riptide_asylum (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
riptide_asylum) wrote2008-06-21 02:53 pm
riptide_asylum) wrote2008-06-21 02:53 pm
"Two Weeks" (Horizons, 1988)
Title: Two Weeks
Rating: PG
Summary: It's not so much about what Nick does for two weeks a year in the Reserves, it's what he does when he gets back that counts.
Nick drove the Vette faster than usual down Highway 1 towards King Harbor. Two weeks. It had been two full weeks since he'd seen Cody and Murray, the Riptide, the Mimi; everyone and everything he called home. He had to admit that once he got to Fort Bragg it was real easy to get back into the swing of Army life: helicopters, guns, helicopters, exercises, maneuvers. But a single bunk that always seemed too small when he and Cody tried to get any sleep had seemed entirely too large without him. And the forest. He couldn't count the times he'd thought what he could do to his partner up against this tree or on that rock. Damn. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be incomplete. Why was he in the Reserves, again?
---
If Murray's calculations were correct, Nick would be just north of Ventura right about now--adjusting for the natural acceleration rate that being away from Cody would have added to his normal rate of speed. He figured on maybe 90 minutes before he should find someplace else to be. And despite Cody's attempts at reading that paperback, he'd seen Cody look at the clock and adjust his shorts enough times to know the someplace else should take him away for the night, if possible.
They really thought they had him fooled. Ha! Thank goodness for cameras. They really were pretty neat technology.
---
After awhile Cody realized he'd been reading the same page for the past half hour. He knew it was a half hour because he couldn't help looking at the clock and wondering when Nick would make it back. What he didn't know was the first thing about what was on the page in front of him.
---
Two whole weeks. Two weeks. Granted, the S-75 ACAP was a whole lot of helicopter and a helluva lot of fun to fly: twin turboshaft engines, tri-cyclic non-retracting landing gear, composite Kevlar body...body. The curve of Cody's back, the thick muscles of his thighs, his taut stomach....Nick pushed the Vette to 95.
---
He should really get going. It wouldn't hurt to double-check the surveillance system looking over the stateroom. He thought about the solution he'd whipped up to compensate for the gaussian loss necessary to do multi-hour capture on the miniaturized equipment. It really was boss.
---
"Colonel Adams held the gun steady as he looked the assassin squarely in the eye. 'Well son, if you think you can take me down, you just come over here and give it a try.'"
"Colonel Adams held the gun steady as he looked the assassin squarely in the eye. 'Well son...'"
Dammit.
---
Great. A speeding ticket. Just what he needed right now, of all times. Yup, thank you, I'll certainly slow down, officer, thanks for the warning.
Great.
---
Wait a minute. What if he rigged up a motion-sensitive auto-focusing module...
---
"Colonel Adams held the gun steady as he looked the assassin squarely in the eye. 'Well son, if you think you can take me down, you just come over here and give it a try.'"
"Colonel Adams held the gun steady as he looked the assassin squarely in the eye. 'Well son...'"
---
Pier 13, Pier 14, red light...come on....
---
"I didn't know you had an interest in Native American textiles."
"Well, the Pueblo Indians in particular employed some loom technology that was really ahead of its time. Really boss."
"Huh."
"Anyway, I figure Berkeley's far enough away that--I mean, after the lecture I'm planning on meeting up with some colleagues from Livermore--"
"Okay Boz. See you tomorrow."
---
Nick tossed his duffle bag on deck and leaned through the doorway to the salon. "Permission to board?"
"Permission granted." Cody stood up with a grin and crossed the room in three steps.
"Miss me, babe?" Nick asked, throwing his arms around his partner.
"Downstairs, I'll show you just how much."
It was good to be home.
Rating: PG
Summary: It's not so much about what Nick does for two weeks a year in the Reserves, it's what he does when he gets back that counts.
Nick drove the Vette faster than usual down Highway 1 towards King Harbor. Two weeks. It had been two full weeks since he'd seen Cody and Murray, the Riptide, the Mimi; everyone and everything he called home. He had to admit that once he got to Fort Bragg it was real easy to get back into the swing of Army life: helicopters, guns, helicopters, exercises, maneuvers. But a single bunk that always seemed too small when he and Cody tried to get any sleep had seemed entirely too large without him. And the forest. He couldn't count the times he'd thought what he could do to his partner up against this tree or on that rock. Damn. He'd forgotten what it felt like to be incomplete. Why was he in the Reserves, again?
---
If Murray's calculations were correct, Nick would be just north of Ventura right about now--adjusting for the natural acceleration rate that being away from Cody would have added to his normal rate of speed. He figured on maybe 90 minutes before he should find someplace else to be. And despite Cody's attempts at reading that paperback, he'd seen Cody look at the clock and adjust his shorts enough times to know the someplace else should take him away for the night, if possible.
They really thought they had him fooled. Ha! Thank goodness for cameras. They really were pretty neat technology.
---
After awhile Cody realized he'd been reading the same page for the past half hour. He knew it was a half hour because he couldn't help looking at the clock and wondering when Nick would make it back. What he didn't know was the first thing about what was on the page in front of him.
---
Two whole weeks. Two weeks. Granted, the S-75 ACAP was a whole lot of helicopter and a helluva lot of fun to fly: twin turboshaft engines, tri-cyclic non-retracting landing gear, composite Kevlar body...body. The curve of Cody's back, the thick muscles of his thighs, his taut stomach....Nick pushed the Vette to 95.
---
He should really get going. It wouldn't hurt to double-check the surveillance system looking over the stateroom. He thought about the solution he'd whipped up to compensate for the gaussian loss necessary to do multi-hour capture on the miniaturized equipment. It really was boss.
---
"Colonel Adams held the gun steady as he looked the assassin squarely in the eye. 'Well son, if you think you can take me down, you just come over here and give it a try.'"
"Colonel Adams held the gun steady as he looked the assassin squarely in the eye. 'Well son...'"
Dammit.
---
Great. A speeding ticket. Just what he needed right now, of all times. Yup, thank you, I'll certainly slow down, officer, thanks for the warning.
Great.
---
Wait a minute. What if he rigged up a motion-sensitive auto-focusing module...
---
"Colonel Adams held the gun steady as he looked the assassin squarely in the eye. 'Well son, if you think you can take me down, you just come over here and give it a try.'"
"Colonel Adams held the gun steady as he looked the assassin squarely in the eye. 'Well son...'"
---
Pier 13, Pier 14, red light...come on....
---
"I didn't know you had an interest in Native American textiles."
"Well, the Pueblo Indians in particular employed some loom technology that was really ahead of its time. Really boss."
"Huh."
"Anyway, I figure Berkeley's far enough away that--I mean, after the lecture I'm planning on meeting up with some colleagues from Livermore--"
"Okay Boz. See you tomorrow."
---
Nick tossed his duffle bag on deck and leaned through the doorway to the salon. "Permission to board?"
"Permission granted." Cody stood up with a grin and crossed the room in three steps.
"Miss me, babe?" Nick asked, throwing his arms around his partner.
"Downstairs, I'll show you just how much."
It was good to be home.