A.N: Yay for another Jarhead fic! The site still hasn't answered my request for a new section. Anyone have experience with that?
No slash intended! Please R&R. Thank you.
"I told you; I was messed up. I apologized to Fergus, Jesus Christ. What else do you want?"
"What the fuck were you thinking? He could've fuckin' blown your head right off!"
"I know! I know already! Leave me the fuck alone."
Troy kneeled down, right in front of Swofford, getting in his face.
"You're fucked up, man. And we can't afford it."
"I'm fine," Swoff said. "I'm okay now."
"No, you're not. And you shouldn't be; I know that. You weren't made for the suck. But even if you're not, I won't tolerate you fucking up other peoples' heads. And I won't tolerate you fucking yourself up either."
Swoff's throat was quivering again, and Troy could see his eyes glimmer in the firelight.
"We could actually make it through this shit alive, if you don't go pointing rifles at yourself," said Troy, staring hard at his friend. Swoff gave a difficult nod. "Don't ask for death, Tone. If you do, she'll have no problem answering you."
Swoff bit his lip, tried to find sanity in Troy's face.
"It's okay to be angry," Troy murmured. The sand slunk away, like an abandoning lover, and Swofford's heart burned.
"Are you?" he choked.
"Just at you," Troy replied softly.
Troy squeezed his arm and leveled him with his gaze.
"Get some sleep."
He held on for one minute, two, three. He held on until Swoff's heart cooled. It seemed a long silence. When he finally let go and began walking back to camp, Swofford called out.
His friend peered back at him.
For being my friend and my spotter and my stability.