Chapter Text
The stories of the military Gabe had always heard were close to horror stories. Shared barracks, communal showers, mess halls. He'd prepared mentally for it, to share his space with 29 other people. So when the major gave him a key and mentioned a roommate, Gabe was sufficiently confused. If they weren't in barracks, where were they? He didn't have time to ask before he was whisked out of the room and put onto transport. Rumbles among the other cadets on the van said something about secluded cabins, a research facility, a room with a bed, and a camera. All meant to scare each other, surely, but not having to share a barrack makes him relieved.
He does, unfortunately, have a roommate. It's obvious once he reaches the cabin, the number above the door matching the number engraved on his key. It's large, too large for one man. The entryway is nice, a coat closet and a small hallway that opens into a living room. Spacious kitchen, two bathrooms. And two bedrooms. Gabe claims the room right off the kitchen, leaving the room near the family room to whomever his roommate is. Gabe prays it's someone quiet, and clean, who keeps to themselves. He's not here to make friends.
The duffle he carried with his few belongings is tossed unceremoniously onto the bed, Gabe following after it. His head hits the pillow, lower back aching from the rough ride and he lets out a loud sigh. Maybe this program was a good thing. It got him a cushy cabin, special treatment, and a few days off. Couldn't beat that, especially after finishing the hell that was BT. Gabe doesn't have a problem with authority--he wouldn't have joined the military if he did. It's the colonels and the sergeants on power trips that grate on his nerves. Thank God for the punching bag in the training room or Gabe would have socked his commander on more than one occasion.
He's toying with the idea of a nap when he hears the door creak open. A groan leaves him and he hopes, prays, that his new roommate will have the decency to leave him alone.
This was far different than anything he's ever heard of the military. His COs recommended him for the program but he never thought he'd be on a bus shipped out to a secluded area with his own room and space. He was expecting barracks but instead...
With every mile he travels, he feels freer. That is until he's opening the door and it's clear his roommate is already here. He hopes they don't snore. He hopes they don't make messes. He hopes they'll do the dishes because wet food is the grossest thing on God's given earth.
"Hello?" He asks, pushing the door back to shut it. A quick hip bump locks it before he pads off to the nearest bedroom, next to the family room. It's nice having his own room again. Even better when the beds are decent but it's also worrying.
What do they think is going to happen that they need... This?
"Wanna have a house meeting to set up some ground rules or save it for tomorrow? Cause I'm not getting stuck with someone that's gonna leave socks all over the floor. "
Ugh. Gabe's brow furrows and he grits his teeth. All hopes for a quiet roommate fly out the window. But he's right--ground rules are needed. Best to not put it off, though now Gabe's been denied his nap he really wishes it could wait until tomorrow. He grumbles to himself and gets up, boots heavy on the carpet as he walks to the living room.
All in all the place is nice. Strange, slightly suspicious, but nice.
"Guess we should talk now. Now or never, really." The couch is nice when he drops onto it, though it squeaks a little in protest to his weight. Ah, so they didn't splurge entirely on their super secret pets. "Just clean up after yourself, really. Don't touch my shit, I won't touch yours. I'm not a morning person, just fair warning."
He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table, arms spread across the back of the couch as he lounges. Might as well make this place feel like home. He doesn't bother asking his roommate's name, figuring he'll learn it soon enough.
"Basics, ‘spose. Common sense. Anyone with half a brain would know how to live with another person. I mean, we are the 'best and the brightest'."
Heavy feet, he thinks, and winces at the noise. His dad used to do the same thing. He tries to suck in a breath and remind himself he's not in Indiana but it only eased his anxiety a fraction. Pathetic, but he tries and that's all that matters.
He eases out of his room to the family room, hovering at the entrance way. The way the other guy presents himself is strangely aggressive and not all at once. Jack's struck by the feeling that he should crawl back to his room with his tail between his legs, but when has he ever been smart enough to do that? Rules are good and he has to make sure a few things don't happen.
"Yeah, I guess. No yelling? No sudden banging on the wall either. Some used to it at basic and I am a light sleeper. It messes up my whole day if I can't sleep."
Pause, hands running through thick, blonde hair. Lie number one. He wonders how long the list will get avoiding his issues.
"Name's Jack Morrison, by the way. Introductions beyond name tags would be great, too."
Ugh, the whole 'get to know each other' gimmick. Gabriel frowns and turns to look at his roommate--Jack. He looks visibly nervous and that only makes Gabe frown more. He looks young, barely old enough to join. Something scared this kid outta somewhere, or he had nowhere else to go.
"Reyes. Gabriel Reyes. You can sit, stop hovering in the doorway. Creepin' me out. I can do without yelling or banging. Too much noise. Though I will warn you," he gestures to the small TV set. "If that gets outside cable, and there's a soccer match on, I can't make promises."
He flashes a grin at Morrison, patting the cushions next to him. What happened to not making friends? Now he's inviting this kid to sit with him. To be fair, the poor guy looks like one glare from Gabe will send him skittering away. Must have had tough CO's.
"Reyes, got it." Jack looks a little unsure about approaching the couch but does so more out of keeping things light. He's out of Indiana. He's never going back and that's okay. He's done it. He's free.
"Soccer ain't bad, don't mind watching it either." He used to play. Never an American football guy. Hockey was ok but golf and soccer? Sign him up.
He slowly sinks into the couch, nicer than the one at home he thinks, doesn't say. He can't figure out how to approach any sort of conversation beyond turning his head to the tv to stare at the blank screen.
"I wonder if that really does get cable or if we're stuck with DVR."
Gabe shrugs, leaning forward to pick up the remote that was placed perfectly in the center. Cabins, TV, running water, and a kitchen. This whole thing feels wrong, and it grates on Gabriel's mind. Are they gonna be spending a lot of time in these cabins? Or are the cabins just showy to hide whatever hellish experiments this Soldier Enhancement Program is about? They'll find out in a day or two but it bugs him, bags at the back of his mind.
What was he doing? Oh yeah, checking the television. He clicks the set on, waiting for it to warm up. He's greeted by a menu or pre-recorded newscasts, popular television shows, and cup games of popular sports.
"Shit. DVR it is." He's not surprised. They want their perfectly tailored soldiers kept away from outside news. Something in his mind tells him brainwashing could come into play but he pushes it out. Conspiracy theories are for the younger cadets, not more experienced CO's.
But he shrugs at Jack and selects some old television show. White noise. Takes off the pressure of conversation (Gabe's almost all talked out—not that's he's quiet, simply not a people person). He stares at the screen, not quite watching it. Jack radiates nervous energy and even from his side of the couch Gabe can feel it. Maybe conversation is needed.
"Where you from, Morrison? You look All-American, güero."
Jack knew it. DVR was the only thing really reliable enough on the farm. The internet connections were shoddy at the best of times. He never dealt with tv and computers because of it. But the show seems familiar, can't place it. He almost hyper focuses on it rather than the bouncing of his knee and the way his palms feel the slightest bit clammy. What are they doing here? What is going to happen? Dread settles in his stomach but what they will do will help people. This is for the greater good. This can't be any worse than going back. It can't be. It won't be.
"A backwater place in Indiana. Farm. Lots of corn. If I ever see corn again in my life it might be too soon." The word is, baffling to say the least. Gore-do? The hell is a gordy-o? He hopes he doesn't look as confused as he feels while taking a glance at his roommate.
He's dark, skin and eyes. Attractive? Very. Something warm settles in his gut before he looks away. He can't think about this. He doesn't want to think about this here with a man that might be a little too strong. Don't shit where you eat. Don't give him reason to hate you.
"What about you?"
"LA. Never seen a field of corn in my life, but I can imagine it's one of the most boring things life has to offer." He chuckles slightly and surprises himself. He's actually enjoying this small talk? No, he can't. Gabriel decided, upon setting foot in this suspiciously swanky cabin, he would hate Jack. Jack makes it very hard to hate Jack.
It's slightly obvious, now that he says it, that Jack's from a small town in Bumfuck, Nowhere. Maybe that explains the nerves. It's scary to be somewhere completely different from where you've spent your whole life. Gabe can relate; he left LA once to go to his mother's village in Mexico when his abuela died. It would have been nice if he spoke Spanish fluently.
"Lemme guess, football star, prom king, top of the class? Bet you left a pretty girl at home, too." His face fits the stereotype too well, and while assumptions are never the best way to understand someone, Gabe would be surprised if it went any other way. "What do you think their endgame is? Lock us all away and pick us off until there's one super soldier left?"
"LA? That's exciting." He wonders what that must of been like. Bright lights, movie stars. He grins at the idea. He wants to see LA, "Maybe one day I'll get to see LA."
Ha, he wants to laugh at what Gabriel says next. Prom king? Nah, but prom king was definitely in him at some point. He does laugh because it's down right funny to get pegged as the complete opposite that he was.
"Not even close. Single, Prom King was the Quarterback and definitely not me. I hate American football, it's just a bunch of guys hitting each other." He gets a bit quiet thinking about how much to disclose, "Soccer team and I did golf. Some track. Didn't date in high school." Didn't date other kids, couldn't. Not with his... Sexuality in backwoods Indiana. Not with his best friend kicking him to the curb after having a gay crisis and dating every girl he could to forget how much he liked getting sucked off.
He hates thinking about it and he sighs out at the thought.
"Doubt it. They want an army, they won't pull a Hunger Games."
Jack's answer surprises him. So Gabe was far, far off the mark. It's rare, honestly, and he simply quirks an eyebrow at Jack. "Pretty boy like you not dating? Must've been a heartbreaker."
They make more small talk, weather, has Gabe ever seen a movie star, has Jack ever driven a tractor, etc. The DVR runs through for episodes of the television show before they both call it a night. Training tomorrow, and since neither of them know quite what that entails, they've decided it's best to get a good night sleep.