Like My Mom
A/N: Alas, I owe you people an update... or five. If you have a livejournal, drop me on your watchlist and you get faster updates and know what's going on. Link in my profile.
Also, thank you for your reviews, as always. :D Here comes Jensen...
+Like My Mom
In which Jensen is kind of filling a hole. In a completely PG rated way, thanks a lot.
So. Jensen was the baby of the unit, in age and seniority both. He was cool with that. Had to be, since he’d always been the baby. That’s what happened when you finished high school at fifteen. Kind of hard to be the oldest kid in a group when you were, in fact, way ahead of just about everyone.
He was cool with that.
The Losers were cool and they didn’t give him shit beyond the obvious and obligatory hazing and Clay let him pull his crazy stunts and even looked proud when said crazy stunts happened to save someone’s life and fuck regs. Cougar, the uber amazing sniper guy, had only been a Loser for maybe three months longer than Jensen, so it wasn’t like they were this absolutely tight-knit group with Jensen on the outside.
Except they kind of were, only it was Jensen and Cougs on the outside and they totally didn’t do it on purpose, except for Roque, who was an asshole and did.
It was just… the inside jokes. Like, loads of them, okay? Every unit had them and, as far as Jensen could tell from blacked-out files, Roque and Clay at least had been together for almost a decade, so that wasn’t really surprising. Pooch had only been with them for two years or so, but in black ops, two years were practically a geological age or something.
It was just… they kept comparing Jensen to some former member of the team they called ‘Mom’ and whenever they did, they all looked at each other with expressions Jensen couldn’t figure out and it bugged him. Major buggage here. And Cougar, with his big silent act and not a clue who Mom was either, was no help.
So obviously, Jensen was on a mission. That mission was called: Find Out Who The Fuck Mom Is And Why Everyone’s Comparing Me To The Fucker.
FOWTFMIAWECMTTF, for short.
Yeah. It was a bit of a mouthful. Mostly, Jensen just called it the Thing.
Obviously the first step was to hack top secret mission reports and read them all. First thing he figured out was that they were actually comparing him to a chick, which, yeah, okay, he coulda figured out. It was kinda in the name and all that.
But, really? A chick? No picture in the file, for whatever reason, but a description. At least she was apparently hot. And, wow. Para. Jensen had met a few guys from Para once and they were badass. Possibly as badass as the Losers. There was just no freaking those guys. Demon guts, slime, teeth, claws. They just kept firing, like some fuckawesome avatar in a zombie video game or something.
So Mom was a chick, but she was a total badass chick.
Jensen was badass, too.
Sure he was.
He just had no idea why they compared him to her. Apart from the badassery, of course.
Step two, then.
Step two was more… eh, covert intel gathering. Mostly, it consisted of walking up to Pooch, saying something smooth about Jolene and then asking him who the fuck Mom was.
The first answer he got was, “Para liaison. She left the unit when her sister got knocked up. Wanted to be home for the sprog.”
Then, when Jensen tweaked his question to, “What was she like?” he got some actual answers.
“She talked too much. Puns all around. And she kicked all our asses. And
she got along great with Jolene.”
Which, considering the stunts they pulled and the wildly edited versions of said stunts that Pooch presented Jolene with, okay, was probably a problem. She’d probably been, like, a spy for Jolene, who was a very scary woman and should not know all the shit they got up to. Jensen had only heard about her so far, never met her, and he already feared her.
Roque assured him that was only healthy.
So Mom was a smartass and a badass. Which was cool. He was being compared to a cool chick and he thought that was the end of the Thing.
Except then Cougar got his dumb ass shot and while Jensen patched him up in the middle of some fucking jungle, he kept yelling, “Don’t die! I said you don’t get to die! What the fuck were you thinking, Cougs, almost fucking dying when I told you to not fucking die
And Clay exchanged a look with Roque and said, “Are you sure you’re not related to anyone called Summers?”
Jensen was too busy yelling to answer. Pooch was laughing like the world was ending.
And then Roque got into a snit over Clay’s latest future-ex-with-bombs and stalked off. Pooch tried to talk him down and almost got a knife in the face in gratitude and Cougar said nothing and got yelled at anyway and Jensen was pretty sure that Roque was going to go out into the city and find someone to murder in a very slow, very serial-killer way and that was Not Good.
Actually, make that Definitely Not Good.
Clay came stumbling out of his bedroom five minutes later, still fumbling with his belt and looked around before sighing. “Roque?”
Pooch pointed at the door. “Fucked off. He’s in a mood, Clay.”
Understatement. Of. The. Year.
Clay rubbed hand over his face. “Anyone up for beating him back to sanity?”
Nobody moved. Jensen and Cougar looked at their fearless leader with something akin to disbelief. Beating Roque back to sanity? Was he nuts? The man had knives and was willing to use them! Also, Jensen seriously doubted that Roque had ever been
sane, so there was really no ‘back’ to beat him to. Thirdly, knives!
Sighing into the silence for a second time, Clay cursed and then said, “Wish Mom was here. She’d put him fucking straight.”
And then, somehow, suddenly, Pooch and Clay were both looking at Jensen expectantly. He jumped when he noticed and pointed a very indignant finger at himself. “Me? What do you want with me? I’m not going after him. What makes you think I’d be the right person to go after him?! He’s crazy. Cra-zy, I assure you!” He shook his head and preemptively backed up a few feet.
“You’re kinda like Mom,” Pooch professed in a desperate tone. “Mom could fix Roque when he got like that. So go fix him!”
Hands up, palms out, Jensen shook his head until he felt dizzy. “No fucking way am I going after that asshole. He hates me!”
Clay snorted. “He doesn’t hate you. When Roque hates you, he puts a knife in you. Now, do I need to make this an order, Corporal?”
Jensen blinked because seriously? Where they serious? He had to go after the nutjob of the unit because he vaguely reminded them of the chick that used to do the job? “Your logic is absolutely fucked, boss. He’s going to murder me! Why wouldn’t he murder me, huh? I wanted to see thirty! Hell, I wanted to see twenty-five! What do I have that you don’t, huh? Huh?!”
He may have gotten a bit shrill there at the end. He didn’t feel guilty about it, though. He was going to die! He was going to be the first guy ever to die of friendly knife!
Pooch waved a hand in his direction. “Because you’re sane… ish. Kinda. Like, a different kind of crazy, okay? And you laugh. Happy laughter. So just…”
There went the hand again. Apparently, Pooch didn’t deal very well with not having anything concrete to say. He got all… fluttery.
“Seriously?” Jensen asked, again. “You’re sending me out to die because I laugh? That is so totally not fair and I am writing a letter to my congressman. From heaven. Because Roque is going to kill me.”
“You’re good,” Clay suddenly said, hand over his eyes.
Jensen stopped dead in mid-rant. “Thank you?”
“No,” the Colonel waved him off. “Not like that. You’re… good. There’s something about you that’s not… twisted. Like you’re still…” he growled and hit his thigh with his palm. “Do not make me use the word ‘pure’, Corporal.”
Right. Pure. Erm… Wow. Jensen was speechless.
“Roque’s not going to seriously hurt you because he has some
lines left to cross. Just… go, alright?”
Jensen went and Clay was right. Roque yelled and he kicked things over and he took a swing at him once, but he didn’t actually try to hurt him. Eventually, he said, “Mom woulda kicked Clay’s ass
Then he went quietly and Jensen thought that maybe it wasn’t about being a smartass and a badass. He thought that maybe it was about how they missed her and she’d kept a balance for them that they couldn’t keep on their own.
And he thought maybe he should feel honored to be compared to the woman that had apparently held them all together and kept them clinging to sanity.
He thought that maybe they overestimated him.