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“Six months,” Gavin reminds him, but the tremble in his voice gives away what they’re both thinking. He can’t promise to come back.
Under his shirt, Niles feels Gavin’s first set of dog tags – the one he claimed to have lost to cover for the fact he’d given them to his partner. Every time Gavin leaves, they become all Niles has to keep him grounded.
“Six months,” he echoes. He can’t ask Gavin to promise to come back. A knot forms in his throat as he tries to find more words to say, but nothing fits the weight of this moment. Gray eyes mirror each other for a long minute before Gavin speaks again.
“This is the last time.” He sounds hopeful, like that knowledge will ease their time apart. Niles thinks it will only make both of them more anxious about the possibility of a tragedy.
Niles nods. His mouth is dry. It’s the fourth time Gavin is deployed overseas since their relationship began and it only seems to get harder with time.
“Babe.” Gavin leans forward on the tip of his toes, pressing his lips to the corner of Niles’s mouth. “I’m gonna fucking miss you.”
The comment cracks through Niles’s anxiety enough to allow a smile, however brief and minuscule. He grabs the sides of Gavin’s uniform and pulls him close, kissing him properly.
They don’t have nearly enough time. Before he’s ready to let go, Gavin is pulling away and walking out the door, bag slung over his shoulder. It’s as if all warmth drains from Niles’s body as he thinks this is it – this is the time he’ll lose Gavin for good.
All he can do is move forward until they have a window to communicate. Niles keeps his routine: he runs in the morning, goes to work, focuses all of himself into the sessions with his clients. When he has a free evening, he trains with Tina at the dojo and they share their worries about Gavin’s continued service. He sees Connor every Sunday without fail.
Every little message he gets from Gavin feels like a breath of fresh air. He counts the days between their calls, treasures every text message and picture, sends enough of his own to reassure his partner that he’s alright, he’s coping with the distance and waiting for him with open arms.
“Five months,” Gavin says over the phone, a few days after completing one month overseas.
Niles starts falling asleep with his fist closed around the dog tags that hang from his neck. He uses Gavin’s side of the bed more often than not, although he would never admit that to his partner or any other soul.
By the second month, Gavin’s shirts have lost his scent. Niles still wears them around the house, but he withdraws further into himself. Something about knowing this is supposed to be Gavin’s last deployment makes everything worse. They’re so close to the end, to the freedom of being openly together without fear, Niles can’t help but think it’s too good to be true.
“Three months.” That’s the first thing out of Niles’s mouth when they get the chance to speak over a video call halfway through Gavin’s time overseas. He watches as his partner’s face breaks out into a crooked grin and he seems to reach for the screen, as if trying to touch Niles. Neither of them has the strength to shed tears.
Four and a half months into his deployment, Gavin is injured in combat. Niles gets word from officer Miller that a bullet lodged itself in his shoulder and, because they had been separated from their medics, the wound was untreated long enough to become infected. As soon as the opportunity arose, Gavin was evacuated from the battlefield into the nearest hospital for treatment.
It’s another week before Niles receives any direct contact from Gavin. He doubles the distance of his runs, pushes his body and mind towards exhaustion just to stop worrying. He almost misses the call.
“I’m okay,” Gavin’s tired voice promises. “Another week in the hospital and I’m good to go.”
Good to go back into the thick of it, Niles thinks. He doesn’t voice that concern, has no reason to put the burden of his thoughts on his partner’s shoulders.
“Come home,” he says instead, regretting the way his voice cracks. There’s a long sigh from the other end of the line.
“Just over one month.” A pause where Niles can almost hear Gavin’s brain working. There’s a soft, unintelligible sound, and he realizes what’s about to happen before the words even come out.
“You don’t-“
“Shut the fuck up, Niles,” Gavin laughs, but it’s a nervous sound, as if he knows this is likely to doom them. Then, without any further hesitancy, he says those words for the first time. “I love you.”
Niles nods, closes his eyes, holds the phone tight enough that his knuckles turn white. “I love you, too. Don’t you dare die on me.”
“Doing my best, babe.”
That night, wrapped up in their blankets, Niles reminds himself that he does not believe in superstition or the concept of jinxing. One month and a half.
Five months. That’s the news he gets only two weeks later, not long after Gavin returns to active duty. His deployment has been prolonged to a total of ten months and there’s nothing either of them can do about it. Niles is calm and understanding as his partner delivers the news, but his fist flies into the bathroom mirror not thirty minutes after the call.
He cancels his appointments, picks the pieces of glass from his hand, orders a replacement mirror. He doesn’t cry.
By the seventh month, Niles no longer remembers what it feels like to hold Gavin. He knows it feels good, it feels like coming home, but he doesn’t remember. He spends more time out with North, smokes his first cigarette in eight years, even sets the shower temperature to warm.
“One month,” Gavin says, twenty-six days before he’s set to return. “One month and I’m all yours.”
“We don’t know that.” Niles wants to believe him. He’s not sure he can.
“We do. I’m coming home, Ni, don’t give up on me. Don’t fucking give up on me.” It’s a plea, something he never expects to come from Gavin, but it’s where they end up every time.
“Never, Gavin. I’m waiting.”
There’s a flight delay, but twenty-eight days after that call Niles finds himself standing in the Detroit Metropolitan Wayne County Airport, playing with his car keys as he waits for the next flight in from Afghanistan. Time seems to drag by slowly, one minute feels like five, and then he sees a tan man in camouflage walking towards him and everything speeds up at once.
Niles reminds himself to hold back, to wait until they’re home to touch his partner, to respect his boundaries concerning demonstrating affection in public. Instead of initiating contact, he smiles and reaches for Gavin’s bag, only to stop once he hears a choked-up fuck come from the other man’s throat.
It takes a second for him to realize that Gavin has dropped his bag and thrown himself forward, arms wrapped tight around Niles with one hand cradling his head. A shock of warmth and love and relief flows through both of them and Niles returns the embrace with equal force.
“Sorry I’m late,” Gavin breaks the silence, face pressed into the side of Niles’s neck as they breathe each other in. “I love you. I love you.” It’s the first time he says those words in person, and they come packed with all the emotions that have been bottled up for the past ten months.
“Never leave again.”
“I won’t.”
“Marry me,” Niles says, unthinking. If he stops to think about it, he’ll realize he means it.
“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Gavin laughs, pulls back enough for them to look at each other, and then draws Niles into a kiss in the middle of the packed airport.