A/N: Post-movie. Sarge/Reaper. A drabble I couldn't get out of my head… Seriously. I totally wrote this at work when no one was looking. XD
Italics indicate a flashback.
Rated T for language and themes
I own nothing! I wish I owned Karl Urban though… maybe the Rock too… so I could put them together. XD
A year had passed since Olduvai, and Sam still had to wake John up during the night. His screams echoed through the house to her room. It was a nightly routine. She'd throw on her bathrobe, run down the hall, wake him up, calm him down, tell him it was just a dream, and then go back to bed.
Needless to say neither of them really got much sleep.
Sam didn't have nightmares like John. She hadn't seen what he had seen.
As John lay in the aftermath of a nightmare, Sarge's face flashed through his mind. Those bioluminescent eyes never failed to make an appearance in his dreams. More often than not, they were his reason for jerking himself awake when he could, panting and stared wide-eyed at the ceiling.
That mission had changed them all, some of them for the worse. He was the only survivor, the only person left who had seen the horrors of Olduvai. He often wondered what kind of men they would be if they had all survived.
The change he had seen in Sarge specifically had been terrifying, even before their fight in the Ark. The man John had known back on Earth had begun to disappear, and was replaced with a stranger.
This stranger masquerading as Sarge was heartless and stone-faced, which would normally have been understandable, given the situation. Sarge had always been pretty serious, and had taken his career even more so. John frowned.
But the longer they had stayed on Olduvai, and the more people they lost, the more Sarge began to take a bad turn.
The warmth John used to see in those chocolate brown eyes faded, giving way to icy cold emptiness. How he had missed those eyes… slowly John's own eyes closed.
He floated back to a time before their last mission; back when they were just the RRTS of the Marines. His heart ached to have those times back.
He missed listening to Duke curse and cheer his way through those old video games he loved so much. He missed watching the Kid do his college course work with that look of severe concentration. Hell, he even missed Goat's religious nonsense and Portman's perverse actions. He heaved a shaky breath.
But most of all, he missed Sarge. God how he missed him. That man had the power to silence an entire stadium of people just by walking onto the field. He had presence. There were times during his earlier days when John had jumped when Sarge had yelled "Reaper" through the barracks; scared shitless would be putting it lightly.
As time wore on, however, he grew used to his CO's brash manner and intimidating attitude, and soon enough Sarge had to call "Reaper" three times, and "John" at least twice before John would roll his eyes and answer with a "Whaddya want Sarge?"
Things had been deceivingly simple back then… at least they were until the 4th of July weekend…
Neither man really remembered what exactly triggered it. They had been sitting outside on the balcony, watching Duke, Destroyer, the Kid, and Mac play football below, while Portman and Goat enjoyed the sun.
John and Sarge had been laughing their asses off when the Kid got sacked by Duke and Destroyer. The poor guy looked so dazed when he finally stood up. They locked eyes and suddenly their laughing stopped. It was like they had hypnotized each other. They stood and retreated into Sarge's room, never breaking eye contact.
Sarge's calloused hand was comfortingly rough as he caressed John's cheek. Their mouths met in a tangle of tongues and fingers twisted in each other's hair; well in John's hair. Sarge was a stickler for military protocol and keep his hair ungodly short.
The room was soon filled with their harsh groans and heavy breathing. John would never forget the contours of Sarge's ridiculously sculpted body. He had the body of a Greek God. John wasn't far behind him as far as strength went, but Sarge had still treated him like he was made of glass that day.
They pushed, they grinded, they bit, they kissed, they moaned, they licked, they caressed, they became one being that day. After they both floated back down from their highs, they laid on Sarge's bed entwined in one another for what felt like an eternity.
They hardly spoke of that day, but things had changed between them. They weren't boyfriends, or lovers, or even friends with benefits. John chuckled to the darkness.
'Fuck buddy' was such a vulgar, childish word, but it was the closest thing to what they had. They fucked if they were angry. They fucked if they were sad. They fucked if they were happy. Hell, they fucked if they were bored.
Point was, they were always there for one another. In truth, the sex was a comfort. They were there to comfort one another. In a career like theirs, comfort was taken where one could get it, and Sarge and John found it in one another. They understood each other in ways no one could hope to understand. They knew each other inside and out, no pun intended.
John was no romantic, and neither was Sarge, but John could have easily seen them staying together after they got out of the service. Again, John wasn't a fan of the term 'life partner', because that would mean he was gay, and he wasn't, but that was what they would be called.
They had actually discussed it once before. They were basking in the afterglow of a round of happy sex after Sarge got promoted.
Sarge had his arm wrapped tightly around John's waist, a smile plastered on his face. John was falling asleep in the warm embrace when something came to mind.
"Asher." He said, using Sarge's real name; something he did only during and after sex. Sarge grunted.
"What will happen after we get out… of the service I mean…" He mused. Sarge shifted and put his head on John's shoulder, looking at him quizzically.
"The same that happens to everybody; we get out, we get thanked for our service, we get put into a civilian lifestyle—"
"No. I meant… what happens to this…"He said softer than before. Sarge paused.
"I guess I never really thought about that…" He said, arching an eyebrow, an action that John loved to death. He smiled and kissed his CO gently.
"Me either 'til just now." He admitted. What Sarge said next surprised him.
"… We could always just… stay together. You know, like roommates." He felt the man shrug.
"Yea?" John said, trying to keep his feelings of hope at bay. He really didn't know what he'd do if he got separated from this man that had done so much for him.
"Yea I don't see why not." Sarge answered, pressing a kiss to John's neck.
"We all know you'd go outta your fuckin' mind without me anyway." John drawled, throwing a smirk over his shoulder at Sarge. He received a wolfish smile in return.
"I'd go outta my mind?" He laughed, rolling John over onto his back and pinning his hands above his head. John grinned at him and craned his neck, putting his lips to the shell of Sarge's ear.
"Yea…" He whispered huskily. Sarge attacked his throat with kisses and bites, making him laugh.
John smiled fondly at the memory. Explaining to the First Sergeant as to why they were late for the evening PT session had been amusing in the least. Taking a deep breath, John allowed his mind to clear as he gave himself up to sleep.
It was best not to dwell on the past.
Sarge was gone… but he would always be in his memories, and John would never, ever forget.
A/N: Written entirely to Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites by Skrillex. It's like my go-to inspiration song. XD Love it to death. Review please!
Sarge's name comes from his name in the DOOM video game.