A/N: I don't know that I like this piece as much as did when I started it. I do plan to finish it out, if only for the smut near the end, but every time I re-glance at the earlier installments, I kind of grumble and go "ugh, what was I thinking?". Hopefully, though, this is just a slump and I will start to love scribbling this again soon.
Any War but This One
seven: Hobbes deals with Sarah
"Ryan's in the basement," Erica explained when Hobbes came into the kitchen. She had one hip leaned against the counter's edge and one hand braced on the granite top. "Dealing with the soldier," she added when Hobbes didn't say anything.
"Yeah, I figured that." Hobbes opened the fridge, grabbed a beer, then put it back without opening it.
"How's…" Erica trailed. She'd forgotten the girl's name.
"Sarah's fine." Hobbes reached for and replaced the beer again. He closed the fridge before finishing with a false cheery grin, "feisty as ever, in fact."
Erica crossed her arms over her chest in an obnoxiously familiar pose, but the way she cocked her head and pressed her lips into a thin line resembled a disbelieving mother not a stubborn teen. Hobbes didn't care. He could handle Sarah without consulting Erica.
"Sarah's all patched up again." Jack glanced at floor as he came in, then the window over the sink. "She's… uhm… demanding to see you, Hobbes."
"Yeah," he grumbled, "I know." As he trudged up the steps, he wished he'd had that beer.
Wished even harder for it when he opened the door.
Sarah sat at the foot of the bed with her legs crossed, wearing only her jeans, a bra, and the bandaging around her middle. Hobbes didn't even wait for the ultimatum. He picked up Sarah's shirt from where it was folded beside her and forced her head through the collar then tugged the rest of the shirt down to cover her torso, even though she hadn't put her arms through the sleeves.
"You gonna put that the rest of the way on?" he asked.
"Not until – "
"Yeah, that's kinda what I thought, but I wanted to ask nicely once." He picked her up – bound as she was by her shirt, the struggle she put up was laughable – and tossed her over his shoulder.
She tried to kick him in the stomach, and when that didn't work, she swung her leg the other way to hit him in the face. Hobbes tilted his head out of the way and held her feet down with his other arm. "You sonuvab – " In her thrashing she smacked her head on the wall, cutting herself off. "Fuck…" she whined, "Oww."
"Quit it. You're going to hurt yourself."
Sarah glared at the small of his back. "Asshole."
Hobbes dropped Sarah in the driver's seat of her truck. Pouting, she wriggled her arms through the sleeves of her ruined shirt. "Jerk," she mumbled, examining the stretched out fabric.
"Go home, Sarah. Whine about today to Daddy all you want. You'll thank me later." He waited a moment for Sarah to say something, and when she didn't, he shut her car door for her, and walked back to the house.
"Now that that's taken care of," he addressed the rest of team standing in the entry hall, "Why the hell was there a V soldier in my basement?"
