“I’m jealous. You can get some guy to suck you off for nothing at some sleazy bar, can’t you? I gotta pretend I like some chick for more than her tits.”

Roman had to fight to keep his expression neutral. It was just banter, but the attitude wound him up. Not only was Cory a dick about women in general, but his comments had been turning increasingly homophobic since he’d made first officer. Being gay wasn’t all about easy fucking for everyone—Roman just happened to like no-strings-attached hookups, and that was that. If he could find a guy to say, “I do,” he’d always known that would change.

Meanwhile Cory acted like he didn’t want any of it. He had two girlfriends and didn’t love either of them. Hell, he didn’t even seem to like them.

Roman kept his comment to, “The grass is always greener.”

Cory took it the wrong way, of course. “You ever try this side of the fence? Just a munch?” he grinned.

Roman fought back the urge to punch him. It wouldn’t look good on his flight record. “I dated a girl in high school. A couple of my friends are bi, I wanted to make sure I wasn’t. I already knew, but just for science. Why, have you tried this side? Something you wanna tell me?”

The jab worked. Cory looked suddenly defensive and scowled at him. “I’m not gay, man. You know that.”

There was a knock on the door, and one of the flight attendants poked her head in. “Everything all right?”

Pre-flight checks. That would take his mind off wanting to verbally eviscerate the man sitting next to him. “Fine, thanks. Sorry. Where were we?” Roman said pointedly, and his copilot took the hint.

It was all routine to both of them by now, but airlines didn’t count on that. Pilots had checklists for a reason. One slip of the mind, the other guy not catching it, and tragedy could occur otherwise.

Checks and cross-checks complete, it was time to do his job. For a few minutes, even Cory’s unprofessionalism gave way to the responsibility placed in their hands.

Several thousand flight hours later, the same adrenaline coursed through him every time, only to be held in check by his training. It was time for takeoff.

* * *

Cruising altitude, post-takeoff checks complete, Cory seemed to have forgotten his earlier banter. At least Roman had been able to get a good morning’s sleep-in to deal with him after… well.

After last night.

“What are your plans in Hong Kong?”

It was due to be a long, boring flight over the Pacific today, and they were sharing the cockpit on the way back, so Roman figured he might as well try to get along with the guy. They had several hours together before the next shift of pilots came on-duty, after all. Neither of them would be landing—one of the other pilots had to, for status reasons.

“Nothing planned, really,” he said, trying to drag his mind away from the night with Oscar. “Why, you have anything?” As far as he knew, Cory didn’t have a girl in this port of call yet.

“We’ll probably be too tired to get up to anything fun,” Cory groused. “And we can’t on the last night, either. That’s really only one good night there, you know? Long-haul sucks.”

“I hate rules as much as the next guy, but hey,” Roman shrugged. “They are rules.” It was a less-than-subtle hint that he would report Cory for getting up to any bullshit. “There’s always tonic water.”

“Gross. I should have known you’d like tonic water.”

“Like is a strong word.” Roman half-smiled.

Normally he’d find a group of new friends for the night, get drunk if time allowed, or at least help them to, and find a hot guy to take home for the night.

This time, though, the urge wasn’t there. Last night had been pretty damn awesome.

“You’re looking like the cat who got the cream. Or someone’s cream, anyway,” Cory snickered.

I’m sure they stop the flight clock if you assault another officer. “Hey, man. If you’re jealous, I can show you the best spots when we get there.”

Cory laughed. “Gross. I’m not that desperate.”

“Mm.” Roman checked the flight instruments to give himself a minute to calm down before he saw red.

Not for the first time, he considered talking to someone about it. Telling HR, or one of the senior captains who could have a word in Cory’s ear. God, just venting to a friend about it—except he knew better than to think any coworkers were friends.

He’d earned the coveted long-haul route on a combination of talent and willingness to be away from home for long stretches. Among the younger crew, long-haul routes were the most popular; the older guys liked spending nights at home with their families. But, he reminded himself, he was new all over again here… this was hazing. If he went to anyone about it, it would only get worse.

So Roman gritted his teeth and changed the subject to Christmas plans, hoping the next couple hours until the next shift went quickly.

Or he was gonna get in real trouble.