Jensen considers certain parts of his life to be snapshots, like Polaroids to be taken out periodically when the memory wears thin, until it's just like he can taste popcorn and spit and semen spilt over so-recently bloody knuckles again.
Over these moments there's always a soundtrack of Van Damme and Willis, Gibson before he went crazy and started making movies about Christ. He can almost remember what point they're at when his tongue finds its way into Roque's mouth but Roque always tells him that he's wrong and Pooch won't watch movies with them anymore, so he can't be 100% certain about it.
Jensen thinks that it might have all started after a rough mission, fucked intel that even he hadn't been able to decipher in time, downtime enforced by splints and stitches, and a movie with too many explosions, if there is such a thing. He's said for years that all those demolitions must have gone to Roque's head but he didn't realise there was a certain amount of sexual fascination in the excitement, until there were painkillers involved.
Between a "motherfucking snakes" and a "motherfucking plane," Jensen learns that Roque tastes like blood, butter, and salt. Or at least he does on that particular Friday night. He blinks and takes a long pull from his beer.
"Roque, what the--"
"Shut up, Jensen. Jesus fuck."
They both turn back to the TV when something new explodes and Jensen takes note of the state of Roque's pants, which the man seems to be ignoring. The cripple falls asleep before Jensen can tease him about any of it but he makes plans for another movie night, probably featuring something on a submarine with a "lowly, lowly cook" and Tommy Lee Jones being a crazy motherfucker.
Roque is more mobile by the time Jensen is able to put his plan into action but the Captain hesitates on his way through the living room at the sound of an explosion and Jensen grins because the fish is hooked. He hides his smirk in his Red Bull when a moment later there's another body on the couch beside him.
"Fancy meeting you here," he can't keep from saying and laughs at the 'Fuck off' that he'd expected.
They slip into quiet as the movie goes on and Jensen is practically quivering with eagerness by the time the explosions start. As he swallows around Roque's tongue, he thinks that this is why his plans so rarely work, because he inevitably gets bored and jumps his target before the perfect moment (Cougar is currently not talking to him over a sniper scope that's at that moment soaking off a treatment of cookie dough, for exactly that reason). But this time it works in his favour because starting early just means there's more movie for him to kiss Roque through and Jensen is rapidly discovering that he likes kissing Roque, more than he expected to. There's something dangerous and wicked about it, which probably isn't helped by the fact that he isn't really sure where all of Roque's knives are.
They part at the credits and the Captain won't quite look at him. Jensen is on edge until the larger man tosses a movie into his lap nearly a week later.
"Put that in," is the order and, after a glance at the title, Jensen scrambles to obey. He hasn't seen RED yet and he looks forward to not seeing it now. Pooch wanders in when the credits start, sees Willis' name in the opening sequence and finds somewhere else to be, complaining loudly about them defiling the couch. Jensen just laughs when Roque mumbles something about extra PT for the mouthy mechanic and doesn't pull away from the wonderful things he's doing to Jensen's throat.