Title: The New Order
Warnings: Mild language, smut.
Spoilers: very vague for 3.1
Disclaimer: Not mine. ITV and Impossible Pictures own them.
Word count: approx 900
Summary: Connor decides to give the new boy some advice.
AN: Thanks to fredbassett for the beta. I blame cupidandpsycho for squeeing about the new boy and putting ideas into my head.
The locker room door slammed open. Connor strode in and dumped his stuff on a bench. The door hadn’t even swung closed when he was followed into the room by a tirade of angry complaints, and one rather pissed off looking Special Forces Captain Becker.
“Oh, lighten up, Action Man,” Connor muttered, not entirely under his breath, still trying to ignore the rant.
“Dammit, Connor, how many times do I have to tell you to stay out of the bloody way? I’m supposed to be protecting you people.”
“Yeah, and such a good job you’re doing,” Connor said, finally turning to look at the man. “Today was the third time I’ve had to bail out you or your men since you started.”
Becker visibly rankled at that, and drew himself up to his full height. “Maybe if you bunch of amateurs followed orders people wouldn’t be getting into situations that they need to be bailed out of in the first place. You’re as bad as Cutter. Stupid, irresponsible... the pair of you are just bloody dangerous in the field.”
Connor wasn’t even sure whether it was the insult to himself or the insult to Cutter that got to him, but a second later he slammed Becker against the lockers, his hands twisting the fabric of the captain’s collar.
“I don’t give a shit about what sort of fancy pants orders-following officer’s club you’ve come from, Becker, but you need to get one thing straight. Round here, we do things differently. The sooner you get used to that, the faster you’ll fit in.” He leaned in close, pressing Becker back against the locker with the weight of his body. When he spoke again it was barely above a whisper. “And if you say that sort of thing about Cutter out loud again, well, you know, just don’t. Trust me, it’ll be safer.”
Connor knew that if Becker wanted to, he could almost certainly overpower him, but the man appeared to be so surprised he was just standing there, staring incredulously.
“You can’t... was that a threat? What the hell are y-”
Connor couldn’t be bothered listening to Becker’s outraged spluttering any more, so he kissed him. There was nothing in the kiss. Nothing at all. It was hard, unfeeling, a means to an end. Connor had yet to see anything from this man that would make him want to waste his passion on the captain.
After only a moment he pulled back, his fists still tangled in Becker’s jacket, his body still pressing him flush against the locker. Becker stared at him, his eyes wide and shocked, his mouth slightly open.
“What are you doing?” Becker asked in a whisper.
Connor was faintly surprised that Becker hadn’t just decked him, and it occurred to him to wonder just how far he could push it. A second later he wondered exactly where that thought had come from. This was about getting Becker to shut the hell up, nothing more.
“If you really want to protect us, then you need to work with us, not against us. Because right now this ‘bunch of amateurs’ knows more about dealing with this sort of shit than you can possibly imagine.”
“That didn’t answer my question.” Becker’s voice was still quiet, and more to the point he still hadn’t made any attempt to move. When Connor shifted slightly Becker gasped, and Connor realised exactly why the soldier had been keeping so very still.
Connor glanced down at the bulge in Becker’s trousers. Perhaps the captain was going to fit in with the team better than he had expected.
Connor carefully let go with one hand and let it slide down to investigate further. When he started to tug on the zipper, Becker sucked in a breath, his eyes still blown wide, his body still held utterly rigid. Connor took the fact that he hadn’t yet been punched as assent to continue, and he slipped his hand inside Becker’s trousers. He encountered boxers, and after a brief attempt he couldn’t be bothered trying to get them out of the way. He quickly ran his finger along the length of Becker’s cock, enjoying the quiet, barely controlled hiss from the captain.
“What are you doing?” Becker asked again, an edge of confused panic in his voice this time.
“I told you, you just need to lighten up,” Connor said. Somewhat clumsily through the boxers, he managed to grip Becker’s cock, and in only a few swift strokes he had the man coming in his pants. Connor used the hand that was still gripping Becker’s collar to brace him against the lockers and hold him upright as he shuddered.
Connor told himself it still meant nothing. Nothing.
Connor waited long enough to be sure Becker wasn’t going to fall over before he let go and fished a crumpled wad of tissues out of his pocket, wiped his hand with one and handed the rest to Becker. Then he turned and walked away.
He was at the door when Becker simply said, “Why?”
Connor paused, and looked back at him. He was starting to suspect that he may have underestimated the new captain, after all. This was going to be very interesting.
Connor let the tiniest hint of a smile appear on his face.
“Like I said, round here we do things differently.”