Chapter Text
Baptiste considers himself a nice guy--personable, even--but even he doesn't shed a tear over the loss of their team heavy. The man had been, frankly, a bastard that did a poor job of protecting anyone. His own ass too, apparently.
Everyone is curious about the new guy when they finally bring him in. The dude is so huge he ducks a little coming through the short door frame, offering everyone a lazy salute.
"Heeeey. Guess I'm the newbie. Treat me gently." He grins and it's wide and infectious. A few of the guys are immediately won over but one never knows with guys like that. Mauga's eyes scan over his teammates and there's something a little territorial there. Dangerous.
His eyes rest on Baptiste for a moment and his tongue moves over his lips.
It’s hot.
"I'm sure we'll all be great pals in no time."
—
The gesture stays with Baptiste for a while. Sometimes when he closes his eyes he can see Mauga's eyes capturing his, the motion of his tongue against his lips. Despite that, Mauga doesn't make any particular passes at him, though the two have some friendly chatter.
"Good chemistry here," Mauga had said after they'd had a good laugh over a wild story Mauga had told, gesturing back and forth between their chests. It's not like Baptiste disagrees.
A couple missions pass so smoothly they're almost boring. It leaves some of the guys on the fence on Mauga, who other than his almost vicious enthusiasm hasn't had much opportunity to show his actual skill. Their latest mission is so dull it's decided they should all go out together to get drunk, see some kind of action.
There's a restless energy in the air, Baptiste can feel it. A rowdy energy that hopefully won't sour.
Mauga is one of the last guys to order something at the bar, asking with great enthusiasm for, "A Malibu Sunset for me. And could you put in one of those little umbrellas? That'd be great."
A couple of the boys side eye or snort. One of them, Doubleday, scoffs outright. "Really? That's a woman's drink."
Mauga smiles, eyes suddenly different, Baptiste thinks. More present. Baptiste shakes his head. Probably his imagination.
"If you have to be a woman to drink fun drinks then call me a lady."
That seems to be the end of that, should be. A handful of chuckles and everyone begins to chatter amongst themselves. Until the drink is suddenly in Mauga's hand and there is something funny about it. Mauga takes a sip and nods. "Now that is a good drink."
"Maybe you should let us order for you next. Show you what a real man drinks." Doubleday is smirking. It's some kind of peacocking but everyone is suddenly turning to see how Mauga will react.
He looks down at his drink, picking up the umbrella and sticking it between his teeth like a toothpick. "Ouch, that really hurts my feelings, you know?"
Mauga moves as if to take the umbrella from his mouth then keeps pulling his hand back, slugging the other guy before he even realizes what's happening. He's completely laid out, unconscious after one blow. Mauga cracks his knuckles, sipping his drink around a pink straw.
"I wouldn't try to hurt my feelings again." Mauga informs all of them.
One of their teammates meets Baptiste's eyes as if to say, Damn. Baptiste can't agree more.
The atmosphere is a little weird for a while, but Baptiste is one of the first to shake it off, starting up a conversation with his neighbor. The boundary is set - don't fuck with Mauga. Baptiste can work with that. He likes defined lines and rules. They help him feel comfortable, especially working in something like Talon.
Someone drags their unconscious teammate over to a booth and lays them in it so he's not in the way of other patrons. They're not animals.
Soon he's forgotten and everyone starts getting rowdier, swapping stories and ragging on each other. No one rags on Mauga, though.
Baptiste checks in with himself a few drinks later and realizes he has to take a piss. He looks over at the bathroom and sees three women standing in line. A quick decision is made. He smacks his teammate on the back and heads out of the bar, going to the side of the building into the alley.
He starts taking care of business and immediately spaces out. This night out was probably a good idea, but everyone's all pent up and it could still end badly. He's in it for the long haul, though.
There's the sudden murmur of voices as the side door opens and Baptiste turns his body slightly to save someone from seeing something they don't want to see. Heavy footsteps approach then, to Baptiste's sluggish alarm, start to slow as they come closer to him.
From the corner of his eye he catches the print of Mauga's loud Hawaiian shirt, immediately recognizing the gaudy flowers. Mauga sidles up to Baptiste's side, taking out his cock.
Baptiste has barely had time to glance away from it and process this information before there's a weight on his shoulders, making him jump. Mauga is leaning against him, arm casually draped around Baptiste.
"Hey buddy, having fun?"
Holy shit
Baptiste struggles to place exactly what is happening here. Is he hitting on him or just drunk? He saw him pounding back those drinks in every color of the damn rainbow. Baptiste finds he doesn't mind that much either way, though Mauga's presence carries considerable weight. He thinks of his teammate knocked out on the floor.
"Yeah, it's been a while. We usually come to this place whenever we're deployed here because it's the only one where no one bitches about the food." Baptiste shakes his head. "But if I'm being real with you? Not my favorite. No, I like a place on the other side of town. Best margarita I've ever had, hands down."
"Mmm, see now that sounds good. We should just bounce and go there. I love a well made margarita." Mauga laughs. It's a low, lazy sound that makes Baptiste feel some kind of way. It also makes it hard to tell if he's joking or not.
"I love being a tourist." He turns, face alarmingly close. "Next time for sure, huh? I'll go with you."
Baptiste's stream is starting to slow. It momentarily distracts him and then Mauga is leaning more heavily against him, talking near his ear in a confiding tone.
"You're alright, Baptiste. I like you. Let me tell you the most important thing you can know about me. You have my back and I'll have yours. Always."
Mauga's hand starts to squeeze at his shoulder. A slow, tight pressure. Mauga pulls back just as suddenly, the pressure gone from Baptiste's shoulder like a phantom.
"Good chat, buddy."
Baptiste is left reeling in his wake.
—
Their next mission is far more serious and far more sudden. They're called on a moment's notice and are on an airship heading to London before they're even briefed on what's happening.
They're the backup to a mission gone wrong. They need to get in and hold the place down while a person of interest is abducted. Someone important politically. Baptiste isn't sure what they did and he doesn't care. He listens closely and frowns when he hears just how much of a fight the target's men are putting up. It's going to be a rough one.
They're dropped in and immediately Baptiste is ready for a fight, eyes scanning the area as he readies his gun, finger on the trigger.
"This isn't right," someone mutters. "Shouldn't there be more of us?"
"Shut up," Captain Cuerva snaps just as they duck back from fire. "Mauga, you're up."
Mauga nods. "I'm on it, boss."
He hauls up his shield, starting forward with an aggression that frazzles the other side. It gives Mauga the opportunity to push forward enough to give them some leverage. The rest of the team quickly close in behind him, sniping the oncoming fire.
"Come on, boys, keep up with me!" Mauga calls out, clearly enjoying himself. They make their way deeper into the building, eyes open and tensions high. Baptiste follows close.
A man on a roof shoots at Cuerva and Baptiste raises his gun, taking him out before the man can fire accurately enough to hit him. They lucked out that it was some useless grunt. Cuerva meets Baptiste’s eyes then looks around carefully. He motions for them to continue.
The moment they step out they're under fire, but Mauga has them covered with his shield. Baptiste snipes with expert precision, expression calm despite the pounding in his chest. They’re woefully underprepared. Somewhere along the chain of command someone fucked up. They fight their way through the building but it's by the skin of their teeth.
Mauga's confidence, while not infectious, keeps them going. Baptiste finds himself looking to Mauga instead of Cuerva when checking their trajectory. Mauga isn't leading them wrong.
They get to a point where they have to go up a stairway. They're hell to do. Claustrophobic and things can go bad fast. Mauga doesn't flinch from the task though, effortlessly lifting the shield above his head as he checks for enemy fire.
There doesn't seem to be immediate danger.
"Let me establish my position then follow when I signal."
Mauga starts up the stairs, shield clenched tensely in his hand and at the ready. He's made it halfway up to the next floor when the door bursts open, the security detail pouring in, armed and ready.
It gets Mauga pinned in a tight spot and the rest without cover to join him.
"Shit," Cuerva hisses sharply. They've completely lost the tactical advantage in the brief time it had taken Mauga to reposition.
He motions for them to retreat and Baptiste stiffens. Mauga is dead meat out there. His eyes meet Mauga's. He can see in his eyes that they're on the same page about his chances. Saving him is a fifty-fifty gamble. Those aren't good odds.
"Baptiste!"
Bullets fly past and Baptiste starts to step back towards the others. A bullet dents his armor but doesn't pierce and it spurs him into action. He turns around and starts running back up the stairs towards Mauga, shooting with as much precision as the motion will allow.
"Baptiste!" Cuerva sounds furious and mortified, but they're already retreating.
Everything is chaos.
Baptiste hits a man in the face with the butt of his gun, using him as a shield as he makes his way towards Mauga. He has to go for it now. Baptiste throws the bullet filled man onto the floor as he dives forward, skidding on the ground and slipping past Mauga's shield.
The second he's with him he's rolling onto his back, sniping men from where he lays on the ground. Mauga’s shield is almost broken, he doesn't have much time, but he feels oddly calm as he focuses. The shots are cold and calculated. Baptiste never stops to think of them as people. It's how he copes. It makes him good at it.
His hand is steady as he takes out another man, shooting through his helmet, eyes burning with a focused intensity.
The shield is cracking and Baptiste feels a bead of sweat roll down his face. Something takes him out of his fierce concentration, out of place on his ear.
It's laughter. Mauga is laughing. Baptiste glances up and sees Mauga's hand tighten on the trigger of his machine gun.
"You ready Baptiste?"
He grins, expression fierce and alive. "Don't let me down, now."
The shield breaks but Mauga is already swinging his machine gun in front of them, bullets flying off in wild directions.
"Cease fire, cease fire!" Someone commands.
The bullets haven't fully stopped being shot before Mauga is swinging the heavy gun forward again, starting to shoot. The sound of gunfire echoes loudly in the stairwell, deafening, but Baptiste can still hear Mauga's laughter.
Baptiste cleans up anyone not immediately in Mauga's line of sight, the sound of gunfire abruptly ceasing. Baptiste's ears are ringing. Mauga is grinning, meeting Baptiste's eyes with such intensity it makes his stomach squirm.
"All clear," he calls out to Cuerva, eyes not leaving Baptiste.
—
The rest of the mission is honestly kind of a blur to Baptiste. He's hypervigilant after the incident and by the time they regroup with the A team the plan has changed from the higher ups probably three times. Baptiste gets the feeling more important things are happening higher up that are above even Cuerva's paygrade.
Maybe that's why they get sequestered off to a base on the outskirts of the city once they’ve finished their part. It's London, but you'd never know it with them crammed into the base. Their orders are to wait for the signal tomorrow. That's all.
This of course means that the boys are treating the tiny base like a fucking penthouse. It's stocked with food and when someone finds the alcohol their course is set.
"Don't get hungover," Cuerva snaps at a few of them who are pouring alcohol into a row of cups.
"Yeah, yeah, we won't," Doubleday reassures him in a flat tone.
Cuerva sneers a bit, but lets it be and leaves. And thus the party starts.
Someone gets music going on their phone and the boys gather around in the room full of steel bunk beds. Baptiste thinks a little dryly that Talon was skimping on space, but the thought washes away with a few drinks and a genuinely chill atmosphere.
Everyone's swapping stories that have Baptiste smiling, chuckling a few times. Mauga's always draw so much attention he gets sucked into one about some mission he'd done in Australia of all places. He really paints the picture and Baptiste can see him there fighting through the wasteland.
It's hard to follow up so that's when the drinking games begin. Most of them involve cards and losing money so Baptiste takes it as an opportunity to go get himself another drink and step outside onto the small balcony.
The safehouse is situated over a river and when Baptiste looks down at it he feels like he might fall over the railing and dive head first into the water. He shakes his head and takes a sip of his jack and coke. It's not the best, but the cupboards hadn't been stocked that well.
It's a peaceful night and Baptiste finds himself getting lost in thought, not quite sure how much time has gone by before the balcony door opens.
"Heeyyy," Mauga's low, lazy greeting curls itself around Baptiste. He comes to lean against the balcony, lighting up a cigar. Thick, slightly sweet smoke curls up into the air. "How's it going?"
Baptiste looks over at him, a little uncertain. They haven't spoken since he saved Mauga's ass. He responds easily enough, though, giving Mauga a little grin.
"Oh, just great. How could I complain? We're in paradise." He takes a swig of his drink. His mind won't leave the mission. "What a shitshow, huh? Glad we got out of there alive."
Mauga gives a reserved laugh, like it's more habit than anything.
"Yeah, you can definitely say that again." Then Mauga's arm is suddenly around Baptiste. He can smell the sweet hint of cherry in the cigar smoke when he's this close. "Listen, I'm only alive because of you. The rest of them were going to leave me to die."
Mauga pulls him closer, speaking to him like it's a secret. "You had my back today, Baptiste. I don't forget stuff like that. From now on I've got your back 100%. You keep having mine and no one will ever be able to touch us."
Mauga pulls back slightly to take another puff from his cigar, arm still around Baptiste.
Mauga's intensity sets off a warning in his head. Aggressive guys can be unpredictable. Dangerous. They can also be great in bed.
Baptiste laughs. "You've got it."
Baptiste's devotion to his team is a core part of himself. There's nothing bad about someone having his back. Baptiste swings his arm around Mauga and smacks him on the shoulder.
"You just keep absorbing those bullets and I'll keep you patched up." He grins up at him. Mauga's eyes are so focused it makes his stomach twist. Mauga's grin widens and he gives Baptiste a shake.
"You've got it, buddy. You and me. I've got a good feeling about it." He finally pulls back a bit, puffing at the cigar. "That being said, talk about harsh. Can't believe Cuerva was going to leave my ass."
Mauga grumbles but he doesn't sound that mad about it.
"Cuerva's cutthroat," Baptiste immediately agrees. "But don't be too hard on the guys. Cuerva's judgment is usually spot on. They defer to him and it usually works out."
To them Mauga had been dead the second Cuerva had made the judgment. They like Mauga just fine and probably already consider it water under the bridge without asking. "They aren't bad guys. They didn't see the opportunity I saw."
Mauga looks at him then grins.
"Hey, it's all good. No harm no foul," though Baptiste gets the feeling he won't forget it. "Not everyone can be you, the world would be too wonderful."
Mauga ribs him gently. "You're really good, by the way. I was impressed. My hero, I thought."
That makes Baptiste laugh. There really is part of Mauga that puts him at ease.
"Not all heroes wear capes," Baptiste says with utmost seriousness. He ribs him back. "Whenever you need saving just call for Baptiste."
Mauga smells good, he thinks. He wonders if he wears cologne. Mauga had also complimented him. Baptiste tucks that away, smiling to himself. "I'll snipe the shit out of them."
"Hehe, niiice," Mauga chuckles. "I trust you, buddy."
Mauga takes a few more puffs then carefully puts out the cigar.
"I'm heading back in. See you soon." Mauga gives him a small salute, pausing in the door way. Then he turns to look back at him with those intense eyes, seeming to pin Baptiste with them. "Baptiste. I appreciate it."
He gives him the slightest nod of the head before leaving Baptiste to his thoughts. They circle around Mauga for a while until he feels like he's tipping over the edge of the railing into the river. He finishes up his drink and heads back in.