Beach Head pulled his mask off and rubbed at his face. He was tired after nineteen hours of PT. He ached in places he should not, making him realize he was getting too old to push troops through such rigorous training. But... He loved his job. He had the satisfaction that every time one of the troops he trained did something right, well' he was partly responsible. In ways, that was vain, more so than he liked to admit.
He sighed and made his way to his quarters. He needed a nice, long, hot shower and an even longer nap. Anyone between him and his quarters could tell by the look on his face alone to get out of his way and not bother him, for any reason. Unbeknownst to him, however, he was being followed. His long day of PT had been observed, and cursed. Beach Head should know better than to run himself so hard.
Making it to his quarters, he starting getting out of his clothes as soon as the door closed behind him. Usually he would not leave them anywhere but in his hamper, but he was too tired to care at the time. Leaving his clothes forgotten, he made his way to his shower. He had to get the grime off, and the hot water would soothe his tired muscles. He turned the water to just under scalding and climbed in. He was still oblivious to the person following him, even though the person was in his quarters. He was just too sore and tired.
He was lathering on a thick layer of soap when he realized he was not alone. He not only felt a body behind him, but there were four hands on his body instead of two. Stiffening at first, his tired mind took time to register who was behind him. Then, as the strong hands mapped out familiar paths and familiar lips latched onto his neck, he knew just who it was behind him.
Beach Head turned in those strong hands to face his partner. No words were needed so none were said. The two washed and dried one another, then Beach Head was pulled to his bed and given a massage. Strong experienced hands kneaded away the soreness. Under those hands he fell asleep like he had many times before. And, like so many other times before, he woke wrapped in strong arms.
When morning came, Beach Head woke in those loving arms. His mind forgot about PT, Cobra, G.I. Joe, and everything else on the other side of his door. He thought only of the arms around him. The kiss to his temple tickled and made him shiver. A chuckle sounded from beside his ear. "If only those greenshirts knew hot to make you turn to mush." The voice was devilish.
"You go tellin' 'em an' Polly gets stuffed." He looked over his shoulder with a promising smirk.
"He may be a pest but he's got his uses. Go messin' with Polly and Sgt. Snuffles gets it." He smirked back.
"Don't need Sgt. Snuffles when I have CPO Snuggles right here." He grinned.
After a pained groaned came the response, "Damn, Wayne, that was corny."
"Been around you way too long, Hector." He smiled at him, eyes dancing. Only Hector got to see him like this.
"And you love it," Hector answered smugly.
"And you." He kissed him. "Even if ya are the biggest pain in the ass I've ever met."
"But I'm your pain in the ass, and only you get to discipline me." He bounced his brows suggestively.
Beach Head laughed and kissed him again. "Damn straight."
Shipwreck grinned. "Love you, too, by the way. Even if you are a stubborn son of a bitch."
Beach Head grinned. "But I'm yer stubborn son of a bitch."