Jarheads

He had to go to three fucking stores to find black eyed peas.

Three.

Rig was going to kill something.

All he'd wanted was a quick run out. But there was traffic. Crowds. He had a headache. And in fucking Texas he'd have found the damned peas.

He was still snarling when he got home, the dogs coming to greet him at the door. The place smelled... really quite good, actually. Like coffee maybe. And chocolate, and cookies.

He frowned, the tension in his shoulders already releasing. "Y'all? I found them. Finally."

"In here," Dick called from the kitchen. Rock met him at the door with a steaming mug of something that smelled like coffee and chocolate and booze. "Good. The kid made cookies."

"Tell me there's one of those for me."

"This is yours." Rock handed the mug over and Dick offered him a cookie.

More tension slipped away. "Oh. Y'all."

His marines grinned at him and Rock slipped an arm around his waist, Dick did the same around his shoulders and they walked him into the front room. "Dinner's all under control. All you have to do is relax."

"Thank God."

He kissed Dick's cheek, then offered Rock his mouth. "I do love my Marines."