Midnight Constellations

--- You came in without warning You straight knocked me off of my feet But call me a liar if I said I wasn't scared that you'll leave Once you unpack all the messy sides of me 'Cause I'm not usually like this shit I think that I'm all in

'Cause you're perfect God, I need you Just say you need me too

---

The house is quiet; honestly, it makes a nice change. The sun had risen hours ago, but Salim hadn’t quite worked up the desire to get out of bed just yet. Probably because this book was just too damn good… He flips another page, promising himself that he’ll finally get up when he reaches the end of the chapter. He’ll probably end up right back here, but he should probably eat something before lunchtime at least.

He's got no kid running around and forcing him to do things and for the first time in nearly twenty years, no military obligations either. (He was serious when he told Dar he was done – not that Dar was around anymore to tell Salim what to do.) Salim could do whatever he wanted, and lying in bed reading was exactly what he wanted to do.

This is what he used to dream about when he was younger: while never wishing Zain to grow up too fast, he always laughed and told himself he couldn’t wait for everything to be quiet and slow down again. Although, admittedly Salim had always imagined he’d have someone to share that quiet with; once upon a time that had been his wife. These days things were a little more… unclear.

When he finally put the book down he was at least two chapters further on, but the uncomfortable feeling settling in his stomach drove him towards the kitchen. He eats in silence, washes up, dresses and catches up on his prayer, before tidying up. It feels nice to have some time to do things like this now. But as predicted after that’s done, he returns to the bedroom.

Although this time when he picks up the book he lies back on the bed and doesn’t open it. Instead, Salim stares up at the ceiling. This is the first time that the silence settles on the uncomfortable side.

Zain has been at university a couple of months now, he’s settled in well and he’s having a great time. He calls Salim every evening to tell him about classes and his friends and all the exploring he’s already been doing. And Salim is just happy that he’s happy.

He’d spend the first month or so in London with Zain to help him establish himself, make sure he knew where he was going, and that he was making friends. That had been a whirlwind with no breather or time to think: getting ready for him to move all summer.

But now Zain was gone and that dust had settled. And Salim was in an empty nest – the freedom to do what he wanted was fine, great even. But he was so… lonely.

Salim lets the book go and gathers his hands together on his stomach, for a minute just concentrating on his breathing. Really this is the first time in his life he’s been alone, first his parents and his siblings, then his wife, then his unit… then just Zain.

He knots his fingers together, frowning. What he’s feeling isn’t that kind of loneliness though. It’s not that lack of people in his life. He has a few friends here that he’s seen and he’s still part of the community.

What Salim is really craving is companionship. One special someone. This isn’t something he’s ever really felt before either. He had a fairly traditional family and he knew as the eldest son he’d be found a partner that his parents deemed suitable and that would be it. And they had Zain young too, so, Salim had ticked the boxes. Done his duty.

Now he was older and single though… he thought about back when he was younger. He’d always known he was attracted to both men and women equally. For Salim it wasn’t so much about their looks but their personalities that really got him. He’d always assumed that it would never be something he could explore but now here he was.

Maybe it was a phase that would pass… as if this were something he just needed to put the excess energy into. No running around after Zain, no military career, he already knows he’s not busy…

It’s almost the perfect time for him to try ‘dating’. If he puts all his energy into socialising and finding someone, maybe he can settle again. Maybe this time for good.

He’s already met a number of nice women around town: even if it’s a little harder to find one who he wouldn’t consider too young for him, or those that weren’t married. Still, he’d met a few that he’d think were worth courting (appropriately, of course). He wanted to be slow and delicate about it; he’d have to figure it out as he went but Salim had a lot of self-confidence.

He had a right to. He still had it.

Jason had taught him that.

And therein lies the real problem.

Jason.

Jason always makes him stop. Every time he thinks about trying something, that damn American man is right there in the back of his head.

Because Jason is exactly how it should feel with somebody. How he felt with Jason is exactly how Salim wants to feel with whoever his future partner will be.

And Salim wonders if he can ever find that with anybody who isn’t Jason.

How can someone who he knew for barely five hours occupy his mind so completely?

Salim groans, pushing his hands up over his face, into his eyes and through his hair.

Being with a man here is not realistic. And Jason is also an American man. A young American man. Honestly Salim thinks he’s pushing it – and maybe not just because nine years younger is too young. But because Zain is only twelve years younger than Jason is. It’s a very thin edge – but it’s delicious, and for Jason, Salim will justify it. Will indulge the fantasy of a man that much younger even being interested.

Not that Salim knows if Jason is interested. No verbal confirmation, at least.

If Salim is interested in pursuing men, then maybe his home country is not the way to go; with the freedom and opportunity to explore now, maybe he could go anywhere else. Maybe he could start in London – although he wonders if he’ll get homesick… and if he leaves, he’s taking away Zain’s opportunity to come back if he should ever miss being home.

Salim has too much to think about other than himself.

But Jason? Salim can’t spend the rest of his life wondering. He can’t spend the rest of his life with someone else and only give them half of him because the American in the back of his mind refuses to leave him alone.

He has to have Jason’s verbal confirmation that what Salim’s feeling is what Jason’s feeling too. He doesn’t want to spend the rest of his life wishing he’d answered the question; even if the true answer breaks him.

Salim wonders if he can even get an answer from Jason now. Was he even in the country? Was he even still in the military anymore? Salim can imagine what he would have been put through in the aftermath of what happened in that Temple. …What if instead of some kind of NDA, the US Government had found some other way to shut them up? Wasn’t that easier? Could they just claim KIA?

Salim’s body gives a violent shiver, hands curling into fists – he clenches and unclenches them just at the thought.

He needed answers. Too many answers. Even if they aren’t answers he wants.

And there’s only one way he’s going to get them…

*** ‘Good Luck, Brother…’

Why the Fuck would you say that, Jason. Why the FUCK would you say that!?!!

It haunts him. Every single day he cringes that that will be his lasting impression on Salim.

Brother.

The semi-recovery of ‘Wish Zain a happy birthday from me.’ Didn’t even help, because Salim came back with

‘Goodbye, my friend.’

Friend.

Brother.

Friend.

Jason groans again trying to shake the memory away. How stupidly idiotic did he have to be to end it that way?

They had been through hell together and Jason had been able to open up about almost everything but when it came the perfect moment to say something he’d got way too scared.

Like he couldn’t end this on a bad note if what he was feeling wasn’t reciprocated.

Salim had been nothing but sweet and understanding the entire time; even if he didn’t feel the same it was unlikely he would have judged Jason for it.

But something in him just couldn’t take that chance.

What did it matter, he was paying for it now.

Brother? Jason knows that’s not it, that’s not how he feels.

He wishes he’d have said friend too. Corrected himself, even, once Salim had offered that himself. But in the moment, he just hadn’t thought about it…

For the few weeks SIRA had insisted on keeping them locked down on Slayer and gone crawling all over that Temple, Jason had been tempted to ask if he could join them. Under the guise of helping out the mission – Salim had walked home, so he couldn’t have lived too far away.

Not that Jason really had a clue where to start without properly studying a map.

Really he was far too worried that if he somehow convinced them to let him out and anywhere near the site, they would have him tracked and followed. And the last thing Jason wants is for them to find and capture Salim…

He’d fought his way back to his son and he deserved nothing less to live out the rest of his life happy and in peace.

Maybe that’s why Jason had said Brother.

He chaos. A mess. A tangle of regret, anger, a fucked up past and bad language. Reckless and impulsive. American. He’s the last thing Salim needs to be associating with.

Now SIRA are out of the picture, Jason can’t be sure they aren’t keeping an eye on things over here still. And he definitely can’t risk looking suspicious himself by trekking out on his own to some place in Iraq that he doesn’t even really know…

Honestly, given the uniform it’s unlikely he’ll even make it if he did know. Not setting out alone.

He had a brand new squad – hand picked so he trusts them, but they’re taking time to gel. The Marines refused to let him go home; Rachel and Eric are still out here. Jason has no reason to think they aren’t being watched; maybe just not as close.

Easier to figure out if they’re still keeping their end of the NDA.

So, Salim ends up a memory that Jason can simply kick himself for. Even around the other three he’s barely raised as a subject. Even though he’s all Jason wants to talk about. It’s under his skin all the time – wanting to blurt out how much he wonders what Salim is doing now. How much he misses him.

But Jason never says it. He keeps Salim to himself.

Over time that makes Salim his little secret. His little fantasy. And every so often, knowing he’s never likely to see this man again in his life, Jason will allow himself to indulge in more than just seeing it all in his head.

In the middle of the night, when it’s dark, and quiet, and Jason knows no one is awake he lies down on the floor of his room. His legs are up on the bed, spread apart and Jason closes his eyes and lets his mind and hands wander. Grazing them over the curves of his muscles, his thighs, his hips, tracing them ever inward to brush gently against his crotch. He exhales sharply; pretending it’s not his hands. In his head it’s all Salim, he can hear the way he chuckles, the way his accent says Jason’s name.

Fuck it feels so good.

Jason whines and pants, brushing his hand over his bare skin as he slips it under his clothing.

And then it’s Salim’s name coming from his lips – like a blessing, like a curse. Like something Jason can’t ever have.

***

It’s not as far as Salim expects. Maybe it’s just he’s so in his head about the whole situation that he doesn’t really notice the miles as they pass. And for the last section of it he’s on foot – if he approaches in a vehicle, he’s aware that he’s going to get a one-way ticket to nowhere good. He has a white sweatshirt with him which is serving as his makeshift white flag.

This is impressively impulsive for Salim; he’s not had much time to plan this. He’s tried not to give himself too much time to plan this.

What would Jason do – that’s the mantra for this mission. Not much has changed with that at the forefront of his mind: it’s still Jason filling his thoughts, after all.

He’s still bracing himself for the shot though. He’s aware how weird this must look; how often do Iraqi’s come anywhere near this base willingly.

Salim looks past the fencing and up to the old palace building, it’s full of holes and caved in ceilings. He curses under his breath. Americans…

And he’s here to see one.

As he gets closer, Salim puts his hands up; trying his best to make himself look a little smaller and non-threatening. Though that’s not exactly easy when he’s got nearly twenty years’ worth of military service under his belt.

There’s suddenly a lot of yelling. And all of it in English. Of course!  And he’s suddenly surrounded by no less than five members of the US military. They’re all yelling slightly conflicting instructions on what they want him to do, which is helping nothing, so Salim quickly scans their ranks and decides to do what the highest ranking is telling him. Hands up. Stand still.

Salim breathes calmly even though they all start grabbing at him; their patting down is rough, but even then he tries not to wince as they smack him in places he’d really rather they didn’t. He has no weaponry. He’s made sure he has nothing on him they can possibly believe is a weapon, or a threat to them. They are American though, and Salim just being Salim is a threat. The ones not roughing him up still have their guns trained on him.

‘Jason…’ He thinks to himself, ‘you’re doing this for Jason…’ and no matter what happened Jason was worth it. Salim had been to hell and back for that man before he could handle some American’s being a little rough with him. Especially when he was so close.

They yank his arms down from above his head and pull them around his back, straining against his shoulders. Jason has done this to you before too, remember that…

It’s hard to think about Jason the way he was.

Salim thinks for a second about Nick and wishes that they were as open minded as him, as they bind his hands and shove him forward into camp. Nick is the exception, he is so far from the rule. Jason was the rule. Once. Jason changed. But these guys don’t have a million ancient alien vampire creatures attacking them to quickly bond with Salim over, do they?

So far, they’ve not asked questions. He thinks maybe that’s coming. Or maybe he’s made a terrible mistake. Maybe he won’t get to see Jason at all. Maybe they will simply haul him off elsewhere.

They stop just inside the gate and the leader yells to the watch to see if there are anymore “like him” coming. When the watch confirms that Salim is alone, he is finally spoken to properly.

“You’re either very fucking brave or very fucking stupid coming all the way out here by yourself.”

Salim thinks maybe a bit of both is about right.

He takes a deep breath, “I am here to see First Lieutenant Jason Kolchek. It’s an urgent matter.”

For Salim it was urgent.

He sees the way they flinch at the name. Oh, they know Jason alright. But it’s more than that – it’s that Salim knows him by name and rank.

They all look to each other, wondering if anyone actually knows anything about this. Salim remembers Jason’s constant phrase of ‘I can hear you thinking.’ and he thinks he can hear them all right now.

Is this intel? A spy amongst enemy ranks?

The leaders mouth presses into a thin line and his eyes narrow, “What the hell is this about?!”

Salim stays strong. If that’s what they think, that’s what he’ll let them think. But he knows this game. And he will play it. “It’s very important that I speak to Lieutenant Kolchek only about this information.”

He needs to see Jason, if he lets them take him anywhere else, he’s as good as a prisoner of war. And even for a few hours – until they tell Jason some Iraqi guy was looking for him - Salim can’t see him coming out of that unscathed. If they tell Jason at all.

The leader doesn’t budge. And Salim takes a deep breath. If they want something, he’ll give them something.

“Tell him it’s about the Sumerian Temple.”

That’s good enough to present as code for something to them. To Jason, it will be obvious.

They all look to each other again before the leader looks to the man to Salim’s right,

“Anderson.”

He stiffens, “Sir.”

“Please inform our First Lieutenant there’s an Iraqi here to see him.”

Salim can feel the hesitation in his voice even though the solider does not hesitate in his response: “Yes Sir.”

They’re still all as confused as each other. Salim watches the solider take off across the sand towards the building.

A sudden uneasy thought hits him. Thinking about the temple and the vampires again. What if what they had was some kind of trauma bond? Maybe now they were out of there and on opposite sides again Jason would have reverted back to… Salim can’t finish that thought. But what if he wants to keep up appearances to the squad? What if he comes out yelling and it’s all just like the first time.

Salim’s heart would break.

This could all just be a very bad idea.

But he’s here now, and it’s far too late to back out. He’s a few minutes from seeing Jason. Who is clearly still here and still alive.

He’ll face whoever Jason is now, at least Salim will know…

*** When the Lance Corporal tries to slip into the meeting, Jason knows this is about to get good. He wiggles a little to get more comfortable in his seat, folding his arms and smirking.

Rachel HATES interruptions. And she’s just getting going. This should at least make things entertaining considering how damn boring this meeting is.

It’s clear Anderson’s trying not to be noticed, the way he opens and closes the door so gently. But if Jason has spotted him then Rachel certainly has. He looks around the room, pressed as flat as he can against the door he just closed to try and find whoever he is looking for and then: “Lance Corporal Anderson, if you must interrupt my briefing will you at least knock first!?” The poor man almost jumps as Rachel raises her voice. She is not impressed. Jason has to sink his teeth into his lip to stop himself from laughing, and he notices the way Nick bends forward from where he’s sitting next to him to hide his silent laughter. Now everyone’s eyes are on Anderson, so his plan has massively backfired.

At least he looks apologetic as he turns to her, “I’m sorry, Ma’am I need to borrow Lieutenant Kolchek for a while. It’s unfortunately an urgent matter. If I may?” Jason’s face falls – oh what the fuck! - why did it have to be him?! Nick starts shaking with laughter and Jason jabs him with his elbow.

Rachel turns her eyes on him like it’s his fault. “Fine. Lieutenant, see me later.” Why the fuck is he in trouble? He didn’t ask for this!! Jason stands; if she wants to be Queen Bitch again today - fine. “Yes Ma’am.” He quickly makes his way around the room and follows Anderson out.

The man seems nervous and rightfully so, Jason is pissed. Sure the meeting was boring as hell but now Jason is going to get in trouble for not being there and it was still important. What the hell could this even be about!? Besides wasn’t Anderson on watch duty today, he should be outside!

“What the hell man!? If you’re going to get me in trouble with anyone, does it have to be Rachel King!?” “I’m sorry, Lieutenant but this really couldn’t wait.” Anderson keeps walking to move Jason somewhere they could talk alone. “Okay if it’s so fuckin’ urgent, spit it out man!” The corporal stumbles on his words for a second before he finds them. “There is an Iraqi civilian at the gate, and he is asking to see you specifically.” Jason frowns, then raises an eyebrow, “Huh?!” Iraqi… civilian…? Anderson swallows hard, “He’s asking for you by name, Sir.” Jason’s frown deepens, “He knows my name?” “Yes, Sir.” Jason’s eyes narrow, and at the risk of getting yelled at about this being some kind of joke, Anderson adds the final piece of information, “He said to tell you it’s about the Sumerian Temple, Sir.”

And then it clicks. Jason’s reaction is massive. Inside his head is screaming. SALIM!!!!! Externally he is electric, his body jolting rigid and his eyes wide. What the HELL was Salim doing here!?! Jason moves a couple of paces ready to break out into a run, but he halts and turns back on Anderson. His eyes and voice intense. “Wait! Who else knows!?” Anderson stiffens again, “No one sir, just those on the gate.” “Keep it that way – no one else talks about this until I give the okay. Got it?!” Jason still isn’t sure about SIRA, and if SIRA get hold of that information they will put two and two together much quicker than Jason. Salim will never be allowed to leave. “Yes Sir.” Jason gives a firm nod and then he’s sprinting.

Salim! Salim!! Salim!!! Here to see him!? What is this!? A trick? Or Jason’s wildest dreams coming true?

Of course Jason blanked on him – because he’s not thinking about Salim as a civilian. To him Salim will always be a soldier. Gorgeous; looking so damn fine in a uniform Jason is supposed to hate him for. …In a Uniform Jason did hate him for. Had he given that up? Was he done now? Jason has so many questions… so much he wants to say…

But also why would Salim even bother with him out here. It’s a long way from home. Jason’s heart hammers in his chest and it has nothing to do with how fast he’s moving. Salim must have far better and far more suitable options much closer to home, if he’s even interested in dating after his ex-wife. And why the hell is Jason letting his mind run with that train of thought?

Maybe because Jason can’t think of any other reason why Salim would come so far and risk so much. It’s precisely the reason Jason would do the exact same.

Please… Jason hopes against hope …fuck Salim, please, be here because you feel the same…!

***

Salim hears Jason well before he sees him. He’s not even out of the building before Salim can hear:

“SALIM!!!! SALIMMMMMM!” He’d know that accent anywhere. It makes his heart feel lighter. No matter what, he’s so happy that he’ll get to see Jason again. The American almost skids on the sand as he sprints towards them. And Jason is doing a terrible job at hiding how overjoyed he feels. “SALIM!!!” Salim wants to call back, and instinctively he pulls at the restraints on his wrists; stopping just shy of taking a step forward. Not yet. Jason keeps running before signalling everyone around him to move back. “Stand DOWN! Unbind him! Step back! He’s okay – leave him alone!!!” Freedom, as Salim finds the binding on his wrists cut. Still, he waits for Jason to get to him. Sliding across the sand to a halt, Jason throws his arms around Salim.

It's the hug Jason wishes he’d said goodbye with before. But at least he gets to welcome Salim back into his life with it this time.

Salim chuckles, winding his arms around Jason’s shoulders too, “I missed you too, Jason!”

No matter how long that embrace lasts, it will never be long enough for either of them. Given they are in the presence of company, they both understand why it needs to end early.

Jason steps back, grinning, “What the hell are you doing here? Why did you come all the way out here!?”

Salim shakes his head, “Like I said to your colleagues, it was very important that I come out here to see you. Perhaps we should not talk out here, though.”

Jason gives a nod, “Intel, I get it.” Salim isn’t sure if Jason actually truly believes that, or he’s just catching on to keep up appearances.

He looks down at what Salim is wearing - indeed, the man has come out here in civilian clothing, but he looks good: shirt over a shirt with soft blue jeans. A white sweatshirt tied around his waist.

Jason looks up to the sun, shielding his eyes beyond his baseball cap; this one is still in grey, only this time it reads ‘USMC’. “Come on, come inside.” He gestures for Salim to follow him before turning to the rest of them, “Until I get back here with him you tell no one that he’s here, do you understand?” “Yes Sir!” They all chime in unison, and Jason gives them a firm nod before walking Salim into Camp.

Now they’re alone Jason can breathe a sigh of relief, turning back to Salim, his eyes sparkle. “Really, why did you come here?” Salim’s smile is playful, “Well, I had to see that you were alright.” Salim can’t say he’s surprised to see that Jason has stayed with the military, but he is at least a little surprised that Jason is still out in Iraq. Luck was clearly on his side here. “Just had to check no one had silenced my favourite Marine yet.” Jason laughs, he tips his head so Salim can’t see his face below his cap, bashful. “Just had to check, huh?” “Mhm.”

“Well, I can tell ya, they came real fuckin’ close at one point.” It’s a jest. And when he looks back at Salim, Jason’s biting his lip through his smile, before he allows himself to grin just at the smile on Salim’s face. It’s so sweet and playful, but the look in his eyes – that’s what’s setting Jason off. He doesn’t think anyone has ever looked at him that way before. He doesn’t even think Salim had looked at him that way down in Hell.

It makes Jason soften up too. His accent lilts as he speaks, and Salim realises just how much he loves it. He just wants Jason to keep talking. “It’s really good to see you.” He takes a breath, “I’m sure Nicky would love to see you too, but he’s still stuck in the meeting I was hauled out of.”

“Later, perhaps.”

Jason nods, before his eyes drift over Salim’s shoulder, “I’m sorry about the guys on the gate. I guess they’re doin’ their job but, if they knew that half of it, they’d treat you with much more respect.”

Salim shakes his head, understanding. “It’s okay, Jason. I’m an Iraqi walking up to an American base. I’m surprised I made it, honestly.” He had been waving white; he had no weaponry, but just on account of his home country he’s a threat.

Jason’s eyes widen, “Don’t tell me you walked here?”

“No,” Salim would have, though, if that’s what it would have taken to speak to Jason again, “but I hid the car, I can’t imagine that would have got me this far.”

Jason laughs through his nose in agreement, “No…”

They stand for a minute in silence before Jason turns back to the inside passage of the camp. “Do you… want to come to my room, or…?”

Salim almost startles. For him that seems very forward and very sudden. Even he’s not ready for that. “Your room?!”

Jason looks back at him, and misinterprets Salim’s wide-eyed expression as Salim actually wanting to come all the way here to give him intelligence.

His suggestion was, in that case, totally inappropriate.

Jason blushes, trying to double back, “Well I can try to find a meeting room, but I figured that my room is private and away from anyone else, so whatever you’d want to tell me would stay with me. But if that’s not okay, then-”

Salim relaxes; Jason is so damn adorable when he’s flustered like this. “No, your room will be fine, Jason.”

Jason stares at him, like he’s trying to measure up if Salim really means it or he’s just trying to make things easier on Jason.

Finally, after Salim starts staring expectantly at him, Jason nods. “Okay.”

He beckons with his head. “Follow me.”

They walk in silence. If Jason has any indication of exactly what Salim is here for, he’s not showing it. His strides are confident and there’s no tension across his shoulders that Salim can observe. Maybe it’s that Salim himself is so unfocused. He knows what he came all this way to say; he just doesn’t know how Jason is going to take it. So far Jason has at least reacted positively to his presence here. But that doesn’t mean the same can be said for what he has to say.

Salim takes his eyes off Jason’s back to study the architecture. He’s heard a lot about this old palace, always wondered what it would look like on the inside. All things considered, it’s a beautiful building – he doubts the Americans would have any appreciation for that, considering what they’ve done to it. He doubts they’ll bother repairing the cracks and tears in the ornate patterned tiles and walls. Salim can’t help but be a little sad; especially after he’d been just as impressed with the Temple architecture. He could only imagine what Jason thought of that, also.

As Jason continues to lead him through the building back to their assigned rooms, Salim starts to realise just how big this place is. It provides an interesting juxtaposition to the town he’s from, and the way he’s lived his whole life.

Figures…

Eventually they are in a corridor of labelled rooms, stopping outside of the one with the plaque ‘Lt. Kolchek, J.’

Jason opens the door and pushes it wide, turning to Salim, “After you!”

Salim nods his thanks and with one step he’s suddenly in Jason’s world.

The American at least allows him the time to study what’s in here. It feels like unlocking another little piece of Jason, to get to see something so personal.

Salim can’t help but smile – it’s a little how he expects. Organised Chaos. The bed is made exceptionally neat, everything pushed back against the wall and ordered neatly, including the way the clothes were stacked on the trunk also labelled with Jason’s name. The chair is neatly tucked into the desk, dead centre.  Which gives the impression that Jason is immaculately neat. Salim laughs to himself – thinking of clothes strewn all over the floor back home. Yeah, there came their first point of contention.

However, everything else looks like chaos. There are various piles of paper on the desk that Salim supposes must be in some semblance of order but all the pages are misaligned. There is also a notebook that looks like it’s been thrown down there to deal with later (also with a mess of notes and coloured tabs sticking out of it.) There is a corkboard balanced against the back of the desk that contains a multitude of photographs. None of these are stuck to the board straight. There’s a couple of landscapes that look like postcards of various US states, pictures of Jason with groups of friends that Salim doesn’t know, and pictures of Jason with Nick. There is more than one photograph of a blue Ford truck from various angles; sometimes with Jason in them and sometimes not, but always with a particularly striking background. Salim supposes this must be his truck. Salim is surprised to find that there is a new photograph amongst these, defined by the lack of scuffing around the corners, which denotes that some of these pictures have been taken down and tacked up in various places. Salim would recognise the landscape anywhere. It’s Iraq: desert and rocks and clear blue sky. As a landscape photograph though it looks so beautiful, the unusual shape of the outcroppings and the city in the far distance beyond the haze makes Salim’s heart swell a little. Jason has a picture of his home now. And he can bet that wasn’t even a thought to have on Jason’s wall before they had met.

Salim straightens and sweeps his eyes to Jason’s bedside table. Upon it are an alarm clock, a CD player, headphones and a stack of CDs that also aren’t neatly lined up.

Above Jason’s bed is a wall calendar on which he’s marked out a schedule, but apart from that his walls are surprisingly bare.

Salim turns to Jason, and the American smiles with a little shrug, “It ain’t much, but it’s home while I’m here.”

‘It’s you…’ Salim thinks, ‘So it’s plenty…’

Jason indicates to the bed before sitting down, “I only got one chair, so you can take that or sit here, might be more comfortable than standing around.”

Salim nods, and opts to sit next to Jason. Although, for what he’s got to say maybe he would be more comfortable standing.

Jason takes a breath, smoothing his palms along his thighs like he’s sweating, “What on Earth can be so damn important you’d risk bringing yourself all the way out here for, Salim? Geez, man, I only just got you back to Zain! Anything could have happened out there.”

Salim can’t help but smile fondly at him. He’d already reasoned with himself how worth it this would be for Jason.

“A few months ago you did, but he’s in London studying now.”

Jason scowls a little, “That’s no reason to be reckless! You still got a son to be there for.”

Salim can’t help it; he has to tell the truth. He’s here and he has to say it now. If Jason wants to know, it’s going to be a case of tearing that Band-Aid off.

Then if Jason wants him to leave, he’s wasted as little time as possible, for both of them.

“To see you again, it would be worth it.”

Jason freezes, his lips part and his eyes widen a little, but he doesn’t have a comeback to something he doesn’t expect.

Salim’s look softens, “I know where we left it was good Jason, it was fine. But I…” He trails off momentarily.

Jason’s heart thumps against his chest, is this happening!? Is it!? His breath catches in his throat. Trouble is, Jason can’t say it either. Salim shuffles a little closer to Jason across the bed and gathers all his courage. This is it. This is why he was so reckless. Once he says this, they can’t go back.

“…I don’t want to leave it there. I had to see you to see if I- if we…” His eyes raise to Jason’s. “Could be something more than that.”

Jason is rigid, his fingers digging into the bed sheets. He is aware of the silence between them but his head is screaming.

Why the fuck would Salim ask these questions here of all places?! Now his room seems like the least appropriate of all places Jason could have suggested. But then where else was there? Salim had trekked across the country to confess this to him…

Jason was staring at the man he’d never in a million years thought he’d see again. Not only that, but Jason is also discovering that his own feelings were reciprocated!

He keeps trying to force his breaths out, but they catch so easily in his throat. This is so much more complicated for him than simply attempting to say it back. From when they’d last seen each other up until now Salim had just been a fantasy that Jason could indulge in because he couldn’t have him.

Jason starts burning; he feels so guilty for that. How many times has he said Salim’s name in this room? And nearly every time its quiet moans to filthy thoughts…

But now Salim is in front of him, physically, and he’s asking this question so innocently. Jason wishes he’d never thought of Salim that way at all.

He is confessing all of Jason’s wildest dreams, though, and that means it’s just as hard for Jason to stop his thought from actually going there.

The only thing that is stopping him is the look on Salim’s face. He’s clearly very nervous, anxious and uncomfortable in the silence Jason is offering him, Salim speaks again. His voice gentle,

“If you don’t feel the same way, if you want me to leave… I understand. But I had to know.”

Jason remains quiet as Salim waits patiently for him. Jason’s eyes lower from Salim’s. How can saying something back be so fucking hard? This felt harder than fighting the Vampires: which was an insane thing to think but that’s how Jason feels.

Jason has nothing.

Salim’s eyes lower from Jason’s too, hands clenching and unclenching on his knees. His heart feels tight in his chest as the disappointment sets in. Did he read Jason wrong all this time? He tries to reason with himself that he doesn’t have to get upset, this is what he wanted after all. An answer.

And he has one.

But that doesn’t help when it’s not the one Salim wanted.

He stands slowly, trying to keep his voice neutral and understanding. “I understand, Jason… I’m sorry I wasted your time.”

Jason head snaps up before he reaches the door, and Salim pauses, turning back. He isn’t sure what he expects to see. Something neutral, something hateful, confusion? He just wants to see Jason one last time before he disappears from Salim’s life forever.

But Jason’s expression is so painful. Jason’s mouth opens slowly but still nothing comes out. His eyes are shining, and all Salim sees is the man who finally found it within himself to confess about the checkpoint down in the alien city. It’s exactly the same expression.

Salim’s eyes widen, own expression pulling into realisation. Jason does feel the same. He wouldn’t be looking at Salim like that otherwise. He’s trying to say it all while saying nothing at all. Salim takes a step forward, pushing the swell of his heart down; because it’s not enough. He needs to coax Jason to say it. Salim needs to hear it.

Jason’s been conditioned that this is wrong; this feeling is wrong. That he shouldn’t feel like this for another man at all. Especially not this one. And especially here in a Military setting.

Salim hovers over him, Jason’s head has tipped back as Salim has approached but the expression remains on his face. He’s begging Salim to hear what he cannot say.

Salim brings his hands up, gently cupping Jason’s face. Suddenly Jason’s body unwinds, untenses, it almost melts into his touch. His lips press together and he looks like he’s holding back tears.

“I know it’s hard… Jason.” Salim’s voice remains soft as he lowers it. “I can see it. But I need you to say it. I just need to hear you say it.”

Jason’s top teeth appear as they sink into his bottom lip, and he bites down extra hard, his whole face screwing up.

Salim holds him there, gently, it means that Jason can’t look away from him. Salim can wait – and Jason can see that. His patience for Jason will be never ending, and even Salim knows that at this point. And Jason needs to know it too. Salim will wait for him, as long as Jason gets there.

And right now, Jason needs to get there.

Salim isn’t sure how long he’s holding Jason’s face for but eventually he relaxes, and his teeth withdraw, leaving intents in his skin. He swallows and Salim lets him go.

Jason’s eyes don’t move from his, but there’s something else about them now. They don’t look sad or helpless. There’s a different type of energy burning behind them now, it makes the lighter browns running through come alive. His voice shakes, it’s quiet. But Jason says what he’s feeling more than anything else. “I want you so bad.”

Even Jason can’t hide how much it drips with desire and the truth.

He can’t find any other way to tell Salim that he feels the same. That he also wants them to be more than that. Of course he does.

Salim almost rolls his eyes: for a moment the words themselves don’t quite register. All he can think is how that response is so typically Jason. But he sits back down on the bed, a little closer still this time, and that’s exactly what Jason wants.

Now they are back to staring at each other. Because now they both know how they feel – what now?

Jason is starting to get very hot under Salim’s gaze. And suddenly, in further silence, what he actually said starts sinking in for Salim too.

I WANT you so bad - that’s not just charged in terms of a relationship, that’s also sexually charged.

Oh.

Salim understands why Jason is suddenly going so red, and he can feel himself start blushing too. He supposed he hadn’t considered that Jason had thought about him that way before. But Salim is an adult with a grown son; and he knows a thing or two about that kind of pleasure. Besides, he would be amiss to say that he hadn’t thought about what Jason might feel like under him…. What it might be like to kiss, or hold, or touch…

It's now Jason that is waiting on his response. And Salim won’t make him wait half as long this time.

His smile is playful, before his head tips slightly, “Show me.”

Jason’s mind jolts. He knows that sound. It’s the same tone Salim had used before. Tell Me. Just before Jason had spilled everything, one confession after another because he could trust a man he’d just met with anything.

Salim is asking for the same thing now. But Jason’s confirmation had been all the words Salim needed.

Jason takes that as a verbal cue. Show Salim he sure would.

He leans forward, pulling the brim of his cap upward as he does so, making it easier for them to fit together. Salim meets him halfway, and their lips connect.

Jason is aware his heart is now thumping in his ears; he can feel his pulse in every part of his body. There are too many thoughts in his head and they’re all screaming different things; but it’s all happening so fast that he can’t focus on one. “Jason,” His focus snaps and suddenly everything is quiet at the sound of Salim’s voice. Jason’s eyes slide open, and he hadn’t even realised he’d closed them. Salim’s eyes are kind and warm and Jason wants to drown in them, “It’s alright. You can stop overthinking now…”

Jason breathes a laugh, before he kisses Salim again. Somehow this time his brain keeps quiet. Jason slides his hand up to Salim’s face, kissing a little harder. Until it becomes fierce, harsh. The pressure makes Salim sigh against his lips, pressing his hand to Jason’s own, interlacing some of their fingers. Salim understands: he had said ‘show me’. Jason does want him bad. Salim’s other hand moves to Jason’s waist, making the American instinctively shuffle closer until their knees bump. Jason parts his lips as their kisses become open mouth, soft lips moving against each other. This feels good; but it also feels right. Salim is once again dismantling everything Jason has ever been told was wrong brick by brick. Salim hand moves down to Jason’s hip and then lower, to the top of his thigh and Jason sighs. It's been way too long since he kissed someone, since he’s been touched like this.

His own hands don’t cut it; they don’t even come CLOSE to what Salim actually feels like. Those hands are so strong, but Salim is being so delicate with him.

Holy fuck.

Salim runs the tip of his tongue teasingly over Jason’s bottom lip and Jason doesn’t even hesitate, he almost drags Salim closer. Enjoying the way their tongues play together. Salim tastes good; like too strong coffee and the remnants of cigarette smoke. (For all Jason’s gripes with that). Jason moans into the kiss.

Fuck he wants more. He wants so much more.

Salim senses this, coaxing Jason to explore his own mouth. And Jason doesn’t need telling twice. His hands sliding down from Salim’s cheek to his chest. Good Lord.

He can feel the muscles under his fingertips. Salim’s heartbeat is so strong, and Jason can’t help but smirk at the knowledge that it’s going as fast as his is.

With his other hand free Salim now moves it to the other side of Jason’s waist. The American sighs again at the contact, once more using it to pull himself closer to Salim. Their tongues roll together again and as they break apart momentarily for air Salim sighs his name.

It makes Jason whine. Why does it sound so good? It sounds like heaven, like paradise. Jason didn’t know his name could be said like that.

“Salim…” Jason responds in kind. Salim’s name in this tone has rolled from Jason’s lips before, but Salim has never been present to hear it before.

The Iraqi takes this initiative momentarily, his hand on Jason’s thigh gives a tug and Jason knows where to follow, pushing up with his left leg he lets Salim help loop him over his lap, so Jason straddles him.

He grabs handfuls of Salim’s shirt as the Iraqi’s hands move to his ass, pulling him forward into his hips.

“Fuck, Salim!” Jason whines again, diving back in for another kiss as Salim chuckles. The intensity is taken up a notch, these are harsher, and both of them seem to be fighting each other teasingly for dominance.

Salim moves his hand momentarily from Jason’s ass if only to lift the cap from his head and toss it into a corner of the room. Usually Jason would snap that ‘no one touches the hat!’ but right now as Salim’s fingers moves into his hair and pull his head back, Jason couldn’t give a damn. Jason at least gets the opportunity to gasp for air as Salim’s lips attach themselves to his neck. He trails his kisses down as far as Jason’s shirt collar and then back up and across his jaw line. They are almost featherlight and somehow that teasing feels even better to Jason.

He involuntarily finds himself grinding into Salim’s hips. Oh, Fuck! FUCK!

If Salim minds, he says nothing; using his hand in Jason’s hair to pull the American back to his lips.

Jason removes his own hands from Salim’s shirt, looping them around his neck he pulls his body in closer. One thing is for sure, he can keep up with Salim’s experience. Jason can take it: but he asks for more, and more and more…

This time when Salim says his name as Jason bites down on his lip it’s more of a growl. And an insane shock of pleasure runs through Jason’s gut.

That sounds so delicious. He wonders if he can make Salim do it again. It’s getting so warm in here, he wants to… he wants to…

Jason moves he fingers to Salim’s shoulders; under the overshirt Salim has on, he pushes it down, and the Iraqi offers no resistance. Helping Jason remove it from his body. With one layer gone Jason’s hands immediately shoot for the hem of the t-shirt underneath.

Salim pulls back from the kiss momentarily. They’re both flushed; and Jason looks positively drunk on him. “Please,” Jason pants, “take it off.” Salim shakes his head but he’s smiling, “And who would I be to refuse you, Ya Amar?” He pulls Jason in again, one more short, chaste kiss before helping Jason to pull his shirt over his head. It also finds a new home in the corner of the room.

Jason moans looking at Salim’s shirtless body. He doesn’t know where he pulls that sound from but it’s deep within himself. It’s a desire he’s never felt before.

Salim is hot. No question. The sweep of his muscles over strong shoulders and a broad chest into his arms. The trail of hair from his chest down to his belt buckle. Oh, Jason has fantasised this, but fantasy has nothing on the real thing.

Jason is biting his lip as he starts whining again. His skin is so beautifully bronze: this lighting does him no justice but he’s still stunning. The muscles of his stomach are softly defined but he’s still built so well. Solid. That’s a lot of military experience that isn’t about to be undone by middle age.

“Fuck,” Jason begins again, “Fuck… Fuck you’re so fucking… you’re so fucking…”

Poetic, isn’t he?

Salim starts smirking again as he watches Jason’s eyes roam his body. It’s obvious the younger man likes what he sees, before he starts his vocal reactions. The blush on Jason’s face is moving up to his ears and down his neck; it makes his freckles much more prominent.

Salim wants to see if those freckles and that blush go down even further.

He leans in, brushing his lips to Jason’s again, he lowers his voice, making it growl on purpose.

“Do you like looking at me, Jason?” He moves his hands up under Jason’s shirt too and the American shudders under his fingertips. “I want to look at you, too.”

Jason nods, humming as Salim skims his fingertips up and over Jason’s skin. Jason is burning; it makes Salim’s little smirk wicked.

He assists Jason with tugging his shirt over his head and it too finds itself relegated to a corner of the room. Salim places his hands back on Jason’s waist and sweeps his eyes down; Jason’s freckles do run down over his chest and stomach; and the blush from his face settles pretty and pink over his chest too.   His muscles are well-defined over his abs but its more prominent on his arms. (and his legs: Jason isn’t naked, but it’s already easy for Salim to tell that. He wasn’t just looking at Jason’s pretty face down in Hell.) He’s young and healthy and clearly takes his military drills seriously. Salim moves his fingers tentatively so they meet at Jason’s stomach, and then he runs them up and over his muscles pressing just hard enough to indent his skin. Jason whines again. “Oh, Jason…” Salim breathes, following it with something Arabic that Jason doesn’t understand. But damn, he wants to when he hears Salim say it like that.

Jason moves his hands up over Salim’s upper arms and to his shoulders, to his chest where he lingers for as long as he dares before he goes crazy and then back to Salim’s shoulders before leaning back in for a kiss. Salim’s arms wind around Jason’s waist and pull him closer until they are chest to chest; and this makes Jason’s nails dig into his skin. Salim groans into the kiss: it’s fierce, fire and desire, hot and hungry and delicious. Jason pants against his lips but every time Salim tries to pull back to give him air Jason drags him back into the kiss. It just makes Salim smile; the way Jason’s hands run over his back, digging his nails in a little more. And this time when Jason sighs against his tongue Salim can’t wait for those to become scratches. Later…

Except Jason doesn’t want later. Jason wants now. He moves one of his hands between them and Salim feels Jason fumble with his belt – the way the metal chinks as he tries to work it loose one handed. Salim breaks the kiss, placing his hand over Jason’s. “Jason… Jason… stop.” The American stills his hands, his shoulders rising and falling steadily with the effort of his panting. His face reads disappointment. Salim shakes his head, “I know, Habibi, I know… But I don’t want you to regret this…” He threads his fingers back into Jason’s hair, running his thumbs over his cheeks. “Not here… not yet…”

He pulls Jason back to his lips, kiss chaste.

This would be their first time, and there are so many better places than this Marine base. There are lots of things he wants to do to Jason right now, but Salim wants Jason to feel so loved and safe before he does any of them. To Salim that’s so much more important than the desire they are clearly both shaking with, to rip each other’s clothes off and just fuck here.

Jason starts whining again, with words this time, but Salim kisses him quiet. Soft and careful. “Habibi, we have time… we will have all the time in the world.”

He moves his hands down to cradle Jason’s face, “I want to take care of you. Will you let me do that?”

Jason blinks; looking like he’s about to cry again. He swallows and nods, “Yes.” How can he possibly say anything else.

When they kiss again it’s slower, softer, sweet kisses. Salim attempts to wind Jason back down, rubbing his back gently before pulling him into his arms. Jason buries his face into Salim’s neck, humming in content, he winds his arms around Salim in return.

He’s going to be safe. And Salim will never let him feel any other way.

They redress slowly – laughing together about messed up hair, and how they are both completely flushed: red lips and heavy breathing. It all fits into place, Jason feels like he’s known Salim all his life. It’s feels so easy to joke with him again like this: but it’s so much more intimate this time.

Jason sits back on his bed, revelling in the feeling for just a moment. Salim watches him; that small content smile on Jason’s face, sparkle in his eyes. Salim is just happy he put them there – he would never have regretted coming. But now he’s even more glad he decided to take the trip.

Salim walks back over to Jason’s desk, picking up one of the pens lined up in a neat row and a discarded blank sheet of paper, jotting down his contact details. “I’d like to see you again soon, Jason.” Salim turns with a wink, “Maybe spill some more military secrets.” Jason leans back on his hands, lazy smirk on his face, “Oh yeah? Maybe next time I’ll have to visit you.” Salim laughs, “I’ll wait for your call!” *** They kiss once more before they exit Jason’s room; and Jason makes it last, considering this will be the last time he can until they do see each other again. But this time it’s a guarantee. Jason never needs to confine Salim to a fantasy again. And whenever he does, he knows what Salim feels like now.

As they’re walking and laughing together as Jason leads him back to the gate, Nicky is walking the other way. “Nooooo way!” Nick laughs, “Salim! What the hell are you doing out here!?” Salim embraces him, “Nick, my friend! Just thought you might want some information I have, is all.” Nick looks across to Jason, who definitely can’t hide how flustered he is. He can’t believe Salim can be so cool about this like they weren’t two steps away from… “Uh huh. You’re definitely worth all the shit he’s going to get from Rachel for skipping out on her meeting.” Jason groans, “Did ya have to remind me? How was the rest of it?” “Boring as hell. The chewing out you’re going to get? Entertaining and worth it.” Nick claps his hand to Salim’s back, “Nice to see you again, going well? And your son?” “Out in London now and doing great! I’m doing well Nick, thank you. And you?” “Never better man.” He grins his sarcasm, “I’ll keep Jason in check don’t worry! Don’t be a stranger.” Salim smirks, “I won’t, I promise.” Then nods to Jason, “Thank you.”

Jason grumbles, “Alright, quit it!” Before he pushes Salim towards the exit, “He’s gotta go home!” Nick and Salim both laugh.

Once they are back to the gate, Jason can do nothing more than give him a lingering hug goodbye. “I’m going to miss you so much…” He murmurs. “I’ll miss you too, Ya Amar, but it’s not going to be forever.” “I know…” Jason hums; someone is going to have to teach him some Arabic, that’s for sure. “Thank God.” Salim lets him go, “Take care of yourself, Jason.” “You too, get home safe!” “Promise. Call me, as soon as you can.” “Oh…” Jason grins, “you know it!”

Salim and Jason wave to each other for as long as they can before Salim becomes a dot in the distance, and Jason watches until he disappears. He turns to the soldiers still on duty by the gate and takes a deep breath. “Next time he’s here you treat him with respect, okay? He’s gone through hell and back for the information he can give us.” “Yes Sir.” Jason smiles, “Thanks, gentlemen.”

When he gets back to the entry way to the building, Nick is waiting for him. Leaning against the wall, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, smirking. Jason stops; he knows that look. Jason is notoriously bad at hiding things, especially from Nick. And he doesn’t want questions. Especially not about Salim. He’s going red again, he knows, but he raises his index finger to Nick, “NOT a word, Sargent.”

Nick grabs his friend by the shoulder, pulling him into a one arms hug.

---

When Zain had signed up for this about a year ago, he didn’t realise how crazy Jason was going to be about it.

He knew training for it was going to be hard - a Marathon isn’t something to be taken lightly. But he expected it would just be something fun for them to do together – raise some money for charity, see some famous London land marks, run at a leisurely pace.

Really, he should have known better; Jason wasn’t just a Marine in very good physical condition, but running was his specialty. Zain had once thought this meant sprinting, when Jason had told him he’d been the fastest in his OCS class. But no, Jason was a great distance runner too. In fact, they often went running together around the parks and streets in London. So, what would be the difference?

Salim was obviously happy to see them continue to do things together as Zain got older, but he liked hanging out with Jason. He was a pretty chill guy – for an American. (Zain would still make little jabs like this even though Jason had been a part of his life for six years and been married to Salim for almost three of those.)

Jason, by all accounts, is kinda cool. (Which sometimes makes Zain wonder how his dad of all people managed to land him. Were it not for Jason being absolutely head over heels smitten for his father.)

He’ll be down to complete all Zain’s ridiculous side quests. Random band no one has heard of? Jason will go. Hike? Jason will go. Kayaking? Jason will go. Skiing? Jason will go. World’s longest zip wire? Hell yeah Jason will go.

Even all Zain’s weird little cryptid hunts, though usually Salim will accompany him on those too. And then they both seem to go into insanely protective dad mode. Which Zain appreciates, sometimes. (It’s also the reason sometimes he thinks it’s better to go with friends.)

It’s not that Salim wouldn’t do all the things Jason liked doing with him, or that Salim wouldn’t accompany them anyway. It’s more Salim will stay back while they try to “kill themselves” as he always puts it.

When it came to the marathon though, his father was much more the cheerleader. Jason would drag Zain out running around the park and Salim would sit with a coffee on a bench and wait for them to finish.

Jason had drawn up a whole schedule for training, he’d talked to Zain about having the right diet, how much he should sleep, and for the last few weeks he hadn’t been able to stop going on about pace.

Zain was expecting to go into this with a ‘we get to the finish when we get there’ attitude, but Jason wanted to keep to a specific time for each mile. He’d already dragged Zain up and down the country to 5Ks, 10Ks and half marathons for ‘prep’ and yet still, with a week to go, they all sit at breakfast and Jason can’t help talking about pace.

Zain groans and Salim chuckles into his hand. “Jason I get it! You’re crazy! I could have told you that the first day we met! But I’m not a Marine and you’re not a drill instructor; I’m not just going to be able to keep to this…!” Salim’s eyes flick between them. “[Don’t set him off Zain!]” It was the warning of someone who was probably also tired of hearing Jason talk about this. Jason narrows his eyes, “[Don’t you start!]” His Arabic was still shaky, but he always tried his best. “[I was asking him not to start!]” “[Can you both get a room?]” They both turn to Zain looking equally incredulous.

Oh dear…

When the day rolls around, they have to get up insanely early. Their apartment is also full of people considering Nick, Rachel and Eric all flew over to support them. Zain won’t say it to Jason’s face, but he’s glad the American made such an insane schedule for this week specifically because he doesn’t really feel that tired, in fact he feels great. Which leaves the two of them laughing watching Salim and the three other Americans stand in the kitchen downing coffee before they leave. Salim had drawn up a plan – seen as he’s spent so long studying the map – for all the places that the four of them will meet Zain and Jason along the trail. He’s got a bag full of snacks and water and medication and anything else that Salim feels they will need. In reality Zain thinks his father has done almost as much prep for this as they have.

The group drops them off at the start line sign in and they all hug goodbye and say good luck. Nick, Eric and Rachel hang back a bit to let Salim embrace them both for a little longer. “Please try not to kill each other out there.” “Ah, what’s 26 miles and roughly four hours?” Jason laughs, “Baby, we’ll be fine!” Salim and Zain share a look, before Zain grins, “We’ll be fine, dad! Promise! It’ll be fun…” Then he nudges Jason’s arm, “For the first 10 minutes.” But Jason laughs and nudges him back, “Oh, even 10 minutes?” “Mmm…” Zain raises his eyebrows. Jason shakes his head, before pulling Salim in for another hug. Salim winds his arms around Jason and mumbles something into his shoulder. Zain doesn’t hear it, but he’s sure his dad will be telling Jason to look after him. Salim runs his hands up and down Jason’s back before kissing his neck, then his cheek. He steps back and away from them and waves. “Good luck! I love you!” “Love you too!” Jason and Zain’s response is in unison and they both wave the group off before turning to check in.

It takes a long while to start, given the sheer volume of people: Zain and Jason spend their time stretching together and figuring out which playlists are going to last them the whole run. Jason has a fancy gadget on his wrist that he’s using to – of course – time himself. He’s set goals for each mile and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t hit them. Zain is 90% sure that he’ll make Jason miss them; but he’s not sure if Jason has been optimistic or overshot them with this knowledge in mind. He checks it for what must have been the 500th time this morning even though Zain knows that the numbers can’t have changed. Jason turns to him, with a little smirk, “Okay, Zain, I’m gonna run at your pace – only fair - but I’m also gonna be pissed if you slow me down!” Zain snorts, shaking his head, “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna let you and your tourist hat down.” Jason raises an eyebrow but ignores him. Today the cap he’s picked out looks like – and probably has – come from a cheap tourist shop. It’s navy blue, with ‘London’ across the front in red letters; behind the embroidered city name is an outline of the famous monuments and skyline. Jason would be nothing without his hat theming, but this one is just amusing to the young Iraqi. The only thing that Zain thinks will help him in this situation is that he’s somehow been blessed with height the rest of his family doesn’t have. And as Jason doesn’t even reach six whole feet, Zain has longer strides. He hopes this means that it will take less energy on his part than it will Jason.

Honestly though, he doesn’t imagine it’s going to make much of a difference…

Jason is a crazy person.

***

Zain keeps pace pretty well; though Jason thinks that’s probably because if Zain hears him mention it one more time Jason won’t last all 26 miles. His tracker has ticked everything off as green so far; and in some cases, they’ve been under his predicted time.

Jason knows they will need that though, when things get tough. They are both listening to playlists – and only talk occasionally. Jason does announce every time they are another mile down but never the number. Zain – given he’s got height on most of the other runners – has found he’s an expert at gently nudging Jason one way or the other to make sure they don’t trip over anyone on slower pace than them. And in return Jason does his best to give Zain a few sentences of encouragement every time he grimaces at someone pulling up with an injury, or he watches the barrier be pulled back. Jason places his hands on Zain’s back gently, “They’ll be okay, kiddo, I promise.” When he does this, Zain understands how Jason’s military trajectory had happened so damn fast. He also understands how this idiot managed to pull his dad in – sort of.

Despite all that coolness and bravado (and insanity…) – Jason cares. And Zain doesn’t think it’s just a byproduct of all his ‘Semper Fi’ loyalty. Jason takes care of the people he loves. (And that kinda thing was guaranteed to attract Salim. Even if it ended up meaning he somehow then married said insane American.)

Salim’s positioning on the barriers is always strategic; like he’s picked the points that he somehow knows the two of them are going to find the toughest. It makes sense; who knows Jason and Zain better than he does. Jason always immediately lights up when he spots him along the barrier and actually speeds himself and Zain up to catch the group as quickly at possible. They never really stay long. Grab a few things, yell thank you. Maybe a hug and, if Jason times it perfectly, he’ll get a kiss for his troubles too – but then they’re off again and to themselves.

When Zain starts finding it tough Jason slows their pace down. Zain questions if Jason is insane at this point. But Jason smiles, telling him they have time. The last thing Jason wants is Zain injured – or unable to continue. Apart from the fact Salim would kill him. Zain’s worked so hard for this too; the least he deserves is finishing this race: timings don’t even matter. If they need to stop and walk for five minutes while he gets the burning sensation out of his lungs Jason will let it happen; and he’ll talk Zain through it. Funnily enough, Jason’s voice provides good distraction – and his jokes may be stupid but they make Zain laugh and that’s all that matters.

When Jason receives his first orange sector, and he gets disheartened, Zain is the one to increase the pace. He says something about the app being slightly off kilter because there’s so many people and the signal must be crazy before making Jason chase him as he weaves through the rest of the runners. And then when there’s a little too long between sections where Salim and crew can actually stand, Jason also gets down about that. Which Zain always finds odd. Sure, when Jason is here they are glued at the hip, but Jason is deployed for months at a time. And his dad isn’t the one to go running with Jason. Still, Zain supposes when Jason finds something hard – it will always be his dad he would go to, for support, or comfort or advice. And there’s none of that here. Zain simply laughs to himself in these moments “C’mon Jason, really? This is like 4 hours of freedom where he’s not chastising you for doing something wrong around the house. I think you should just enjoy it!” Jason snorts in response, and although he tries not to, he grins. So Zain knows he’s hit the mark.

And then, finally, the finish line is in sight. Both of them have got their wind back – Zain thinks he’s heard it termed ‘runners high’ - and the last mile has been an absolute breeze; they’ve been really enjoying it. But finding Salim at the barrier here is the most important part. Zain and Jason had been throwing ideas around about how they were going to end this in style; and the one they’d decided on was running the final stretch with their respective countries’ flags. The symbolism is as much for their own family now, as much as for anything else.

Nick, Eric and Rachel are the ones making the noise. Salim looks more anxious than anything else as he stands with their flags over the barriers. Jason immediately tries to alleviate that, “Baby what’s wrong? We only gotta go around there!” “Are you two sure about this one?” They both tie their flags around their shoulders, “Dad, if we get in trouble, we get in trouble.” “Well I don’t want my boys in trouble!” Zain gives a shrug – and Jason wonders where the hell he got his chill from. This was probably Jason’s fault, actually. Salim looks like he’s about to scold him, but thinks better of it and ushers them on. If they want to beat a certain time, it’s no use them both wasting it talking to him here. “Now, go! Go! I’ll see you both at the finish line.” “Get there!” Jason pushes him gently from the barrier, “I love you!” Jason thinks that he hears it yelled back; but the two of them are already sprinting away over the final distance.

It's a few yards from the finish line, and Jason turns to Zain and holds his hand out, “Together, bud?” Zain grins back, grabbing Jason’s hand in his, “You betcha!” They must cross the line with exactly the same time and Jason immediately slaps his hand over his timing watch to stop it. “Soooo?” Zain peers over his shoulder, but Jason hides it. “It was okay… yeah.” “Did we beat your estimate or?” Jason gives a shrug, “Mmmhm.” Zain pushes him, “You wanna be straight with me or no?” Jason laughs and then holds his wrist out. Zain swears in delight, and Jason laughs in surprise – he’s just glad his dad isn’t around to hear it.

They’re both breathing heavily and exhausted when Salim finds them again, but they are both wearing their finishers medals. Flags draped over them. Salim watches other runners come up and speak to them; they all laugh and congratulate each other before moving on. At least neither of them appear to be in trouble. “Jason! Zain!” They both light up at the sound of Salim’s voice and he runs over to embrace them both, just like when they started. “[I’m so proud of you!!!]” “Aw dad…” Zain somehow squeezes them all closer together, “We couldn’t have done it without your support! And I couldn’t have done it without Jason’s training!” Jason ribs him, “Aw c’mon kiddo, no way I would have got through some of those miles without ya!”

Zain isn’t so sure, and as they break apart he hugs his father again. They speak in Arabic for a minute; Salim gushing about how proud he is and how important Zain is to him and how happy he must be – and Zain just beams. He’s heard all these things many times – but it still means a lot coming from his father, especially after such an achievement. Although, eventually Zain slaps Salim’s back and pushes him to Jason. For all Zain’s wondering about how the hell they became a thing it’s very obvious how well they compliment each other. Jason deserves to hear these things spill from Salim’s lips as much as Zain does.

Making sure that his father isn’t about to make it a three-way conversation again – and just in case he attempts to – Zain runs to Nick, Eric and Rachel who have stopped a little off to the side. They are all immediately yelling and hugging him in congratulations. Zain has turned as much into their kid as anyone else’s.

--- My boy's a winner, he loves the game My lips reflect off his cross-gold chain I like the way he's telling me My ass looks good in these ripped blue jeans My cheeks are red like cherries in the spring Body's a work of art you'd die to see

Break all the rules 'til we get caught Fog up the windows in the parking lot Summer love (ah, ah), sexy Sitting on his lap sippin' Diet Pepsi I leave a mark so you know I'm the best

---

Jason is adamant that things taste better in Iraq. It’s not something he would ever admit. Ask him and he would flat out deny it. Obviously.

He sits with his feet up on his desk, reading the report over. Today is slow, no one is about to reprimand him for being so casual as long as he’s doing the work he’s supposed to.

Sitting on his desk is a can of Pepsi. Specifically Iraqi Pepsi. And Jason can’t get enough of it. If anyone is going off base it’s the one thing he always asks for.

He pretends it’s because he misses a taste of home. Given Coke doesn’t agree with him, Pepsi is his soda of choice. If Jason needs a hit of sugar he’s reaching for that before anything else.

But that’s not really the reason. He’s asking because given a choice, Jason would take the Iraqi version every time. He doesn’t know if it’s just that it hits so good in the climate here, or if it actually tastes better. But it’s a rare treat. And Jason has become obsessed.

Cans were his preference but if it had to be bottled, he didn’t care, as long as he got it.

He picks the can up to take another sip, cradling it gently. Given how infrequently he can get hold of it, Jason never wastes a drop. And he also doesn’t like to share.

He flips the report page.

“Oh!” Merwin wanders across the room, “Jason! You got Pepsi. They fly it in special?” Jason’s eyes stroll from the sentence he’s reading to the corporal, and his head tips. He flashes the can,

“Nope. It’s the Iraqi version.”

“Man, you got me all excited for a minute there.”

Jason looks at it, watching the way the condensation droplets run down the distinctive blue. Arguably he’s holding the most exciting version. He was going to savour every second of it.

Of course, that’s not what he says out loud.

“Yeah… Geez, I wish I had the US version right now too, but-” He raises the can before taking another sip.

“Can I have some?”

“Hell no.” Jason holds the can well away.

Nick, sitting in the other corner pipes up, “He’s got like four cans Merwin.”

Nick knows Jason’s adversity to sharing. Which is probably why he said it.

“Oh, well you can just give me one of those.”

“No I can’t.”

“Why not!? You got plenty.”

“Because they have to last me until anyone else ventures out there.” Jason smirks, “Sorry to be one step ahead as ever.”

“C’mon Jason, just a sip.”

“You’re out of your mind!”

He shoots Nick a look, who is sitting laughing into the report he is reading now. Jason curses him internally before he realises he has no choice. Throwing the can back, he downs what’s left before slamming it back down on his desk. He thinks the way he stares at Merwin must make its point, and the corporal moves off.

Jason sighs in discontent, looking at the empty can. Damn, today was meant to be a good day…

***

Jason is adamant that things taste better in Iraq. The kiss is hot and heavy. It’s desperate. They’re both panting and stifling moans in an effort not to get caught like this. But honestly with the way Salim has him pressed against the wall Jason doesn’t care. He whines when Salim leaves his lips to kiss a trail down his jawline and neck. Eyes fluttering closed as he moves his hands into Salim’s hair.

This is like heaven. Jason has never felt this elated. Not with anyone.

Salim follows his own trail back, claiming Jason’s lips once more. There’s something warm and inviting about the way he kisses. Tender even when it’s like this. He can take Jason’s breath away without even trying. But in this kiss Jason feels safe. It doesn’t take much for Salim to coax his mouth open, and as his tongue glides against Jason’s, Jason can feel that warmth once more. It envelopes him, but it doesn’t smother him, and Jason relents to let Salim explore him.

He tastes warm and inviting too, it evokes something in Jason like… vanilla, or, cinnamon. Spice with a kick, but still sweet. That sounded about the right description for his partner too.

He wonders if it’s the temperature causing this; even the cooler night air provides little relief. If it’s just the feelings rushing inside of him. Or the body heat of the partner he’s sharing this with. 

Salim takes Jason’s hands in his, lacing their fingers together. Breaking the kiss so they can both breathe for a moment, Salim places his forehead gently to Jason’s. Breathing something over his skin in Arabic. Whatever it is, to Jason it sounds beautiful.

But Salim is a taste Jason craves, and it’s not long before he’s playfully begging for more. He’s flushed and his lips are swollen, but the man in front of him is all he wants. Salim chuckles, and Jason loves the way he smiles when he does that. Salim moves back in, granting Jason his request, and deepening the kiss once more.

***

Jason finds it less hard to admit that Iraqi Pepsi is as good as it is these days. He doesn’t mind telling people they need to try this version of the beverage whenever they enquire while he’s drinking it. But Jason still isn’t sharing.

This is still hard to come by on base.

It’s his own fault for leaving the can on his desk while he left the room. Even if said room was empty when he vacated it. Jason should know better.

Maybe he’ll decide to blame Salim for that, Jason’s guard is definitely a little down these days.

When he gets back, Salim is sitting in Jason’s chair, can in his hand. The can is already cracked.

Jason stands on the other side of the desk expectantly, arms folded.

Salim rolls his tongue over his lips before he speaks, and it becomes obvious to Jason that yes, he’s already drunk some.

“Pepsi, huh?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed slightly, “Yeah...?”

“Interesting.”

Jason points at the can, “That’s my Pepsi.”

“I don’t know about that. I found it.”

“It was on my desk!” Jason taps the top of it for emphasis.

Salim studies the can for a moment before taking a sip. It’s slow, and Jason realises he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“Ah, and so it was.”

 “You… drank my Pepsi!?!”

Salim knows full well that Jason finds this hard to get hold of, he’s heard Jason yelling after people leaving base for supplies.

Salim shakes the can; it doesn’t sound like much is gone. But he plays it up, tipping it so he can see inside, “Huh, might be some still in here…” before taking another mouthful.

Jason is clearly getting worked up about it, but that’s what Salim wants. If Salim was anyone else, he knows he’d have been yelled at by now. Salim is still studying the can with interest; “I suppose it’s not a bad soda. But I’d rather be sipping something else red, white and blue…” Jason gets the joke; this particular can is painted in thick horizontal stripes of each colour. But Jason can’t rise to it.

He can’t do much more than manage “My… Pepsi!”

Salim looks back to him, before patting his lap. “Well, if you come here maybe I’ll let you have some.” And he does it so casually Jason almost loses his mind. Shaking his head to clear it, Jason almost begrudgingly walks around the desk. He’s not oblivious to the gratuitous way Salim’s eyes wander down his body to watch him walk, either. Salim pushes the chair out from Jason’s desk with his foot, giving Jason enough room to sit down.

Jason isn’t complaining. Much. And he sits. Salim slips his free hand around Jason’s waist, adjusting to balance their weight. He pinches Jason’s hip playfully and the American shudders. Before muttering to himself, “I hope I weigh too much for you.”

Salim taps the can against his chest, and it clinks pleasantly against the metal buckles. “Now, Jason, that’s no way to get what you want, is it?” He downs another mouthful before shaking the can, now significantly emptier than before.

But Salim doesn’t have much of a resolve to keep it away from him, given the gentle smirk. He takes another sip before placing his fingers under Jason’s chin, coaxing the American’s lips to his.

Jason wastes no time; he understands what’s going on here. His tongue finding the droplets on Salim’s lips before being invited into his mouth; Salim adjusts his grip on Jason’s body, placing the can back on the desk so he can keep them balanced and stop Jason from moving around too much as he becomes immersed in the kiss. Now Salim takes like vanilla and caramel, there’s a sharpness to that sweetness now. And Jason just wants more.

Salim can’t help but laugh gently at Jason’s desperation for this flavour. But he’s also not complaining. Afterall, he also craves the feeling of Jason against him like this; a new found intimacy he hasn’t had in years.

And never quite like this.

Jason’s kisses feel safe to Salim too.

Jason pulls back, but it’s definitely not because he needs to breathe. He reaches back on the desk to take the can for himself, as he does so Jason’s shirt rides up, allowing Salim a teasing glimpse at his skin underneath. Salim has to grab his hips to stop Jason unbalancing them again.

Salim can’t help but love how victorious Jason looks when he finally gets to press the can to his own lips. He’s staring at Salim while he takes his first slow sip.

His little smile is of content though. He’s happy. Salim is glad of that.

The smug attitude can go, though. Salim pulls Jason’s body forward until he’s settled on Salim’s hips. Jason keeps staring down at him, head tipping inquisitively, before he takes another sip.

He shakes the can. It’s practically empty. He tips it back again, taking every last drop he can. Salim shakes his head as Jason unceremoniously throws the can back on the desk.

They stare at each other for just a few seconds longer, before Jason makes the same motion Salim had to kick this off; running his tongue over his lips.

Salim pulls Jason back to him by his shirt, “Oh no, sweetheart, you don’t get to keep that for yourself.”

Jason is certainly not complaining at the renewed harshness of Salim’s kisses.

---

It was hard to come to terms with everything.

Maybe it would be impossible at this stage. Maybe no one would ever quite make peace with it entirely.

It was just a lot.

Carter can’t even really compartmentalise it properly. Even though he just lived it. Witnessed it. Everything just seemed so unreal.

He holds both his hands out in front of him, turning them over slowly.

Even him, now.

Whatever this ‘wake up day’ is, it certainly isn’t a ‘happy’ one.

He sits in the quiet of the break room alone. Funny to think ‘quiet’ and ‘alone’ were of any comfort right now. But he suspects they all need time – and he certainly isn’t ready to talk about any of it.

He drops his hands back to where they rested previously on his knees, hunched over he stares at the letters in front of him.

‘H A P P Y’

Carter didn’t think leaving them on the banner made any sense anymore.

He sighs gently to himself, as if he wasn’t already an anxious overthinker - (And did Simms call him mopey...?!) – today certainly wasn’t going to help solve that problem.

He’s been sitting here so long that the lights have gone out, and he should think ‘creepy’ but instead he almost smiles at the thought that he can just exist for a second, and no one is going to find him if there’s no evidence he’s here.

Carter of course speaks too soon. The doors slide open, the lights snap on and someone walks in. He can bet this is Simms about to tell him to cheer up, or smile, or something with equal parts positivity.

Though, she would also hardly be one to talk. Everyone must be a little messed up.

The footfall stops in front of him and gravity boots come into his field of vision, just brushing the tops of the letters he’s staring at.

Silence.

Even though they are alone. She could say whatever she wanted.

Carter is still waiting for her to speak first. He expects if he looks up, she’ll be arms folded, giving him a look instead of verbally telling him. Maybe she wants him to come down to where the rest of the crew are. Maybe they’re having some kind of group therapy session.

“Yeah, I know, I know.”

His voice feels so loud after all the silence, even though he’s still mumbling to the floor.

He’s still met with silence.

Before Carter gets the notion of looking up, however, Simms bends down. And Simms isn’t Simms at all.

Carter leans back a little as Cernan comes into view.

Oh!

Carter half expects him to say something vaguely philosophical to try to make him feel better, but without it being solicited, silence remains between them.

Carter watches as Cernan gathers the five letters from the floor, before standing up again.  He glances at the now half empty string still dangling above the room, before crossing to the end and pulling it gently down.

Carter can feel his face pull slightly into an expression of confusion but remains quiet. He watches curiously as Cernan carefully reassembles his banner letter by letter.

Oh!

Cernan winds the string back in place and steps back. They both momentarily admire his handywork before he turns back to Carter.

Cernan gives a nod, before crossing back to where he is sitting. Carter wonders if he’s going to leave, but Cernan instead sits on the couch next to him – back supported – and breathes a deep sigh of relief. It’s a total opposite to Carter’s deeply hunched over position, sitting himself right on the edge of the seat.

Carter looks between Cernan and the banner again almost in disbelief. What would he even feel the need to do that for!?

Happy would never be the operative word anyone would use. That’s half the reason Carter took it down in the first place!

This time his focus remains solely on Cernan, expression inquisitive as still they sit in silence.

Cernan just stares right back, before patting the couch next to him, indicating that Carter should join him further back.

Would that make Carter feel better? He didn’t know. But he guessed he could use some form of comfort.

He scoots back a little, sitting deeper, but not quite ready to let his back touch the support.

They remain in the quiet – as if Cernan somehow knows that’s the kind of comfort that Carter is seeking right now. Carter isn’t sure how much time passes before he does it, but eventually he leans his body over and rests his head on Cernan’s shoulder.

The engineer doesn’t flinch, tense, or move at all.

Carter wants to pretend he doesn’t know why he chose to do it.

Unfortunately, Josef Cernan is a very easy man to find yourself taken with.

Carter closes his eyes, focusing on the sound of them both breathing. And then he feels it, a warm hand settled just about dead centre in his back, thumb moving in slow comforting sweeps. It’s nothing more than that, but to Carter it means everything – it’s exactly the kind of gesture he needs right now. He’s very glad he didn’t decide to place his back against the couch.

It’s Carter who eventually decides to break the silence.

“Some wake up day, huh!?”

Under his head he can feel the way Cernan’s shoulders roll as his breathing indicates his amusement.

“Yes. But we can take some happiness from it.”

 “That come from your book of Cernan-isms?”

“Ah, you’ve been talking to Cooper.”

Carter finds that he is in fact, smiling. It’s small, but it’s there. “That was a good one, and she’s right. I think I’d buy a copy too.”

Silence falls between them again, but it’s comfortable. Carter thinks about moving, but while Cernan isn’t complaining, he’s happy to take every second of this he can get.

That hand is still in the middle of his back.

Eventually Cernan does shift, but only so he can get a better angle to look at Carter from.

“I’m glad you made it.”

Carter’s eyes open, and he glances up slowly. He knows Cernan won’t be messing with him, but still, he can feel his breath hitch a little at the sincerity on the engineer’s face.

His cheeks tint pink, “I’m… glad you made it too.” And for some reason his mouth keeps running, “Though, I guess you’d get to your husband faster if…” Carter bites his tongue. “I’m sorry.”

Cernan continues to regard Carter for a moment, before looking away. And if there was a moment it’s long gone now.

Carter moves his head from Cernan’s shoulder, he knows better than that. Of all the things he could have chosen to say. ‘He’d be proud of you.’ Nice one. ‘You’d see him faster if you died?’ Awful.

He expects the silence to shift to awkward, but it doesn’t. Instead, Cernan considers Carter’s thought.

“Mikael… Can wait a little longer, I’m sure.” Cernan tips his head up, somewhere above them - all around them - are the stars. And Carter can imagine this is what he’s looking to.

“Well, I suppose he’s not waiting for me…” and as he falls silent Carter wants to be encouraging, reaching out, he touches Cernan’s arm lightly. “…You don’t know that.”

Cernan’s lips curve in a slight smile, and Carter is glad to see it back, “You’re right. I don’t. But perhaps I was meant for someone else. Who knows.”

Carter gives a nod of agreement. It’s not like he hadn’t been contemplating it himself: He’d spent four years missing Luna and his own wife. Forever watching their videos and wishing himself home even though it was exciting to be pioneers here. But his wife and Luna were not waiting for him. The actual Tomas Carter is back on Earth with them right now. They get to be happy.

No one is waiting for him.

Suddenly he realises that Cernan has been talking to him the whole time, still staring at the ceiling, and that invisible galaxy. Carter snaps back to his voice: “…these missions are important. And now I have the rest of my life.” 

Carter knows his eyebrows are raised in disbelief: “After all that!?”

Cernan smiles this time, eyes back on Carter’s own. “You need a better outlook on life! You meditate, right? We should do that together some time.”

Total silence falls between them again, and Carter can’t hold the gaze or the smile, although as he looks slowly down to his own knees again, he can feel how much wider his own smile gets just from the thought.

He suddenly feels gentle pressure, a little lower than his mid-back this time; apparently so comfortable with the sensation of Cernan’s hand there, that he forgot to feel it at all. But this time it’s a gentle pull, just the tips of his fingers, subtle but still there.

Carter hopes he’s reading the signal right, and his head settles back against Cernan’s shoulder.

The pressure stops.

“I’d… like that.” His cheeks are warm now.

The reply is soft, “Me too…”

They stay like this for long enough for the lights to dim again, that doesn’t bother Carter, but Cernan waves a hand to keep them turned on. The silence is comfortable. This moment is enough. He closes his eyes again, happy to stay like this for as long as Cernan lets him.

Happy to not be found, honestly, but that’s wishful thinking as the door slides open again. Carter immediately pulls away from his position, even though Cernan didn’t complain even once. Carter is a little too close, and he hadn’t realised that before now, but his attempt to shuffle away and separate them is halted by the fact Cernan’s hand is still on his back, and the grip is firm enough to hold him in place.

Simms walks in. She’s smiling at least – but it’s a tired smile, one that says she’s been through a lot. Carter wonders if they had actually all been in some kind of group therapy session down there. Cernan feels like he’d be good at talking people through that. Maybe they all sent him searching when Carter hadn’t turned up.

“Room for one more in here!?”

Cernan looks around, acting as if he’s searching for a space for her.

“I think so, if you’re quick!”

She wanders a little further into the room, indicating to the banner Cernan had just fixed after Carter stripped it apart.

“Hey! We still have cake!”

Carter raises an eyebrow, “That was the other ship, Simms. Remember?”

“AH!” She curses, “Well, there’s gotta be food here somewhere. We’ll make do.”

Carter momentarily ponders if there is any food left on this ship but doesn’t get very far before the room door slides open for a third time.

Anders and Cooper are also both smiling. Carter was definitely missing something, but he wasn’t sure what.

“Hey, a party is a party! If we’ve got food and banners, I say we can still have it!” Cooper looks to Anders, who responds to her friend with a grin,

“Who is going to stop us?!”

“Corinth? I mean, fuck those guys!”

Cernan brightens completely, “The more the merrier!”

And as if that was some kind of cue, Mitchell pops his head around the door, “Careful what you wish for, bud! Flight Crew coming through!”

Brianna, Eisele and Stafford follow suit.

“Oooh,” Cernan looks back to Simms, playful, “Now I really think you better get a seat!”

Carter looks around the room, despite everything they all seem to be in good spirits. He again feels like he’s missed a memo somewhere. He glances back to Cernan, now in conversation with Anders and Cooper – he’s going to miss the quiet moment now it’s gone, but it was nice while it lasted.

Simms sits next to him jostling him with what Carter assumes is an accidental nudge, but when he turns to her and notices the look on her face, he realises it’s a real bump.

“…What?!”

She continues to stare at him with this little smirk on her face for far too long in his opinion, before turning away like nothing happened.

‘You know.’ She says, without saying it.

Carter realises that the hand on his back is gone; and despite the fact he didn’t even realise Cernan had withdrawn it, he misses the heat and contact.

He takes a deep breath to centre himself, socialising isn’t really his forte, but for this crew, he’ll do his best.

Pretty soon they are all gathered around the table chatting, as if it were back in training. (Even though, Carter supposes, they’ve never done this before.) And it’s fun, it’s comfortable. It’s like it really had always been this way.

These friendships, and connections were real. Corinth wasn’t about to take that from them. They were alive. And now they were going home.

The door slides open again, and in walks Williams. The rest of the crew fall silent for a moment, although Carter senses less tension than before.

Williams looks around at them all; “What, are you expecting me to stop the party?” He raises his hands, and somehow, he’s managed to find some space rations, “You need food, right?”

There are several cheers from the group, and soon enough Williams has joined them too - now it’s a full crew party!

They are chatting and laughing, glad to be going home despite horrors and injuries and definite near-death experiences.

Carter loses himself in the enjoyment of the moment so much that he doesn’t realise how much he’s truly leaning back on Cernan until the engineer moves, brushing his arm against Carter’s side. It’s a little more subtle than what Simms had done, but it is most definitely to get his attention.

Cernan smiles at him, soft, warm and reassuring.

“You feeling okay?”

Carter doesn’t respond verbally, he just smiles. Not something small and unsure, but a genuine confident grin. And it’s suddenly the happiest he’s felt in a while.

--- Take me out tonight Spinning around just you and I Letting our chemicals collide Sending a chill right down my spine

---

The briefing room was quiet. It was a nice contrast to how loud everything in Jason’s head was. He was surprised the team that had interrogated them had left it so untouched. Although he could also bet if he really studied what was left here there would be no mention of Caelus, or the mission they had been on. It was supposed to look untouched, right? If they’d been obvious, they wouldn’t have been good at their job.

He wondered how long they would have to stay here now. SIRA were still monitoring them, although half of their gear had been packed away. Seemed like Eric and Rachel had brokered some kind of deal, but Jason couldn’t help but be a little suspicious of the whole thing. After all, everyone seemed to be dancing around the subject of what was supposed to happen with their Iraqi POW.

Jason lifted his head to look at the ceiling and the patterns and colours that adorned it. He felt a little bad that it was now full of cracks and holes the Americans had put there. He could bet it looked beautiful once. He usually struggled to see the beauty in things, but recently there’d been a couple of people that had taught him differently.

He winced; ‘you shouldn’t have thought about it!’ It all came flooding back, standing in here, harmless back and forth flirting, sitting across from each other in the helicopter, watching her be pulled away by those things, Rachel brought her back – but she was beyond saving. Rachel had told Jason he had abandoned her before, and he couldn’t do it… but he should have done it.

He had told Clarice once everything was over, he would dance with her in here, that’s what a ballroom was for after all. Jason had promised her… he had promised…

“Jason?” Jason was startled by Salim’s voice, even though he had called him gently. Jason’s head immediately snapped to the doorway. Although, Salim had been here long enough to have closed the door and be leaning against one of the columns. Jason wondered how many times he’d called his name before Jason had noticed. If he were honest with himself, it was probably only once, but it had pulled him from his thoughts. Jason didn’t answer him.

Salim looked around the room and then back to him, eyebrows pulled together in an expression Jason knew only too well meant he was concerned. Jason didn’t really want Salim to worry about him. He straightened up against the desk he’d been leaning on, back on his feet. “You’re in here all alone?”

Jason wasn’t really sure how to express it, eyes grazing the ground, he let out a breath that mirrored a laugh, “I don’t think I’d be great company right now.”

Salim ignored him, and Jason wasn’t sure whether it was stubbornness or if Salim was leaning more into his concern. The Iraqi walked forward slowly, staring at the ceiling.

“This is the famous ballroom, right? I’ve heard all about it… never thought I would get the chance to see it. Always wanted to come, though.”

Jason looked across to him, he knew Salim was trying to distract him from his own thoughts. Salim had a way of making all the noise in Jason’s head quiet again. But Jason’s had this conversation before…

And he didn’t really like the way that one ended.

Jason traced the older man, until he stopped adjacent to the deck Jason had been leaning against. Salim still hadn’t taken his eyes off the ceiling Jason had been studying earlier. Jason wondered what was going on in his head – but this time elected not to ask. He figured Salim wouldn’t really like to relive any of his conscription. Even if he’d always wanted to come here.

“Well,” Jason’s voice lay somewhere between genuine humour and sarcasm, “I’m sorry, I think we did a pretty good job of screwing this place up.”

“It’s still as beautiful as I heard it was…” Salim gave a shrug, leaning against the central table, “I guess now it has a certain American charm to it.”

Jason opened his mouth to rise to the tease but Salim didn’t let him. “I always wanted the opportunity to dance a little in here. Maybe. Never got the chance to be invited but… I suppose I’m standing in here now.”

The American froze, and he wasn’t sure what expression was on his face when Salim’s eyes finally lowered to him, but with the way Salim jerked back in surprise, Jason assumed he looked haunted.

“Jason?!” The concern was back, but this time it was far more urgent. Jason winced again in some sort of attempt to shove the emotion back where it came from, swallowing hard.

Salim knew that wasn’t healthy. And Jason knew he wasn’t about to let it go. “Tell me.”

Jason shook his head, but not a ‘no’. Just to express that it was going to be difficult to really talk about. “…I… uh. I promised someone I’d dance with them when it was over. They uh—” Jason rubbed his eyes even though he knew he wasn’t crying. “She didn’t make it.”

Salim remained gentle and patient, but, as he had with the checkpoint, he pressed again gently. “The woman we left behind? Who was infected?”

Jason felt a little numb, so he simply nodded.

Salim nodded back, in sympathy, before looking to the floor himself. And in the silence Jason found himself wishing that Salim would keep talking.

Almost as if he could sense this, Salim opted to continue once more, “Would you have liked to dance, Jason?” Salim couldn’t picture Jason as a dancer, but he knew he’d been wrong about the American before. Jason kept himself well-guarded; a shield indeed.

“Well, uh, I guess so. I mean, I’m in the market for a dance partner. So, if you’re sayin’ what I think y’are…” He laughed to himself in a joke Salim couldn’t possibly understand, “if you promise not to step on my feet, maybe we could try it sometime?”

Salim gave him a smile back – Jason hadn’t exactly answered his question. But he was sure Jason was avoiding it for a reason. Salim placed his full weight on the table behind him, digging his heels into the floor.

“I did say that I would have liked to dance here once. I suppose we could try it.”

Jason’s expression changed, there was something in the way he straightened his body up now. Attentive. Salim knew he had desperately latched onto the conversation. Jason felt safer here. Even if he couldn’t ask for that sanctuary. Salim wasn’t about to turn him away, though.

Under Salim’s weight and the angle he was leaning, the trestle table below him was giving way, pushed slowly across the ballroom floor. For a moment Jason didn’t notice, but every so often Salim would adjust his stance, only to slump back to the same position. Jason looked to the floor, realising the legs of the table were shuddering as they were pushed. “What are you doing?” He raised an eyebrow, but Salim’s eyes remained locked with his. “Nothing.” Jason gave him a minute to rethink his answer, but Salim kept silent. Eyes not moving from Jason’s until the table juddered slightly under him and he had to pause. The American sighed, “Do you want some help!?” Salim patted the top of the table, before looking back to Jason, shaking his head, “No, but you’d like to dance.” He looked to the space he’d been creating in front of them, and it was only then Jason realises how large the gap had become, “And I would say we need some room in here to do that.”

Jason’s eyes darted back to Salim’s face in surprise, “You mean like, now!?” Salim’s expression remained patient, “Yes Jason, like now.” Jason didn’t even think before he was sprinting to the door, halting before he wrenched it open, and ran back. “I have some music, it’s just in my room – give me like five minutes!” He took a couple of steps and then turned back, “I’m sorry, I- I didn’t mean to run like that! I- I’d love to dance with you.”

Salim shook his head, looking after Jason as he exited the room, Americans…

***

Jason came back a few minutes later with a portable stereo and as many CD’s as he could carry in one hand. He’d clearly been rushing, by the fact he was a little out of breath. The table Salim was still sitting on had been pushed all the way back and left plenty of dancefloor space for them.

Salim was tapping his foot and humming as Jason moved back across to the desk he’d been leaning on to dump everything. But Jason stopped, tipping his head just to continue to listen.

Salim looked up to him slowly, but didn’t stop whatever melody he was humming along to. And by the smile appearing on Jason’s face, Salim didn’t dare. He simply smiled back – which only made Jason’s grow. “You singin’?” Salim only stopped then to respond, “I guess I’m humming.” He shook his head, “I don’t think my son would say I could sing.” Jason pressed his lips together, squint a little disbelieving, “I bet you can. You seem to know a lot about music.” “I can read it, that doesn’t mean I can play it.”

Jason laughed as he set his stereo down, opening the top to place in the CDs, he waved the jewel cases around. “Unfortunately, I don’t have as much as I thought - swapped them out last time I was home, but, these are still good.” They may not have been the best choices for this, but it was a small collection – and he would much rather dance with music than without it. He set them down to load in one by one; his stereo had a CD changer, so, they wouldn’t need to worry about moving to change anything. And he could also shuffle it.

Jason stepped back, waiting for it to load up and turned back to Salim. He was now sitting with his foot up on his knee, propping his head up on his hand, saying nothing and everything with the look in his eyes. Jason paused again, watching him, “What?” Salim replied honestly, “You.”

Jason continued to stare back, unsure of how else he was supposed to respond. He still wasn’t used to it yet, receiving love like this. Salim always said it unconditionally and Jason always had to tell himself that was how it was supposed to be.  

Salim knew internally it made Jason feel uncomfortable, but the only way he would get comfortable would be to keep hearing it. The key was not to let it sit with him too long. He stood, taking Jason’s hand in his and pulling him a little closer.

“I owe you a dance, it seems.” “I don’t think that’s how it goes. I owed her a dance, so I owe---” Salim’s look said he wouldn’t be argued with, so Jason swallowed it back, “So you do.” Salim laced their fingers together, “You know how to dance?” “I can dance.” Jason narrowed his eyes, “Can you?” “I fear that our idea of dancing isn’t the same thing.” “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Before Salim could answer, probably with as much sarcasm as Jason could expect, his attention wandered to Jason’s stereo. “Oooh, so this is what you call music back home, huh?” Jason’s head tipped as he recalled the conversation deep in the alien city. Salim gave him a smile that Jason knew was going to be followed up with a jab. “I think I preferred what the vampires had going on, honestly.” Jason flared, defensive, “Look it’s all I have! I can’t believe you can say that - this has gotta have way more scales in it, what did you say, they had two?! C’mon now.” The amused look on Salim’s face only grew. “Oh you’re messing with me now?” He gave a cute little shrug, “About time I did.” “Shut up!” Jason knew his cheeks were red, “Alright then, what would you listen to?” “Most of my favourite songs are in Arabic… But, I like classical music. Jazz, sometimes.” If Salim was relaxing with music, he often didn’t want words. “Of course you do.” Jason sighed, then added, “Well; I can listen to anything, but this is all I have on me!” “Jason, it’s fine.” “It kinda felt like you were insulting me.” This time Jason’s voice held a tone that Salim knew now was a joke. “Habibi, please, it’s just teasing.” “Huh!” Jason yanked him closer, “Now put your money where your mouth is, dance with me.” Salim’s eyes glinted, pulling Jason centrally on the floor; “Try to keep up.”

The music was up a little louder than Jason probably ought to have it, especially if they didn’t want to be disturbed. But that allowed Salim to focus on what was going on with the melody. His idea of dancing was what this ballroom was built for. A story to a set of steps, a series of decisions between he and a partner to create a dialogue; prescribed usually by the tempo of the music. Jason’s music didn’t fit that ideal, but it did fit what he expected Jason to be dancing too. Jason walked with a rhythm. Salim had watched the way his hips moved many times. Probably more than he was comfortable with admitting. Salim assumed he would look good on a club dancefloor; but he also wouldn’t mind being pressed up against Jason like that.

Despite all of their bravado towards each other, their partnership started off shy. Jason knew all the songs, but Salim didn’t, which meant it took a few seconds for him to figure out what kind of dance was appropriate for the moment. Neither of them were really sure how best to hold each other – mostly because Jason wanted to be polite about it. He wouldn’t lie to himself he wanted to grab Salim and hold him closer. But only if that was comfortable.

The older man’s attention stayed on the music, not on Jason’s face, and his hands moved gently to Jason’s waist. Jason tensed for just a fraction of a second, hoping it wasn’t noticeable; but it was obvious that Salim lightened his pressure until he relaxed again. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.” Salim dismissed it with a shake of his head, voice gentle. Jason placed his hands over Salim’s, to invite him to place more pressure on his waist, before sliding them up Salim’s arms to his shoulders. Salim rubbed his thumbs over the fabric of Jason’s shirt as they began to sway together to the music; the movement was more effective in comforting Jason than he would have thought.

That checked out. Salim wasn’t like any other partner he had before, dance or otherwise. Jason was still getting used to being loved like this.

Salim’s eyes were back on his, and his hands gently coaxed Jason from just swaying to stepping from side to side, and eventually with pressure in the right place, into a gentle revolution.

Jason almost laughed; this felt so much like a High School dance. The type of thing where the chaperones would always tell the teens to ‘Leave Room For Jesus’. But it was pleasant; simple, and basic, and exactly how they needed to start.

He liked that, it felt so worlds away from where they really were that it was the perfect antidote. And when that feeling escaped as a true laugh, Salim laughed back – even when Jason felt like he couldn’t have understood the joke. It was strangely comfortable, to be there in that awkwardness. It felt right, to begin that way – everything was still so new, they had speed run the whole start of this relationship and now they finally had the opportunity to slow down and breathe. Really get to know each other; they had time now…

The songs changed, but remained slow, as if the stereo knew what was needed in the moment. Jason’s hands moved from Salim’s shoulders to caressing the sides of his neck tentatively, and Salim pulled him a little closer, hands lowering and moving to the small of Jason’s back. He gave a little nod and Jason worked his hands around to loop behind Salim’s neck. They were a little closer now, but still staying in the same space, and still in a swaying motion - a few feet this way and that but nothing more. But they were fully lost in each other’s eyes – and for once Jason didn’t feel like he had to guess what someone was thinking. He didn’t feel the need to ask. Salim seemed to project that happiness effortlessly. Jason at least hoped he was able to express something similar.

There wasn’t much distance between them now, but Jason knew his cap was going to get all the way in the way. Pulling back slightly, he unlinked one of his hands to flip it backward – Salim’s hands didn’t move; they simply kept him steady. Jason responded in kind, returning his hand to behind Salim’s head.

He was going to apologise for pulling away again, but Salim’s expression told him not to dare. Instead, Jason let out another breathed laugh, before closing the gap between them and placing his forehead against Salim’s. The Iraqi man let out the same kind of laugh before his eyes fluttered closed. Jason realised Salim must have felt comfortable enough, felt safe enough with Jason to do that – to really let his guard down. Salim lightly pushed up against him to increase contact and Jason couldn’t help but feel flattered.

Jason knew he’d fallen harder. And he still didn’t feel good enough… he was nowhere near worthy of this, after everything he’d done. Still, Salim was here. And he wasn’t looking at anyone else.

He felt embarrassed to think it; with his immediate reaction to hide; moving his head away from Salim’s only to bury it in his shoulder. Hands slipping down to Salim’s chest – under Jason’s fingertips he could feel the Iraqi’s steady heartbeat. Salim didn’t open his eyes, but placed one of his hands over Jason’s before delicately lacing their fingers once more.

“I know, Habibi…”

And that was foreign to Jason too. Not having to say it. Having someone truly know him. Salim had seen the best and the worst of him and he’d decided to stay…

Salim moved his head to rest on top of Jason’s and it was only then that Jason decided to let go; to close his eyes as well. ‘It’s okay. It’s okay to be loved like this. It’s okay to be valuable. He’s not going to judge you. Maybe he’s the only one who never will.’ This repetition was not designed as a lie – not even to himself. But if that’s what would help him believe it, Jason would repeat it forever.

“How much of this is country music?” Salim broke the silence, but his voice was still quiet to let the songs take the attention. Jason could hear the joke; “You stereotyping me now?” Salim gave a shrug, grinning, “I think, from what I know, you fit most of the rest.” Jason rolled his eyes, “What, Nick been talking?” He huffed. “Used to. You changed that.”

A further few songs passed with them locked in this state and neither of them would have been bothered if they’d stayed that way forever. The music was secondary.

Nothing like snapping them out of it than a complete tonal shift in song. Jason looked back to the radio, moving his head from Salim’s shoulder he raised an eyebrow.

Oh.

Salim followed his eyeline as Jason straightened and adjusted his cap to the correct way around. Under his fingertips he could feel Jason’s physical change from vulnerable to confident. And he didn’t have time to question it before Jason was pulling Salim’s hips against his by his belt loops.

Oh!

Salim was startled – but that quickly faded. After all, wasn’t this what he expected from the man in front of him. Dancing like this. As Jason kept his hands on Salim’s hips, Salim felt it was only fair to reciprocate. He watched the tiny smirk flash on Jason’s face and he understood: that was how Jason wanted to be touched. Right now, listening to this song anyway.

Salim tried to listen to the lyrics, but he was a little caught up in the way that Jason was moving him. He felt like a (more than willing) passenger to the roll of Jason’s hips; starting side to side, before a more circular grinding motion.

Salim wasn’t arguing or complaining at the change in tone or attention. But Jason wasn’t looking at him; Salim wasn’t troubled by that – he didn’t want him to stop. He dug his fingers into Jason’s hips a little more, making Jason’s breathing hitch; one sharp inhale before he somehow managed to pull Salim even closer. Jason’s focus was in the same place Salim’s was trying to be. And he caught the lyrics very low; but Salim could still hear them rolling from Jason’s lips. ‘…I'd say I got it bad… Sideways and I'm slippin'… them curves, they make me crash… Into you is what I am, leaving's what I ain't… I think I love you ’s what I've been tryna say…’

You think? Salim was paying attention to the rhythm now; he was into it. The beat almost demanded to be danced to in this way. Jason’s vulnerability was gone and Salim knew he wasn’t going to see it back any time soon. The time to savour that was over, and now he was savouring something else entirely.

But with the way the younger American was moving up against him, Salim was worried this was going to end with Jason being pushed over a table. And that wasn’t the point of this…

“Jason.” Although his name didn’t come out of Salim’s mouth the way he had expected; and that only encouraged Jason to practically roll their bodies together. Salim felt like he was being danced on rather than danced with.

It was hard for Salim to say he wanted this to stop – Jason had his confidence now, he was comfortable. They understood each other in this scenario. He pushed back, hands on Jason’s own hips creating distance enough to ask for control. This time they rocked together, and Jason let Salim grind him back, turning into something akin to a Latin ballroom dance move - using his entire torso to pour some more heat into the sexual tension. Jason’s breathing hitched again, but it had made them lock eyes. And Jason’s look was playful. He’d play the game. He didn’t know the movements but he was a quick enough learner to match what Salim was giving him. Now it was much more sensual. Jason would take the change just for the way Salim was looking at him right now. Wondering if he should just turn the music off and call it an early night.

“Jason.” Salim could read that like a book, the growled undertone of his voice meant to be a warning but to Jason’s ears only serving to ignite the feeling inside him further.

His hands snaked back to Salim’s hips, but the older man wasn’t having it, grabbing them with a shake of his head. “[You need to learn patience.]” Jason raised an eyebrow and almost scoffed, “Oh, you think speaking Arabic is going to make me stop? I’d argue that would make me worse.” “You’re right, my mistake.” “I don’t think anything you do would make it better, honestly.” “Jason!” “Fuck, man… look at you.” The song changed, mercifully, and before Jason could whine, or even go to flip it back a track, Salim moved their hands to a different position, and widened the gap between them. He was thankful the next song was energetic. This was the kind of song he’d been thinking about dancing to when he’d asked.

This time he could pull Jason around the room, he’d already learned Jason was receptive to the steps Salim was giving him and this was no exception. It was fun to lead, it was fun to watch Jason both match him, and change his dialogue. It was a back and forth. A partnership. A relationship. Together they had built a type of chemistry, a bond that allowed for a performance like this. But it was rare that at any point as they danced they weren’t touching. Constantly reaching for each other’s fingertips as soon as they pulled away, one movement to the next that flowed together so effortlessly. It didn’t have to be close to remain intimate: their hands could touch, but they were constantly moving across each other, pulling apart and back together.

Salim was confident enough in Jason to give the lead back, and now they had broken away from their spot, Jason was happy to lead them back across the dance floor. Always using his hands in subtle indications of where he would move them next – easy to pick up on, it felt like something copied over from military signals. Now they didn’t have to talk, Salim could simply mirror the signal as they switch control back and forth.

This was about letting go, and having fun, and getting so wrapped up in each other that truly nothing else mattered.

There were more than a few times they would pull together again, dancing closer, bodies pressed against each other. But it felt more playful this time, more for enjoyment than desperation, they were both grinning, both laughing. Just enjoying the music and each other’s company.

They could revel in each other: and not just the feeling, but also in the dance. Both were impressed by the others footwork. Anyone could sway to music, but this was really dancing.

Jason was smooth and free flowing to Salim’s precision – it didn’t feel like it should work, but it did. Just like them.

Salim didn’t know any of these songs the way that Jason did, but Jason would throw lyrics around every so often and Salim would understand why. They made Jason think of him. Jason wanted him to pay attention to those lines. It was cute, it was endearing, to know he was thought of like that. Jason wasn’t always the best at expressing himself; but through these songs – these lyrics - he was doing so now. One day Salim knew he’d be able to reciprocate – to share his favourite music with Jason too. But some of the lines that Jason was singing… Salim felt he could sing them right back.

On the very last song they listened to, there was an instrumental guitar loop, begging for people to take their partner and twirl them in time with it. Salim felt it would be rude not too. Although he wasn’t sure Jason expected it, given the blush dusting his face after four consecutive spins.

Salim’s chuckle was affectionate, “Are you okay?” “Y-yeah.” Jason’s grin was bashful, “Could you… do that again?” “Oh…” Salim acted like he was thinking hard about it, “I suppose so.”

Jason could have been so done then – he was breathless - he didn’t think he could have been happier as Salim pulled him back in again. He’d felt elation like this before. But only ever thanks to the man holding him.

--- Don’t turn on the lights I’m missing the days when you were mine Filling the darknеss in my mind You know I love those haunted еyes

And feeling you breathing Always creep in All the scars you left never leaving I believe it When I’m sleeping all alone, I Dance with your ghost 'Cause I’m way too scared to let go And I’m shaking down to my bones When your shadow’s breaking me I’ll Dance with your ghost 'Cause your echo’s killing me slow And I try to run but I know When your shadow’s breaking me, I’ll Dance with your ghost ---

Jason stood alone in the briefing room this whole mess started in. It had been a few weeks since. But everyone else liked to avoid this room like it was cursed.

Jason understood that – papers and computers and diagrams relating to the mission were still scattered all over. Desks and belongings related to people that didn’t make it out of that Hell no one could quite bring themselves to move…

Jason supposed, as the CO of the squad, it would be his responsibility. But it would take time for him to feel healed enough to start that. If he ever really felt healed at all.

He was leaning against one of the desks, feet crossed in front of him, balancing his weight equally. He liked this room – maybe because he knew he was guaranteed to be left alone in here. No one else wanted the quiet, but he did.

He had too much to think about, and no one he could really talk to about it. Not anymore. Even Nick wasn’t going to be able to help him figure this one out. In honesty, Jason didn’t want the help.

He stood with his hand up against his mouth, staring at the central table. It had started with a light-hearted joke, banter, heck maybe it was flirting…  

But all that resounded in his head now was ‘Maybe when we're done, I'll let you spin me around a little.’

It seemed weird to think Jason wouldn’t mind that. In the midst of trying to figure out if it was all real in the first place, being haunted by things he could never truly unsee, wading through a muddle of emotions and grieving… that he wanted that dance.

Jason thought it would help him. Because sometimes he did just want to forget. Have a moment where nothing mattered but the moment. He’d tried with music, but sometimes closing his eyes would just bring him right back to being down in those caves. It wasn’t enough to be a refuge.

The silence of this room was. Something that, for the moment, was just his.

His brown eyes rose slowly from the table and traced around the room. He wasn’t taking anything in; at least nothing based in reality. The radio was on in the background but Jason had it so low he could barely hear it.  

He didn’t need to; he’d always had rhythm.

And the quieter he was, the less likely he was to be found here.

If Jason truly let himself go – and in this room he could detach from everything around him - then he could see them.

Apparitions of people he knew. His team, buzzing about taking over the camp, intrigued at first by Rachel’s CIA involvement and then Eric’s satellite. But that faded quickly.

The music in the background served one purpose. It was for dancing. Except Jason had no one to dance with.

Clarice came to him first, but she’s fleeting, just enough to cause a guilty twist in his gut before his head and his heart decide on the bittersweet sucker punch.

Salim.

The thought wouldn’t leave him alone. He was what’s truly haunting Jason. So close, so far…

Jason may have let him go, watched him walk back to his son, but he’d never truly let him go…

His angst came from never getting to fulfil that promise. He doesn’t get to dance with her – Jason took her life reasoning that it was better than ending up like Joey did.

But he didn’t get to dance with anyone else now either. All he had ended up was a man alone in an empty ballroom.

It didn’t matter to Jason. He could see it.

Things he shouldn’t be seeing, but he’s glad he was.

Something like shadows or ghosts that travel gracefully across the room. Two shapes that sometimes blend into one with how close they are. Perfect synchronicity, moving to the rhythm like it was written for them. Moving together as if they were made for each other. And maybe in another life, another timeline, Salim and Jason had been.  

He could feel it. Every time the vision of Salim moved his hands over Jason’s body as they continued to dance, bodies pressed up against each other as they twist to the beat of the music: something intimate, something romantic, something sinful… Jason groaned for a touch he yearned for, and it burned his skin like it was real.

These phantoms he saw were not just dancing together, they were having a dialogue that Jason never got to say. Their fingers entwined; the sparkles of joy in their eyes, the way they both smiled. That’s only reserved for each other. Jason was sure he’d never looked at anyone like that in his life. But he was also pretty sure if he ever were to, Salim would be that person.

They were the only two in the room; whenever Jason saw them, they weren’t surrounded by other dancers. He knew that would never change the way they were looking at each other; but it felt so for show. They were flaunting how happy they were, how much they enjoyed each other’s company. The exchange of the dance displaying how well they knew each other.

Salim was the partner he never got to have, in every sense of the word. It was funny to think of the hours stuck underground as fleeting, but Jason would have done anything to get them back now. To make them last longer. To somehow convince Salim to stay.

He wanted this so badly.

Salim pulled him closer again, movements subtler, a gentle sway – fingertips rubbing soft circles into Jason’s back. He was looking at Jason with more care than Jason’s ever seen in his life. A shiver runs up his spine. Jason’s gut twisted again, but before he could pull himself free of what he was seeing the track changed.

This dance was professional. Steps precise. Jason couldn’t recall their names or even where his head was pulling this from. This was something that took years of practice; but it felt so natural between them. Like even in a few hours, they had known each other for a lifetime. This was a story, a back and forth playing out as they progressed across the room in harmony. They didn’t touch often this time, but it seemed more intimate than when Salim’s hands were all over him. The space between them was playful, something they were both using to their advantage as if enticing the other to cross. It was clear from the way they looked at each other that it was taking a great deal of restraint not to traverse the line.

Too late for that. Jason had crossed enough of his own for this and he’d keep crossing them if that’s what it took.

The track changed once more. And although it was on low, Jason was so caught up in the vision that the lyrics latch onto him even when he could barely hear them.

They’re enough to conjure images of dancing a little too close. There was no space between the spectres. The translucent lines blurred into one at all points that they touched. Salim’s face was buried in Jason’s neck, one hand on his waist and one running fingers through the ends of his hair. Both holding Jason in place as they grind to the beat of the music. Jason’s hands were caught up in Salim’s shirt too, digging into the fabric – he was pulling him closer. As if that was even possible. They melt together; they are one.

It was a little too much for the real Jason to take and he found himself scrabbling to turn the radio off. Even when he’d done so, for a few seconds the vision wasn’t broken.

The two of them continued to haunt him for just a little longer, there was breathing room between them again, but they were holding hands and they were laughing. Like nothing else in the world mattered.

And Jason wished for nothing more than to be an apparition like them. His heart hurt in his chest and he clutched at it.

After everything he had witnessed down there, it was Salim that followed him around. Lingering just out of reach at all times.

Jason wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to truly let the Iraqi go.

He was lost to Jason now, but Salim would remain part of him forever.

***

In Badra-Mandali life continued fairly normally. As normal as life could for a single father trying to get his teenage son ready for university abroad.

Salim tried his best to forget the events near the Zagros mountains. They were just far enough away not to be a constant presence in his mind. Even if the shadows he double checked in every room told him something different.

He told Zain a very brief version of the truth. Captain Basri showed up, they ambushed some Americans, the ground fell through, and they had to work together to get out of an ancient temple they found themselves trapped in. He tried to make sure to keep his focus to the temple specifically; and he’d been right – given Zain’s studies he was extremely interested in that part.

Salim didn’t leave out his unlikely friendship with Jason. In fact, that was the most important part of his story. How could it not be? More than anything he thought it might help Zain to know that Americans could be friends too; students would be coming from all over the world to Highgate University after all. And some would probably be from the US. They weren’t all bad people.

Salim could be biased when it came to Jason though. That was less friendship and more… something else. At first Salim was hesitant to call it love. It felt too sudden and too fast. That wasn’t nearly enough time to feel so strongly about someone. Maybe it was the situation. But the feeling didn’t fade. Of all the terrible, awful things he could remember from that day – the one constant was always positive. Jason was always there.

Salim wondered how he was doing. Wondered if Jason was even in the country anymore. He wasn’t sure how the US were going to deal with what had happened down there. He guessed Jason would have a lot of questions to answer, but after that? Would he leave the Marines? Would he stay?

Salim wasn’t even sure if he should be pondering these questions. Not as much as he did.

When Zain was around his focus was there; but Jason was never far. In the back of his head. And sometimes right on the tip of his tongue whenever Zain discussed something that Salim thought Jason would be interested in. But Salim always paused long enough not to let it out.

Jason was gone. It shouldn’t have mattered anymore…

But when Zain wasn’t in the house - and today he wasn’t, he was out in town with his friends – it got a lot harder not to think of the young American man.

The visions that haunted Salim weren’t like the ones Jason had. They were all much more domestic. And Salim fought them. He tried to.

Today he’d also got his radio playing softly, and he was slumped over the kitchen table, head resting on his arms. Today he’d let them flood his mind.

The house was cozy, so it was easy to watch these apparitions move from room to room. Jason was always animated and excited – just like in the elevator. Because outside of his military protocols he could be. He wasn’t where he called ‘home’ anymore. He was truly home. Jason filled spaces in Salim’s heart that he wasn’t sure could be filled anymore. And he was always there. He was helpful. He was close. Salim couldn’t hear the conversation; his mind couldn’t conjure that. But he knew it was about their future, about the plans they had: together and with Zain. But when Jason laughed? Oh, he could hear that.

It echoed in every part of Salim; it made him smile. But it was a sad smile.

He could see them at the kitchen table. Jason sat across from him, hair a mess, precisely placed bruises adorning his neck – not ones he hides – the shirt he’s wearing was Salim’s. It was too late to think about what could have been if Salim had tried to convince Jason to come with him; but a rush of excitement can’t help but shoot through him every time he does.

Then they’re on the couch, and Jason is entwined with him like he’ll never let go. They say everything… they say nothing. Watching some show in a language Jason doesn’t understand yet – but he will. Salim ran his fingers through Jason’s hair, and Jason looked content.

Salim realised he wasn’t exactly sure what Jason’s hair was like. He never took that damn cap off. He wondered if it’s very short and close cropped, or if it has some length to it the way Eric’s did. Salim hoped it was the latter.

Not that it mattered.

Sometimes, and just sometimes, Salim’s ghosts matched Jason’s beat for beat. The dancing was close and intimate. Slow, spinning gently almost in place. Sometimes in the living room and sometimes in the kitchen. But always so close – like neither of them wanted to let go. Fingers entwined in ways that make it hard to tell which belonged to who. A union.

Salim would take his hand and spin him, looping his arm over Jason’s head as he did so. The gesture was romantic. Jason laughed again; this one gentle. Salim could still hear it even if he never got to in person. Jason pulled himself closer once more. They looked at each other like they were the only other thing in the whole world…

Jason stayed.

Or more accurately, Jason didn’t leave.

Salim had to look away, his sigh of discontent despite the fact that he knew he could get drunk on these images. He could drown in them and he would feel just fine. He buried his head in his arms, and squeezed his eyes shut. But that didn’t help, Jason could find him there too. Those images much more real, running around in the darkness – saying or doing something incredibly dumb… but always able to say something just as smart. The checkpoint. Salim thought that conversation would stay in his head for eternity – oh, how he wished he’d reached out and held Jason close.

Then he would know what it felt like.

He wondered if Jason had ever been told it was okay to feel emotions like that. If Jason were here, like he was in the apparitions, Salim would let him know he was allowed to now.

Salim liked to think if he moved rooms they would simply disappear, but the phantoms were present everywhere now he’d let them in. And when he moved to his bedroom there they were again. The chatter felt nonsensical. Jason was sat on the end of his bed swinging his legs lazily as Salim finished getting dressed. Jason watched every movement Salim made as he navigated the room to pull on various items of clothing. Salim crossed to Jason before he left, taking Jason’s hands in his he kissed all his knuckles – it was tender, a different form of worship. Before he dropped them and rose. Jason was on his feet before Salim could get to the door, and blocked his exit. It was playful. And as Salim found himself trying to get past, they were locked in a different kind of dance. Salim watched his own feigned annoyance, but by the light in Jason’s eyes he wasn’t buying it. Salim wasn’t sure if he relented or Jason was just forceful, but he took a few paces back. Jason closed the distance, wrapping his arms around Salim’s shoulders. It didn’t take long for Salim to reciprocate, arms strong around Jason’s waist. They swayed in place.

And it was then that Salim realised the song playing on the radio perfectly encapsulated the moment.

He shook his head, smiling to himself.

He might have been living in a fantasy right now, and he wasn’t sure if that would ever change. Maybe Jason would fade with time… Maybe Jason would truly never let him go.

For half a heartbeat Salim wondered if he would ever see the American again. If there truly would be a chance. Salim’s military career was over; he’d made that vow. If Jason stayed in Iraq…

He kept watching the vision in front of him, as they merged into one union again.

---

We could give it a minute But what's the fun in a minute? When we could push all the limits

Both hands wanna hold ya So, baby, what's the hold up?

Can you feel the tension rising? Now you're, now you're getting in close Almost love, it's almost love Speed this up 'cause I'm excited No more, no more taking it slow Almost love, it's almost love

Almost love, but it could be love

I want you like a kiss that's long and overdue I need you more than I have ever needed you

---

It took four months for Jason to touch down in London. Two of those were spent back in Iraq, in grilling interviews with what felt like a revolving door of people. Same questions, same answers. Jason told it so many times it didn’t seem real. It felt like a fever dream.

He never lost sight of Salim but Jason second kept guessing himself. Did he really want to meet? Was that a figment of Jason’s imagination? It’s the only thing that kept him going - whatever it was.

After signing God knows how many NDAs and being given constant orders of who can know what, under which circumstances, they were all sent back to Quantico. Same plane.

The flight was gruelling. Jason normally could sleep fine on a plane but not this time. Not even when he tried curling up into a position he’d deem more comfortable. The only reason he pretended to be asleep was so he didn’t have to talk to anyone. He thought it was a mercy that all five of them were dotted around the cabin and not near each other. Hours stuck trying to process that as a group might drive Jason to literal insanity.

When they landed no one felt much like interacting with each other. Jason was glad - because his only thought was getting home and booking that flight. They’ve surely exhausted all they can say about the experience? Apparently not. As they have 3 more weeks of tough questions, to which they can only give the same answers.

Before they were all finally allowed on leave. Told they would be monitored. And that it was in their best interest to stay in the country. Jason wasn’t sure if that was bullshit or not, but the second he arrived back home he was online booking the flight. One whole month in London. Left in two weeks. Expensive, non-refundable.  Impulsive.

What could those assholes do? Stop him at the border? He’d take that chance.

Over the next two weeks Jason found himself glad he didn’t sit on it. Every time he thought about London, he panicked. But he wasn't going to waste that money. Didn’t stop the fact that the thought of getting on that plane scared him.

If he had the option, he would have backed out.

Too many thoughts had been allowed to chase around his head. None of them good.

‘How could he possibly have meant what you think he did?’

‘He probably means as friends.’

‘You’re not good enough for him.’

‘How could he love you?’

Jason thought he’d heard all that somewhere before… in a not too distant past he’d rather forget…

*** Jason took three days to pack his bag. Feeling in such a state of delirium the whole time, he had to repack at least twice to make sure he had absolutely everything he needed. Trying to remember that it didn’t exactly matter if not; he was still going to be in civilization.

When the day finally arrived to take the flight, he wasn’t sure if anyone was tailing him or not. But Jason counted how many seconds the boarder control took to check his passport. Not nearly long enough for him to be flagged and he got through without issue. ‘Yeah, fuck you guys.’ He thought to himself with a small smile – and they didn’t delay him getting on the plane either. But boarder control wasn’t the hard part. The hard part would come when he touched down in 7 hours.

The flight was somehow easier. He’d been plagued by weird dreams the past few months – who wouldn’t be after what they all saw. But Salim was always there. And Salim always got him through it – Salim was why they didn’t feel so much like nightmares to Jason.

But Jason was worried, worried that he wasn’t getting the way Salim looked right… or the way he sounded right. It just made Jason more scared that he was forgetting him.

Would Salim have been forgetting Jason too? What if he forgot the promise? What if… even when Jason got there… Salim wasn’t waiting for him at the British Museum.

What if he’d be spending a month in London for no reason at all?

They were all questions he kept asking himself and nothing could drown them out. Jason supposed that no matter what, he was going to have to face the answer…

*** Despite his resolve, and his desperation for answers telling Jason that he needed to get on with this, (After all, if he was waiting, Salim had been waiting four months for him already. How long was he going to keep that up realistically?), Jason didn’t leave his hotel room for two days after he landed.

He could blame it on the jet lag, the butterflies, the fact he can barely sleep, but in reality he was just trying to fight all the thoughts in his head. To finally gather the strength within himself to make it out of the room and to the museum. Jason was prepared for this, he’d researched his journey carefully – the underground station he’d need, and the walking route. But instead he was lying in his hotel bed staring at the ceiling and thinking the same things over and over.

What if Salim forgot? Or changed his mind? What if whatever feelings he had simply fizzled out: all they were was a part of the situation they had been thrown into? Or if he simply wasn’t there? What if he’d given up on Jason a long time ago?

Jason had been thinking about this man every day for the past four months but there was no guarantee that would be reciprocated.

Jason found himself – and not for the first time – caught between two warring notions: The need for answers, to know where he stood, to know if there was a chance to be something more with this man. And being scared of the answers he was seeking not being what he wanted – that in the end, Salim would be just like everyone else.

What if this whole damn trip was for nothing?

Trouble was, Jason also knew there would be only one way to find out; and it wasn’t lying here.

*** The following morning Jason set his alarm early; Salim had said 9am, so Jason had to make sure he was there on time. Not one minute later. He was four Underground stops away, and from maps he’d looked at the walk wasn’t long. Jason guessed maybe 30 minutes all around for him to get there; shorter if he walked fast. But he wouldn’t bet on himself doing that.

He left the hotel at 8am.

Four stops almost seemed trivial. But his hands were shaking the whole time he was buying a ticket and on the escalator ride down to the platforms. ‘Pull yourself together dammit, you’ve been through worse where you didn’t even break a sweat. You’ve been through worse with this man!’ What was it about Salim that made him feel like this? It wasn’t that Jason couldn’t put his finger on a million reasons that floated to the top of his mind, but, Jason had never had a crush – or partner – that got him this bad. For him, that just made the situation worse. He studied the maps for both platforms as if he had no idea where he was going, and at least two trains going the right direction departed before he took the right entrance. 3 minutes; not a lot of time to wait but a hell of a long time to overthink. Jason was trying not to get ahead of himself – asking ‘what will I even say?’ was replaced in his head with ‘am I sure I’m taking the right route?’ … Jason focus!

When the train arrived, he thought about standing but decided with the way his body was still shaking, sitting would be the safer option. Jason clasped his hands together to try to aid that, but the bounce of his leg had his whole body vibrating anyway. He kept his head down, glad of his cap to shield his face. Jason felt like his heart was going a million miles an hour – funny, he thought only drugs would have been able to help him achieve that – and despite the fact he knew none of the other passengers had any interest in him, Jason felt like he was a spotlight centre of attention.

Before he knew it the train pulled into Holborn station. Jason lifted his head at the announcement, looking towards the doors as they opened. ‘Alight here for the British Museum.’ He had every intention of getting off. He had every intention of standing and walking out of there and completing the short walk he’d studied every inch of on the map for the past two weeks. But his legs wouldn’t move. With the way he was feeling Jason couldn’t physically bring himself to alight the train. Somehow in the fight or flight battle going on between his head and his heart, freeze had won. And he couldn’t stop it. The train answered with a series of warning beeps - this is your last chance… if you’re moving, do it now! Jason watched the doors close almost in horror. He couldn’t do it. He’d got all the way to London and he couldn’t even get off the damn train.

As it pulled out of the station all his anxiety melted away, and Jason forced himself to think more positively about it. This was one step better than the past two days where he couldn’t even leave his room. He’d get there. He would try again tomorrow.

He looked at his watch, yeah, tomorrow would be good.

Jason alighted at the next station and crossed the platform to get the train back to his hotel. Despite the fact it would take him back past Holborn station, he didn’t even bother trying. He realistically still could have made it for 9am. If Salim was there at all he wouldn’t have been leaving at 9:01. But Jason clearly still needed time. And he was okay with reasoning that to himself.

He’d been too nervous to eat before he left, so once he arrived back to his hotel Jason ate before deciding that it was no good sitting inside his room all day again. Jason had purposefully booked a hotel in the touristy part of London after all. Why not do some exploring? A walk in the fresh air would do him some good, and Hyde Park was right around the corner. By the end of the day Jason found himself in a pub two beers in, and he felt much, much better. He’d try again tomorrow…

*** Jason didn’t make any change to his morning routine the following day, he got up early, showered, dressed and was out the door by 8am. He at least felt a little less nervous this morning, though he definitely still didn’t have an appetite.

He opted to sit once more on the train and did a lot better with calming himself down in the four stops to Holborn. No shakes. And Jason found he could stand before the train even came to a stop in the station. So far so good.

Once outside he knew exactly where he was going; Jason had a map in his pocket as back up, but he was determined not to use it. Straight up, left, straight, right, straight up, left again and by that point he should be skirting the edge of the museum anyway and he’d only have to find the entrance. Jason walked with his hands in his pockets. He still had half an hour to complete a walk he assumed would take him 15 minutes if he kept walking slow. He was still trying to decide what to say. ‘Hi’ seemed too simple to start off a conversation with a man who four months ago changed his whole world.

Was there even a way to begin this conversation appropriately? Maybe he’d just have to leave it to Salim and hope the Iraqi wasn’t facing similar issues.

This nonsensical chatter was wending its way around Jason’s brain, but it was keeping him preoccupied. Just up head he spotted trees; the splashes of green and leaves over hanging the sidewalk really looked a little out of place against the sprawling city backdrop. He walked a little slower, looking up at them – this little haven of greenery really shouldn’t have meant much when he’d spent the previous afternoon in a much bigger one, but Jason was glad to see it. It meant he was going in the right direction, after all.

He swung himself around the corner, got a few more steps and-- Immediately his hand flew out to catch the black railing to steady himself, doubled over. It was like everything suddenly came crashing back down on him at once. And Jason felt as if he was going to be physically sick. He bent lower as his body heaved. Jesus… Of all the things to happen now! Crouching he still clung onto the railing; making himself smaller. His body now shaking for different reasons, head hung more in embarrassment than anything else. His stomach fizzed – but he knew it was nerves making him feel like this again. Fuck-! Was he just destined to never actually get to Salim? What if something like this happened every single day for the next month?!

Tears smarted at the edge of his eyes, but Jason wiped them away quickly. No, that was stupid.

It took him a few attempts to stagger back to his feet, and he carefully made his way to a bench in the park, before collapsing on it. Jason placed his hands on his stomach, taking slow deep breaths against his erratic heartbeat. It’s okay, you’re okay.

He waited for the nauseous feeling to fade, but every time he thought about getting up his body gave a violent shake and it set in deeper.

By the time Jason did feel well enough to move, he checked his watch. It was a little past 10am.

Fuck!

***  For his third attempt Jason did things a little differently. If he didn’t have time to think about anything for very long, then maybe his thoughts wouldn’t catch up with him until he was already at the museum. He was running on the last minute, or as close as he could bring himself – Jason was a Marine after all, being late was never an option. Salim had done enough waiting.

He made it to the front of the museum at 8:55am. Jason had practically run the first few streets but he’d slowed himself down the second the museum was in view. It was much bigger than he expected – Jason surmised you could spend a full day in here and still not see everything. No wonder Salim had decided on a time so early in the morning to meet. Jason followed the general crowd around to the iron gates and into the massive courtyard in front of the steps to the museum entrance. Salim had said to meet him at ‘the door’, but hadn’t specified inside or outside. Jason kept walking forward, much more curious about the building than the people swarming around him. It was already so busy. Jason dragged his eyes away from the architecture and sculptures to the crowds. Tourists like him, people in large groups that looked like educational tours, and those just meeting their friends. But several lone people crossed his path too. Jason stood in one spot and slowly turned in a full circle, eyes flicking from one face to another. He willed his heart – which had started to race again – to slow down, but it wasn’t listening. Jason was starting to feel jumpy as he looked from one direction to the other. What if he was remembering Salim’s face wrong? Even if he found him; was it going to be casual? Would it going to be awkward? What would Jason even say!? Would he end up spilling every feeling he had immediately? He finished his full rotation with no luck. Hands on his hips he tipped his head, searching the faces of the small groups scattered on the museum steps.

Jason caught the eye of the person he was looking for before he even realised it. There was a split second where neither of them even saw the other, despite the fact they were staring at each other.

Salim was standing at the bottom of the steps with a direct eyeline to the gate, and Jason wondered if he’d been watching him from the moment he walked in. He was wearing dark jeans, a shirt over a shirt – dark green over black, with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms. He looked good.

Jason couldn’t make himself move. His reactions had set him to freeze again. He tried to take deep breaths, but they came out as short, sharp shakes.

If Salim was reacting anywhere near the same way he wasn’t showing it. As calm and collected as ever; he stared back at Jason – dressed in jeans and a blue shirt relatively the same colour as when they’d first met, his cap was different; navy blue with white text ‘USMC’ emblazoned on the front. Some things are never going to change… Salim’s face softened and he smiled.

That was all Jason needed; he just ran. And it was almost like there was no one else around. It was almost like no time had passed at all. They'd only known each other for a few hours back in Iraq, but... Jason hadn't felt joy like this before. He wanted this feeling all the time; he wanted it to feel like home.

Jason couldn’t help it; his arms flew out. He couldn’t think of a better expression, he couldn’t think of words, he just needed this man.

Salim didn’t protest. He caught Jason’s hug and didn’t even move an inch. For a moment there was nothing, and then Jason felt two arms wrap around him too. Jason couldn’t imagine what he looked like - he hid his face in Salim’s shoulder – there was a part of him that didn’t want to, a small voice in his head he’d tried so hard to change over the past few months. This time he could push it back where it came from.

“Sa-lim-!” Jason wasn’t even sure what the sound he made was. It was like every emotion ever just came rushing to the surface to make a word. It was high-pitched elation mixed with choked crying. And relief. He’s so happy Salim’s here.

Salim chuckled, and it vibrated through Jason’s body. It was summer sure, but that’s not what was making Jason so warm. “Hey, Habibi.” Salim decided to make a joke, “I was wondering how long you were going to make me wait.”

Jason mumbled into Salim’s shoulder, eyes closed, he never wanted to let go. It was a little hard to hear when his accent was mixing with his emotions, but Salim is focused entirely on Jason. “ ‘m sorry… I got scared you wouldn’t be waiting.” Salim was amused at the younger man’s confession, but he didn’t laugh. He held Jason securer, his voice lowering, and his tone was reassuring when he spoke. “Jason, I’m 40. I can’t afford to mess around and play games with my heart anymore. Of course I was waiting.” Jason felt stupid, and when he responded again his voice was slight choked. “ ’m sorry.” One of Salim’s hands found the back of Jason’s head, and in response Jason tightened his grip, “You don’t need to be sorry. I know what your head is telling you. I know you, Jason.” Jason knew how true that was, because he couldn’t even reply. Not with words anyway; more of an affirming groan.

As long as Jason’s arms remain around him, Salim held him there. He’d do this for as long as Jason needed it.

In honesty Salim would have waited much longer than he already had done. He’d been living over here with Zain anyway, getting him settled at University. He didn’t have any intention of going back to Iraq soon. Not when everything he had was in London now. Salim was fairly confident that Jason would have arrived eventually. He wasn’t going to give up until he was sure that Jason wouldn’t show.

Salim didn’t let go of him, he waited until Jason had enough himself, and untangled his body from Salim’s arms. They stood in silence for a while like that. He knew silence was what Jason needed right now. Always better to let Jason come to you. And Jason would; he’d done it before. Once Jason was standing straight again, he took a deep breath, eyes not really meeting Salim’s still – and he continued to feel hot - “It’s good to see you again.” “Likewise, Jason. You doing okay?” “I…” Jason wasn’t sure how to answer – he could pile on irrelevant information on how he was doing in general, how he’d felt since he set foot in England, and the trials to get to this very moment. Instead he hesitated, laughed, and this time his eyes did meet Salim’s; bright. “I’m doing a helluva lot better now.” Salim grinned back, “I understand that. I guess me too.” He nodded behind him, “Do you want to check out the museum? I saw you studying it.” Jason looked back up at the structure, “Yeah, I guess that’s why we’re here.” “Well, we don’t-” “No, no I want to.” Jason insisted. Salim’s smile only grew wider, “Okay, let’s go.”

They walked up the steps together; they weren’t holding hands but they might as well have been with how close they were. Jason’s skin brushed against Salim’s and the Iraqi couldn’t help but remember being back down in the alien vessel: ‘We can’t lose sight of each other’ ‘I ain’t going nowhere.’ He wondered if the same thoughts were going through Jason’s head. Probably.

“So,” Jason began, “How’s Zain doing?” Salim very nearly tripped up a step; Jason asking about his son unprompted was very unexpected. “He’s…” Salim could already feel pride swell in his chest, “He’s settling here well. Class hasn’t started, but he’s been exploring university grounds and they’ve set up some activities for the students to meet each other, so he’s been doing that a lot. We’ve done a few things together. He really loves it here.” Jason watched his face, nodding along, “Do you think you’ll stay?” Salim gave a shrug, “I… want to go back eventually. I’m… a bit homesick. But, with Zain here, it might be more of a case of living between the two.” Fleetingly Jason wondered if he could settle here too, but the moment came and went before he could think too much on it; he wanted to keep the conversation going. To not overthink, for once. “And how are you doin’ otherwise?” “About as well as one could expect to be after an experience like that. But, I’m happy you’re here with me now, too.” Jason tipped his head in a motion representing ‘I hear ya.’ But Salim noticed the little smile at his addition that Jason tried to hide. He’d done that so often back when they’d first met too. Salim wanted to tell him he didn’t have to hide anymore. But that was something for Jason to work on... They entered the building, both looking in different directions as they swept the entry way. Jason concluded he was correct. This building was huge and there was no way to get around everything in a day. His eyes fell on an information desk with a stack of maps. It made the most sense to look at that and figure out what they most wanted to see. Salim was still staring at the various staircases, so before Jason had a chance to voice his suggestion he was met with, “So, where would you like to start?” “Well I don’t know what’s here.” “I wont lie, Zain and I came here to scope it out. I… have some guesses on what you might be interested in.” Salim almost smirked, “If you trust me?” What kind of question is that? Jason tilted his head again, but Salim’s smirk kept growing and Jason wondered whether he was getting messed with here. His eyes narrowed and he raised an index finger in Salim’s direction. “If there is one fuckin’ thing in here on Sumerian mythology, the House of Ashes, or vampires I’m gonna scream.” Salim chuckled, “Aw, and that was my planned first stop.” Jason didn’t need words - just looked at him incredulously. Salim grinned back, “Ah, that’s right you never want to hear my jokes.” “That wasn’t fuckin’ funny!” “It was to me.”

*** They had a chance to have small talk while going around the exhibits. Jason was doing a pretty good job at remaining focused on what was in front of him, and Salim didn’t want to push anything that would pull Jason’s attention. Let alone get deep into serious conversations; but the more they wandered around the more restless Jason became. Salim saw this coming a mile off; he didn’t seem like the kind of man to frequent museums often. If anything, Jason was doing this for Salim’s benefit; but he wasn’t complaining. A break might do him some good, so as they walked between exhibits Salim suggested they stop at the café. And when Jason admitted he hadn’t eaten yet today, Salim gave him the same look Jason imagined Zain got when confessing something Salim didn’t agree with. “Jason!” - yeah that was definitely a scolding voice. He simply shrugged, smile a little sheepish. He got nervous – no better excuse needed! Salim only let him off because Jason looked kinda cute when he smiled like that.

Salim paid, but Jason was annoyingly insistent that he should. “Jason, you’re visiting me, so that’s bad manners.” “You gonna do this the entire time I’m here?!” Jason received the same look and found himself shutting up; it was irritatingly effective.

Once they were settled at a table Salim waited until Jason started eating to initiate any significant conversation. He noticed how much more relaxed Jason seemed now; he hummed gently as he ate, but he was comfortable in the silence between them. But by his posture; Salim knew he was still on guard, behind those pretty brown eyes Jason was alert to his surroundings. Ready to act in a split second if necessary. Marines… Salim wondered if he could ever switch that off…

It had been hard for Salim once too, but once his priorities had changed to Zain he found it much easier to leave his military career at the door. He was glad he would never have to pick it up again.

Maybe, eventually, Jason could be like that too.

Salim took a sip of coffee, still staring. There was something very easy about Jason to look at – countless details he couldn’t possibly have noticed in the darkness underground that he did now. Jason had an uneven pattern of freckles across his face, his eyes were a lighter shade of brown than Salim’s – the colours running through them striking in daylight (whenever Jason wasn’t hiding them under his cap), the details of both his tattoos – although whatever was on the top of his right arm still remained mostly covered under his sleeve; Salim wondered to himself if Jason had anymore hidden under his clothes, but stopped himself from taking the thought too far. Now he’s seated, Jason was tapping his foot to an unheard melody; Salim wondered if it matched whatever he was humming. And Jason must have known he was being watched by the way he raised his eyes to Salim’s now. Jason tipped his head, and Salim could already hear what was coming. I can hear you thinking. “About you.” Salim answered before it was even asked. Jason was caught off guard enough to almost choke, but it turned into a laugh. “I’m not goin’ anywhere.” “Well, that’s good to know.” And Salim was serious about that. “Not gonna stop you starin’, huh?” “Like you could stop either?” He’d noticed Jason found it incredibly hard to keep his eyes on anything else when they’d been exploring together. Jason looked away, “You do own a mirror… right?” Ha. “Do you think I’m attractive, Jason?” The American became much more interested in what he was eating, and Salim breathed a laugh. That was quite enough teasing him for now.

He gave Jason a couple of minutes respite, before he lowered his voice. “How long did they keep you for?” Jason wondered if Salim felt someone might be listening to them, but decided to completely ignore this concern. At this point if anyone was following him, they already knew who he was talking to. “Four months, all around. I’ve been at home 2 weeks, then I came here.” Salim’s eyes widened a little at the revelation. Jason hadn’t stopped thinking about this for four months, had he? Salim couldn’t say he’d been able to stop thinking about Jason, either. “Hard questions?” The younger man shrugged, “Same questions. But when you hear ‘em five hundred fuckin’ times they start to get real old, real fast… apparently they’re still monitoring us.” Salim folded an arm across his chest, other hand keeping his coffee cup close to his lips, “Oh yeah?” “Told us to stay home.” Jason seemed incredibly proud of the fact that he’d defied that order. “So I’m going to get you into trouble?” Jason’s little smile became a full smirk, “You’d be worth it.” Salim raised an eyebrow, taking another sip, “That so?” He received a nod in return, “Uh huh.” “And how long are you here?” “Ticket back is for a month from now…” Jason thought he needed to promptly voice that he couldn’t extend that, he needed to set expectations with the man in front of him now. “Non-refundable.” Salim’s eyes wandered the table for a moment as he considered this, before locking with Jason’s again, “Probably for the best, you’ll be sick of me by then.” Jason didn’t miss a beat before he replied. He didn’t even seem to think about it, shaking his head and resting it on his palm, “Nah, don’t think I’ll ever get sick of you.”

Jason didn’t expect Salim’s eyes to leave his again, and he shifted slightly in his seat. Jason found surprise hitting him full force as Salim’s smile turned nervous. There was no possible way that Jason made Salim nervous? “Well, we have a month to find out.”

There was something under his tone – but Jason was aware whatever it was was an important conversation for another time. No use getting so deep in a museum café – not before either of them were ready. He tucked it into the back of his mind. Besides Jason wasn’t so sure his flirting was the thing making Salim nervous. Jason slid his hand across the table and rested it on top of Salim’s, “Hey.” He brought the Iraqi’s eyes back to his, glad that Salim didn’t pull away from him. “I mean it. I never want to find out.”

Salim opened his mouth again; he had a million ways he could be self-detrimental. But the hard-set frown on Jason’s face made him hesitate. He could tell this American man was about to be just as stubborn. Instead, Salim hung his head, “I’m sorry… Jason.” “For what?” Jason picked up his fork again, “You of all people ain’t got nothing to be sorry for.”

Salim found himself staring back at Jason again as he finished his plate. Jason’s hand didn’t leave his, so Salim slid his fingers to enclose around Jason’s. He realised he didn’t exactly know how to say thank you. Even if he didn’t believe what Jason was saying, it was obvious Jason believed it with his whole heart. But giving him space and time? That was Jason’s way of showing patience.

“Where do you want to go after this? You got anything else interestin’ to show me?” Jason indicated to the map with his fork, and Salim was snapped out of his staring. He was changing the subject on purpose. Pulling Salim out of a spiral Jason knew only to well. “Uh, yeah…” Salim used his free hand to unfurl the map again, and started pointing out the sections they hadn’t been to yet. Jason listened and nodded along enthusiastically, even trying to have some input when Salim turned the map around and asked if there was anything else he’d be interested in. The whole time, his hand never left Salim’s. And Salim squeezed it gently, watching the tiny smile lifting at the corner of Jason’s mouth as he talked.

Salim knew no matter how this went it was a long hard road ahead for many reasons. But Jason would make it bearable.

Hell, in moments like this, he almost made it seem easy. ***

Jason was only going to leave because he had to.

They both kept saying this to themselves over the course of the next month, a constant reminder that it wasn’t forever. At least not right now. At a couple of points Jason had announced, money be damned, he’d stay. Salim – much as he didn’t want to – had to be the level-headed, sensible one and tell him it’s ridiculous.

“Jason you almost DIED for that money!”

Jason’s mouth said he doesn’t care; but Salim wasn’t ready for Jason to take that kind of chance for him yet.

The past month had been nothing short of wonderful, as they’d learned about and gotten a little more used to one other. It was reassuring for both of them to know the spark ignited four months ago wasn’t fleeting. The bond they’d formed had only become stronger.

There wasn’t a day they had been apart – even if the moments they got together some days were brief. After all, Jason was aware that Salim’s priority should be Zain here.

Zain knew Jason existed; from what Salim had told him. But Jason wasn’t sure it was time to make the step to meeting him yet – he wasn’t sure he was prepared.

By this point Zain was busy with classes anyway, but Jason promised that next time he made it to London, if Zain wanted, they could finally meet.

And there will be a next time. Jason was already thinking about returning to the US just to book his next flight back. Even if Jason’s head was telling him he could have deployment notices waiting, his heart was fully in the driver’s seat. And even when he left, Jason knew his heart would stay in London.

***

The month had flown by. Jason felt like he’d been there four seconds, not four weeks. He could hardly believe that he spent the first few days anxiously holed up around his hotel. It was worth it; the payoff was so worth it.

They’d hit most of the tourist areas by now. Jason had moved hotels a couple of times, but that had always been his plan, and it allowed them to explore different parts of the city. The closest Salim had ever been to his hotel room was standing outside the hotel reception when walking Jason back at night. Which Salim insisted on doing even when Jason professed, as a Marine, he’d be perfectly capable of doing it himself. It had been fun – Jason couldn’t remember ever having this much fun with anyone doing anything in his life ever.

All good things must come to an end, and on Jason’s last full day in the city they met up early in the morning. Jason didn’t want to waste a single second that he had left. But he also knew how hard it would be to say goodbye, and he wanted a clean break. When Salim offered to take him back to the airport, Jason declined. He knew that would make things impossible – if they took a car or taxi Jason was going to refuse to get out. If they took the Underground and Salim walked him into the airport, Jason wouldn’t let him go. He’d miss his flight and then they would be back at square one. The very thing they are both (apparently) trying to avoid.

Jason tried to be honest about why he didn’t think it was a good idea, but he also tried to lessen the blow by mentioning something else he’d been a little uneasy about the last few days. If he really is being monitored… Salim isn’t fooled, and doesn’t take that as a serious consideration for even a second; ‘Habibi, at this point, they already know about me.’

Either way, the last thing either of them wanted was for Jason to be marked AWOL. That had the largest consequence here, and both of them knew it.

The conversation on his final morning was a little more heated. Mostly because it was confusing to sort through. They were both trying to figure out how they would communicate after Jason went home. Neither of them wanted to leave it on a ‘I’ll meet you in X place at X time’ note again. It worked this time, but there was no way either of them could be expected to wait that long again. Salim knew Jason was probably incapable of doing so, realistically.

Telephone or cell didn’t seem likely. Jason wasn’t even sure if US to Iraq communication would work; and even if he was, he’s even less sure that every conversation wouldn’t be heavily monitored.

Letters felt like the same issue. How long would it take someone in the US to receive something with an Iraqi post mark. Could he be sure that it’s not going to be read on the way to his house? Jason’s all too aware of how many people are just like he used to be. He wasn’t even out of the woods yet; he knew it was something he would have to work on every day.

Jason discussed email too, but Salim suggested that a computer was not a commodity that he had easy access to.

There was silence, but Jason felt like he was about to start clutching at straws. He couldn’t wait to be back in Iraq to be able to contact Salim either. His mail was going to be under even more scrutiny if it reached Jason on base. And he didn’t even know when he was likely to be back in the country. The last thing Jason needed was someone to be alerted to (or God forbid, alert SIRA) the fact he was receiving mail from an Iraqi civilian. Salim needed it even less.

It was also not a guarantee anymore that Salim would be there when Jason was. When he was going to live between London and Iraq it still made things hit and miss.

Which was why Salim suggested going through Zain. He’d given Jason all the contact details. London was safe for them both. It would be like having a third party go between. Jason thought that was going to put unnecessary pressure on Salim’s kid, but Salim promises it would only be temporary; Zain surely wouldn’t mind for a while, until they were both safe to contact each other again. Or better, in each others arms.

And apart from that he’s all out of suggestions.

Jason couldn’t help but be dismayed, flailing his arms, “How are we ever going to make this work?!” He doesn’t mind complicated, but right now there is no end in sight of them always having to use Zain. With time delays how long would they both have to worry about the other until they received any form of communication. Salim wasn’t going to let Jason start getting stressed on his final day here, “It will. We must have some faith. Hope even. We both want this Jason, it will work.” Besides, it wasn’t like either of them were about to leave this to chance; it could be resolved, it might just take some patience. If Jason had any. Jason lowered his hands, staring at him, “I thought you were meant to be the sceptic! I never heard you talk like that before.” Salim smiled, leaning forward, “Well maybe someone told me hope is all we have left.” Jason laughed, trying not to let his own influence on Salim go to his head too much, “I think I said “got left”…” He received a smirk back, “Yes Jason, and that isn’t grammatically accurate.”

Their last day together was just as amazing as all the others had been. Salim made sure not to drop Jason back to his hotel too late, after all Jason needed to pack, and get a good nights sleep for his long travel day tomorrow. When he mentioned this, Salim gave Jason a look that made the American swear to do just that.

They spend too much time outside of the hotel entrance dancing around saying goodbye. Even if it won’t be goodbye, it felt hard for them both to actually utter the word. Last time they did this, Jason chased him down. It was the only reason they were both here now. And this time it was Jason that had to go back home.

Salim didn’t say goodbye, but he said the next most difficult thing on his mind. The one he wasn’t sure Jason would be receptive to. “Jason…” The pause hung for a little too long, but the younger man didn’t prompt him. Salim’s voice seemed to shake a little bit and it swore Jason to silence. He was nervous again. Although this time it was accompanied by a faint blush. Jason was making him nervous. Again. Somehow. Jason once more couldn’t believe it. “…Jason, may I kiss you?” The American found himself speechless for different reasons now. His brain ceased to function. He couldn’t make himself say yes. He couldn’t make himself nod either. And he realised it was awkward. That Salim had just held his heart out in his hands and Jason didn’t seem to have the decency to respond. He wondered how his face was reacting. Did he look shocked? In a good way? Was any part of his body showing how positively he was taking the question.

 Eventually he somehow managed a ‘Mmm.’ Although the delay couldn’t have been as long as it felt, because Salim at no point seemed dismayed by a lack of response. Jason wasn’t even sure if that counted as a response, but Salim knew him enough to know what he was trying to say. Salim took a short step forward, and closed the gap between them. His kiss was polite, tentative even, and his lips barely brushed against Jason’s. But it was enough for Jason to feel elated. It was enough for Jason to crave more. Immediately.

Salim was trying not to outstay his welcome, but Jason pulled him back, his kiss a little more firm, confident. He hoped that he was telling Salim that it was okay for him to be kissed like this. Jason wasn’t going to be shy about it now. So, it wasn’t just one kiss, it was two… three… four… before they finally pulled away from each other.

That faint blush was still painted across Salim’s cheeks as they looked at each other now – Jason knew that was reflected on his own face. Salim stayed close, and he kept Jason in his arms. His eyes tender. Jason didn’t think he’d ever been looked at like that in his life.

You look like you love me… Please, God, I hope you love me…

Jason realised that this was what he wanted. Damn right now, he wanted this for the rest of his life. Salim felt like home. Salim was home. Jason knew that now. Salim was where he wanted to be.

Salim smiled, and this time when he spoke it was breathed Arabic. Jason didn’t understand the words, but he recognised ‘Habibi’. Salim had been using that one a lot around him this past month. Jason’s eyes were shining, and Salim didn’t want him to cry, happy tears or not. Salim leant back in, and kissed Jason again.