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Travelling the Mojave was challenging for anyone. Even the hardened soldiers of the New California Republic had to stop their troops once in a while and set up camp between destenations - afterall, losing men was not at all beneficial to any army and no amount preperation for long, tedious marches across the desert could make one immune to heat stroke.
As evening approached the NCRs temporary campgrounds, two young men adorned with the noble rank of First Recon found themselves perched a'top a nearby hill, one of them cautiously scanning the surrounding area through the scope of his sniper rifle, the other seeming to simply keep him company.
In reality, they worked in shifts. The two would switch every once in a while, as staring at desert plains for prolonged periods could mess with even the most vigilant of soldiers.
Though Boone had been instisting to keep watch for longer than his usual turn, perhaps in response to his companion complaining of dry eyes the last time they exchanged positions.
Despite the excuse of "just making sure the job is done right" elicited by endless teasing, Manny was well aware that this was his friends way of caring for him, without dropping the act of being a serious and gruff army-man. Affection was never something outwardly expressed in the military - it was nearly a taboo subject, reserved for hushed whispers and late night trips to barrack toilets. Manny knew on the other hand, that the way his dear friend showed care was not only the result of time spent on duty, as it was already a challenge to get the man to show his heart when they'd met. However after all the time they'd spent together he had gotten pretty good at recognising signals that Boone would let slip through his facade. It wasn't often he allowed some emotion to shine through, especially with the pressure of being not only one of the youngest members of NCR forces, but also a part of First Recon.
Vargas admired his companions posture in the face of such expectations, the way he'd stay laser-focused on tasks, no matter how mundane they seemed, how he'd aim with extraordinary precision, not letting the weapons recoil mess with his shots' trajectory, how the glaring sun would reflect in his glassy eyes once they'd peek out from behind the lenses of his glasses, the way he couldn't contain a slight upturn tugging at the corners of his mouth once Vargas made a perticularly stupid joke...
'Maybe I'm getting a bit carried away' Manny thought to himself. There was a lot to admire about the man beside him though - very few people would disagree.
It was getting fairly late now, and despite the sky growing darker, the temperature was dropping at an agonisingly slow pace. Finally, once the sun subsided, disappearing behind faraway mountains, the air became increasingly colder, even though the ground still kept it's warmth. The wasteland became strangely calm in the nighttime - not many people bothered to roam the Mojave in these conditions, with rare exceptions. Right now, the desert seemed empty as ever and so, Manny pulled a small flask out of the inside pocket of his vest. The man unscrewed the container and took a small swig, wincing at the unpleasant taste, but enjoing the warmth of alcohol sliding down his throat. His partner didn't react, and if the spotter didn't know any better he'd be quick to assume that the other man had zoned out, but it was quite the opposite. He gently shoved the snipers arm to drag his focus away from the task at hand. No response. He shoved him again, this time a bit harder - that got his attention. Manny offered him the bottle, swishing the liquid inside.
"We're on duty y'know? Just because the sun set doesn't mean we're allowed to slack off." Boone said, avoiding his friends gaze, clearly tempted.
"It's not like we're the only ones keeping watch..." Vargas argued, inching the flask closer.
They spent almost a minute keeping intense eye contact, in a staring contest-like fashion before Boone let out a scoff and gave in. He grabbed onto the canteen, his hand briefly brushing Mannys, and proceeded to gulp down a good portion of the whiskey.
"Hey, leave some for me, big guy!" The older of the two joked. His friend shot him a challenging look, then took another large sip of the liquid before handing it back.
"You're a lightweight anyways, you don't need this much, unless you want me to have to carry you back to camp again." The younger man teased. Vargas blushed, just like any other time said incident was brought up.
After one of their first times fighting as part of the NCR army, they followed in the footsteps of their elders, ending up celebrating at one of the saloons stationed near their temporary residence. Manny, with encouragement from his new brothers-in-arms, overestimated his abilities and found himself barely standing up by the end of the night. At that point his memories get blurry, but his peers made sure he could never forget - apparently, not only was he brought to bed by his closest friend, but he'd been carried bridal style, like a damsel in distress being rescued by her knight in shining armor. He could never fully escape the teasing that followed. Some of their colleagues even took to jokingly calling him and Boone "the newlyweds" afterwards. It didn't stick for long, though every now and then the whole story would get brought up once again and Manny would have to pretend that the only reason for the red flushing his face was embarassment and sunburn - good thing it had gotten dark already. Not like Craig would pay any mind, his attention was still on the beverage he'd been slowly draining while his friend was lost in thought.
Snapping back to reality, Vargas snatched his flask from the mans hand, promptly realising that there was barely any whiskey left inside. With a scowl on his face, he proceeded to drink what was left and tossed the empty container aside.
"Now you've left me with a dry mouth." He complained.
His companion huffed a small laugh and started to dig around in his satchel. Even though he was upset, Manny took this moment to appreciate his fellow soldier - the sharp angles of his jaw, muscular arms and pecs, broad shoulders, thin, but well shaped lips...
Craig was saying something, Manny soon realised. He'd been staring.
Quickly he tuned back into reality.
"You want it or not? I can drink it myself if-" the darker man cut him off by firmly grasping at the larger flask pulled out a moment ago by the guy in question.
"Gimme that." He mumbled under his breath before knocking back a big swig from the canteen.
They sat there for a while, resting against a big rock that originally was meant to ensure they weren't easy to target from behind and passing the alcohol back and forth, with Vargas very delicately shimming closer to Boone. His mind, now soaked with whiskey was yearning for closeness from the other sniper. Ever since the first time they met, he held an appreciation for the fair mans looks, but the more he got to know Craig - his now best friend and closest associate - he realised that he'd been not only attractive, but kind and caring, despite the tough facade he preferred to put up. Manny seemed to be the only one able to see through the act, or maybe the only one to bother trying. He wondered if there was a possibilty that Boone could ever feel the same way about him. He'd always assumed that his friend was interested strictly in women, however he'd never seem him express attraction to anyone - and if there was one thing his time in the NCR taught him, it was that even the thoughest soldiers, with wives waiting for them at home, liked to fool around with other men every once in a while.
Manny took another small sip and very carefully leaned over to rest his head on one of Craigs shoulders. A few seconds later his heart came to a halt, as the man next to him returned the favor, laying his head on top of Vargas' very own, with decidedly less hestation than his counterpart. Manny tried his best not to react, but in his drowsy, intoxicated state he couldn't help but lean into the warm touch.
They remained leaning on eachother in a comfort, both seemingly content with their position, until Boone reached for the now forgotten bottle, took a drink - still not breaking the physical contact between the two of them- and reached behind his friends back to put the now empty flask next to him, right beside the smaller container they'd finished off earlier. Vargas hadn't payed much mind to this act, and expecting the other soldier to be done with whatever he'd been doing, leaned back to his original position.
Apparently, Craig was in no hurry, as when Manny returned to his previous arrangement, he felt the other mans arm remain behind his back - almost wrapped around his shoulders. Just as he was about to lean forward again, as to not intrude on his friends space too much, especially after testing the waters already, he felt his partners hand find it's place on his shoulder. Manny froze - not only did his cold, unexpressive, distant to almost everyone peer just put his arm around him, he was slowly, but firmly pulling him closer. With heads still resting on one another, they fell into a comfortable silence.
Manny more-so tumbled and crashed into the quiet, his pulse not showing any signs of slowing down and heat rushing to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. He didn't dare make a move now. A bunch of different scenarios ran through his head, some of them hopeful and others seemingly more realistic - still, there was no amount of intoxication that could convince him that any of them were a good course of action.
They were as close as they could be without entirely changing positions now, and so, the First Recon finally mustered up the courage to look the other man in the face - and oh, god - he was so close.
The moment Vargas turned his head, he could feel the slight breeze of Boones breath and smell the whiskey they'd drunk earlier coming off of the man.
For a split second he wondered, just how intoxicated the other was. Did he even realise how close they were by this point? Craig was always hard to read, the man had a killer poker face, even though Manny had only seen him play a hand of caravan at most. The shaded glasses only served to obscure his expressions further. Going along with his train of thought, without paying any mind to his actions, the dark haired man engaged in the impulse and delicately discarded the snipers glasses.
The only response he was dignified with had been a tense moment of direct eye contact.
It's nothing like before - when discussing wether they should drink or not, the staring contest they shared was lighthearted and jokey in tone, but this?
This was something else.
As they exchanged glances, they shared something raw and emotional, a geniune feeling. This went on for a while, neither of them could tell how much time had passed, not that either one was complaining.
It was rather easy to get lost in the young soldiers eyes, once one got the chance to peer into them. Vargas gladly sunk in the deep green and slightly brown-ish hues of his companions irises, erring through them like a deep forest. Mannys head was fuzzy, from the alcohol or the butterflies coursing through his entire body - he wasn't sure, just like he wasn't sure wether or not he was swaying in place, as their faces seemed to be growing closer.
Not even a few seconds later a strong hand was delicately placed on the darker mans warm, rosy cheek and before he could even think, Manny was pulled in for a careful, loving, but still cautious kiss, as if the other man was looking for a confirmation, permission to go further. Boone was just about to ever-so-slightly pull away, when he felt his fellow army man grab the collar of his shirt, bringing him closer and dragging him into a more intense exchange. Their lips were locked in an embrace, something of pure feeling and passion that's been simmering between the two for many years without a resolve.
Once they finally pulled away, a short while was spent to even out their labored breathing, before one of them finally spoke up.
"Do you... Was that geniune or are you just shitfaced?" After many heartbreaks, the soldier had to ask, no matter how much he yearned for this moment.
"If it was up to me, I would be way more drunk right now." Maybe Craig was beating around the bush a little, but Manny had no issue understanding what the other implied. His friend had enough of a sober mind to know what he was doing, even if his judgement was a little cloudy.
After a moment he muttered something under his breath - Vargas could practically see the gears turning in his head - then got up, and reached a hand out to the other man. Blindly trusting his companion, the dark-haired man accepted the help and followed him down the hill, trying his best not to trip on their way.
The incline turned out to be steeper than it seemed on their way up, although that might've been the fault of the drinks they'd shared - either way, the gravel making up the path, combined with the near vertical angle of the small mountain was starting to cause Manny quite the issue with keeping his balance.
After a few minutes of struggle he tripped, bracing for impact that never came, as he was caught by a pair of strong arms landing on his waist and shoulder.
Turns out, the best of the NCR still keep their sharp reflexes, even when intoxicated. Though he wasn't the only one having issues standing, as his saviour promptly bent back and forth trying to keep himself on his feet.
At last, he stilled, leaned in, so close they were almost touching their foreheads together. Boone seemed to shy away, almost. He looked less sure of himself than before their first kiss, possibly more sober than previously.
'He's cute when flustered' Manny thought, the idea that it was about his - up 'till now - closest friend didn't even register, as he was too occupied with observing the red hue spreading on the mans sunkissed face.
Without a second thought, Vargas pulled himself up on his heroes neck and raked his head in closer with his hand, reaching in for another kiss. This one was just as passionate, if not less desperate - it felt more sure, not as much like they're only testing the waters.
With his full attention on the intertwine of their lips, Craig stopped watching his posture and started to wobble over, dragging his peer along for the fall.
The two men, tangled in eachother tumbled about one-third of the way down, skidding to a halt at the foot of the path.
A few brief seconds spent in disbelief, Vargas began shaking with laughter, the sound becoming more apparent as it went on.
He looked to his right, to the seemingly quiet soldier beside him. Though it wasn't as obvious, his ever-serious companion was also laughing. Not full blown laughter like Manny, but near silent giggles released under his breath.
The older of the two was captivated by sight - in all their years of friendship he'd only seen the other the other laugh a few times, and never like this. At most he'd let himself release a huff or small chuckle, most of the time he'd only smile a bit.
This was different. He was careless, putting his emotions on display in front of another person for the first time in many years. His face was tinted with a light blush and once he'd finished laughing, a delicate smile found rest on his lips.
Lips that Manny wanted to plant another kiss upon more than anything. Now outward affection had become risky. They were closer to the campout and there could be a few lone soldiers patrolling the surroundings.
It seemed that they shared the thought, as soon after Boone began to collect himself off the rough terrain, then reaching his palm out to his colleague, helping him up. The First Recons started to make their way towards the settlement, much to Vargas' disarray.
"We're already heading back?" He questioned, trying his best to not let the dissapointement shine through.
"Only for a moment" was all Craig said in response.
Once they made it to the armys tents, the younger began to look around, as if seeking out something or someone, then headed to one of the bigger tents, filled with cots. Still not explaining his plan to the soldier following him, he stopped abruptly in front of one of the beds and leaned down, pulling out a footlocker from underneath.
The contents of the box were pretty standard, but when he opened a smaller container of personal items that was sitting inside, after some rummadging, Mannys eyes landed on the prize - a bottle of bourbon. The glass was swiftly placed in Boones pocket, before both of them headed out of the camp.
The duo ventured out just enough to get out of the range of scouting NCR rangers and out of sight of the other few snipers.
They sat down on the roof of a small, long abandoned gas station and opened the their just accuired loot.
It was getting late - or early, depending on who you asked. Either way, the sun was very slowly making it's way out from behind the far away mountain ranges.
The sight was beautiful, but the two men couldn't help, but discreetly glance at eachother every time they thought the other wasn't looking.
The truth was, that both of them knew very well that their friend was staring at them, as they were already almost half-way through the bottle, and intoxication usually doesn't mix with careful, well-thought-out actions.
By the time morning was slowly rolling about, the two couldn't keep their hands off eachother. Manny was first to take initiative, though he wasn't leading for long. He'd practically lunged at Boone, a meeting of their lips quickly morphing into more of a tussle, the men pushing against one another, as their tounges did the same.
After a bit of back and forth, the shorter of them was sat on the others lap, holding him close by the waist, all the while smushing their mouths together.
Unsure of what to do with his hands, Vargas left them positioned on his companions thighs.
In the heat of the moment, Craig seemed to have decided that they're not close enough just yet, removing his hands from the waist and instead, grabbing Mannys vest, pulling him in as much as possible.
The man in question, caught by surprise, grasped at his backside. They could both very clearly taste the bourbon currently poisoning their minds, as well as feel it.
Once they were finally forced to take a break to catch some air, the soldier with the darker complexion moved on from his partners mouth, to his neck, placing soft, loving kisses upon it.
Meanwhile, Boone finally decided that time had come, reaching for the discarded bottle and drinking up the last of it's contents. After putting it back, he'd started carressing Vargas' back delicately.
A few more kisses later, the younger stopped, holding his peer by the shoulders.
"What's wrong? Do you not like it? We can do something else if you'd like-" Manny started, worried.
"I think I'm gonna puke." said the other man, panic much more clear in his features now.
His friend worked fast - even though Boone was more muscular than him, their chances evened because of their height, and so, the spotter put one hand on his shoulder, the other looping around his waist and quickly dragged him toward the edge of the roof.
As soon as they made it to the drop, the fair sniper expelled the contents of his stomach off it. All throughout, his colleague was gently petting his back, and making sure he wouldn't get throw-up all over himself - tucking dogtags into his shirt, removing the First Recon beret off of his head to ensure it wouldn't fall off and get dirty.
When it wrapped up, they realised just how tired they both were. Their shift would've ended just about now, judging by the way the sky was gradually lightening up.
It was about time to get back to the tent, they decided.
They sloppily made their way down the ladder and left the gas station, most likely being it's only visitors for a long while since now. With arms thrown around on one another, slowly, they ventured out in the direction of the NCR settlement.
A couple hard falls and stumbles later, they were at the foot of their bunk. Boone fell freely into bed, laxly throwing a blanket over himself, with half a mind to adjust it.
Manny stood there, his top bunk seeming a mile away from where he was standing - climbing up there felt impossible at the moment. He glanced at the other sniper, who was already almost passed out, and just a beat later, the man shuffled over to the other side of the mattress to make what little room there was available to his bunkmate.
Vargas smiled fondly, thankful for the gesture and laid down beside him, only to feel his fellow soldiers arms wrapping around his body, pulling him as close as possible. Manny felt himself blushing ferociously, before his eyelids started feeling heavy.
As he drifted off into the blissful embrace of sleep, he heard Boone snoring lightly. He smiled to himself as he fell into a deep slumber.