Latakia by J. F. Smith
“And why is there a dirty pair of boxer shorts sitting in here? On a plate, for God’s sake!” Matt was getting seriously close to hiring a nanny for Petey.
Petey hollered, “Oh yeah, I know you’re into that shit, so they’re for you. I wore ‘em three or four days in a row while we were training. Enjoy!”
Matt picked up the boxer shorts and shoved them down into the trash bag. He decided to not even ask about the dried-up condom he spotted on the floor next to the trash bag.
Back in the living room, Crank slid down off the sofa to take Matt’s place.
“Good!” said Petey. “Someone with a little bit going on! Crank, if I win, I get to arm wrestle you.”
Crank frowned and said, “Hell no! No fucking way! You’ve been drinking and Matt’s got you wound up. I know what your ‘arm wrestling’ turns into. Even worse, you’re not wearing any underwear. No fucking way I’m getting all tied up in that shit tonight! You hear me? I swear to God, Petey, keep your hands to yourself!”
~~~~~
Matt lay in bed, unable to fall asleep. His mind had been spinning for probably over an hour now. He had started out thinking about Travis, wishing he was with him, but also thinking a lot about that slight distance that Travis seemed to be keeping in place. But it wasn’t just that. He had been stewing over Petey’s comment earlier in the evening, too. Petey dished that kind of shit out to everyone, so it wasn’t anything personal about Wasp. But still, Petey could cross over a line sometimes, and this one bothered Matt. He couldn’t decide if he should get in the middle of it, or butt out.
Matt figured he wasn't actually a part of the platoon, despite how well he had gotten to know the guys. On the other hand, he cared about them, especially Petey and Wasp. But, realistically, it wasn't his place to try and "fix" anything about these men, or between them. He didn't really fully see the total context of how they were around each other. There were boundaries around his place among them that he should probably pay heed to. He told himself he needed to just butt out.
Which is why, a few minutes later, he was pushing himself right in the middle of it.
Matt started poking at Petey next to him, trying to wake him up. “Petey! Get up!”
Petey didn’t budge. Matt learned a while ago that he could make all the noise he wanted to in the room with Petey sleeping, and he wouldn’t wake up. But let there be the tiniest sound that wasn’t supposed to be there, and Petey would be instantly wide awake. Even in a dead sleep, Petey had this crazy sixth sense about sounds around him.
The second time Matt had stayed at Petey’s place, he woke up in the middle of the night, only to see a naked Petey calmly loading a magazine into one of his personal handguns, a big one. He had asked Petey what the hell was going on, only to have Petey shush him while he looked out the bedroom window. Petey had heard a noise outside that wasn’t supposed to be there, and was instantly wide awake. It had turned out to be a false alarm, though; Petey’s neighbor, three apartments down, had gotten locked out of her place in the middle of the night and she and her boyfriend were getting back into the apartment through the bedroom window. Petey had heard them, several apartments over, while he was in a deep sleep.
Matt shoved hard on the big, worthless lump next to him. He practically shouted, “Come on, you red-assed hillbilly! Get your white-trash-ass up!”
Nothing. Matt scratched at his head for a few seconds.
Petey hadn’t gotten that drunk while playing video games, and it shouldn’t be this hard. He turned sideways and put his bare feet up against Petey’s side and pushed as hard as he could. He yelled, “Peter Andrew Tuttle, wake the FUCK up!!!”
He finally shoved all 215 pounds of Petey right out of the bed. Petey landed on the carpet and dirty clothes next to the bed in a dull thud, taking the sheets with him. But at least it finally woke him up.
“Dammit, Matt! What the hell is the matter with you? What the fuck do you want?”
Matt said, “We gotta talk.”
Petey groaned on the floor next to the bed. “Christ, Cornhole, you woke me up in the middle of the night so we can fucking talk? You are the only bitch I sleep with that I don’t fuck.”
Petey stood up and said, halfway between asleep and aggravated, “Start talking. I’m taking a piss, and when I’m done, I’m going back to sleep whether your whiny vagina has had its say or not.” He headed towards the bathroom.
Matt glared at him as he left the room.
“You stepped over a line with what you said to Wasp tonight.”
The light in the bathroom flipped on and Matt could hear Petey say, “Shit, you’re not really gonna start in on this bullshit are you? Wasp needs to suck it up and take it like a man, or get out.” The sound of a stream of piss hitting water made its way back into the bedroom.
Matt said, “This isn’t about Wasp, though, dickhead. It’s about you.”
Petey didn’t reply, but the piss stream continued unabated.
“Everyone expects you to be the hard-ass,” said Matt. “But there’s a difference between being tough, and being cruel. No one’s going to see you as weak if you respect the difference.”
Petey had finished taking his leak and stepped back into the bedroom, his naked body illuminated by the bathroom light. His face had that hard edge it almost always carried.
“Fuck you!” Petey said. “You don’t know me! That has nothing to do with what’s going on. If Wasp, or any of the guys, can’t take a fucking joke, then they can kiss my red-headed ass.”
Matt gave the hard edge look right back to Petey. He wasn’t about to let him off the hook with this. “Petey, save your bullshit for everyone else. I expect more from you than this. You’re not this clumsy. You’re not this person. You gotta respect that there’s a fine line here.”
“If you think I’m gonna start holding his damn hand, and telling him it’s all gonna be ok, and that he’s just a swell guy, then I must have had you too tight in too many headlocks,” said Petey. “That shit ain’t happening!”
“I’m not asking you to baby him. Or me. Or anybody. There’s being tough and hard, like you are, and there’s being stupid and clumsy. Learn the goddamn difference!”
Petey started to say something, but then stopped. He continued to glower at Matt.
Matt continued, “I expect more from you than this, Petey. Give me more than this, or you’re not the person I thought you were. You know I love you, you asshole, and you’re better than this. You’re my brother. I know you, Petey. I know you.”
Petey kept glaring at Matt, leaning against the doorway to the bathroom. He held like this for a long time, and then in the half light from the bathroom, Matt thought he could just barely see a shift in Petey’s expression. Petey spoke, and for the first time ever, Matt got the unmistakable impression that Petey was choosing his words very, very carefully, and the edge in his voice had dissipated just a little.
“You sure this is about me?”
Matt said coolly, “Yes, Petey. This is about you.”
Petey stood there, his face set in the same stone-like expression, but his gaze drifted off to the side a little bit. After what felt like forever, Petey looked down at the dirty carpet in his bedroom, his running shorts crumpled up at his feet. He reached back into the bathroom and turned the light off.
He walked back over and sat down on the edge of the bed, his sharply defined back towards Matt. Matt couldn't see Petey's face and couldn't tell what he was thinking, but Petey sat like that for several long moments. Without looking back, and almost poking Matt in the eye in the process, Petey reached back behind him and rubbed around on Matt's head for a moment. Matt had been about to keep pressing Petey on it, but decided to let it go instead, a little relieved that Petey wasn't mad. Petey pulled the sheets back onto the bed and got under them. He said, “Move over. You keep hogging the whole damn bed.”
Chapter 35 – A Tiny Handful / Lost At Sea
Maybe it’s just my gay-bitch side, but, God, I love lying here with
The thought swam lazily through Travis’ mind, following the same path in his head that Matt’s finger was absently playing out on his chest as they lay together in his bed. He didn’t think it was the margaritas from earlier talking… he felt like this about almost anything he did with Matt. Matt was the calm, normal, safe bedrock in Travis’ very dangerous world. And Christ, he never realized exactly how much he needed that until Matt showed up.
He said to Matt, “I’m glad you put your foot down with Petey so you could stay here with me tonight.”
Matt said, his breath and dark chestnut goatee tickling the hair on Travis’ chest, “I’ve stayed with him plenty of times already. I actually told him if he wanted me to keep on sleeping with him, he’d better put a damn ring on my finger.”
Travis grinned to himself. Matt had no idea the charmed life he had with Petey. He had seen Petey break bones for someone saying far less than that to him. Early on, he had not been totally honest with Matt about how hotheaded and, frankly, dangerous Petey could be if provoked. But that was because he didn’t want Matt to back down from him. That had worked out better than he ever imagined it would, but he still felt a little bit guilty about it. Now it just seemed stupid to try and explain it to him. Matt probably wouldn’t believe him at this point, anyway. But that was just because he didn’t know the charmed relationship he had with Petey.
Other people had to watch what they said around Petey because of his volatility. He had seen him get in a fight with some UFC champion fighter out in San Diego one time, outside of a bar. The guy had made some stupid crack about Petey’s hair being the color of Cheetos, and before anybody could react, the dude was on the ground with a broken arm and Petey’s knee in his back almost snapping his spine, the guy screaming in agony.
Hell, two of the hash marks on the stock of Petey’s M4 were for killing guys with a single punch each. One a Somali pirate on a hijacked cargo ship, the other a Taliban creep that had caught them by surprise. These idiots had made the mistake of getting within three feet of Petey, and wham! One hard fist, right in the face, and they were roadkill. Even the most experienced SEALs in DEVGRU would think long and hard before taking on Petey in close combat.
It had been Petey's and Baya's idea to make Matt an honorary member of the platoon after the capture of Al-Hashim. The whole platoon had voted to include Matt this way, with only Wyatt balking at the idea of giving this kind of respect to a "faggot." But after Petey asked him when was the last time he had actually done as much for the team as Matt had in helping to capture Al-Hashim, Wyatt shut up and voted Matt in. Travis had worried that Wyatt would give Matt a hard time, but he had kept it to himself and didn't seem to hold anything against Matt in the time since.
But even with these clues, and surprising everyone on the platoon with the ferociousness with which it had happened, Petey had taken to Matt. A sincere, protective side started to emerge that no one had expected at all. And then, just like Glenda The Good Witch had beaten him senseless with her wand, he had decided that Matt was his brother. As in there’s no place like home and all that. And now, God help the person that ever so much as raised a finger at Matt. No one had expected how close they would wind up, but no one on the team was going to argue with it, either. Matt obviously totally loved Petey, and he seemed to do Petey a world of good. And everybody else got some shits ‘n grins out of watching Petey and Matt go round and round the way they did.
The only real loser was Travis. But that was only because he had to share Matt with Petey when he came to Virginia Beach. Small sacrifice, though. But, one he was willing to make for Matt’s sake. And Petey’s, too, if truth be told.
Travis decided he had to tease him a little bit. “You’re the only person in the world that can harass Petey like that, you know?”
Matt shrugged, still lying on Travis’ chest. He said, “Psssh! He's just a pussy with an oversized ego. Besides, he’s the one that wanted me for a brother, so he’s gotta live with the consequences."
He added, "I’m thinking about buying him some pink polka-dot boxer shorts for his birthday and making him wear them under his BDU.”
Travis started chuckling, shaking Matt violently in the process, which started Matt laughing, too.
I never want to get up from this bed with him. Fuck the boat tomorrow.
Matt was the hot burning coal inside him that made him want to get up every morning, that made him want to come home from every mission. Matt had done so much for him – Al-Hashim, his father, toning Petey's aggression down some, helping Keith come to terms with the death of the Marine - and all he ever seemed to think about was how much Travis had done for him instead. Travis might not have had a lot of experience dating a lot of guys, but he knew deep down that Matt was rare. And the red ember inside him burned all the hotter because of it.
He reached down and felt the faint hair at the base of Matt’s spine. He loved that spot, right there in the small of his back. “You gonna be ok on the boat tomorrow?”
“As long as you guys are there. I did pretty good on that sightseeing boat two weeks ago, didn’t I?”
“You did great, Matty,” whispered Travis. Matt had done well, even when they were pretty far from land for the sunset.
“I think Chiliburger creamed in his pants a little when I told him you took me on a romantic sunset boat trip.”
If Travis hadn’t been a little nervous about having Bret and Jim right in his own backyard, he probably would have invited them to come along on that trip. But there were just too many people he worked with crawling all over Virginia Beach for him to take that risk. He didn’t like hiding Matt and he didn’t like hiding what they had together. It had never bothered him much before, but now he didn’t like his life being split in two. It didn’t feel right. But he knew there’d be sacrifices no matter what when he became a SEAL. Just because he could keep a secret didn’t mean he liked them.
Matt had come a long way in a short time. Back before Memorial Day, Travis had started working with him to overcome his fear of the water, and they had spent time all summer long taking it in small steps. Matt had made much more of a serious effort when he realized the platoon expected him to be a part of their Labor Day boat and beach outing. It was a sacred Labor Day tradition among them - just the platoon, no support staff, no officers, no girlfriends, no outsiders. Except Matt had earned the right to be there in the team’s eyes. It gave him a concrete goal to work towards, which made Travis’ job easier.
Travis had started small with Matt. They’d gone out in CRRC’s at the base, tooled around Little Creek Cove right up against land, then working up to being out in more open water. He had decided to get Matt used to just boats for now. Actually getting Matt into the water and teaching him to swim was going to take longer. Probably a lot longer. He had told Matt he wouldn’t rush him, and if he wasn’t ready to go out for the day of deep sea fishing (loosely translated as drinking on a boat), he didn’t have to go. But it was really important to Matt to do it. God bless him, he seemed game for anything with the guys, no matter how hard it might be for him. And Travis really loved that.
Travis watched Matt’s eyes in the pale light coming through his bedroom window. The low light made them a dark forest green instead of the brighter emerald green that the daylight brought out. He thumbed the slight dimple in Matt’s chin, the one hidden behind the perfectly-groomed goatee. He liked knowing about that secret dimple on Matt. It felt like it was his alone. Travis never felt more content than he did in these moments – the two of them laying together, studying each other, no need for words.
Matt shifted up in the bed and buried his face in Travis’ neck like he loved to do. A moment later, Matt said softly, “I love you so much, Trav.”
Travis exhaled contentedly and kissed the top of Matt’s head and pulled him a little tighter and a little closer.
Fuck the boat tomorrow.
Matt lifted his head up, just barely, and looked at Travis. And that’s when Travi
Travis waited a second, hoping to see if Matt would say anything. He didn’t even realize he was holding his breath.
He finally asked, whispering into Matt’s ear, “You ok?”
Matt lifted his head back up and smiled, “I’m good. I’m right where I want to be.”
Travis looked for any kind of doubt in Matt’s voice, any kind of equivocation, but there wasn’t any. But he couldn’t get the image out of his mind.
Travis shifted down and put his head on Matt’s stomach and wrapped his arm around his midsection, clutching him tightly, feeling the warm reassurance of the rise and fall of Matt’s chest as he breathed. It was one of his favorite ways of being close to Matt, from the very earliest part of their relationship. Normally, he did this to feel close to Matt, but this time he lay there feeling insecure and worried. He held onto Matt a little tighter and hoped that Matt didn’t push him away. He wouldn’t know what to do if that happened.
Matt fell asleep pretty quickly, but Travis lay awake for a long time trying to figure it out. He eventually fell asleep, too, though with no answer and no peace.
~~~~~
I’m fucking this up, and I don’t know how.
Travis sat on the flybridge, next to Jonas in the pilot’s chair at the helm. Geoff, Wes, Kennon, Desantos and Wyatt were lined up next to him along the white vinyl bench seats, a row of drunk, shirtless pirates, ready to pillage. Crank was out on the foredeck with some of the others, in his torn up cutoff jeans and faded tie-dyed shirt, playing his guitar like a wannabe pothead. Crank played, but they were all singing the old sailor song “The Holy Ground” at the top of their lungs, and shouts of “fine girl you are!” punctuated the air every few seconds. They were cutting up and laughing as they sang, butchering the lyrics, drinking their beer and whiskey, enjoying their day out on the brilliant blue water. Except for Travis. Travis wasn’t singing. They had tried to drag him into it, but his mind was one hundred percent elsewhere. Right now, it was focused aft, right at Matt down on the deck below.