Blue, A Jarheads Story

Rock hefted his beer and took a nice long swig as he watched the tail end of some fucking game or other. He wasn't really sure, and frankly, he didn't much care.

Life in unmarried quarters sucked.

Especially the shared spaces like the TV room.

It was why he'd moved out into his own place as soon as he could. Of course, he'd given that up when Rigger had bought a house. It made just as much sense for him to be paying the same rent into Rig's mortgage. They got a bigger place out of the deal, more privacy, and all that crap.

Nobody'd mentioned how he'd have nothing but unmarried quarters to go back to when things blew up in his face.

The first week he'd still been too angry to care. The second he'd been too stubborn to do anything about it, like call Rigger up and talk.

Now it had been nearly three weeks, and he still hadn't called.

"Hey, man." Garrison plopped down beside him, stretched stubby, muscled legs out. "What the fuck are you still doing here?"

Garrison had been one of his cherries, quite a few years ago. One of his favorites, really. Muscled, eager. Not a cocksucker at all, but no drama, unlike Jeremy Alexander Fucking Temper Tantrum Roberts.

He shrugged. "Inertia." It sounded a lot better than the truth.

"Dude. That's a big fucking word." A bright smile was flashed over. "You want to get out of here for a while, man?"

"It is -- I must owe someone a quarter for that one." He smiled back and nodded. "I do. This is my second beer, though. You sober?"

"You know it. We'll go out and tear it up." The look in those dark eyes was a clear offer and it felt good, to be looked at.

He finished the rest of the beer -- no use in wasting good booze -- and hauled himself out of the chair, ready to get out of here for a few hours if not for good.

He wasn't going to waste anymore fucking time on a goddamn drama queen.

Damn it.