Nick's feet hurt, but he could make himself ignore them for a little while longer. He plastered a little smile onto his face when he opened the door to his house. "Hey," he said in a quiet voice. "What can I get you? We've got water, milk, and juice.” He ran a hand through his sweaty blond hair. "Oh—I do have some white wine, if you want that."

Tom lifted those eyebrows of his and nodded. "Yeah. That could be okay.” He chuckled and ducked his head. "I'm not usually a huge drinker, but maybe a glass of wine would make things seem a little less awkward."

Nick made a face. "I don't think there's enough wine in Virginia to make this less awkward. It's worth a shot, though. Have a seat.” He gestured to the old, rickety rocking chairs on the porch. "I'll be back in a second."

The house wasn't that big. It didn't take Nick long to get back into the house and get what they needed. After a second's thought, he filled an old ice bucket and brought the bottle out with him.

Tom was waiting for him. Nick almost expected him to have taken off. "Worried we'll wake Sammy?"

Nick nodded and sank into his own rocking chair. "I promised him he wouldn't have to see you until he was ready. It would be kind of the worst betrayal possible to go back on that by having you wake him up, don't you think? He's not exactly a morning person."

Tom poured. "He's his father's son.”

Nick could have lived without that reminder of what they'd shared, but he kept his mouth shut. He wanted to keep the peace right now. That wouldn't be served by getting upset. "So. What's on your mind?"

Tom slouched down in his seat. "I don't know. Stuff. Things.” He turned his head to face Nick, and the street light glinted off of his eyes. "I was just sitting there in my condo, you know? And it was like, everything just kind of came crashing in on me. I figured I'd start a family eventually, but I figured I'd wait until I wasn't a SEAL anymore. I didn't want to put a kid through what you went through, growing up without a dad. And look at us now."

Nick rolled his eyes. "Not a lot we can do about that now, is there?” He stuck his feet up on the porch railing. Some of the pain in them subsided. "I mean, I appreciate that. And you didn't know. I do believe you about that, you know? I do. I just—no one's invented some kind of time machine. We can't fix it.” He sipped his wine.

"No, no. I get that. I do. It's just...” Tom pursed his lips. "Sorry. I'm not very good at this word stuff."

"You were always better at math.” Nick let his eyes drift across the street. He didn't know his neighbors yet. He didn't know if he cared or not. If they were settled here now, like they were supposed to be, he should get to know them. He'd just gotten out of the habit, he guessed.

"Yeah. Yeah, I was.” Tom leaned his head back and rested it on top of the chair. "I guess I managed to say something right, because you said yes."

Nick forced himself to breathe normally. "I did.”

Tom must have picked up on the coldness in his tone, because he cleared his throat and continued. "Anyway. It hit me that I'm going to deploy. Maybe not tomorrow, or the next day, but someday. I mean I'm a SEAL, it's what we do. And what am I going to leave behind, you know? I have a kid, but I don't know him and he hates me. I know—not, really, my fault—and I've got a condo that looks like I'm squatting in it."

Nick scoffed. "Okay, now that—that is your fault. You get paid and stuff.” He waved a hand. "Buy furniture. It's a thing. They've got stores for it and everything."

"I've missed your sarcasm.” Tom grinned. His white teeth flashed in the glare of the street lamp. "I don't know. It just kind of overwhelmed me. I needed to not be in the house for a while."

"Okay. Fair enough.” Nick couldn't imagine why Tom had thought coming over here would be the right thing to do. He couldn't find it in himself to chase him off, though. Having adult company around that neither required a bed pan, nor carried one, was nice. "I've got to say, I never figured you for Navy. I figured Air Force."

"Meh.” Tom made a face. "When everything happened—when they ran me out of town on a goddamn rail—I was mad. I wanted to get my hands dirty, and I mean dirty. I was thinking Marines, but my dad dragged me down to the Navy recruiting station instead. He figured I'd be more likely to go somewhere with the whole engineering thing, you know?” He shook his head. "Not so much, as it turns out. They saw a different use for a guy like me.” He toyed with his glass. "Nursing isn't exactly where I saw you going, either."

Nick knew his laugh sounded bitter. "Yeah, no. I wouldn't have chosen it, but you know what? It's stable. It's freaking stable. If a hospital shuts down and I get laid off, I can go to another town and get another job. I've spent too much time in shelters, scraping for something to feed Sammy, to have that not appeal to me at this point."

Tom hung his head. "I'm so sorry."

Nick clenched his jaw. "I'm not saying that to lay on the guilt. It's not sparkle. I told you I believe you didn't know, so you've got nothing to feel guilty about. All I'm saying is that life has a funny way of changing things around for a man, you know? You start out and you're looking at studying English literature, maybe becoming a college professor. Something happens and then bam! You've got a whole different set of priorities.” He shrugged. "Nursing's not so bad. This week's kind of sucked, but I kind of think a mass casualty incident is supposed to suck."

"Yeah. You guys got a bunch of the victims from the bombing, didn't you?"

Nick covered his mouth. "Mal was right?"

Tom snorted into his wine. "He'd have figured it out in like half a second, wouldn't he? Yeah. I can't talk about it," he continued, in a quieter voice. "But yeah. It's not pretty."

"Neither were those patients.” Nick looked away. "I usually work on the patients who come in on their own or with relatives or whatever. Mal usually gets the real critical care cases, you know? The ones who come in by ambulance or helicopter. Yesterday we were all working on the critical cases. I've never seen anything like it."

"If I had my way you never would.” Tom looked down into his wine glass, and then he shrugged and poured himself some more. "It's different for him. He's not really a civilian. You, though. You shouldn't have to see stuff like that, and those kids at that college shouldn't have had to go through it either. But here we are.” He took a drink.

"You probably see stuff like that all the time.” Nick swirled his wine around. If he focused on the wine in the glass, he wouldn't have to think about the wounds he'd seen, or the people who'd succumbed to them.

"Doesn't make it better. You just get...I don't know. You learn to push it down better. That's all.” Tom met his eyes. "That's really all. And when it happens here, on US soil, you sometimes wonder if there's anything you can do about it at all. At least you can patch 'em up."

"Some of them, anyway.” Nick could barely get his voice above a whisper.

Tom moved his chair. "Here. Give me your feet."

For one terrible moment, Nick wondered if Tom expected him to detach his feet and pass them over. "What?"

"Turn your chair this way, and let me have your feet.” Tom gestured to his lap.

Nick narrowed his eyes, unsure of what his ex could possibly want. When Tom took Nick's left shoe off and started rubbing his foot, he almost jumped out of his skin.

It had been a very long time since anyone had touched him like that. He'd had occasional partners, but they hadn't been more than furtive rolls in the hay. None of them had taken the time or the care to rub life back into Nick's tired feet, just to make Nick feel better.

Tom worked the left foot first and then the right. By the time he was done, Nick was more or less a puddle of goo. He was also hard as a rock. He couldn't hide it, not right now. Not without doing something stupid like grabbing the ice bucket and putting it in his lap, which was looking more and more reasonable with each passing second.

Tom averted his eyes, but didn't take his hands away until he'd satisfied himself that he'd worked out every knot and every bit of pain in Nick's feet. "You deserve better."

Nick blushed. "It's been a long couple of days, but it's not like this is typical. We're not going to be doing this on the regular, you know? I usually work forty hours a week and no more.” He forced a grin and tried to think about something cold and unpleasant.

He'd spent enough time in the morgue over the past day or so, with enough mangled bodies, that he didn't have far to reach.

"Trust me," he said, as the gruesome images worked their magic. "They made it very clear at orientation, overtime is the real enemy here."

Tom snickered. He still wouldn't look directly at Nick, and Nick supposed he should be grateful. "Yeah, I can see where they'd want to keep an eye on that sort of thing.” He reached for his wine. "Feel better?"

"Much.” Nick ducked his head. He shouldn't have let himself get hard. He shouldn't have let Tom touch him in the first place. He should have known where that would lead, and it wouldn't be anywhere good. "Thank you."

Tom's cheeks pinked up. "I'm glad.” He looked down at his watch. "I'd better take off. It's going to be a big day at work tomorrow for both of us. I'd hate for either of us to get into trouble for being asleep on the job."

Just then, Nick didn't care. Nick would have tolerated getting written up if it meant more attention from the alpha he'd loved and lost. He knew that wasn't really him talking, though. It was just ten years worth of loneliness and Tom's magic hands. He didn't need that. He needed to think about the future, about Sammy. "Yeah," he said, struggling to his feet. "Thanks for coming by."

"No worries. I might come by again sometime, if it's okay with you.” Tom smiled quickly and bolted for his car.

Nick sat back down and poured himself another glass. Technically, Virginia discouraged drinking in public, but it was dark out and they hadn't exactly been partying hard. And he definitely needed to sit out in the fresh air and get control of himself before he tried to make himself go to bed.

It had been good to just sit out there and spend some time with Tom. Nick had been friendly with some of his co-workers over the years, but every job he'd had was temporary. He hadn't gotten attached. While he and Tom had been apart for over a decade, they'd known each other since they were little kids. It was good to have someone in his world who knew him back before a result on a pregnancy test had changed his world forever.

Of course, Tom wasn't exactly a "friend.” They hadn't formally split, and that whole situation would be fraught with misery and confusion if Nick thought about it too hard. He was just going to have to go with a separation of more than, say, five years constituting a breakup.

So why was Nick having such a hard time coping with Tom’s visit? He was still hard for crying out loud. He grabbed the ice bucket, now that there wasn't anyone to see, and settled it over the offending organ. He had no business wanting Tom anymore.

Maybe it was just because of the way they'd split. They hadn't actually "broken up.” They'd just gone their separate ways, without closure for either of them. If they'd agreed to split up, they could have both emotionally moved on.

Nick had to laugh at himself. The thought itself chased his unwelcome erection away. Who was he even kidding? Tom didn't want him anymore. They were both run out of Bow String in disgrace, but Tom had been run out and thrived. He was a SEAL, the most exalted of servicemen. He had a SEAL's body, with a SEAL's service record. He could have any guy he wanted. The fact that he left some guy pregnant and alone back in Nebraska wouldn't turn anyone away. On the contrary, it would just give him a certifiable Tragic Backstory, like a category on a checklist that men could tick when building their perfect alpha.

Alphas had futures. Omegas only had pasts. No alpha, and certainly no alpha with a future as bright as Tom's, would ever want a used omega with a fatherless ten-year-old kid in tow. Even, or maybe especially, if said alpha happened to be the father of said child. It was just a fact of life.

Nick had accepted that a long time ago. He couldn't blame Tom for the way things had turned out. He understood it wasn't Tom's fault now, but that didn't change the fact that pining away for Tom wasn't going to improve Nick's life in the slightest. Loving Tom once had only hurt him. Only fools let themselves get hurt twice by the same guy.

He headed back into the house. He made sure he took a long, cold shower to chase away the last vestiges of desire from his body. Twenty-eight seemed to be too young to give up so completely on finding love, but Nick had always been precocious. He had to be realistic and to keep his focus.

His bed wasn't that big. He wouldn't have been able to bring Tom up anyway, even if Tom had shown the slightest interest in him. His bed wouldn't fit two people. He hadn't been thinking about maybe hooking up with someone someday. He'd just been thinking of his small budget at the time. Now he was glad. He'd spared himself humiliation, and spared himself a truly foolish decision.

He slipped under the sheets and dreamed about what it might be like to be able to sleep next to someone after all.

***

Tom slept like a baby when he got back to his condo. He hadn't slept so well in months—long before Nick got back into his life. Maybe it was wrong to attribute his newfound restfulness to Nick's presence, but Tom couldn't ignore the fact that he fell right to sleep and slept all the way through the night after getting his hands onto Nick's bare skin, just once.

Lord, he was pathetic. He'd been all over the world, met and slept with all kinds of men, and here he was losing it over his high school sweetheart. Was it possible he still loved Nick, after everything?

He headed into work the next day and dug into his briefings and his training with a huge smile plastered across his face. Chief frowned at him and then he scowled at him. Finally, Chief pulled him aside. "Fitzpatrick!" he barked. "Do I need to send you down for drug testing?"

"What?” Tom blinked. The muscles in his cheeks, the ones that made him smile so broadly, finally relaxed. He rubbed at them, trying to soothe away the ache. "No!"

"Then what's with the permagrin? A SEAL can't afford to be high on wacky tabacky, Sailor. We need you sharp and we need you focused. It's not that I don't get that you boys need to take the edge off, Lord knows, but if you slip up, your buddies die. You want Kelly's boy to be left without a father? Is that what you want?"

Tom held up his hands. "No, Chief. I'm not high.” He frowned. "Am I that much of a miserable son of a bitch that a good mood makes you reach for the urinalysis kit?"

"Your face has been split like that since you got in this morning. You were even wearing it during Mandatory Sensitivity Training. No one smiles during Mandatory Sensitivity Training, Fitzpatrick. It's just weird.” Chief pulled a chair out with his foot and gestured. "Sit. Talk. What's going on?"

"Nothing, Chief.” Tom took the seat Chief indicated. He wasn't going to push back against his commander. "Seriously. Everything's fine."

"Tell that to Baudin's arm. You think I don't know what happened?” Chief took the seat beside him. "Come on, kid. For one thing, Kelly was pissed, and not at you. For another, dumbass should've known better than to take a swing at Mal. That's neither here nor there. Does that smile on your face have something to do with the guy running around with your kid?"

Tom couldn't get comfortable in his seat. The chairs weren't meant to encourage long periods of rest, but right now it felt like someone had covered the chair in spikes. "Look, Chief...”

Chief fixed him with a stare. There would be no getting out of this conversation.

Tom sighed. "I went over there yesterday to talk. Just to talk," he added. "I was antsy about deploying, and I couldn't just sit there and stare at the walls. So I went over there, and he didn't call the cops or anything. That's all."

Chief narrowed his eyes and curled his lip. "Fitzpatrick, you've never given half a crap about deploying. You're usually the first guy here and the last guy off the bus. Since when are you antsy about shipping out?"

"Since I found out I'm responsible for another life, Chief.” Tom sat up straighter. If he couldn't get out of the discussion, he might as well be honest. "I'm serious. You probably already know I've changed my paperwork and everything. I'm paying child support, and if something happens to me—"

Chief waved his hand. "I've got five kids, Fitzpatrick. I know the paperwork drill. No one gets a smile that big about signing a bunch of paper and having a pile of cash taken out of his paycheck every week, kid. What's really going on?” He frowned. "Are you harassing that kid? Because last I heard, you were supposed to be leaving the boy and the omega in question alone."

Tom held up his hands. "I still haven't spoken to Sammy. It's weird, you know? I want to. I want to get to know him more with each passing day. But I gave him an awful first impression of me, and he's resisting. If I force it, he's not going to be open-minded about having me in his life, like, ever. If I wait, he might eventually come around."

Chief scratched his head. "That's remarkably enlightened of you. Of course, I'm not sure how I feel about letting a ten-year-old be in charge, but it's not my family. Why's it got you floating around like some kind of hippie?"

Tom snickered. They both knew he was about as far from a hippie as a person could get. "I don't know. I was just—I was feeling overwhelmed last night, you know? So I called Nick and asked if I could come over because I just didn't want to be alone in the house, and he said okay. And we hung out, and it wasn't bad. It was kind of nice."

"And that's got you grinning like a fool."

"Apparently.” Tom's face burned. "I'm just not...I guess?"

"Did you sleep with him, Fitzpatrick?" Chief closed his eyes and leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No!” Tom pulled back. "No, no I didn't. Nick wouldn't even let me in the house. He was afraid of waking Sammy. But I did maybe rub his feet.” He looked down at the ground.

Chief's lip curled a little. "How do you 'maybe' rub a man's feet, Fitzpatrick? Get your shit together, would you? Was he okay with it?"

Tom grinned and rubbed at the back of his neck. "I'll say.” Then he sobered up. "I think it's been a while since anyone's taken care of him, you know? It had been a long, nasty couple of days at work. His feet hurt, and I just wanted to make them feel a little better. I wasn't trying to get his engine running or anything."

"But that's what happened.” Chief grimaced. "You've got to be careful with that kind of thing, kid. You don't mean anything by it, but you start to get hormones involved and all kinds of things can happen that you didn't intend. And he didn't intend. Try to keep your hands to yourself. You're not in high school anymore."

"Yes, Chief.”

"You're dismissed. Don't be surprised if DeWitt wants a drug test, too. He's been muttering about legal weed for days."

Tom headed out. He wasn't smiling anymore.

He checked his duffel bag when he got home. He usually brought the same pile of things with him, underwear and socks and uniforms and such. He wasn't the kind of guy who liked to travel with a lot of extraneous crap. Right now, though, his sack of stuff seemed oddly empty. He'd just gotten people into his life. His parents back in Nebraska were, technically, still in his life, but they weren't right there and in his face. They were perfectly willing to wait to hear from him until he got back from a deployment.

Speaking of which, he figured he should let them know he'd be shipping out soon. He picked up the phone and dialed. His dad picked up after a couple of rings, and Tom told him right away about the deployment. He usually did. He never knew if something would happen in the shop to draw Dad's attention.

Dad accepted the news stoically and wished him good luck. The conversation never did change, not once in the past ten years. His parents liked their routine and always had. Tom, typically, liked his routines too. They kept him on an even keel and let him know what to expect.

Today, though, Tom let himself change the conversation just a little bit. He had no idea why he pushed the subject. It wasn't something he usually did, but today he felt he had to do it. "So, you'll never believe what happened the other day."

Dad didn't suspect a thing. "I don't know. Someone showed up out of uniform?"

Tom huffed out a laugh. "No, not at all. That would never happen. I ran into an old friend. From Bow String, actually.” Tom gripped the phone a little tighter when he heard his father's sharp inhale. "Nick Kosloski, of all people. Remember him?"

"Kind of.” Dad snorted. "It's been a good long time, son. I can't be expected to remember all of your little friends from high school. Nick wasn't exactly memorable."

If Dad had given Tom just one reason to believe his parents hadn't known, Tom would have latched onto it like glue. That line, that one line, sent Tom's world crashing around his ears. Nick had spent almost every waking minute with Tom, even before puberty had changed their relationship forever. Hell, it had been Dad that had taught Nick to shave.

Tom couldn't let on that he knew anything, though. He had to stay steady. He didn't want to go into a deployment with some kind of fight hanging over his head. "I guess," he said, feigning nonchalance. If he'd tried to pull this off ten years ago he'd have crashed and burned, but his years as a SEAL helped him to lie like a pro. "Anyway, it's kind of weird to have someone from the old days around. It's like a whole different world, you know?"

"Well, I suppose it would be.” Dad yawned. "Boy's probably never seen the ocean. What do you think he's doing there? Do you think he's chased you all the way across the country? Why would he do that now, of all things? It's been more than ten years. Boy needs to give up the ghost. It's been a long time since high school. He should move on."

Tom punched the wall. "I don't think he had the first idea I was in the Navy, never mind here in Virginia. He's a nurse now. He's friends with a buddy's husband. Small world, huh?"

"I guess.” Tom could just about see Dad's face, puckered up with disapproval. "You just keep your distance. I'm sure it's nice to see someone from home, but that boy's no good. He never was any good, and neither was his father. You just stay away."

"I can't imagine we'd see much of one another. I don't exactly spend a lot of time hanging around the guys' houses, you know? We see enough of each other when we're at work or deployed. We don't need to go taking up space on each other's couches.” Tom made himself laugh. "It's good for Mal to have someone to hang out with, though. I think it's been rough for him since he came here. Anyway, I just wanted to give you the heads up. I don't know when we'll be heading out, but it's going to be soon."

"Is it anything to do with that explosion that went off over to the college?” Dad sipped from something. The slurping sounds made Tom cringe.

"I don't know. Couldn't say if it did.”

"Of course. I saw the footage on the news. Terrible stuff, that. It's amazing, the things people will do. Anyway, you be safe while you're out there."

"You too, Dad.” Tom smiled and hung up. Then he punched the wall a few more times.

Dad knew. Dad had known for years. That meant Mom knew, too. They'd left Nick out there alone, miserable and broke, and they'd done nothing. They'd hidden it from Tom, never letting him know he was a father.

They'd ignored their own grandson, let him grow up fatherless and impoverished.

He pulled back before he could hurt himself. He didn't want to break his hands before he could go out on deployment. He had a job to do, and he was going to do it.

Still, though. He couldn't fathom what would have made his parents deliberately ignore their own grandchild. He couldn't wrap his head around why they'd hide family from him.

He'd find out. Oh yes, he'd find out. He wouldn't find out before he figured out what he wanted and what Nick and Sammy wanted. When he'd been an eighteen year old kid being railroaded by a small town sheriff, choices were few and far between.

He was a man now, a man with friends and a whole bureaucracy at his back. He didn't need to just bow his head and meekly accept narrow minds and pissant pseudo-oligarchies anymore.

He made a point of reaching out to Nick the next night. He'd have done it anyway. He enjoyed spending time with him the other night, and would happily sit on his porch and rub his feet every night until it got too cold to sit on the porch, if he could put that look of bliss on Nick's face again.

Did that mean he was becoming a foot fetishist now?

He shook his head to clear it. Nick's feet weren't the point, although they were the only part of Nick he'd trust himself to touch. "You ever feel like a teenager again?" he asked Nick, as they sat in the dark on his front porch again.

"Mmm?” Nick's hazel eyes had narrowed to mere slits. "I'm not sure what you mean, exactly."

"Well, I mean we're sneaking around and hanging out on the front porch so we don't wake the light sleeper inside, who'd be very upset if we headed indoors. And I can't escape the feeling that my dad's going to sneak around the corner any second and try to drag me home by my hair.” Tom snickered and held his beer bottle loose between his fingers.

Nick laughed. "Yeah, I can see that. Except we're older. Smarter, I think.” He looked away down the street. "We're not doing anything for them to yell at us about, for one thing. Nothing that's going to get us into trouble, beyond the whole sitting around and talking thing."

"True.” Tom wouldn't mind doing more. Suddenly, Tom realized that he'd gladly kiss the daylights out of Nick, if he thought Nick would tolerate it. "Do you think they'd believe us, though?"

"Hell, no.” Nick grinned. "But then again, they never believed us then."

"We were doing stuff to get us into trouble then.” Nick raised his eyebrows questioningly at him. "Don't get me wrong. It was good, back then. And I love Sammy. I wouldn't give him up for anything. But we were absolutely doing stuff to get us into trouble." Tom chuckled. "Ah, youth."

"Right?” Nick gave a happy little sigh. "The days of being young enough not to know better."

"I don't know about that. We did love each other.” Tom made sure he met Nick's eyes.

"We did.” Nick didn't hesitate. "It was a good life, right up until the end there."

Tom's pulse raced, but he reached out and grabbed Nick's hand. It hadn't been this hard the first time they held hands, but there wasn't this much water under the bridge then.

Nick let him take the hand, and even let him squeeze it. For now, it was enough.