man. He wanted to wrap his arms around Hayden, to make this easier. For both of them.
“Fucking faggot, thinks he can be a SEAL,” Seiboweitz said, his words slurring.
“He is a SEAL,” Christian said firmly. “He’s a trusted member of this team. He’s saved lives, including several men in this room. What does it matter if he prefers to sleep with men over women? Are you afraid he’s going to hit on you? Afraid that you’ll like it? What the fuck does it matter who he sleeps with? How does it affect you? It doesn’t affect the way he does his job!”
“I’m not a faggot!” Seiboweitz bellowed, staggering as he swung a fist.
Christian blocked the punch, used the momentum against the drunk, spinning him around and slamming him into a nearby wall and pinning his arm behind his back. “Smith! Come take his drunk ass home before he does something to get himself fucking court-martialed,” Christian yelled, calling for Seiboweitz’s dive partner.
“He’s drunk,” the dark-haired man said by way of explanation, joining the small group at the center of everyone’s attention.
“Doesn’t matter. He’s said it too many times. Too many people have heard for it to be a one-time-he’s-drunk incident,” Christian said, pulling the man away from the wall and turning him around to face the bar’s patrons. Every man in there was either an active or retired SEAL. Only rarely did Brick close the bar to the public, tonight was one of those nights. Tonight there were a handful of women present either waitressing or hanging out with other SEALs. It was more people than Christian wanted to know about their business, but Seiboweitz had chosen a public forum for his insults.
“None of the officers or senior NCOs are here. They’re already dissecting what happened earlier. Think about it,” Brian O’Shaunessy said, stepping forward and crossing his arms. “Personally, I don’t trust him. I don’t want to go back into the field with him.”
Christian didn’t look around, but the silence in the room was telling. Missions and lives depended on trust, on knowing that each man was going to pull their weight. That they would watch each other’s back. Putting the team above one’s self and personal glory was the nature of a SEAL. A man who couldn’t be trusted put everyone in danger. And their mission, while successful, had been seriously compromised.
“That’s harsh,” Smith said finally.
“He’s letting something that doesn’t matter affect him to the point of causing issues with another SEAL. He either can’t or won’t let it go. How do I know that some of what happened wasn’t because he wanted Hayden dead or wasn’t willing to work with him? How do I know Seiboweitz pulled his weight? I don’t,” O’Shaunessy said flatly, shifting his weight. “Defend him, control him, fuck him—I don’t care. But I don’t trust him. Get him out of here before he ruins the entire night.”
Seiboweitz launched himself toward O’Shaunessy. Christian was pulled off balance as he struggled to retain his grip on the drunk. “I’m going to suggest that you get Seiboweitz home to work off his drunk or mad or whatever the fuck is bothering him before anyone else hears him go off on his anti-homosexual rant or he does something that will get his stupid ass court-martialed. It’s not like we can turn a blind eye to this,” Christian said turning and pushing Ryland Seiboweitz towards his dive partner before turning to Brian O’Shaunessy. “And while he is way out of line, there is no proof that Seiboweitz either intentionally or unintentionally did not pull his weight or cause any number of other issues. Now either shut up and drink or go the fuck home. We do not need any trouble.”
Minutes later, the atmosphere of the bar was back to normal. Christian sat partially on a high stool picking at the label on the beer bottle before pushing it away and reaching for the Coke the waitress had left. He’d initially
“Fucking faggot, thinks he can be a SEAL,” Seiboweitz said, his words slurring.
“He is a SEAL,” Christian said firmly. “He’s a trusted member of this team. He’s saved lives, including several men in this room. What does it matter if he prefers to sleep with men over women? Are you afraid he’s going to hit on you? Afraid that you’ll like it? What the fuck does it matter who he sleeps with? How does it affect you? It doesn’t affect the way he does his job!”
“I’m not a faggot!” Seiboweitz bellowed, staggering as he swung a fist.
Christian blocked the punch, used the momentum against the drunk, spinning him around and slamming him into a nearby wall and pinning his arm behind his back. “Smith! Come take his drunk ass home before he does something to get himself fucking court-martialed,” Christian yelled, calling for Seiboweitz’s dive partner.
“He’s drunk,” the dark-haired man said by way of explanation, joining the small group at the center of everyone’s attention.
“Doesn’t matter. He’s said it too many times. Too many people have heard for it to be a one-time-he’s-drunk incident,” Christian said, pulling the man away from the wall and turning him around to face the bar’s patrons. Every man in there was either an active or retired SEAL. Only rarely did Brick close the bar to the public, tonight was one of those nights. Tonight there were a handful of women present either waitressing or hanging out with other SEALs. It was more people than Christian wanted to know about their business, but Seiboweitz had chosen a public forum for his insults.
“None of the officers or senior NCOs are here. They’re already dissecting what happened earlier. Think about it,” Brian O’Shaunessy said, stepping forward and crossing his arms. “Personally, I don’t trust him. I don’t want to go back into the field with him.”
Christian didn’t look around, but the silence in the room was telling. Missions and lives depended on trust, on knowing that each man was going to pull their weight. That they would watch each other’s back. Putting the team above one’s self and personal glory was the nature of a SEAL. A man who couldn’t be trusted put everyone in danger. And their mission, while successful, had been seriously compromised.
“That’s harsh,” Smith said finally.
“He’s letting something that doesn’t matter affect him to the point of causing issues with another SEAL. He either can’t or won’t let it go. How do I know that some of what happened wasn’t because he wanted Hayden dead or wasn’t willing to work with him? How do I know Seiboweitz pulled his weight? I don’t,” O’Shaunessy said flatly, shifting his weight. “Defend him, control him, fuck him—I don’t care. But I don’t trust him. Get him out of here before he ruins the entire night.”
Seiboweitz launched himself toward O’Shaunessy. Christian was pulled off balance as he struggled to retain his grip on the drunk. “I’m going to suggest that you get Seiboweitz home to work off his drunk or mad or whatever the fuck is bothering him before anyone else hears him go off on his anti-homosexual rant or he does something that will get his stupid ass court-martialed. It’s not like we can turn a blind eye to this,” Christian said turning and pushing Ryland Seiboweitz towards his dive partner before turning to Brian O’Shaunessy. “And while he is way out of line, there is no proof that Seiboweitz either intentionally or unintentionally did not pull his weight or cause any number of other issues. Now either shut up and drink or go the fuck home. We do not need any trouble.”
Minutes later, the atmosphere of the bar was back to normal. Christian sat partially on a high stool picking at the label on the beer bottle before pushing it away and reaching for the Coke the waitress had left. He’d initially
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