With Our Backs to the Wall

Chapter VI:

Sophia called two days later. John had just exited the shower he had shared with Heath, who was still there, determined to find out if it was possible to use up all the hot water.

He almost didn't answer it and when he did he felt dirty, dirty because he was talking to her with Heath stained all over him.

She apologised for her outbreak, blamed it on PMS, on her parents, on her missing him, made him promise to come home again as soon as possible. And in the end he regretted accepting the call, because hearing her voice, her laughter, her stupid, stupid jokes made him realize what he was doing to her. It didn't feel as fair as it did the night he had called Heath.

Then his worries were swept away, or at least swept under the carpet, by arms embracing him from behind, from kisses planted on his neck.

"You're wet," John mumbled, and grabbed one of Heath's wrists assiduously, caressing with his thumb.

"I'm also not dressed," Heath whispered into his neck, and they both chuckled and locked the door, the door that was only to be locked if they were changing, just in case.

Weeks fled by, and their days were filled by hard training, torture from the sergeants, and sex. It was almost too easy, nobody ever suspected. It was enough empty closets, cellars, storage rooms to slam together about whenever. Not to talk about their own room, though that was probably the riskiest place.

It was the honeymoon period, John realized, when he sat before his parents as they handed him the family ring.

"We don't want to pressure you," his mother started.

"...But we're still encouraging you. Unbound relationships are more... likely to shatter," His father finished, lying.

John wasn't stupid, he knew how badly he wanted to make business with Sophia's dad, how much this would help him get what he wanted.

That's what John told him, when his mother had left the room.

Old McCoy stumped his cigarette in the ash tray.

"Son, if you don't do this, and soon, I'll write you of my will."

John laughed.

"Dad, this isn't the middle ages. You can't disown me for not marrying some rich guy's daughter."

"It's not like you met her yesterday! We never forced you together, you fell in love yourself. All I ask is that you rush things up a bit. You would've married her anyways, you told me she was the girl of your dreams!"

"Well things can change!"

John regretted saying it the second the words left his mouth.

McCoy was studying his son's face.

"You've met someone else, haven't you?"

"No!" John barked. Then he softened.

"I only meant that... we're too young. In a second something could change, and though I do love her I don't trust that we'll feel the same forever."

McCoy shook his head.

"I knew I was right about women in the military, takes away the focus of the men and makes no use of themselves..."

John sighed, tapping his leg impatiently, constantly checking his phone. One minute since Heath replied "OMW" to John's sos message with the address pinned.

"John... you can sleep with as many women you want. But I need you to marry this one. It's not like I'm kidnapping you and dragging you to church, you have a choice. If you really value your hookups with that lover of yours more than having two powerful families behind you and a beautiful girl by your side, then you do that. You go fucking do that."