Off Base (Out of Uniform 1)

“So you just go giving up your dream job, the job that you spent all those years getting that PhD for, and you don’t tell me?”

“Sometimes dreams change,” Pike said. Zack’s eyes flickered as if he didn’t believe him, so Pike spoke faster. “Yeah, I wanted War Elf when I was in school. But my priorities have shifted. I want a home. A life. With you. And I want to teach. Not just as a stopgap or a way to make a buck, but because I’m damn good at it, and my students need me.” Over the past few days, he’d finally let himself believe that he could be good at teaching. Professor Reynolds didn’t sound quite as incredulous as it had the first few weeks. Turned out, Pike kinda liked who his professor self was turning out to be.

“I’m still due to get deployed next year sometime. You’re going to regret this when you’re alone for months—”

“No, I won’t. I’ll have my research—there are other games I’d like to study too—and I’ll have my classes and my friends. I want this life, Zack. The one I have with you. And I’m sorry I made you doubt that.”

“I want a life with you too, and I want you happy. Whether that’s teaching or War Elf or whatever. We could make the distance work.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want to try.” Pike tried to kiss the frown off Zack’s face, resulting in them both laughing and falling onto Pike’s bed. Pike pulled Zack closer for a deeper kiss, tongue reacquainting itself with Zack’s. Zack groaned and took over, holding Pike’s face between his hands, body hard against Pike’s. Hard. Oh yeah. They hadn’t done anything sexual all week, Pike wanting to give Zack space to recover, but Zack certainly was seeming fully functional right then.

“Hey...whoa.” Zack pulled away as Pike tried to go for his zipper. “None of that.”

“Your body says otherwise,” Pike rocked up against the ridge of Zack’s cock. “Didn’t the doctor say it was okay if you let pain be your guide—”

“It’s not that.” Zack’s ears went pink. “We need to go out.”

“Still not going to tell me where we’re going?” Pike reluctantly left the bed and finished switching clothes.

“Nope.” Zack’s smile looked a bit pasted on, but Pike didn’t call him on it, instead following him to the truck.

“Guess I shouldn’t ask if you feel up to driving?”

“I feel up to nailing you to the mattress as soon as we get back,” Zack retorted.

Pike was pretty sure that whatever actually transpired would be far less athletic than that, so he merely snorted. “Bring it on.” To his surprise, they headed in the direction of the base, not toward downtown. “Are we going to a sports bar or something?”

“Sort of.”

“Neither of us watches sports,” Pike pointed out. And I’m a bit too gay for any of the bars along this road. They’re probably all filled with people from the base and—

Whoa.

Wait.

“Zack. Are you taking me to a SEAL bar?”

Zack pulled into a place called Big Ted’s, parked the truck near a Dumpster that had seen better centuries. “Kind of.”

“As in the bar your team usually hangs out at?” Pike’s stomach jumped like it was full of crickets.

“Yeah.” Zack’s face was a mottled pink in the parking lot lights.

“And you’re sure about this?” Pike pulled Zack closer so he could look into his eyes. “You do not have to do this for me.”

“No, I have to do it for me. Come on.” And with that, Zack hopped from the truck, leaving Pike to collect his jaw from the floorboard.

* * *

Zack had been in Big Ted’s before—not often, but when he’d first joined the team, he’d tried to fit in and had followed Harper here a time or two. It was a generic sports bar—long U-shaped bar in the center of the space, lots of tables around the edges and TV screens all over. It smelled heavily of beer and fries and shouldn’t have been intimidating in the least, but as Zack walked in, his breath came in huffs like he was climbing Everest.

Typical Friday night, the place was crowded with clumps of SEALs playing pool on the tables behind the bar and groups of young women in tight clothing vying for their attention. The tables were mainly taken up by mixed groups of men and women, some clearly couples, others doing that first-date dance of awkwardness.

“We should get drinks,” he said to Pike, trying to convey a decisiveness he didn’t quite feel.

“You can barely tolerate more than soup. I’d stick to soda if I were you.” Pike leaned in to be heard, not as much as he would have at home, but enough that Zack felt as if an invisible spotlight was heading their way.

“I might need a shot,” he muttered.