Wheels Up (Out of Uniform 4)

“I will,” he said, because it was easier than arguing. “Now you go back in there, and then call me in a little while, okay? I’m sure you’re right that this is nothing new.”

“I love you, Wes.”

“Same.” His sinuses burned. Fuck. Why couldn’t he be there for them? Sammy had had a great year—graduating high school, going to Disney World with his folks to celebrate, the DJ gig, and no hospital trips. Why now?

Sighing heavily, he dug out a water bottle from his stash under the bed. He wasn’t going to sleep anytime soon, that was for sure, not until he knew what was up with Sammy. Aimlessly, he clicked around his phone, spending some time on the bomb-sweeper game Sammy had put on there as a joke. The news was no better at holding his attention.

He swiped over to chat. Maybe one of his buddies back at Little Creek was on.

Nope.

But hey... What was this? Dustin’s icon was lit for the first time since Wes had arrived at Coronado.

I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. He knew better than to go down this path, but the news about Sammy had him all jangled up.

You there? He typed before he could stop himself.

The reply was so slow in coming, he almost left the app, but then the screen flashed. Yeah. But we shouldn’t talk. You know that.

Yeah, Wes did know that. He didn’t want Dustin reprimanded or worse, didn’t want anything coming down on his own head either. It’s just talk. My clothes are on.

Dustin’s answer was faster this time. God, do NOT tell me what you’re wearing. Or not. But yes, just talk. I can’t go there on the other.

Wes smiled at that because Dustin wasn’t shutting him down all the way. I can respect that. And I shouldn’t have bugged you. Just having a hard time unwinding.

Being honest sucked, made his chest feel that much colder. Easy joking about who was wearing what was so much easier. Dustin’s reply buzzed while he was lost in the too-exposed feeling.

Sorry to hear that. Me too, actually. But, you were a freaking circus acrobat on the ropes today. Really impressive.

Wes smiled at that. Thanks man. This whole...adjustment is harder than I thought. But you’ve got some good men on the team.

Dustin took a while to reply, and Wes could picture him hunched over his phone, hunting and pecking at the keyboard, so he quickly typed. Voice? Easier than typing?

No. Dustin added a frowning face to the reply. If I flip on the cam, we’re going to end up jerking off. Don’t think I’m that strong tonight, sorry.

Wes hadn’t really expected that sort of honesty fromDustin and wasn’t entirely sure how to reply. Sorry I asked. I *do* understand. Hate this. But I understand.

Wes thumped his fist against the mattress. He really did hate it. They both needed release tonight, the kind they’d indulged in for over six months now. And it totally sucked that some stupid regulation was fucking up one of the best things in his life.

I should probably go, Dustin typed. But I want you to know that you’re doing great. You’re going to fit in in no time. Stick with Curly and Bacon and their crew. You’ll see—it won’t be this hard forever.

Wes’s throat felt like an old shrunken sweater. He didn’t want Dustin’s praise, didn’t want his understanding. And certainly didn’t want his goodbye. But it was all he had.

Dustin’s light dimmed on the chat screen, and Wes could almost picture him in the condo he’d never seen beyond the flashes on cam, all alone on a Friday night, on edge. He wanted more than anything to be there with him, rub his shoulders, get him to open up about whatever was stressing him, maybe tell him about the Sammy news.

But that wasn’t ever happening. He shut chat down with a series of vicious curses. The universe fucking sucked.

* * *

The chopper’s roar echoed the noise in Dustin’s head as they took off from the base to head for the desert.

“Nothing like the smell of C4 in the morning.” Bacon nudged Wes, who not exactly surprisingly was the most alert and engaged that Dustin had seen. “I can’t wait to see your magic, Lowe Man.”

“I’ve told you, Breakfast Side, that I don’t do nicknames.” Wes laughed, a sound Dustin had missed like crazy and hadn’t heard enough of around the team. “And I’m ready. Do y’all know yet what we get to blow up? Or are we defusing?”

It took Dustin a few to realize that Wes was talking to him. They generally didn’t speak to each other on duty unless it was required, which Dustin supposed this was. He forced himself to give the same evil grin he’d give anyone who asked. “It’s a surprise.”

“They given y’all any indication when we might go wheels up next?” Wes apparently wasn’t done trying to make conversation.