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“Sheesh. The munchkin is gone for two minutes and you’re already back to swearing like a sailor.”
“In case you forgot, I am, in fact, a sailor.”
Chas rolled his eyes and laughed. “Did you like being in the Navy?”
“The general Navy is okay. Being a SEAL is nothing like that.”
“What’s it like being a SEAL?”
Gunner frowned, searching for words. It wasn’t something he’d ever talked about. He just did it, and everyone he worked with just did it too. “It’s… hard. Every day is hard. New challenges, new things to learn, new problems to solve. It’s a constant fight to be stronger, faster, better, stay healthy, ignore pain.”
“It sounds miserable.”
Gunner shrugged. “I guess it would be for most people.”
“What does that say about you, then? Do you have a mile-wide masochistic streak I don’t know about?”
“No. Although I admit, I wondered about that during BUD/S.”
“What does that stand for? ‘Beating up dumbsquats’?”
Gunner grinned. “Basic Underwater Demolition/SEAL. It’s the initial training course to become a SEAL. It was… not fun.”
“Then why put yourself through all of that? Were you punishing yourself or something?”
The notion startled him. “Not that I’m aware of. It was a challenge. A personal mountain to climb. And it looked like interesting work. The kind of job that would be all-consuming.”
“So much that you would never have time to stop and admit to yourself that you were gay?”
“Damn, Chas. Do you have to dissect me like some dead animal?”
Chas sat back, looking smug.
“Fuck off,” Gunner mumbled with no heat.
“Right back atchya, big guy.”
“So why are you a kindergarten teacher? On the list of most masochistic professions, that has to rank high.”
“Why do you say that?” Chas asked, sounding surprised.
“Screaming kids running all over the place. You’re basically babysitting twenty heathens all day long.” He shuddered just thinking of it.
“Aww, they’re not that bad. You do have to establish authority with them right away, of course, and it takes a world of patience. But they’re fun. They’re still innocent at that age. The world is still a good place for most of them. I enjoy their optimism and enthusiasm. Five-year-olds aren’t self-conscious yet. If you ask them who can sing or dance, they all raise their hands. I love nurturing that. And they’re endlessly curious—” He broke off. “Sorry. Little kids get a bad rap. It’s a pet peeve of mine.”
“You sound pretty passionate about your work.”
“I am. It’s exhausting, but I love it.”
Gunner nodded. “I would say the same about my job.”
“How homophobic are the SEALs these days?”
“That’s a hard question to answer.”
“Try.”
“Most guys don’t give a damn who anyone else sleeps with. But SEALs do live in extremely close quarters with each other. We eat, sleep, bathe, and shit—sorry—literally shoulder to shoulder with each another sometimes. If a guy is the least bit hinky about being around a gay man, living in such close quarters could be a personal nightmare. And the guys in a platoon have to depend so completely on one another—our lives depend upon our brothers—that any disruption to that total trust is a huge problem.”