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this, no doubt about it.
     But he threw himself forward into a kind of an awkward run as they landed, letting the motion push him forward instead of resisting and trying to stick the dismount. It was fugly, but it worked, and he and Izzy ended up in a tangle on the rocky desert ground with a relatively small amount of scrapes and bruises.
     “Fuck!” Tony heard Chief Lopez utter a rare-for-him obscenity, followed by several strongly worded statements in Spanish.
     “No,” Tony assured the chief as he released the reserve chute, ensuring that a gust of wind wouldn’t drag them any farther. “We’re okay. Repeat, we’re okay.” He and Izzy just lay there for a moment, catching their breath, vomit covered, but fantastically, gloriously alive.
     “Fuck,” Lopez breathed again, more quietly this time as he crawled toward Tony and Izzy.
     In fact, if Tony hadn’t still been connected to Izzy via a collection of bungee cords, he would’ve gone to assist the chief, who was clearly dragging his right leg behind him.
     “Portable hyperbaric tanks are on their way,” Lopez said as he helped them unhook from one another.
     “And the pizza?” Izzy asked, still lying on his back. He turned his head to look at Tony. “I ordered us a coupla pizzas, too. Extra cheese. We might want to shower first, though.” But then he noticed Lopez wince. “You okay, bro? Chief ?” He laughed. “Gotta get used to that.”
     The chief smiled tightly at them both. “I was a little too focused on your landing instead of mine.”
     Izzy pushed himself up slightly, narrowing his eyes. “Ankle or knee?” he asked.
     “Knee,” Lopez admitted. “But I’ll be all right. As far as potential injuries go, this is minor.”
     Izzy nodded, but it was clear he didn’t believe Lopez. Tony didn’t either—the man was obviously hurt. But everyone handled pain in their own way, and he knew that what Jay Lopez needed right now was for them to cosign his bullshit.
     Again, they all just lay there for a moment, looking up at the sky. Tony could just barely make out the stack of HAHO canopies—the other SEALs—floating into view.
     “So what the hell happened?” he asked, and as the words came out of his mouth, he knew the answer. There was only one good reason he’d be hooked into Izzy’s O2.
     “Your oxygen failed,” Izzy said, adding, “No biggie.”
     More bullshit to tie up with a neat bow. But okay. The no biggie route was exactly how he himself would’ve reported this incident to Adam, early on in their relationship.
     But Adam had made it clear, also early on, that no biggie would not fly.
     “I hope,” Izzy mused, as Tony sat up and started peeling off his soiled uniform shirt, “they bring beer with that pizza, because the inside of my mouth tastes like ass.”
     “Pizza after hyperbaric decompression,” Lopez reminded him, and then sat up, too, as the chatter from a distant but approaching helo got gradually louder. He dug for a bottle of water and handed it to Izzy, who used the first spray to rinse and spit before passing it on to Tony.
     “A man can dream,” Izzy said, then broke into song. “ Sometimes, all I need is a pizza to eat! ” He laughed. “Sorry. Song’s stuck in my head. Pizza is, too, but pizza generally takes up a lotta real estate when I’m this hungry, post breakfast-giveback.”
     Tony laughed as he handed the water bottle back to Izzy. But when the big SEAL reached for it, Tony hung on, forcing eye contact.
     “Seriously,” Tony said. “How bad was it?”
     Izzy just shook his head—it was clear he was sticking with his no biggie reality. It was the Chief who quietly said, “You and Adam might want to consider naming your firstborn Irving .”
     “God, no,” Izzy said, recoiling. “Not only is that child abuse—and trust me, I know. But we’re even. I helped you, you helped me. And here we are. On the ground and unharmed. That’s how this works.”
     But Tony