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Private was not having a particularly good time.
They had left early in the evening, the clouds above dark and angry, to stakeout at an abandoned warehouse after hearing reports of suspicious activity. They'd split up, with Private staying alone outside to keep watch and the other three fanning out inside to investigate. As it turns out, their fears of it being some new Dr. Blowhole hideout were unfounded. Instead, it was just some teenagers, messing around where they shouldn't be.
That didn’t stop one of the teens from trying to pick a fight with Private after he was seen, nor did the rain that started pouring down right before they took their first swing. While it was mostly flailing and trying not to slip on the wet ground, they'd landed a few solid hits. Private was too worried about actually hurting them to really fight back, only blocking and defending- at one even falling backwards, barely catching himself. They had only stopped when he'd finally landed a (much softer than usual) hit.
It was a waste of an evening and Private wanted nothing more than to change out of his ruined clothes and curl up under his covers. His head hurt an awful lot, and his breath rattled in his chest. He couldn't stop shivering, even as he pulled on his warmest jumper. He heard a knock at the door as he slipped on his glasses, orange frames cold on his face. Kowalski stood in the doorway of their shared room, a towel held out in his hands.
“Thought you might want to dry off a bit. Rico is making dinner, if you're done." He walked towards Private before stopping short. “When did that happen?” he asked, pointing to his arm.
“What?” He looked down to see a large, quickly forming bruise. “Oh, one of the teens noticed me and tried to fight me. Only landed a few hits though. I didn't even notice that!” Even though he really should have. Now that he's looking at it, it really is starting to hurt. So was his cheek actually- and his wrist. Ow. “It’s fine, really.”
Kowalski pursed his lips before handing him the towel. “Hold on a minute, I'll be back.” The door closed, making Private realize he'd forgotten to turn on the lights. He reached over, blinking back the sudden brightness, before trying to dry his hair.
He could hear conversation through the walls, though he couldn't make out words. His head was getting worse- he'd definitely worn his contacts for too long- but there wasn't much he could do about that.
His smile slipped into a frown. To be honest, he didn't mention the fight for a reason. He really should have handled that fight better. Not gotten caught, or at least found a way to talk them down. Not gotten hit too, he thinks as he jostles his wrist, though he's fairly sure that was from the fall.
The others can handle themselves just fine- they were actually doing the hard part, sneaking through the warehouse. All he had to do was keep out of sight for a few hours, and he didn't even manage that.
He was startled out of his thoughts when the door reopened. Kowalski was holding one of their first aid kits, a water bottle, and an ice pack. He gestured towards the desk, setting down the kit. “Come here, where exactly did you get hit?”
“Ah- Just my arms and my head. Slipped and managed to hurt my wrist a bit though,” he said, reaching towards the ice pack, wrapping it in the towel and setting it on his arm. “Arms are mostly just sore, and my wrist isn't any worse than maybe a minor sprain. It's my head that's the worst.”
“I'll be the judge of that wrist. Let me see,” Kowalski asked, taking hold of his arm. He carefully examined him, while Private sat kicking his feet. “Well, lucky for you, it doesn't look like you even sprained it. Take it easy tonight, but you should be fine tomorrow,” he said, adjusting his own glasses. Though he knew Kowalski would never admit it, Private had always been sure they were fake. “Now, let's look at that cheek.”
His cheek was fine. It would probably just bruise at worst, but the cut near his hairline they found was cause for some concern. Though it was mostly superficial, Private still winced as Kowalski applied the antibiotic cream to the cut. Kowalski huffed but didn't say anything further until he was done. “Alright, what bandaids do you want?” he asked, holding out three options, normal, blue, and pink, though he looked like he already knew what Private would pick.
He picked pink, of course.
Kowalski makes him go through the entirety of their post-fight checklist after that, even though he knows he's fine. Private is torn between finding the concern touching and being upset at Kowalski’s lack of faith in him. He passes everything, of course, with the only real concern still being his wrist.
Private wrapped his arms around himself, mindful of the ice pack. He stared down at the desk as Kowalski finished putting everything away, entirely too aware of Kowalski’s eyes on him.
“How are you feeling?”
Private blinked. Kowalski looked rather uncertain, despite being the one to break the quiet. “Really, I'm fine. Don't worry about it.”
Kowalski only looked more uncertain at that. “Private, you got hurt without noticing. Of course I'm going to worry. You do know that, don't you?”
And Private- does. He does get it, really. He just can't help but feel like it's a little unfounded.
He didn't say that though. He just nodded.
Kowalski rubbed his face with his hand, muttering “Oh, I'm terrible at this.” He looked Private over again, before setting a hand on his shoulder. “I'm glad you’re alright. We all are. You're really okay?”
Private nodded again, though this time while smiling. It felt a little more genuine this time. Kowalski tried, and that was more than enough.
Kowalski handed him some pills (“Acetaminophen and ibuprofen- Tylenol and Advil.") before also handing him the water bottle. Private took the pills, only realizing how thirsty he was when he had already finished half the bottle. He sipped on the rest as they left the room.
Kowalski stopped as they reached the end of the hall. “I need to put this up. Why don't you go ask Rico what he's making for dinner?”
The kitchen was quiet, very unusual when Rico was cooking. When Private walked in, he was leaning against the counter on his phone while a pot boiled on the stove. It was always weird, seeing him right after a mission. His usual piercings were gone, as well as his spiked collar- usual for when they went out, but he'd also changed into his regular day clothes.
“What are you making?”
Rico startled, apparently not having realized Private was there. “Shrimp pasta,” he said, “had some shrimp in the fridge.”
“Oh!” Private perked up. Shrimp was one of his favorites. “Will it be long?”
“Nah. Just need the shrimp and sauce.” He grabbed the pot and a strainer, walking towards the sink. “Can you get the pan. The one on the left.”
Private grabbed the pan, setting it down on the stove and turning up the heat. Rico came back, strained noodles back in the pot, before he asked "Can you also get the butter and cream? I'll start the shrimp."
This was, Private decided, a little weird. Rico hardly ever let anyone help him cook unless absolutely necessary, and from the look of it- he had this handled. Shrimp pasta wasn't a very complicated dish. Still, he grabbed the butter and cream from the fridge, mindful of the ice pack on his arm.
The shrimp were already almost cooked by the time he set down the ingredients. They weren't whole, rather they were chopped into smaller pieces, making them cook much faster. Rico added the cream first, letting it pool around the shrimp pieces and absorb the flavor. The butter was added in after, and he let it melt as he stirred it all together.
"Here," he said suddenly, shoving the spatula into Private's hand, "Don't let it burn." He turned back to the noodles, taking them again. Private heard doors opening and plates clacking together behind him, but didn't turn around. He didn't want to risk getting distracted and burning the sauce. He just kept stirring, making sure to get the sauce on the edge, too.
He only turned around when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Rico looked at the sauce, now a warm off white color, before nodding. He grabbed a spoon, quickly dipping it into the sauce and holding it out to Private. "Taste."
Private took the spoon, letting the flavor wash over him. It was good- creamy without being too rich, flavorful without being overpowering. Still- it felt like it was missing something.
"It’s good! Just- maybe needs a little something?" He glanced around, before he thought of something. "Do we have any of that parmesan left from the other night? Maybe we should use that?"
Rico squinted at him, and he suddenly became very worried. Cooking was Rico's specialty, aside from explosions, and he wasn't sure if he would appreciate a comment like that. Private knew he wouldn't, if someone told him how to be cuter. Yet, all Rico did was nod and grab the shredded parmesan, sprinkling it into the pan before leaving Private to stir again. The sauce thickened, becoming an even warmer color now.
Rico returned with a second spoon, once again tasting the sauce. He nodded, satisfied with the taste now. He motioned to turn off the heat, before he grabbed four plates, now with the cooked pasta on them. Private stepped to the side, watching as he evenly divided the sauce between the four plates, pouring it over top.
"I can go grab Skipper and Kowalski? If you want?" Private asked, earlier worry forgotten. Rico didn't seem upset, and he wasn't exactly one to hide how he was feeling.
He saw Rico nod, but as he turned to leave he heard him clear his throat. "Hey." Private turned back to look. "Nice job," he said, smile wide enough to pull at his scar.
Private smiled back brightly.
He called the others for dinner, before returning to grab his plate. Their apartment didn't have much in the way of a dining room, so they just used the sitting room when they ate together. Private sat on the small couch and began to eat. It really was good- the cheese really tied it all together. He's glad he mentioned it. Eventually, everyone else entered the room too, gathering on the chairs, Skipper sitting on the couch with Private.
"Rico, you really outdid yourself this time," Skipper said grinning.
Rico barely paused to look up. "Private helped. Did the sauce."
Skipper looked surprised, and Private wasn't sure if that was insulting or not. Then he turned to Private, smiling again, and said "Well, looks like Rico's got an apprentice! Good job Private!"
They all ate quickly after that, talking about what they were doing tomorrow. Apparently, Skipper had already decided it would be a mostly free day, just for them to relax. Private was glad- he felt it might be needed, after today. Once everyone was done, Rico managed to drag Kowalski into doing dishes together.
Skipper began to flip through channels on the television, though he didn't look interested in anything he saw. Finally he turned towards Private, a serious expression on his face.
"So. You want to tell me why you didn't say you got into a fight with a civilian?"
Private froze. No, he actually didn't want to, but going by the look in Skipper's eyes, he really didn’t have much of a choice. He threaded his fingers together to stop himself from fidgeting. Besides, Skipper was right. If they got into an altercation they were meant to report it to their higher officer. Especially if it was a civilian.
"I- um- I didn't think about it? They were unaware of our operation, just that they saw me hanging around and didn't like that-" he stopped when Skipper held up his hand, shaking his head.
"That's not what I meant. Let me rephrase, why didn't you say you got hurt?"
Private blinked at him. "I...didn't realize," he mumbled. "Honest!" He added when Skipper sent him a doubtful look. "I didn't feel anything until Kowalski pointed out my arm."
Skipper rolled his eyes. "Well still, I would like to know if you plan on getting dinged up by some nobody."
Private looked away, curling in on himself. He heard Skipper pause, before the television went silent and a hand reached out to ruffle his hair.
"Don't beat yourself up over it, alright? So you messed up one little fight, who cares? Everyone has!"
Private, still more than a little upset, couldn't stop himself in time from muttering "I bet you never did."
The hand in his hair froze, as did Private. He didn't mean to say that. He really didn’t mean to say that. He heard Skipper sigh and felt him withdraw his hand, and curled up tighter.
"Private." He didn't move. "Did I ever tell you about my first day stationed in Europe?"
Private didn't look, but he nodded. "The same day there was an attack on the base. You immediately took control of the whole unit. Everyone started following your orders over there Commanders- that's why you got switched to special mission."
Skipper huffed when he finished speaking. "Well, it may surprise you to know, I may have- exaggerated. Some parts of that story. Or left some out."
That got Private's attention. Don't get him wrong, he knew parts had to be exaggerated (he knew Skipper didn't get promoted that quickly, at least.) Still, it surprised him to hear Skipper admitting it. "What do you mean?"
"Well you see, I didn’t exactly have the best start to my visit to Europe. As soon as I was off the boat, I had strangers dragging me by the arm. I tell you, I was lucky to remember anyone's name. Finally I had a break during dinner, so I decided to take a walk outside the base. Try to familiarize myself with the area.” Private heard him shift in his seat.
“Unfortunately, I didn't take into account the awful way Europe's cities are laid out. I wasn't exactly the best at keeping track of where I was back then, so I- well, lost my way back I suppose."
Private turned to look at him, smiling "You got lost on your first day?”
"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. It wasn't until, uh, one of the other soldiers on a walk saw me looking like a fish out of water- though by that time it had started pouring, so more like a fish in too much water really- that I finally got led back to the base. Just as we got back though, we heard about the break in. Everyone was still scrambling to figure out what had happened, no one was giving any orders, and even if they were, no one was following them."
Skipper started fiddling with the cord around his neck. Private knew his dog tags hung on it, though he usually kept them tucked in his shirt.
"Eventually, someone ordered everyone to search the whole camp, top to bottom. Wouldn't have been a bad plan, except the base was huge. Way too big to do that without risking the thieves getting away. I knew there was a better way, so I went against orders and went searching alone. Almost managed to catch them, too- though all I really succeeded in was giving myself a concussion when they fought back. The other two managed to get away completely unscathed." Skipper paused to roll his eyes. Private huffed out a small but genuine laugh, though it quickly went quiet.
"Why... why are you telling me this?"
"I'm telling you this because you need to stop being so hard on yourself. You messed up one little fight, so what? We all have! I have half a dozen stories from Kowalski and Rico both where they completely botched a mission."
Private giggled at that. "I guess you're right. Still," he sighed, "Doesn't make it feel much better."
Skipper wrapped an arm around his shoulder. "Eh, you'll be over it in the morning. Just- don't let it get you down too much, alright? You're good at what you do, even if you mess up sometimes."
Private leaned against Skipper, suddenly feeling the weight of the evening wash over him. "Can you tell me what happened after?"
"After what?"
"After you lost the thieves. I know that's not the end of what happened."
Skipper chuckled softly. "Well, okay, but only because you asked for it. So there I was, barely holding this guy down, when out of nowhere..."
Private falls asleep easily, feeling more at rest than he has in years.