A/N: I feel that the last chapter requires a little bit of explanation but I didn't want to include it in that chapter because that would have given it away and the last author note was getting a bit too long as well. So, I sat down to write the last chapter and fully intended to write a sex scene but in the middle of it, I got a call from my mother asking me to drive up to the train station and pick up my little brother. Along the way, the song 'Just a Kiss' by Lady Antebellum was playing on the radio, and it really made me stop and think.

There's an awful lot of glorification of sex going on, especially in fan-fiction where I think to a certain extent, we're encouraged to read and write porn and it's supposedly not the same – or not as bad – as actual porn. And although this is a story about two guys, so there's a certain chain of thought that says they'd probably be jumping in bed together as soon as possible. I personally think that they would both be unprepared for it and, as I wrote, Scarecrow's sensible side would win out. Plus, I reckon from the books that he's definitely got a real romantic side. Don't get me wrong, as some point they'll probably be sleeping together – whether it's in this story or in the sequel (of which there are more details about on my profile page) – but I just wanted to highlight that there's nothing wrong with making the decision that some things are worth waiting for, and that it's worth taking the chance of finding the perfect relationship and having plenty of time for sex later on than blowing it now, if you'll pardon the pun.

Just a shot in the dark that you just might
be the one I've been waiting for my whole life
so I'm alright with just a kiss goodnight

I've been waiting for the plot to get to this point for a very long time so I'm pretty excited to be able to share these last couple of chapters with you now! So, on with the chapter.

Chapter 20

By the time the ball itself rolled around, Schofield only had a handful of days remaining as a marine and in his opinion, there were more important things to worry about, like what the hell he was going to do with himself when he didn't have to live his life by the chime of a marine clock, but his unit were pre-occupied with other matters.

"When are we going to meet this boyfriend of yours?" Book wanted to know, "With you being my best man and all, I'm assuming he'll be at the wedding and I'd sort of like to meet him before that."

"Plus, he's got to pass my inspection," Mother added, "before it gets serious."

"I bet he's sweet," Skip said dreamily.

Sanchez helpfully supplied a comment involving leather, chains and fishnets that made Astro blush something terrible. Bigfoot diplomatically avoided saying anything at all and Rebound was still trying to get his head around his hero having a boyfriend.

Really, the last thing Shane needed was Jack adding his two cents worth into the mix.
"We're going to have to meet him eventually," he said cheekily and – as much as it irritated him to admit it – truthfully.

Some days, he thought Jack was right. The sneaking was starting to drive him crazy. He'd thought he'd done away with lying and hiding in that courtroom what felt like eons ago but he was still trapped, half-tied back in a closet that was suffocating him.

Then his rational side would remind him that this was all for Jack's sake. If anybody found out, well, he figured getting your boyfriend fired wasn't the best way to begin a relationship.

Only, Jack wanted out as well. It was his fucking idea to go to the bloody ball together anyway, and it was one thing to perhaps decide to tell a few trustworthy and discreet friends.
And maybe Mother as well.
But to out himself in public in front of every influential politician, high-ranking officer Shane could think of and the president himself. It wasn't courage or pride, it was suicide.
One thing the whole dilemma had taught him though; Jack Taylor didn't do things by halves.

And then that would bring him back to thinking that he was probably right and the cycle would continue. All he knew for sure was that if it didn't end soon, it would do his head in.

The problem was, Jack was willing to destroy his life for Shane and Shane was willing to do whatever it took to shield Jack from all the crap he'd already been through.
Ain't love grand?

The argument, both internal and external, continued right up until the last minute, when Schofield was trying to double check that his full dress blues were spotless with only the pathetically small mirror in the bathroom and Jack hanging off his shoulders.

"No," he said as firmly as he could manage with Jack's arms wrapped around his chest and Jack's mouth teasing the sensitive spot at the base of his neck.

"Pretty please," Jack replied teasingly, catching Shane's eye in the reflection.

"No," Schofield repeated, but even he could hear how unconvinced he sounded. Much to his irritation, Jack spun him around so they were practically nose to nose and brought his hands up to cup Schofield's face, rubbing one thumb gently across the thick, ropey skin of a scar.
"You don't need to protect me," he said softly, leaning in to place a quick kiss on his lips.

"Because hey," Jack added, "I'm perfectly capable of screwing up my own life.

He was pleased to see the smallest hint of a smile quirk at Schofield's lips, so he pressed on.

"Mother's got Ralph, Book's got Juliet. You can't be the loser going solo now can you?" Jack said, counting the reasons off on his fingers as he went. "And besides, I've already got my uniform pressed and ready."

Schofield didn't know how to respond so he stalled for time by dragging Jack into a rough kiss, full of heat, not a little teeth and the coppery hint of blood. In a way that was fast becoming desperate, Schofield tried to pour everything he was feeling into that kiss. One part anger for all that he had lost, one part fear of the future and just a hint of resentment that Jack still had it all and wanted to throw it away anyway.
For him.

As soon as he'd acknowledged those feelings festering in a corner of his mind he'd been trying to ignore, it felt like a weight had lifted and he could function again. He wasn't angry that he'd lost a job inasmuch as he had lost the security and comfortable familiarity of his entire adult life. It wasn't only his future he was frightened for but Jack's as well – together or not together, marine or no – and, he knew at the end of the day, this was Jack's decision. It wasn't his job to make it for him, or to try and shield him from it. It was his job to support him in whatever decision he made.
After all, few people would know better than himself the pressures of the closet and the mental gymnastics of the coming out rigmarole – especially in the military.

Hell, maybe it would be easier if they both got thrown out.

"Fine," he said, tearing his mouth back but not removing his forehead from where it was resting against Jack's. Every breath he took was one Jack had just exhaled.
"Fine," he repeated.

Then abruptly, he looked up and was smiling naughtily. With his hands still flat on Jack's chest, Schofield pushed him backwards out of the room, saying, "You've got thirty seconds to be ready."

Whilst Jack threw his dress blues on as quickly as he possibly could, Schofield snuck downstairs to make sure none of the others had returned from dinner early. Even though it wouldn't really matter from tonight onwards, he was hoping to at least be able to leave the barracks without too much drama.
Which promptly reminded him not to drink too much. Tomorrow morning was almost certainly going to be a fuss anyway and adding a hangover into the mix was only going to make it unbearable.

By the time the stylish black car – another apparent perk of saving the president's life - had arrived to collect them, he was feeling seriously nervous but just then, Jack came bounding down the stairs, also a clear bundle of nervous energy. Shane was happy to see that he stood tall, looking proud in his full dress uniform, which incidentally looked great on him. They really were a triumph of design – dignified and well-tailored, there were few who didn't look good in them but Jack, he had to admit, looked stunning. The jacket was tight across his shoulders and chest, the red stripe of the pale blue pants accentuating his height, the stiff white collar giving an elegant edge to his easy going smile. He almost startled himself when he realised he himself probably didn't look all that shabby either. Tonight, he was proud to be wearing the uniform that marked him out as a marine and he was proud to do it standing beside another marine, his marine.

'Actually,' he thought ironically, 'whoever designed these was probably gay.'

Straight-backed, Schofield took Jack's hand as they slid into the car and when the driver – holding the door open for them – gave them an odd look, he just glared right back. This night was for Jack and he wasn't going to let anything spoil it.