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Still Pink (Shout It From The Rooftops)

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It wasn't a toga, but the rainbow towel slung around Jensen's hips was attention-grabbing nonetheless. So was the fact that he burst into the common room of their hotel suite loudly singing.

"It's dead, it's dead, Don't Ask, Don't Tell is dead! It's dead, it's dead, the stupid rule is dead!"

"Jensen . . ." Pooch said warily.

"C'mon, everybody! It's dead, it's dead, Don't Ask, Don't Tell is dead! They'll be glad that they stopped kicking people out for being gay!"

Jensen concluded his song and dance with a twirl that sent his towel flapping open. The striped terrycloth hung in the air for a moment before dropping to the floor, and yep, there it was underneath, a triangular leather pouch held in place with elastic straps and when Jensen turned around to beam sunnily at Clay--full moon.

"Thanks for that." Pooch rolled his eyes and went back to his netbook.

"Oh come on. Aren't you guys even a little excited about this?"

"I'll be excited about you putting your towel back on."

"Yeah, it's great. Now American citizens don't have to pretend not to be queer in order to perpetuate imperialist interests and die in fraudulent wars." Clay never looked up from the knife he was sharpening over a dishcloth on the table by the window.

"And still not have their marriages recognized as legitimate."

"Yeah, well." Jensen pouted as he picked up the towel and tucked it back around his waist. "It's a start, okay? Incremental progress. Of course the struggle's not over, not by a long shot, but it's nice to celebrate the small victories sometimes, ya know? Give yourself some encouragement to keep on keeping on."

Pooch sighed and rubbed his scalp. Jensen had a point, of course. As rough as his life was today, it would have been a lot rougher if his parents and grandparents had just accepted the crap sandwich their country had handed them for lunch. Every step toward equality deserved celebration. "You know what, man? You're right. I'm sorry for being so cynical. DADT is history, that's good news."

"Aww," Jensen smiled. "I forgive you, cynical Pooch, and do you know why? It's 'cause I see your truuuue colors shining through! I see your truuuue colors, that's why I love--"

"I have a sharp object in my hand," Clay snapped. "Are you sure you want to be singing so close to me?"

"Grouch." Pooch got up off the couch and stretched, holding out a hand to Jensen. "Come on, let's get Cougar and go find a victory party."