"The British are coming." One of the soldiers said to Crowley as he'd passed him up in the public mess hall. Los Alamos really wasn't the greatest place in the world, but the Scottish physicist had worked his arse off to get to where he was and he was only there thanks to Frank Winter, the head of the project he was working on. Usually he passed up these morons, none of them had enough brainpower to even entertain him for ten seconds, but with the recent problems regarding the mathematics for the Gadget, Crowley was on edge and everything tested his patience. He turned and glared at the man, noticing his green eyes and how they shone through the grey of their uniforms so well, before he spoke up.

"I'm bloody Scottish, you ignorant prat." He managed to hiss out at the man, who began to turn slightly red at the reaction he'd gotten out of the physicist. Without another word, Crowley took the tray and dropped it off in the window for the dish washers to take. He was tired of people like that and besides, lunch time was over.

The Scotsman knew that he should've just had lunch at the office. Stick with Paul Crosley, who was constantly on his ass about having similar names. Crowley was just a nickname, though. His actual name was Fergus Macleod, he just hated his first name. At least he could talk about decent European things, well, that was when Paul wasn't talking about Helen.

"Oi, Fergs." The Englishman said the moment Crowley had sat down at his own desk, though that was short lived as he glanced up to his chalkboard and noticed a mistake. Hopefully that was the one mistake he'd been working on all week. "Don't talk to me, I'm thinking." Crowley said quickly to Paul as he scribbled across the board, plugging in numbers to their proper spots.

He didn't even notice that Paul had come up behind him, standing with his arms crossed and his brow furrowed as he watched Crowley's hand move. "The soldiers rile you up again, mate?" He asked only to see Crowley shrug. "Of course. I swear you go there to have them get you in an off mood."

No. No, that wasn't why Crowley went. However, he couldn't just come out and say that he went there because he liked to sneak a peek of the muscle in Los Alamos. Being a 'Confirmed' Bachelor, well, that wasn't really the bee's knees. "I go in there to eat." Crowley said as he sat the chalk down and turned back around to Paul. "Really, Crosley, why would I want them to irritate me?"

Their conversation was short lived, however, due to the fact that Dr. Winter had appeared in the office, narrowing his eyes at Crowley's chalk board, obviously noticing the change. "Figured it out, MacLeod?" He asked, though he hadn't stayed long enough for Crowley to tell him his changes. Frank had rushed out of the main office and into his own to work on his own things.

"No, but the blast zone is so high that there'd be nothing living for miles. So, there's that." Crowley argued, his voice rough as his ochre eyes glanced down to the dark haired scientist who bounced along beside him. She wasn't his cuppa, really, but she was pretty enough. Though she did belong to Crosley, and Crowley belonged to the manly side of things.

"Yeah, but if the math was tweaked just a bit, then there could be a larger or smaller radius." Helen countered in a matter of fact tone, grinning up to Crowley. "And you have the potential to do that."

"Yeah, when Frank isn't pushing me to do this bit of implosion. You know that I'm up against Issacs."

"And you're better than Issacs."

"Oh, I know."

The duo's conversation had come to a quick close as they approached the checkpoint to get into the living area. The checkpoint was there for obvious reasons. There didn't need to be any espionage happening or sharing the work with the Little Boy crew, considering they were working on the same thing, only they had more grants, things to work with, and people believing in them.

"Hey." The voice behind Crowley was rough, nicely gravelly, and it nearly made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end at how wonderful it sounded. Though, it sounded familiar, and that's when the physicist turned around to see the green eyed man from earlier. Fuck. This wasn't good, not since the other man was considerably larger than he was. Taller. His body muscular whereas Crowley was shorter than him at 5'10 and he was also a bit stocky.

Crowley automatically handed out his bag, knowing that it was the soldiers who searched their things for items that weren't allowed into the living area. It was odd when the soldier had shaken his head and nodded to the side so they could speak away from the line. Helen looked over, her brow furrowed as she began to worry about her friend's wellbeing, though she knew that Crowley was a big boy, he could help himself if he needed to. He glanced back to Helen and nodded towards the checkpoint. He'd be there when he could, though he was certain she had other things to tend to, so he decided he'd just see her tomorrow at work.

It was odd to be following a soldier to the side, especially one who looked that good in that outfit. 'No, Crowley, stop.' He scolded himself for even thinking that way. There was a certain shame to having homosexual tendencies. However, Crowley couldn't help that he felt so good when being bad, and a small smirk had appeared on his lips which disappeared only moments after the soldier had paused and began to turn around.

"Look, I feel bad for what I said earlier." The soldier said, deciding he wasn't going to pussyfoot around the fact he had said something that was potentially harmful. He said it, even if the guys at the table were pushing him to do it, and now he felt like what he had done was wrong and it was eating away at his insides. Hell, he didn't even know the man.

"It's quite all right, you Americans can barely tell the difference in accents." Crowley spat out, a bit more hostile than he should've done. The shorter man let out a soft sigh and took a step back. "It is all right though." He repeated, looking away from the soldier.

"Winchester." The soldier said, extending his hand. "Dean."

Crowley looked over to Dean's hand before reaching out and taking it, giving him a firm handshake while nodding. That was manly enough, correct? He nearly laughed at his own thoughts, he was, in fact, a man and he was, in fact, manly enough for nearly anything. Or so Crowley liked to think that. "Dr. Fergus MacLeod." He introduced himself before taking back his hand. "However, Crowley is what I prefer to go by." He hoped Dean wouldn't ask him why, because Crowley certainly wasn't up to explaining why he liked to be called Crowley.

The New Mexico air was dry and there was always a soft bite of cold on the wind when night began to fall. It was much different than Scotland, or even England, which Crowley lived for a while. However, at that very moment, the Scotsman had to say that the gentle blowing of the wind had enveloped him as he turned his eyes up to Dean's green ones. This man was too handsome for his own good, he was speaking, and Crowley was zoned out, dazed, and couldn't move his eyes from Dean's.

"Are you all right?" Dean asked, a small hint of concern in his voice. "Hey. Snap out of it, man." He said, snapping and stepping back from the man before flashing a grin at him when he noticed. "You should probably run along and get some rest. Being a doctor must be hard work."

Crowley wasn't about to argue that point. It didn't matter what sort of doctor he was, it was a rather tiresome career. "Thank you for apologizing, and it was nice to meet you." He said before turning and walking back over to the checkpoint, swiftly getting through after the other soldiers had checked his things.