Escort
Author: wanderingsmith
apr 3, 2015
Summary: Christmas was ranting loudly
about people who tried to pass off shit as
antiques; unreasonably pissed, complete with
waving hands, as they left the knife-seller's
booth, and Doc watched with interest as he
started to walk. Right toward a maze of
hanging cloth fluttering in the lazy heat.
Rating: PG13
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and
nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As
it is thought, so let it be said; you make the
toys, I play with 'em..
AN: Bit o' nonsense :)
Christmas was ranting loudly about people who
tried to pass off shit as antiques; unreasonably
pissed, complete with waving hands, as they left
the knife-seller's booth, and Doc watched with
interest as he started to walk. Right toward a
maze of hanging cloth fluttering in the lazy heat.
He didn't quite see, at first, how the man avoided
what would have no doubt turned into an ugly
international incident.
Until he looked down from the fetching pale blue
scarf trying to catch on Barney's nodding tweed
beret. And caught sight of his old friend's hand
moving from its midair position just behind
Christmas to touch the hyper brit's hip.
Doc's eyes rose in slow surprise to see the still
wildly ranting man in jeans and the weirdest cammo
shirt Doc'd ever seen blindly step around a woman
in a black hijab and her three kids. Never seeing
them as he went from glaring, unseeing, vaguely
toward Barney, to rolling his eyes at the sky,
mouth going a mile a minute and accent gotten too
thick for Doc's not-familiar enough ear to
decipher.
Doc's mouth hung somewhere between a grin, and
being open in shock as Barney repeated the move
all the way through the crowded couple hundred
yards to the parking lot where their transport was
parked, ending up walking so close that his
raggedy British surplus khaki jacket half-hid
Christmas' eyesore. When Doc glanced at the quiet
team around him, the kids were giving the stalls
bored looks while the old gang chatted together,
each with an unsurprised eye on their leader and
his still muttering and waving second in command.
Until a few feet from the truck, Christmas
suddenly stopped, Barney's midair hand coming to
rest on his back as the man didn't stop quite
quick enough.
And Doc smirked as Barney's bosom-buddy blinked at
the rusted piece of shit Barney'd found for them
to use before looking around at the parking lot as
though confused how he'd gotten there. Then turned
his head to look at the.. fuck; Doc rolled his
eyes. The *indulgent* smile Barney was giving him.
And the arm that was still on the knifeman's back.
He felt the thickening silence behind him and was
sure the lot of them were staring at the little
scene just as close as he was.
Barney's expression never wavered as Christmas
aimed a smirk at him, "Just how often d'you do
that?" Damn good question, Doc thought to himself,
thinking how Barney's moves had been way too lazy
and confident to be new.
"Don't know what you're talking about, Christmas."
A half-dozen people snorting at the same time made
enough noise that the two mercenaries quit their
damn flirting and turned to Doc and the others
before the blandly innocent evasion got a reply.
--
If it wasn't one damn thing, it was another. Lee
smiled a mouthful of teeth at their team and
snarled, "Lot of you get in the damn rust bucket
unless you want to be left in bloody Baghdad!"
Returning the lazy fingers aimed at him, he waited
until the last Expendable passed him and Barney
before covering the inches between their sides to
lean his mouth to Barney's ear as he dropped a
hand, "Let me escort *your* ass to your seat."
The smirk Barney sent him was at least more
familiar than that too-fond look from a second
ago. But allowing Lee to fondle him, even under
the excuse of shoving him to the passenger door,
without a word, was.. weird. He gave the man a
glance as they rounded the hood, asking more
seriously than before, "What are you up to,
Barney?"
"Ain't up ta nothin', Christmas."
Right.
It wasn't as though he *minded*, for fuck's sake!
Smiling a little, pain in the ass job's leftover
stress finally dissipated with that satisfying
vent, Lee crowded Barney back against the door
with his body, fingertips just reaching the roof
of the cab, glad the back of the truck was covered
so their erstwhile colleagues weren't privy to
this, "OK, then what are you up *for*?"
Leaning back against the hot metal, Barney just
looked at him steady; serious, but relaxed. "You
really need to ask that, Lee?"
It only took a few seconds staring into those eyes
to convince himself. "No." He reached a hand down
to grip the handle, leaning in to deliberately rub
his whiskers against Barney's jaw. Grinning at the
wordless grunt of discomfort, he whispered, "I
sleep on the left." And pulled the door open,
forcing Barney to straighten, giving Lee a
narrow-eyed look of annoyance.
Lee just grinned back, swaggering his way to the
driver's door. From fake katanas to Barney finally
making and sticking by a physical overture.
Life was suddenly looking *way* up!
Back to Fanfic
Back to The Canadian
Wanderer's homepage >