Sailor Proof (Shore Leave 1)

“Of course you did.” Charmed, I queued it up. This time instead of water being the common theme, the songs all centered on driving and roads.

“I think you purposefully chose things I might know,” I said several songs later after we’d both harmonized our way through some road trip classics.

“Guilty.”

I liked this, liked the way he’d thought about me and guessed right, liked hanging out and singing with him, even liked being the passenger more than I’d thought I would. By the time we stopped for gas, I’d stopped being antsy to drive and was actually surprised at how fast the time had passed.

“Your turn to drive,” he said while I paid at the pump with my credit card. “You still sure you want to burn all the extra gas going the long way back?”

“I don’t mind extra drive time. I don’t get enough chances to take the car out, and I’ll take the extra time with you.”

“If you need someone to exercise the car next time you’re away, let me know.” He was lounging against the car and his voice was casual, but I still tensed.

“Will do.” It meant something that he’d offered, that he seemed to think we might still be together or at least friendly through my next deployment. Luckily that was likely a ways off because I was less than certain how he’d cope with that separation.

However, I wasn’t about to ruin our drive by dwelling on that topic, and as we got back underway with me driving, I made a concerted effort to keep the vibe light, telling Arthur more stories about Grandma’s friends. Swapping stories and singing along with his playlist served us well, including for the wait for the car ferry until we approached the northeast Seattle neighborhood where Arthur lived.

His demeanor markedly shifted as we started navigating the city streets. “I probably should have warned the roommates I was bringing someone back.”

“Oh?” It hadn’t occurred to me that he might not be out or might have roommates who would be less than accepting, but I probably should have considered the possibility before inviting myself over. “Is it going to cause issues for you?”

“I didn’t mean the boyfriend factor.” Grabbing his phone, he typed quickly on it. “They’ll find it hilarious that I found someone to put up with me. I meant more that I can’t guarantee they aren’t having a video game marathon in their underwear.”

“Consider me forewarned.” I could deal with those sorts of nerves much easier, and while we were at a red light, I gave him a fast pat. “And stop being so nervous. You forget that I squash in with a hundred guys for weeks at a time.”

“I know.” He shifted around in his seat as I finally found an acceptable parking spot. “I just... I want you to like spending time there. Like really like it.”

“You’re there. I will. Promise. And even if your roommates are the most obnoxious dudes on the planet, I’d still want to spend time with you.” Unbidden, my vision of the little blue house and his dream of a music studio crept back into my head. I wished I could give him a situation he liked better than this one. I’d be fine hanging out with him wherever, but I wanted him happy, like truly happy. As I handled paying for the parking, I sent up a quick wish that maybe I could be the one to make him that way.

We made our way to his apartment building, an eighties-era tan collection of apartments and townhomes on a tree-lined street, not far from the hustle of the bigger streets. Arthur’s place was a typical three-bedroom setup with white walls, beige carpeting, and teeny kitchen with newer cabinetry but cheap appliances. And two rather gawky roommates who were indeed playing some game on a large, wall-mounted TV in the living area. But they were clothed and pleasant enough.

They paused the game to chat with us, but I kept getting distracted by the catchy tune of the game music.

“What game is this?” I asked.

“It’s not released yet. We’re beta testing it for friends. But Arthur did the music.”

“Oh? It sounds amazing.” I smiled at Arthur, enjoying the way he blushed and dipped his head.

“Thanks. How about I give you the rest of the tour?” Glancing down the hall, he seemed eager to escape the scrutiny of his friends.

“Sure.” I waited until we were away from the seating area to lean in and whisper, “Show me your room first.”

“This way.” He led me to the room at the end of the hall. All that time in the car had been nice, but it had also been hours since I’d kissed him, and I needed to rectify that at once.

“See?” I said as he closed the door. His room was cluttered with dozens of instruments, an impressive computer setup along one wall, and a small bed that was going to be a tight squeeze, but I was still game to try. “This place is nice. Lots of light. And meeting your roommates wasn’t so bad.”