Chapter Text
The first kiss is not really a kiss. It’s accidental. A reaction to sheer exhaustion and exhilaration on Mitch’s part. Just before dawn, the Brotherhood had stormed into a super mutant camp just below the Revere Satellite Array. The greenskins had set themselves up underneath the large satellite dishes, an easy target for the Brotherhood, so the other Paladins and Knights had believed.
But it wasn’t.
This was a stronghold, with more than a few bunkers. Recon failed to pick up that fact and Mitch was the first to point out that they were emerging from underground like ants escaping from boiling water being poured in their nest.
A suicider took out one of the Vertibirds before all the soldiers were out and before they knew what was happening. Confusion, gunfire and smoke saw the second Vertibird blown from the air. They had no time to count the dead before there was another suicider, luckily-- taken out by a sniper within yards of where Mitch and Danse stood and fought.
The battle was hard fought and hellish, all of them pushed to the limits of their armor and skills. A bunker full of mutants matching the squad bullet for bullet. Mitch had his first three in a row kill. The constant trickle of sweat into the collar of his flight suit irritated his neck and made his stubble itch but his attention was on his squad, on the mutants calling out to them and on making sure that no one else would die that day, not if he had a say in it.
For the first time since he’d left the vault he felt he belonged somewhere, that this choice might be the right one despite the chaos and death currently raining around him. Prior to that he’d been a man out of time and out of place. The months rolled on, one then two then six and his usual swaggish nature and good humor took a beating. This hadn’t changed since he joined the Brotherhood, he’d earned several punches just for being himself and to add insult to injury he was no closer to finding his son than he was when he joined.
“Ad Victoriam,” he said when a punch hit his jawline. The first few in the mess hall when he took the wrong seat. “Ad Victoriam,” he wheezed when a blow hit his gut. The next few times in the showers when he took the wrong flight suit off a hook. “Ad Victoriam,” he said and laughed as he took several knocks to the chest and ended up on the ground. These last few were on the flight deck and it was only Danse’s intervention that stopped a kick to the head.
After the last Super mutant was killed they’d been told there would be at least a two hour wait for evac. So they exited their power armor, and Mitch, whilst on the adrenaline high of a battle won, expected more punches from a bunch of souped up Knights. Instead, he was given several congratulatory slaps on the back. Hard enough to make him stumble but not fall.
Mitch grabbed Danse’s shoulder with a firm hand, then the back of his neck, leaned in and kissed the man’s forehead, hard and fast and without thinking. The most concentrated abraxo couldn’t remove the smile from his face. “Ad Victoriam,” he said with a lopsided half smile failing to notice his mentor’s cheeks blush.
Danse returned with an awkward but elated smile of his own. “Ad Victoriam, brother,” he replied and turned his face away.
Mitch didn’t notice that either.
Once the dead were placed in body bags and left near the road ready for transport when the Vertibird arrived, the squad sat near the bunker, quiet and contemplative as they waited. There was little talk. Mitch and Danse leaned with their backs against a concrete barrier. Danse’s attention focused on what went wrong, his lips pinched between fingers and a stern look never leaving his face. Mitch’s attention was on the dead that were gone, then when his stomach rumbled, on where the hell he might be allowed to sit in the mess that night. When they turned to look at each other their gaze lingered longer than usual and Mitch knew that for today at least, there would be no punches coming his way.