Jensen had never really considered himself to be unobservant before. He was the comms and tech guy; observation was part of his job description, and Jensen was damned good at his job.

At least, that's what he'd always thought, until he opened the flap to the tent that Clay and Roque were sharing, caught a glimpse of what was happening on Clay's cot, and backed away so quickly that he stumbled on the uneven ground and fell on his ass.

Pooch looked up from his game of solitaire and frowned sympathetically. "You okay?"

Okay was maybe the worst possible descriptor of Jensen's current state, but he couldn't exactly say that, so instead he forced a grin and said, "Yeah, fine." He got to his feet and brushed himself off, carefully looking at Pooch and not at the suddenly toxic tent.

Pooch nodded in response, rather than calling him a lying liar who lied, so Jensen must have sounded believable. And then he said, "They're at it again, huh?" and Jensen nearly fell over again.

"They what?" he said, sure that he'd misunderstood somehow.

"Roque keeps trying to get them to hang a sock up, but it's a tent; where are you gonna hang a sock? Still, we've got to do something. There's only so many times I'm willing to have my eyes scarred like that."

"Uh, yeah. No kidding," Jensen said, doing his best to keep his own eyes from bugging out of their sockets. Then he jerked his thumb towards the clump of bushes where they'd dug their latrine and beat a hasty retreat. He needed a minute to regroup.

When he was standing over the latrine, he went ahead and unzipped his pants; might as well drain the snake while he was thinking. And there was certainly thinking to be had. So: on the plus side, it looked like he could've been a lot less circumspect about swinging both ways. DADT was bullshit, and apparently the rest of the Losers agreed; that was good to know.

On the minus side…what the fucking fuck?! Even leaving DADT completely and totally out of it: Clay was their commanding officer. The Losers were about as casual with each other as you could get, but Clay was still the one calling the shots. That was some serious potential for abuse, and Jensen mostly figured that fraternization rules existed for a reason.

He shook the last drops off his dick and tucked it away. He really didn't want to go back to the camp just yet, so he found a nice looking tree and leaned back against it, communing with nature for a while.

Still, he argued with himself, the split-second look he'd had of Clay and Cougar didn't much look as though Cougar was being abused. Cougar had been sprawled out on Clay's cot—Clay kneeling between his spread legs—propped up on his elbows so that he could watch Clay suck his cock. Appearances could be deceiving, but the expression on Cougar's face hadn't exactly screamed, "Bad touch."

Jensen shifted a little. Actually, the expression on Cougar's face had been fucking hot, and Jensen really hoped that all of his reasoning wasn't simply self-justification. He didn't think it was, but he couldn't be absolutely, hand-to-God certain. Obviously, he'd have to keep an eye on the situation.

---

Jensen wasn't quite sure what he'd expected now that he knew about Clay and Cougar. It seemed too earthshattering for things not to change, but instead everything kept going just as it had been. Clay and Cougar were both totally normal. If he hadn't walked in on them, he'd never be able to guess that the two of them liked to touch pee-pees on occasion. Or possibly not on occasion? Maybe they were doing it every other day, and he was just walking around as oblivious as he'd been for the past however many months.

He did wonder sometimes if it was all an elaborate joke. But there was no way the Losers could resist laughing their asses off at him if it were, and as the days passed, he became more and more certain that what he'd seen in the tent was the real deal.

Of course, then he started to wonder if he'd hallucinated the whole thing. It wasn't impossible; he'd once hallucinated an acrobat doing backbends in the middle of the street, and another time he'd seen a gnome hiding behind a bush. Admittedly, both times he'd been suffering from some pretty extreme sleep deprivation, but still. He was prone to hallucinations; this might be another one.

He kind of wanted to ask Pooch about it, but what could he say? Hey, about that thing our CO and our sniper are doing that could totally get them kicked out of the service, and that's also completely none of my business. Wanna tell me all about it?

So he kept quiet (well, on this topic anyway; not in general) and kept his eyes open and attempted not to obsess too much over his maybe-hallucination.

---

"I've seen you watching me," Cougar said.

Jensen flailed a little; thankfully he didn't tip over his cot. He wasn't too used to people getting the jump on him, but Cougar was just that good. When he'd recovered from his minor heart attack, he said, "Of course I watch you. You're a handsome devil, Cougs," with just the right amount of sardonic humor for the truth to sound like anything but.

Cougar didn't say anything, but his mouth twitched a little in response.

Jensen waited, and Cougar still didn't say anything. The urge to babble was strong in Jensen, despite knowing that that was a really fucking stupid idea, because who knew what would come out of his mouth when all he could think about was Clay's mouth stretched around Cougar's dick and the fact that Clay was, in retrospect, a lot sexier than Jensen'd given him credit for and the way Cougar was staring at him right now with dark eyes and a half-smile still on his face? Nothing good, that was for sure.

A split second before Jensen broke under the strain, Cougar got gave him a quick nod and ducked out of the tent.

Jensen let out a long, whooshing sigh, yanked the blanket over his head, and went back to sleep after only an hour or so of trying.

---

Clay was smiling more than usual. It made Jensen nervous.

At least it wasn't Roque grinning his head off; Jensen was a brave man, but not that brave.

---

It hadn't been a hallucination. Jensen knew this because his not-a-hallucination was happening all over again, only this time it was taking place in Cougar's cot. With Jensen lying eight inches away from it.

He wondered where Pooch had gotten to, and why he hadn't had the goddamned courtesy to take Jensen with him before the live porn show started in their tent. And then Clay groaned softly, and Jensen stopped thinking about Pooch's weaselly ways and started trying to knock himself unconscious with the power of his mind.

There were enough birds chirping that it had to be around dawn; if Jensen opened his tightly closed eyelids, he'd be able to see them, and that was way more temptation than he could handle right now. The rustle of blankets and the sound of skin sliding against skin seemed unnaturally loud in his ears. They couldn't actually be fucking (could they?!), the cot couldn't handle that kind of abuse, but something interesting was happening, and it was just about killing Jensen to be that close yet unable to touch them or even open his eyes and watch. And then Cougar—it had to be Cougar, though Jensen didn't know how he knew—let out a choked moan that went straight to Jensen's dick, and he just snapped.

"Okay, that's it!" he said, throwing his covers back and sitting up. Clay and Cougar turned to stare at him, and Jensen made himself focus on the spot directly over their heads rather than…anywhere else. "Either get out, or stop—" He made an expressive gesture "—long enough for me to leave. Clay, I don't care if you put me on latrine-digging duty for the next year for this. You can't just have sex when you're lying right next to someone unless he's along for the ride."

Cougar chuckled, and Clay grinned wickedly. "Hell, Jensen. I thought you'd never ask."