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squirrellysemanticsTitle: Basic Chapter 8
Summary: Modern military AU, the boys in basic training
pairing: Sokka/Zuko
Rating R for now, intended to go higher
I do not own ATLA nor make any money from this.
Needs to be read in order to make ANY sense whatsoever. Part 1 and Part 2 and Part 3 and Part 4 and Part 5 and Part 6 and Part 7
A/N. No real violence but if descriptions of blood spilling makes you ill, do not continue. Feedback is always appreciated. This may not seem as exciting as previous chapters but there are some things I needed to set up for later. Graduation will be coming up soon. I do plan on continuing with a story following their deployment. Please let me know what you think.
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Sokka gently ran a fingertip over the crook of Zuko’s forearm. His tongue flicked out to wet lips that were suddenly dry as bone. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Don’t say that.” Zuko leaned in close to whisper, “You know you can. Just take a deep breath and go for it.”
That might have given him enough confidence to proceed if Sokka wasn’t overwhelmed by his own pulse pounding against his ear drums.
A voice next to him punched through the sound of his heartbeat. “Just do it already, you pussy!”
“Shut the fuck up, Jeter!” Sokka snapped automatically. Almost a force of habit, really.
The bastard chuckled nastily. It was a little gratifying that it was immediately followed by a little yip of pain as Jenkins stabbed Jeter in the arm on his attempt to place an IV catheter. “Goddamnit, Longshot. Take it easy!”
Jenkins rolled his eyes at this, grabbing for tape with one hand while fiddling with the hanging bag of saline that was waiting to be hooked up with the other.
The chill in the room didn’t stop sweat from trickling down the small of Sokka’s back. Why the hell was this such a big deal? His father had taken him hunting as soon as he could walk. He’d personally field dressed more tasty snacks than he could count. Blood-whether his own or someone else’s- was not something that usually bothered him.
This was just one more aspect of their training. Infantry wasn’t just about shooting shit with a big fucking gun, though that was the kickass part for sure. If there was a small chance that some ham fisted grunt could save another soldier’s life in the field by dropping a line in some hemorrhaging kid, then by God they would learn how to do it.
Maybe it was who they had to practice on. Sokka was fairly confident he’d have no problem watching Jeter bleed.
It didn’t help his confidence that Zuko had blasted through his attempt in about five minutes, whipping through the catheter placement on Sokka like a damned nurse.
“Jesus, fuck that’s cold!” Jeter squirmed in his seat as Jenkins thumbed the roller clamp on the drip set wide open, sending more of the chilly fluid coursing into Jeter’s forearm.
His ‘patient’ used his knee to gently nudge Sokka in the thigh, bringing him back to reality. “I’ll be fine.“ Those crazy gold-amber eyes were turbulent, hard and soft at the same time. “I’ve been through this loads of times.”
Loads of times? Sokka felt his stomach do a little flip flop. That scar. The scar that nobody talked about. Must have been in and out of a hospital for weeks with that thing. Months before it had to stop hurting.
Jeter was right. Zuko was fine with it. Stop being such a pussy.
His latex glove was a no barrier to the warmth of taut muscle radiating underneath his hand as Sokka delayed some more. Zuko was so damn ripped that his cephalic vein popped up like a giant blue-green pipeline.
“Do it.” The whisper was so quiet he though he imagined it at first. He looked up to see Zuko give the tiniest of nods. With a deep breath, Sokka slid the catheter in place. His satisfaction at the successful flashback of blood on removing the catheter’s stylet turned into horror as the blood continued flow unfettered, splashes of dark red against a familiar expanse of creamy white skin making him a little weak in the knees. He fumbled for the IV line and screwed it on tight, halting the expanding mess.
“Don’t worry. I got plenty more where that came from,“ Zuko said with a faint smile. “You did great.”
One giant disgusting wad of gauze later and it was all a bad memory.
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The platoon had breezed through the end of Blue phase of their training with no problems. Jee, Zhao’s replacement was efficient at his job and a ton more personable but a bear with its foot caught in a trap was more personable than Zhao.
Starting Black phase was a relief, meaning more advanced infantry training and with it more privileges. Like possibly getting to the PX to finally buy some chocolate. Sokka was seriously jonesing for some sweets worse than the guys who had been forced to quit smoking.
Things suddenly felt a whole lot more real once they were issued their real body armor, not any of the fake crap they gave them early on. These tactical vests were bulky and heavy as hell though Jee told them the old styles were a hundred times worse.
And what would a bunch of bored young men given body armor do when they had nothing to occupy their time in the evenings? If you guessed they would suit up and try to drop kick each other in the chest after a cry of “Plate check!” as the only warning, you’d be right. After about a half hour of this, they abandoned the pretense of wearing armor all together and simply began wrestling each other to the ground as violently as possible.
There was no getting away from the rowdy bunch. Sokka curled himself up on his bunk to shield the borrowed cell phone from noise as he dialed a number he knew by heart.
“Hello?”
He had to swallow hard before he could answer. “Hey, Dad. It’s me.”
“Sokka!” The simply joy in his father’s voice made his heart sing. “I’ve missed you son.”
“I missed you too.” There was a question that couldn’t wait to get out of Sokka’s mouth. “Listen. I can’t stay on the phone too long. Do you think you’d be able to come down for graduation in a couple of weeks?”
The wait for an answer was seconds but seemed like hours.
“Of course I can. I would never miss the chance to see my son turn blue.”
Sokka blazed a megawatt smile into the phone cradled to his ear. “Great.” There was no one else he wanted placing the light blue infantry aiguillette over his shoulder. “Greater than great! I can’t…”
A thick-set body interrupted everything, landing hard across Sokka’s legs, nearly sending the precious phone flying. Sneers levered his bulky frame off of the man pinned underneath him. “Sorry dude!” With a big exhale, Sneers dove back into the fray, using moves that could only have been learned from watching professional wrestling on television.
Sokka returned to his phone call in annoyance. “Sorry about that. Things are a little wacky here right now.”
It was good to hear his father’s deep laugh, even from the tiny speaker. “I totally understand. It’s been a while but your old man can still remember what it was like going through basic. I’ll let you go.” There was a pause. “See you soon.”
“Can’t wait.” Holding the phone to his chest, Sokka closed his eyes for a moment before flipping it closed. Flipping onto his back, he used both feet to jiggle the bunk above his head just about where the impression of a body suggested an ass might be located.
The vaguely disgruntled look Zuko gave him as he popped his head over the side let Sokka know his aim was on target. He passed the cell phone up to the inverted man with a soft “Thanks.”
The entire bunk shook mightily when Sneers managed to get bucked off the pile of silliness yet again.
It was mildly amusing to see Zuko shake his head in disgust while he was hanging upside down. “Clowns.”
A wicked smile spread across Sokka’s face as he abruptly sat up. “Do ya wanna show ‘em how it’s done?”
Zuko grasped the bars and easily pulled himself into a forward roll, landing quietly on his feet. “Absolutely.”
The two let out a war cry as they entered the fray.
