Nobody knew how Jensen had managed to score Glastonbury tickets. They’d been sold out for months and were changing hands on the internet for hundreds of pounds each. But somehow, he managed to miraculously acquire five of them.
The Losers didn’t often find themselves in the UK but this time they’d been seconded to train with an SAS unit for a few weeks. Naturally, Jensen couldn’t pass up the chance to hit the biggest music festival since Woodstock.
“Tickets, Clay,” he waved them in front of Clay’s nose. “Glastonbury tickets, smell ‘em.”
“Yeah, so?” Clay grunted.
“Glastonbury, Clay.” Jensen actually put his hands on his hips. “Are you so old you don’t even know what it is?”
“I can make you clean British military bathrooms with a toothbrush, Corporal,” Clay smiled.
“This is true,” Jensen adopted a slightly more respectful expression. “Can we go, Clay? Can we, can we, can we?”
“Are you actually twelve or just doing a frighteningly good impression of it?” Roque asked in amazement.
“I’m young at heart,” Jensen shrugged, then added, “Sir.” He looked back at Clay with a bright smile. “So, Glastonbury?”
Clay glanced at Roque. Roque rolled his eyes but grinned.
“Fine,” Clay growled. “I’ll swing it so that we get a day off.”
Jensen fist pumped the air.
Roque dropped his head into his hands. “We’ve got a teenager for our tech op.”
“But a teenager with Glastonbury tickets.” Jensen bounced on the balls of his feet. “This is gonna be great.”
“Better be,” Clay said warningly. “If I end up sleeping in a tent in two feet of mud surrounded by stoned Brits, I will personally strip you naked and let you try to escape the SAS in the Welsh mountains, are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Jensen replied, his grin slipping slightly.
“Get out of my sight, then, Corporal,” Clay said.
The main stage at Glastonbury was quite a sight, even Clay had to admit it. Pooch and Jensen were bouncing with hyperactive excitement.
Cougar was his usual inscrutable self but was attracting a lot of attention from the festival-going women. Jensen narrowed his eyes as yet another girl sidled into Cougar’s space and attempted to engage him in conversation. Cougar politely removed her hand from his arm and moved a step closer to Jensen. The girl looked between them, smiled regretfully and walked away.
“Who’s playing next?” Roque asked, with his height advantage, he could see over most of the people in front of him.
“Band called Feeder, I think,” Pooch replied.
“Never heard of ‘em,” Clay said, treating a nearby woman to one of his best roguish smiles.
“They’re good,” Jensen put in, rubbing his hands together.
At that moment, music wafted out over the crowd. Jensen grinned delightedly at Cougar. “See? Told you this would be awesome.”
Cougar nodded, his eyes on the stage.
‘Feeling the moment slip away...’ Feeder were as good as Jensen promised.
“I know this song,” Cougar said.
“One of their best,” Jensen nodded knowingly.
Even standing ankle deep in British mud was made better by the music and electric atmosphere in the crowd. Cougar switched his attention between the band and Jensen, who was now singing along.
‘Am I just like you? All the things you do...can’t help myself...’
Jensen’s eyes were shut and he had a blissful expression on his face. For the first time Cougar understood the whole festival mentality. For a moment he was just a guy, standing in a field with his best friends, watching a band. He adjusted his hat and shuffled closer to Jensen.
“This was a good idea.”
“I’m a genius, bro, didn’t you get the memo?” Jensen cracked one eye open and grinned.
“Want to share my tent later?” Cougar smiled back.
Jensen laughed and stopped singing. “Definitely.”
As it turned out, Clay was the one who kept his camping neighbors awake most of the night by having noisy sex with various women.
Cougar and Jensen stayed quiet and nobody was any the wiser as to what went on in their tent.
“Glastonbury rocks,” Jensen said drowsily when they’d both exhausted themselves.
“Si,” Cougar agreed. “Rocks.”
They fell asleep but woke half an hour later to the sound of high-pitched female gasps as Clay apparently went for round three.
“How does he do it?” Jensen groaned. “I hope I can still get it up that often when I’m his age.”
“I hope you can, too,” Cougar mumbled. “Go sleep.”
Mercifully Clay fell silent not long afterward and Jensen drifted off to sleep with Feeder still playing in his head.