“What now?” Phobos asked quietly, tugging at the sleeve of the Fury’s space suit.
“Now?” The cosmonaut smirked, “now, we participate in the most time honored tradition of the military: we hurry up and wait.”
“Don’t want to wait.” The flame soldier replied, shaking his head. “Want to go back to bed.” He leaned against the commander, laying his head against the Fury’s shoulder and shutting his eyes
The cosmonaut’s dark eyes narrowed and he winced as he evaluated the unwanted affection: Phobos, like a sleepy child snuggling up against its mother on the long train ride home from Leningrad. If it would have been anyone other than Phobos, he would have kicked them. Hard. But if it had been anyone other than Phobos, they wouldn’t have dared to touch him. The little freak had no concept of what was appropriate, he only did what felt right and good, and that was what made him so agreeable to the cosmonaut -- a creature driven by instinct, liberated of societal rules.
“I know, Phoebe.” The Fury said at last, patting the flame soldier’s red hair affectionately, or as affectionate as he was willing to be. “Now please be quiet.”
He received a slight nod of compliance against his shoulder, but didn’t notice.
His attention was on Major Ocelot though, scowling, pacing, cursing. He could only wonder what made Ocelot confess blowing up the greenhouse to the investigators, when it would have been just as easily to blame him for it. That sort of honesty was respectable to the Fury, and he made a mental note to ask Adamska about it later.
no subject
“Now?” The cosmonaut smirked, “now, we participate in the most time honored tradition of the military: we hurry up and wait.”
“Don’t want to wait.” The flame soldier replied, shaking his head. “Want to go back to bed.” He leaned against the commander, laying his head against the Fury’s shoulder and shutting his eyes
The cosmonaut’s dark eyes narrowed and he winced as he evaluated the unwanted affection: Phobos, like a sleepy child snuggling up against its mother on the long train ride home from Leningrad. If it would have been anyone other than Phobos, he would have kicked them. Hard. But if it had been anyone other than Phobos, they wouldn’t have dared to touch him. The little freak had no concept of what was appropriate, he only did what felt right and good, and that was what made him so agreeable to the cosmonaut -- a creature driven by instinct, liberated of societal rules.
“I know, Phoebe.” The Fury said at last, patting the flame soldier’s red hair affectionately, or as affectionate as he was willing to be. “Now please be quiet.”
He received a slight nod of compliance against his shoulder, but didn’t notice.
His attention was on Major Ocelot though, scowling, pacing, cursing. He could only wonder what made Ocelot confess blowing up the greenhouse to the investigators, when it would have been just as easily to blame him for it. That sort of honesty was respectable to the Fury, and he made a mental note to ask Adamska about it later.