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social link GO?!!!

Wallabin's frankly boring visits were starting to become commonplace at the Gladsheim base; to the point where even Locke was getting dirty looks from the fellow soldiers. When he slanted his glance their way, they usually shut up their gossiping and returned to what they were doing, though. One would think they'd be used to it by now, but they didn't cease to find amusement in Locke running the duo around. (They always silenced themselves when Gearhorn turned up, though.)

Luckily for Weiler and Locke, they were allowed a break from Wallabin while he met with Gearhorn and several other officers. (More demands to be met, more money to be donated and the like, Locke was sure.) There weren't many safe places to talk on base, unfortunately. He didn't even trust his own quarters.

There was only one place that he knew would be safe, due to the sheer loud volume of it; the cantina. It was less than glamorous, and the drinks they had to offer were definitely not as exquisite as the bar they had gone to. The company even less so. It was with a little reluctance that Locke suggested it.

"We could kill some time at the cantina," he had said, "but I don't think you'll like it."

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Weiler's face fell into a look of utter disappointment, too quickly and too finely-tuned for it to have been real, but a good show of it nonetheless.

"I'll let you stand up for my maidenly honor?"

"Haven't I already done that?"

"You seem to enjoy it, so I thought I'd offer if you promised to ask someday," Weiler responded, grinning.

"Well, if you insist, I suppose I can."

"Wunderbar! I'll hold you to that!" He clapped his hands together once with a laugh. Hands still palm-to-palm, Weiler then lowered them into his lap, voice dropping lower in the way it did whenever he spoke about something that he didn't particularly want others to hear.

"But you know, I would not have thought you'd be so quick to jump to my defense. Being involved with me is not so great for the image you've got to uphold out here in the wild, no? That's risking an awful lot for little ol' me," he mused, ending in an exaggerated twang of another archaic accent that was difficult to place.

Locke gave him a baffled yet amused look for both his outburst and the accent, but upon answering the actual question, he looked elsewhere.

"I don't mind," he said, simple enough.

One brow raised and the other dipped at Locke's obvious aversion. "You don't?"

Locke glanced back at Weiler, looking him over in consideration. He could have left Weiler to his own devices, or not have defended him so aggressively. It was a little odd, he supposed, putting that much at risk over someone he'd only known for about two months. He hadn't really thought about it.

"No," he affirmed. "I look out for my own. The ones I like, at least." Locke smiled. "What would you have expected me to do?"

Weiler laughed, pulling back with a hand on his stomach. "Oh, I see," he chuckled. "You like me. That's right. I suppose lovers would do that, if we're really going to sell this."

Locke raised a brow. "Oh. I guess there's that, too."

Weiler raised a brow to meet it, looking neither pleased nor upset.

"Oh."

Then the other brow rose to meet that one, forming a look of intrigue.

"Really."

It was a rather silly sight, the two of them looking surprised at each other.

"What?"

Weiler leaned over the table, beckoning Locke closer. When the other man came forward, he cupped a hand over his mouth and spoke into his ear. "I was of the opinion that you thought you were working with a crazy man."

Locke smiled, leaning his own mouth to Weiler's ear. (It probably looked like some kind of lovers' sweet talk to onlookers- this was putting his reputation at stake.) "You have to be to work where we do, don't you think?"

"It is possible that you are just incredibly masochistic," Weiler replied, pulling back and entirely failing to whisper that one.

That got Weiler a flick on the nose himself.

"Only if you're into that."

Wrinkling his nose, Weiler pulled himself out of range, cleverer this time than the last. "It has nothing to do with me whether or not you enjoy being spanked now and then."

"It does if you enjoy doing the spanking."

There was a momentary pause as Weiler actually looked thoughtful at that. "That, also, depends on how nicely you ask."

Locke chuckled. "What's that phrase? Pretty please, with some kind of fruit on top?"

"Don't worry about that; you probably lost that ages ago," Weiler answered, smiling a lopsided smile. He followed it up with a quick quip: "But since you asked so nicely, just remind me if we ever get to the bedroom."

Thankfully, it seemed as though even their most antagonistic adversaries had stopped paying attention to their private conversation, caught up amidst themselves with some sort of debate about certain firearms having advantages over others - almost laughably stereotypical soldier fare. The rest of the canteen had also returned to their everyday conversations, attention at short enough supply that no one really bothered to waste it on a politician's assistant and a general's second-in-command seemingly flirting in the corner.

Otherwise, Locke's reputation might have suffered a little for that 'if.'

"Sheesh. At this rate I won't remember all the things I need to remind you I asked nicely for."

Just when things were getting rather comfortable - so Locke thought anyway - a beep came from his pocket. He pulled out the communicator, turning it front-side up. A message from Gearhorn popped up: Meeting room. Five minutes.

"Ah, it seems they're about done with their meeting. Shall we?"

Weiler pushed himself up with a nod.

"Can't keep a lady waiting," he agreed, standing and putting the crook of his arm out for Locke, the way a gentleman might for a lady to take.

Locke raised an eyebrow at the arm extended to him. He ignored it and put his arm around Weiler's shoulders instead.

"You're rather strange, Milo," he said, but not without a note of amusement.

"You're wrinkling my suit," Weiler complained with a sigh, though he didn't exactly step out of Locke's embrace, doing nothing more to fix his situation than to tighten his tie and pull it back to the center. "And not even in the fun way."

The pair attracted much less attention exiting the canteen than they did entering it - perhaps because a good majority of its patrons knew better, this time around. They made it to the door and then the hallway with no hitch whatsoever, and the quietness of the hall that greeted them once the entrance slid air-tight was almost jarring compared to the loud hum of yelling and laughing they had just left.

Weiler stepped out of the circle of Locke's arm. "But you know," he said suddenly but easily, as if continuing off a conversation they had never left, "I'm a big kid and all. You should protect your reputation before you try to protect me."

Locke could continue the mission without one, but not without the other.

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I'm making up an amount of time they've known each other now ok

two months sounds good

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