#Irish Tempers And Whiskey Smiles || Andrew and Luka

[whosxafraid]

Meme:  Uncomfortable Headcanons Status: Open URL: @tarnishedhalo​

The party wound down half an hour ago. Luka sticking around to help with the clean up. Fold up a few extra chairs and tables. Helped with dishes and putting away what was left of the food. A good portion with his name on it because Beth was utterly convinced his fridge across the street was as barren as salt sea. He hadn’t argued. Mostly because she wasn’t wrong. But not for lack of not knowing how to food.

            “No...”

It’s not harsh but it’s not entirely friendly neither. He always feels like he’s being sized up by the PJ. Always feels like every area of his life is being scrutinized. And he knows this just has to be another test question in the long unending line of so very very many. 

        “Always been more v’uh listener t’an a player.”

And there’s a double meaning in those words if Riley chose to see them. Green that studies the mouth of the glass in his hand. 

            “Singin’ voice dunna be ta terrible oi’ guess. Wee bit low for most taste d’ough.”

A statement that he leaves with no intention of backing it up. Even if Riley asks. Because if there’s one thing a SEAL had always been it was stage shy. He’d learned that the hard way in grade school. And he still curses that particular casting. Just because he was as tall as a tree even back then, that didn’t mean he had to play one. Especially not one that had a solo number that inevitably had ended with him on his fucking face and flailing because the damn costume’s limbs had gotten tied in knots. 

[whosxafraid]

Quote Insp.

On good days we’re one punch a way from a brawl...but when it counts most we got each other’s back. No one gets left behind. Out there or at home.

[whosxafraid]

Better Men...

Tracked from [x]

One breath it had been all fun and games. Talking craic and laughing at the expense of each other. All of it meant in jest. None of it serious--until it becomes that. Acutely and overwhelmingly so. And later..he won’t apologize for his reaction anymore than he does in the moment. And the moment clicks by in hits and body checks. Tearing Riley’s grip loose of Beth in the wake of a distracting fist to the PJ’s face. Using the disorientation and whiskey in the elder Riley’s veins against him. Driving him back into the other wall by his throat. Dragging him up it just enough to that his feet can’t save him.

Slurs, threats, promises made in a language only they two understand. And it boils his bones how fecking brazen Andrew Riley is. Drunk or not. His sister or not. That was a line not to be crossed. Putting hands on her like that. Putting hands on any woman like that. But for Luka...Beth especially. And the idea of what Riley could have truly intended. It drags something primal up and out of the Irish Seal. And the cock fight level stand off drones on between their rapid heart beats. Riley’s complexion turning dangerous shades. At least until...

                Hey, jus’ remembah…we all friends here, yeah?

it’s like cutting the line on a tension wire, only without the snap back. The red taint to Luka’s vision ebbing by degrees. Enough to realize he was very close to actually murdering a man and--slowly Riley is set back on his feet. Luka’s grip easing only just enough to give the man room to catch a few breathes. BEfore he yanking him forward. Nose to nose.

           “Ye do anyd’ing loi’ke d’at o’again...oi’ll break e’ery bone in ye body.”

A pull back as feet put space between them. Luka tossing the other away across the wall. A breath taken in deep trying to swallow down the need to turn back and beat the other man into the flooring for what he’d done. Because Beth or not...it wasn’t acceptable. And no matter how drunk he’s ever been. No matter how insane and abusive Dani had been...he’d never once laid a hand on her...or any other woman or girl in his life. And honestly? He supposes part of the blame is on him. For thinking Riley were of the same scruples. 

[whosxafraid]

Married life. Us. I FUCKING dare you, Gowl.

Meme: Married Life Meme Status: CLOSED

leaves their dirty clothes on the floor

Adrenaline. Some people call it the super man effect. Mother’s lifting cars off their children. Soldiers taking impossible amounts of damage and not going down until their done. And that’s not too far off from what’s going on now is it? Bullets flying, spitting off walls and near misses off helmets. But that hold he’s got on the other man’s body armor. It’s not going to waiver. So it doesn’t. And eventually House finds them cover. 

And then it’s all a different kind of chaos. Trying to scrounge up make shift bandaging and thank Christ one of the med bags made it. Peej yelling orders. Telling him where to hold and how hard to press. And it’s all hyper awareness. Because he can feel the blood pouring out around the gauze. Feel nails biting through his sleeve because that shit hurts. 

And it’s only later when the fire fight calms because the suns gone down, that he really notices. That they’re all missing some part of their uniform. Because they’d all give it all up, if it meant they all got to come home, breathing.

forgets to run the dish washer

Day three. 

It’s all starting to blur together. They take things in shifts. One sleeps the others are up. Watching the outside. Making sure the other one doesn’t die on them. At least not without anyone knowing. Remnants of MREs sprinkled throughout. None of them have really eaten a full meal since this shit storm started. 

He shifts a bit. Checks that their leading man hasn’t checked out on them. He’s good. Breathing. Half Pint says Boss will make it. If they can get out of this hell hole. 

Banks relieves him. And he’s up again. Moving through their make shift fox hole. Nudging the Peej with his foot to get up. It’s Luka’s turn for some shut eye.

        I could destroy a burger right now, you feeling me?

          “Aye.”

A pause because there’s a part of him that’s afraid they won’t ever be able to argue again about the proper way to grill one. But he keeps that to himself. A half cocked smile as he pulls his helmet down a bit to try and block out the sun.

          “Ta triple decker from B n’ B minute we ge’ back.”

pumps gas for the car

          I got us a way out but s’insane, G. 

And he listens to the pitch House tosses Gorilla, from his point by the window. There’s a humvee with a bed, that looks intact about three klicks out. No motion since sun down. It’s risky as shit. Stupid to even attempt it. But they arent’ going to get evac’d sitting here like ducks in a barrel that’s quickly losing its ability to stay upright. 

              House that’s fuckin’ worse than insa—

       “Oi’ll go.”

The stagnate air in the room gets heavier by degrees. 

             O’Ri–

        “Oi’ can make i’. House up top coverin’ me. Oi’can make i’.”

              Not without me, fucktard. It’s three clicks out and you’ll need someone carrying your ass back, so I’m going to

A brief glance at the other Irishman. He’s not wrong. What with the fact of who he spends most his down time with, that wee fucker with magic fingers when it comes to making things work that don’t have the mind. Some of that’s worn off, Luka’s seen it in action. And there’s another few beats of silence but eventually..

Damnit. Fine go. House take Banks. You two cover these idiots.

Roger that.

drives when they’re going somewhere

Chaos. It’s what he was trained for. What they all were. And it’s damn clock work in the middle of a war zone that might just be worse than Uganda. And they don’t talk about Uganda. 

            South!

            “RIGH’ ER LEF’ OI’ NO GO’ TOI’ME TA BE CHE—”

           RIGHT!

And there’s a turn that’s almost too sharp for the Humvee to handle. He can feel it start to tilt up on one side–but just when he thinks its going to clear the point of no return it levels back out again. And they speed away down the dirt road. Gun fire pinging in a symphony of clinks and clanks. That’s answered because Banks never does know when to quit. And it’s minutes before House dares…

          We good?

A choir of tired yeses. But they’re alive. And so is their downed team leader. But more than anything? That heavy hand on his shoulder that’s squeezes with all it’s might for a few solid seconds, feels good. At least until it pulls away to come back as a fist.

          Next time, I’m driving, fucker.

rearranges the furniture

It’s amazing how quick the stench can set in. The way it gets into your clothes. Into your skin. Until you nearly scrub your skin off later, and you could swear it’s still there. But right now—right now they’ve got to find what they’re looking for. No one gets left behind. 

           Needle in hay stack.

For once he doesn’t make a come back. Just keeps searching faces. One right after the other. Body after body. And there’s a twisting in his gut with each one. Wanting it to be over and yet hoping House isn’t here at all. Because if he isn’t here…

Ping!

           Contact ten o’clock!

They split behind opposite pillars. Silent communication on how they’re going to get out of this one. Not that they ever get the chance because there’s laughter that sounds more like relief than amusement.

You assholes need to keep a better eye on your sixes.

And there the little fucker is. Jumping down from a hole in the roof. Gesturing towards the enemy that had been hiding among the dead.

Like he said. They don’t talk about Uganda.

falls asleep with the TV on

What does he do when it’s two hundred hours, at the bottom of the pacific and he can’t sleep? He watches videos he’s hoarded on his phone that’s what. Earbuds stuck firmly in. Trying to keep the amusement to himself, as she dances into the camera frame for the billionth time. Looking like a wee fair folk, twirling around his little brother that bless him as no rhythm at all.

But before he knows it…it’s three hundred hours, and he’s drifted off to sleep. Listening to her ramble about work, and the mouse Houdini caught in the kitchen. And it’s all just as well. Because it allows for someone else to pick it up. Slide the ear buds away that have fallen loose. And he’ll never know how his phone ended up back where it should be. He’ll never know the message from home meant for him, made someone else feel not quite so lonely. 

But what he doesn’t know what hurt him. At least not until later, when the teasing starts because his mother had sent over a box of old things. And Beth had spotted the sock donkey. And of course had to wonder allowed what his name was.

gets to use the bathroom first

Thirty-one hours awake and counting. That concrete slab of a cot is going to feel like goose down by the time he gets to it. But for now he lets the scalding water run. Washing off…well everything. Hands flat against the tile. Lets his mind slip elsewhere. Pretends for just a minute there’s humming in the next room that he can just make out of the water flow. Pretends he can smell coconuts and cinnamon. Pretends there’s a cat trying to get to his jeans from underneath the door. Pretends a lot of things. Until–

The door on the showers bangs open, and shatters it all. Riley saddling up a few shower heads away. And there’s only a minimal change to his otherwise blank expression before he’s speaking up. Never once moving in the process.

“Next one down less ye wanna be foi’ghtin’ wi’d water pressure.”

A pause but the Peej moves up one, because there’s no real trust outside of uniform with them. Predictable really. And Luka shuts off the water. Towels off. Makes a kilt out of it and shuffles off towards the lockers without a word. Though the satisfying yell and subsquent cursing is only just so satisfying.

He owes House a fifty but it was worth it; because nothing beats an ice cold mountain dew shower to round of your thirty-two hour day.

decides the temperature for the ac/heater

As conditioned as he is…he can’t say he likes the cold. It’s a case of being able to put up with it, verses enjoying it. So maybe he feels just a little bit sorry for the Peej turned SEAL when they end up catching a beat on a whale. Feels a little sympathy for the added layer the other dons during down time. Not that he’ll say anything. Because that just wasn’t what you did.

Though when one of the heaters starts fritzing mid-cruise, sure he tosses over a few pointers. A few try this, because they last thing they need is their medic ending up in the medbay because his fingers froze stiff. Plus he doesn’t really want to listen to the sermon he’ll get when he gets home. Not that he’d blame her for it. Because he wouldn’t. 

sets up holiday decorations

Date: December 24th.Location: ClassifiedDesignation: U.S.S. -redacted-

The off tune someone just shoot him already singing of House in the corner. It’s the only thing breaking the otherwise silence of the room. The TV’s been off for hours. The gaming system dead in the water. Everyone distracting themselves with whatever else they can find. 

Because they all love their job. Can’t dream of doing anything different and yet right then not a single one wants to be where they are. All of them thinking about snow and trees covered in lights and twenty years with of memories give or take a decade in some cases. Thinking about the Christmas dinners they’re going to miss, and the night caps they are right now. And maybe for a minute having to remind themselves they signed up for this. That its worth it in the end. And there’s always next Christmas.

But then suddenly—

        ON THE FIRST DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO MEE-EE-EE

A symphony of on key, perfectly timed responses: SHUT THE FUCKING HELL UP, HOUSE!

leaves the lights on

Actual quiet in the bunks. Everyone’s turned in. No sense in staying up. They’re running dark right now, so phones calls are a no go. And he lays there. Listening to House’s stuffy nosed snoring. Watching the little tree none of them even know where he got it, turn from red to green to gold to white and back again. And it’s almost soothing. Almost has him on the verge of drifting off when–

A shadow gets up from their bed across the room. Shuffles over. Reaches for it. And he’s throwing a hand out. Catching Riley by the wrist. A single shake of his head before pushing the other’s hand away.

          “Leave i’. Helps him sleep.”

There’s under toned griping he can’t make out, but the Peej leaves it be. Goes back to bed and almost begrudgingly turns over to face away from the blinking tree. Luka won’t call him on it. It makes him miss home more, too. Miss her, more. But there are just somethings you take for the team. And this one? He’ll take for House.

uses the bathroom with the door open

There are things that have to be held when you’re squished together like sardines in a can, in the back of a troop truck. Things that have to be willed through on account of pissing on your buddy’s boot, while considered talent at this angle, just isn’t worth the risk of getting it elsewhere too. So you hold it. Scrunch your toes inside your own boots and say seven hail mary’s in advance for the slew of relief cursing you’re going to be doing in a half hour.

And once you do manage to reach camp? It’s a bustle of fucking movement. You never make it to the head. And next thing you know your half way up a god forsaken mountain in bumble fuck egypt when you literally can’t fucking can anymore. And you’re practically skipping off for the biggest tree you can find to let it all go.

You’ll never live it down. You know that. But this isn’t California or bust. And they can wait the few seconds it takes to water the locals and get back on track.

           Tol’ ye no’ ta—

          “Shut up, fucktard.”

fixes the plumbing (or calls the plumber)

        “Oi’m tellin’ ye, ye go’ ta pu’ t—”

            You wanna come down here and do this? No? Then stop speaking.

They’ve been at it for an hour and a half now. It can’t be this complicated to fix a leak. Well it can but neither of them exactly went to vocational school to spend their days underneath sinks.

       “Chroi’st arse jus’ call ye boyfriend.”

            No.

It’s pride. He gets it. But still it’s ridiculous. And he’s this close to calling the wee lad himself when–there’s a dull ping and a thud and—

           TURN OFF THE FUCKIN’ WATER!! TURN IT OFF!

A short lived scurry to do just that. Though by the time he’s managed it there’s already a good sized puddle of water all over the kitchen floor and Riley coming out of the cabinet. Soaked down his front and angrier than a can of bees shaken.

            Hand me my phone.

[whosxafraid]

{Seal} 2, 4, 32, 33

Meme: Character SolidifyingStatus: OPEN

2. Their mother? How do they think of her? What do they hate? Love? What influence - literal or imagined - did the mother have?

               “Me ma….be o’strong bu’ sof’ woman. Unda’standin’ but stiff when she needed ta be. Leas’ d’ats how oi’remember her bein’ when oi’ were o’choi’ld. Go’ older n’…suppose she be teachin’ me d’damage o’secret d’shouldna o’been comin’ ta loi’ght can do….” -a throat is cleared- “She taugh’ me o’lo’ o’bou’ loi’fe……ways maybe she dinna mean ta….bu’ o’lo’.”

4. What type of discipline was your character subjected to at home? Strict? Lenient?

             “Be brough’ up ta be respectin’ our elders. Do as were tol’ when we be tol’ ta. Bu’ always made ta believe we could ask any’din’. D’at d’bes’ way o’learnin’ were d’rough experience…boi’y askin’ k’estions. En’ o’ d’day d’ere weren’t o’doub’ in any o’our moi’nds we were all loved d’same…leas’ no until i’all fell o’par’. In me case leas’woi’se.”

32. How does your character react to stress situations? Defensively? Aggressively? Evasively?

              “Bein’ o’SEAL. We be taught ta keep our heads. Stay calm n’d’ink clear. No matter wha’ be d’rown in fron’ o’us or wha’ wrench be tossed inta plans. Be o’skill oi’ had ta re-learn oi’ be admittin’ d’at. Bu’ oi’di’ an’…..suppose d’ere no be o’terrible lot wha’ can be shaken me loose o’i’ now. Bu’ suppose d’ere also always be ta’morrow aye?”

33. Do they drink? Take drugs? What about their health?

            “Aye…down toi’me, oi’ be partakin’ in me share o’ liquor an’ brews. Picked uh’ o’bi’ o’a bad habit o’smokin’ after BUDs. Suppose be o’shoi’in’ o’xample o’d’at sayin’ dunna e’er start. Bu’ guess i’no be o’bad o’nough d’ing ta make me staw’ nei’der. Sometoi’mes ye jus’ nee’ o’wee bi’ more ta settle e’ery’din’ ye know? Fit fer feckin’ duty so suppose oi’ no be keelin’ o’er anytoi’me soon from ta much grease n’honey.”

[whosxafraid]

"So. Is the rumour true? You can actually bend in half and suck your own cock?"

Meme:  i couldn’t figure out which meme this was forStatus: Open    

         “…dunna know….”

            “Gi’me ye empty an le’s foi’nd ou’.”

[whosxafraid]

“It’s only a scratch, asshole!”

Meme:   Torture my character sentence meme Status: Open

In eventual hindsight he might think he’s currently over reacting, but at the moment….at the moment. He’s stalking off. Beeling it for Banks’ truck. Ducking to try and use the side mirror to check, but foregoing it a minute later and throwing the door open. Yanking the visor down and flipping open the mirror. 

Son o’a—

It’s not that he’s vain. No he just has a thing about his face. He likes it kept intact. He likes it whole and clear of disruptions. Maybe not the greatest pet peeve to have given his profession but sue him. And that’s not even the point right now. 

What is the point?

Riley did it on purpose. He’s fucking sure of it. The whole open field to fly that model plane of Creek’s around in and the tool manages to “accidentally” dive bomb the unsuspecting Irishmen. Clipping him across the cheek with the edge of one of the wings. Feigning surprise and mocked concern, following along behind him.

                It’s only a scratch, asshole!

And before Luka really knows it, the truck door’s been slammed shut. He’s spinning around and—

             “Feck ye. Ba mhaith leat a bhuail dom? Buail mé cearnach. Ach níl sé ag athrú ach a bhfuil do leaba ag teacht chun críche níos déanaí.”

[whosxafraid]

/anonymous Have your nipples in fact cut glass?

             “…..”

               “House?”

               “Siberia. Two thousand eight…we get into this drinking contest. Creek bets the Leprechaun can’t do it, he says he can….come to think of it did you ever pay up Creek?”

              “Shut up, House.”

         -satisfied chuckle-

[whosxafraid]

Hey. Gowl. Make yourself useful an' grab us a couple beers out the fridge, yeah? Wings are getting cold and the game's about to start. If we wait for House, we'll all die of starvation.

Meme: the muse has an ego boost for [6] asks. Status: 1/6

A snort. Sharp though it doesn’t really carry. Grabbing…all of one beer. The cap twisted off as he sits down, taking a healthy swig of it. Not even sure whose playing because he’d honestly fallen out of turn with sports given his usual schedule. Then again he’d never really been into them to begin with. And it’s a handful of moments before grass meets moss and—

          “Help ye?”

Another drink of beer taken, though almost painfully slow this time.

[whosxafraid]

"Jail can’t stop me.”

Meme: error 404 not foundStatus: Open

      “Maybe no’ permanently…bu’ i’be o’moi’gh’y effective delay tactic.”

             “Now shu’ ye hole. Oi’be likin’ o’wee bi’ o’sleep fer d’ey be lettin’ us loose inta mornin’, ye shoi’te.”