Kline sat at his kitchen table. His big, strong hands lay stretched out in front of him, resting on the pine table-top. His eyes vacantly stared at them, and a half-forgotten, full bottle of beer slowly warmed at his elbow. He moved his jaw and felt it protest with pain. It was distracting, and gave him something else to think about.
He got up and pulled a bag of peas from the freezer. He smashed it against the table, and made the bag pliable instead of a solid, icy block of vegetables. He sat back down and put the bag against his jaw. Kline sighed as coolness spread throughout the bone and muscle of his face. His blue eyes were half-closed and he fought down his desire to rage against Hanson. He knew the man was dealing with a lot.
"But damn it, so am I." Kline let himself murmur the words. He closed his eyes and swallowed. He'd been hit before and he could take a punch. But the pain that flitted about in his gut wasn't from any physical blow. He inhaled, trying to get a deep breath despite feeling like there were bands of iron around his chest.
A knock at his door surprised him and he turned a bit to look at it.
"Kline." He heard Hanson's voice from the other side. "Kline, please let me in."
The Lt. put the peas down on the table and started to get up, then he frowned. "Fuck that." He whispered. He snatched the bag and irritably put it back against his face. He stayed where he was and glared at the door.
Hanson knocked again. "Come on Kline. Don't make me apologize from this side of the damned door."
He stubbornly remained in his chair. His hand gripped the plastic bag and pressed it painfully against his jaw. He heard the Captain swear. "Look, I'm sorry. For whatever it's worth." He listened to the crunching sound of steps on gravel receding from the door as Hanson walked away.
Kline jumped to his feet. He quickly strode over and opened the door just as Hanson was taking out the keys to his truck. The Captain turned when he heard the door open. His eyes looked haunted and worried, and he stood indecisively with one hand on his truck's door handle.
"Captain." Kline said with clinical professionalism. He was angry with the man, and it showed in his voice. But he was willing to deal with it. He stood aside and swung the door open in a silent invitation.
Hanson paused for a moment, then put his keys back in his pocket and walked past Kline into the apartment. The Lt. shut the door and turned to face him. The man sat on Kline's couch. He put his head in his hands and sat there, silently holding his own face. Kline looked down at him and lost some of his anger. Instead, he began to feel worried for Hanson. After a stretch of silence Kline cleared his throat.
"Sir? Can I get you something?"
Hanson raised his head. His face was wreathed in misery. "I'm sorry Kline. I really am. There was no reason to ..." He frowned at the memory of his actions and let his sentence trail off.
Kline sat next to him. "Captain, I'm fine." He resisted the urge to put his arm around his shoulders. He grinned. "Though you do pack quite a punch." Hanson grimaced. Kline cursed silently at himself. He'd tried to lighten the situation, not antagonize him. "Look, I'm over it. Don't beat yourself up. You're under a lot of stress."
The Captain refused to let himself off the hook that easy and looked down at his hands resting on his knees. One of his knuckles was busted open, and he'd not bothered to wrap it up. Blood was crusted between his fingers from the wound, and he flexed his hands. The movement made some of it come loose, and fresh blood oozed out.
Kline looked down at the injury. "Let me get something for that." He went to the bathroom and took down some supplies. He walked back to the couch and knelt in front of Hanson. The Captain watched silently as Kline worked on his hand. He let his eyes wander from his knuckle up to the Lt's face as he concentrated on taking care of the wound, and tried to keep the pain of treating it down. Kline squirted some antibiotic ointment on the cleaned injury and wrapped it in some gauze and medical tape.
"There." He pulled gently on the tape to make sure it would hold. "It's not as good as what a Doc would do, but ..." Kline looked up to see Hanson staring at his face. "What ... are you all right?"
Hanson smiled ruefully and shook his head. "I don't think I am." He kept staring at Kline. "I think I liked what we did." He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth, trying to calm his hammering heart. "I find myself thinking about you when you're not around, and I'm happier when you are." He frowned. "I think Crawford's broken me."
Kline stayed where he was and risked putting a hand on Hanson's shoulder. "You're not broken. Maybe we're both just ... waking up."
Hanson looked away. "I don't know about that, but I think you were right about me. I think maybe I don't deserve to be in the corps." His jaw set and his frown deepened as he tried to control his emotions and simply speak his mind. "Maybe ... maybe I should just let Crawford ruin me."
Kline felt the desperation radiating from Hanson. There are moments in people's lives where a simple push, in either direction, will forever alter them. He suddenly and fearfully realized that this was one of those moments; and he was the one to decide which way to push Hanson. "Sir. Whatever else you are, you're a marine." He gripped Hanson by both shoulders and made him turn to face him. "I said what I said because I was pissed." He shook his head. "I'd feel like such an ass if I caused the US Marine Corps to lose you. Don't do that to me." He swallowed in effort to keep his voice steady. "Don't do that to yourself."
Hanson looked at him and Kline's honest, sincere eyes stared back. "What if ... what if I like what happens this coming weekend?" He kept the frown on his face. "How can I claim to be a marine when I'm enjoying sex with you?"
Kline thought about it. "I don't think it matters who you screw, Captain. You can shoot just as well as you did before we messed around. You can still hump just as well as you ever could. You can still run most men six or seven years younger than you in the ground." He shrugged. "I don't see the connection."
Hanson looked at Kline for a moment longer, drew a cleansing breath, then glanced down at his hand. "Thanks."
Kline followed his gaze to the bandaged knuckle. "No problem sir. Just some gauze and tape."
"No." Hanson looked back up. "Not for the bandage." Kline saw a deep gratitude in the man's sea green eyes. "Thank you." The Lt. knew what Hanson was really thanking him for. The realization that that the Captain was going to be all right washed over Kline and flooded his soul with relief. He looked back and felt himself grow fonder than ever for Hanson.
"You're welcome Captain." He openly stared at Hanson, and he was surprised when neither of them looked away. Hanson cocked his head and let his eyes roam over the features of Kline's handsome face. He frowned at the sight of the bruised cut on his jaw. He glanced at the Lt's eyes then reached out and very gently touched the area around the injury. Kline closed his eyes.
"It hurt?" Hanson whispered.
Kline shook his head. "No." He lied.
Hanson ran his fingers lightly over Kline's face. He touched his closed eyes, and smoothed Kline's eyebrows with his thumbs. Then he trailed down and let his touch linger against his lips. Grudgingly, he pulled his hands away.
"I ... I need some time to think about this." He said.
Kline opened his eyes. He gave Hanson an understanding look and nodded. "All right."
Hanson stood and adjusted his dick. He didn't apologize for his boner this time though. Kline grinned at the sight of it and rose from his seat. He walked the Captain to the door.
"You sure you're going to be all right?"
"Yeah." Hanson nodded.
Kline stuck out his hand. "See you soon Captain." Hanson looked down at it. He seemed to decide something then stepped forward and hugged Kline to his chest. The Lt. got over the initial surprise and wrapped his arms around his Captain. He closed his eyes and enjoyed everything about the moment.
Too soon, for both of them, they parted and Hanson cleared his throat. "All right. See you."
Kline opened the door and watched as Hanson got into his truck and left. He waved to the tail lights of the Ranger and found himself smiling. His jaw hurt like hell when he smiled, but he didn't care.