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Chapter Text

It was late when he got back to base.
It was even later when he hit the outdoor showers, to wash off the stale sweat and dirt - souvenirs of a day spent out in the desert. Somalia was hot - scorching hot, and even the nights could be warm and clammy. Tonight was one of those nights, and Sullivan felt hot and sticky again by the time he reached his barrack tent.

'Yo, Bobby,' a voice called out quietly, careful not to disturb the men actually getting some shut eye. Rob hadn't been on aid rotation today, but instead of catching up on sleep he was up, waiting for Sullivan to get back, sprawled out in one of the crappy folding camping chairs scattered outside of the tent.

Sullivan broke out in a sweat that had nothing to do with the weather as his stomach dropped violently.

'Something happen, Rob?' His voice hoarse from a day spent in the arid desert.

'I'm fine dipshit,' he kicked the chair next to him, 'sit with me - need to tell you something.'

They'd installed a policy after Sullivan's awkward coming-out. Of course brokered by Mrs. Maitra, who was ten times more mature than both of them combined. It was called the no-bullshit-between-us-policy. They told each other their shit now: it was blunt and to the point, and it worked for them.

'What's up?'

Liam asked, sitting down.

Rob tossed him a bottle of water. 'Drink. You sound and look like shit.'

Liam did as told before saying: 'Why do I have a feeling I should actually be drinking vodka for whatever you have to say?'

Rob cracked a grin. 'Nah, it's okay, Liam. You remember how my satellite phone was acting up?'

He nodded: your communication crapping out in the middle of nowhere was every Marine's nightmare and Rob had been bitching about his faulty phone for days.

'Took advantage of my day on base to get it looked at. Some of the guys told me to go see this one communications specialist in particular. A genuine mister-fix-it. Young Corporal by the name of Cope.'

Cope.
Corporal Cope.
It took longer than it should for Liam to remember how to breath. 'Bullshit.'

It had to be bullshit.
Cope - wasn't a run of the mill kind of name, but it wasn't exotic either. There was bound to be at least one more Cope serving and there were thousands of marines in Mogadishu. There was no way in hell this Corporal Cope was his recruit Cope.

Cope had gotten a front row seat to the absolute clusterfuck of a man Sergeant Liam Bobby Sullivan had become - there was no way he was still serving.

'Yeah, that's what I thought,' Rob drawled. 'But you know me - had to check for myself.'

There was a beat of silence. Liam cleared his throat. 'And?'

Rob grinned. 'Your boy's nice for a Marine. Quirky though.'

'Not my boy, Rob,' Liam said sinking down into his chair, jaw set so tightly he was afraid he was going to break his teeth.

Two years had gone by. Two years of fixing himself, forgiving himself - two years of surviving without a bottle of booze to pull him through and now Cameron Cope was in fucking Somalia. In the same fucking camp as him.

'He saved your ass, Bobby. And you haven't stopped talking about him since.'

Liam let out a sigh. 'It wasn't like that, Rob. You know it wasn't.'

'I wouldn't know what it was like because you were too busy being a martyr to tell your brother shit,' Rob stated. 'What I do know is that it's been two damn years and you still talk about him at least once a week.'

'Because I don't understand why,' Liam snapped. 'I fucked with that kid's head, Rob. I made his life even harder than it had to be! I tried to fucking destroy him. And what did he do when I was about to nuke my life? He stepped up for me - he lied for me-,'

'He did what I should have done,' Rob said quietly, taking a drink from his own bottle of water, his face stormy. He'd been angry when Liam had finally told him the truth. But not for the reason Liam had expected...

Rob had been angry that Liam hadn't told him, that he hadn't trusted him, that he hadn't thought Rob cared enough to stick around. They'd thrown hands over it. And Liam had cried when he'd realised why exactly Rob had been so spitting mad.

'I didn't want to put that on you, Robby,' Liam said knocking their knees together. 'I told you.'

Rob cleared his throat. 'I'm glad he helped you.' The "I don't want to lose you" went unspoken, but heard. Rob was his family, and he knew he was his too. 'Even if helping you meant telling everyone about your brain damage,' he added with a grin.

Liam threw his bottle at him. Rob caught it laughing.

'Asshole,' Liam mumbled with a small grin.

'You should go see him.'

'What I should do is leave the kid alone.'

'He's not a kid - he's a marine. If he wants you to fuck off, he'll tell you.'

Liam let out an amused huff, running a hand over his face. 'He's too polite for that.'

'Didn't he once throw a bucket of piss on someone? If he wants you gone, Liam. I'm sure he'll fucking tell you.'

'I outrank him.'

'Yeah, and he out-dirts you. Cope could ruin your life if he wanted to, but here's the thing: I think he'd rather put a bullet through his head than hurt you and that's exactly what you need man,' Rob said with a pointed look. 'Now get your damn shit together and go talk to him. I'm not saying it has to be like...romantic and shit. I just think it will be good for you. Your brooding martyr shit is getting old.'

Liam took a deep breath. 'NCIS asked him if I was fucking him - point blank,' he closed his eyes, the humiliation still fresh even after two years. 'I can only imagine how fucked up that must've been. Kid was a virgin, hadn't been passed second base with a girl and there he was getting questioned wether or not I bent him over my office desk.'

'You were cleared,' Rob reminded him. 'Cope and that friend of his really sold the fact there wasn't anything between the two of you. And they couldn't prove jack shit about you and the Major.'

'They sold it because there really was nothing going on,' Liam said leaning back and glaring at the night's sky.

'You're soft on him Bobby, it's okay to be soft sometimes. Isn't that what you said at my wedding? Go visit Cope. If not for yourself than do it to clear the air or some shit. Go thank him or apologise, I don't know. Just - I think you need to do this.'

'What I need to do is sleep,' Liam said shoving himself back onto his tired legs. 'And so do you, let's go.'

Rob groaned as he got up, limbs stiff. 'Just so you know: I'm not going to let this go, Bobby.'

'Wasn't counting on it, Robby.'

Chapter Text

It took him two days.
Two days of Rob giving him shit, to scrap his own shit together. Two days of beating himself up over the past, to accept how the kid who'd saved his career - saved his life probably - was back in his orbit.

Only he wasn't a kid. Not really. They'd sent him to Kuweit, they'd sent him to Somalia. Cope was a genuine Marine now: Corporal Cope.
It was an honest to god mindfuck, and it hadn't brought out the best in him; he'd reverted back into the pack-a-day, moody asshole he'd been during the inquest into his sexuality. And he almost laughed out loud like a lunatic when he'd realised that in his head Cameron Cope had somehow become just as terrifying as the fucking NCIS. Rob however had given exactly zero fucks about his worrying. Liam had accepted the man loved him in a way his flesh and blood family had never quite managed, but he'd also accepted that Rob was never going to treat him delicately.

So on the third day, after spending two grueling days together up north on an aid drop, Rob had dropped a radio into his lap as soon as they'd gotten back to base camp and had told him to: "move your fucking ass and fix it".

He was actually pretty sure Rob had fucked with the radio on purpose, since everything had been working fine during the mission. He also wouldn't exactly put it past the pushy motherfucker to have somehow gotten his hands on Cope's rota.

Robert Mitra was as subtle as a brick to the face. And as patient as angry hornet.

So, Liam had gotten some sleep, taken a much needed shower and then dragged his feet all the way to where Rob had been pushing him towards with all the grace of a bird kicking its young from the nest.

The field tent the communications crew had claimed was buzzing with activity. All communications crew currently in camp were working on repairs and doing preventative maintenance to keep comms up and running. Somalia was a swelteringly hot dustbowl - and it fucked up equipment almost faster than they could fix it. Keeping everything up and running was a full-time job.

Out of the buzz, in the back corner of the tent, was Cope, stood at a desk, cleaning a communication satellite.

Liam felt like he'd swallowed cotton.

He almost hadn't recognised him at first glance.
His hair was no longer in a buzzcut and Cope had filled out some more; he was never going to be a big man, but he'd lost his lanky, boyish built in favour of something wiry but strong. It had given him an air of confidence, and he stood straighter now, like a man comfortable in his own skin. Like a Marine.

Liam balled his hands at his side to stop them from shaking, as he marched over to Cope.

'Corporal Cope,' he greeted, and it was years of training that made his voice sound as loud and sure as it did.

Cope looked up: blue eyes wide with surprise. 'Sir?' He blurted out, gaping at him like a fish, all Navy propriety forgotten.

Liam tried for a smile - but it felt more like a grimace. 'It's been a while.'

'You're here,' Cope said simply, before frowning and saying, as if to himself: 'Or is it heatstroke?'

Liam cleared his throat. 'I'm here.'

'You're here,' Cope repeated quietly. 'Wow.'

This time he just nodded once, wordlessly - patiently waiting for Cope's judgement of him.

'I thought...I mean, well -, they never told me what happened to you,' Cope spluttered. 'I didn't know if-, I always wondered if you were okay.'

It was the look in Cope's eyes that made Liam swallow around the lump that had settled in his throat. It was that same earnest look he'd worn all through bootcamp: kind and guileless.

'You held the door open for me,' Liam answered and he wished he didn't sound so damn stiff; that he could actually manage a thank you, an apology, something. God knows Cope deserved it all. 'So, they cleared me.'

'And you're...' Cope faltered, biting his lip, 'okay?'

'Yes, Corporal,' Sullivan said quietly, the iron in his spine melting away into something more relaxed, 'I'm...okay. Are you?'

Cope smiled brighter than he'd ever seen him smile. 'Summercamp in Somalia,' he said, his tone chipper 'What's not to like?'

Sullivan couldn't help but grin back. 'I heard you're running the AV club - boys call you mister-fix-it, any chance you can take a look at this radio?'

'Of course, Sir.' He plucked the radio out of Sullivan's hand. 'I'll get right to it.'

'Staff Sergeant - or just Chief will do Cope.'

'I know...it's just...blast from the past.' Cope said with a wave of his hand before sitting down at his desk. 'You can have a seat if you want, Staff Sergeant. If I can fix it, it shouldn't take long and if I can't I'll set you up with a new one. Easy peasy.'

Sullivan bypassed a chair, more comfortable perching on the desk, arms crossed, watching Cope take apart the radio with an ease that Liam never would have expected from him - confidence suited him well.

'So, the scribe is now a communications specialist.'

'I think the term specialist is a bit of a stretch,' Cope said with a crooked grin. 'But yeah kudos to my mom: hands-off parenting breeds self-sufficient kids who are good at taking care of things, who knew?'

'They don't call you mister-fix-it for nothing.'

'They honestly think too highly of me. I-,'

'You've been fixing stuff - people, since bootcamp, Cope. Take the damn credit,' Liam stated and Cope's eyes flickered up, big and earnest. He didn't say a word though, he just looked and Liam couldn't help but look right back. 'You and I both know the reason I'm okay is mostly down to you, Cope,' he added, his voice quiet, but he never looked away - and Cope didn't either.

'I didn't do anything,' Cope said with a shrug.

'Funny. Because I don't remember falling and hitting my head.'

Cope turned beet red and finally looked away. 'Oh...that.'

'That,' Liam repeated with a nod.

That being the insane story Cope had spun about Liam hitting his head hard sometime before the Crucible. He'd lied to Fajardo - and the fucking NCIS - about how Liam had been acting off ever since the entirely ficticious fall.
McAffey had played along of course, and both McKinnon and Howitt had confirmed that Liam had started acting even more off his rocker around that time. After that, everyone had been more than happy to write off everything he'd done at Parris Island as the result of a head injury - especially after the inquest into him had been closed.

'I didn't want you to end up in prison,' Cope said quietly as he tinkered with the radio.

Liam let out a soft huff, what he'd expected all along was true: Cameron Cope was just a better person than most.

'I appreciate that, Cope. But did you have to say I fell out of a dumpster like a dumbass though?' He grinned as he said it, enjoying how sheepish Cope looked.

'I figured tying it to me doing something I actually got in trouble for, would make it more credible,' Cope explained. 'So, falling out of a dumpster it was.'

'Well it worked - so, you were on to something.'

Cope gave him a small smile before turning his eyes back to the radio, gnawing at his lip as he tinkered with it. 'You probably already know but, NCIS asked me if we were sleeping together,' he said quietly.

'Yeah I know, and I'm sorry you had to deal with that because of me,' Liam said staring at Cope and watching the way his cheeks flushed a blotchy red.

'It wasn't your fault. You were trying to help me and I'm...well me,' Cope said glancing up at him. 'One look at me and they just sort of...assumed, I guess. And I'm pretty sure my shocked pearl-clutching after they asked, didn't help either.'

'You convinced them though.'

Cope snorted. 'I think talking to me convinced them both of us were gay. Ray was the one who convinced them we weren't doing...that.'

'McAffey?'

Cope nodded. 'When they questioned him, he told them the only thing you ever did was yell at me. Like you know - a Drill Sergeant does. Which wasn't a lie honestly,' he said sounding vaguely amused. 'Then he threw in some things about me from back home and some anecdotes about my mom. And after all of that even the NCIS didn't even seem to think I was gay any more. Just another kid whose parents had - a lot - to answer for.'

Liam's eyebrows shot up: the NCIS was rigid and very much of the guilty until proven innocent opinion when investigating possible homosexuality. Exactly how fucked up was Cope's family life to convince them to leave him alone?

'Shit Cope, what did your mom do?'

Cope huffed a laugh - and it was only because Liam was a master at it himself that he recognised it for what it was: deflection. 'She didn't beat me or starve me, if that's what your asking. Let's just say she's a character. But it got NCIS to back off, so...'

Liam looked at his hands gripping the corner of the desk so hard they might leave a dent. He was angry. So angry he was just inches away from seeing red. He was angry at Cope's mom and the NCIS for fucking with him, sure. But he was absolutely furious with himself for that very same offence. 'I should've stayed away from you,' he finally said. 'Kept them off your trail instead of putting them on it.'

'That bullshit,' Cope blurted out before lamely adding: 'Staff Sergeant.' And as he stared up at Liam, his brow was pinched with outrage. 'You just wanted to help - you did help You made me a Marine - I don't think anyone else could have done that and besides...people already thought I was "faggy" before you ever came around.'

'Don't call yourself that,' Liam said sharply.

'It doesn't bother me anymore.'

'No, but it does me,' Liam spat. 'You're a US Marine, Cope. No one has any fucking right to call you anything but that.'

'We're US Marines, Staff Sergeant, why should we care about what some asshole says about me?' Cope questioned with a small smile. 'You taught me to take care of myself - I'll still never be the biggest guy in the room, but I can take care of myself. You don't need to worry - not about me.'

After that, Liam was struck dumb with the stray thought that he was always going to worry about Recruit Cope. And probably because he'd been so preoccupied with that sudden revelation, he hadn't noticed the burly figure that had creeped up behind him.

'Yo Cope!' A voice said loudly, tone warm and accent vaguely familiar.

Liam turned his head only to see a broad, dark-haired man staring at him with obvious bewilderment.

It was the Polak.
Slovacek.

'Sergeant Sullivan,' Slovacek saluted, all drilled-in discipline and muscle memory, because the look on his face clearly stated exactly what Slovacek thought of him.

'Lance Corporal Slovacek,' Liam said returning the greeting, somewhat surprised the hothead had actually made it to that rank without pissing off the wrong person.

'It's chow time, Slim Jim,' Slovacek stated, his attention firmly back on Cope now that he'd given the absolute minimum measure of politeness required of him.

'You go on,' Cope replied with a wave and a smile, 'I'm just going to finish this real quick. I'll catch up '

Liam had thought Slovacek hated Cope - and considering the latter had thrown a bucket of piss over him, he'd been sure the feeling was mutual. But then again, bootcamp had a habit of creating unlikely friendship.

Slovacek scowled. 'Don't you dare fucking forget to eat Cope - turn back into a fucking string bean and you make all of us fucking look bad.'

'Yes, mother,' Cope replied in a sing-song voice that made the other man scowl.

'If you're still here by the time I get back, I'm dumping you in the latrines,' Slovacek said emphasising each word with a jab of his finger.

Cope shot Slovacek an exasperated look. 'Go eat you hangry bear! And try not to terrorise the villagers while you're at it!'

The corners of Slovacek's mouth twisted up as he gave them a lazy solute.

'I thought you hated each other,' Liam said once Slovacek was out earshot, oddly intrigued by just how chummy they'd gotten.

'I thought you hated me too,' Cope said with a shrug before he blew into the radio, causing Liam's gaze to drop down for just a second. 'You know how when you feed a stray cat it's all feral at first, but then when it warms up to you it gets kind of friendly? That's basically Slovacek - he's friendly - just keep him well-fed and don't make any sudden movements.'

Liam chuckled. 'Yeah, I can see that.'

Then Cope set his screwdriver down rather dramatically. 'Staff Sergeant, can I ask you something?'

Liam simply nodded.

'What on earth happened to this radio?'

Chapter Text

Growing up with a mother like Barbara Cope meant he was used to weird things happening left and right; Running into a naked man on a midnight stumble to the bathroom? Check. Being used as a guinea-pig for a new lipstick line? Check. Being brought up with the wrong birthday? Check. Now add some Marine training to a Patended-Barbara-Cope upbringing and "weird" just didn't register half as much as it did for ordinary people.

But today was weird...even by Cameron's standards.

First Sergeant Sullivan - or well, Staff Sergeant Sullivan - had appeared out of nowhere, looking like some Out-magazine-mirage.
Still insanely intense of course...but also, softer somehow? Sure there was probably still an unhealthy amount of rage simmering just beneath the surface. But Sullivan had smiled, he had honest to God laughed - with him, not at him - and Cameron honestly didn't know what to do with how attractive that had been...

And while Cam was still reeling from that meeting, Slovacek had apparently decided that their two-year friendship was just a figment of Cam's overactive imagination. So now, instead of listening to Slovacek's swaggering and wisecracking - Cam was being full-on glared at from across the table in the middle of the mess while Slovacek shovelled down his food.

It was weird.
It was weird enough to be classified as disconcerting.

Angsting over Sullivan. Pooping your pants because of Slovacek. Did Doc Brown shove you into a DeLorean? Because we're definitely in 1990 again, Toto!

Oh, good God, no.

Cam set down his fork with a sigh, pushed his mess tray to the side, and clasped his hands on the table in front of him. 'Spit it out,' he said, giving Slovacek a prompting look that was met with nothing more than a grunt. Okay, time to break out the big guns. 'What's up with you? Are you on your period?'

Slovacek shot him a baleful look that had long lost its power of intimidation.

He can still beat you up you know.

Yes, but I'm faster. So he'll have to catch me first.

'Tell me what's wrong, Nicholas.'

Slovacek's nostrils flared at the mention of his first name, like an enraged bull and he slammed his cutlery onto the table, attracting more than a few looks that quickly lost interest when they spotted him. Everyone who knew Slovacek, or knew of him, was familiar with his outbursts and knew they rarely amounted to anything anymore.

'Why didn't you tell me he was here giving you a hard time?' He snapped: eyes narrowed, mouth pulled into a snarl.

Cam just blinked at him: 'What?'

'Sullivan dipshit! He always had it out for you,' he said before dropping his tone to a fervent whisper only Cam could hear. 'He knows about you - and now he's here giving you shit about it, isn't he? Fucking shit Cope - you should have fucking told me goddammit.'

Cam continued to just blink at him - owlishly. Despite his reputation as a bruiser, Slovacek wasn't stupid. Far from it really. He'd clocked Cam for what he was straight away. And Cam had honestly always figured he'd put two and two together about Sullivan too, especially afterthe inquest...

So, we're really going to pretend we're as butch as Sullivan? Did you forget we made Boy George look butch when we arrived at boot camp?

'It's not like that.'

'Guy is a fucking nutjob, Cope! You can't handle that shit on your own! You-,'

'He isn't giving me shit about...that,' Cam said quickly, emphasising that with an eyebrow raise and a nod.

Slovacek gave him a look that would have curdled milk.

'I'm not lying. Yes, he was hard on me, but it wasn't because he hated me, okay?' Cam said his voice low; just because this was Somalia and no one was actively paying attention to him didn't mean he could afford to be anything but careful.

'The fucker gave you up to NCIS just to get them off his own back when he beat that guy's face in. Semper Fidelis my fucking ass, fucking coward,' and he irritatedly shoved his tray to the side.

Oh.
Ohhh. He'd known the NCIS had questioned Slovacek. He'd known Slovacek had kept mum on what Cope was. But he'd always just assumed NCIS had at least named Sullivan when they'd questioned Slovacek.

'That inquest - it wasn't into me,' he blurted out and Slovacek shot him a sharp look.

'What?'

'Think.'

Slovacek frowned as he sat back, arms crossed and Cam could pinpoint the moment realisation hit him. 'Motherfucker,' he spat venomously, 'did he make a move on you? Pressure you or some shit?'

Cam let out a bark of laughter that earned him another sharp look. 'Sorry,' he said sheepishly, 'it's just no - he he's all...and I'm just,' he waved a hand at himself. 'It wasn't like that. It's fine really. You don't need to worry about me. I uhm...appreciate it though.'

You "appreciate" it? Guy was willing to throw hands for you! Can we take him home and introduce him to our bullies? I mean can you imagine what it would've been like, growing up with him having our back? It wouldn't have been our head down the toilet that's for sure.

No, I'm actually pretty sure he still would've been the one shoving our head down the toilet.

'So basically him treating you like a little bitch was - what? Him pulling some mister Miyagi shit?'

Cam shrugged. 'Kind of.'

'Well shit,' Slovacek said eyes wide with surprise. 'Guy's even weirder than I fucking thought.'

'Probably less weird actually,' Cam pointed out. 'He was under a lot of stress when he was our DI. Remember all the stupid stuff we did at boot camp because we were under stress?' And Cam knew Slovack was vividly remembering the piss, the duck, the food fight, all of it. 'High stress situations, they mess with your head.'

Cam could tell from the tension in Slovacek's jaw and the glint in his eye that he understood. To be fair, Slovacek was likely the only one who would ever truly understand the situation, having faced the threat of being sent upstate hanging over him like Damocles' sword throughout boot camp.

'But today,' Slovacek said after a little while, 'what did he want?'

'A new radio,' Cam said with a small grin. 'And to make amends, I think. I might've helped him shake off some charges by bending the truth.'

'So that shit about him hitting his head.. ?'

'Fictional.'

'Shit, Cope. Sullivan beat that guy into a coma.'

Cam shot him a pointed look.

'That was totally different,' Slovacek said defensively, jabbing his finger at Cam with each word. 'He was a fucking US Marine, Cope. Not some stupid kid who thought he was some big fucking gangster.'

It was honestly impressive just how much Slovacek had changed without actually changing.

'What he did was bad - I get that, but you didn't see the report! Guy was a nightmare - he was bound to pick a fight with the wrong guy eventually.'

'Didn't mean he had to beat him in a coma.'

Cam gnawed at his lip. 'Remember my fight with, Jones?'

Slovacek's eyebrows rose, but he nodded, a barely noticeable dip of his head.

Cam looked down at his still clasped hands and if he squinted just right, he imagined he could still see Jones' blood staining his bruised knuckles. 'If they hadn't pulled me off him...I don't think I would have stopped either.'

Which, technically speaking, was Sullivan's fault.

And Slovacek doesn't need to know that right now.

Slovacek let out a loud sigh, before slouching down in his chair, arms crossed but his face less stormy. 'We're all a little fucked up, Cope. Doesn't make us bad people.'

Cam cocked a smile. 'Thanks, Nicky.'

He barely dodged the fork Slovacek chucked his way.