At lights out, Gale put his book on the nightstand, having not taken in a single word.
The room was filled with the quiet sounds of many men, breathing, snoring, shuffling. At least he was lucky tonight to not be awake at the same time as an attempted silent jerk off.
John had fallen asleep before most of the guys had even gone to wrap up their nighttime routines- simply stripping to his undershirt and flopping onto the cot with no regard to how it shook.
In the dark, Gale could barely see him, but there was a visible sliver of pale shoulder that reassured Gale of where he was. Curt had asked him to go out to Diss with him that night and John had declined, instead choosing to go to sleep as soon as the blackout blinds were pulled down, which was immediately concerning.
He hadn't drank heavily since that night where they ended up in the grass, after a week Gale would expect him to get right back to it, to disregard any damage it would do to him.
Having reminded himself of that night, an image superimposed itself into his eyelids without his consent- John gripping his thigh, moaning sweetly between stuttered breaths.
Gale hadn't kissed him. He remembered feeling various conflicting things, all he could do was lean into the things he wanted instead of what he should have done. John had smelled of whiskey, sweating and bucking beneath him only minutes after purposely riling him up. He hadn't kissed him because he was confused, angered, too horny for his own good.
It had been two weeks. Two weeks since that half arsed fight, since John riled him up so he would do something. Gale fell right into his trap and regretted it. Not only had he punched John, he had acted on thoughts he shouldn't be having.
Gale opened his eyes to dismiss the image of John, watching the real John's shoulder subtly moving with each breath. It only served to remind him of the letter.
John, upon finding a letter from Marge, had decided to steal it and apparently used it to jerk off. He had read those innocent words from Gale's girl and stroked himself, imagining them in their marriage bed. John had been so desperate for something to aid his imagination that he had stolen from Gale and unabashedly used that fact to taunt him.
Gale imagined John with the letter, sweating into that ugly sheepskin as he took himself in hand, stroking with the aid of pre-come and trying to keep quiet.
The thought aroused him, as much as he didn't want it to, but he had accepted he was fucked up already, it was another thing to add to the list. Perversion, an ungodly wrongness to him that didn't seem so life alteringly horrible when he had spilled in his pants on top of John.
Goddamn there was something wrong with John- with Gale. They had rutted like animals in the grass and enjoyed it- no man should come from that.
But then again, John didn't seem too bothered about what men should do.
~~~
"Did you see how far I hit that?" John said as he slung an arm over Gale's shoulder, grinning brightly.
"Went damn far." Gale said, keeping pace with John as he directed them back towards the domestic areas, having left the game early.
The boys had arranged a baseball game on the airfield, those who didn't want to play watching at the sidelines. Gale had suffered through Murph trying to explain the rules whilst the guys divided themselves into teams- one side in just their PT shirts and the other their in class B shirt. Some of them had just tied it in their belts instead of wearing it.
John had looked great out on the field, smiling as bright as the sun when he hit the ball too far for the other team to catch, the picture of masculinity as he ran to home base with all he had in him.
