Authors Note, All righty! I am on my brothers laptop, so I have no spell check. Sorry, I am going to check this but if I miss something, forgive me. I have just had two exams! I am like wound so tight it isn't even funny! So I'm gonna do some writing people. Bear with me people! Oh, and, since this is my brothers computer, there will be no naughty stuff, I'll write that chapter later ;) Enjoy and review!
Sanderson walked through the house, his chest aching. Due to the storm that raged outside the house. It had been three months since he had gotten shot, three months since he had gotten home from the hospital in Germany.
"Diana...it's not in there," he called out, yelling for her as he searched the house for his shoes.
Barefoot, he couldn't go out shooting without his shoes.
The house was somewhat quiet.
Four of the five kids were next door playing in the mudd with Sanderson's kids.
Therefore, Diana had the washing machine, dryer, and dish washer running, while she ironed and watched a movie she hadn't been able to see.
Sanderson walked around the house, "Diana!" He walked in the living room and saw her ironing uniforms. She had given up on ironing the kids clothing. In the playpen infront of the couch was Daniel, teething on a plastic boat.
On the floor were his boots.
Sanderson looked at them, then Diana, he pursed his lips.
She looked up at him. Eyebrow arched, daring him to say something. Sanderson wisely kept his mouth. He instead told her while he looked her over, "I'm gonna be late. I'm going to do some training with the guys."
Diana nodded, "I'll make you a plate...what are you staring at?"
Sanderson couldn't help but feel like he was in high school. He couldn't help but look her over. She was in her saturday best. Jeans, a white button up guys shirt with the sleeves rolled up, socks. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun so pieces hung down.
"Nothing," he declared, making her roll her eyes.
Diana finished ironing the dress shirt and put it on a hanger, as she walked over to the doorway and hung it up on the doorframe. On her way over she playfully smacked him upside the head.
Knocking him toward the sofa.
Muttering, "Perv," as she walked past him.
Sanderson watched her walk over to the door and hang the shirt up, immediatly declaring, "I am not a perv." Under his breath he muttered, "I've seen what you keep in your drawer."
Hanger on the doorframe.
Diana spun, hands on her hips, she stormed over to him and demanded, "And why were you in my underwear drawer?"
Having no good answer, Sanderson looked up in her green eyes, "I'm pleading the fifth."
Again, she belted him upside the head.
Dropping his boots he cried, "Dear God woman! Stop hitting me!" He saw the smile on her face and cocked his eyebrow, "What are you grinning at? You find domestic violence funny?"
Diana shook her head, she ran her hand through his hair, messing it up. "You're so innocent."
He gave her a odd look, "You are the only woman I have ever met that can go from moods within a matter of seconds."
She ran her fingers through his hair again, then shoved him to the side, shoving him onto the couch. Diana walked to the ironing board. Thoroughly amused with how easy Sanderson was to play with. She watched him sit back up and fix the camos he had on. Memories of Hoot came to her mind, what Hoot would have done. Hoot wouldn't have cared about the uniform.
She grabbed a pair of pants and began to iron them.
Sanderson watched her, he watched her as she began to iron. He could see she was thinking about something, a smile came to her face. He knew she was thinking about Hoot.
Over the past three months he had been comparing himself to his late friend. He knew he and Hoot were polar opposites, he knew Diana was a completely different woman from what he used to date. Everything inside him told him it would never work. When he thought about her marriage to Hoot, he wondered how he could make it work. He wondered if they could make it work between them.
But then...he couldn't help but want her.
He glanced at the TV and saw she was watching "Gladiator."
Diana stopped her ironing and watched as Russell Crowe ran around in a skirt, with a sword, in the stadium.
"Good Lord woman, the man is wearing a skirt," Sanderson cried as he tied his boots.
Diana glared at him.
She then told him, "Look Jeff. It has been almost two years since I have any, ok. That is the most skin I have seen since Lambross mooned me. So zip it."
He watched her watch the movie.
Realizing she was just as needy as he was, he got up and walked up behind her, while she leaned on the ironing board.
He scooted up behind her, he slid his hands along her waist. To his amusement she didn't tense or stiffen, instead she leaned back into him. She glanced over her shoulder at him, "Hmmmm?"
Sanderson kissed her cheek, then again, he kissed her ear, "You know...the kids are next door. PLaying in the mud. That means they'll be out there for hours."
Amused, Diana asked, "Sanderson? I didn't take you for a quickie kind of guy."
With his lips still against her ear, his hands traveled down her waist, runnig over her hips. "I'm not. But I can be late, I have senority."
Diana held his blue eyes, she turned around in his hands and laid her hands on his chest. Patting the green/tan/brown/black jacket down. "Sanderson, when was the last time you had sex?"
He thought about it, leaning closer to her, wishing he didn't have so many clothes on, he really wanted to feel her body against his. "Before I left for my first tour."
She nodded, it had been that long for her as well. She held his blue eyes as he told her, "You know the kids know, the base knows, along with the guys. If you wanted you could move into my room, if you wanted."
She looked at him thoughtfully, then she asked, "Seriously?"
With a nod Sanderson told her, "I mean, only if you're ready...if you want."
She moved her hands up and stroked his face. Thinking still, he could see it on her face.
Sanderson kissed her, softly.
His hands stayed on her hips, holding her close to him.
Making him late for the training exercise.