In the wake of
this piece, though I ran out of words long before I got to this point in plot.
"Not a bad day's work, Sergeant," the squirrel said, reaching up to clap Dak on the shoulder. "I know you never once pulled the trigger, but I'm glad you were there. And there's no squad I'd rather have by my side."
He did not, Dak noticed, take his hand away. The wolverine smiled. "Glad to be there, Lieutenant. About time that bunch got what was coming from them."
"Just so." Joraquin's fingers squeezed down a little. "Any chance I could interest you in a bit of a private celebration? You, me, and a week's liquor ration in my quarters?"
Dak met the squirrel's earnest gaze, gave the hand on his shoulder a pat, and sighed. "I'm flattered - really - and if I'd already been drunk I'd probably have gone along with it, and no regrets. But alcohol aside, I'm straight." Keeping a few 'sirs' from slipping into that speech was surprisingly hard.
"Oh. My mistake." Joraquin gave him a wan smile; there was real fondness and admiration in that gaze, not just the longings of the moment. "Sorry to put you on the spot. I knew it was a long shot, but..."
"Hey, it's okay." Dak gave the squirrel's hand one last pat, then let it slip away. "I'll take it as a high compliment."
"Do that," Joraquin said, and started to turn away. "Have a good night, Sergeant."
Seized by sudden curiosity, Dak caught the smaller man's shoulder. "Hey, Arven?"
Joraquin looked over his shoulder. "Yeah?"
A grin stole onto the wolverine's muzzle. "Think I'd have rocked your world?"
A sigh - a husky, needy sort of sigh. "Beyond a doubt."
"Hold onto that image," Dak suggested, and let him go. "Rub out a good one, huh?"
The squirrel grinned. "I think I'd better," he admitted, and disappeared into his private quarters.