He felt a tugging by his ankle and peered down to discover that Bacon had put a hand on him. He was ostensibly still asleep, but the fact that he was reaching for him made Spencer’s chest crack open, seldom-used muscles burning from the stretch of a suddenly too-big heart. He scanned the aisle but no one seemed to have noticed, most everyone else asleep. Leaning down, he gave Bacon’s hand a fast squeeze, wished he could give Bacon something more to hold on to.
As they were preparing for landing, Bacon roused himself back into his seat. “Fuck. I hate this. Waiting. And we’re probably not going to have any more news when we land. Depending on the level of shit hitting the fan, LT might not even be on base.”
“Tell me what you need from me. Need me to stick to my room so that you can go try to find out what you can?”
“Yeah.” He nodded sharply.
“I’m probably going to crash anyway. My body’s not used to this many hours awake, not like you guys. You won’t be lying if you say I’m sleeping.”
“Good.”
“But please do wake me up—even if it’s just because you want some company.”
Bacon’s face hardened and Spencer had a feeling Bacon would sooner take a hammer to his injured finger than admit he might need him. Or anyone really. He was such an intriguing mix of contradictions—the lone-wolf sniper who craved people and noise. The consummate warrior and the self-professed emo kid from Kansas. Even knowing it was a terrible idea, Spencer wanted to know all those sides, wanted to see the parts Bacon didn’t usually show the world.
Something had changed out there, the hours on the island and in the boat. Spencer wasn’t so fanciful as to call it bonding, but they’d gone through an...experience together. All he knew was that somewhere out there he’d come to care about Bacon, as in become deeply invested in his well-being, and he wasn’t at all used to feeling like this.
When they landed at the forward base, Bacon walked him silently to the barracks. It wouldn’t have taken much for Spencer to invite him in, give him what comfort he could offer, but Bacon was curt in his goodbye, hanging back, almost like he was worried Spencer might reach for him. “Get some rest.”
“Will do.” Spencer really didn’t know what else to say, didn’t know what else to do other than strip off his dirty clothes, take a tepid shower, and collapse on the bed. He was so exhausted he couldn’t even make himself jot down his notes on the mission, which he needed to do before too much longer. He wasn’t aware of falling asleep, but clearly he had because he was awoken by a knocking at the door.
“Coming.” Although his pulse sped up at the notion that it could be Bacon, Spencer scrambled into a pair of pants because greeting him naked was a little forward even for him. And he was more than grateful for his forethought when he opened the door to find a haggard-looking LT at his door.
His back muscles tensed. He knew what was coming even before the LT spoke. As usual, the man didn’t mince words, and despite what had to be total exhaustion, was as commanding as usual. “I can’t tell you what you happened. But your time with us needs to come to an end, effective immediately. I’ve already spoken to PR.”
And for a rare occasion, Spencer was at a loss for words, his only coherent thought, What about Bacon? But he knew better than to voice it, instead pushing down the sick dread that he might never see the guy again.
* * *
Bacon had been worn out like this before, but it never got easier, pushing through the exhaustion. After dropping Spencer off, he headed to medical, dozing in their spartan excuse for a lobby while waiting for someone, anyone who could give him news. Last the boat crew medic had been able to tell him, two SEALs had bullet wounds, one was in critical condition, with a good chance of not making it. But the medic hadn’t had names to go along with that terrible update, and Bacon was left to bargain with the universe for it to not be Curly. Not that he wanted it to be anyone.
“Bacon.” The senior chief shook his shoulder. When Bacon would have leaped to his feet, he pushed him down gently before taking the seat next to him. “Heard from the flight crew that you might be here.”
“Sir. What happened?”
The senior chief rubbed his eyes. His face was even ruddier than usual. “Still not sure. They seemed to have known we were coming. Feels like it was a trap. They were heavily armed, with about double the amount of tangos we were expecting.”