Page 103 of Men of Fort Dale: The Complete Series

He’d sent Marco a text about their plans before he headed back to the barracks to get cleaned up.

Dickhead kept me forever. I’m not gonna be there on time.

No worries ;) I can entertain myself for a while

Whatever. You better be there.

Lol. Don’t worry. Have a couple of friends here that I can talk to, no biggie .

Friends. Right. He supposed he could get over the friends, so long as they weren’t ‘friends.’

The thought brought him up short, and he shook his head with a snort. Was he really going to act like a dick because Marco wasn’t getting annoyed that he was going to be late? The guy wasn’t his...well, wasn’t his anything.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” he muttered to himself as he gathered his clothes for the night.

He’d had to take time the day before to go to where his things were stored to find the right clothes. Everything he had with him in the barracks wouldn’t have worked for his night with Marco.

And whatever they were doing, he didn’t have a title for it.

Didn’t want one either.

“What the fuck,” he muttered as he walked through the double doors of the club almost ninety minutes later.

Carter wasn’t exactly a stranger to clubs.

He knew how bright and loud they could be.

Marco had advised they go to Pulse, just one more bright and gaudy place, pumped full of flashing lights and overly loud music.

It was also packed full of people, squeezing in as close as they could get as they danced, shouted at each other in an attempt to converse, and squeezed into small booths that lined a raised walkway behind the dancefloor.

And he had no idea where Marco could be.

There was a group of tables to his right, where people had to stand to reach the tabletops.

Behind it was the bar, and Carter scanned each area to see if he could spot the man.

A sea of faces swam before him, but not one of them stuck out as he squinted, annoyance flashing through him as he realized how bad a plan it was to meet at the club instead of outside or somewhere else first.

He pushed through the crowd, pulling out his phone, hoping maybe Marco had seen his text saying he was on the way. Stopping near the dancefloor when he saw a message waiting for him, he swiped it open and read the two words.

Awesome! Dancing.

Carter turned, sweeping his eyes over the writhing crowd.

He was absolutely sure he was going to find Marco wrapped around someone else, looking like he was going to get fucked right there on the dancefloor.

His lip curled until his eyes happened upon one of the raised platforms that stood at each corner of the dancefloor.

There were fewer people up there, and while he thought it was the perfect place for the customary stripper pole, they were just platforms for people to dance on.

And there was Marco, dancing near one corner of the platform just opposite Carter. He was near other people while he danced, but no one had their hands on him, and he wasn’t wrapped around anyone else.

Carter barely acknowledged it when his face went slack. His arm dropped to his side, and he barely held his phone.

Whether or not it’s good dancing. Right.

Marco had chosen a bright red shirt with a low collar, which went brilliantly with his darker skin tone.

His shoulders weaved and bobbed smoothly as he twisted his hips, somehow looking like he was a part of the music instead of just moving to it.

Carter stood fixated, as he realized Marco had also chosen a brilliant pair of black denim pants.

They hugged the curve of his ass as it swung and flowed with each shift of his hips, and Carter felt his mouth go dry.

Then someone beside Marco leaned over and said something Carter couldn’t hear.

Marco’s rhythm stuttered, but that was okay because he tipped his head back and laughed.

Carter swore he could hear it from where he stood, knowing the sound would come from deep in his stomach and probably roll over the crowd if it wasn’t for the music.

Marco’s eyes were still crinkled with laughter when he dropped his head, turning his face to Carter. They widened, smile faltering for the briefest moment, and then he grinned. He leaned back, saying something to his friend, who grinned back, patted Marco on his side, and turned back to the crowd.

Twisting around, Marco hopped off the platform, swatting at a hand reaching out from the crowd. Carter’s face twisted into a glare as Marco darted away before the hand's owner could try again.

Oh yeah, he was definitely teaching Marco how to break a few body parts.

Marco hurried toward him, and his eyes widened as his feet found something on the carpet. Carter darted forward, grabbing Marco by the arm and jerking him upright before he could land face-first on the floor.

The man was laughing again as he stood straight. “Saving me again? You’re nice to have around, Carter.”

“Are you drunk already?” Carter snapped, ignoring the pleasant twist of his gut at the man’s words.

Marco shook his head, still grinning. “Nope, only had a couple of drinks. Surprise! I’m actually uncoordinated as hell and almost kill myself daily.”

“Uncoordinated?” Carter asked in annoyance before he could stop himself. “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Marco leaned in closer, brow bunching in curiosity. “What do you mean?”

Carter rolled his eyes, nodding his head toward the platform. “I saw that.”

“Me dancing?”

“Yeah.”

Marco grinned again. “Well, I guess you got to see me dance like you wanted to.”

“I never fucking said that,” Carter retorted, and it sounded lame even to his ear.

Marco leaned in closer so he could be heard a little more clearly. “Let’s get a drink and find somewhere we don’t have to scream to be heard.”

“Fine,” Carter barked back, shivering as Marco’s breath brushed his neck.

The bar was only a few yards from them, but it took as long as walking a city block to reach it through the crowd.

People brushed and bumped against him, and Carter resisted the urge to push them away.

It wasn’t any better when they had to wait what felt like an eternity for the most basic cocktail for Marco and a beer for Carter.

Then, they had to go through the process again to leave the bar area.

The only reason he didn’t end up shoving anyone was because Marco closed his hand around Carter’s wrist gently and pulled him through the crowd.

They stopped at one of the booths behind the dance floor. Marco had chosen well. It was a relatively quiet spot, with a partition between each booth, allowing for a bit of privacy and separating them from the blasting music.

Marco sat on the bench and scooted in so Carter would have a place to sit. Without thinking, he plopped down next to Marco so he could glare at his beer.

“Better?” Marco asked.

Carter looked up. “What?”

“You looked like you were ready to go somewhere with fewer people,” Marco said, dark eyes on his face.

Carter snorted, nodding his head. “Yeah. Guess I did. How’d you know?”

“You had this look on your face like you were ready to murder someone.”

“That’s just my face.”

“Nah, it’s a little different. It’s in the eyes.”

Carter rolled them. “How romantic.”

“Romantic would be telling you I like your eyes. Which is true, by the way.”

Carter squinted at him. “Are you sure you’re not drunk?”

Marco laughed. “Trust me, you’d know if I was drunk.”

Before Carter could think what to say, he felt Marco’s hand slip under the table. Confusion filled him when, instead of his thigh, Marco’s hand curled against his, twining their fingers together.

“Drunk,” Carter repeated.

“I had a couple of drinks and danced with my friends. Now, I get to spend the rest of my time with you. I’m not drunk, just in a really good mood.”

Carter scowled. “Remember when I told you that you have shit judgment?”

“I do. You were bruised and bleeding on the street after helping someone who needed it. I have to say, as far as first impressions go, that’s a pretty good one.”

Carter stared at him in bewilderment. While he was willing to accept Marco wasn’t drunk, he honestly had no idea where this sudden shift in personality had come from.

Then again.

He had to admit there had been something playful in Marco's actions. It was hidden behind quiet smiles and gentle laughter, but there had been a spark of something waiting to come out. Was that all it had taken to drag Marco out of whatever shell he’d wrapped around himself?

For Carter to ask him out for the night? Could it really be that easy?

“Did I break you?” Marco asked with a wicked grin.

“Fuck off,” Carter shot back gruffly.

“I mean, I could,” Marco said, leaning away slowly.

Before he could think about what he was doing, Carter wrapped his hand tighter around Marco’s so the man couldn’t escape.

An instant later, he was reminded that he’d practically broken a guy’s arm for doing the same thing.

It was gone almost immediately when Marco grinned knowingly at him and leaned back in, their shoulders brushing together.

“Fuck off,” Carter repeated, lacking any real heat.

“I’m glad your Sergeant decided to play nice. I’ll have to thank him,” Marco said.

Carter snorted. “If you make him think he’s doing anything nice for me, he’ll figure out how to take it away as quickly as possible.”

Marco’s eyes brightened with a delight Carter couldn’t understand.

That was until a moment later when he realized he’d just admitted that letting Carter come out with Marco was nice.

Carter barely managed the scowl he shot at Marco, already distracted by how often he must have done that before.

Because he sure as hell had seen that delight on Marco’s face in the past.

With a huff, he realized that maybe seeing it wasn’t such a bad thing.

“Marco?”

The loud voice brought their heads up to stare at the man standing in front of their table. Carter’s brow fell again into a heavy frown as he recognized the medic.