Real Boys

“I was watching you today out there on the range with some of the other boys,” Sgt. Kennesaw said.

Christian lifted his head from where he’d been resting his chin on his knees and peered at the soldier. “Pardon?” It was almost midnight by his estimation. Nick and the others were probably asleep. He should have been asleep, too, but when he had a chance to be alone, he took it.

“When the other boys were showing your little friends how to work their way around an assault rifle.” Kennesaw’s dark gaze bored into Christian, but Christian had seen scarier men, had known more forceful drill sergeants.

“Kevin’s pretty handy with a gun,” Christian said. “We used to shoot his daddy’s rifle when he was a kid.”

“I’ve no doubt your country cousin knows his way around a Kentucky rifle,” Kennesaw said, “but I was watching you, too. And most boyband boys wouldn’t know their way around an M16 to save their lives. You handled that thing better than most of my men do.”

“I know my way around a Kentucky rifle, too,” Christian said. He kept his voice low, used Brian’s soft drawl. “Saw one of my cousins blow his own foot off because he hadn’t paid attention during my uncle’s gun safety lesson. Can never be too cautious with one of those things.”

Kennesaw shook his head. “I saw you drop your shots out there, too.”

Christian arched one eyebrow. “I’m afraid I don’t catch your meaning. Sometimes Yank slang still gets the better of me.”

“You could probably hit a dime from two-hundred yards away, but you let your shots spray wide.” Kennesaw leaned closer, lowered his voice to a growl. “You’re not a real boyband boy, are you?”

“I don’t know that any of us are real, Sergeant.” Christian tipped his head back and gazed up at the stars.

“I never told you my rank. I didn’t know boyband boys could read chevrons in the dark,” Kennesaw said.

Christian searched for the constellation Draco, idly wondering what one of his teammates would do. Gabriel would wipe the memory, but that wasn’t an option for him. Angel would get the man so drunk he wouldn’t remember a thing. Tobias would have spun an elaborate lie - perhaps witness protection? And Keith. Keith always did like fire a little too much.

“If I’m as good at all this as you think I am, do you really think you could stop me from doing whatever it is you think I might do?” he asked finally.

“Are you here to do anything, kid?”

“I’m here to sing, sir. And dance. Be a little patriotic for my homeland.”

“Where did you learn to do what you do?”

“The same place I learned to sing and dance.” Christian hauled himself to his feet.

“Why would they teach that sort of thing to you boys?”

Christian headed back toward the tent he was sharing with Dwayne and AJ. “Someone’s gotta watch their backs. You never know what screaming teenage girls can do.” But it wouldn’t be the screaming teenage girls he’d deal with tomorrow night. “Good night, sergeant.”

Quislai didn’t really need to sleep, either.