R is for Return
They were still about a day from dry land. The life raft puttered along. Everyone had eventually fallen asleep, except Cougar. He sat, wide awake, with both eyes on the scruff of blonde that stuck up from under a blanket a few inches away. When he was sure everyone else was sleeping, he reached over to run his fingers through the spikey blonde mess. Jensen grumbled and rolled over, eyes open, looking up at Cougar.
"If you wanted to see if I was awake, you coulda just asked," he said.
Cougar smiled, keeping his hand on Jensen's head, looking down at him with that look, that little, misty look he got sometimes, usually when he was thinking about the angelitos.
"Cougar... Cougar, what is it?" Jensen asked, sitting up and scooting closer to him. Cougar answered by pulling Jensen even closer and holding him like a vice.
"Thought you were dead for sure," he said quietly, "And it would have been my fault. I don't think I would have been able to live with myself if I had gotten you killed, Jensen..."
"Didn't we go through this the last time I got shot?" Jensen replied, slipping his arms around Cougar. "I'm still alive, ain't I? I'm still here, still kicking. I know I can count on you to save me, Cougs, and the number of times you've saved my stupid white ass really outnumber the times I've come close to dyin'."
Cougar squeezed him, then let him go. "You're lucky."
"Don't I know it." Jensen replied, smiling as he grabbed his blanket and settled in for the night next to his sniper.