Having learned stealth and the art of being sneaky, Cougar knows when something is afoot. The twins are avoiding a topic, but he doesn't know what it is. He's been trying to pry it out of them with soft kisses on their foreheads at night and extra fruit at breakfast, but neither Javi or Jessica will tell him.
They're beginning to unnerve him, which is impressive for a man like Cougar, who once spent three days in a sniper's nest waiting for a target. And yet, the unflinching stares from his children are beginning to erode his nerves. He barely glances up from his book when he feels the two of them staring at him and Jake, his feet propped up on the table.
"Que?" he finally asks, lowering the book.
Jessica stares at him without breaking while Javi stares down at his feet. Cougar softens and pats his lap, grinning when both the children rush forward and take half of his lap apiece. He shoots a triumphant smirk at Jensen at being the one chosen.
"We wanted to know," Jessica starts.
"...everyone at school was talking about families," Javi interrupts. "We wanted to know why..."
"Why!" Jessica interrupts, jumping on the word as loudly as she can. "Why aren't you and Dad married, papi?"
Contrary to popular belief, Jake can actually cook dinner. He's not nearly as good at it as Cougar is, for obvious reasons, but hey, a multi-cultural family has to get used to multicultural food. When papí cooks dinner, it's all spices and delicious meats and lime and cilantro, and when daddy cooks dinner, it's a good old-fashioned tuna casserole. Much to his continued amusement, Jake discovered he's a master at good old fashioned church-lady Midwestern cooking. He can only be grateful that their kids eat whatever's put in front of them with the gusto of a ravenous pack of wolves, having clearly inherited their daddy's metabolism.
They won't care if the cheese is a little burned to the bottom of the pan if they smother it in enough ketchup.
He's only paying attention to them with half an ear, humming to himself a little as he slaves over the stove, which is why he nearly jumps when Jessica yells over her brother.
When he tunes in to the question she asks, he nearly jumps for another reason entirely.
"C'mon, guys," he tries intervening, abandoning the pot of bubbling noodle water for a minute to come over and swoop Jessica up in his arms, snatching her from Cougar's lap and flipping her over to distract her with tickles as she shrieks with laughter and hangs from his arms upside-down like a monkey. "Leave your papí to his reading."
"No, it's okay," Cougar says, giving Jake a calming look as he reaches back for her, patting his lap (and giving Jensen a look that clearly says that if he wants to sit too, he can make sure there's room for everyone). "Did they teach you about how families don't have to be the same?" The twins nod, slowly, and Cougar smiles encouragingly before he goes on. Having the twins has worked miracles for getting Cougar to talk more, because he knows that he needs to, in order for them to learn and grow and speak Spanish.
"I love your Dad very, very much," he says, rubbing Javi's back. "And some people, they don't need a ring or paper to know they want to spend their lives with someone."
Jessica squirms more than usual, and so Jake lets her slide through his arms to the ground, planting her palms as Jake holds on to her ankles, supporting her hand stand until she's steady enough for him to let go and her to get back on her feet so she can scramble back into Cougar's lap.
It warms his heart to see how much Cougar adores their babies, and listening to them speak to each other always has, and always will, make something in his chest feel worryingly swoopy.
Listening as Cougar starts speaking, he has to turn his back on his family and keep himself busy with the food so he won't make a face to clue anyone in on the fact that he's not as fine with the status quo as Cougar is.
"But Adam said Daddy's not our real dad because you're not married," Javi pipes up, clearly hesitant to bring it up.
"Of course I'm your real dad," Jake protests. "Adam's a dummy."
"You shouldn't listen to the other children," Cougar says darkly, already thinking of how he would string them up by the ankles and leave them upside-down if they were grown adults saying things like that about Jake. His gaze slides to Jake and watches the way Jake's back muscles react, knowing that this isn't a conversation he wants to hear. "Your Dad is blood. Blood is real," he says, trying to keep his face from getting too intense.
"Do you think that Clay is not your real uncle because I am not married? Or Pooch?" Cougar points out. "For some people, marriage is very important. For others," he says, shrugging. "For me, I love your Dad, very, very much. Here," he says, hand over his heart. "It is the only place that must know."
Jessica reaches out to cover his palm with her own.
"Can I feel?" Javi asks and Cougar nods, coaxing him to put his hand overtop and feel too.
This really isn't a conversation that Jake want to be a part of, let alone witness, but leaving the room will be even more suspicious than letting his shoulders bunch up, so he stays put, stirring the noodles some more. Then he decides they're done enough, and clangs about for a bit, grabbing the colander and jamming it into the sink to drown out Cougar saying he doesn't want to marry him.
"Dinner's gonna be ready in fifteen, gatitos," he says, loud enough to interrupt as he pours the pasta into the colander and jostles it to shake off more of the water. "Time to go wash hands and faces, please."
He keeps his back turned to the rest of his family as he dumps the noodles into the casserole dish and then shifts to pour the cheesy tuna sauce over them all. The oven is already hot and ready, so he can just bung the whole thing in and hopefully by the time he's done, the kids will be gone upstairs and Cougar will have gone back to his book.
The note is sitting on Cougar's desk, but Cougar is on his knees as he tears through the others in the classroom. Sixth period has been dismissed and everyone is on their way home, but he's not going anywhere until he searches the classroom high and low to see if there are any other notes like the one he'd found.
The one with a sketch (frightfully good) of Jensen with his clothes off, and multiple types of handwriting noting comments about how they would hit that. Cougar is offended on behalf of his husband, but there is something else.
He's jealous that there isn't one for himself. So maybe that's the reason behind his wild search, but he'll insist that he's trying to make sure there are no more. "Found you," he mutters in Spanish as he draws another one out. this one is of familiar shoulders and a list of sexual positions that would make the best use of them.
Scowling, Cougar thinks that he's going to have to start handing out detentions.
Jake is kind of new to teaching, having started working at the high school that Cougar works at only five years ago. Honestly, he got into the whole schtick just to be close to his husband, but he found he actually really enjoyed it once he started. Sure, teaching computer science to children who've grown up with laptops in their hands is the kind of redundancy that's too painful to be funny, but it lets him keep up with what's new in the computing world and he'd be lying if he said he didn't feel good, watching some dipshit teenager who acted like the sun shone out his ass at the beginning of the year really work at a project and accomplish something he never imagined he would.
People weren't lying when they said teaching was hard, but rewarding.
Part of the reward is getting to duck in and see his husband almost whenever he wants, he won't lie.
Señor Alvarez's classes have all grown used to Jake popping in randomly throughout the day, and it's a rare thing that he doesn't come collect Cougar once the final bell rings so they can go home together. Opening Cougar's door, Jake is surprised not to see him sitting at his desk, and actually winds up calling out to him before he spots him there, crawling on the floor between the desks.
Cougar stares up from another empty desk, settling back on the haunches of his leather boots as he gives Jake a narrow eyed look, wondering if he knows about the drawings. Should he be asking one of the women teachers to go into the washrooms, too? See if there's a phone number on the stalls? No, Jessica would have told them if there was and they would have noticed the calls. Their privacy is still secure.
"Did you see any paper?" Cougar asks, holding up the folded lined sheet. "Like this. I'm looking for more."
"Uh, no?" He steps into the room and shuts the door behind him, cutting down on the dwindling noise of students going home, and automatically walks over to where Cougar is so he can bend down and kiss him.
"Why are you stealing notes from people's desks?" he asks, reaching for the paper himself and unfolding it.
When he takes a look at it, he falters, his eyebrows shooting up above his glasses. "...Wait, is that me?"
That's dirty play. Cougar has to lean up into the kiss and he gives a helpless little sound when he chases after Jake to try and get more, only to be denied. He steals it back and shoves it in the back pocket of his jeans, tugging the brim of his hat a little lower to avoid the dark glower on his face from spilling over. "Not the worst one," he mutters, gesturing to the desk where the more lewd one lies.
He's a little baffled. Sure, he knows he's relatively good looking, as he managed to snare the hottest man he's ever laid eyes on, but he still maintains part of that is pure and simple Stockholm Syndrome. Cougar had spent so many years living in Jake's pocket that he didn't realize he had better options out there.
And Jake isn't going to remind him.
He goes and takes a look at the note on Cougar's desk, whistling when he reads it. "I don't even think that's anatomically possible."
They've been in the city centre for twenty minutes and already he knows that they can't just keep standing there. Being the most fluent in the local language, Cougar can already hear them talking about the strangers. If they don't want to call attention to themselves, they have to split up. With the only possessions he has left in his pack, Cougar tells them to split up. Still, his fingers find Jensen's because splitting up still means they stay together.
He's already thinking up a plan that they can do. It won't be hard, but it will mean that he's going to be in dangerous territory -- skirting closer to a truth he doesn't like to admit to himself.
"Come with me," he says quietly to Jensen. They need to find a hotel and a place they can talk securely. He knows the others will contact them when they find a similar situation, but if they want to fly under the radar, they need a story now.
Jake has always prided herself on her ability to deal with her shit. She's never had to rely on others to do what needs to be done, not when she was a scared teenager living in foster care, not when she was a slightly-older scared teenager in Basic, not when she joined Special Forces and got herself assigned to the Losers.
Watching the chopper with twenty-five little kids disintegrate into twisted pieces of burned metal and charred bone has completely fucked up her ability to deal.
Luckily, she has Cougar around to be strong for her when she can't; when his hand slides into hers, she clings tightly to his palm, his rings cutting into her fingers in a way that grounds her to the moment in a way that little else does. For a change, she's silent as they decide what to do, staring down at the ground and holding onto Cougar's hand like she'll float away if she lets go.
When he tugs on her hand gently and asks her — tells her, but for Cougar, that's asking — to come with him, she nods and follows him down the alley, not looking over her shoulder to see the others.
He doesn't like when she's the quiet one. He can barely process what's happened and doesn't feel like saying anything, so to have her also go quiet is unnerving him. He keeps a hold of her hand and leads them down winding back alleys until he finds a main street and something that looks like a decent hotel. He's got enough spare cash on him to get them through at least a few weeks, so he gives her a gentle nudge towards the door and checks them in.
He knows they need to establish a story after they talk, but best to start now. He tries to go relaxed and easy as he leans an elbow on the front counter, chattering away in dialected Spanish as he talks about how beautiful his wife is, isn't she? And how she'd wanted to come see where his family lived for their honeymoon, but they think they'll be here two, maybe three months before the family house can be built. The front desk clerk slides keys his way and he takes them gratefully, shutting down the minute he looks away.
She's never been able to learn Spanish (okay, she's never tried very hard), but even Jake can understand what mi esposa means, and it's only long practice of hanging out with Cougar and taking the few words he says in stride that keeps her from shooting him an incredulous look.
Usually she can follow what Cougar is saying. He doesn't say much, and what he does say he says slowly, but listening him talk to the check-in clerk is like listening to a wall of sound wash over her, forcing herself to give the clerk a small smile and rub at her temple like she has a headache before stifling a theatrical yawn. Hopefully she'll just look the part of a jetlagged gringa and nobody will ask too many questions.
"Cougs," she breathes quietly, reaching out to catch his hand for a moment, but whatever else she was going to say dies on her tongue and she winds up just nodding, squeezing his fingers lightly before dropping them and obediently heading down the hall to the room number that's stamped on the key fob.
He knows they will need to get out of the clothes. It had been easy to spin a story about getting off their last team building exercise to pass off the uniform, but they can't keep wearing them -- even stripped down to just the black tank top portion and the pants. He's grateful for the room, but he still gives her a nod as he checks for anything hidden.
Weapons, bugs, tech, pretty much anything that he might need to disable in order to make sure their stay here is safe. When he's done a clean sweep of both the bathroom and the bedroom, he sinks down onto the edge of the bed and lets his head collapse into his hands. He's exhausted and broken and when he closes his eyes, all he sees is fire.
"No one will suspect us, if we are on our honeymoon," he explains, digging through the bag to find the rings they had used before, the right ones. "I told him it could be months, we are here to see my family. The house is being built."
Too many words. Too much talking. He's tired of talking.
Cougar is still sick, but this time she knows why. Roque is irritating. Clay is annoying. Jensen snored last night, which means she didn't get any sleep, and Pooch has the thought that the glare on her face means that she wants him to offer platitudes and coffee. It's the coffee that pushes her over the top, because what had once been Cougar's favorite part of the mornings is both off limits and making her nauseous. It's why she smacks him as hard as she can in his arm before storming off with her rifle, not sure where she intends to go.
They're not on a mission, which means she ends up climbing into one of the little crawl spaces in the hangar, a little place she's outfitted for herself. She starts to take apart the rifle to clean it, eyes on the ground below.
She sees Pooch head off in the direction of the barracks, which means she knows what's going to happen next.
Pooch, for his part, is still rubbing his shoulder (sure it's going to bruise) and shaking his head, sipping the coffee because it's just stupid letting good coffee go to waste. He knows it's probably safe to lean in Jensen's bedroom door with Cougar already up and about, so he knocks and shakes his head.
"You fucking her badly or something?" Pooch wonders. "No woman should ever be that mean in the morning."
Jake sleeps like the dead when he's back on base, which is probably why he'd been snoring enough to keep her awake half the night. When he becomes aware of the problem, he'll apologize, but for now, he's still happily snoring away, sleeping in in a way he normally can't indulge in.
That all ends when Pooch lets himself in to his room, waking him up by casting aspersions on Jake's abilities in bed.
"Whuh?" is his brilliant response as he flails in the covers until he's somewhat more upright and can find his glasses. "What? No. It's Cougs, c'mon, she's always grumpy in the morning. Did you drink the last of the coffee?"
"Fuck no, I offered her coffee and she punched me so hard, feels like I just got my booster shots," Pooch complains, not caring about Jensen's state of undress. The whole team's seen worse when it comes to the man, given his hacking 'uniform', so to speak. "So I figure, she's this mad? Gotta be you," he points out. "So if you're not falling down on your Cougar-pleasuring duties, what is it? Ate the last of the chocolates? Put a fingerprint on her scope?"
He's rubbing his eyes beneath his glasses, indulging in a jaw-cracking yawn as he sits upright properly.
"Dude. I don't touch Cougar's gun, and she doesn't touch my computer. It's our thing."
His modesty covered only by the sheet pooled low at his hips, he scratches at his chest. "Gimme," he says, reaching for the coffee. If that's not the last of it, there's more in the kitchen, which means Pooch can go get more. "Look, man, I don't know why she's so mad. She was fine last night after her doctor's appointment."
Pooch raises his eyebrow, all that teasing falling away. "I know Cougar likes to play 'shut up and make us guess', but you'd tell us if she's sick, right?" She hadn't looked sick, just pissed off, though with Cougar, it's a little hard to tell what degree of pissed off she is, unless you're Jake.
"C'mon, J, wear some fucking shorts to bed. Not everyone wants to see that."
Back when they had approached him, Cougar had accepted the mission with no qualms. It was only a few weeks and they needed a sniper. So Cougar had gone, telling himself that when he got back, he would ask Jake to dinner and they could have the talk that he's been putting off for years. Only, that talk never came.
The mission went bad.
No, bad is the wrong word. The mission went monumentally fucking awful and Cougar wound up with a scar that intersected his scalp, a shaved head, and missing memories. That, and Cougar just went missing in general, stolen by an enemy and made to work wherever they could put him. He lost his hat and he's fairly sure that letters have been sent home to all his family, saying he's MIA. Eventually, though, he gets his break. Years later (almost ten years), Cougar finally makes it out. He's a little older, a little broken, and with his short, curling hair and no hat to protect it, he doesn't look much like a soldier anymore.
It doesn't take him a single second to know where he wants to go. He books a flight to San Francisco the second Julie tells him where his brother is, hope in his heart. It's been ten years and that conversation is long overdue, but they're both still young. It can still happen, yes?
Only, then Cougar lands and starts to linger around the places he thinks Jake will be. He finds him. And then he finds the boyfriend. Cougar watches in the shadows as Jake and Jamie (yes, that's his name, the man with the dark hair and dark eyes) steal kisses and hold hands. The physical pain is in his heart because now he knows that he and Jake could have had something. Cougar had just been too chicken. He fights past the ache in his heart and knows that he has to visit Jake before he moves on, at least as a friend.
He buys a bottle of wine and heads to Jake's place, telling himself that he's faced down gunfire, hostage situations, and a thousand times worse situations. And yet, when Jamie opens the door and Cougar is forced to look at this beautiful young man that Jake is with, he's not so sure.
"Hi," he says. "I'm Carlos. One of Jake's old army buddies," he introduces himself, lifting up the bottle of wine and trying to plaster a smile on his face despite everything in him fighting to crack and splinter, screaming at him to get out of there.
Lucky for him, Jake has decent taste in men. He scores an invitation inside, finding himself sitting on the couch with his back to the door, idly fidgeting with his hands as he prods Jamie to tell him about what he does while they wait for Jake to come back (as he's apparently run to the store, leaving them in this awkward situation).
Jake has always thought Jaime was too trusting, and this afternoon is a prime example of that. Aside from a quick peek through the peephole, he opens the door right after he hears the knock, finding a wiry man with a riot of curls shading his eyes standing on their doorstep.
"Hello," he says, slightly warily. As soon as the stranger introduces himself as one of Jake's Army buddies, his demeanor brightens. "Oh! Come on in," he replies, stepping back to let Carlos in to the apartment.
"Jake's just run down to get some garlic for me while I cook dinner, but he should be back soon," he says as he leads the way inside. "Feel free to have a seat, do you want a beer or something?" Hardly waiting for Carlos to reply, he bustles off to the kitchen to grab a cold beer from the fridge, checking on dinner as he goes to make sure he hasn't burnt anything.
He sits across from Jake's friend, the coffee table between them, and keeps half an eye on the timer to make sure he doesn't let anything get ruined in the kitchen.
"I'm a dermatologist," he replies to Carlos' question. "I do tattoo removal, which is how I met Jake. Are you still serving?"
He's a doctor and he cooks, in addition to those good looks. Cougar is glad that if he's too late, then at least someone is going to take care of Jake when he leaves again. He has to wonder which of the tattoos had been removed, and it's on the tip of his tongue to ask though he knows it's not his business anymore. "No, no beer," he says, because he still takes medication every now and then for his head and after the stress of today, he thinks he will need it.
Absently, he runs his fingers through his short hair, thumb tracing the long scar, his head ducked down as he sits there awkwardly. "And not serving anymore. I had an injury," he explains. "Sometimes, I have gaps in my memory." He shrugs, because it seems like bad luck, but it's Cougar's life that got fucked in the process.
"How long have you and Jake been together?" he asks instead, as if salt in the wound really does seem like the best plan of attack right now. He needs to see Jake, offer him the bottle of wine and an email address, and then get out. He's not sure what he'll do if he lingers.
[AU]
They're beginning to unnerve him, which is impressive for a man like Cougar, who once spent three days in a sniper's nest waiting for a target. And yet, the unflinching stares from his children are beginning to erode his nerves. He barely glances up from his book when he feels the two of them staring at him and Jake, his feet propped up on the table.
"Que?" he finally asks, lowering the book.
Jessica stares at him without breaking while Javi stares down at his feet. Cougar softens and pats his lap, grinning when both the children rush forward and take half of his lap apiece. He shoots a triumphant smirk at Jensen at being the one chosen.
"We wanted to know," Jessica starts.
"...everyone at school was talking about families," Javi interrupts. "We wanted to know why..."
"Why!" Jessica interrupts, jumping on the word as loudly as she can. "Why aren't you and Dad married, papi?"
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They won't care if the cheese is a little burned to the bottom of the pan if they smother it in enough ketchup.
He's only paying attention to them with half an ear, humming to himself a little as he slaves over the stove, which is why he nearly jumps when Jessica yells over her brother.
When he tunes in to the question she asks, he nearly jumps for another reason entirely.
"C'mon, guys," he tries intervening, abandoning the pot of bubbling noodle water for a minute to come over and swoop Jessica up in his arms, snatching her from Cougar's lap and flipping her over to distract her with tickles as she shrieks with laughter and hangs from his arms upside-down like a monkey. "Leave your papí to his reading."
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"I love your Dad very, very much," he says, rubbing Javi's back. "And some people, they don't need a ring or paper to know they want to spend their lives with someone."
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It warms his heart to see how much Cougar adores their babies, and listening to them speak to each other always has, and always will, make something in his chest feel worryingly swoopy.
Listening as Cougar starts speaking, he has to turn his back on his family and keep himself busy with the food so he won't make a face to clue anyone in on the fact that he's not as fine with the status quo as Cougar is.
"But Adam said Daddy's not our real dad because you're not married," Javi pipes up, clearly hesitant to bring it up.
"Of course I'm your real dad," Jake protests. "Adam's a dummy."
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"Do you think that Clay is not your real uncle because I am not married? Or Pooch?" Cougar points out. "For some people, marriage is very important. For others," he says, shrugging. "For me, I love your Dad, very, very much. Here," he says, hand over his heart. "It is the only place that must know."
Jessica reaches out to cover his palm with her own.
"Can I feel?" Javi asks and Cougar nods, coaxing him to put his hand overtop and feel too.
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"Dinner's gonna be ready in fifteen, gatitos," he says, loud enough to interrupt as he pours the pasta into the colander and jostles it to shake off more of the water. "Time to go wash hands and faces, please."
He keeps his back turned to the rest of his family as he dumps the noodles into the casserole dish and then shifts to pour the cheesy tuna sauce over them all. The oven is already hot and ready, so he can just bung the whole thing in and hopefully by the time he's done, the kids will be gone upstairs and Cougar will have gone back to his book.
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teacher's pet
The one with a sketch (frightfully good) of Jensen with his clothes off, and multiple types of handwriting noting comments about how they would hit that. Cougar is offended on behalf of his husband, but there is something else.
He's jealous that there isn't one for himself. So maybe that's the reason behind his wild search, but he'll insist that he's trying to make sure there are no more. "Found you," he mutters in Spanish as he draws another one out. this one is of familiar shoulders and a list of sexual positions that would make the best use of them.
Scowling, Cougar thinks that he's going to have to start handing out detentions.
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People weren't lying when they said teaching was hard, but rewarding.
Part of the reward is getting to duck in and see his husband almost whenever he wants, he won't lie.
Señor Alvarez's classes have all grown used to Jake popping in randomly throughout the day, and it's a rare thing that he doesn't come collect Cougar once the final bell rings so they can go home together. Opening Cougar's door, Jake is surprised not to see him sitting at his desk, and actually winds up calling out to him before he spots him there, crawling on the floor between the desks.
"...Babe? What are you doing?"
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"Did you see any paper?" Cougar asks, holding up the folded lined sheet. "Like this. I'm looking for more."
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"Why are you stealing notes from people's desks?" he asks, reaching for the paper himself and unfolding it.
When he takes a look at it, he falters, his eyebrows shooting up above his glasses. "...Wait, is that me?"
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He's a little baffled. Sure, he knows he's relatively good looking, as he managed to snare the hottest man he's ever laid eyes on, but he still maintains part of that is pure and simple Stockholm Syndrome. Cougar had spent so many years living in Jake's pocket that he didn't realize he had better options out there.
And Jake isn't going to remind him.
He goes and takes a look at the note on Cougar's desk, whistling when he reads it. "I don't even think that's anatomically possible."
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Bolivia - rule 63 - forming a plan
He's already thinking up a plan that they can do. It won't be hard, but it will mean that he's going to be in dangerous territory -- skirting closer to a truth he doesn't like to admit to himself.
"Come with me," he says quietly to Jensen. They need to find a hotel and a place they can talk securely. He knows the others will contact them when they find a similar situation, but if they want to fly under the radar, they need a story now.
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Watching the chopper with twenty-five little kids disintegrate into twisted pieces of burned metal and charred bone has completely fucked up her ability to deal.
Luckily, she has Cougar around to be strong for her when she can't; when his hand slides into hers, she clings tightly to his palm, his rings cutting into her fingers in a way that grounds her to the moment in a way that little else does. For a change, she's silent as they decide what to do, staring down at the ground and holding onto Cougar's hand like she'll float away if she lets go.
When he tugs on her hand gently and asks her — tells her, but for Cougar, that's asking — to come with him, she nods and follows him down the alley, not looking over her shoulder to see the others.
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He knows they need to establish a story after they talk, but best to start now. He tries to go relaxed and easy as he leans an elbow on the front counter, chattering away in dialected Spanish as he talks about how beautiful his wife is, isn't she? And how she'd wanted to come see where his family lived for their honeymoon, but they think they'll be here two, maybe three months before the family house can be built. The front desk clerk slides keys his way and he takes them gratefully, shutting down the minute he looks away.
Handing one to her, he nods to the hall. "Go."
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Usually she can follow what Cougar is saying. He doesn't say much, and what he does say he says slowly, but listening him talk to the check-in clerk is like listening to a wall of sound wash over her, forcing herself to give the clerk a small smile and rub at her temple like she has a headache before stifling a theatrical yawn. Hopefully she'll just look the part of a jetlagged gringa and nobody will ask too many questions.
"Cougs," she breathes quietly, reaching out to catch his hand for a moment, but whatever else she was going to say dies on her tongue and she winds up just nodding, squeezing his fingers lightly before dropping them and obediently heading down the hall to the room number that's stamped on the key fob.
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Weapons, bugs, tech, pretty much anything that he might need to disable in order to make sure their stay here is safe. When he's done a clean sweep of both the bathroom and the bedroom, he sinks down onto the edge of the bed and lets his head collapse into his hands. He's exhausted and broken and when he closes his eyes, all he sees is fire.
"No one will suspect us, if we are on our honeymoon," he explains, digging through the bag to find the rings they had used before, the right ones. "I told him it could be months, we are here to see my family. The house is being built."
Too many words. Too much talking. He's tired of talking.
"It's good cover."
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Cougar is still sick, but this time she knows why. Roque is irritating. Clay is annoying. Jensen snored last night, which means she didn't get any sleep, and Pooch has the thought that the glare on her face means that she wants him to offer platitudes and coffee. It's the coffee that pushes her over the top, because what had once been Cougar's favorite part of the mornings is both off limits and making her nauseous. It's why she smacks him as hard as she can in his arm before storming off with her rifle, not sure where she intends to go.
They're not on a mission, which means she ends up climbing into one of the little crawl spaces in the hangar, a little place she's outfitted for herself. She starts to take apart the rifle to clean it, eyes on the ground below.
She sees Pooch head off in the direction of the barracks, which means she knows what's going to happen next.
Pooch, for his part, is still rubbing his shoulder (sure it's going to bruise) and shaking his head, sipping the coffee because it's just stupid letting good coffee go to waste. He knows it's probably safe to lean in Jensen's bedroom door with Cougar already up and about, so he knocks and shakes his head.
"You fucking her badly or something?" Pooch wonders. "No woman should ever be that mean in the morning."
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That all ends when Pooch lets himself in to his room, waking him up by casting aspersions on Jake's abilities in bed.
"Whuh?" is his brilliant response as he flails in the covers until he's somewhat more upright and can find his glasses. "What? No. It's Cougs, c'mon, she's always grumpy in the morning. Did you drink the last of the coffee?"
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"Dude. I don't touch Cougar's gun, and she doesn't touch my computer. It's our thing."
His modesty covered only by the sheet pooled low at his hips, he scratches at his chest. "Gimme," he says, reaching for the coffee. If that's not the last of it, there's more in the kitchen, which means Pooch can go get more. "Look, man, I don't know why she's so mad. She was fine last night after her doctor's appointment."
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"C'mon, J, wear some fucking shorts to bed. Not everyone wants to see that."
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10 years on
The mission went bad.
No, bad is the wrong word. The mission went monumentally fucking awful and Cougar wound up with a scar that intersected his scalp, a shaved head, and missing memories. That, and Cougar just went missing in general, stolen by an enemy and made to work wherever they could put him. He lost his hat and he's fairly sure that letters have been sent home to all his family, saying he's MIA. Eventually, though, he gets his break. Years later (almost ten years), Cougar finally makes it out. He's a little older, a little broken, and with his short, curling hair and no hat to protect it, he doesn't look much like a soldier anymore.
It doesn't take him a single second to know where he wants to go. He books a flight to San Francisco the second Julie tells him where his brother is, hope in his heart. It's been ten years and that conversation is long overdue, but they're both still young. It can still happen, yes?
Only, then Cougar lands and starts to linger around the places he thinks Jake will be. He finds him. And then he finds the boyfriend. Cougar watches in the shadows as Jake and Jamie (yes, that's his name, the man with the dark hair and dark eyes) steal kisses and hold hands. The physical pain is in his heart because now he knows that he and Jake could have had something. Cougar had just been too chicken. He fights past the ache in his heart and knows that he has to visit Jake before he moves on, at least as a friend.
He buys a bottle of wine and heads to Jake's place, telling himself that he's faced down gunfire, hostage situations, and a thousand times worse situations. And yet, when Jamie opens the door and Cougar is forced to look at this beautiful young man that Jake is with, he's not so sure.
"Hi," he says. "I'm Carlos. One of Jake's old army buddies," he introduces himself, lifting up the bottle of wine and trying to plaster a smile on his face despite everything in him fighting to crack and splinter, screaming at him to get out of there.
Lucky for him, Jake has decent taste in men. He scores an invitation inside, finding himself sitting on the couch with his back to the door, idly fidgeting with his hands as he prods Jamie to tell him about what he does while they wait for Jake to come back (as he's apparently run to the store, leaving them in this awkward situation).
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"Hello," he says, slightly warily. As soon as the stranger introduces himself as one of Jake's Army buddies, his demeanor brightens. "Oh! Come on in," he replies, stepping back to let Carlos in to the apartment.
"Jake's just run down to get some garlic for me while I cook dinner, but he should be back soon," he says as he leads the way inside. "Feel free to have a seat, do you want a beer or something?" Hardly waiting for Carlos to reply, he bustles off to the kitchen to grab a cold beer from the fridge, checking on dinner as he goes to make sure he hasn't burnt anything.
He sits across from Jake's friend, the coffee table between them, and keeps half an eye on the timer to make sure he doesn't let anything get ruined in the kitchen.
"I'm a dermatologist," he replies to Carlos' question. "I do tattoo removal, which is how I met Jake. Are you still serving?"
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Absently, he runs his fingers through his short hair, thumb tracing the long scar, his head ducked down as he sits there awkwardly. "And not serving anymore. I had an injury," he explains. "Sometimes, I have gaps in my memory." He shrugs, because it seems like bad luck, but it's Cougar's life that got fucked in the process.
"How long have you and Jake been together?" he asks instead, as if salt in the wound really does seem like the best plan of attack right now. He needs to see Jake, offer him the bottle of wine and an email address, and then get out. He's not sure what he'll do if he lingers.
He knows it won't be very dignified.