(no subject)

[aut_nihil]

Pope doesn't go on as many missions as he once did. But he sees trouble brewing in the future, in the solo orders Carver was given, and he can't stomach staying behind when Carver might face the worst alone.

So he defies his own orders and he goes with Carver.

And things go sideways. They're outnumbered despite his best efforts and his warnings, and they're gathered up, hoods on their heads, arms tied behind their backs.

Carver's strong though. They're going to make it through this. He's going to get them through this.

Comments

[fortitudosalutis]

Oh, fuck. Carver closes his eyes, breath coming harder. He's not thinking of Riley even though he had it in his back pocket just in case. The enemy wants a show but this feels almost too real, the way that Pope reacts to it. How Carver can feel him getting harder, rubbing against Carver's stomach. Biting at his neck.

Carver groans at the pressure and just fucks him harder. "I got you," he murmurs, and he softens the bite he left on Pope's neck with a kiss. "It's okay."

You can let go.

[aut_nihil]

He jerks, coming again, momentarily losing track of everything else in the world. It's not supposed to be like this, he wants to snarl.

He keeps holding onto Carver, one hand in his hair, the other on Carver's hip.

[fortitudosalutis]

He feels it when Pope comes and fucks him through it, hissing against Pope's throat and biting him once more before finishing. He presses his forehead to Pope's with a groan, holding very still. Trying to breathe with him.

[aut_nihil]

His instincts rail against this. He wants to get to his feet, wants to fight and scream and claw his way out of this room.

He can't. Not yet. So he breathes. Stays down, stays still. "You passed," he tells Carver. It's over. For now.

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver draws back just enough to meet Pope's eyes, and nod. Solemn and sober. The commander never lies, never bullshits, so this is just the way the world is now. There was a test, but he passed. Fuck the enemy.

He pulls out, shifting to protect Pope if needed. Wary of the enemy.

The leader hums. Head tilting one way, then the other. "Well. Was that fun?"

[aut_nihil]

"I always wondered what you people got out of it," he tells the leader, glowering at him. "Now I know."

[fortitudosalutis]

The leader laughs at that, flashing very white teeth. "Oh, was he that good? Gosh."

The others snicker. Carver holds very still, expression blank.

"Really wasn't sure you had it in you," the leader adds almost thoughtfully. "But you came twice. That's fun. Mhmm. Bet you're all tuckered out now. And you were good, both of you. Maybe you've earned a little break before we come back."

[aut_nihil]

He doesn't know what it will be like to be alone with Carver after this. He dreads it.

But he stares at the leader, unwavering, like he could take another fucking if they want it, no big deal.

[fortitudosalutis]

"When we come back," the leader muses, "one of you's gonna have a whole lot of fun with all my guys. The other gets to watch. You'll be picking, Pope."

The others laugh again. And then they're alone.

Carver holds very still. Barely breathing. "Sir?" he murmurs.

[aut_nihil]

He breathes out hard. He needs Carver healthy; Carver is the better fighter.

"How are you holding up, son?" He asks, stalking away from Carver, needing space even though he also needs an update, needs to know what he's working with.

[fortitudosalutis]

He bows his head and doesn't move. Just holds very still and fixes his gaze on the horizon line, barely breathing.

"I'll live," he replies softly. Then he clears his throat and forces himself to speak clearer. To articulate. "I'm hurt, but it's easier to move now. Are you - ?"

Carver hesitates.

"Are you okay, sir?"

[aut_nihil]

He's worrying Carver, he thinks, and makes himself turn to face him.

"I'm fine," he says, and he is. He wasn't brutalized like Carver was. "You didn't hurt me. You...you did good, son. You pulled it together."

He can't let them get to him. Can't let them win the way they think they can, by wearing them down one humiliation at a time.

[fortitudosalutis]

It’s what you have to say, isn’t it? That you’re fine? That it was nothing?

He shivers. Wonders if Pope hates him now. “I’ll take it when they come back. You don’t have to, sir.”

[aut_nihil]

Pope looks at him then, and shakes his head. "No, I'm taking it. I need you strong." He looks away, his gaze darker. "What good am I as a commander if I can't protect my people?"

[fortitudosalutis]

"You came for me," Carver replies quietly. "Everybody else would've left me for dead."

They both know it, he thinks. The higher echelon officers are all the same.

[aut_nihil]

"Well everybody else was wrong, Carver," he tells him. He still believes that, even after all this. Carver was worth coming after. "And we're going to make it out of this. I need you to stand down when they-"

Do what they do to him.

"No matter what."

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver swallows hard. He meets Pope's eyes, though. "After," he says, very quietly. "After, we're gonna go drinking together."

There will be an after. There'll be something better.

"If I get fucked up -" Carver hesitates. "If I get really fucked up, can you call somebody for me? I'll do it for you, too."

[aut_nihil]

A soft grunt. "We're in it to the end now, son. We're going to celebrate when we get out."

It's grim to think of not getting out at all, let alone together, but he nods. "Who do you need me to call?"

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver's quiet for a long moment. It's not something he'd admit under different circumstances. But here, it is what it is. They might die. They might end up beaten so bad they don't know which way is up.

And, secretly, Carver wants to lie down next to someone. To trust that they won't hurt him so maybe he can rest, and heal.

"Sergeant Anders," he says, very quietly. Pope could make a thing of it, Carver knows. Even now.

[aut_nihil]

Sergeant Anders. Pope thinks about that, and about how skilled Carver was.

"You and him are...?"

[fortitudosalutis]

Don't flinch, Carver tells himself. Don't you dare flinch. He meets Pope's eyes and nods just once.

[aut_nihil]

Huh.

His skin crawls.

"I'll tell him if you can't make it out. But you're going to, Carver." And Carver will be done with Anders, by God. If he wants to continue in Pope's employ.

[fortitudosalutis]

There's not much to read in Pope's expression then. Just the ever present shine of his glasses. Carver holds himself very still, forcing himself not to fidget, to get up and pace. Pope hates that shit. And he could hurt himself worse by doing it, Carver knows. He needs to rest. They both do.

"Yes, sir," he agrees, quietly relieved that Pope doesn't ask for more. But he notes that Pope doesn't offer anyone else up that Carver could call for him; it's occurred to Carver more than once that the commander doesn't seem to have anyone, no family, no wife or girlfriend, nobody outside maybe Shaw who'd come and look after him if something happened. "You can take the shower, if you want."

[aut_nihil]

"Watch the door," he agrees, and he moves to the bathroom. Pauses there, because he's still not sure who he'd have Carver call.

"Tell Shaw. If I don't make it out--tell her it was worth it."

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver pulls himself up gingerly and doesn't make a sound. Just positions himself by the door and breathes out slow. He's hurt still, but it's a little easier to breathe, to move with it. They're going to survive. If he says it enough times, maybe it'll become true.

"I will, sir," he promises. "You always looked after us. You made us strong."