessarily the right kind to bring home. Fuck, yes. Have fun and enjoy life with, yes. Blow off some steam with and have orgies with on a private island or whatever Terry got up to these days, sure. But not to bring home. Least of all, expect John to take it all seriously. It wasn't the whoring itself as much as it was the lack of honest intentions. Hell, John tended to feel like something of a mother hen sometimes, teaching a grown man who and what to date when Terry was more than capable of taking care of himself and was slick as the slickest among them himself. He worried that the Cobra would encounter a greater predator in the gardens of life than itself and that struck him as ludicrous at this point when Terry was literally gracing the cover of Forbes. He supposed he worried the way an older brother or a father does. The way a Captain does. He supposed he sometimes still tended to see Twig in Terry, flustered about the concept of second base.
He saw Twig, in shimmers, as he spoke, through the occasional sheen in Terry's eyes.
He hasn't seen Twig in Terry's eyes for years.
-"So, how do you know?"- John amused himself, grimly, mustering a sincere half-grin, questioning Terry as they stood on the balcony of his mansion overlooking the vista. He was listening for nearly months about this special someone to the point that he caught that Terry actually wanted to be questioned more on the subject and for John to show an interest and he took as a cue to do so. Deduced that much. The subject of you was like a mouse Terry dropped at his feet, waiting for his praise.
-"I know."-
Terry giggled, elongating his 'know' into suggestive lengths as was his habit, cheeks puffed under the weight of his wide, crooked smile, his pores practically lighting up with mirth. His twinkling beam taking up the space of his entire face until his eyes and overall features were barely visible and hooded under his brow. Man was quite literally all smiles. Well now. Usually, Terry would go into salacious details, but now, he appeared more like a flustered boy, talking about a school crush.
-"That good, huh?"-
John has to quip, elbowing Terry into the side. The sex must've been out of this world...with this near-mythical being in question. -"You surprise me, Lieutenant."- He adds, entertained. -"Thought there wasn't anything under the sun that can get you whipped that much."- Usually, Terry's desires were extremely physical and in a sense, he couldn't help but be proud of the man Terry grew up to be since the army. Most eligible playboy in California. Who would've thought? -"Thought you tried it all."- He has to continue, now more serious, feeling Terry might conflate lust with love at times, making little to no differences between the two. Think just because someone can do outstanding endeavors in bed, it must mean that someone is innately special. John wasn't a prude --- far from. He had his share of life. He just hated to see a friend making a goddamn fool out of himself over some tail.
-"You know, we talked after it, man. Really talked."- Terry tries, fiery.
John's interest is renewed. Talked?
-"The way you and I talk."-
Terry explains fondly, vehemently, fingers reaching and pointing towards his own torso and then John's for emphasis, and John's taken back to a time of campfire chats deep into the night during long patrols in the bush. Comforting Terry when he was sick during marches and rambling on for hours to keep him awake and from succumbing to his wounds. Sharing dreams and hopes. Talking to pass time. Alleviate fear. Times of trouble, turns out, serve as the best moments a man can have the talk of his life and somehow, forging a brotherhood baptized in blood and John understands then. -"Never thought I'd be able to do that with anyone ever again."- Terry finishes off, Twig loud and clear on his face. John Kreese figures then, nodding, that you're not someone he'd mind meeting.
