Tight Quarters (Out of Uniform 6)

“Good. We don’t need any of us getting all buddy-buddy with the reporter, right?”

“Yeah.” Bacon hoped his reluctance didn’t show in his tone. He wasn’t overly friendly now, but there on the bluff, telling him about Jamie, he’d felt something more than animosity. And in a way, that had him madder now. He’d let his guard down, and he wasn’t sure whether Spencer would take advantage or not.

“I talked to Donaldson. He’s going to try to can it with the wisecracks.” Curly was slightly out of breath—he was probably even more bushed than Bacon felt. It had been a long ass forty-eight hours, and the night was muggy and smelled dank, like a basement full of plants.

“Try isn’t as good as will.” Bacon frowned. “But thanks. And it’s not just him, you know? On the plane, no one was stopping him.”

“It wasn’t really offensive,” Curly protested. “Just him running his mouth.”

“It was to me,” Bacon said with a sigh. He hated that they needed to have this conversation. “I’m probably going to come out as pan to the team soon, and I need to know you’ve got my six, man. You staying silent when people are homophobic—even if it’s just a joke—fucking hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” Curly said quietly as they reached the building. “I’ll try—will—do better. And you coming out, that’s probably a good thing, yeah? That alone might silence some of it. And who knows whether someone else is also wondering whether or not to come out. Good role model and all that.”

“Yeah.” Bacon really didn’t want to be a diversity poster-child, but he also wasn’t sure how much longer he could quietly seethe.

“But you know, timing’s everything. Maybe not till after this mission, after we’re done with the reporter. You don’t need those rumors.” Curly clapped him on the shoulder.

“This isn’t about Spencer Bryant,” Bacon said firmly. “But you’re right. Waiting makes some sense. I’m not in some huge rush. Just fed up.”

“I hear you,” Curly said as they reached the closed conference room door. He knocked and the senior chief opened it.

“Oh good, Bacon. We need to brief you on what to expect tomorrow.” The senior chief ushered him into the room after dismissing Curly. The small, dimly lit room contained a large table covered in maps, with laptops open in front of the senior chief, XO, and LT.

“You got more for me to do? We’ve got to be shorthanded with Shiny down, right?” He couldn’t contain his eagerness. Now more than ever he was ready to be done with babysitting duty.

“Shiny’s fine. Concussion check was inclusive, and he says he’ll be good to go.” The LT waved away Bacon’s concern. “We talked about having him assigned to the reporter—”

“Excellent idea.” Bacon needed more distance from Spencer. Even as much as he wanted to keep an eye on him, he needed to outrun his rogue impulses before he did something stupid like kiss Spencer. Or even worse, talk to him more, share more than he should.

The LT frowned at Bacon’s interruption, and Bacon’s stomach clenched. He wasn’t going to like what came next. “But you’ve been doing good. He’s comfortable with you. And Shiny’s more...malleable. I trust you not to reveal the wrong thing.”

Bacon grimaced, not wanting to admit that that might have already happened. “Thank you, sir, but I’m sure—”

“I didn’t bring you here to argue. We’re all tired and ready to crash for the night. Sometime in the next seventy-two hours, we’re going to get the green light to go, and I want to make sure you understand what we’re doing. We wanted to talk to you without the reporter and his questions.”

“Fair enough.” Bacon took the seat the LT pointed at and settled in for what turned out to be a step-by-step overview of the mission as currently constructed. They were okay with Spencer knowing that they were looking for a terrorist cell, but the part they were keeping on the down low was that they were looking for signs that this terrorist cell had a biological warfare agent—the higher-ups didn’t want that reported on if possible. Tomorrow they’d be running through a few more mock-ups, waiting for word from the brass that it was go time, and the LT wanted Spencer both out of the way but with a positive experience to report on. Which made sense, even as Bacon chafed at the restrictions.

“You are going to give me a weapon, right? I can’t be out there with just my Ka-Bar knife or some shit,” he said as they finished up.

“Yes, you’ll have a weapon,” the senior chief assured him. “The risks of this operation are real, though, and I don’t care how many waivers he signed, your primary objective has to be keeping him safe.”

“Will do.” On that note, Bacon finally headed to bed. But once he finally got in the narrow bed, his restlessness returned. His usual go-to sleep aid of jerking off was out for a number of reasons. Curly was asleep, but Bacon still wasn’t going to do that with him mere feet away, and also, he didn’t trust himself not to think about Spencer. Once he could excuse, but twice would be a pattern and that he couldn’t do. So instead he tossed and turned all night, only to emerge bleary-eyed in time for breakfast.