Wheels Up (Out of Uniform 4)

Damn it. What now? Wes was in something of a hurry, and while he and Curly weren’t active enemies or anything, he still wasn’t exactly close to him. For reasons. Necessary reasons. “Yeah?”

“You heading out?” Curly’s gaze swept down Wes’s body, taking in the fact that Wes was more dressed up than usual—nice gray pants, blue shirt with buttons. It was a big night, not that Curly needed to know that.

“Yup.” Wes didn’t offer more explanation than that.

“Oh. Thought you might want to game with Bacon and me. But, you have a...good time.” Curly’s expression wasn’t readable, which set Wes on edge.

“Thanks.”

“I saw you, you know?” Curly’s tone was almost absent, like an aside, not the nuclear bomb to Wes’s solar plexus that it actually was.

“Oh?” He forced the word to come out level.

“Coming out of the late movie last week.”

Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck. They’d been so careful, only taking baby steps in the past month toward something other than rare, furtive meetings and late-night chats. The new sci-fi movie taking the country by storm was out though, and they’d decided to chance a midnight show out at the mall in the ’burbs. No PDA, just two guys who once knew each other enjoying a show. Nothing to see here, folks.

“So?” He stared Curly down.

“You looked...happy.” Curly’s face went soft and distant. “Really, truly happy. Don’t think I’ve ever seen that smile on you before. And... I just wanted to say, it’s a good look on you.”

Wes wasn’t sure if he was supposed to say thank you, so he merely nodded. “And?” Because there had to be an “and,” some trouble coming. They’d been braced for this, for months now.

“And nothing. That’s what I mean to say. I know I made some trouble for you before the lieutenant left, but that’s water under the bridge, right? I’m not going to say anything now. He’s out and you’re my guy, and you’re not gonna have hassle from me, okay?” Curly nodded earnestly.

All the air left Wes’s lungs in a huge whoosh of relief. “Good to know.”

“Heard you got approval for off-base housing.” Curly clapped him on the shoulder. “Good on you. I’ll miss gaming with you though. You’re always a better sport than Bacon.”

“I’ll be around.” Wes gave a sharp nod, still dealing with the dregs of adrenaline racing through him. “Not going far.”

He wasn’t moving in with Dustin—not yet, as they still had to play it safe, and cohabitating didn’t go along with pretending that they’d only recently struck up a friendship post-Dustin’s retirement. But being off base would give them more freedom as they felt their way forward. Wes had found a place with a pair of non-military roommates, neither of whom could give a flip what hours he kept. That would be nice.

“Good. Don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t,” Wes said, surprised that he meant it. He had a path forward now, one that he was dearly looking forward to, but he also had to continue to work with Curly, and looking over his shoulder for the past few months had not been pleasant.

Curly studied him for several long moments, considering. “You’re not re-upping, are you?” He shook his head sadly.

Wes hadn’t told anyone else that he’d already started the paperwork to get out in a few months when his enlistment ended. But seeing as Curly was being cool about one secret, maybe he deserved the truth here too. “Nope. Gonna take Bacon’s advice, get me some of that private sector cash,” he said lightly. “And I need to be closer to my family.”

“And it’ll make...things easier. Right?” Curly looked at him expectantly.

Wes considered. Fuck. What if Curly was having him on, trying to get him to admit to something... “Not sure,” he hedged, hoping like heck he wasn’t braiding his own noose here.

“I meant what I said. I’m not going to hassle you.” Curly gave him another sad look, the weight of the friendship they might have had between them. Collateral damage. Nothing about this past year had been easy. “Anyway, I won’t keep you. Have a...good night, man. Really. Mean that.”

Wes hoped he did. Had to trust that he meant it. And fuck, but trust was in short supply, especially with the stakes so fucking high. However, his gut, the thing that kept him safe out in the field, the thing that could predict an explosion or fizzle, said Curly was on the level. One less worry.

He walked away from the barracks, steps quicker now. He couldn’t be late. Despite it being over a year since he’d arrived in San Diego, he still needed his GPS to get to a central neighborhood, an unfamiliar house. Parking was tight, so he ended up down the street and around the block, which was probably for the best. Maybe the walk would settle him down.