June 2010
Gabe swears vehemently as he stalks away from Petras' office. A small strike force for their next mission? It's fucking crazy. He's sure that they're going to run into more resistance than a four man team can handle. Especially one without their medic.
Petras' argument is crap, too. Jack can hold his own just as well as the rest of them. His aim is one of the best in the squad. And his hand to hand skills are almost on par with Gabe's own, after all the work he put into them with first Martínez and then the rest of them over the years. Sure he's a little more conspicuous and doesn't have quite as good of a grasp on straight up sneaking. But they've covered for him before, no problem. The benefits of having him on the team far outweigh any risk.
If this all goes to shit, and he's sure it's going to go to shit, Gabe's going to want Jack there. He knows how to patch them up, and how to get them all to cooperate with it. The rest of them know some field medicine, but not as much. Not enough. That's why Jack's on the damn team.
Damn it. Gabe wants the full squad in on this. He's sure that they're going to need the full squad. Instead, he gets less than half of it. All because the fucking bureaucrat thinks he knows better than the people actually carrying out the mission. When the hell was the last time Petras was out in the field? Does he know anything about it anymore?
And this mission is shady as hell outside of all that. They don't operate on US soil. That's someone else's territory. He's not sure whose, probably the FBI's, but it's definitely not them. Why is Petras insisting on this? Sure, Deadlock runs back and forth across the border, but they generally operate in the US. And this mission is in the fucking US.
They shouldn't be fucking doing this to begin with. And Petras is demanding they do it in the worst fucking way possible. Something isn't adding up, but Gabe's not quite sure where it's stemming from yet.
Jack walks along beside him quietly, listening to Gabe's litany of swearing but not interrupting. Gabe knows Jack's upset too. He's just better at holding it back and hiding behind the mask of professionalism than Gabe is.
But fucking Petras took it to mean that Jack agrees with him, even when Jack straight up told him otherwise. The man heard what he wanted to hear, and not a damn word otherwise. Not that that is new in any fucking way.
Gabe stalks into the tiny shack in their cluster of buildings that serves as their meeting and war room. He throws himself into the desk chair with a guttural, "Goddamn it," and sweeps the pile of papers with their coded mission planning off the desk. It's all fucking useless now anyway.
"You kiss your mama with that mouth?" Jack asks with a smirk, settling himself on the desk in front of Gabe.
"¡Dios mío!" Gabe leans forward and sneaks a quick kiss from Jack, knowing that they're in relative safety here. "Pretty sure I'm only kissing you."
"You fucking better be," Jack responds, leaning back in and drawing out the next kiss. Gabe knows that they should stop, but he just goes along with it instead. The first person likely to brave the shack after the entrance Gabe made is López anyway, and he'd figured them out months ago.
And if not? Oh, well. Discharge would mean he doesn't have to run this hell bound mission after all. If any of the squad would actually turn them in, that is. Bastards probably wouldn't do it.
Sure enough, a throat clears in the doorway. Gabe lets Jack pull away. Reluctantly. And not without protest. He mouths along Jack's jaw with a little moan as he retreats, trying to really sell it.
"Pretty sure you two shouldn't be doing that here and you damn well know it," López says, walking fully into the room. "Sirs," he tacks on with a shit-eating grin.
Gabe sighs. No luck getting discharged today then.
"If I get kicked out, I don't have to deal with Petras' idiocy anymore," Gabe mutters even as he pulls further away from Jack.
"The news that good?" López settles into a chair on the opposite side of the table with a frown.
"Four person strike team. No Jack," Gabe growls.
López whistles. "He tryin' to get us fucking killed."
"Says there shouldn't be much resistance. In and out quietly. And Sunshine here doesn't blend in as well as the rest of us." Gabe laughs as López rolls his eyes.
"Cause we've never worked the dumbass American tourist angle before. Sure."
"And we're gonna be in the fucking US anyway. The white boy won't stick out nearly as bad there."
Jack settles into another chair, tilting to snag the map Gabe swept off the table before with his fingertips.
"We all know it's shit, but how do we make this work?" Jack asks, laying it back out. "In a way that doesn't get you all killed. We all knows Petras is an asshole that's wrong. But I don't want you bringing me back dead bodies from the Deadlocks. Rather have a chance to get your asses patched up here if I can't do it there."
Gabe sighs and focuses. "We're going to have to take our time. Slow in and fast out, I think."
López nods. "Get the fuck in silently across the damn border. Set up in that godforsaken town and watch the bastard for a few days."
"We don't know when the target's going to be most vulnerable. And we can't take on his entire fucking gang with four people." Gabe leans forward, looking again at the map that he already has memorized. "We have to take Stephens," he adds, a little reluctantly.
"Why?" The surprise is evident in Jack's voice.
Gabe sighs. "I don't know what kind of security we're gonna have to get past." Gabe pauses again, thinking about what little they know about the town. "Medina, too. Maybe we can just snipe this fucker and be done with it."
Petras said quiet, but Gabe's taking no chances. He's taking a goddamn sniper with him. Screw what Petras wants.
"Let's get the rest of the damn team in here," Gabe says, looking up at Jack. "I want every angle possible covered. Maybe we can find a way to make this work."
Jack nods and gets up to go round everyone up.
"What I want to know," López says as Jack leaves, "is how fucking much of Deadlock's territory will Los Muertos take in the power suck? Are we taking out a small problem just to create a huge fucking one?"
Gabe scowls. He's been so angry about the fucking mission parameters that he hadn't yet considered the aftermath. And López is an asshole, but he's a smart one.
This may yet create a bigger fucking problem than anyone is expecting. Gabe closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, for all it helps. The worst part is he would bet Petras won't give a damn. As bad as this could get, they're locked in.
July 2010
Jack leans against the wall and watches the rest of the team. They normally don't gather like this before a mission. Teams tend to come and go without much fanfare. They all know what missions are going down when and where and who is on them. It's so routine that they don't need a large sendoff every time.
This mission is different in so many ways. The entire team got involved in the planning process. Everyone'd contributed ideas. They'd all argued them out trying to find the angle most likely to keep their team of four alive.
It was a team planning process and it's ended in the full squad gathering.
Jack glances around. Well, except for Gabe, but Jack's sure he'll be here soon. He's going on the damn mission, after all.
There are smaller groups gathered within the room, each working to keep the atmosphere light. No one wants to believe that this is the last they'll see of the strike force going in.
Jack sees Stephens, their newest member, break off from the group that was surrounding him. He's been here a few months, coming to them with an extensive background in infiltration. Or at least as extensive as you can get in your twenties. Jack's got a few questions about the kid's background, but even he knows better than to shake up the kid's confidence with them now.
Jack refuses to think about who used to have that job on the team. Martínez has been gone for over a year, but the wound still hurts and the images still haunt his dreams regularly.
Jack forces the thoughts away and walks over to Stephens. He remembers being the new guy. Hell, until Stephens got here he was still the fucking new guy. While no one is ignoring Stephens, he's definitely still on the outside. Jack may not be ready to trust the kid, but he's not going to leave him alone before a mission like this.
"Hey, kid," Jack says, crouching down next to Stephens where he's digging through his pack one last time. "All set?"
"I think so, sir," Stephens says. He keeps rifling through his belongings, movements just a little frantic to Jack's eye.
Jack reaches out a hand and still him. "Then trust that you have what you need. You shift everything around any more and it's not going to be where you think it is when you need it. Trust yourself."
Stephens pauses, sits back on his heels to meet Jack's eye. Then he nods and zips the pack back up.
"You know the plan. All of you do. You've got this," Jack adds, clapping a hand on his shoulder before standing up again.
"Hey, Morrison," Medina calls. "You seen the boss?"
Jack glances around. Sure enough, Gabe is still missing. He sighs, hoping it's not too theatrical. "I'll go find him." He's pretty sure he knows exactly where to find Gabe, and he's happy to go.
Jack taps once on Gabe's door before letting himself in. Gabe glances up as he tosses his new phone in a drawer and smiles, beckoning Jack closer. Jack can't understand how the damn thing works or why a phone should do more than make calls, but Gabe seems happy with it.
Gabe pulls Jack into a hug as soon as he's close enough. Jack sinks into the comfort. As confident as he tries to appear for the squad, Jack is just as worried as the rest of them. He's afraid that none of them will come back. That Gabe won't come back.
Jack pulls back just enough to kiss Gabe. It's deep and long. And not nearly enough. There's so much that Jack wants to say, so much that he wants to tell Gabe, wants to ask Gabe.
But he doesn't. Instead, Jack just kisses him like his life depends on it. The man that needs to come back before Jack can discuss the future with him. If Gabe wants there to be a real future here. He thinks so, but it's not something they've talked about.
Now Jack is regretting that. But this is not the time or the place to even be thinking about starting that conversation.
Gabe pulls back, leaving a hand on Jack's cheek, and Jack leans into it. They're silent for long moments. Too many things to say and no time to discuss them. Eventually, Gabe reels him back in. The kiss is shorter this time, the goodbye that they can't share in front of the rest of the squad.
"They're waiting on you," Jack forces himself to say as they break apart.
Gabe nods and releases him. Jack watches him go through his normal pre-mission check of guns, knives, ammo, and gear that he keeps on his person. The team may be going in the slow way, crossing borders without notice, but they're expecting trouble every step of the way.
Check complete, Gabe kisses Jack quickly one more time. "I'll see you in a week," he promises.
"You better," Jack replies. He refuses to think there's any other option.
Jack kicks a rock at the cinderblock wall as he paces. It makes a dull thump against the main building of their section of the compound, but he doesn't care. No one is sleeping easy tonight anyway. Four of their own are out there, lives on the line, with the best plan their collective brainpower could come up with. Tonight, it all comes to a head.
And no one expects it to be good enough. The Deadlocks are far too strong for a four man team to take on and emerge unscathed. Everyone is hoping for injured instead of dead. Injured they can handle.
For now, Jack is on self-assigned restless pacing duty. The rest of the squad sits huddled in the common area, waiting together for the phone to ring. Jack tried to wait with them, but it felt too much like a vigil for him in there. Out here isn't much better, but at least everyone leaves him the hell alone with his shitty thoughts.
Someone will come get him when they have news. Good or bad, they'll let him know right away.
Jack hears the door open behind him and halts his pacing to turn and look. But it's just López, lighting a cigarette with a careless shrug.
"I know. These fuckin' things'll kill me," he says as he leans up against the building.
Jack turns back away without an answer. Who knows if they'll ever get out of here? Why worry about a little lung cancer in the future?
"The captain will bring their asses back," López says. "He'll drag 'em back from hell if he has to."
"Just so he has witnesses to what a shitstorm it was when he talks to Petras," Jack agrees, continuing his pacing.
"Exactly."
Jack hears López push off the building, gravel crunching as he comes up beside him. López puts a firm hand on his shoulder, halting his movement. "Gabe'll be fine. Son of a bitch is too damn stubborn to die. You know this. He'll tell the devil to send his ass back, that he's not done kicking ours."
Jack laughs despite the heavy weight in his gut, shoving López off.
The door creaks open again.
"Morrison," Sanchez calls from the doorway. "Medina's on the line."
Jack spins around. He's excited for news and dreading it at the same time. Why is Medina calling and not Gabe? Jack rushes back inside, trying not to get lost in wild speculation. He's got a job to do, and he is the second in command around here now along with being their medic. He pushes his personal feelings aside.
"Morrison here," Jack growls into the phone.
The connection is crackling and disjointed. He can barely hear Medina on the other side. "Morrison?" Medina sounds breathless. "We're on our way back. Target's eliminated."
Jack waits without responding, resuming his pacing instead. Medina pauses only for a breath before continuing his rapid-fire report.
"We encountered heavy resistance on the way out. Two injured enough we need to get them to the docs. Reyes is the worst. Gunshot wound in the side. Stephens got winged. That quick-clot powder worked like a charm on him, but it still needs to be checked. Prep the hospital for Gabe, would ya? We think he's gonna need surgery. He lost a lot of blood. Semi-conscious now and the fucker still wants the phone."
Jack smiles slightly. He can just see Gabe trying to grab the phone away. The man is the worst damn patient.
"We're pretty sure he's stable enough that he'll make it now. We're inbound in about an hour. We got the external bleeding stopped, but I think there's something else going on." Jack hears scuffling on the other side of the line over the static. "Fine, sir." Medina's voice sounds further away. "But you say anythin' embarrassin' and we're never fuckin' lettin' you live it down."
"Jack." Gabe's voice is slurred.
"Hey, heard you got shot." Jack keeps his voice calm and even despite his racing heart.
"Fucker was gonna shoot Medina in the back. Couldn't let him do that." Gabe sounds like he's fading fast.
"Yeah, that's just not right." Jack clenches his eyes shut, glad that he's meandered to the doorway and isn't facing the rest of the team. "You get some rest, okay? I gotta let the hospital know you're coming."
"'kay." Gabe pauses for long enough that Jack thinks he's done. "Tell them to fix me up quick. I got to tell Petras he's an asshole and I told 'im so."
"You got it." Jack bites back the 'I love you' he wants to tack on. Now is neither the time nor the place. An unsecured line, standing in a room full of people who can't be allowed to know officially? Career suicide. Even if none of them are prone to asking too many questions about their commanders' relationship.
Gabe's mumbled reply is unintelligible, but Jack's pretty sure he knows what he said.
Jack hangs up the phone and takes a deep breath. He straightens up before addressing the rest of the squad, relaying the information Medina gave him.
López tags along as Jack leaves to prep the hospital on base. They're lucky they don't have to ship more people out. The on base hospital can handle all measure of injuries. Not a luxury most bases have, but a necessity considering the black ops running out of this place.
"Fucker gonna be okay?" López asks. "Or you need a hard ass shoulder to cry on for awhile?"
"He'll be fine." Jack hangs on to his optimism with an iron grip. Not that he has much on the best of days. And today is not the best of days, but if he doesn't stay optimistic, he's afraid of what he might let slip.
López grabs his arm and stops his progress. "Okay. Then take a goddamn minute before you go in there. 'Cause the bastards back there might not ask a lot of questions, but you know the stupid ass hospital staff will. The way you look right now, you're gonna get yourself fucking outed. And I sure as hell don't want to have to break in a new goddamn CO or two."
Jack takes the advice and stops. He closes his eyes and takes a few seconds to breath in the dark of night, reconstructing the mask he wears daily when it comes to Gabe, before turning and facing López.
"Good." Lòpez slaps his shoulder. "Now you can go let them know what they got incoming. Tell them I said they better do a damn good job."
Gabe slowly runs his fingers through Jack's hair, keeping an eye on the door. He has no idea what reason Jack gave the hospital staff to let him wait in here for Gabe to wake up from surgery. But he's sure it won't hold up to them finding him asleep, sitting in a chair, upper half leaning over to rest on the bed with his head pillowed up against Gabe's good side.
Gabe's going to let him sleep for as long as possible. He doubts Jack slept much while he was gone.
He fights the lingering effects of the anesthesia, feeling the need to stand guard over Jack's slumber. And wanting to think about the shit show that the damn mission became.
He knew going in that it was going to be close. He knew that their mark had a larger resistance force than Petras said their intelligence showed. Asshole.
And he knew enough about the fucking Deadlocks to expect it. Seeing faces from some of his intelligence reports around Jesse when he pulled the kid out of Santa Fe a year ago scared the shit out him. He's been tracking these assholes for years. He knows what they can bring to the table and how much resistance they should have expected.
He did not expect their damn mark to know that they were coming. The guy was waiting for them, smirking at them even when Gabe put a bullet through him.
After that, the trap had been sprung. Gabe knows they were lucky to get out alive. Stephens will need weeks to heal on that arm. Gabe himself is fresh out of surgery based on the weird, flighty feeling he knows well from the anesthesia wearing off. And Medina and García are bruised, battered, and shaken up all to hell.
It'd seemed like the whole damn city was out to get them. One bullet is not that loud. There must have been an alarm somewhere. Either something they tripped or something their mark set off without them noticing. There's no other fucking explanation for it.
Gabe hears the beeping of his heart monitor speed up and deliberately takes a deep breath. Set that stupid ass thing off and everyone's going to be running into his room. Which is the absolute last thing that he wants.
He sighs when it slows again without Jack stirring or anyone coming in.
Gabe looks around the room for a distraction. He needs to stop thinking about the damn mission. He's not going to be able to do that freely until the staff unhooks him from his fucking electronic babysitter. He spots his phone sitting on the bedside table. Someone must have brought it in for him. The stretch pulls on his newly acquired stitches, but he's able to grab it.
Gabe turns it on and unlocks the phone easily. Getting it to connect to the spotty base WiFi takes several minutes. The phone is new and shiny, a present from his mamá so he could stay in touch with them easier. The WiFi on base is not.
He just gets it to connect and sees a waiting email from Jesse when a noise in the hallway interrupts him. He can hear López's voice at what must be the nurses' station asking about whether or not he's awake.
He doesn't hear the reply; López is a loud motherfucker at any given moment, but right now his voice is loud even for him. It's a warning, and Gabe heeds it quickly.
"Jack," Gabe murmurs, shaking a shoulder. Jack mumbles and shifts around, but he doesn't come any closer to awake and alert. Gabe smiles despite the situation. That man can sleep anywhere through anything and while Gabe normally loves that about him, it's about to be a big fucking problem.
"C'mon, soldier." Gabe clears his throat and reaches for his command voice. "Up and at 'em."
Jack snaps up, glancing around a few times like he doesn't recognize where he is before focusing in on Gabe. He smiles when he sees him awake. But anything Jack may have said is interrupted by the door as it bangs open. Instead, he snaps to attention as Petras enters trailed by López.
Gabe gives Jack a quick once over and is relieved to see nothing out of place before focusing on Petras.
"Forgive me for not getting up, sir," Gabe says, infusing his voice with his most insolent growl. "Pretty sure the medical staff would get angry if I tried."
Petras scowls at him. "Fine. What I want to know is what the hell happened? This was supposed to be covert."
"What happened?" Gabe glares right back, voice rising. "Exactly what I damn well told you was going to happen. Sir." He spits the title like an insult, ignoring the alarm in the background. "It was a fucking trap, and we barely got the hell out. And we clearly didn't fucking get out unscathed."
"So you triggered an alarm?" Petras asks, ignoring the small handful of medical staff that comes rushing in the room.
Gabe tries to shrug off the nurse reaching over to check his side as the second turns off the alarm. "I'm fine."
"Sir," the nurse begins to protest, but Petras talks over him.
"I need to know what happened. And the Captain said he's fine."
"Look, I'll hit the little button if anything feels funny." Gabe tries to sound reassuring. "But I'd rather get this over with."
"I really can't let you do that." The nurse draws himself up to his full height. "The Captain just came out of surgery. Any increase in his heart rate and blood pressure increases the chances of complications."
Petras glares. "I don't know–"
Gabe decides that he likes this nurse when he cuts Petras off mid-sentence. "Specifically, a clot formed from the internal bleeding could break up and kill him. So you are going to be leaving my patient alone. I will go get the doctor if you want," the nurse offers, folding his arms over his chest, "but you know that he'll agree with me. So how about you get out, sir?" It's clearly not a question.
Petras glares at the man's ID badge for a moment and then stalks out of the room without another word.
"Look," the nurse leans back over to check Gabe's side as the other staffer follows Petras out. "I know your type. You don't want to be here. You think you're fine, and you want to deal with your lovely CO ASAP."
López chuckles from the corner. "Oh, he's got your number, sir."
"But you are not ready for that medically. If you don't believe me, ask your medic over there."
Gabe glances over at Jack who nods in agreement, grin annoyingly smug.
"I'll cut you a deal. You be a good little soldier and your friends here can stay. If you let me finish checking you out now and you promise to rest, we'll leave you alone. That means," the nurse hastens to add when Gabe opens his mouth, "you do not get out of that bed, and you do nothing that will raise your blood pressure until I tell you it's allowed. You promise me that, and there will be no fuss, no checkups, for next," the nurse glances at the clock, "four hours until dinner comes around. Deal?"
"Deal," Gabe agrees readily. Four hours of peace is by far the longest he's ever been left alone in this damn place.
"Thank you," the nurse says, as if he'd known he'd win. Gabe scowls at Jack and López as they snicker quietly but keeps silent as the nurse checks his vital signs, prods his wound, and changes the dressing. "You do all of that and you should be out of here in the next seventy-two hours. Then you can debrief for as long as you want."
"Four hours?" Gabe asks as the man goes to leave.
"I promise, sir. Four hours unless you set off an alarm or hit your little button." The nurse closes the door on his way out.
Gabe relaxes back against his pillows when Jack retakes his seat.
"You look exhausted, Jackie." Gabe reaches a hand out and Jack grabs it with both of his.
"Asshole didn't sleep the entire time you were gone." López pulls up a seat on his other side. "Looks almost as bad as you."
"Hey!" Jack protests.
"It's true." López shifts around and pulls his phone out of his pocket. "You two get comfortable. Rest. I'll keep watch."
"Thanks," Gabe says softly. Even with the guard he normally wouldn't take the risk. But he came far too close to dying to pass it up today.
"No problem, sir. Just pretend I'm not here." López pulls a face, looking over from his phone. "Actually, wait, don't do that."
Gabe chuckles, grimacing when it pulls at his side. "C'mon." Gabe tugs on Jack's arm and slides very carefully over on the bed. It's not really made for two, but it's bigger than the bunks and they've made that work. "You'll sleep better up here."
Jack stands from the chair, but doesn't go any further. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."
"I've got your backs. I'll wake you up if anyone comes near." López stands up and shifts his chair directly in front of the door. He settles back in kicking his feet up onto the end of the bed. "Promise."
Gabe tugs on Jacks hand again and he comes without protest this time. Gabe feels him settle against his good side and slide an arm carefully across him before he lets the lingering exhaustion take over and sleeps.
August 2010
Gabe sets a tray of fresh drinks down on the table to a chorus of cheers. He grabs his own Coke, wishing it was something stronger, before sliding back into the booth beside Jack. He's still under medical advice to not drink. They didn't even want him to travel, but fuck that.
The entire squad is off on a three day leave following the clusterfuck of a mission that almost got him killed. Gabe thought about going back to LA to see Jesse, but three days off means he'd get about six hours at home what with finding official flights from a base that exists on paper and all associated layovers. Not to mention having to actually get to that official base in the first place.
He still would have done it to see the kid, but his mamá said Jesse's class is on an overnight field trip or something this weekend. Something Jesse is apparently excited about, for the first time since leaving Santa Fe. It's been hard enough for him to adjust. Gabe doesn't want to ruin such a positive step.
He'd settled for a long Skype call over slightly better internet than the base provides. It's not the same, but it will have to do for now. Maybe he could swing some real leave soon. Jack could handle things in his absence no problem.
So instead of LA, Gabe's with his team in the nearest city with a beach that they're relatively confident they won't be recognized in. Which wasn't even difficult to get to, after promising their favorite pilot free drinks all weekend.
Meant they got here with enough time to enjoy their three days in full. Definitely worth the tab Gabe knows Fio will run up.
Gabe's phone buzzes in his pocket and he works at extracting it. The process is made more difficult by the human octopus Jack has become next to him. It's thankfully a discreet level of handsy hidden mostly by the table and they are in a dark corner of the bar, but Gabe still makes a mental note to intercept his next few drinks. He may not be able to drink them right now, but he's sure López will gladly double up for a bit.
He does manage to retrieve his phone after physically moving Jack's hand. Gabe frowns when he sees a call incoming from his house. He may have a fancy new phone, but international calling is still fucking expensive.
Gabe hauls himself back up out of the booth, hiding a grimace at the pull of newly healed skin on his side. He holds his phone up towards the table as an explanation and is met with a chorus of boos and a pout from Jack.
"Fuckers," Gabe shouts back, smacking off Medina's uncoordinated grasp at his phone. "I'll be right back, assholes. I have to take this."
"Bring back shots!" Fio yells at his retreating back.
Gabe flips off their pilot with one hand as he answers the phone with the other.
"Hola?" Gabe yells over the noise of the bar. He can feel his heart starting to race with worry. Is something wrong? Something bad enough to warrant a call instead of the usual emails? Maybe he should have gone home after all.
"Tío!" Jesse's voice cuts through the static easily once Gabe makes his way out of the bar.
"Hey, kiddo. What's going on?"
"Abuela said I could call. We won!" Jesse's voice is jubilant and Gabe breathes a little easier. Apparently, there's nothing wrong there after all.
"You did?" Gabe prompts even as he tries to remember what Jesse had going on this weekend that he could win.
Gabe leans against the brick wall of the bar as he listens to Jesse describe fútbol games in great detail. Ah, that's right. It's a weekend tournament away, not a school trip. Some major thing for ten year olds, Gabe guesses. It sounds like Jesse's having a blast. And possibly running on the world's biggest sugar high.
The bar door opens in the middle of Jesse's enthusiastic storytelling. Gabe smiles as Jack emerges and even in the dusk light, Gabe can see he's glassy-eyed. Someone must have gotten tired of waiting for Gabe and fetched the shots on their own.
Jack stumbles slightly on his way over, and Gabe reaches out his free hand to steady him. Jack latches onto Gabe's side instead and Gabe stifles a grunt in pain.
"Missed you," Jack mumbles into his shoulder.
Gabe is glad that the phone is on his other side. He's not ready for Jesse to be asking questions about Jack. Gabe glances around before leaning in to press a silent kiss into Jack's hair.
"That's great, kid," Gabe says into the phone as Jesse finally runs out of words, keeping one arm wrapped around Jack. He's pleased to hear Jesse speak so freely, that he sounds like he's in a much better state than he'd been when Gabe'd first left him in LA.
"It was really awesome," Jesse agrees. Despite being completely wound up at the beginning of the call, Gabe can hear Jesse trying to stifle a yawn.
"I'm sure. But it's getting late, isn't it?" Gabe laughs at Jesse's groan. His protest that he isn't tired gets interrupted by another yawn. "Where's abuela? I think it's time for bed."
"Can I send you a picture of the trophy first? It's really cool," Jesse says with one last burst of enthusiasm. Gabe chuckles. He knew it was late there no matter how energetic Jesse sounded initially.
"Sure, but then bed. I'll call you tomorrow while I've still got good internet, okay?" Gabe glances down at Jack, still resting against his shoulder, and bites his lip. He really needs to figure out what he wants to do about that in the future.
He wants Jack in his life, which means Jack will have to meet Jesse. Jesse is definitely around for good. But he doesn't know if that's what Jack wants. Is this just a wartime thing? Convenient for both of them? He doesn't think so, but Gabe doesn't like acting before he's sure. Does Jack even like kids? Does he really want to introduce Jesse to someone that might not stick around? All questions he needs to deal with, but nothing that he can discuss with Jack right now.
Gabe hangs up with Jesse and waits a few moments for his phone to buzz again. He pulls the picture up, even as Jack grumbles.
"Don't know how you stand that thing," Jack mostly slurs into his shoulder.
"What? It's a phone," Gabe replies absently, smiling at a grinning Jesse holding up a trophy. He's sweaty and grass stained, from what Gabe can see, but looks more excited than he's ever seen the boy.
"Not just a phone. Does too much. Too smart." Jack starts slipping down Gabe's side.
"Sure, Sunshine." Gabe pulls Jack back up. "Too smart. You can use Morse code and smoke signals, old man. The rest of us are going to live in this century."
Jack's reply is too mumbled for Gabe to make out. Gabe hauls him over to a low wall and sets him on it.
"I need to sleep," Jack slurs, trying to wrap himself around Gabe as if he's going to sleep right there. "Damn Fio and her tequila shots." That definitely explains Jack's state. The man can never handle tequila, but Fio talks him into it every damn time. Gabe wrestles him off just in time as footsteps crunch on the road behind them.
"You all right, Cap?" Medina asks.
"Yeah. Morrison needs a bed though," Gabe says. Jack tries to straighten himself on the wall without Gabe's support and almost topples over backwards before Gabe steadies him again. "I'm going to take him back. Make sure he doesn't fucking die on the way."
"Sure thing. Need a hand?" Medina offers, as though Gabe can't see him wobbling on his feet a bit too.
"No, it's still early. Stay out. I got him. Tell Fio I owe her a shot. I'll pay up later," Gabe answers.
"You got it." Medina gives him a sloppy salute before going back inside.
Gabe looks at Jack, sprawled in a semi-conscious heap balanced precariously atop the low wall before him, with a fond smile. He wrestles the man to his feet and supports most of his weight on the short walk back to the hotel.
A room shortage when they got here had meant someone had to share. He and Jack had jumped discreetly at the opportunity, claiming they didn't mind taking one for the team. That they could handle sharing for a few days. The others readily agreed without too much thought, while López had stood behind everyone else giving his commanders a knowing smirk.
Gabe wrestles Jack out of most of his clothes and gets him settled into the bed. Jack grabs at Gabe's hands with no coordination but Gabe easily fends him off, conceding with a trail of kisses across Jack's freckle-dusted skin. He allows Jack to claim one long, sloppy kiss even though he has to help him fit their mouths together. He knows Jack's going to pass out as soon as he is horizontal, and there's no use starting anything more if it's just going to leave them both frustrated. They still have another day of leave left to put to full use.
Sure enough, Jack slides back against the pillow with a sigh and is out before he's fully prone. Gabe kneels next to him, running light fingers down Jack's arm with a fond little smile. Jack's going to wake up hung over as fuck and he can already hear the whining. Despite everything, he's looking forward to it.
Gabe takes some time to clean up before climbing into the bed himself. He settles carefully onto his uninjured side and wraps an arm around Jack, reveling in the freedom to spend all night together uninterrupted.