Love is Always Write Anthology Bonus Volume

drifted into the turret, acrid and sharp. Daniel blinked his smarting eyes and coughed. No one turned, no one faltered. Crank, match, wait for the damned buzzer, where's the damned buzzer– thank you, pull. He coughed again, more harshly. Around him others were doing the same. If there was fire threatening them, someone would have to say the word. Until then, they would do the job.
    The smoke thickened, taking on a harsh odor, then gradually thinned again. The salvos from the other guns were more ragged but they still sounded complete. Then Lieutenant Sherman at the turret periscope said, "Got lots of flames and smoke. We hit something on that Jap."
    Someone whooped, ending in a cough. Daniel braced for the next salvo. And then gasped and leaned against his wheels in boneless relief as the "Cease Fire" order came. Sherman moved far enough to call down to the gun chamber, "We pounded the hell out of them." The men below raised a cheer. Daniel slid out of his seat for a moment and stretched, opening and closing his hands to uncramp his fingers.
    Around him people were talking, the officers giving orders and asking about damage, the men complaining and gloating in equal measure. It sounded like the damage control teams were busy. The damned smoke had to be coming from somewhere but no one was running out of their turret. So wherever the fire was, it was hopefully far enough away from their share of the powder. Daniel rubbed his arm across his face, shoving his hair back irritably. It was getting too long, always in his face in the heat. He needed to find the barber soon and get it cut.
    Sherman was back at the periscope, giving a play-by-play of the Jap cruiser, which was apparently staggering away trailing smoke. Betting had sprung up immediately on whether she would sink before she was out of sight or not. Daniel just shook his head good-naturedly at Geoff, declining the bet. He'd learned fast that sailors would bet on almost anything, but he kept his hard-earned money for the kind of bet he could control. Like poker.
    Or for important stuff, like renting a hotel room. He let his mind drift to last night and the airless hot locker that was the best place he'd ever been in his life. A louder cheer rose from behind him but he ignored it. Ignored both parts of his brain, the one that was cheering the hits on the Japs, and the one that all-too-clearly recalled a crippled ship and flame and water and the screams of dying men. It was war. They were the enemy. This was payback, not a reason to hate his hands for pulling that trigger. He rubbed his stiff fingers together.
    Jacob. Think of Jacob. Lucky bastard was probably far more comfortable than Daniel right now. Sickbay was the only part of the ship that had air-conditioning. Not that Jacob would necessarily be there if there were wounded men elsewhere on the ship. He might be wherever the fire was. Might even now be... No, last night. Think about last night.
    That had been something else. A man's hands, a man's mouth. No, not any man's. Jacob's. With that shy smile and the dark eyes and that quick brain.
    Daniel tried to laugh at himself. Like a guy's brain mattered when he was touching you and bringing you off. But it did, because that was Jacob. And somehow Daniel was sure it wouldn't have been like that, wouldn't have shaken him to his heart's depth like that, if it had been any other man. He remembered the neighbor's barn, the smell of hay and the slanted sunlight and two eager boys. Those past fumbling moments with Stuart, as heart pounding as they had been, were a superficial thing. A matter of opportunity and hard dicks, and the growing realization of why nothing else had felt right. But being with Stuart had barely touched the surface of Daniel's desires. One hour with Jacob had buried in deep.
    This was dumb. It was stupid to get involved with someone, to care about anyone in this soul-numbing war. That was like opening yourself up to be flayed. And yet how could you help it? They were all closer than brothers, these men he fought beside. And that one man, well, there was nothing brotherly going on there.
    As the ringing in his ears eased, Daniel could hear running and purposeful shouting outside the turret. Damage control, getting a fire under wraps. He eased back into his seat, but crossed his arms, tucking his shaking hands under his armpits. He envied those men their purpose, to repair and not to deliver flaming death with the crook of one finger. He'd