Their Property (Four Mercenaries 3)

“Just enjoy the stars. See there?” Boar pointed up. “The Great Bear.”

Clover laughed. He couldn’t tell constellations apart, no matter how many times Boar tried to teach him “You’re a great bear.”

Boar had been through so much in captivity that to see him smile more with each passing day has become one of Clover’s life goals. He didn’t like to speak about it much, so Clover didn’t prod, but the past had left a mark on all of them, and they would have to live with that burden.

“It’s getting really cold, let’s go,” Boar said and when he led the way, Six ran after him with a happy bark, pulling on the leash.

Clover hugged Boar tightly despite it being awkward to walk that way. “I didn’t mean anything bad by it.”

“It’s not that. That name still brings back bad memories. I know I was the one to start talking about the constellation, but it just kinda hit me now.”

Clover’s chest sank, and he leaned closer as the puppy played at their feet. “It’s okay, babe. I get it. Some memories… they stay with us no matter how much we’d love to bleach them out.”

Boar pulled him closer and kissed the top of Clover’s head through the woolen hat. No words were needed for Clover to feel the depth of Boar’s support.

They walked back home in the strange darkness made so bright by the stars and moonlight. In the distance, the log cabin-style house made a pretty picture among the falling snow. Its bright, warm light contrasted with the cold aura, whispering to Clover of hot buttered rum and a soft fur rug by the fire.

Six skittered away into his covered bed as soon as they entered. Clover was freezing, but it was still preferable to having to put on layers upon layers of sunscreen every day, had they gone South instead of North.

“It’s so nice in here!” Clover exclaimed as soon as the pleasant warmth of the house hugged him in invitation.

The cabin they lived in was nothing as big and luxurious as Tank’s Oregon house had been, but its wooden walls were cozy and much, to Drake’s eye rolling, Clover and Boar had accessorized the living room with several plaid blankets, furry pillows and even a gigantic painting of a moose they’d gotten at Goodwill. Clover couldn’t wait to spend Christmas here.

Unlike the cabin in Wyoming, this one had an upstairs level, which Clover had reserved for him, Tank, and Drake. Pyro had to reluctantly agree to this arrangement, since he was still recovering from his leg injury, so climbing stairs wasn’t something he could do with ease. Clover loved nothing more than falling asleep while looking at the stars through the skylight, but sometimes he still spent the night squished between Boar and Pyro downstairs.

“It’s not nice! It’s cold!” Pyro complained from the living room. “Have you brought more firewood? Tank won’t let me use the supply from the shed since, you know, winter is coming.”

Clover snorted, pulling off his boots and eager to warm his feet by the fire. “Boar’s got it. Even Six brought a stick with him.” He walked into the living room to find Pyro in his favorite recliner, right under a deer trophy head—Pyro’s own addition to the decor.

Pyro’s hair wasn’t even an inch long yet, but he’d still shaved it into a Mohawk shape and colored it green. “You were gone so long. No one wants to make me a drink.”

“Jesus Christ! I’m skinning a rabbit here!” Drake yelled from the kitchen. “I don’t have time to make you drinks!”

Pyro raised his eyebrows. “See?”

Tank sat on their massive sofa in a grey woolen sweater. It was one he particularly liked because it was large enough to accommodate his immobilized arm. Clover could swear Tank was dangerously close to smashing the cast against the kitchen counter out of sheer frustration, even though only two weeks were left until its scheduled removal.

“You’re limping. You can limp to the kitchen and make your own damn drink,” Tank said and shook his head.

Boar smiled at Pyro and kissed his head in passing. “What do you want?”

“Wow me. And, Clover…? How about you give me a hand with more pressing matters?”

For a moment, Clover just stared when Pyro cupped his crotch. “Seriously?” He burst out laughing. “I mean, Tank really needs my hand, but you can handle it on your own.”

Pyro groaned and reached for Clover’s fingers. “No he doesn’t. His right hand is fine.”

Clover shook his head. If Pyro was up for it, so was he, but he’d make him wait. He walked up to Tank and gave his Daddy a long kiss to tease Pyro.

“Can I get you anything?” Clover asked, and stroked the cast. It was an everyday reminder of what they’d been through, and just how much they’d all risked for each other. The kind of trust and love that forged could never be broken