by G Richmond
Story: Chance Encounter
Status: Draft 1
Author: G. Richmond
Warnings: Graphic Sex, alcohol
Feedback levels: UP TO LEVEL 2
Feedback requests: Grammar, story flow, characterisation
Author's notes: I wrote this when completely drunk, so I cant vouch for how fantastic it flows. It has been reread, but I still may have missed some things.
For the 100fics prompt `Beginning'.
Also, my knowledge of the Vietnam War consists of things I have read in A-team fan fiction, so I have tried my best to breeze past any details. If there are any glaring mistakes please tell me, otherwise just try and ignore if anything doesn't quite fit.
They had been given one weeks leave, and man did they need it. It was hard on everyone being constantly alert, constantly on guard, forever wary, and they needed a break to settle themselves, to reset. Still, it was hard in itself to suddenly not have to be on edge every minute of the day, to not have that nag in the back of your head that at any moment gunfire could start and you would have to fight for your life. Kill or be killed.
So it was hardly surprising that, on day three, he would have been shocked if he had spent more than an hour sober since hitting the town.
Templeton Peck, `Faceman' as he was known to practically everyone now, wasn't a big drinker. In fact he preferred to keep his wits about him in case the situation arose in which he could scam someone out of something he wanted. But in this situation it was all too easy to get swept up with the rest of the men, who did want to get drunk and forget all about the war. A number of squadrons had all converged on the small town, so there were lots of old faces to greet, and just as many to avoid.
And the drinks were cheap, and the women even cheaper, so Face had decided just this once to indulge, and not to get himself into trouble by trying to con anyone.
The irony that drinking and whoring was `honest living' for him didn't go over his head.
On the fourth day he woke up at approximately 4pm (after a good 7 hours sleep), showered, grabbed a bite to eat (which he forced down despite his stomach's protests) and headed back to the closest bar.
He had frequented only one bar whilst there, choosing to settle in one rather than spend the week bar-hopping. After all, they all served the same drinks, and in this particular bar the women weren't at all hard on the eye. And he had been flirting with a waitress that he suspected he could get into bed before the week was out.
By 5pm he was already sat a familiar table with a beer in one hand, chatting to familiar men about the same thing they had talked about the day before. People came and went without much attention, and shadows drew long as the sun went down. Most of them had seen more of the night than the day since arriving, but that was what leave was all about; letting go and relaxing, because you knew what you were going back to, and you tried your hardest to forget.
It was just after the lights went on in the bar that a large group of men entered through the swinging saloon doors, raucous and laughing with no concern for anyone they might be disturbing. They weren't wearing uniforms, but Face would have bet his next three drinks that they were pilots. At least, all the pilots he had met had been like that; wild, exuberant, and arrogant. Like they were better than the rest of the grunts.
"Drink and be Merry, men!" A tall stocky man with a large walrus moustache announced to the rest of the men as he had walked in, "For tomorrow it's back to this God-forsaken war!" There were loud cheers from the rest of the `pilots' as they approached the bar and began ordering large rounds of strong drinks.
The men at his table muttered some curses, and for a while the tension in the bar was palpable. The pilots stayed at the bar and pretended like they didn't notice the eyes on them, and the rest of the soldiers contemplated whether it was worth their while starting trouble.
Fortunately, after about thirty minutes things had settled down and everyone relaxed and went back to their drinks. The pilots stayed at the bar, but weren't taking up too much room, so no one complained, and soon enough everyone was laughing and immersed in their own little conversations again.
Eventually Face wasn't able to scam any more drinks from the other men at his table, and he had to get up and get his own. Not that he was annoyed, more amused, since he didn't recall buying any of his own drink for the previous two hours, and he was feeling pleasantly wobbly on his feet. Not bad, considering he had only bought two drinks for himself at the beginning of the night.
He leaned against the bar and tried to catch the bargirl's eye, expression suave and attempting not to look nearly as drunk as his body was telling him he was. He was a little way from the rabble of pilots (they were pilots in his head now, whether they really were or not), and just tried to ignore them. They were talking amongst themselves, and aside from the odd cry of laughter they weren't too disruptive.
The barmaid was taking a while to get to him, and he let out a heavy sigh of frustration, resting his chin on his hand. At first he didn't notice the gaze on him, but it didn't take too long for him to feel the eyes. It was an odd sensation, intense, and before he even peered around he knew someone was watching him. He looked around curiously, not expecting whoever it was to boldly meet his eyes and lock his gaze. But they did, and Face was thrown. It was one of the pilots, and one of the youngest by the look of him (not that Face was exactly a senior officer), and his big brown eyes were observing Face with an unashamed curiosity.
For a moment they both stared at each other, then the pilot seemed to realise that he had been caught. The hesitation passed across his face visibly, and Face found himself hoping he would be embarrassed and look away. But he didn't. Instead he just smiled in a challenging way and lifted his glass in greeting. Face regarded him curiously, not quite knowing what to do. But he had to do something, he couldn't act embarrassed or surprised; that would have been weak and humiliating. So he just lifted his chin in acknowledgement and looked away, trying to be nonchalant.
But his curiosity was peaked. Why had he been staring at him? Face wasn't so nave not to know that when men were surround by so many other men for long periods that they didn't get certain...urges. But the pilot had been so obvious. And there were plenty of women around. Did that mean he looked odd in some way? Was his hair a mess? He had showered before going to the bar, and combed his hair in the mirror so that couldn't be it. Did he have something on his face? Hesitantly he ran his hand down over his cheek, trying to be nonchalant as he attempted to wipe the imaginary dirt away. Why wouldn't his friends have told him? Maybe they were getting a big laugh out of seeing how long it would take him to notice. But the pilot hadn't seemed amused, more like-
He was rescued from his thoughts by a pretty barmaid ready to take his order, and he took the distraction with relief and happily flirted with her as she got his drink and he paid. Still, once he had his drink and rose to go back to his table, his eyes unintentionally sought out the man that had watched him so shamelessly. He was at the edge of the group, and was talking to one of the other men, but he didn't look part of the rabble, and after a few second it seemed like the man he was talking to had got distracted and left him on his own. He didn't look like he was bothered, and just took a drink from his glass and peered around.
Their eyes met and Face paused, blinking and then flushing (much to his horror) to be caught looking. The pilot blinked in surprise before smiling brightly, obviously pleased and amused, the expression lighting his face. He lifted his glass again in greeting before Face hurried back to his table.
Sat at his table, the young pilot was out of eye shot, and Face easily forgot about him with the next few drinks. And he stayed out of his mind until quite a while later. He scammed more drinks, and got more than nicely inebriated, but as it was approaching midnight he had to excuse himself. His head was spinning and the air felt thick and oppressive, and he stumbled his way out of the bar towards what he hoped was the doors.
As soon as the night air hit him he took a deep breath, exhaling with a pleased noise. The air was cool and crisp and settled his foggy head and churning stomach. Still, his eyes were half closed as he meandered further out, trying to find a beam to lean against.
He didn't find a beam, but he did find something to lean against, even if it wasn't entirely on purpose. He hadn't even seen the person until he had crashed into them, and for a moment the other person stumbled and it seemed like they were going to fall. But he somehow kept his feet and supported them both, keeping them on their feet, despite how Face wasn't at all helping matters.
"Uh...sorry." He mumbled, fawning at the person's chest before getting purchase and pushing away. He was too drunk, that was dawning on him, stupidly drunk, and he needed to sit down and get his bearings.
"No problem, Muchacho. But you look like you wanna sit down." The voice was bubbly and amused, but Face could only nod at the statement. A moment later an arm was around his shoulder, and he tried to wave it off, but he allowed himself to be lead, sitting down when he felt something knock against his knees.
"Thanks." He didn't know who was with him, and he was too drunk to care.
"See, that's the problem when you don't buy your own drinks." The same bubbly voice told him, obviously grinning, and whoever it was had taken a seat next to him.
Face muttered something unintelligible as he buried his face in his hands, trying to gather his thoughts. It wasn't that he had never been that drunk, hell, he had been that drunk in his time there, but it was such a waste for the time it took him to sober up. He was useless like that; couldn't think, couldn't walk, couldn't even think of hooking up with a woman. He needed to sober up, and fast.
Fortunately the fresh air helped, and it seemed like he sobered up fairly quickly, although he couldn't say how long it had really been. But the figure stayed beside him, making sure he was okay, and babbling conversationally, although Face couldn't tell what he was saying.
Eventually he managed to look up and turned his head to look at the man behind him, eyes squinting as he tried to focus. "I know you." He mumbled, trying to figure out from where. Then it hit him; the big brown eyes, "Yeah." He added slowly, "You were watching me at the bar." he said surely, slowly sitting back.
"From what I remember, you were watching me right back." The man grinned, and the expression was endearing, attractive, full of life and joy that was hard to come by. By this point, most everyone you saw was tainted and jaded by the war.
"Was not." Face muttered, rubbing at his eyes, "Just curious is all. Weird to have a guy staring." His voice was slurred, but he did his best.
"Not all that weird." The man looked away with a shrug, looking up at the sky.
"Weird enough. What is it, cant get a girl?" He didn't mean to be so blunt, but at that time it seemed like a perfectly acceptable question. Fortunately his companion didn't seem offended and just look back with another challenging expression.
"And what if I cant?" he ventured, eyebrows lifted. As his eyes finally started to focus, Face could see that his companion's cheeks were flushed, and his pupils were dilated. His hair was slightly wilder than it had been a few hours before, and his shirt had been undone a few buttons. In fact he look pretty damn-
Wait. Face shook his head with a frown. He had been thinking that the pilot didn't look half bad for a man, but that was a bad line to go down. There were plenty of women he could go for, even if he had to pay; he wasn't so desperate to go looking for men.
But there was just something about him.
"There's a lot of women here. You're a good looking guy." He flipped a hand, trying to be blas. Sober he would have had no problem. Telling a guy he would have no problem getting a lady was fine when he was sober, it was normal, but after thinking that the pilot wasn't bad looking for a whole different reason...his words came out falteringly.
"You think I'm good looking?" The grin was audible in his voice, and he felt the pilot edge forward, even if it was just teasing.
"Not like that." Face lifted a hand to try and shove him away, but his arm had little strength and he ended up nearly pushing himself over. Would have pushed himself right off the bench too if the pilot had wrapped an arm around his shoulder and pulled him back.
"Not like that?" Face turned his head to look at the pilot with narrowed eyes, noticing how close they were and trying to squirm away. He got annoyed at first when he didn't let him go, before realising that he was right at the edge of the seat and would have fallen off if the man hadn't held on.
"No. Not like that. I like women. And I don't even know your name." He pushed at the pilot again, getting him to slide back up the bench.
"It's Murdock. H.M. Murdock." The pilot held out his hand, and Face took it, embarrassingly missing it a couple times before managing to get his fingers around the other man's hand.
"Call me Face." He told him, holding onto Murdock's hand longer than he should have since he lost track of how long they had been shaking.
"Face?" Murdock put his other hand over Face's so he would stop shaking it.
"Faceman. That's what everyone calls me." He shook his head dismissively, and the pilot nodded.
"Alright, Faceman." He seemed taken with the name, "So...you think I'm attractive?" He insisted, grinning, and Face gave him a hazy, dirty look.
"Not like that. I can get any women I want." He added, as though this was adequate explanation.
"You never been with a guy?" Murdock asked curiously, and Face wrinkled his nose, leaning back a little, forgetting that he still had his fingers wrapped around the pilot's.
"No. Why would I? I'm not gay." He dismissed, "Why, have you?" He tried to look suspiciously at Murdock, but it just looked like he was squinting.
"No. But always been curious, y'know?" He shrugged nonchalantly, "Cant be much different to a girl." He didn't seem bothered by the conversation at all, and Face regarded him with narrowed eyes, trying to find a fault with his logic.
"It's just different. Guys don't get with other guys, that's what girls are for." He told him, trying to move away, but not with too much effort.
"Why? Don't make much sense if you ask me. Makes more sense for guys to be with guys and girls to be with girls, `less you want babies." The pilot said with lifted eyebrows, leaning back against the bench, "And stuff feels good whether it's a girl or guy doing it."
Face let out a somewhat frustrated noise, still trying to find fault. But he couldn't. He had sobered up now, or at least enough to start thinking about finding some woman to make him `feel good,' as the pilot had put it. But still, Murdock had a point; pleasure was pleasure - at the end of the day it didn't really matter if it was a man or woman administering it, it wasn't like anyone spent very long being able to notice.
"See, I'm right." Murdock was grinning victoriously and leaning in, getting in the blond's face. Face gave him a dirty look, standing his ground and daring him to try it. And he did, to Face's surprise, leaning in and crashing their mouths together. At first Face lifted a hand to shove him away with a frown, but the pilot pushed his hand away and slid his other hand into the blond's hair, holding him in until he stopped fighting and slowly, curiously responded to the kiss. It wasn't so different to the girls he had spent drunken nights with; the pilot was a little firmer, less submissive, but it was still a kiss, and it was good. It was hot and instinctual, and before he knew it he had his arms around the pilot's back, pulling him closer and pushing his tongue into his mouth, tasting the beer he had been drinking.
Minutes later they pulled apart breathlessly with darkened eyes and shifting uncomfortably in too-tight pants. Face darted a look around to see if they had been seen, but they were alone in the street thankfully, at he let out a relieved breath. He stumbled to his feet, pulling Murdock up with him by the hand.
"Where are you staying?" He asked, voice low and a little rough. The pilot was a couple inches taller than him, but he didn't let it distract him, fingers hooking in his waistband to pull him closer. Murdock was grinning, arms sliding over the blond's shoulders.
"Just down the street." He answered, letting the blond pull him into another kiss.
"Let's go." Face told him when they broke apart, and the pilot nodded, eagerly leading the way.
It was still relatively early in the night as they stumbled into the boarding house, and they were the only ones there, thankfully. Murdock lead him up the stairs to the room he was sharing with three other men, and they shut the door behind them, just in case anyone came home early. Murdock told him between kisses that a shut door was the universal sign for them not to go in.
The pilot drew him over to the mattress nearest the window and pulled him down, one arm around his neck and the other deftly removing the blond's shirt. Face had lost any reservations about Murdock being a man on his way there, thoroughly won over by intense kisses and coy touches until all his could think about was getting his release. And Murdock was attractive, and obviously willing.
With his shirt pushed off halfway down his arms, Face pulled it off the rest of the way before bearing Murdock down onto the mattress. The pilot's shirt had already been discarded somewhere along the way, and Face ran his hand up over his chest, sliding over his shoulder and behind his neck to pull him into a hard kiss. Murdock let out a small pleased groan that was lost between their mouths as his hand slid around Face's waist, long fingers sliding up over his back.
Murdock's hand was at the blond's pants, undoing the fastenings and pushing them off his hips impatiently. Face had to take a moment to pull off his shoes to get his pants off, and the pilot took the brief break to get his own shoes and pants off before they resettled. The pilot had one arm up around Face's neck, pulling him down so their bodies were flush against each other. Small moans left the both of the them at the friction between their hips, but neither was satisfied with just that.
Still, Face blinked in surprise when something cold was pressed into his hand, and he pulled back to look down at the tube of lubrication the pilot had given him. Even drunk as he was, he looked down at Murdock curiously.
"You sure?" He murmured raggedly, and the pilot nodded surely, even though his eyes told of some hesitation.
"Wouldn't have brought you back if I weren't." He told him, head lifting to the distracting kisses the blond pressed along his jaw, and Face nodded. He knew what to do, even if he had never done it before. It wasn't exactly rocket science.
Murdock tensed a little at the preparation, nose wrinkling in discomfort and head turning away with a few strained breaths as he tried to relax.
"Want me to st-?"
"No." Murdock cut him off before he had even finished the sentence, "Keep going." He said surely, looking up at the blond before pulling him down into another heated kiss.
Face continued to prepare him, despite how his own body ached for release, until finally he couldn't take any more. The pilot had relaxed and started to make such noise that he couldn't restrain himself, and Murdock seemed more than eager as he wrapped his arms up around the blond's neck and begged him to stop teasing. That was all the encouragement Face needed.
Murdock tensed again with an uncertain gasp as the blond entered him in one slow movement, fingers tightening on Face's shoulder until it was almost painful, but Face only watched him with concern.
"O-okay?" He asked raggedly. He was worried that he was hurting the pilot, but he had to admit that the pleasure was intense for him. The pilot was so hot and tight, it took all his effort to stay still and make sure he was alright.
Murdock gave a not-so convincing nod, brows drawn together, but he responded to the small kisses the blond gave him, slowly gaining more energy as the discomfort faded until eventually he pulled Face down into a heated kiss. This was all the signal Face needed to start moving, and they pulled apart as low groans escaped them. Already flushed cheeks heated further as they began a steadily quickening rhythm, and Murdock's grip remained tight on the blond's shoulders as his head pressed back into the pillows.
Spasms of pleasure wracked them both as Face reached down to pull up one of the pilot's long legs, the change in angle drawing a shocked, pleasured noise from taller man and his chest rose and fell in panted breaths. The noises they emitted became increasingly desperate as the pressure built and built, reaching a point that made them feel like they would surely go crazy if the crest didn't break, before the whole world stopped, then abruptly shattered and melted around them.
Murdock clung to him tightly with a gasping moan as he hit his peak, cheeks flushing as his back arched and his head pressed back into pillow. Face groaned as he tightened around him and released moments later, forehead resting down against the pilot's shoulder. They both rode out the waves of pleasure with steadily quieting gasps, Murdock finally relaxing as his arms and legs slid boneless from around the blond and Face slowly moved off the pilot onto the mattress next to him.
They both fought to catch their breath, enjoying the afterglow of the orgasm, and Murdock was the first to turn his head, looking at Face.
"Not much difference, huh?" He murmured with a vague grin, reaching vaguely for the cover and slowly managing to drag it up over them.
Face laughed tiredly, blinking slowly and not caring that he was pressed up close to the pilot on his side; all he wanted was to close his eyes and sleep, "Close enough." He admitted, grinning. He obligingly returned the brief kiss the pilot pressed to his lips before settling and quickly drifting off.
It couldn't have been more than a couple hours later that Face woke, and thankfully they were still alone in the room. From the way his head spun as he sat up, he guessed he was still drunk, and this probably helped him not feel so awkward as he looked down at the young pilot lying next to him. Murdock was still asleep, and looked comfortable enough, so Face tried his best not to wake him. Not that he wanted to wake him.
He wasn't exactly embarrassed about what had happened; it had felt damn good after all, and he had topped so it wasn't like it was all that different from sleeping with a woman. But he did realise that had slept with a man, and not even a feminine one; Murdock was a real, masculine man, even if he was on the skinny side, and Face knew he was going to have to face the questions that threw up eventually.
Or not. He could just drink himself silly for the next three days, sleep with lots of women and forget it ever happened.
After all, he reminded himself as he snuck out of the room in only his pants, carrying the rest of his clothes in his arms; it wasn't like he was likely to see the pilot H.M. Murdock ever again.
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