Deliverance - Hooch and Matt's Story (8 page)

“Yes,” Hooch nodded once, no more than a curt jerk of his chin. “Almost a year ago now. I came out of my last mission with a broken pelvis.” The art of understatement one he’d learned too well.

She didn’t pry further into the injury. “I thought so. I think if he was going to pity you, it would have been then. But no, I don’t believe he did, because that’s simply not how the two of you work, is it?”

“No, but there’s something he doesn’t know. Something that isn’t physical.” Unspoken that for Hooch physical injuries were acceptable. Others…not.

Clarity, then, and understanding in her eyes. “Matt is very perceptive, you know,” another pause, “and a much lighter sleeper than you might suppose.”

A deep furrow appeared between Hooch’s eyes, as he pondered her words. “But if he knows, why does he pretend he doesn’t?”

“Ah, well,” Anne’s fingers curled around her mug, “probably for the same reason we never said anything to my dad about his sleepless nights.” She took a sip, “pride is a touchy thing, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Hooch took a sip, then studied the green tinged contents of his mug. “Matt…” he finally looked up, “I don’t want to…” he shrugged and his face contorted for a moment in an expression of helplessness and frustration. “I don’t know.”

“We always do want to keep them from knowing the horrible things in the world, as though if they didn’t know about it, somehow it would mean that the world wasn’t all that bad.” After a pause, that seemed to stretch out forever, “true enough that even most Marines won’t have seen or gone through the things you have

but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know very well.” She sipped her tea. “Dad never really did do anything about his sleepless nights. There wasn’t much that could be done, back then, even if he had sought help. They all wanted to simply forget, but that’s not possible for anyone, even if they wish it.”

“Yeah,” Hooch’s voice was soft, “that’s it. If I pretend he doesn’t know then it didn’t really happen. It’s bullshit, though.”

The length of his silence matched her earlier one. Time for thoughts and understanding, perhaps even the beginnings of some realizations.

“I respect your opinion, Anne. What would you do?”

“Let him know, from you, and not just guess.” She put the mug down gently. “He may or may not be able to make things any better, but I suspect both of you will be the better for it. You both are burdened with too many secrets already, and maybe he can be upfront to you, too. I suspect he’s been trying to make sure you’re too exhausted at night to dream.”

Hooch’s eyes flew open at the last bit. One thing to talk about what was innermost with her, another for the mother of his lover to imply them having sex. “I…” he stammered, “yeah, I guess, Matt…” Despite his best efforts, he colored slightly, hiding his discomfort behind the mug as he drained the last of his tea.

“I’ll talk to him.” He sat the empty mug down. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Anne tried not to smile at Hooch’s fluster and fumbling. “Anytime,” she added, as Hooch left the kitchen, and she finally let herself grin widely into her cup. She’d been worried about him, but strangely, though clearly Hooch was a dangerous man to others, she didn’t doubt at all how much he loved her baby boy. And that, at least for now, was what she cared about. The rest could wait, a very long time if need be.

When Hooch returned to the room, Matt was awake and sitting up, the covers bunched around his waist. “Hey,” he looked anxious, “something wrong?”

“Hey.” Hooch sat down on the bed in his shorts and t-shirt, pulling himself up to lean against the headboard. “Everything okay now. Had some tea with your mom.” He looked at Matt, studying the handsome face and that goddamned perfect body, and yet all he could see right now was what he knew resided beneath the attractive exterior. “C’mere a sec.”

Matt scooted closer, but there was still a wary concern in his eyes. “The last time you went all funny like this you told me you were a masochist,” he grumbled, “any new surprises?”

“Not quite.” Hooch chuckled low, as he wrapped his arm around Matt’s shoulders to hold him close. It felt damn good, and it had only taken him a few years to realize that. “How often have you noticed me waking up in the middle of the night?”

Matt froze momentarily, then relaxed. “Less often than when you first came to my old place,” he said, after a few moments’ reflection.

Hooch huffed. “And you never said a word.” He mock-slapped the top of Matt’s head with a couple of fingers, taking his time before he continued. “It’s always the same. Always the room we were locked up in.”

Matt’s frown was hidden in Hooch’s shoulder. “Nightmares? Or memories?”

“Memories.” Hooch looked down and right into Matt’s eyes. “I never told you any details, I didn’t want to burden you, but…” he shrugged gently, “I made that decision without giving you the chance to decide for yourself. You’re no sensitive flower, you’re a tough guy, Matt, I don’t always keep that in mind.” He took a slow, deep breath. “It’s time to ask you now: do you want me to explain what I dream of?”

Matt nodded. “Yes,” he moved out of Hooch’s grasp and tugged at the covers, “but you should get under here. Central heating’s not that good.” Pausing while Hooch pulled off the t-shirt and slipped out of his shorts, then got under the covers, before Matt scooted up close again, a hand ghosting over the scars left by the cigarette burns. “Never wanted you to think I was digging, not when I didn’t know when I was going to hit a mine.”

Hooch held Matt close, looking up at the ceiling, the night light still on. Not having to look at Matt while talking made it easier, and for once he allowed himself some cowardice. “I fractured my pelvis in the landing, you know that, and you know I was tortured. Cigarette burns were the easiest, much worse to be dropped from a height, landing with my broken pelvis, and then manipulating the broken bones.” Hooch’s voice was matter-of-fact, nothing else would do. “That’s not what I dream of, though. What I didn’t tell you was the place I was locked up in. A room with hundreds of men, all prisoners. So many, we stood crammed, pushed against each other. The stench…I can’t get rid of it. Piss, shit, sweat, decomposing flesh. Each morning the corpses were shuffled towards the door.” Hooch paused a moment. “Eventually, I wanted to let myself fall back and give up. That would have meant death, but I couldn’t care anymore. That’s the worst, knowing I gave up then.” He paused again, forcibly relaxing his hand and his fingers, which had gripped Matt tightly. “I was saved by kindness. Fellow prisoners held me up, made me swallow food and liquid, took the weight off my pelvis. It’s their arms I literally owe my life to.”

A movement in his arms as Matt shuddered, and then stilled. “Yes.” Because what else could be said that wouldn’t add to Hooch’s burdens? Matt’s hands soothing Hooch, his chin on Hooch’s shoulder. “Often?” he asked. “You don’t toss and turn or anything…you just…stop…so it’s hard to tell when it happens.”

“Not that often.” Hooch threaded his fingers into Matt’s hair. It felt good, for more reasons than he’d ever cared to examine. “Had a lifetime of having to be silent in any situation, guess that’s helping now.” He let out a soft sound of brittle amusement. “It mostly happens when I’m in a new place, a new situation. Never figured I’d need stability and routine in my life. I’ve turned into a boring old fart.”

“You? Never.” Matt wriggled closer. “Plenty of new stuff this weekend, too.” He stopped. “You said you talked to Mom…she tell you about grandpops?”

“Yeah, she did. That why you enlisted?” Hooch let his fingers run down to the back of Matt’s neck, rubbing circles over the short hair there. “She also told me you made sure you tired me out every night so I’d sleep dreamless. Now that was fucking embarrassing.”

Hooch wasn’t the only one who evidently found that embarrassing, as Matt burrowed into Hooch’s shoulder. “Oh, she
would
do that,” he groused, “not that you seemed to object.” He added, then sighed. “When I was a kid, I wanted to be just like grandpops. He was at D-Day, the works. I used to think of him, what he’d have thought, what he would have done, when I was in the Gulf.” A pause. “He died when I was ten.”

“Did you ever feel you were doing what he did?” Hooch increased the pressure of his fingertips. “I wanted to believe that what happened to me was for the good of our country, but it didn’t work. The country knew jack shit about the reason why I was out there.”

“Not quite the same thing, now, is it?” Matt sighed, “or at least it didn’t…doesn’t feel like it.”

“Not the same thing at all, no matter what bullshit they feed us.” And yet he still did his job. “The newscast…you mentioned it once, in the hospital. You saw me.” Hooch didn’t quite make it a question.

“Worst moment of my life,” Matt’s voice was muffled, “I think that was when I knew you meant more to me than anything. All the more so that…” He trailed off. No point re-iterating the craptastic situation after Hooch’s capture: Matt unable to get any information or even seek any out, without raising some very awkward questions. Just getting to see Hooch at hospital had involved new heights of ingenuity and outright lying to achieve. Not to mention having to skulk around the corridors to avoid Hooch’s family.

“Hey,” Hooch murmured, “I’m here now, in your goddamned teenage bedroom, and I’m only sometimes back there in my dreams.” He craned his head so he could look down at Matt. “I’ll even go see a shrink if you want me to, or have a mug of hot cocoa before bedtime, if you prefer.” Hooch smiled, one of his rare ones, which warmed the darkness of his eyes. “I belong hide and hair to one Matt Donahue with a loud family and a very clever mom.”

“And you haven’t even managed to survive brunch yet,” Matt answered the smile, “I swear, I’ve never been able to work out how she gets Thanksgiving dinner and brunch done every year.” He freed a hand from the tangle of duvet and ran a finger down the length of Hooch’s nose. “As for the rest of it, we’ll just take it as it comes. If I can be of any help…”

Hooch followed the fingers with his gaze until he was cross-eyed. “If I wake up again from that dream, can I wake you? Seems that being talked out of that godforsaken place of my dreams works quickest.” He gave Matt’s neck a squeeze. “I am making the assumption we’ll soon be sleeping in the same bed every night. The apartment’s almost finished?” He yawned, the late hour finally catching up with him. “I’m looking forward to informing my superiors of my change of address.”

“You know you can wake me anytime” A chuckle from Matt, “I’d like to see the looks on their faces.” Then, serious, “you think any of them know?” Unspoken ‘about us.’

“I don’t think they know, and if they do, they carefully don’t want to know.” Hooch looked positively amused. “They’ll soon have a hard time ‘not knowing’.”

Matt chuckled quietly, his fingers lightly tracing up Hooch’s cheekbone. “Sleep? We’ve got another few hours yet before the madness starts again and you promised a proper christening of this bed.”

Hooch smiled a little. “Not sure I can right now, Matt.”

One of Matt’s rueful smiles, as he deliberately misunderstood. “I’ll let you get away with it, for now, after the heart-to-heart and all. But I’ll be gagging for it in the morning, just to warn you,” echoing Hooch’s words earlier in the night.

“As long as you don’t mention your mom along the way, I am sure I’ll be ready and waiting.” Hooch slid down and onto pillow before reaching for the light. He held Matt close, his arms around him, as they went off to sleep at long last.

* * *

Matt was grateful that his body clock was still on Marines time when he blinked awake in the hazy predawn, still curled around Hooch, who was still asleep, his face relaxed. Unusual in itself, because Hooch tended to drift away during the night.

Unwilling to wake Hooch just yet, Matt slowly inched himself away. Propping himself up on an elbow, he took in the rare sight. Even during his recovery, Hooch was almost always awake before him.

A minimal shift in breathing would alerted Matt to Hooch sliding from asleep to awake. “Still a frog, not a prince yet, no matter how long you stare.” Eyes still closed, a smile stole onto Hooch’s features, keeping the frown at bay for a while longer.

Now that deserved a proper kiss, and Matt dived in. “Enough of the fishing for compliments,” he said as he came up for air, “but I think that’s enough to wake Sleeping Beauty?” He wriggled closer suggestively.

Hooch chuckled in the back of his throat. “You could always try to kiss me awake lower down.”

A wicked grin spread over Matt’s face as he pressed closer, feeling Hooch harden fully. “I think you’re quite awake already,” he reached over and behind Hooch to the dresser, where he’d left the lube.

Hooch was tracking him with his eyes, lying as still as a stature. His grin, though, began to widen, as Matt pulled the duvet back over them and moved about. Somehow, not being able to see what Matt was doing under the covers, made it all the more erotic. A few moments later Matt had straddled Hooch and was looking down at him.

“It’s time for a swap of places.” Hooch’s voice remained quiet, always aware of the parents asleep in the adjacent room. He flipped them both over, letting the covers slip off, as he loomed over Matt, grinning down. “I bet you my ass that you won’t be able to stay silent.”

With the wager on, he threw himself into preparing Matt, like he’d throw himself into any mission: with utmost focus and equal skills. He knew just how to speed enough and yet not too much, before he buried himself into Matt’s body, unleashing the strength of his own to give ultimate pleasure, his own secondary right now.