“A plan?” Dustin reached for his drink. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear this, wasn’t sure he was ready.
“Yeah. I knew if it was too soon after DC you’d think I was some kind of stalker. So I figured to wait some time. Get you more comfortable telling me which marine installation you were at. Then if it wasn’t too far, maybe we’d...” Wes trailed off and shook his head.
“We’d what?” Much as Dustin’s chest was burning, he needed Wes to finish the thought.
“And maybe we’d do the in-person thing. Not just a repeat of the DC hookup, but a real...friendship. See each other on the regular, even if still on the down-low. See where things went.” Wes looked away, eyes not meeting the camera.
“Yeah,” Dustin said hoarsely. God, that sounded nice. Dustin didn’t have to work to imagine that universe—different branches of service, maybe a few hours apart, seeing each other on little weekend getaways. Keeping it quiet because Wes understood that Dustin wasn’t about to make radical changes overnight, but having Wes in his life as more than just an image on the screen. And it wasn’t just the sex in that little daydream that had his pulse racing—it was waking up with Wes, taking him to all his favorite spots, make him hate this coast less, learning more about him as they went. Having that time together to look forward to. He wanted that so badly his sinuses stung like he’d inhaled half the pool.
“Anyway, it was a stupid plan.” Wes shrugged, eyes still guarded. The screen flickered, and Dustin resisted the urge to grab for the phone, hold the image of Wes closer, like that might make a fucking difference.
“Not stupid,” Dustin whispered. “Man, I wish...” He stopped because wishes were stupid. “I thought about similar. Asking for a DC repeat. But we didn’t know. And for that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have let you think I was Marines. Not this long anyway.” He could own his mistakes. And he had been thinking the past month about a repeat, more than he wanted to admit. Had even looked up DC airfares and his leave balance.
“We never would have had DC if we’d been honest,” Wes said pragmatically. “And I don’t want to give that memory back.”
“Me either,” Dustin admitted. “But you know we can’t ever go there again. Can’t even be friends. Not like you...like we want.”
“I know. Trust me. I don’t want you in trouble.” Wes’s voice had a note of anguish to it that made Dustin’s chest ache. “Looked up the stupid policy on my phone the second I was alone today. Now that you know I’m enlisted...”
“Yup.” Dustin took another swallow of scotch. Fuck. This sucked. And he appreciated that Wes was keeping his voice low. If the barracks rooms were similar to the officers’ quarters, the walls and closed door would muffle their conversation, but still couldn’t hurt to be discreet when talking about the possibility of court martial or suspension.
“You got some of that to share?” The ghost of a smile teased Wes’s mouth.
“I wish,” Dustin said without thinking. God, he did wish that. Wished Wes was sitting next to him on the big couch. Close. Legs touching. Getting drunk and commiserating on this clusterfuck together.
“Fuck. This sucks.” Wes slumped back against the pillow. “So what do we do? I mean, I can do the play dumb about knowing you bit.”
“Likewise. And...” God, this next part killed. “We shouldn’t chat anymore on here and definitely no more cyber.”
“I knew you were going to say that,” Wes groaned.
“It’s for the best,” Dustin lied. This wasn’t for the best of anything other than his career. “This way you’ll have time to settle in. Make friends. I can...” He’d been about to offer to list some bars or people for Wes. But he couldn’t do that. Couldn’t go offering to be Wes’s tour guide to San Diego, much as he might want. Couldn’t offer to put him in touch with some other LGBTQ friends he knew on base as resources. Couldn’t do anything more than he’d do for any other new subordinate. “You’ll find things to do,” he finished lamely.
“I kinda want to hate you right now,” Wes whispered, voice strained. “I thought you’d be the best part of this fucking transfer. Same time zone at least.”
“Does it help if I hate me too?” Dustin laughed, but he wasn’t joking. He thought back to every argument he’d had with his dad and grandpa about navy versus marines. And for the first time, he almost wished he was an enlisted marine. So much fucking easier than this tightness in his chest, this weight of his commission pushing down on his shoulders. And man, he wanted to be that best thing for Wes—wanted to be there to keep him up when he couldn’t sleep, wanted to be the thing he looked forward to on off duty hours, and the unfairness of it all made him need to thump the couch cushion hard with his fist.