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ekhap · 2 years

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The Christmas Cowboy

Hi all!

I would just like to begin this post by thanking the moderators over at @dualrainbow once again because those lovelies dealt with me using three different usernames on the sign-in forms, including my IGN, my nickname, and my actual username on tumblr.

But! I have a story to present to you! And so as such, I would love for you all to read my entry for Siegemas 2021 in response to the prompt, "Kissing under a mistletoe ⎯ “You know what that means, right?": The Christmas Cowboy (Bandit/Thermite, 1.9k words, Rated T)

Rook tended to go winter-crazy — he was always the one to gather decorations, organize the putting up of the major and minor trees, and any other minor decorations during the interlude between the Americans celebrating Thanksgiving with the other special ops and the beginning of the month of December. Usually, by the fifth of December, the base is nearly completely decorated, with the major tree in the center of the canteen, and a smaller, though still respectable tree somehow finding its way into each of the dormitories, including the women’s.

It’s a little odd. Though, with the exception for the Russians, who believe that it’s too early for celebrations, one has complained so far.

Blitz has started hanging around Rook, and so has, inevitably, brought the rest of the GSG9 along with him. While IQ has found company in the stalwart Doc, Jäger was already friends with Twitch, and Blitz gravitates towards Rook, it leaves Bandit alone with Montagne, the gentle giant of the GIGN.

Except Monty is far more interested in eavesdropping on Rook and Blitz than conversing with Bandit, which is reasonable, though just slightly hurtful. Just a little. Especially since Rook is talking about which one of his Christmas songs is the favorite, and it’s very strange that he’s so well-acquainted with American Christmas song. Boy’s been hanging out with Castle too much.

“You’re talking to Miles too much, Rook.” It’s not Bandit that says it, or even Monty with his slight smile. It’s a newcomer to the small table (decorated, of course) walking up with the fucking boots that could only belong to one man.

Thermite sits himself across from Bandit, right in between Monty and Jäger, wearing the most obnoxious cowboy outfit Bandit has seen – and in the three years of Rainbow’s operation, he’s seen a few. Halloween is always the same thing from the FBI — Cowboys and Ash’s poor little mutt as the sole Indian. This specific outfit, though.

“What sort of evil fuckin’ Christmas spirit threw up all over you, Jordan?” Really, it’s disgusting. Red vest, green undershirt which goes terribly with his green chaps, red and white handkerchief, and his boots are green with sparkles. Looking at where he must’ve walked in, there’s a light starry trail from the double doors that some poor custodian will have to clean up.

Jordan isn’t assuaged. “Oh, Dom, you haven’t even seenthe hat.” And if, in that moment, you asked Dom where the hell he could’ve pulled out a bright red cowboy hat greater than the size of Texas, he wouldn’t be able to tell you.

“I didn’t know you had that much space in your ass, Jordan.”

“It’s a whole freight train back there, you looking for anything?”

“I’d like to know where the hell everything went so wrong for you, cowboy.”

“I feel like we’d all like to know that, hm? Let’s start something, here.” He turns to the young, impressionable Frenchman. “Hey, Rook!” And he has the attention of the whole table. “Where did everything go wrong for you, lover-boy?”

“When my conservative father allowed me to do ballet, why?”

“Makes sense, dance does clearly lead into shooting terrorists for money, I hear.” The man who is clearly more intent on being a caricature of an American than representing his nationality well turns back to Bandit, still unimpressed.

“That’s one more thing that can fit in the freight train, what else do you want to shove up there?”

Bandit doesn’t hate the holidays. He really doesn’t, but when your only family that could’ve celebrated it was an absentee father and a twin with just as much fiscal ability as you, you don’t really develop an affinity with it as, say, Jäger does.

The engineer is currently in the process of decorating the tree Rook so kindly donated to them with the absolute gaudiest decorations possible. It reminds Dom of chunky jewelery. In all sense of life, outside of Christmas, apparently, Jäger is collected and conservative in his expressions of joys. He finally gets an experimental model of his magpies to works and the most you’ll see him do is high-five Fuze or smile with that perfect set of teeth.

Bandit also didn’t have feelings for the engineer. That would be ridiculous and unprofessional. And he absolutely did not despair when he found out that three of the four Russians were not straight, and the one who aligned most closely with Jäger’s personality got to him first. Asshole. And, to make things even worse, Dom can’t even complain about it, because two otherlovebirds are trying their best to be secret about their sordid affair.

It explains why the common room of their dorm has three gruff men in it right now, Glaz, Kapkan, Fuze, as well as the lanky German, and Bandit himself, all huddled around a tree slightly taller than all of them, trying to put the star on it without breaking the ceiling. They’re grown men. They’ll do fine.

They all thought this until Kapkan fell onto Jäger, causing Glaz to rush over and knock himself into Bandit, who body slammed Fuze, causing him to hit the side of the table. Whoops.

A quick call to Doc who says I’m too busy to deal with this shit and Fuze and Jäger are in the back of an ambulance while Kapkan drives Glaz and Bandit to the hospital behind him. Fuze didn’t request this entourage, though when a man forces you to become intimate acquaintances with a table, Glaz had said, you deserve the pomp and circumstance of a speedy journey to the hospital. Truly, a moment that deserved to be remembered, which was why Kapkan now has a full album of pictures of Fuze knocked out on the floor. And groggily trying to push him away. And a few videos of him trying to speak.

It’s not funny, though Kapkan is still giggling to himself as he recalls the past hour. It’s a bit morbid. But Bandit remembers how Fuze was slurring and — yeah, he’s going to hell. He knows it know.

“You doing alright back there?” It’s terrible how much of a worrywart Glaz is.

“Yeah, just—” Bandit snickers and Christ he really is going to feel the heat after he dies. “You remember Jäger’s face? I’ve never seen him scrunch up like that, like— oh, fuck— even when his tech fails him, it’s less of a brow furrow like that. Holy shit.” He stares up at the roof of the car, trying and failing to not laugh.

“He was worried. I know I’d be violent if something like that happened to— to someone I love.” Glaz looks uncomfortable, and it dawns on the German that, right, yes, they don’t know that he knows. Yikes.

“I mean, yeah, sure, it’s a reasonable response, but, like,” someone once told me that explaining yourself is an admission of failure, “Christ, yeah, I guess Jäger’s fine. But that whole situation was fucking funny.”

“Oh, it was hilarious.” And Kapkan hums in agreement.

There’s a moment of silence while they navigate some arterial streets before Kapkan speaks up.

“You know, when your car battery blew up in your face, Therm looked at you the same way. I’d watch your mouth.”

What?

The simulation was at some French consulate in West Africa, they donated it to peacekeeping efforts after multiple employees developed PTSD after a terrorist event Rainbow had to de-escalate. Bandit was putting his CED-1s on the garage wall when that asshole Twitch blew them up – he was knocked out for the round. Did he really?

“Yeah, Dom, he did. Get your shit together, why would we lie about that?”

“We’re here.” And lo and behold, there’s the marble walls of a community hospital. “And look who found out his friend got injured.” No.But there it is, the fucking Jeep that can only belong to one man because who the hell else would drive a Jeep and also be a professional terrorist killer—

“Howdy, partners. Y’all faring well this tragic evening?”

“Don’t talk like that.” If Bandit wasn’t stewing, he’d feel a little bad about snapping. But he’s thinking. Hard. And Jordan is bent almost at a perfect 90-degree angle so that he can smile at Bandit through his window, and not the others. What the fuck.

“What, does it offend you? You grow up in the wild west, pardner?”

“Let’s just go see Fuze.”

Fuze ends up being fine, a minor concussion, though Jäger is more torn up than Fuze about the whole situation. He gets to endure teases from the Russians and the sole American while Bandit sat a small distance away, staring at the back of the head of a specific American who is now, stupidly, stuck in his mind. How dare those Russians.

Thermite drives back Fuze and Jäger after the doctor agrees to home oversight, and Bandit returns with the other two Russians, just as he came. So he gets to question them further.

“Has he said anything about me?”

“What, Fuze? I doubt it, he thought Christmas had come and gone already.”

“Fuckin smart ass, Timur, I mean Jordan. Has he said anything about me recently? Or after the sim in Abidjan?”

“I don’t know, I don’t really talk to him. You know anything, Max?”

“Shuhrat would know, but he really doesn’t seem able to talk right now. And I highly doubt that Jäger would even let you in five feet of him if he knew that you were going to harass him. Mother hen, that one.”

“He sure is, but if I get around the Jäger defense system, and have a few minutes to pick his brain, do you think he’d know?”

The two Russians look at each other, and Kapkan slows down for a red light. “I suppose. Sim was a month ago. He should still know. Just his last 24 hours is foggy. You could try. Why do you want to know so bad, though?”

“I just— I just need to know, alright?

“Alright Dom, you do you.”

Bandit is on a mission, and nothing can stop him. He’s never known these halls better, and his well of information is just waiting for him around this corner.

“Hey Marius, I think I saw Mute fucking with your Magpie.”

“What the fuck, I told him not do that!” And just like that, Fuze is defenseless, Jäger running to the other side of the building. Bandit has at least ten minutes, fifteen if Mute is actually in the workshop and he’s just past this door—

“Jordan.”

“Dom!” He’s gotten up and has moved towards Bandit and is smiling like an idiot with a Fuze sitting at his desk behind him also smiling like an idiot like there’s some joke that he’s not getting and quite frankly it’s just rude to— “Look up.”

And, yeah, someone took the time to put a command strip hook on the ceiling and put a piece of mistletoe just right above the doorframe.

“Jordan, I am absolutely not going to—” And Thermites lips are soft against Bandits. It’s a moment initiated by the American, and after a second, Bandit realizes what’s going on, and melts into it, grabbing Thermite’s hips while Thermite cups Bandit’s face. It’s magical, and over all too soon.

“You know what that means, right?”

“What, Jordan.”

“It means I actually get to ask you if you want to experience this freight train of an ass.”

“Oh, my fucking God.” And, after a moment, Bandit leans in for another kiss.

#r6s #bandit #thermite #rainbow six siege #siegemas 2021 #bandit realizing hey cowboys are hot too #even if they solely wear christmas colors #americans amirite

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ekhap · 3 years

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Siege-o-ween, Day 6! 🎃

Super excited to be able to participate in yet another @dualrainbow event, thank you so much to the people organising everything and herding us kittens!! Make sure you follow them so you don’t miss a single day :) My prompt was “I hate Halloween.” and as I’d been looking for an excuse to write this particular fic, I took that prompt and ran with it (very far). Unsurprisingly, it’s Bandit/Ace once more, in an alternate universe. Please heed the warnings!

(Rating E, romance above all, sexual content, gore, non-permanent death, and some spookies in a light fantasy setting, ~19.4k words oof)

I also have to preface this with a temporary disclaimer: My brain has melted after I’ve written about 15k in two days, and there’s good news and bad news - good news: I’ve finished the fic! Bad news: I did not have time to beta read it. It’s coming to you naked. Unedited. Re-read an exact amount of 0 times. There’s slight continuity errors (3 that I’ve counted), plus likely awkward sentences and words that shouldn’t be there. If you do want to read this fic, do yourself a favour and wait no more than 24 hours. I’ll have enough time to go through it all tomorrow, I promise. I’m genuinely sorry for delivering it like this, but my conscience can bear not delivering anything even less than delivering something questionable.

I’ll also be posting this on AO3 very soon!!

Keep reading

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ekhap · 3 years

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Environmentober 2021 (1-10) by Andrey Maximov

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ekhap · 3 years

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Here’s the horror comic I drew for this year’s 24 hour comic day/48 hour comic weekend, called “The Night-Mother”.

Content warnings: miscarriage, child loss, violence, death, nudity

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ekhap · 3 years

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Awww crook and accessory 🥺💕

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ekhap · 3 years

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Just a lil tactical kiss

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ekhap · 3 years

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even more r6s stuff

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ekhap · 3 years

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Who do you think started the fight ? 😰 Rook or Glaz?

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ekhap · 3 years

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Warm Art

My art got pretty yellow and orangy over the last year

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ekhap · 3 years

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Barrière de la langue

Donc, euh. Salut!

Je veux dire que j'ai étudié le Francais pour, uh, quatre années. Je peux avoir un conversation des politiques et de l'environnement et quoi le liberte semble dans un société moderne, mais pour quelque raison, mon écriture sent très... gauche. Donc, avec ce démenti, je voudrais vous presenter mon histoire pour l'événement par les modérateurs à @dualrainbow, Barrière de la langue. Merci pour me laisser avoir un endroit dans cet événement !

Buck/Jackal, 1k mots, Les problèmes qu'arise quand vous avez un force qui vient de tout le monde. (évalué T/M)

« Je pense qu’il veut me tuer. »

« Maintenant, pourquoi est-ce que vous direz ça ? »

« Parce qu’il m’a dit que ‘Je vais vous prendre s’il est le dernier chose que je fais, Cote.’ Et, il avait son couteau de combat. »

« Ouais, enfin, il pouvait être très effronté, non ? »

~*~

Buck se rappelais quand il s’est inscrit Rainbow. Comment calme il était. Il était les combines normales par Bandit et Smoke, mais autre que ça, puisque Buck et Frost n’étaient pas membres de le cinq forces spéciales originales, Buck était libre être bas et seulement faire conversation avec les habitués de l’atelier.

Alors Jackal s’est inscrit.

L’Espagnol, qui s’est avéré gentil à tout les autres il a rejoint, a décidé que pour quelque raison, Buck serait son ennemi principal. Il n’était pas comment mauvais si, dis, Bandit a décidé harceler pour tout son temps en Rainbow, mais il est gauche quand même quand ils sont prévus pour la même mission.

Ou les simulations de combat omniprésent.

Avec les deux hommes classés comme « Capturer et Contrôler » agents, mais avec des très différents rôles spécifiques, Buck a trouvé souvent des commentaires sarcastiques lui jeter. Il était, vraiment, ridicule. Comment, pour l’amour de Dieu, pourrait camouflage blanc faire les cuissesde quelqu’un voit gros ?

Avec les remarques sarcastiques et le mal prononciation de son nom, (C’est Côté, pas Coute) il y a un plus problème. Un problème que rejet Buck seulement un petit peu.

Jackal est un beau gosse.

~*~

« T'es fous. » Buck s’assoit de l’autre côté de Glaz, la personne de choix pour des conseils rationnels, mais il semble de détester cet honneur. »

« Es-tu sûr qu’il n’est pas une perversion d’humiliation ? »

Glaz aussi semble être fini avec cette conversation. Un petit peu. Mais Buck vraiment a besoin de ses conseils. Principalement comment réparer sa relation avec Jackal, mais, peut-être-

« J’ai plusieurs des doutes qu’un historie d’ennemis aux amants va passer, Bastien. »

« Enfin, oui, bon, Je ne t’avais jamais demandé ce que tu pensais de cela mais bon, maintenant, comment est-ce que je peux faire un espagnol vouloir pas me tuer ? »

« Vous savez, » Pour l’amour de dieu, « Maxim me voulait mort quand on s’est reconnus premier. »

C’est nouveau. « Qu’est ce que tu veux dire ? »

« J’étais terrible combattre corps à corps. Il ne pouvait pas comprendre comment ils me laissent dans Spetznaz. » Pour la première fois que Buck s’est assoit ici, Glaz regarde à Buck. « Il m’a dit que si je ne pouvais pas de faire lui tomber, il voudrait me tuer lui-même. »

« J’assume que tu lui as démonté ? «

Son enquête est rencontrée avec du rire bruyant. « Non, mais avec un couteau contre votre cou, vous allez faire des choses désespère. »

« Incroyable. Bon, Considérer que la dernière fois que c’est passés il voulait me tuer, et il a dit autant que, comment est-ce que ça m’aide ? »

« Laissez-lui parler. » :

« J’étais seulement gentil avec lui ? Je ne pense - »

« Vous savez l’Espagnol ? Je vais dire il est plus cohérent dans sa langue native que le Français. »

Et oh. Attendez.

~*~

Jackal, s’il était plus de malveillant, poserait une figure très imposante. Grand, musculaire environ ses épaules et bras, et des yeux qui toujours semble un petit peu plus vif. Dans quel qu’autre domaine, s’il était dans une histoire, il serait le méchant principal.

Et c’est pourquoi c’est très difficile lui approche quand il glousse avec Rook. L’homme plus jeune tient son téléphone, et il semble qu’ils regardent des vidéos de chats. Mais Buck doit le faire. Il doit.

« Podemos, euh, hablar ? »

Et c’est un mixe d’expressions très bizarre sur le tète de l’espagnol. Du bonheur léger, à surprise, à confusion, avant retourner au petit sourire suffisant il portait quand Buck a démarché.

« Sí. »

Cela ira être difficile.

~*~

Ils s’assoient à une table près un mur – Jackal s’appuie contre lui et croise ses bras pendant que Buck essaie produire son téléphone et dit ce qu’il pense qu’il doit dire.

« OK, donc, pour les deux, enfin, dernières semaines, probablement, il semble que tu m’avais menacé avec, euh, des coups et blessures. Mais alors j’ai réalisé que, euh, le Français n’a pas probablement l’inflexion même que l’Espagnol, particulièrement pas le Français que je sais, donc, » Il arrive enfin à l’app correct – une application de traduction qui peut marcher aussi avec l’audio. « Donc. Qu’est-ce que tu penses de moi ? »

Son téléphone répète – « ¿Qué piensas de mí? »

Et Jackal sourit. « Creo que eres muy hermosa – como el cielo antes la puesta del sol, o las montañas después un incendio, tosco y duro. »

Buck jette un coup d’œil à son téléphone, espérer qu’il a attrapé tout qu’il a dit. Dans son voix monocorde, il dit « Je pense que vous êtes très belle. Comme le ciel avant le coucher du soleil, ou les montagnes après un feu. Toux et dur. »

« Ce, euh. Ce n’était pas un menace de mort. Euhm. » Il tape l’écran de son téléphone. L’app change des couleurs. « Pourquoi le couteau ? »

« ¿Por qué el cuchillo?”

« Solo yo puedo matarte. No algun terrorista. »

« Moi seul peux te tuer. Pas un terroriste. »

« Oh. »

~*~

Et Buck a trouvé plus tard, seulement un ou deux heures, que oui, le barbe de plusieurs jours est plus doux qu’il voit. Particulièrement entre ses cuisses grosses. Et, l’homme espagnol a le combination très rare d’un tète beau – une mâchoire dure et un nez royal – un sourire gentil, et une bite très belle.

C’est après leur deuxième ou troisième manche (peut-être le troisième de Buck et le deuxième pour Jackal ? Buck a perdu le compte.) que Buck réalise un petit chose. Juste – quelque chose qu’il ne devait pas considéré, mais –

« L’Espagnol n’est pas très dissemblable de Français, non ? »

Buck s’est pressé contre la poitrine de Jackal, mais il peut sentir le main qui trainait contre sa colonne arrête au pied de son dos.

« Non. Vraiment, ils sont très similaires. »

« Alors pourquoi - »

« Regarde d’où on est, Cielo. »

Et Buck vraiment veut disputer avec lui.

#Jackal #Buck #r6s #I spent half the time writing this on reverso translate uh oh #Jackal/Buck #They have such capacity to be cute #6'3/5'10 come on thats just asking for art #oh #glaz #French

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ekhap · 3 years

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:DD

Language Event 2021 Masterpost

Thank you all for your patience, we’ve been a little busy but here’s the schedule at last. The event will run from August 25th to the 31st, and we’re excited to present our multilingual authors:

25th: @grain-crain-drain - Muse, Eros, Ares - Korean

26th: @dagoth-menthol

27th: ACY

28th: @ekhap

29th: Pb

30th: @r6shippingdelivery

31st: Ric Cupcake

It’s a great opportunity to showcase that, even if English is the common language we use, this is a very diverse community and we should celebrate that! If you have a favorite author or fic in any language other than English, let them know they’re not alone and everyone is welcome here. See you soon!

-Mod Kiki

#events

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ekhap · 3 years

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The Beginning

And, with the first post on this account minutes ago, I am proud to present my first story for this tumblr - the Beginning. Bandit/Montagne, Rated T

Read it here! or below!

“I need you to look at me, okay? Look at me – everything is going to be okay. I swear.”

It wasn’t. He’s lying through his teeth and Dom knows it.

—*—

When Dominic Brunsmeier joined Rainbow, it was the break of a lifetime. He could start new – create a whole new persona that only Elias would see through. A persona that he could feel comfortable in.

Harry calls it a coping mechanism. Dom, though? It’s an asset of the highest degree.

Only when he joined and was faced with 18 new faces – he had never even heard of a Monika Weiss or Marius Streicher in the GSG9 – that he realized his mistake. These weren’t his buddies in Hell’s Angels, or even the normal workaholics in the GSG9, but battle-hardened professionals. Quite frankly, they could care less about how he presented himself. So he made them care.

Luckily, this didn’t make him too many enemies. In fact, he buddied up with the SAS bum who insists everyone call him Smoke. He says it’s to add to his mystique, but Dom just so happens to know that it’s reallybecause if another colleague calls him Jamie he will go feral.

A former alcoholic and a father to an adopted daughter. Yet again, someone who simply does not care who or what he is, but how much he can drink, prank the others, and win bets. They sabotage the coffee machine justright to make Thatcher infuriated when his tea taste like metal, and they giggle like schoolkids getting away with something.

Then, Dom’s eyes wander. Aurelia “Six” Arnot takes regular trips to other countries to scout out other counter-terrorism unit. American, Canadian, Brazilian, and Japanese men and women join the already-crowded halls of Hereford, and Dom thinks.

Thinks about how close the Spetznaz are, yes, but specifically how Kapkan and Glaz always drift towards each other before Fuze and Tachanka. How Rook looks when he gets off the phone after talking in excited French. How Thermite gravitates towards Pulse, who could really care less. How that traitor Smoke smacks Mute’s behind before demanding he make out with him. And then how Mute does. In the middle of the workshop.

Dom thinks, and he doesn’t like the thoughts his brain is spitting out.

—*—

“Please, put a little bit of effort in, Dom, we got to get you out in one piece.” A shot rings out in the distance.

The mission was supposed to be quick. The hostage was in a small holding cell, awaiting execution. Six had told them that they most likely had twelve hours to raid the Spanish cell of terrorists before they executed the hostage. A woman named Miriam, a scientist at the peak of her career, but the other operators could care less.

Dom cares. He remembers. Doesn’t do anything with the information, but she deserves a name. He missed his when he was undercover.

Bad Intel, he can imagine Six’s voice saying. He’ll be in the hospital when Ash gives the debrief, and he can imagine the casualty report - soclose to being pristine. Too bad he got shot, but at least it wasn’t dear Miriam.

Who the fuck is carrying him, anyways?

—*—

When he first approaches Marius, it didn’t go as successfully as he had hoped. Though, he should have expected that, as asking him directly, “Want to come back to my place,” with no preamble at the local bar would have made anyone confused. If Dom was being honest, though, the way he spit out his drink was hilarious.

When Marius awkwardly tries to explain that sorry, I’m not interested you in that way, Dom’s eyes are already drifting. There’s a brunette in the corner showing off her cleavage, but she’s giggling with her friends and raiding a party isn’t Dom’s style. Right now, anyways. A guy with a strong face sitting three bar stools away from Marius, exactly Dom’s type, except for the fact that he’s drinking tea. At a pub not a mile away from a military base. That strong face is already only surface level, in Dom’s eyes.

When Marius asks if he’s paying attention, he looks back down at the poor engineer blushing, as if he was putting himself out there.

“No, I wasn’t.” Dom says, kisses Marius on the cheek, and before Marius can retaliate, confidently strides off. Monika comes out of the bathroom and looks at Marius quizzically before he shakes his head.

So, no, Dom’s first journey into Rainbow’s pants didn’t go specifically as planned, but he still tried, didn’t he? And so what if it stung a bit to see Marius blushing at Doc the next day, Dom’s mind had already moved past any thought of the awkward engineer. Surely. And so what if Doc was confused when Marius thanked him profusely for the chocolates, and asked him out. Finally. It was all a part of Dom’s plan.

If he couldn’t do the job, someone else can do it better.

—*—

It’s an agonizing turn of the head to see his savior’s face. Previously, he had just lolled his head back and was happy that someone decided to check if he was alive or not.

Strong jawline. Hard-set eyes. Balaclava obscuring everything else about his face.

“I’m going to adjust you, alright? Tell me if you’re in pain.” It’s a French accent, and oh if luck would have it that Doc was carrying him out of the building. After Chimera and Truth or Consequences, there was the off-chance that it was Lion carrying him out, but Dom doubts that he would make any effort after Dom told him he deserved to get punched by Thatcher. And after he told him that he could fuck his sky daddy if he loved him so much.

Finally, the man stops walking, adjusts his hold on Dom, and digs his fingers directly into the wound site. It’s all Dom can do to groan to try to make his savior aware.

He gets the hint, and moves his hand so it’s gripping a bit further up on his thigh.

—*—

Then something happens a year into Rainbow. August 13th, exactly. A day of mourning for Dom, but for those that don’t get the hint, a day to throw presents at him and act like they care.

Some of them do, actually. Smoke gets him an explicit t-shirt he found online with a woman sitting on a man’s face. Elias throws him a gift card and tells him to go buck wild. Marius, surprisingly, gives him an intricate machine made of inter-locking gears that all turn simultaneously. It’s an invitation, though not the same one Dom extended at the bar. It sits on his desk that he never uses, now, and reminds him why he still talks to the engineer endlessly infatuated with the doctor.

First, Rook is comforted by Elias. This sets the springboard for the two men to snap together like magnets, almost worse than the disaster couple in the SAS. They’re awkward, cute, and fawn over each other and it makes Dom want to hurl every time he sees them interact.

Second, Blitz introduces Montagne to him. A man that matches his namesake in how he towers over Bandit, but shocks him with how nice he is. He stands in stark contrast to the bubbly Rook, excruciatingly serious Doc, and analytical Twitch with his niceties.

Gilles, he says his name is. But everyone calls him Monty.

Third, Dom goes drinking. This, in of itself, would be hardly worth mentioning, but drowning in the reminders of his brother, how Cedric could have been here instead of him and Dom would have been just as happy for him, he looses sense of time at some point. His last memory of that night is sizing up a short woman with cropped black hair, and he wakes up in a bed with Monty, clinging to his arm.

So, technically, the something happens one day after, but it’s all the same to Dom.

After staring at the mountain of a man for entirely too long, he begins to wake up. Stretches the arm that’s free, shakes himself out a bit, all before he opens his eyes.

They’re a beautiful icy blue.

“Good morning,” Gilles mumbles.

Dom simply moans. Quietly. Staring at his neck.

Then, it all hits him. His head starts pounding, and he feels like throwing up violently into the nearest receptacle. He turns onto his back and groans openly.

“Here, take this,” Dom glances over and sees two pills extended out. He gingerly picks them up, and is offered a glass of water. He takes it and takes greedy gulps. Gilles chuckles lightly next to him.

“So, uh,” Dom starts, forcing himself to look back at the man, still holding the glass of water and no longer clinging to the other man’s arm. “How was the sex? Because, really, I cannot remember any of it.”

“Dom, we didn’t- I would never-” Gilles begins tripping over himself to explain himself. It’s endearing. Almost. Gilles stops and clears his throat. “I, uh, Elias called me, and asked me to check for you at the bars in the area. He said he checked the three closest to Hereford but had to get back to base. He said that he would’ve called Marius but he wanted to make sure that you came back in one piece. I found you slumped in a bar stool, and I brought you back to base, but you-uh, didn’t have your key readily accessible. So, here we are.”

“So here we are.” It’s a story that makes sense. He hasn’t been able to pick anyone up since his days in Hell’s Angels, when he shaved his head and looked more intimidating than attractive. But, there is one question.

“So why the hell am I wrapped around your arm?”

“You wouldn’t let go of me last night, I was going to sleep in the living room but you’ve got a surprisingly strong grip when drunk, you know?”

“So I’ve been told.”

—*—

The blinding light of the sun forces Dom to close his eyes, and when he’s roughly laid down onto a stretcher that he realizes, yes, he survived that ordeal, and no, he didn’t lay on the floor for a period of time after getting shot in nearly the same spot.

It’s hard, but he turns his head towards the man who saved him and sees the massive riot shield that could only belong to one man.

—*—

Nothing changes. Monty is the highest form of the good – the perfect person to fall in love with.

So Dom doesn’t. It’s easy, he was in denial about who he really was for seven years, what’s a flight of fancy.

Except he keeps happening.

The two go out drinking. Dom, for the first time, goes a month without blacking out. Then two. Then he stops keeping count. As Elias becomes more and more infatuated with Rook, surprising even himself with how much he could dote on another man, Monty becomes a permanent figure in Dom’s life.

It’s disorienting. And almost unwelcome if he wasn’t so… Monty. Stable, kind, awkwardly funny Monty.

Then he mentions an ex-wife, and everything is almostperfect. Why get your hopes up when they have no chance of being interested in you? After all, Monty has never expressed interest in anyone, no man nor woman, so the most logical solution is that he’s straight and retired from dating.

Then, of course, Dom ends up in Monty’s lap desperately making out with him. Or bouncing on his cock. Or mouth filled with that same, succulent-

And he always wakes up in a slightly cold sweat, slightly panicked, feeling just slightly off. He can’t even look at any of the other people at the bar without thinking but what if? And, really, it’s too hopeful for Dom’s liking.

When he brings it up to Smoke, the other man’s cheeks are flushed from an interaction with Mute. It’s the only time that he seems to have for Dom anymore, but he doesn’t mind, not with a mountain of a man slowly wedging his way into his life as a permanent figure. Just ask him, mate he said. Worst he can say is no, but he’s wrong. It could be somuch worse.

—*—

What happens in the next few minutes is a solid blur for Dom. He sees Doc’s face, eyes full of judgement as if it was his fault he got shot through a wall. Stares at Monty’s back as he debriefs Ash on the situation, who writes it down diligently. Feels a piercing pain in his thigh as the bullet is taken out, and he finally, finally, slips into the unconscious world.

—*—

He doesn’t ask Monty for anything. It’d be too rude, to ask the man who graces him with his presence for more than that. He basks in the man like a cat in the sun, and when they get drunk enough to crave physical contact, Dom files those memories away for lonely nights. Never reaching what Dom would deem perfect, but who can claim to have that, anyways?

Time passes. He finds out that before everything, Monty was considering going to a music school for the cello, and Dom can’t help but chortle imagining the trained killer sitting on a stage, brow furrowed in concentration as he plays. Monty delves deep enough into Bandit’s past to find the trauma, and they spend a night in Dom’s room, the owner crying into the other’s arms.

File, file, file.

It’s years later, with their relationship built on respect and genuinely enjoying each other’s friendship that Flores is recommended to the new Six, Harry, that Bandit takes a good look at his life. Desperately clinging onto a crush that could have otherwise been easy enough to push underneath a pillow and suffocate, should he have chosen to cut off all contact.

He thinks about Goyo and Blackbeard, whispering with smiles on their faces, then fighting five minutes later. Kapkan and Glaz always carpooling. Elias and Rook considering getting a bigger apartment.

It’s so fucking unfair. But fair isn’t what Dom asked for, did he?

Flores waltzes into Rainbow, and smiles when he talks about his husband. How if Rainbow proved stable enough, he’d fly him out to live in Hereford. Picture perfect, the essence of stability.

So Dom makes a move. Sees his surroundings, and refuses to remain, what he sees, as an outlier.

—*—

When Dom wakes up, he’s in the nearest hospital. The clinical white lighting blinds him for a second, but when he comes to his senses, he takes a look around his room.

It’s perfectly clean, no flowers, personal items, or anything, really. The clothes he wore on the mission sit in a neat pile in one of the two chairs, and in the other sits the mountain of a man who Dom has come to rely upon. Sleeping peacefully, his head lolled forward. He’s too perfect to disturb.

Luckily, staring at Monty seems to have done enough to disturb him, and he begins his long process of waking up that, so far, Dom has only seen once. The scrunch of the shoulders, raising of the elbows, big sigh, all before he opens crystal blue eyes.

What beauty, wasted on Dom.

“Hey,” Dom says, voice gravelly. He would cough but he worries Monty would see him as sick or weakand he worries about Monty worrying.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” And there it is, the slight smile, just a bit slighter since last time he saw it.

“Should I ask about the sex or is that too far?” And, yes, there it is, the killer smile that could make Dom faint again.

“It was alright, would’ve been better if you weren’t bleeding out, but,” he reaches a hand out to Dom’s face and strokes his thumb over the cheekbone. It’s so comforting that Dom has trouble breathing for a second. “I was thinking, though.”

“That’s never good.”

“No, you’re right, it’s not.” He takes the comforting warmth away and grabs a hold of Dom’s hand. “But I think, once you get out, we should talk. Does Augusta’s sound good?”

And Dom flashes back.

Do you think we could go somewhere different? He asked.

Somewhere different how?

Augusta’s has great food, even Maestro approves of her cooking.

Are you asking me out?

And Dom shuts the fuck up and shakes his head.

“Augusta’s sounds perfect.” And Dom can’t stop smiling.

Maybe, just maybe, Monty wasn’t lying on the battlefield. It could, just maybe, be alright.

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