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The op had started out great. Jensen fucking loved HAHO jumps and the fact that they turned the rest of the team into grumpy, complaining assholes just made them that much better in his opinion. Careening through the air, without a care in the world, going where ever the wind took you, what wasn't to like? Sure it was fucking freezing, and yeah, there was the chance of your chute not opening and you going splat, but you could also choke on a taco or get hit by a bus and if you were going to go out you may as well go out in style, right? Right.
And besides, Jensen was pretty sure, despite what they said, Roque and Clay liked the jumps. Clay always had the same look on his face right before jumping that he wore when he was steeling himself up to go out with one of his psycho harem women and considering that those dates usually ended worse than their jumps, Jensen figured Clay was either much more masochistic than he let on, or was lying about hating HAHOs. Roque was a hard one to read; the guy wore his 'I'm going to kill everyone and everything that I can get away with' face ninety-five percent of the time, but Jensen had caught him secretly looking at his chute the same way he looked at the biggest of the knives in his collection so there had to be some love going on there.
Pooch might genuinely hate jumping, but that was probably because he was a transpo guy. With HAHO it was just the sky and a chute and you were pretty much dependent on where ever the wind took you and transpo guys like Pooch were used to being the ones controlling their various means of getting from A to B but you can't control the wind so, yeah, Jensen couldn't fault him for not being thrilled with that.
Cougar on the other hand? Cougar was hilarious when it came to jumping, mostly because the rest of the time Cougar was the chilliest motherfucker you'd ever meet. Nothing phased that guy- they could be under heavy mortar fire, dust and smoke everywhere, and Cougar'd be there, happy as a clam, sniping away. No shot was impossible, no situation too difficult to handle. Cougar stayed calm and as sneakily silent as a man could be. When his feet were on the ground. Or in a tree. Or, well, he was anywhere other than when he was about to be falling through the air at 120 or so miles per hour. Cougar approached each and every HAHO jump like he was going to the firing squad (and after that thing in Paraguay Jensen knew exactly what Cougar looked like when facing a firing squad, but the less said about that whole experience the better.) Suffice it to say he hated it.
Jensen didn't understand it. Freefall was kind of like flying and the closest thing to having superpowers that someone like him was probably ever going to get. And who didn't want superpowers? No one, that's who. "Why don't you want to be a superhero, Cougs?" he asked, suddenly needing to know.
"Keep him quiet, Cougar!" Clay hissed just as a hand (Cougar's hand, Jensen would know that hand anywhere) slipped over his mouth. Oh, right. They were hiding and being hunted and he was supposed to be keeping quiet. Because while the jump had been awesome, the not-so-retired general they'd been sent to take out wound up having more than five times the troops he was supposed to have according to the intel they'd been given as well as a shitton more weaponry and ammunition, including multiple .50 caliber machine guns, grenade launchers and a cannon. A freaking cannon!
And that was how the op when from 'piece of cake' to 'we got this' to 'oh, crap' in about 0.2 seconds.
They'd still managed to accomplish their mission, because they were awesome like that, but their planned method for escape got obliterated because, not surprisingly, in the showdown between a cannonball and a jeep, the jeep was the loser by far. So they were left with having to hoof it on foot through a mess of jungle while trying to avoid the patrols of assholes swarming all over everywhere who were more than a little pissed off that they'd killed their boss.
None of that would have been a problem, well, that big a problem, had Jensen not been as close to the jeep as he was when it went kablooey and took some debris to the head. Side view mirrors, useful driver's assistants or dangerous projectile weapons? You decide. Jensen hadn't thought he'd been hurt that badly but, holy hell, Cougar had flipped out, and yeah, maybe they found him face down in the dirt and covered with blood and maybe he couldn't keep his balance for more than three seconds at a time and maybe he kept forgetting where they were and what they were doing, but that was no reason for Cougar to be treating him like he was helpless with his hands all over him and the supporting and touching and all.
Cougar's hands were really nice though. They were rough, but gentle and kind of smelled like greasy bananas which was weirdly reassuring and comforting in its own way. One hand was still covering his mouth (and Jensen had the overwhelming urge to lick it, but he didn't because he wasn't five but rather a grown man and grown men didn't lick people's hands, they licked other things and woah where the hell did that thought come from?) and the other was wrapped around his chest, holding Jensen tightly up against him. It was nice, being pressed up against Cougar. Did Cougar also think it was nice? Jensen opened his mouth to ask him.
"Shhh."
Oh right. That whole 'be quiet' thing. Jensen had kind of forgotten about that once Clay had left. Cougar had leaned forward when he'd shushed him and now his hair was falling over Jensen's face, tickling his cheek. Jensen reached up and ran his fingers through Cougar's hair. Jensen kept his own hair short, not because it was regulation, but because it was easier to deal with at that length. Roque and Clay kept theirs short too and Pooch was bald, but Cougar's was nice and long. Sometimes it was curly and sometimes nice and straight but Jensen didn't know why Cougar sometimes favored one way over the other or why he wore it differently at different times.
Maybe he'd try to remember to ask one of these days. Assuming they got out of the jungle and made it back to base. Which they would because Pooch was currently trying to find them a new transpo or some radio equipment that was working (unlike Jensen's, which didn't survive the whole jeep vs cannonball thing) that they could use to call for something and Roque was off getting his slicing and dicing on, taking out everyone who was trying to kill them as quietly as possible. Roque and his knives, a match made in heaven. Or hell, maybe. Jensen supposed it depended on whether you were the one being protected or being attacked by them because Roque was fucking scary when he got to pull out his Nighthawk and go play.
Their cover kind of sucked, Jensen and Cougar sort of shoved together up against a half hollowed out dead tree and behind some fallen branches, but Clay was patrolling nearby, taking care of anyone who got too close and between him and Stabby McStabberson, Jensen figured he and Cougar were pretty safe. Add in the fact that despite being wounded, Jensen was capable of defending himself pretty well and Cougar was as deadly as his namesake when cornered so he figured they were good. Nothing to worry about. Although, between Clay, Roque and Cougar, his help probably wouldn't even be needed. Which was actually a good thing, because everything was kind of wobbly and out of focus at the moment and making him kind of nauseous. Maybe it would help if he closed his eyes for a second….
"Jensen!" someone hissed his name, shaking him and tapping his cheek.
Hmmmm? What? "Leave me alone, Cougar, 'm trying to sleep."
"You cannot sleep, not with a head injury," Cougar scolded him quietly, speaking barely above a whisper with his mouth right next to Jensen's ear.
Pfft, doctors were always saying that, but what did they know? Well, mostly likely a lot, because they were doctors and all that, but he always kind of wondered if some of the stuff they said was just for shit and giggles. Probably not? Or he hoped not, anyway, but who really knew? He figured he needed to argue the point though, so he whispered back, "but I'm tired." It wasn't a whine. Jensen never whined. It might have been a complainy kind of moan though. Maybe. He forced open his eyes, but all he could make out around him was green and brown and Cougar. Did he lose his glasses again? "I'm fine, just let me get some rest."
"I need you to watch my six."
Oh, well, that was different. If Cougar needed him then he had to stay awake. Wait, where were they? What had happened? Jensen blinked a couple of times, trying to focus better on what was around them. He brought a hand up to his forehead, feeling the damp bandage there. Head wound. Cannon. Jungle. Right, he remembered now. "Gun?"
"Your other hand." Jensen look down. Yep, there was his gun. Things you learn.
Jensen was about to ask Cougar if there was any word on the rest of the team when Cougar shushed him; under normal circumstances Jensen would have complained about that, but considering the way Cougar had also stiffened and raised his own weapon, he assumed there was some movement he wasn't seeing or a noise he hadn't heard so he just tried to stay as still and quiet as he could to let Cougar react to whatever threat he was sensing without Jensen bothering him. However, a moment later, Cougar relaxed, lowering his gun right before Clay appeared out of nowhere, pushing aside their leafy cover.
"Ready to get out of here, Losers?"
Jensen probably should have replied with something witty, because of course he wanted to get out of the asscrack of nowhere's jungle of doom and gloom, but his head was killing him and Cougar was comfy and no one seemed to be shooting at them at the moment so he kind of didn't have it in him. Cougar shifted out from behind him though and got to his feet so Jensen didn't have any choice but to follow.
Or, well, to try to follow, because when Jensen attempted to get his legs under him and push himself to his feet he tipped forward and would have faceplanted into the dirt if Cougar hadn't grabbed him. "Thanks, Cougar," Jensen said once everything stopped spinning. But Cougar wasn't done helping, he slung Jensen's arm over his shoulder and soon Jensen was tucked in close to Cougar's side. He couldn't help but think he fit perfectly. They were going to have a discussion about that, he and Cougar, once Jensen was all patched up and on the mend.
"The patrols?" Cougar asked Clay.
"Roque is very… efficient," Clay explained as he took point and lead them north and, presumably, to where ever Pooch and their transport were waiting for them.
"I had help," Roque announced, suddenly coming around a tree in front of them, a machete dangling from one hand and a sweet HK from the other.
"Where'd you get the machete?" Jensen asked, because, head injury or no, he was pretty sure he'd have remembered if Roque had one of those before.
Roque just shrugged and smiled that eerily creepy murder smile of his so Jensen decided to let the matter drop, he just leaned into Cougar and let the others guide him home.