The soldiers left again and Knight set off to work, turning up the volume of the radio and whistling along the tune as he picked up a screwdriver and squinted at the jammed trigger. While his fingers worked, his mind strayed a little, regretting yet again that Sgt. Fallers was out of his league. Such a fine piece of ass... he suppressed a smile. He’d go batshit if he ever heard that out of his mouth, though. Not that he planned on saying something like it, anyway, to anyone. His personal disposition was the one thing he hadn’t taken into consideration when he had signed up, and it was the one thing giving him trouble now and then.
He remembered well when, shortly after he’d finished his training, two other recruits had been caught making out in a storage shed and god... the mocking and teasing had went on for months, culminating in some really nasty pranks on their expense. Knight didn’t like to dwell on that too much, as one of the lads had tried to eat his gun over the whole affair but was stopped in the nick of time by his OIC. Both of the lads had resigned after the incident and the only good thing coming out of it was that it had taught Knight to keep his personal preference to himself so he could avoid sharing their fate.
As he cleaned the parts of the gun thoroughly to remove the last traces of desert dust that seemed to get into everything he was so lost in concentration that he didn’t notice at once that the door had opened and someone had come in.
When he did, however, he looked up into the face of a man roughly his own age, with dark blonde hair and kind of goatee beard that seemed to be much more of an effort than it was worth to keep while travelling in the desert. But it was neither the blonde, wavy hair that the stranger smoothed back with one hand after removing his wide-brimmed cowboy hat, neither were it his eyes, green and sparkling with life and good humour. It was his voice, deep, rich and smooth and slightly smoky, just like a really good whiskey. He had never heard a voice like that and he had to admit to himself it made his stomach flutter. The stranger, who had gone down into the records as courier for now, had his gear repaired and was out of the door again with a friendly nod, leaving Knight to stare dry-mouthed at his retreating back. Black leather armour should be fucking banned on guys like that one.
The stranger came back the very next day, and with him came really bad news about the Legion and Nipton. Knight only heard it via second-hand rumour, and even as he stood there, wishing feverishly for another look upon that handsome stranger the door opened and in he walked, seemingly unfazed by the atrocities he supposedly had witnessed. When he hailed him in that terrible deep and silky voice again Knight was, for a second, overwhelmed by the wish of having that voice say his name.
My Knight in shiny Armour 1b/??
He remembered well when, shortly after he’d finished his training, two other recruits had been caught making out in a storage shed and god... the mocking and teasing had went on for months, culminating in some really nasty pranks on their expense.
Knight didn’t like to dwell on that too much, as one of the lads had tried to eat his gun over the whole affair but was stopped in the nick of time by his OIC. Both of the lads had resigned after the incident and the only good thing coming out of it was that it had taught Knight to keep his personal preference to himself so he could avoid sharing their fate.
As he cleaned the parts of the gun thoroughly to remove the last traces of desert dust that seemed to get into everything he was so lost in concentration that he didn’t notice at once that the door had opened and someone had come in.
When he did, however, he looked up into the face of a man roughly his own age, with dark blonde hair and kind of goatee beard that seemed to be much more of an effort than it was worth to keep while travelling in the desert.
But it was neither the blonde, wavy hair that the stranger smoothed back with one hand after removing his wide-brimmed cowboy hat, neither were it his eyes, green and sparkling with life and good humour. It was his voice, deep, rich and smooth and slightly smoky, just like a really good whiskey. He had never heard a voice like that and he had to admit to himself it made his stomach flutter.
The stranger, who had gone down into the records as courier for now, had his gear repaired and was out of the door again with a friendly nod, leaving Knight to stare dry-mouthed at his retreating back. Black leather armour should be fucking banned on guys like that one.
The stranger came back the very next day, and with him came really bad news about the Legion and Nipton. Knight only heard it via second-hand rumour, and even as he stood there, wishing feverishly for another look upon that handsome stranger the door opened and in he walked, seemingly unfazed by the atrocities he supposedly had witnessed. When he hailed him in that terrible deep and silky voice again Knight was, for a second, overwhelmed by the wish of having that voice say his name.