Tight Quarters (Out of Uniform 6)

Love you forever. Spencer’s chest pinched. Del meant it flippantly, he knew. In fact, he could picture his sleepy, worn-out guy trying for humor, trying not to let on how much he needed him. And being needed like that did something for Spencer, made him feel warm and strong and filled him with energy.

He put fresh linens on the bed, set out his best towels and the shower gel Del loved, and made the tart along with a soup that would be easy to reheat. The plan he’d come up with a few weeks ago, the one in which he could have both Del and the book, loomed large over him. After a few weeks of working on the project, he was more convinced than ever how vital it was, and how his solution really was the best one for all of them. Now, he’d finally get the chance to talk. Reasonably. After Del had had his shower and food.

But when he opened the door that evening to Del, he instantly realized that talk-soon plan might not be feasible. Del looked like shit—dark circles under his eyes, sagging shoulders, dusty hair and skin. He hadn’t shaved in what looked like weeks, the stubbly beard making him look years older than usual.

“Oh, baby, come in.” Spencer enfolded him in a tight hug. Del dropped his backpack in the entryway and clung to Spencer. Knowing how much the shower always helped Del, he started tugging him that way, but Del stopped him with a desperate kiss, more a wordless plea than a romantic hello.

“Getting you dirty,” Del mumbled.

“Like I care.” Spencer held him closer. “But let’s get you in the shower, okay?”

“Okay.” Del squished his eyes shut and scrubbed at his shaggy hair. “Promise I’ll be human soon. Just...”

“You don’t have to be anything for me.”

“Yeah, but I gotta be something for me.” His voice broke, a sob racking his big body. Trying not to let on how alarmed he was, Spencer wrapped him up in his embrace best he could. He held Del while he silently cried and shuddered. Held him even after he stopped and his breathing slowed to big gulps of air. “Fuck. I hate this. I shouldn’t have come. Shouldn’t be unloading on you—”

“Yes, you should. I’m here for you. I want to be here for you.” Spencer had never meant words more. He wanted to be everything this man needed. “What happened? Did someone die?”

“Can’t tell you specifics. But no one on our team was hurt this go-around. Guess you could say mission was a success. I did my job, took the shots they needed me to take, but fuck some shots are easier than others, Spence. But I did it. And I held it together just fine until it was time to go home. Don’t know what’s wrong with me. I don’t usually fall apart post-mission. Not my MO. Just...this one got to me. It really did.”

Spencer could guess at a few scenarios that would provoke this reaction. “Targets were more...vulnerable than you were expecting?”

“Yeah.” He nodded sharply, considering Spencer through bloodshot eyes. “Something like that. Can’t tell you more. Sorry.”

“Quit apologizing. I understand.” He kept holding Del close. Held him close under the pulsing water when they finally made their way to the shower. Held him close in bed until he went boneless, exhaustion finally claiming his big body. Held him close while he slept, held him tighter when the nightmares came. There in the dark, holding Del, Spencer understood the true meaning of helplessness, and made all sorts of bargains with the universe if it would only guide him to do what was right for Del, what would help, not hurt.

Chapter Twenty

Bacon let Spencer take care of him because it was easier than fighting it, and because he’d been craving it, had driven toward it, and denying himself now felt pointless, not when Spencer seemed so understanding. So he slept in Spencer’s arms, let Spencer soothe him when he awoke to the dream about the mission. The LT had already warned him he’d be seeing the psych who often worked with their team. And Bacon knew what the psych would tell him—all the same things the LT had, that he’d done his job, that he wasn’t a bad person, that he shouldn’t feel guilty. And most of the time, he didn’t.

Except.

But.

His breathing hitched. Spencer had fallen back to sleep and he didn’t want to wake him again, so he forced his breaths to slow, willed his lungs to cooperate and calm down. This would pass. He’d been a green recruit once, had freaked like this after his first couple of times out. But then he’d settled into a routine, figured out how to make his peace with what he did in the field. Which usually worked.