More Jarheads

"We're out of coffee." Rig grabbed his coat, his wallet, and headed for the door.

Rock frowned at him. "Where are you going?"

Dick snagged his arm. "You want some company?"

"We're out of coffee." Now, he knew they hadn't had coffee in the house for three years, but...

Rock opened his mouth and then shut it again. "But..."

"I'll just grab some, huh? For Christmas?"

Rock shook his head. "No."

Dick rolled his eyes. "Rock, man. Try, no, but you can have some peppermint hot chocolate."

Rig stuck his tongue out at Dick. "Just one pot?"

"No." Rock growled the word, the bear coming out.

Dick shook his head, but he was grinning, too. "I think Rock's feeling pretty adamant about this."

"It's Christmas." He tried the pout.

"So?" Rock's eyes were on his mouth now, but it didn't look like coffee was on his mind.

"Uh..." Wait. What were they talking about?

"Uh-huh." Rock took his arm and hauled him in up against all those muscles.

"Wait..." His eyelids started to close.

One of Rock's eyebrows went up, a hand dropping to his ass and squeezing one cheek. "Wait?"

"I... Mmm. So good."

Dick came up behind him, his marines making his favorite kind of sandwich out of him.

What had he been talking about?

Dick's fingers slid between him and Rock, working their buttons open as Rock's mouth held his.

Oh. Right. Fucking.

As in Merry fucking Christmas.

Go him.