Chapter Text
“Armie.”
Diane found him sitting alone on the back porch peeling apart the label from his beer bottle, absorbed by the tiny pieces of paper floating to the ground. When she called his name, he froze, surprised that she had gone looking for him. He swept the pile of torn up pieces underneath the sofa with his foot, hoping she wouldn’t notice. The last thing he wanted was for her to get annoyed he was trashing her house. Especially today, he thought. He moved to the side of the old sofa, torn on whether he should make his excuses now and leave.
He cleared his throat, “Hello, Diane.”
He looked up at her standing in the doorframe and when she met his eyes, he saw nothing but pain reflected in them, and wished, not for the first time, that he was the one they buried today. Shame burned through his gut, and he looked down again at the bottle in his hand, fighting hard not to keep ripping into it. He felt Diane sit down next to him and after a moment, she passed a plate of sandwiches over.
“Thought you might want something to eat.”
He took the plate and settled it on his lap. “I’m not really hungry.”
When Armie had arrived at the house earlier, he had grabbed a beer and slipped out back. He couldn’t stand the thought of being around other people who knew Carl and having to listen to their stories about him and how great he was. He wasn’t ready for it. He also wasn’t prepared to face people who would either pity him or hate him, and wasn't sure which would be worse.
He and Carl used to sit out here on the porch on their days off, drinking beer (and in Armie’s case, smoking when he shouldn’t have been) and whenever Diane joined ‘em, the two would gang up on him and grill him on his love life or, more accurately, the lack of one. He never minded it though, their involvement in his life has always been a source of comfort. Carl and Diane had made him feel like he wasn’t alone in this town, the very last place he imagined being assigned to all those years ago. Now the porch felt like a ghost spot and Armie wasn’t sure when he’ll have the nerve to visit again after today.
Diane hummed, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “Take them home then. Please. There’s so much food here, I—I don’t know how I’ll eat it all.”
Diane, who had held it together throughout the service, finally broke down, sobbing into her hands and Armie was stunned for a second. He placed the plate of sandwiches and the beer down and gathered her in his arms, rubbing her back. That’s what Carl would’ve wanted, right? He would have wanted someone to hold her.
“I’m sorry, Armie…”
“Please—don’t apologize.”
He was the last person she should ever apologize to. If only he hadn’t been so goddamn arrogant, Carl would still be alive and Diane would still have a husband.
-----
Armie had no idea how long he’d been under for but he figured he could last a few more minutes. There was no need to rush to the surface, to fight for survival here and he wasn’t racing against any clock.
It was blissfully silent where he sat at the bottom of the pool, so vastly different from what he was used to in the Bering sea, which in his experience, always had something menacing to say. He was sitting with his legs crossed and his eyes closed, marveling at how peaceful he felt. He knew he would have to resurface soon though as he could feel how hard his lungs were working. Just a few more minutes, he thought.
Suddenly he felt the water being disturbed around him and a hand gripping his shoulder. He opened his eyes and a beautiful image floated right in front of him, making him doubt whether he had stayed underwater for too long. Maybe he was in heaven right now, free of any guilt or responsibility. And honestly… Armie was okay with that.
But the image in front of him turned into one of panic and Armie blinked slowly, trying to piece together what he had done to ruin heaven. Timmy gripped his shoulder harder and tried pulling him up, but Armie was too much of a dead weight at this point and uncooperative. Timmy grabbed his face in both hands, shaking Armie out of his stupor as best he could. He then pointed upwards and finally, Armie understood what the kid wanted.
He uncrossed his legs and started swimming, Timmy right behind him.
When he broke the surface, he gasped in a breath of air, his lungs rattling loudly in his chest. He treaded water for a few seconds, trying to get his head screwed on straight, but he wasn’t allowed another moment of peace because Timmy had launched at him, pushing his shoulders with his whole weight, throwing Armie back in surprise.
“WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING?” Timmy roared.
Armie sputtered out a reply, but Timmy kept at him, “Are you insane? You were down there for nearly four minutes!”
Was he really down there for that long? He started laughing at his own carelessness, but one glance at Timmy’s murderous look and he held it in.
“Kid, relax, I’m okay, that’s nowhere near the world record.”
He tried to pass it off as though it wasn’t a big deal, because in truth, he had no idea what he was thinking. He had trouble falling asleep last night, so maybe that had something to do with it.
“Don’t tell me to relax, when you could’ve…” He choked out a sob, and that’s when Armie realized the kid had been crying. He swam towards Timmy. When he was near enough, he pulled the kid towards him.
“Hey… hey, I’m okay, I promise.”
Timmy’s mouth twisted in a deep frown, but he let Armie hold him in his arms while they floated in the middle of the pool, Timmy’s face tucked into the side of his neck.
Timmy whispered, “Don’t do that again.”
“I won’t,” Armie vowed.
After a minute, he gently pushed Timmy away from him. “The others will be up soon, you better get going.”
Water clung to the kid’s eyelashes as he looked down briefly before nodding. Armie watched as Timmy swam away from him and climbed out of the pool. He didn’t question why Timmy had followed him here in the first place. He didn’t need to.
-----
Armie shoveled heaps of ice into the water tank, not caring if some of it hit the students on the way in. He could feel their death stares but he was used to it at this point, having been on the receiving end of so many over the last two months. He was nobody’s friend here, he had made sure of it. Even the other instructors weren’t too keen on spending time with him outside the classroom. It was lonely work and Armie missed his team, and his life back home in Kodiak, but he recognized that what he was trying to accomplish here was important. He needed to prepare these students for what awaited them out there the minute they graduated and nothing else mattered.
Once Armie was finished with the ice, he jumped back into the water to rejoin his class. He wasn’t the type of instructor that couldn’t take what he decided to dish out either. Immediately, his body responded with shock again, his muscles seizing and it felt like he was being stabbed a thousand times over. But he breathed through it with tiny breaths, his experience an advantage over all the students in the water with him. He was focused as he looked at each of his students in turn, fourteen of them floating in the water with him. Their bodies were gradually treated to freezing cold temperatures for nearly twenty minutes by now, and Armie wasn’t going to let them suffer alone.
“You know, the first stages of hypothermia are most critical.”
He floated towards Timmy, some instinctive part of him feeling the need to check on the kid. Timmy’s normally rosy lips were ghostly pale, his arms folded across his chest for some semblance of body heat, and Armie found he couldn’t stand the thought of the kid freezing, so he turned around, swam towards the other side of the tank.
“Why is that?” Nobody answered.
“It’s because you still have the ability to think!” He pushed on, “The decisions you make during this stage are going to determine whether you live or die.” When he saw understanding bloom on their faces, it gave him hope.
He noticed that Maxwell, number fifteen, had stopped administering CPR to a dummy on the edge of the tank and was slumped over, so he yelled out, “Is there a reason you’re not breathing, threepeat?”
Maxwell slurred, “I don’t know anyone w-who could stay alive without breathing for fifteen minutes, S-senior Chief.” Maxwell was referring to the supposed drowning victim he was working on.
His voice boomed throughout the swimming center, “Are you a coroner?” Maxwell didn’t respond. Armie knew he was close to giving up.
He turned towards the class, “Because pronouncing people dead is not part of our job description.” He needed them to understand that giving up wasn’t an option, not when it meant that another life could be saved if only they persevered and learned to push through their own pain.
“What do we always say?”
The class replied in unison, “There’s dead and then there’s dead.”
“WE NEVER STOP! Not from the cabin to the tarmac. Understood?”
“Yes, Senior Chief!”
He turned towards the edge of the pool. “Got it, Jim? We. Never. Stop.”
“Aye, aye, Senior Chief.” The young man started chest compressions again.
Armie took pity on him. “Alright Jim, in the pool. Chalamet, you’re up!”
Maxwell slinked into the pool, gasping when his body hit the water as Chalamet took his place. The kid was shaking violently over the dummy, not an ounce of goddamn body fat on the kid to protect him, and Armie had to stop himself from reaching out. He pressed the palms of his hands together, twisting and twisting his nearly numb fingers, reminding himself he had a job to do. There can be no distractions.
Suddenly the door to the facility opened with a bang as Captain Turner and his team of officers barged in. Fuck. Armie didn’t think they’d find out so quickly. He was fully aware there was a drill planned for tonight and that they were going to haul the students out of bed, take them through gear and systems training while sleep deprived to see how well they completed each task. But at this stage, two months into the course, Armie knew the drill was useless. Sleep deprivation was a given, and he’s trained these candidates (the ones still left anyway) well enough to know they could operate in that condition.
Now, they were sleep deprived and in a mildly hypothermic state, all the while trying to perform CPR. This was a real test. He checked his watch…just a few more minutes. He ignored the intruders, all of whom wore varying degrees of shock on their faces and turned to the class, “Three little letters will get you a hot cup of coffee and a warm blanket. Any takers? No?”
“How about you, Chalamet?” The kid had stopped shaking, but his compressions on the dummy were slow, ineffectual. The kid was running out of steam.
“It’s actually not that cold anymore, Senior Chief,” he muttered. But Armie caught his words.
“That’s because blood is moving from your outer extremities to your heart. That’s why your arms won’t work.” The kid put some extra force behind his movements now, spurred on by Armie’s words.
Armie swam around the perimeter of the pool. “You can plan on roughly 60% of your career in a mildly hypothermic state.” A silent wave of shock swept through the class. Yeah, Armie thought, this job wasn’t for the faint of heart. He was about to continue but Captain Turner interrupted him, “Senior Chief, may I have a word.”
Armie cursed under his breath but obeyed the captain and climbed out of the pool, the muscles of his arms seizing visibly as the captain asked, “Why wasn’t I informed of this? We have classrooms! Your assignment was simply to teach the stages of hypothermia.” The captain was concerned and probably envisioned complaints being filed, but Armie knew he wasn’t in trouble, not yet anyway. The captain usually turned a blind eye to Armie's drastic teaching methods, but admittedly this one was a huge gamble.
“Sir, just one more minute and you’ll understand why.”
The captain shook his head in disbelief, looked towards the heavens as if seeking some divine intervention before he nodded his permission at Armie.
Armie checked his watch again and addressed his class, “You’ve been in freezing cold water for twenty-five minutes now. Twenty-five. That’s five more than the pilot would’ve liked to give you, if you were out there in similar conditions. But it all comes down to you. You get to call the shots when you’re in the water. Five minutes might not mean much to you, but for a kid stranded, those five minutes are critical. That kid is hanging on to the belief that someone like you would come and save them. It could make all the difference.”
The candidates all looked at him, dumbfounded, and Armie hoped they realized just how far they’ve come in the two months they've been here. There wasn't a quitter among them. He felt almost every one of them had the potential to be a great rescue swimmer.
Armie turned towards Deli Santi, nodded his head, and the Chief jumped into action.
“OUT OF THE WATER, LET’S GO!”
Captain Turner shook his head in exasperation, but left the building without saying another word. Armie was sure there would be an inquiry in the morning, but he was too cold and exhausted to care. He watched the students as they made their way towards the hot showers, and soon only Chalamet was left, still bent forward over the dummy. Armie frowned.
“Hey… hey!” His shouting startled the kid. He waved at Farhoudi who had hung back, unsure if Armie needed help, but Armie signaled that he could handle this. The petty officer jogged off to catch up with Delli Santi and the rest of the class.
“Come on, get up, Chalamet.”
Timmy was shaking again, Armie wasn’t sure if the kid even heard him, so he plopped himself down right next to the kid and wrapped his whole body around him. The kid slumped into Armie’s chest, muttering under his breath, and that had Armie worrying. He needed the cocky little shit back, not this lifeless version of him. He rubbed Timmy's arms, trying to warm the kid up a little.
“Hey,” he whispered after a little while, “can you stand up for me? Hmm?” Timmy nodded slowly. Armie hooked his arms underneath the kid’s shoulders and hauled him to his feet. Timmy wasn’t steady on his own, so he wrapped an arm around Timmy’s shoulder and started walking towards the showers, half dragging Timmy along with him. He needed to get the kid warm as quickly as possibly. He saw a discarded towel by the door and scooped that up, wrapping it around Timmy.
“Ew.”
Armie sighed in relief, at least the kid was coherent now.
“What’s going on, hmm? You were fine a minute ago.”
“M-maybe I just like having you carry me,” he whispered.
Armie knew Timmy wasn’t being honest, but he let it go for now. There were a few stragglers left in the showers, most having quickly warmed up and left, evidence of used towels strewn all over the bathroom floor. Timmy should have already gone ahead to the barracks, should be under five layers of blankets by now, not struggling to walk on his own. For the first time, Armie wondered if he had gone a little overboard with the class.
By the time he managed to park Timmy under one of the showerheads, he found they were the only ones left in the room. He tested the heat of the spray, confident it wouldn’t burn Timmy’s skin before gently nudging the kid towards it. He left Timmy to peel off his clothes in private.
Armie definitely ignored the way the kid moaned under the stream of water, choosing instead to turn on the shower two stalls down on the left. He undressed, shivering at the air hitting his damp skin. He ducked under the spray, quickly scrubbing the sides of his face, his arms, across his chest, feeling warmth spread throughout his body. When he finished, he looked over to see the kid’s head hanging forward, water sluicing over his curls, pillows of steam swirling around him. The kid had his arms braced on the wall, supporting his position but otherwise made no move to shower as quickly as his classmates had.
Armie slowly approached him, “Get going, Chalamet, so I can close up.”
Maybe Timmy needed a stern word to light a fire under his ass.
All Armie got in response was, “Hmpf…”
Okay enough of this, he thought. He grabbed a clean towel for himself and wrapped it around his waist, and another for Timmy. He marched towards Timmy next, and turned off the shower, spinning the kid around. He quickly dried the kid off, too pissed and concerned to be aroused by all that creamy smooth skin.
“Is it bad that I like it when you take care of me?” Timmy chuckled.
The nerve on him, honestly, Armie should have let Farhoudi deal with him.
“Cut the crap.”
Timmy finally took control, and grabbed the towel from his hands, wrapping it around himself like a bathrobe. At least the kid had the decency to look ashamed.
“Armie…I’m alright now, I’m sorry.”
Timmy placed one trembling hand over Armie's chest, right where Armie’s heart would be while keeping his towel tightly wrapped with his other hand. Armie could feel his heart beating rapidly under the kid's palm and after a moment's hesitation, brought his own hand up to cover Timmy's.
Armie was shaken by how intimate this felt, how achingly familiar they were to each other with barely any direct contact between them. He had been carefully avoiding this from the moment he left the kid standing alone beside that goddamned picnic table. Besides that one near-miss in the pool a couple of weeks ago, neither man had dared to orbit so closely around each other.
But now? There seemed to be some magnetic force, some cosmic entity, that always drew them together in this way. It felt electric, and Armie hasn't felt this way in a very long time.
What would've been had they not met at "A" School? What if they had just met at a bar, and had one blinding night of passion together. There's no use in entertaining those thoughts though, is there?
Because they did meet at "A" School and Armie was Timmy’s teacher. Every single card was against them.
He lowered his hand and stepped back.
"Head back to the barracks," he said. "I'll see you at 0700 tomorrow, kid."
His dismissal was another bucket of ice over their heads, but Timmy didn't argue.
Armie kept himself busy by picking up random towels, unwilling to watch the kid walk away from him.
But unfortunately, his ears still worked, picking up a throwaway comment from Timmy halfway out the door, "I'm not a kid."
"Another?"
Donna nodded at the empty glass in front of him. He should have called it a night, but he had a very long week and was finally enjoying himself, so, to hell with it, he thought.
"Yeah, sure, thanks Donna."
He was sitting at the bar at Jimmy's, waiting for Donna to hand him another scotch. It was Saturday night, on a long weekend, mostly everyone on base had been given leave to return home. Kodiak was much too far for Armie to return to just for a couple of days, and besides, he had no one waiting for him there. It didn't make sense. So he was one of the few who were left behind.
He swung around in his stool to take in the crowd at Jimmy's. The stage was empty, the band they hired for the night on a short break. The juke box was playing Sweet Home Alabama, and Armie found himself bobbing his head to the beat. He couldn't help himself, it was just one of those songs.
Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone checking him out. He sneaked a glance.
A slender man with close-cropped hair by the jukebox took a swig from his beer but his eyes remained on Armie the whole time. He had green eyes, almost the same color as the sea. Armie felt himself blush at the attention and swung back around, facing the mirror hanging on the back of the bar. God, he looked like shit tonight. He ran a hand through his hair.
Donna had already placed his scotch there, so he picked it up and drank it in one go, feeling it burn all the way down to the very bottom of his stomach. Liquid courage.
He didn't know yet what he wanted to do, but it's been a very long time since he's scratched that particular itch.
He hadn't missed that the man was in uniform either. Navy. They had been in town all week. Traditionally the Coast Guard and the Navy were rivals, so there had been some tension going around town at little bar establishments like this one. As long as none of his own students had caused any trouble, Armie couldn’t care less.
The man was surrounded by his navy buddies though, so Armie had to be careful. Before he got the chance to make a move, he felt someone slide in right beside him.
"You aren't seriously considering banging that twink are you?"
Of fucking course, he thought. He couldn't catch a break.
He turned to his right and was rewarded with an incredulous smile on ruby red lips. Timmy was leaning on his side, one arm resting on the bar, his body inches away from Armie. The stir Armie felt just now on hooking up with a stranger was amplified a hundred times over as he took in the kid's appearance.
Timmy was dressed in tight black jeans, and a white v-neck tee. Armie could see Timmy's collarbone peeking out, and thought if he reached over with one finger, he could easily stretch that v-neck even further to reveal a nipple.
Fuck, he felt intoxicated.
"It's none of your business," he said.
"Oh come on, you can do better than him. Plus, he's in the Navy. And that's just plain wrong." Timmy scrunched his eyebrows in an adorable frown, shaking his head like Armie was about to commit an unforgivable sin.
"Keep your voice down," he said firmly.
Timmy shrugged, clearly sloshed enough that he wasn't being careful. In a small town like this, in North Carolina no less, things could get a little dicey if people found out you were gay. And trashing the Navy was a close second.
He felt a tap on his shoulder then and he saw Timmy’s eyes had widened in both surprise and disgust.
He turned around and saw the man who had been checking him out earlier had indeed wanted his attention.
"Hi, my name is Trevor," he whispered in Armie's ear, "can I buy you a drink?"
The boy was sweet. He had a sweet voice and a sweet smile, just so fucking sweet that Armie could easily imagine a tender night between them filled with high-pitched moans and breathy laughter. He can imagine picking this boy up in his arms easily and doing things to him he longed to do to someone else. Someone he couldn't have.
The boy definitely piqued his interest, and he threw caution to the wind, so wound up that he just needed this tonight.
He was about to say yes when Hurricane Timbo cockblocked him.
Timmy had gotten behind the boy and yanked the boy's elbow back, and said through gritted teeth, "Fuck. Off."
The boy was stunned silent, looking between Armie and Timmy with confusion.
"Trevor? Sorry about him, he's clearly drunk…," he placed himself in front of Timmy, his sheer size blocking Timmy from making any further assault on the unsuspecting boy.
Armie was about to make his excuses and leave, resigned to another lonely night, with only his right hand for company when he saw Trevor's Navy buddies making their way to their group by the bar.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He grabbed Timmy's arm, purely in survivor mode now, and was about to run with him out the exit but the Navy crew stopped them from getting too far.
"Is there a problem?" A burly man with a simple face spoke, looking at the pair of them and Trevor.
"There's no problem, we're just leaving."
"No? Because your little friend there looks like he has a problem." He nodded at Timmy and Armie heard the kid chuckle behind him.
"Oh good come back," Timmy snickered.
"You talkin' to me?" The man growled.
For fuck’s sakes.
"Shut up," he whispered out of the side of his mouth but Timmy was clearly having none of it.
"Okay fellas," Timmy piped up again, "You made your little point. But this isn't Taxi Driver, so get outta of the way, so we can leave."
Timmy rolled his eyes and was about to walk ahead to the exit but the burly man shoved him back so hard, it landed Timmy on his ass.
"HEY!" Armie yelled.
What happened next was a flurry of fists and shouts, as he hustled to pick Timmy off the floor, pushing, punching and shoving those Navy scumbags out of the way and making a run for it. He heard Trevor's desperate pleas for his friends to stop chasing them, and Armie spared a thought for the sweet man and the night they could've had.
He and Timmy ran down the block and turned a right corner, looking behind them to see if anyone followed.
When they were sure they were out of danger, they stopped, both of them doubling over from exertion.
Armie spat out blood, the side of his jaw already swelling spectacularly. How was he going to explain this to the captain?
Shit, he was so screwed.
Timmy suddenly started giggling, and that rankled Armie’s nerves. He hauled Timmy by the scruff of his neck down a deserted alleyway and pushed him up against a brick wall.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" He snarled.
Timmy looked haughty just standing there.
"Nothing." His defiance only served to piss Armie off even further.
"That was so fucking stupid. We could've gotten our asses handed to us back there."
Still no response.
"Do you realize you could've been dismissed from the program if it had gotten outta hand and the police were called?" He yelled.
Timmy looked down, finally admitting how irresponsible he'd been.
"I'm sorry."
"I don't need an apology, Timmy, I just want to know what the fuck you were thinking."
Timmy looked at him imploringly. Maybe it was the scotch, but Armie just didn't understand what the kid wanted from him.
"I--I couldn't bear the thought of you going home with that guy." Timmy's eyes teared a little and Armie felt like the worst shit in existence.
"Why does it matter so much to you?"
The fire was back in Timmy's eyes, "Don't play dumb, Armie."
"There's nothing here," he said, not sure who he was trying to convince.
"Fuck. You."
Timmy pushed away from the wall, shoving Armie back. Armie was taken by surprise by Timmy's vitriol. What more could Armie have done? He was just trying to protect the kid.
"I just can't do this anymore, Timmy. You need to get over it," he called after the kid’s retreating back.
Timmy whirled around to face him. Two steps forward. "How am I supposed to get over it when you treat me the way you do. I fucking know you, Armie," he roared. "I see you. I fucking see you."
"What the fuck do you see, huh? I am just your instructor, Timmy. I'm an insufferable hard ass."
Timmy launched himself at Armie, his turn to push him into the wall.
"I see a broken man, who does his best to make sure everyone else is safe."
Armie laughed. "Come on, that's bullshit."
"It's not. I know you care about us. You can act like you don't, but I know you do. And…"
Timmy got shy all of a sudden, and Armie couldn't help but reach out and tuck that stray curl behind Timmy's ear, so that it was out of the kid's eye.
The kid looked into his eyes, desperately seeking reassurance and Armie felt his heart pounding painfully in his chest. "You care about me," he whispered.
Timmy bit his rosy lip in invitation, and Armie felt himself sinking, and he had no willpower left to save himself.
He grabbed Timmy's arms and smashed their lips together.
Finally, he felt like he wasn't lost at sea anymore.