Six months later...
Guildford, Surrey, England
"You okay?"
"Stop fucking asking me that."
"I've only asked the once."
"Maybe this bus ride." Jason rung his hands together, the dry and callous skin rough against his fingertips.
The bus shunted forward from its stop, causing Robin to bash into him from the side. Jason tried not to react, darting his gaze to the other passengers on the busy Routemaster. It wasn't that he minded the close contact, it had been a fucking long time since he'd had any, but it sent him reeling through a dozen emotions he couldn't control.
He only had room in his small brain for one.
Robin straightened out, shifted in the dual seat and gazed out of the window. Jason immediately felt like shit.
"Sorry," he mumbled to his boots. They could do with a polish, caked in mud and God knew what else from the trek across country.
Robin didn't remove his stare from the passing leafy surroundings of England's Surrey county. Nothing had changed much in the year or so since Jason had last visited. Probably a new Aldi here and there, pubs turned into convenience stores and the odd new roundabout. Not that Jason had paid much attention to Robin's home town back then either. But it gave him a welcome relief from dealing with the shit in his head as they travelled through the suburbs. He wished he'd bought that car against Robin's judgement that he couldn't drive.
"I won't ask again." Robin's breath left a mist of condensation on the glass. He wiped it off with his sleeve, obviously not wanting it to distort the view. Jason could hardly blame the fella, Surrey was way more picturesque than the concrete paradise he was brought up in, or where they'd both been staying the past six months.
Nodding in response, regardless of the lack of any eye contact his way, Jason squeezed down the unaccustomed feelings of regret. Robin was the only one who would ask. But that soon evaporated when a scream launched out of nowhere from the back of the bus. Jason immediately reached for his rifle. Of course, it wasn't there. Although in camouflage, he was in civilian wear, on a civilian mode of transport, heading to civilian territory. It didn't prevent his heart elevating, breathing laboring and fingers trembling at his hip that had involuntarily lifted from the cushioned seat.
"Stop that! No!" A young mother yelled at her squawking sprog, barking an order that Jason was hard pressed not to follow. The kid, however, didn't and screamed louder. She wouldn't be making it as an army recruit in two decade's time, that was for sure. Still, Jason wasn't exactly known for following parental orders in his youth either, so there was still hope for the little thing, especially with her elevated temper.
Jason hadn't noticed his hand still hovering by his hip, patting around for his PLCE belt, until Robin curled his fingers around his wrist and flattened Jason's shaking hand down on his thigh. Removing his hand just as quick, Robin returned to the view outside the window. He didn't even utter the aforementioned two words that had driven Jason in-fucking-sane over the hundreds of miles already travelled. True to his word, the bastard.
"I'm okay." Jason traced the lines of his trouser camouflage. "I am."
"I didn't ask."
"Oh, don't go all fucking psycho snooty on me, you piece of fucking shit. I'm all right. I'm golden. I'm floating on a high fucking breezy."
Robin dragged his gaze from the window and landed it on Jason. It looked like he was going to say something. Protest, maybe? That'd give Jason a reason to bark louder. But he didn't. Instead, a manicured nail prodded Jason's shoulder from behind and Jason twisted in the bus seat, coming face to face with the mother of the year.
"I know you're probably just out of Afghanistan or whatever, but I got a kid, yeah?" She popped her chewing gum and nodded to the sprog still screaming for a pre meal time snack. "Stop the cussing."
"Go fuck yourself." Jason sniffed, and turned back to face front.
Robin held up a hand behind him, surrendering to the enemy. "Leave it. He's sorry. I'm sorry. We're off at the next stop." He shoved Jason's arm.
Huffing, Jason clambered out of the seat and Robin shoved him further, grabbing the bags from the foot well. Once near the exit doors, Jason gripped the pole before he could land on some elderly gent to offer him lap dance.
"Thought you said it was at least ten stops." Jason huffed, snatching one of the bags from Robin and slinging it over his shoulder.
"It is. But you keep going the way you are, we'll be chucked off the bus anyway."
Jason shot a glance back to the scowling mother. If only she fucking knew. He nudged his head in her general direction, not bothering to lower his voice. "What's her beef?"
"You swore in front of her kid, then to her face."
"They not swear in Surrey? You Home County peeps all above that are ya? 'Cause I know you can scream a four letter beaut on certain occasions."
Robin chose to ignore that. And, in Jason's mind, it was a good job. 'Cause he was clearly in the mood for a fight, and Robin was on the wrong side for once. Turned out, Robin had learned a lot over the year's deployment and not all of it how to diffuse real ticking time bombs. Much of it was how to ignore Jason's ones.
"Sorry." Jason's fingernails received that apology.
"That's the fourth time now." Robin gripped the straps of his bag, his knuckles turning white. "Next time, say it to my face or don't bother saying it at all."
Jason slapped a hand to his thigh, gripping the pole tighter that his own knuckles faded of colour only to make the scrapes covering them more prominent. He shook his hand out, then rubbed those knuckles along Robin's cheek. Robin's dark stubble raged against the cuts, but the warmth exuding from his skin overrode the prickly sting. He then curled a finger under Robin's chin, sliding his thumb nail across the scar below Robin's bottom lip and dipped his head to meet with Robin's gaze.
"I'm sorry." Jason made sure to enunciate each syllable. It was only polite.
Robin drew in a breath, his dark eyes meeting Jason's. Jason smiled and rubbed his thumb tip along the plump cushions of Robin's trembling lips. Thinking it was probably about time, he didn't bother to check his surroundings before mouthing a few more words.
Robin widened his eyes, his eyebrows almost reaching the roof of the bus. Jason snorted, clutching the pole above his head just in time for the bus to jerk into another stop. Robin may well be catching flies with that gaping mouth.
"I could put something bigger in there, you want?" Jason flicked Robin's bottom lip with his finger.
Robin shook himself out, furrowing his brow. "You say that, now? Here!" He flapped a frustrated hand and gritted his teeth. "On a fucking bus!"
"Tut, tut, Private." Jason pointed a finger to the other passengers on board. "We have children present. Child friendly language, please."
"You, Sergeant Williams, are an absolute fucking wanker!" Robin finished off the delightful returning prose by punching Jason on the arm. Hard. And it fucking hurt.
Jason cackled, doing his best not to rub at the sore spot. This. This was a better way to get his mind off things.
Slapping a palm on the bell, Robin turned his back on Jason and adjusted the bag on his shoulder. "And don't think for one second I don't know the game you're playing, either." He shot a narrowed stare over his shoulder.
Jason mouthed a what in the most convincing display of innocence he could muster. Then cackled.
After several more stops in silence, the bus pulled into its final lay by and Robin jumped off. Jason almost felt guilty for that one too. Almost. Until Robin marched forward, not stopping until reaching the top of the slanting suburbs of detached housing, leaving Jason to have to limp begrudgingly behind.
Robin dropped his bag on the porch of the top detached house, with driveway and garage to boot, and chimed the doorbell. The bell wasn't just a buzz, or a ding, it was an actual chime of musical interlude that went on forever.
Approaching from behind, Jason jiggled nervously on the spot. He'd been here before, but that had been quite some time ago and not quite in the same circumstances. Jason rubbed his hands together, blowing out steam from rounded lips. "Let's just forget it."
Robin turned, meeting his gaze. "We're here now."
"We could just go get a hotel. Then I'll try Micky again in the morning."
Robin opened his mouth, but the door finally opened and he swivelled back.
"Robin!" Robin's mother, tall and slender, seemed to have aged drastically since Jason had last seen her. Not that he'd officially met the woman, but her wrinkles were deeper, the bags under her eyes darker, and the centre parting of hair noticeably greying at the roots.
"Mum." Robin nodded a greeting that didn't seem fitting for a soldier returning home after deployment.
"What an earth are you doing here? I wasn't notified of your return." She eyed Jason over Robin's shoulder and the wrinkles on her forehead tripled.
"We're on sabbatical." The curb received Robin's reply. It seemed many an inanimate object was getting more eye contact in this neck of the woods. Robin stepped a foot inside, then waved a hand behind him to Jason. "This is Sarg, er, Jason Williams. We'll be staying here a while."
Jason stepped forward, undecided whether to outstretch a hand for a shake, give the woman a salute or high five her. 'Cause she weren't getting no kiss, that was for damn sure. She didn't look the affectionate type. Especially with how she'd just greeted her son after a year abroad in one of the harshest terrains.
It seemed, though, that Mrs Underwood would rather Jason just keep his distance, as she ignored any type of casual greeting from him and followed her son through the house to the back kitchen. Not too bothered to receive a cold shoulder - he was all too used to it by now - Jason gathered the bags and limped on after.
Without all the people that had been in Robin's house the last time Jason had visited, he was a bit bowled over by the size. The kitchen alone was as big as his mum's council gaff. Massive island in the centre, dual stove, a fridge that looked like it could contain as much food to feed Jason's entire troop. For a whole year.
Whistling, Jason slung the bags down at Robin's feet. Robin helped himself to a bunch of letters tucked precariously behind some glass ornament on the counter, and flicked through.
"You've not opened any of these." Robin's eyes were firmly on the unopened mail and not on his mother who had gone straight for the liquor cabinet and pulled out a bottle.
Jason's lips salivated at the sight of her pouring the gin into a glass and adding ice with a flick of a button from the fridge door. She even had lemon already cut up in a glass bowl on the counter surface. How many of these did she get through in a day to warrant pre prepared slices?
"I can't face it." She necked back a hefty amount of the drink.
Jason silently applauded her. He wasn't sure why he was so silent about it. With the atmosphere the way it was, he could have clapped like a show sea lion and he'd still have been ignored.
"Mother." Robin slapped the mail to his thigh. "This is the house. The estate. Everything needs sorting out, if not for you then for Charlotte. It's been well over a year."
"Yes. And where have you been in that time?" She pointed an accusatory finger from around the glass, then slurped a bit more.
"Deployed."
"I had no news that you were coming home."
"No, you wouldn't." Robin threw the mail onto the island. "You're not my next of kin." He gathered up the bags, then nudged his head to Jason. "We'll be upstairs. we need to crash."
Jason offered a rather sweet smile that even he was a little shocked at how he'd achieved it, then followed Robin out of the kitchen, through the house and up a million stairs to reach a loft converted bedroom.
Chucking the bags by the desk, Jason glanced around. "There ain't no door."
"No."
"Bollocks."
Robin nodded, then ripped his jumper over his head, revealing his bare torso. Ruffling his hair back in place, he kept his back firmly to Jason. "Did you mean it?"
Fucking hell, the desk got that sentence.
"Mean what?" Jason perched on the edge of the bed, bouncing, testing the springs. "That I'm pissed off there ain't no door? Yeah. I am. We've spent six months shacked up with six other blokes. I was hoping for a teensy bit of solitude." Jason arched an eyebrow. "Weren't you?"
Robin whipped around. "Stop being like this. You know that wasn't what I meant."
Scraping at the dirt from his hands, Jason stood and hefted out a large exhale. "Come here."
"No. I need a shower."
"You know I like you dirty."
Robin cocked his head. Then bit his bottom lip suggestively. Little shit.
"You gonna make me come to you?"
"I'm not making you do anything." Robin widened his eyes, clearly trying to display that the statement might have many a deeper meaning. Tosser.
Robin turned his back on him, flicking the belt on his camouflage. Before he had a chance to slide them down his legs, Jason stepped forward. Or up, whatever. He wrapped his arms around Robin's waste from behind and nuzzled into his neck. "You smell good."
"I think you've developed a fetish for stale sweat and war paint." Robin angled his head, allowing Jason access to kiss his skin.
"You better believe it." Jason rocked his groin against Robin's arse. God, he wanted it. Needed it. That'd shut off the images. He kissed Robin's shoulder, brushing his lips against the protruding blade. He wasn't just making it up, Robin did smell good. That scent, so familiar, yet he hadn't been able to get this up close and personal to it for such a long time.
"Robin, I'll make up the guest room for your..." Robin's mother peered around the banister of the open tread stairs.
Jason immediately backed away. That's why there needs to be a fucking door! Robin spun around, meeting his mother's disapproving glare.
"We don't need the guest room, mother. Jason can stay in here. With me."
Jason winced, biting his thumbnail and edged further away to the point he hit the opposite wall.
"No he will not." Slamming her palm on the banister, she clomped up the remaining stairs into the room and pointed a menacing finger at Jason. "You're his superior! A sergeant!"
Jason opened his mouth. He planned to say something, he did. He just wasn't sure what at that point. Thankfully Robin got in between them both.
"We are on sabbatical. All ranks are null and void. For now." He flickered his wide eyed gaze to Jason. "Right?"
Jason didn't respond, instead he banged his head against the wall trying to fight off the demons that had returned to his mind.
Solitude. He needed solitude. And Robin. Not a squawking mother. If he could have handled that, he would have gone home.
Sighing, Robin turned his attention back to his mother. "If this is a problem-"
"You're damn right it's a problem! Your father will turn in his grave."
Robin actually snorted a laugh, which even Jason thought pretty cruel under the circumstances. And he'd just told a mother and her toddler to fuck off.
"Good job his grave is empty then."
Yeah, ouch.
And it would seem Mrs Underwood felt the blow to her very core. Stoic and poised, unabashed and pretty damn unreadable, she lurched forward and slapped Robin around the face.
Jason scrambled forward, shouldering Robin out of the way and grabbed the woman's wrist.
"I don't care if you're his mother, that's fucking assault and as an officer in Her Majesty's Army, I'll detain you under the civilian act and wait until the police get here. You get me?"
She didn't do anything. She just remained there, arm held in the air, shaking with anger. What was she so pissed off about?
"Jase." Robin slipped a hand on Jason's shoulder. "Let her go."
Jason did as commanded, not without a little over zealous shove of the woman's wrist, just to make sure he meant business. "No-one gets near him again." The carpet received that mumbled reply.
Robin sucked in a breath, rubbing a hand down Jason's back. "Breathe. I'm all right." He softened those dark eyes, and Jason nodded.
"You can stay." His mother interrupted, backing off to the stairs but stopped to point a finger at Jason. "But he cannot."
The heavy clumps down the stairs faded, leaving Robin and Jason alone in silence. Robin gripped the back of Jason's neck and pulled him closer. Jason wrapped his arms around him, burying his nose into Robin's neck.
"You're right. We shouldn't have come here," Robin whispered. "I forgot what a bitch she could be."
"That ain't nothing. You should meet my mum. And sister."
Robin stepped away. "Okay."
Jason furrowed his brow. "What?"
"Okay. Let's meet your mum."
Jason snorted, then fished his phone out from his pocket and scrolled a few times. Robin widened his eyes as Jason bunged the thing to his ear.
"Yeah, all right? You? Good, good. Can we come stay?" Jason chewed the inside of his cheek. "Right. Sure thing. No probs. Catch ya laters." He hung up. "Bollocks."
"Well?"
"Micky's on holiday. I mean the geezer lives next to a beach, why does he wanna go on sodding holiday!"
Robin shook his head. "I thought you called your mum."
"Yeah." Jason tucked his phone back in his pocket. "Fuck that."
"She doesn't know, does she?"
Jason ignored the question. There were a lot of things Carly Williams didn't know, and Jason was quite happy for her to never know.
"I think its about time she did." Robin threw on his jumper, grabbed his bag he hadn't unpacked and trundled down the stairs.
With a knot in his entire body, Jason limped after him.
****
A/N - so I got back to writing, after several months in editing hell, and this chapter just came first.
I decided to stick to the same way I had written Active Duty, by having flashbacks unravelling things that have happened - this time not on the barracks but on deployment.
I hope it works and you all come on board with it.
Thanks so much for reading :)