At Attention (Out of Uniform 2)

Apollo stared at Dylan. Like really looked at him, maybe for the first time. Not in the guilty, I-shouldn’t-find-you-so-attractive way nor in the you-look-like-a-memory way, but in the who-are-you way because maybe all this time he’d been seeing an assumption and not a real guy. Broad shoulders and sturdy torso, he packed the muscle on. No one would accuse him of being skinny anymore. Hardworking hands and ropey forearms. He could make it through boot camp, no issue. Light brown hair with curls that looked like Dylan had scrubbed at his head, probably while trying to get the girls to listen. Tired blue eyes. Strong jaw. Obstinate tilt to his chin. Adult. Absolutely 100 adult, all traces of the kid Apollo once knew gone.

“You’re right,” Apollo said slowly. “Zack’s your age. Doesn’t bug me when he drinks.”

“Is it because he’s a SEAL and I’m just the babysitter?” Dylan still hadn’t backed down. Man, he was something when he got all fired up. Fearless the way he just lit into him—few would dare that.

“No.” Apollo leaned against the counter. “It’s more that I feel responsible for you—”

“Well, stop.” The microwave dinged and Dylan took Apollo’s plate out, set it on a pot holder. “Here’s your dinner.”

“Thanks.” Apollo took the plate. God, he really was a first-class grump these days. “I’m sorry, okay? I was rude. It’s just...my girls...”

“They’re everything to you. I get it.” Dylan’s tone was far gentler now, and he patted Apollo’s arm. “But I’m here to help, okay? Make things easier on you, not harder.”

“You do.” Apollo gestured at his food. “Making me a plate was nice. And you didn’t have to clean.”

“Hey, you make it easy. I just follow your system.” Dylan gestured at the binder that Apollo’s mom only grudgingly ever opened. Even Neal, disloyal as it felt to think about it, had scoffed at some of Apollo’s methods.

“You don’t think I’m too... I don’t know...anal?”

“You really want me thinking about you and anal in the same sentence?” Dylan’s grin was utter mischief.

“You know what I mean.” Apollo resisted the urge to tell him to behave and took a bite of his food instead.

“Yeah. I know what you mean. And no, I don’t think you’re too organized. I love it, actually. My parents, God love them, are great people but they’re both so into their careers. Nothing at Mom’s house has a place, and Dad’s always running late and losing shit. I tend to get all scattered myself. I like having your system to follow. It’s like on the soccer field—I like improvising, but I also like when coach calls a play, and I know what spot to get to.”

“My mom’s a lot like your parents—doesn’t see the need for my system.” Apollo liked how Dylan had called it that, like it was a positive. “But my dad was always into cleaning and everything being in its place. One of the few things I remember about him.”

“That’s awesome. You’re carrying his legacy on, one label at a time.” Dylan laughed and took a swig of his beer.

“That’s one way to put it.” Apollo sighed and tried to focus on his food. Thinking about his dad these days always led to thinking about Neal and whether Apollo was doing enough to keep him alive for the girls.

“Well, I’m going to put the broom away and head upstairs. Enjoy your food.”

Hell. Apollo had let the conversation lag longer than was polite. And strangely, he didn’t really want to be alone in the kitchen with his dinner. He liked having Dylan around, even when he was challenging Apollo. Maybe especially when he was challenging him.

“Hey, Dylan?” Apollo stopped him as he put the broom back in the pantry. “What do you usually do at night?” Why didn’t he know this already? It had been over a week, and most nights, Dylan slipped off to his room after dinner. When his mom was there, she had often done the same thing, heading back to watch her B-list celebrity reality shows in her room. Apollo’s back tightened. Being alone all the damn time got old.

“You have awesome Wi-Fi.” Dylan grinned at him. He took Apollo’s now empty plate from him, added it to the dishwasher. Man, he was so damn good at anticipating Apollo’s next move like that. “I usually watch a show on my tablet. Sometimes I play War Elf with some friends from home. That sort of thing. Why?”

Why this felt like such a huge deal, Apollo couldn’t say, but his pulse suddenly sped up. “I’m too keyed up to sleep yet. Would you want to watch something together?”

“Absolutely.” Dylan brushed by him, heading to the living room. He grabbed the controller from the high shelf where Apollo hid it from the girls. “What do you usually watch?”

“Uh.” Apollo struggled to keep up, taking his usual seat on the far side of the sectional. Dylan came and sat right next to him, ignoring the recliner and other chairs in the room. “Not reality shows. And nothing like CSI—no crime shows.”