(no subject)

[nottheboss]

It's late at night. The corridors aren't quiet; they're full of men and women restlessly trying to sleep in their quarters. Bossie should be one of them. But instead he slips barefoot down the hallway to Carver's room, where he knocks.

"Hey, man, you up?"

Comments

[fortitudosalutis]

Even now, there’s a part of Carver that’s tempted to deny it. Dismiss it. Pope ought to be the one who claims the credit for all of them, right? The commander made them strong.

But God, there’s a part of Carver that needs to hear it. That needs so badly to believe he did something right and pure.

He swallows hard, petting at Bossie’s hair. “Yeah?” he murmurs so, so quietly. “I did that?”

[nottheboss]

"Yessir," he says, terrified but honest. "You did that. You made me think I could keep going when I wanted to give up. You made me think I could be the best when everyone else thought I would quit."

And here Bossie is, a sniper. A specialist. A master of his craft.

"Every hit I make is for you, sir."

[fortitudosalutis]

This is a sin, he thinks. Pope wouldn't like it. Would have shunned them both if he knew, maybe even tested them o ensure their loyalty held true. But there's an honesty here that Carver can tell Bossie's held inside himself for a very long time and that -

That's real, too, isn't it?

Carver breathes out slow and then leans in to kiss Bossie on the cheek. Gentle, like before. "You're one of mine," he murmurs. "Never forget it."

[nottheboss]

He nuzzles against Carver, breathing in, breathing out. "Always," he agrees. "Fortitudo Salutis."

He's bared a bit of his soul and he feels raw from it, but Carver hasn't pushed him away. "You're a good teacher."

[fortitudosalutis]

"Always," Carver agrees softly. Maybe he's too tired to think deeper about this, do what he ought to do, but he just sighs again and nuzzles against Bossie. Breathing with him, content with the pressure of this man and the kitten pressed against him. "Stay for a little?"

Just a little.

[nottheboss]

He smiles, stroking Carver's hair. "I'll stay till you kick me out," he promises.

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver huffs at him and then, playfully, bops Bossie on the nose. He didn't mind kissing Bossie, he realizes; he doesn't know what that means. It felt nice. It didn't hurt.

Maybe that's enough, for the moment.

"I'm sorry I'm all messed up right now," he murmurs. "'m glad you're here."

[nottheboss]

He grins, nose wrinkling a little at the touch

He shakes his head, no, he doesn't have to apologize. "I've got you," he promises, thinking maybe he didn't ruin anything after all. Carver wants him here.

[fortitudosalutis]

Kali grumbles, yawning and curling into herself. Carver cups his hand to her, feeling the rise and fall of her little rib cage. She’s so small, so fragile in many ways. But strong, he thinks. One day, she’ll be a fighter like Bossie.

Carver closes his eyes. “Maybe…one day, when I’m steadier, we can do a little more than kissing.”

[nottheboss]

He strokes Kali's little back, earning a little meow for the effort. "Yeah? You'd...you'd want to?"

[fortitudosalutis]

"I don't know," Carver admits softly. "Sometimes I think so. And then I have a bad dream and then..."

He and Pope collided just once. Only once. It felt good, like coming home, but it didn't stop the nightmares.

[nottheboss]

"I think, sometimes, the demons are just going to take us down one at a time. They got Mancea and Gabe...Austin, you." He frowns. "How do we fight them?"

[fortitudosalutis]

Quietly, secretly, Carver's afraid of that too. That the demons are going to work their way down the roster one body at a time. They're always sleeping in shifts now, doing their best to protect each other with sigils and planning, but he worries it isn't enough. They haven't found a way to win.

"I don't know," he admits quietly. "We're working on it. I promise, Bossie."

He's quiet for a long moment.

"You...haven't had any bad dreams?"

[nottheboss]

"Just the ones about Afghanistan." Which are bad. They always have been. "Nothing about the demons yet. But I stayed over with Austin. It's...bad." And he's seen now how it got to Carver, too.

[fortitudosalutis]

There are nightmares, and then there are nightmares. Carver breathes out slow, reaching up to run his fingers through Bossie's hair again.

"Austin any better?" he tries. "Even a little?"

[nottheboss]

He wishes he could say yes but he shakes his head slightly. "They really messed him up. Guess that's what demons do."

[fortitudosalutis]

"Oh," Carver replies, very softly. And it aches in him, all the ways he knows these things now. "Does anything help?"

[nottheboss]

"I think having his kid to wake up to helps. He's always better when he's around her. Does anything help you...?" The kitten, he thinks. The kitten seems to help.

[fortitudosalutis]

"Kali," he murmurs, smoothing his fingers over her back. "Austin gave me weed one time and that was pretty nice. But I can't take that anymore."

Not without going comatose for the rest of the day.

"Not much helps," he admits softly. "I try to stay busy. Only sleep when I'm exhausted."

[nottheboss]

"If Pope ever gives us days off again we'll get some weed, just smoke the whole day away," he murmurs. He'd do anything to get Carver to sleep the night through.

"Who's been watching your six at night?"

[fortitudosalutis]

"That'd be nice," Carver murmurs wistfully. "I could make all kinds of food..."

Good, hearty food. They could curl up with soft blankets and their kittens, listen to music. It could be nice.

"Mhmm. I rotate. Leah, mostly. Sometimes Pope, or Wash."

[nottheboss]

"I can watch, too." He wants to help. Anything, anything at all, to help.

He bumps his shoulder against Carver's. "Hey, you should teach me how to make those enchiladas you made."

[fortitudosalutis]

Carver nuzzles against him, sighing. "You wanna learn?" he asks curiously. "They're not hard. Just gotta mix things together, learn the timing."

He thinks Bossie could be good at it.

[nottheboss]

"I tried making them on my own. Got a recipe online, thought it looked like yours." He chuckles. "Nah, no, no way, it was awful. Can't get it to taste like yours."

He reaches up, stroking Carver's hair.

[fortitudosalutis]

Oh, Carver thinks, and he presses wordlessly into the touch. He always liked it when Riley played with his hair. It felt like coming home as it came back from the regulation cut, centimeter by centimeter.

It feels nice now, with Bossie. Even in a moment like this, when they're both exhausted and hurting.

"I'd like that," he admits. "Teaching you. I'll make you hot chocolate, too. Whatever you want."