Pre- 28 weeks Later.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the Ocs.
The names of the songs I post here are just suggested listening, they're the songs I happen to be listening to when I wrote this.
"I'll Be" Edwin McCain
"... and these are my men." Sergeant Doyle's CO said as he approached the group of soldiers. Doyle went to salute the Lieutenant, but stopped short as he saw the woman who stood next him. His breath sped up and he felt as if his heart was going to beat through his chest. His mind was lost, not able to think, to function, or even to tell him to breath. His stomach jumped into his throat, making him want to cry, laugh, and vomit all at the same time.
"Sergent Doyle, are you alright?" His Lieutenant asked him. He blinked rapidly as the blood rushed back into his brain. He stuttered a pitiful, "ye-ye-yes s-s-sir," and a somewhat sloppy salute before regaining a sense of where he was. The woman was looking oddly at him with one eyebrow raised and a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Lieutenant Harris, may I speak with you a moment, sir?" One of the men asked. Harris nodded and squeezed the womans shoulder before walking to his office.
"Are you sure you're alright, Sergent?" The woman asked. Oh shit! He'd been staring and, he felt a trickle on the corner of his mouth, drooling? Oh God! Slight panic settled in and he had to mentally shake himself.
"Yes ma'am. Sorry." He heard laughter from behind him. So much for having each other's backs.
"Sorry for what?" She asked, confused.
"W-w-w-w-" He stuttered, what was he sorry for? Looking at her? Drooling? Falling head over heals for her? "W-w-what I meant was... I mean I... I-I-I," he let out a nervous breath of air. "Hi. I'm Sergent Doyle." Oh God, did he just wave at her? What a spaz. He would have hit himself in the head had it not have probably made things worse.
"Yeah, I was kind of aware of that." She grinned.
"How did you, I mean you-"
"Your patch." She pointed to his chest where 'Doyle' was stitched onto a patch that he had meticulously sewed onto all of his uniforms, and then to the rank sewed onto his sleeve.
"oh, yeah... right." He nervously scratched the back of his neck which had turned red with embarrassment. The barely concealed snorts of laughter from behind him got louder. "I-I... I'll just be going... now." He did the spaztastic little wave again then turned and fled to the group of his laughing comrades."
"What did you do to my Sargent?" He faintly heard over the gales of laughter and the sounds of his friends slapping him on the back.
"I... I have no idea..."