Page 2 of Oddly Fine

“Perfectly.”

“Good. Good. Ain’t too many people crazy enough to shackle themselves to your worthless ass.”

Beckett growled and elbowed him on principle.

“Amen,” Hayes said in Beckett’s ear.

“I’m not that bad to live with,” Beckett protested earnestly.

Loic snorted and rolled his eyes.

“Frenchie, I love you, but you’re ten clicks left of alright, and two steps away from cuckoo.” Loic looked surprisingly serious. “Don’t get me wrong—I’d take you with me into a war zone any day, but when it comes to everyday life—” he gave a low whistle like that was simply beyond imagining.

“Fuck off! I’m perfectly palatable in real life too!”

“Perfectly palatable?” Loic questioned with a frown. “The Brit’s been rubbing off on you.” Then he adopted a comically confused expression. “Do dudes rub off on each other? Can you like—cum from rubbing your disco sticks together? Kinda sounds like a fire hazard!” Loic chuckled to himself, contemplating the myriad possibilities.

“I ain’t answering that—if you’re so curious, you can go get your own man and find out for yourself,” Beckett advised with a smug grin.

“Damn, there it is—that gay agenda everyone’s been talking about—you’re trying to turn me queer!” Loic accused loudly. Fortunately, right about that time, there was a major play on the field that drew jeers and shouts from the spectators, so Loic’s outrageous claim was drowned out.

“You’re an idiot. No one would ever put me in charge of recruitment. I’m not organized enough for that,” Beckett replied, playing along.

Loic snickered and took another sip of his beer.

“Anyway, I’ve sucked a dick before and I can safely say, it ain’t for me,” Loic stated with casual confidence.

Beckett choked on his beer. Hacking and coughing, he fought to breathe. Loic pounded his back energetically, laughing in delight at eliciting this extreme reaction.

“Dude! What the fuck?” Beckett exclaimed in patent disbelief once he’d recovered.

“Come on, Frenchie. You think you’re the only one who wanted to dip his toe in the other pool? I was horny and young once too!” Loic winked at him playfully, and Beckett rolled his eyes, since Loic was just two years younger than Beckett.

“Bullshit!” Beckett refuted with a shake of his head. “Who?”

“Can’t say. I don’t blow and tell!” He raised his hands defensively and, in the process, spilled more of his beer on Beckett’s jeans. Again.

“Calice!”

“Oops! Sorry!” Unsurprisingly, Loic did not sound the least bit apologetic. “Doesn’t answer my original question though.”

“Which one?” Beckett asked while furiously swiping at the wet spot with a handful of napkins, only to make an even bigger mess as all they did was disintegrate in his hand.

“How’d you score two tickets for this game if you’re still enjoying riding your honey bear’s D?”

“Honey bear is not making the list of acceptable nicknames. I’m drawing a line,” Hayes stated emphatically in his ear, and Beckett bit back a laugh.

“Since my honey booboo used to be a sniper for the SEALs, and the sniper slated for the job today is out sick this week, our boss asked him to fill in. Figured he might as well ask for tickets. Worst thing they could say was no.”

It took Loic a few seconds to process this. Then his eyes widened dramatically as he quickly began scanning the upper decks of the stadium, checking for possible locations of a sniper’s nest.

“Holy shit! I thought the whole thing about a sniper at NFL games was a hoax! Navy’s working the stadium? That’s hot!”

“Do you think it’s hot?” Hayes whispered huskily.

Before leaving their condo that morning, Beckett had begged Hayes to wear their personal comms device as well as the one issued by stadium officials. Typically, Beckett was the one saying all the inappropriate shit over their private channel. Surprisingly enough, today Hayes had turned the tables on him, and was quickly becoming a genuine menace.

“I don’t know about hot—snipers always seemed like sissies to me.” Beckett sneered as he pretended to concentrate on the game.