#every man except Eugene should go home and try again | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

freebooter4ever · 3 years

Text

Sequel to Caboose

@s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r requested “desperate train sex” after reading this slightly enemies to lovers fic about Eugene building up the sexual tension with Snafu on the Caboose during their train ride home. The first part of this next chapter is all awkward feelings and shower sex on a train. I might have made it a tad over dramatic, you’ll have to let me know. The very end part with the parrot has already been posted here but I thought I would repost it all together. Read on to let Snafu and Gene finally resolve that tension!

Snafu lies on the floor of the caboose deck for longer than he probably should. He feels drained, and he's desperately waiting, hoping for Eugene to return.

Eugene doesn't return.

Snafu drags himself off the floor, and finally goes inside alone.

"You okay, Snaf?" Burgie asks when Snafu slinks into the seat opposite him, "You disappeared for a bit there."

Snafu sneaks a quick look at the culprit he's sitting beside.

Eugene refuses to make eye contact and conspires to appear completely innocent. As if Snafu isn't still wearing the taste of whatever lip balm Eugene uses.

"I'm fine," Snafu mumbles. He 'accidentally' kicks Eugene's foot when he settles into his seat.

Eugene doesn't even glance up from his journal.

"What're you writing?" Snafu asks him. Snafu swipes his tongue across his bottom lip. The residue there is sticky, and sweet.

"A letter," Eugene blatantly lies. He stares at Snafu's tongue for a minute too long.

"You're writing a letter in a journal?" Snafu asks, "What are you gonna do...rip the pages out when you're done or something? Or mail the whole book?"

"Leave me alone, Snafu," Eugene sighs.

"Leave you alone, leave the girls alone…is there anyone I'm allowed to talk to?" Snafu prods.

This question is what drives Eugene to finally make eye contact with Snafu. And when he does, he glares.

Snafu grins in return and sinks further into his seat. He stares idly out the window for a minute, but Eugene's pen going 'scritch scritch scritch' in the corner of his vision is too distracting. Of course Eugene would claim the window seat and spend the time scribbling away.

"I can't look out the window with you writing like that," Snafu complains.

"I'm not gonna stop writing," Eugene snaps, "So quit your complaining."

"You could at least give me the window seat, so I could enjoy the view uninterrupted," Snafu points out.

"I need the window for better light," Eugene argues.

"Your eyes already going bad, old man?" Snafu grins.

"I'm two years younger than you…" Eugene sighs.

"Yeah but I don't do all that reading," Snafu says wisely, "They say reading destroys your eyesight."

"That's a myth," Eugene claims, "As bad as your heebie-jeebies."

"Says who?" Snafu lifts his chin in defiance.

"My father's a doctor, Snafu," Eugene sighs again.

"Yeah, an internist," Snafu says, "Not an eye doctor."

Eugene looks sharp at him again.

"See, told ya I pay attention to all your ramblings," Snafu shakes his head gravely.

"I'm not giving you the window seat," Eugene concludes stubbornly.

Snafu opens his mouth to start the argument again but Burgie interrupts him first.

"Snafu there is a perfectly good window seat right here beside me," Burgie pats the bench next to him, "You don't need to antagonize Eugene."

Both Snafu and Eugene abruptly turn guiltily towards Burgie after he drops that particular word. Earlier Eugene had accused Snafu of antagonizing every girl on the train. And now here Snafu is again...antagonizing Eugene. Snafu shuts up, feeling caught. He eyes Eugene furtively and watches Eugene's face go from shock to embarrassment. Eugene is clearly realizing that he could be considered one of "Snafu's girls".

Of course, Eugene is easily the most feisty out of anyone Snafu has met...ever. Eugene's got the best reactions to Snafu riling him up. Not that Snafu can openly tell Gene this with Burgie sitting right there.

"He's not antagonizing me," Eugene insists quietly and then buries his nose back in his journal.

"I'm good. Sitting here," Snafu agrees with a shrug, "Don't need to move." And he pushes further into his seat, as if he can become an immovable part of the cushion.

Except Snafu is not 'good'. Snafu is restless. Eugene is there beside him...all stiff and sitting properly, his beautifully long neck arched like a swan, with singular focus on his writing. Snaf is barely two inches away, but is unable to touch him. He wants to run his mouth up that neck. And now that Snafu knows exactly how pliant Eugene's stupid thin lips are, he finds them impossible to resist.

Imagine being able to spend the whole train ride making out. Three whole days, with nothing to do but kiss Gene. Snafu closes his eyes and briefly indulges in this fantasy. Then Eugene coughs and shifts restlessly in his seat till his thigh budges up against Snafu's and Snafu is drawn out of his idle daydreams.

Clearly he's not the only one itching over not being able to touch.

Snafu starts jiggling his leg up and down involuntarily. He runs a hand through his hair, forgetting that he had styled it earlier. His hand comes out slightly wet and he can feel his hair poke out at odd angles.

'Jiggle, jiggle, jiggle,' goes Snafu's anxious knee.

Eugene's hand clamps down on Snafu's thigh and forces Snafu's foot flat to the ground. He effectively stops the jiggling.

They stare at each other as if both of them are surprised that Eugene had the gall to do that.

Burgie clears his throat.

Snafu hastily stands from his seat and knocks Eugene's hand off.

"Gonna sit by the window," Snafu explains and he scoots between Burgie's and Eugene's legs to sit in the spot across from Eugene. Maybe if he can stare at Eugene longingly with an unobstructed view, it will calm his need to touch.

Snafu lasts for all of five minutes before he realizes the view only makes it worse.

Eugene keeps glancing at Snafu from under his eyelashes in between fevered writing stints, so Snafu knows he really, really isn't the only one having this problem.

Snafu decides to solve it with a nap. He wiggles out of his jacket and props it against the window as a pillow.

"Why move to the window if you're only going to sleep rather than enjoy the view?" Eugene asks snidely.

Snafu glares at him and sits upright again. "Too damn cold against the glass, anyway," Snafu says. He looks around the car, desperate for an idea - something, anything.

Meanwhile Burgie peacefully reads his book, oblivious.

In a fit of inspiration, Snafu notes that everywhere in the passenger car Marines are sleeping on one another haphazardly. He doesn't know why he didn't think of this earlier. Eugene's used Snafu as a pillow plenty of times before, and Snafu's slept on Burgie more times than he can count.

Snafu shoots up from his seat. "Need a nap," he says and scoots back through Burgie and Eugene's legs. He plops down next to Eugene and shoves his wadded jacket into the crook of Eugene's neck. Then, before Eugene can protest, Snafu leans against the other guy, lays his head down on Eugene's shoulder, and pretends to go to sleep.

Burgie continues to read quietly.

"It's cold," Snafu whines and snuggles closer into Eugene's side. His hand slips enough that his pinky makes contact with Eugene's belt. Snafu wants to dig underneath that belt and push his fingers possessively inside Eugene's pants, and fall asleep like that, just because he can. Because Eugene would let him.

"I thought you were boiling hot?" Eugene reminds him.

Snafu glares at him. Whose side is he on, anyway?

Burgie hops up, grabs a blanket from the overhead rack, and tosses it at Snafu's head. "Sleep," Burgie orders, "Maybe then we will have some peace."

Snafu gratefully catches the blanket and throws it over himself. A corner of the blanket lands across Eugene's journal.

Eugene sighs heavily. He twitches the blanket away.

But that leaves a gap for cold air to seep through. Snafu twitches the blanket back in place.

"Well," Eugene says with resignation, "Guess we are napping now." He neatly stows away his journal and tugs the blanket to cover himself as well.

Securely hidden under the blanket, Snafu reaches blindly for Gene's hands. Eugene reaches back and they find each other somewhere around Eugene's left thigh. They twine their hands together and hold on tight.

There's no questioning, there's no shyness when they grab hold. Each of them knew exactly what the other wanted. That calming, quiet security of knowing the other person is feeling equally as much. Too much to hold it all in. Every bit of Snafu's riled up emotions are pouring into Eugene through his hands, and Snafu swears he can feel Eugene's coming back to him.

Eugene settles his head against the seat with a contented sigh, looking relaxed for the first time since Snafu sat down. Snafu cautiously looks up at him to see a small smile on Gene's face.

Carefully, so as not to move the blanket too much, Snafu turns Eugene's arm over and wiggles his fingers free from Gene's grasp. He spreads Eugene's hand out and then uses his own finger to draw a heart on Eugene's warm palm. He traces the heart a couple times to make sure Eugene gets the idea.

Eugene's hand closes around Snafu's finger and gives it an answering squeeze. Eugene then takes hold of Snafu's arm and draws a heart of his own on Snafu's palm.

Satisfied, Snafu goes back to holding both Eugene's hands and tries desperately to keep a stupid smile off his face. "Got you to stop writing," Snafu says triumphantly with his head resting next to Eugene's ear.

Eugene pinches Snafu hard in the tender flesh between thumb and fingers. It's extra painful since Eugene's fingernails have grown a little long post VJ day.

All Snafu can do is wince and wiggle in his seat, trying not to give away the fact that their hands are interlocked under the blanket.

Eugene squeezes his hand again as if to forgive Snafu for his annoying neverending pastime of trying to rile Eugene up, and then they settle comfortably into one another.

"Don't drool on my uniform," Eugene requests before Snafu drifts off to sleep.

Guess what Snafu does.

He wakes with a jerk as the train lurches over an uneven track. A thin trail of drool stretches from Snafu's chin to Eugene's shoulder. Snafu must have been sleeping extremely heavily.

"Morning sleeping beauty," Burgie says.

"It's morning?" Snafu asks groggily.

"Yup, you two slept through the night," Burgie says, a twinkle in his eye, "Almost twelve hours. I think you set a record."

"Fuck," Snafu drops his head back onto Eugene's shoulder. If he sits up any farther he'll have to let go of Eugene's hands still entwined in his.

Eugene sleeps on, like a rock.

"Eugene snores," Burgie announces. He seems to be sharing an inside joke with himself, "That's what woke you up. A particularly loud snore."

"Huh," Snafu says, "I thought the train went over a rock maybe."

"Nope, Eugene made that noise," Burgie tells him.

"Huh," Snafu says.

"Guess you guys'll have to suss out a solution to that once you two get your own place together," Burgie says.

It takes a minute for Burgie's words to set in. Then Snafu glances at him sharply. But Burgie simply sits there with his book, looking as sweet as ever. Snafu decides he's gonna go back to sleep and he snuggles comfortably back into Eugene's side.

And of course Eugene chooses that minute to wake up. Eugene doesn't move, he doesn't open his eyes, but he caresses Snafu's hand in a way that has Snafu wide awake instantly. And then he slowly, excruciatingly slowly, moves their clasped hands further down into Eugene's lap under the blanket. Where Eugene is rock hard.

"Jesus," Snafu breathes.

"What?" Burgie asks.

Snafu remembers that for all appearances Eugene is still asleep. And not secretly pressing Snafu's palm to his morning wood. Snafu snatches his hand back and hastily detangles himself from both Eugene and the blanket. "Nothing," Snafu says grumpily.

Eugene makes a show of "waking up" and calmly stretching. He keeps the blanket covering his lap.

Snafu draws his knees up to his chest and forces his mind to concentrate on anything other than the man sitting next to him.

"Snafu you drooled on me, didn't you," Eugene accuses. He pokes at the wet spot on his uniform.

"It was either that or drool over you," Snafu comments fairly. He lolls his head back on his seat, rolls his eyes to the ceiling and tries to look bored.

"Ugh. I hate waking up without fresh clothes to change into," Eugene wrinkles that perfect nose of his, "Thought those days were behind us."

"Still one more," Burgie says brightly.

"Yeah, one day for you," Snafu laughs, "We've got two."

"Two and a half on the train for me," Eugene sighs, "Three more mornings in this smelly uniform."

"I don't smell anything," Snafu reassures him.

"That's cause your stench covers everything within a half mile radius, Snaf," Eugene says.

Snafu scowls at Eugene, "You weren't complaining 'bout it on the back of the caboose."

"The breeze helped there," Eugene counters, quick as if he had it ready on the tip of his tongue.

Snafu can see a tiny grin under his casually blank expression. Eugene knows he is ticking Snafu off, and Eugene is enjoying it. But Snafu bets that if he helped Eugene out with his morning wood situation, Eugene wouldn't be half so picky about his smell.

Like a lightning bolt, Snafu is hit with inspiration. "You know...I hear the sleeper cars got showers," he says slyly, trying not to make eye contact with Gene.

"Really?" Eugene asks eagerly. Maybe a bit more eager than he normally would be. More eager than he should be.

"Yeah," Snafu smiles broadly, "We're moving up in the world. We're on one of those fancy trains. Running water and everything."

"Do you know which direction the sleeper cars are?" Eugene asks. He's already sitting up and looking perky, despite the morning hour.

"Towards the front, I think," Snafu replies.

Eugene stands and moves to the center aisle. And then pauses, rethinks his goal, and leans down towards Snafu, resting his arm behind Snaf's shoulders. "Hey," Eugene muses, "Maybe you should come with me. I might get lost."

"Snafu is not the one I would look to for directions," Burgie warns casually.

"Hey!" Snafu protests.

"You forget, I went through bootcamp with you, Snaf," Burgie says, "Where everyone learned to never leave you in charge of a map."

"It's a train," Snafu scowls, "You go one way and if you hit the end, you turn around and go the other way. How hard can it be?"

"Guess Sledgehammer can find his way on his own, then," Burgie says.

This leaves both Snafu and Sledge speechless. They stay in awkward silence while Snafu tries to come up with an excuse.

"Well yes. Except...," Eugene says as he gazes soulfully down at Snafu, "...now that I'm standing here, getting pretty close to him, I can honestly say Snaf smells awful, if anyone needs a shower, it's him," Eugene points out, "He should come with me."

Snafu sniffs his armpit. He makes a face. "Sledgehammer's right."

"C'mon, we'll find the sleeper cars," Eugene announces and drags Snafu along behind him by the sleeve of his uniform.

Luckily it doesn't actually take them long to find the sleeper car at the very front of the train. And it takes even less time to locate the blessedly empty shower compartment. Eugene shoves Snafu into the changing room space and squeezes in behind him. There's barely enough room for one man, let alone two.

The tight squeeze isn't too much of a hardship as Snafu doesn't mind being squished up between the wall and Gene's body as Eugene boldly rips Snafu's uniform off him.

"Better not actually tear my shirt, I do have to wear it two more days," Snafu warns him with false sincerity.

"Oh, like you care," Eugene says sarcastically and pushes Snafu's pants down around his ankles.

And it's true, Snafu does not care about a few rips in his button holes. Definitely not when Eugene is touching him, and kissing his bare chest.

"You don't eat enough," Eugene comments in between kisses. He runs his thumb down Snafu's side, hitting each individual rib as he goes. He crouches down and kisses Snafu's stomach, right below his sternum, between the apex of his ribs.

"I smoke too much," Snafu counters, his voice husky. He gets his hands in Eugene's hair and nudges Eugene's head down further. "A little lower, Sledge," he says and throws Eugene a smile and wink. He tries to put a bit of distance in his voice, as if all he wants out of this is Eugene's mouth on his dick.

Eugene looks up at Snafu from under his lashes. Rather than following Snafu's suggestion, Eugene playfully changes course and mouths over to Snafu's nipple. One tweak of Eugene's lips and Snafu is reflexively jutting his hips into Eugene's body. "I'll have to help you quit," Eugene mumbles, "The smoking, I mean."

"You stickin around for that long?" Snafu asks, well aware that his type tends to leave once the sex is over with.

Eugene takes his mouth off Snafu's nipple, and straightens up to look Snafu in the eye. "Of course," he says, "Why wouldn't I?"

Suddenly feeling flustered at Eugene's very serious and easily given commitment, Snafu ducks his head and focuses on kicking his boots off. "Sure you will," Snafu says disbelievingly.

"Snafu," Eugene sighs, "We've been together this long, might as well see it through to the end. I lied to Burgie back there. I've spent so long living with your constant presence, I don't even smell you anymore." Eugene sounds slightly grossed out by this fact. He pushes his face into Snafu's neck and takes a deep breath. At the same time he gets his hands around Snafu's ass and grinds their hips together. "I can certainly feel you," Gene says with a smirk.

Snafu tries to respond in kind. His leg bounces forward on it's own accord, giving Gene more access to rut against him. Caught up in his own enthusiasm, Snafu's foot catches on his pants hanging loose around his ankles, and he almost falls over. Luckily the shower dressing room is cramped enough he simply rams into the wall.

Eugene chuckles at him and holds Snafu's elbows to keep Snafu upright while he angrily shakes his foot out of his stupidly tight uniform.

"Why are you still dressed while I'm butt naked?" Snafu glares at Eugene.

"Cause you havent taken anything off me yet," Eugene answers, smug.

"That's my responsibility now?" Snafu asks.

"Mhmm," Eugene hums as he leans in close once more and rests their foreheads together. Eugene's hands run up around Snafu's ribcage, to his shoulders, and down to his waist again rhythmically as if Eugene is trying to memorize his form.

"You sure took my clothes off fast," Snafu notes. He initially thought Eugene was gonna take him in a rush, with the way Gene fought to free Snafu from his pants.

"I wanted to admire you," Eugene says, with his gentle hands doing every bit of that admiring.

Damn artist boy. "We've been naked together in the showers plenty of times, Gene," Snafu whines, ready to get down to the good stuff, "Nothing you haven't seen before."

"Not like this," Eugene argues. He runs his hand down Snafu's stomach, and finally to his groin. "I couldn't take my time to look then. I couldn't touch you then. You know, I never told you, but I find Snafu's pecker awfully beautiful," Eugene adds, as if Snafu's dick should be framed and hung in a museum rather than hung between his legs or hung as stars in the sky.

Snafu swells with pride. He puffs up his chest and bucks his hips against Eugene's. "Looks like Snafu's pecker is angling up again," he announces, "All for you this time."

"I can tell," Eugene grins and he kisses a sensitive spot on Snafu's neck that almost sends Snafu's senseless.

Snafu kinda wishes Eugene complimenting his dick didn't make him as weak as he feels. Like putty in Eugene's hands. Like if Eugene jerks him off right now, it won't even take too long and then Eugene can go back to admiring Snafu all he damn well pleases.

Eugene laughs in Snafu's ear and Snafu realizes he might have been babbling out loud.

"What if I enjoy admiring you like this? Maybe I don't want it to end just yet," Eugene teases and pauses his hand's movement over Snafu's dick, "You act all haughty like you don't need anyone, but now…"

"Fuck, Gene," Snafu groans, canting his hips desperately, willing to do almost anything, "You're right..."

"Right about what?" Eugene asks with his know-it-all smirk. He moves his hands around to Snafu's ass and leans on him, pressing him into the wall.

"I need you…" Snafu admits, grinding against Gene's leg.

Eugene's fingers dig into the flesh of Snafu's butt and he holds Snafu tight against his body, not allowing him to move even a tiny wiggle.

"Gene…" Snafu groans, "How many times do I have to…?"

"Beg," Eugene orders, his voice and warm breath on Snafu's ear.

That sends an odd chill down Snafu's spine. "Fuck," Snafu complains, "No!" He pushes out of Eugene's grip and shoves Eugene against the opposite wall. "Asshole," Snafu tells him.

But Eugene is smiling. He's got such an innocent, teasing smile. His smile knows something Snafu doesn't. Almost as if this is some inside joke between them. Except if there is a joke, it's gone over Snafu's head.

Eugene's eyes glitter as he looks at Snafu. In fact, his entire body lights up, like he worships the ground Snafu walks on. A truth Snafu is painfully aware of given the number of times Eugene unquestionably obeyed Snafu's orders during the war. He'd follow Snafu into anything, even this. Whatever this is.

Eugene's erection is outlined in his pants. He wants this as much as Snafu does. If it is true that Snafu corrupted Eugene, he's corrupted him fully.

"Show me how you do it," Eugene suggests.

"What?" Snafu asks with confusion. He's about ready to gather his clothes and leave - abandon Eugene hard and wanting in the bathroom just like Eugene left him on the caboose floor.

"I want to make you feel good, so…show me what you do," Eugene gestures to Snafu's dick.

"It's not rocket science," Snafu shakes his head.

"I know, but I want to watch you," Eugene says.

So Snafu saunters over closer to Eugene. He lifts his chin high and places one hand against the wall over Eugene's shoulder. Snafu's other hand takes hold of his dick and starts to masturbate. All while staring Eugene straight in the eye. To Snafu's surprise, Eugene doesn't look away.

"Thought you were gonna watch and learn," Snafu gripes and nods down at his crotch, where Eugene's eyes should be.

"I am learning," Eugene says. He places his hands tenderly on either side of Snafu's cheeks and cradles his head. He keeps gazing into Snafu's eyes which somehow makes Snafu even more fucking turned on than he already is.

"Oh hell," Snafu whines.

Eugene kisses him. Gene kisses him and then slides his hands down Snafu's body and takes over in jerking Snafu off just as Snafu is about to come.

"Ohhhh," Snafu moans. He grabs Eugene's head and fucking devours him, pouring every bit of unreleased sexual tension into the kiss.

Gene inches Snafu closer and closer to the edge till…"Sledgehammer, I'm gonna…"

Eugene smiles proudly and speeds up with encouragement from Snafu, but he warns, "If you dare get my uniform dirty…"

"Fuck you, Sledge," Snafu bites his lip and fumbles Eugene's hands out of the way. Snafu gets there just in time. He comes with gusto, spilling all over his own hands. But thankfully, only in his hands. He drops his head to Eugene's shoulder and pants. He feels a bit stunned.

Eugene rubs his back comfortingly, but Snafu barely feels it.

Once Snafu's collected himself, he leans back and holds his hands up for inspection. "See, not a single drop on your precious jacket," Snafu brags obnoxiously.

Eugene laughs and drags him into another kiss.

"Jesus, Gene!" Snafu protests, "Let me wash my hands first so I can touch you again and not smear cum everywhere!"

But Eugene won't take his lips off him.

Again, not that Snafu is complaining or anything. But it's a bit of a struggle to slide under Eugene's arm and grope for the sink faucets. His face still suctioned to Eugene's, Snafu blindly shoves his hands under the water and slaps them around to get all his spunk off.

Eugene wraps a hug around Snaf from behind, kissing his neck and chuckling at their reflection. "You cut the finest figure I have ever seen," Eugene whispers. He runs his hands down Snafu's abdominal V, and rests them right over his groin.

"Yeah, and how many figures have you seen?" Snafu is sarcastic, "One?"

"I've made quite the study of it," Eugene insists.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mhmm," Eugene says, "I've studied all the old masters' anatomy sketches - Da Vinci, Michelangelo…"

"That gay painter?" Snafu pipes up.

"What?" Eugene asks.

"Michelangelo, the guy who wrote love poems to his male nude models?" Snafu says.

"I don't know anything about that…"

"Da Vinci was gay too…" Snafu says, relishing in Eugene's obvious discomfort.

"How can you be sure of any of this?" Eugene asks.

"Oh please, you think gay erotica is easy to come by in New Orleans?" Snafu laughs, "You weren't the only one reading books on the 'Old Masters' anatomy studies. But for me it wasn't so much reading as it was a lot of looking. Checked 'em out from the library all the time, just not for your reasons." He leans back into Eugene's touch and smirks at Gene in the mirror, "Or maybe exactly for your reasons?"

"I…" Eugene is blushing, "I thought it was a coincidence."

"What? That these raunchy old dudes filled up pages and pages of meticulously detailed male nude drawings? Drawings that maybe turned you on?" Snafu asks.

"I never thought of art that way," Eugene argues.

"You trying to tell me studying those never made you hot?" Snafu teases.

"Well, there was one…."

"Ooooh!" Snafu coos. He comfortably wraps Eugene's arms in front of his stomach, and settles in as if to hear a story, smiling at Gene's blushing face all the while.

"I once saw a slide depicting a portion of the Sistine Chapel paintings..." Eugene confesses.

"Getting hot in church!" Snafu crows.

"The slide was shown in college, not in church!" Eugene protests, "Anyway, one of the male figures was sitting with his torso elegantly twisted and the cloth behind him was draped so it appeared to fall between his naked legs…" Eugene slides his hands down Snafu's body and onto his thigh, "...like the fabric was caressing him sensuously...like…" Eugene trails off and dips his hand between Snafu's own legs. He grips the soft slack muscle of Snafu's inner thigh. "Adductor group" Eugene whispers. He runs his hands down the inside of Snafu's leg, tracing a long line of muscle and disappearing out of sight in the mirror. "Sartorius," Gene names the muscle anatomy on Snafu's body as he goes, "Vastus Medialis. Internal oblique. External oblique."

Snafu closes his eyes. He can't see the muscles Eugene is referencing, but he can feel Eugene's fingers dig deep almost to the bone, massaging the different areas. "Fuck Sledge. Only you could make Latin hot."

Eugene laughs quietly behind Snafu's head. "Only you would think me benignly listing anatomical names was hot," he says.

"Everything you do is hot," Snafu's grin widens.

"Scrubbing barrels?"

"The hottest!" Snafu exclaims.

Eugene chuckles again.

Snafu opens his eyes to watch Sledgehammer giggle. Eugene's whole body trembles, and his mouth forms a wide 'V'. His laugh is pretty hot too.

The door knocks.

They both freeze. Snafu guiltily turns the sink faucet off.

The door knocks again.

"Busy," Snafu yells.

"Hurry it up!" a voice calls, "You're hogging it!"

"No chance!" Snafu retorts.

This time the door bangs as the man on the other side takes his angry fist to it.

Snafu starts to feel nervous. He's unsure how they're gonna get out of this one if the guy outside waits for them to leave.

"Ignore it, we're paying customers," Eugene whispers to Snafu.

"Not in the sleeper car," Snafu points out. The ticket crumpled on the floor in his pants back pocket is for coach only.

"Turn the shower on," Eugene says softly in his ear.

Snafu reaches past the shower curtain and does as he's told. The water drowns out the outside voices, but they still hear footsteps as the guy goes away.

"Get in. I'll get undressed and join you in a minute," Eugene orders.

Eugene being bossy is a bit of a turn on.

"Sure," Snafu drawls. He pinches Gene on the ass and adds, "Gluteus maximus," before he squeezes past the curtain into the shower.

"You pinched the Gemellus muscles, actually," Eugene catches his hand and yanks him into a quick kiss before letting him go.

Snafu slides the curtain shut to let Eugene change, and starts to wrestle with the dumb shower knobs. None of them seem to work the way one might expect. "What the fuck?" Snafu complains and punches the stupid thing. Water comes out. In squirts.

"The shower head's ejaculating," Snafu tells Eugene on the other side of the curtain, "We might need to give it some privacy before we start." Another few squirts and the water eases into a steady stream.

"You forgot the soap," Gene's still clothed arm sticks into the shower between the tile edge and the curtain, and waves the bar at Snafu.

"Don't need soap," Snafu says haughtily.

"Yes you do," Eugene counters and waggles the soap at him again.

"Fresh water and a lil spit shine are all a man needs," Snafu insists.

Eugene shoves the soap into Snafu's chest, "Use the damn soap, Snaf. You filthy grimlin."

Rolling his eyes, Snafu does as he's told and grabs the soap. But he also grabs Gene's arm, and yanks both into the shower with him.

Eugene yelps when the water hits his chest and dribbles all over his uniform. "Shelton!" Eugene sputters, "Three more days! In this uniform!" He can't even get a proper sentence out, he's so angry.

Snafu gives him a better reason for speechlessness by putting his mouth over Eugene's.

Gene immediately forgets about his wet uniform woes and melts into the kiss. He corners Snafu and braces himself on the tile floor using the rubber soles of his boots. His strong stance keeps the two of them steady despite the shaking train. Whatever gunk Eugene styles his hair with melts away too and the long strands over his forehead slowly droop into Snafu's face.

Snafu breaks the kiss, leans his forehead against Gene's and fumbles to get all of Eugene's buttons open. In his haste, he doesn't even bother to pull the shirt out of Gene's pants. He just shoves the open shirt to the side as best as he can and drags Eugene in. The first touch of Eugene's bare skin against Snafu's own chest fulfills almost every secret wish Snafu had for this moment.

Snafu holds him there without kissing without even looking, and just feels it. He thinks he maybe understands now what Eugene meant by simply admiring.

Then Eugene ruins the mood by whispering, "My boots are filling up with water."

Snafu snorts, "Least it's not sweat?"

"You gonna let me take them off this time?" Eugene asks with a smirk.

"Only if you take the rest of it off too," Snafu tugs at Eugene's shirt.

The stream of water slows to a trickle and then stops altogether

"You turned the shower off?" Eugene asks, "Thanks…?" He sounds slightly befuddled. Probably because both of Snafu's hands are gripping Gene's clothes.

"I didn't touch it," Snafu remarks, "Its push button. The thing stops on it's own."

“What?”

“Push button,” Snafu demonstrates by leaning over to press the shower knob again. Water spurts out and hits Gene in the back of the head.

“Who makes a push button shower?” Eugene complains. He ducks away to avoid the water stream that starts steadily trickling down.

“Santa fe railroad company apparently,” Snafu comments.

“I will have to remember to file a complaint," Eugene scowls at the little plastic knob.

"Don't know how you're gonna remember that, you already forgot to get undressed," Snafu tells him, and then playfully pushes Gene back out of the shower, "And don't come back till you're naked, you filthy grimlin."

"My ruined uniform is your fault, Snafu," Gene points out, "You pulled me in."

"Yeah, yeah," Snafu taunts, "it ain't ruined. It just got a free wash."

Gene doesn't say anything else, but if Snafu listens carefully he can hear the titillating sounds of Eugene's belt being unbuckled. A few thuds signify when the boots come off and another quiet jingle as Eugene's pants and belt fall to the floor.

Eugene will be stepping into the shower any minute. Snafu figures he had better turn the water back on, give it a chance to heat up before Eugene joins him.

Despite Snafu's reassurances to Eugene about how they've seen each other naked in many innocuous circumstances, Snafu feels nervous as hell. Eugene is rather flighty and embarrassed when it comes to sex and the last thing Snafu wants to do is scare him off. And this stupid train is making that a tall order.

Snafu slams his hand down on the shower knob and pushes it repeatedly, taking his stress out on the poor thing more than it deserves. The water comes out of the nozzle in spurts, and after twenty or so pushes, finally turns warm. Snafu breathes a sigh of relief and turns his face into the stream.

"Snaf?" Eugene asks softly from behind the shower curtain.

"Yeah?" Snafu asks back.

Eugene doesn't answer.

Snafu moves to peek behind the curtain but Eugene holds it closed.

"You coming in?" Snafu asks.

No response.

"Gene?"

Still no response.

The water trickles to a stop, Snafu doesn't bother to turn it back on again. "Gene, if you want me to use this soap, you're gonna have to come in and make me," Snafu challenges.

"What if you don't like it?" Eugene asks.

"What is there to like about a bar of soap? Soap is soap!" Snafu is confused, "You know I don't do flowers and shit. I'll end up smelling like a hat box." His mother had a Sunday hat she kept on the top shelf of the broom closet in a beat up old cardboard box with a satchel of lavender stored inside. 'Looks nice, smells nice, and no bugs,' was her mantra.

"No...I mean…" Eugene sighs, "I'm not built like those…" he stops, hesitates, and starts again, "Those other guys, with their steel band muscles. The military men who could've stepped out of an anatomical study - all chiseled jaws, and broad chests, and sculpted arms…what if you don't like...me?"

"Sledgehammer, I've wanted to fuck you since the first day you walked into my tent," Snafu says through the curtain, "And you were more freckles than muscle then."

"Yeah I figured, but…"

"But nothing," Snafu laughs, "get your butt in here!"

Again the other side of the curtain goes quiet. Snafu starts to realize that Gene might be serious about this.

Snafu changes his tone, to something a little kinder, and adds further compelling facts to his argument, "I've seen you naked. Many times."

"Not like this," Eugene says again, a stubborn note in his voice.

"I've jerked myself off to the thought of you naked, many times," Snafu offers, "How about that?" He's confident this will boost Eugene's confidence.

"I...don't think anyone's ever said that to me before," Eugene says with mild skepticism in his voice.

Snafu presses his hand to Eugene's on the opposite side of the curtain and the thin, opaque sheet of plastic between them is almost as bad as only being able to hold hands under a damn blanket. "Okay, Gene. I won't pressure you," Snafu says softly, "This stupid shower has enough pressure issues as it is," -in that instant the water pressure changes yet again and spurts of it slap Snafu in the face. He shakes his head free of water and tells Eugene, "Just give me a few to finish here, and then I'll let you have the shower to yourself. All right?" He steps away from the curtain and pushes the knob to fix the stream.

Snafu runs his hair under the shower to wet it fully. A difficult task given that with every bump in the tracks, the stream cuts off briefly. Not to mention Snafu keeps stumbling into the damn wall. He opens the cardboard carton of soap and successfully pulls the soap free, but the minute he tries to scrub his hair with it, the train jostles his hand and out pops the soap bar. Like a weasel. Or Eugene's dick if Snafu could just yank those dungarees off him.

Snafu catches the damn thing, but barely. He rubs it against his head a few times, and then a particularly nasty jostle careens his elbow into the wall and sends the soap skittering to the floor. Snafu grumbles at it, picks it up, and tries again.

This song and dance with the soap continues for a while longer before Snafu gets fed up.

"I'm not coming out..." Snafu announces to Eugene, "...just let me reach…" He thrusts his hand between the wall and the curtain and tosses the soap out of the shower, "Take it! It's worse than a damn jumping bean." The soap collides with the wall and bounces into the sink.

Snafu can hear Eugene swearing behind the curtain as he tries to catch the soap.

"It landed on your clothes," Eugene says, "So if your pants smell like flowers, you've only yourself to blame."

"Better than whatever the hell they smelled like before," Snafu says. He hurriedly runs his hands under his armpits and prepares to exit the treacherous shower.

"Snaf, wait," Eugene says quickly.

"Yeah?" Snafu freezes.

"I changed my mind. Can I…" Eugene's fingers appear around the edge of the curtain. It opens a crack.

It's as if Snafu has been given a second chance at life. The ball is in his court again. Snafu isn't used to the side of Eugene who feels insecure and uncertain. But this? Snafu knows exactly how to handle this.

"Only if you say the magic word," Snafu answers in a tease.

"Please?" Eugene says incredulously, like he suspects Snafu is pulling his leg.

"Nope, wrong word," Snafu insists. He turns around and tilts his head back to let the trickle of water seep into his already drying hair again. Better get ready for when Eugene finally breaks down that curtain. Snafu needs to be wet, and shiny, and vivacious.

"A magic word, Shelton, seriously?" Eugene asks, the annoyance slipping so easily into his countenance.

"Nope, still not the right word," Snafu repeats. He shakes his head, flinging his wet curls out of his eyes.

"You expect me to just start saying random words?" Eugene asks.

"I'll let you know when you get it right," Snafu says.

"Asshole," Eugene grumbles.

"Wrong!" Snafu exclaims.

There's silence on the other side of the curtain. Eugene is really bad at this.

"Are you really going to stand out there alone and bare ass-ed instead of continuing to guess?" Snafu taunts.

"Snafu, just let me in," Eugene sighs.

"Nope!"

"Merriell!"

"Yup, that's the one," Snafu bends his head back again.

Eugene lets out a frustrated mumble. The curtain jerks open. "Close your eyes," Eugene orders.

Snafu closes his eyes and lets the water fill his ears, so for a minute it's just him and solitude. He stops thinking about Eugene, he stops thinking about himself. The only thing he focuses is on is the sound of his own heartbeat...and how difficult it is to stay standing in one place while the train tries to throw him in all directions.

"Well, this is narrow," Eugene observes when he steps into the shower. The metal shower curtain rod squeaks as Gene closes it behind himself.

Snafu hums.

Gene's hands press against Snafu's stomach. They are warmer than the outside air but wet when he slides them around Snafu's waist. The next thing Snafu feels is Eugene's lips kissing his neck, sucking at the water running down his skin. Eugene is dying of thirst and it might be Snafu's fault.

And then the train rattles extra hard, and Snafu is thrown into Eugene and Eugene is thrown into the wall.

Giggles abound.

Snafu opens his eyes.

Eugene looks at him, and Snafu looks at Eugene. Eugene is fucking beautiful, as always. Snafu makes sure to tell him so.

Eugene seems satisfied by Snafu's sincerity.

And finally, they come together and get down to the good stuff.

It isn't easy. Everything - including the inconsistent water spray, the constant need to pound on the button to make water come out, and the occasional bumps in the railroad track - combines to try and kill the mood.

But nevertheless Snafu persists, because Eugene is nude, and wet, and slippery due to Gene bringing the damn soap back into the shower with him. And he insists on using it on Snafu.

Both of them perpetually get too distracted to remember to hit the water button, and eventually they leave it off. But this also means that when Eugene lathers them up with soap, there is nowhere for that soap to go except down. Things get extremely slippery underfoot.

"Should've kept the boots on," Snafu suggests snidely, "Better grip in the soles."

Eugene snorts into Snafu's shoulder and grips Snafu's hips harder to make up for the slick slide of his feet on the shower floor. "Just hold onto me, I'll keep you upright," He says, and smiles adoringly at Snafu's antics.

"You kidding me? You're more unsteady on your feet than I am, soap boy!" Snafu laughs.

It's worth it though, because the glide of Eugene's bare thigh between Snafu's legs is to die for. Their bodies become one single undulating soapy mass. And Eugene's body, for all his insecurities and shyness, feels fucking amazing. Everything is amazing. Snafu hopes no one else needs the shower anytime soon, because Snafu intends to stay in it for the rest of the train ride. All three days.

Snafu is riding high on pleasure till he tries to get his mouth on Eugene's nipple and tastes soap. Snafu chokes, and spits, and Eugene looks insulted. "We need to wash off," Snafu explains. He slams his fist against the stupid button.

"Maybe if we had sex against the water knob, we'd keep pressing it naturally…" Eugene suggests, "That's how sex works, right?" He pantomimes a hammer motion with his hips and Snafu almost loses it then and there.

"Pretty sure we'd break our heads if we tried that in the shower, Sledgehammer," Snafu warns.

They try it anyway.

Sure enough, just as Eugene's dick successfully penetrates an inch into Snafu's ass, the train jiggles again and throws them off balance. Snafu slides under Gene and falls to his butt, and Eugene braces his hands against the wall, straddling over Snafu and looking alarmed.

"Makes it easier," Snafu shrugs and takes Gene's cock into his mouth instead.

Eugene gasps and almost buckles to the floor.

Snafu wraps his arms around Eugene's body and helps him stand.

Eugene leans his shoulder against the shower wall and winds his fingers into Snafu's hair. "Merriell," Eugene pants, "Mer…"

Snafu simply grins and works Eugene closer and closer to the edge. Eugene's arousal is a little hard for Snafu to read. Eugene isn't particularly physically expressive. Eugene's body grows tighter, like he's almost afraid of the point he's nearly about to hit. There's so much visible tension built up in Eugene's shoulders, all Snafu wants is to see that relax - to be the person who can make Eugene's taught string snap.

The only way Snafu knows Eugene is close is by the noises Gene makes. As Eugene loses his control, his moans grow almost too loud for the precarious situation they're in.

Eugene's eyes close, his breaths quicken, and he rolls his hips in one last desperate push.

Everything comes crashing to a climax. The train hits a bump. Eugene moans, his muscles shake. Snafu involuntarily pops off Eugene's dick (like the soap out of Snafu's hand) and is thrown backwards. Eugene slips, having lost total control of his legs. Cum squirts everywhere, all over the blue tile shower wall like Eugene's some sort of Jackson Pollock. He falls and his knee lands on top of Snafu's groin. Snafu stifles his cry of agony and doubles over. Eugene immediately turns from blissed out to worried and apologetic and in his haste to help Snafu, he instead falls in Snafu's lap.

They sit there together in the aftermath and watch the water turn off. The shower walls are still painted in Gene's cum.

"You're a real artist now, Gene," Snafu says, observing the mess. His voice is tight and he's still crouched in pain.

Eugene blinks at Snafu, lets the words sink in, and then rolls his eyes, "Oh god. Don't even start." He slowly gets back on his feet again. He stretches his legs, flexes his feet to grip the tile better.

Snafu grins.

"Snaf?" Eugene says, taking deep breaths as his heart rate goes down.

"Yeah?" Snafu stares up at him, anxious to hear how Gene's taking all this. And not wanting to influence him with Snafu's own commentary.

Eugene swallows a gulp of air, closes his eyes, and leans his head against the cool tile. He accidentally puts his hand in a wet smear of his own cum and doesn't even notice. "Can we do that again?" Gene asks.

Snafu's grin widens, "Anytime."

Gene huffs a laugh. He tries to stand straight, his left foot hits a soapy patch, and Eugene's leg almost goes out from underneath him. Again.

Snafu chuckles as he lifts his arms to prop up Gene's ass and prevent him from falling.

"Sorry!" Eugene gives up on standing and instead slowly lowers himself backwards down into Snafu's lap. The round globe of Eugene's bare butt grows bigger and bigger in Snafu's field of vision.

Snafu is not complaining. He guides Eugene's ass safely down to his level. "I fucking love you," he says.

Eugene spins around to stare at him in surprise. He almost drops his knee onto Snafu's groin a second time, “What?”

The smile drops from Snafu's face and he tries to stop Gene from moving around so much, “Careful!”

“You said you loved me," Eugene says stubbornly.

Snafu scowls, “Yeah to your ass. As it came crashing down onto my face.”

Eugene glares at Snafu, challenging him to refute Eugene's earlier statement.

Snafu refuses to say anything related to the dumbass words that slipped out of his mouth easier than Eugene's soapy feet slipping on wet tile.

Eugene stares him down, clearly stubborn enough to believe that he can win this contest. He underestimates Snafu's ability to go deadfaced. Their staredown lasts for at least five minutes.

Until finally Eugene caves, "Love you too, Snaf." He gives Snafu's knee a friendly push.

Snafu pushes Eugene's face away so his back is to Snafu once again.

Eugene tries to stand on wobbly feet, more determined this time.

Snafu leans forward, wraps his arms around Eugene's waist, and presses his face to Eugene's right butt cheek.

"Snafu, you're gonna make me fall again…" Eugene warns. He braces himself on either side of the shower.

"Right, sorry…balance," Snafu mumbles and switches to Eugene's left butt cheek. To even things out.

"Okay…" Eugene laughs and turns himself around, "Let me help you up now."

Snafu takes Eugene's offered hand but when he tries to get up, the pain in his groin and shoulder where Gene accidentally crushed him flares up in agony. "Give me a minute," Snafu says and tries to hide his grimace. He drops back down to the tile and leans against the wall, pulling his legs close to his chest.

"Snaf?" Eugene sounds concerned.

"I'm fine," Snafu replies with a smile. He wishes Eugene wouldn't stare at him so much, "Just let me sit."

"Snaf…" Eugene sounds increasingly frustrated.

Snafu closes his eyes and wills the pain away.

A gentle hand takes hold of Snafu's wrist and lifts Snafu's hand from where it's covering his shoulder. Eugene replaces it with his own. "Snaf, don't do this," Eugene says.

"What?" Snafu cracks an eye open.

"Make yourself small," Eugene says, "You are allowed to take up space. Even if right now inside this inhumanely cramped shower the only space I have to give you is in my heart."

Snafu blinks at him, "Holy shit Sledgehammer, how long did it take you to come up with that one?"

Eugene grins, "Been thinking about it since you pulled me in with all my clothes on. I'm gonna write it down when we're finished. In my journal. Next to my lengthy descriptions of your pillowed lips."

"We oughta get out of this cursed shower so you can put those clothes back on," Snafu comments. He tries to hold onto the shower curtain to pull himself up.

"Snaf, that cheap plastic will rip right down if you put your weight on it," Eugene warns, "Hold onto me instead."

Snafu does as told and leans half his weight on Eugene's chest. "I don't need you," Snafu insists, staring into Gene's face defiantly.

"I know," Eugene smiles, "But I also know you want me. So...."

Snafu kisses him gently to shut Gene up.

Without all the acrobatics they kept trying before, it's suddenly pretty easy for them both to lean against the shower wall and let the train rock them side to side as they make out.

Snafu is freezing cold. The water stopped spurting long ago, and his toes feel like individual icicles. But every place on his body where Gene puts his hands is warm, and as long as Eugene keeps his lips on him, Snafu doesn't care about all the rest.

"I dreamt we could spend the entire train ride kissing like this," Snafu whispers to Gene.

"Yeah?" Eugene's eyes light up. He trails a finger down the muscle of Snafu's neck, "I'd do it." Eugene leans in and replaces his finger with his lips, "If i thought we could get away with it, I would sit right in the middle of that passenger car, necking with you till we reach Mobile."

Snafu latches on to the last few words of Eugene's sentence: 'till we reach Mobile.' 'We.'

"Fuck, Gene," Snafu says softly.

They kiss till the train starts to slow. "Where the fuck do you think we are now?" Snafu asks, knowing they probably aren't even in Texas yet.

"Tucson probably," Eugene mumbles. He unsticks Snafu's bare skin from the shower wall and pushes him toward the center of the stall, "C'mon we only have a few minutes before everybody is aboard."

They end up getting twenty. Twenty blissful minutes of a perfectly still, unmoving train. The rush from the beginning of their tryst returns. Snafu slams his hand against the shower knob and honest-to-god hot water comes out, melting their fingers and toes, and putting Snafu in a languid, sensual mood. His entire body is nothing but sensation and Eugene is a goddamn dream.

As long as Snafu keeps his hand behind his back covering the shower knob, the rocking of their bodies does exactly as Eugene had originally intended and keeps the water flowing. Eugene laughs a little at how much easier everything is all of a sudden. How they fit together so well now.

Snafu laughs with him. He's genuinely sharing this with Eugene, instead of focusing on how to take what little pleasure he can from this and get it over with as fast as possible.

He's actually disappointed when the train starts moving again. He nearly slides out of Eugene's embrace, but Eugene grabs Snafu's hands and holds him in place.

"We're getting all prune-y," Eugene comments as he examines the wrinkled pads of Snafu's fingers.

"Turnin' into raisins," Snafu grins.

"We should probably get out. Return to our seats. They're bound to be wondering where we got to," Eugene replies.

"Burgie probably thinks we jumped ship," Snafu agrees.

"Do you think Burgie knows?" Eugene asks, his voice turning serious.

Snafu snorts, "What you think he'd be jealous? Florence has your same hair color, Sledgehammer, but she also has a couple of other things I think Burgie'd miss." And he pantomimes two large jugs hanging in front of his chest.

"Snaf," Eugene admonishes, "Do you think he knows?"

"Of course he knows," Snafu rolls his eyes and leans against the shower wall as the train picks up speed.

Eugene sways into him and grabs Snafu around the waist. "We need to keep this secret. We can't tell anyone else," he insists.

Snafu nods. He knows the drill. He saw this coming a mile away, probably far sooner than Eugene did. Eugene with his lofty ideals and blind romance.

Eugene nods in return. He turns towards the shower curtain and yanks it open. Something makes him pause though. Snafu can see the indecision in his hunched shoulders. Eugene looks back at Snafu. And then lunges towards him for one more kiss.

"Fuck you're good at that," Snafu mutters when Gene finally releases him.

"At what?" Eugene asks.

"Final kisses," Snafu says, unable to keep the melancholy out of his own voice.

"That's not a final kiss," Eugene counters, looking confused, "That's a promise."

"A promise for what?" Snafu asks.

"You know...," Eugene shrugs. He turns his back on Snafu and steps out of the shower.

"So that's not you saying goodbye?" Snafu follows him.

"No, Snafu, that's me saying 'hold that thought until I can do it again'," Eugene explains with a wry smile, "Hopefully soon."

"Huh," Snafu scratches the nape of his neck and wonders what else he might've read wrong about Eugene's behavior.

Eugene holds up his still sopping wet uniform with a look of dismay. "It's been hours," he complains, "And still…"

"Wanna trade?" Snafu asks with a gleam in his eye.

"Yeah and have Burgie ask why I've suddenly gone up in rank?" Eugene retorts sarcastically.

Snafu chuckles and turns his attention to the bathroom air vent while Eugene struggles to put on his wet pants.

"What are you doing?" Eugene asks. He sounds tired. He leans against the wall, his pants only halfway up his legs.

Snafu ignores the question. Instead he climbs onto the sink, stands, and braces himself against the wall to reach the small air vent intended to keep the room fresh. He cleverly pops open the vent, catches it before it falls into the little changing room, and sets it down in the sink. "Figure we'll be here awhile," Snafu shrugs, "Give you some chance to dry off." He digs out a cigarette and his lighter.

"I can't get the pants to go over my thighs," Eugene complains, "They're...clinging."

Snafu grins and gestures for Eugene to step closer. With his cigarette hanging out his mouth, Snafu concentrates whole-heartedly on helping stuff Eugene back into his uncomfortably wet slacks.

"I'm gonna be cold for hours," Eugene says mournfully.

"S'why we should stay here," Snafu comments and gestures at him, "C'mere I'll help keep you warm."

Eugene smiles sardonically at him and lets Snafu drape his arms around Eugene's shoulders.

Snafu smokes, and lets the breeze carry it away out of the train.

Eugene reclines into Snafu's arms - his bare back against Snafu's bare chest. Eugene doesn't smoke with Snafu, but he does reach over for Snafu's free hand and starts picking at Snafu's fingernails. Once Gene finishes cleaning the left hand, Snafu obligingly switches his cigarette into that one so Eugene can do the other. Snafu's fingernails have never been so clean.

In the end they hold out their hands to compare.

"Think your nails are nicer than mine," Eugene notes.

"All that milk I don't drink," Snafu jokes.

Eugene takes Snafu's hand in his and kisses his palm.

"Gene, what you said...about stickin around….did you mean it?" Snafu asks quietly, maybe a little skeptically.

Eugene stiffens, like maybe Snafu's question surprised him a little. He turns in Snafu's arms and looks up at him.

Snafu blinks back. He brings his hand holding the cigarette back inside from hanging out the air vent.

Eugene silently gestures for Snafu to come closer.

Snaf balances his cigarette between his lips and carefully eases himself into a precarious crouch on the sink shelf. Fortunately if he falls, he will fall into Eugene. Who will catch him. Hopefully.

Eugene grips Snafu's hips tightly and stares into his face.

Snafu's not sure what he's looking for.

Whatever Gene's looking for, he finds it. He calmly takes the cigarette out of Snafu's mouth, tosses it out the window, and puts his open lips there instead.

Snafu gives himself over to the kiss and lets his butt drop onto the sink. The faucet is a little uncomfortable, but Eugene solves that problem too by shifting his hands underneath Snafu's thighs and lifting him a few inches above the shelf. Once again, Snafu is squished into a corner.

If it were anyone else he'd be nervous, and he'd already be running. Even now, Gene's clothes are so cold and wet that at first Snafu shrinks away from Eugene's hold. But gradually Snafu's skin becomes used to the temperature and when he wraps his legs around Eugene's waist, the heat from their bodies makes the damp bearable.

Snafu wants to stay in this shower cubicle, but he can't think up an excuse for it besides his insatiable thirst for touching Gene. Snafu runs his hands up and down Eugene's arms and asks, "Have I warmed you up yet?"

"Nope, think you had better continue trying…" Gene says and smiles when Snafu draws him into another kiss.

The sky outside the air vent is dark by the time they finally leave the little room. They're driven out by hunger. Eugene's stomach growls incredibly loudly, and they giggle together over how soft they've gone now that they eat three full meals a day.

"Burgie'll never believe me if I tell him your gut is louder than your snore," Snafu says as he helpfully rebuttons Gene's pants and buckles Gene's belt.

Eugene is completely unhelpful in that he refuses to keep his lips off Snafu even for a minute.

"I love you," Gene whispers in Snafu's ear and Snafu worries he's going to turn the words into a new mantra. "Merriell," Eugene sighs as he untucks Snafu's shirt from his pants for the third time that day.

"Gene, we gotta go back," Snafu hastily stuffs his shirt into his pants yet again, without bothering to smooth it.

"Thought you said we could spend the rest of the train ride necking…" Eugene argues and starts unbuttoning the shirt Snafu just buttoned five minutes ago.

"Yeah, in my dream…" Snafu retorts.

"I'm making your dreams come true…"

"Sledgehammer," Snafu finally puts his foot down and pushes Eugene an arm's length away, "We can't stay in here. Burgie's leaving tomorrow."

Eugene stops, and nods, "I know."

"You know?" Snafu mocks.

"Snaf, I…"

"You don't give a shit," Snafu argues, "By this time tomorrow you'll likely never see any of us all together ever again, and you don't care…"

"Snafu, what the hell…"

Snafu elbows Eugene out of the way and forces the door open. He stomps into the sleeper car and down the hall. Eugene catches up to him just as Snafu opens the divider doors.

"Snafu, slow down, I'm coming…!" Eugene says right before Snafu closes the sleeper car door on his face.

Eugene wrenches it open, grabs Snafu's wrist and prevents him from opening the next divider door. They stand there awkwardly, swaying with the train, the tracks especially loud here in the space between cars without any padding to buffer the racket.

"I'm fucking freezing," Eugene shivers at the wind blowing between the cracks and metal joints.

"You stink too," Snafu points out kindly, "Like flowers."

"Snafu, say it," Eugene demands, "Say it, and we can go sit with Burgie for the rest of the way, and I swear I'll be good."

"Why?" Snafu stubbornly asks.

"Because I need…" Eugene braces himself against the moving connector walls.

Snafu pries Eugene's hands off the shifting metal before the dumbass gets his fingers chopped.

"I need reassurance," Eugene admits.

Snafu holds Gene's hands tightly in his own and stares him down. He scowls and keeps his voice as low as possible, "I don't even know what love is, Sledge."

Eugene deflates.

Snafu drops his hands and opens the passenger car door. He walks through and can feel Eugene following him a good step or two behind. Neither of them say much more than a cursory hello to Burgie when they reach their seats.

"How is it you guys look even worse for the wear after going to freshen up?" Burgie asks.

"Shitty shower," Snafu says and slumps in his seat beside Burgie. He props his feet on the cushion across from him.

"No towels, no shampoo, no brush," Eugene says. He glares at Snafu's boots and shifts so he's sitting as far away from them as possible.

"Sledgehammer, why are you wet?" Burgie asks.

"Snafu pushed me into the shower, fully clothed," Eugene deadpans.

"He stunk," Snafu adds.

Neither of them can look Burgie in the eye.

Burgie is Snafu's best friend, and Burgie is leaving. And Snafu can't even tell him about any of this.

The last remaining night and half day is numbing. Eugene still sleeps the soundest when Snafu is there. Gene stretches his legs out as he snores and puts his feet between Snafu's - just to keep some contact. Snafu doesn't sleep. He just watches Gene.

They're all awake, but no one is bright eyed the afternoon the train pulls into Jewett.

Snafu almost feels guilty. Because when he watches Burgie leave, he isn't seeing Burgie, he's seeing Gene. He's going to miss Burgie in a way that will probably be a distant ache the rest of his life. Snafu can imagine living with that ache. He's been through that type of loss before. The real unknown is how in the hell will Snafu miss Sledge.

Burgie never talked about his family much during the war. Snafu once asked him about them. It was in the middle of the fighting back on Gloucester, before Sledge even walked into the picture. And Burgie only shook his head and refused the question. "If I think about them, I'll dream about them. Nightmares where they're dying in my place. It's worse, seeing that, than dying for them myself," Burgie explained. Snafu nodded, knowing Burgie was wise beyond his years. "I don't have that problem," Snafu replied, "Mine are already dead."

Burgie stuck to Snafu like glue after that. They were already friends, in that easy-going way of two people who get along naturally. But Burgie intentionally seemed to keep Snafu a little closer than the other guys. "If my little brother went off to war overseas where I can't protect him, I'd sure as hell hope he'd find someone to take my place for a while," Burgie offered as explanation.

Now Snafu watches Burgie tearfully embrace his real little brother at the train station and Snafu thinks about Eugene's brother, who came home from the European front months ago, who will be in Mobile waiting for Eugene. And about Snafu's baby sister. Who won't be.

These two Marines - Burgie and Sledgehammer - are the two reasons Snafu took himself seriously in this war. When it came down to it, day-to-day, Snafu was never fighting for much other than to preserve the life of the guy next to him. And when it was Burgie and Gene, all that fucked up effort felt worth it. Getting to witness this Burgin family reunion felt worth it.

Now Snafu just has to figure out what to do next.

Sledge claims to have no plans but the truth is Eugene is the kind of person who doesn't even know the meaning of 'no plans'. Eugene organizes every hour of his day, from work detail to meticulously researched cultural experiences. His idea of no plans consists of a financial safety net, parents who will steer him in the proper nuclear family direction, and a whole home full of people who love him.

Snafu glances over at Sledge. Their eyes meet briefly. Snafu is the one to look away.

"She'll come," Eugene says calmly, sure as ever, "It's like you said...it'll take Florence a while to get to Texas. But I'm sure the wait will be worth it."

Snafu clunks his head against the window glass and watches Burgie and his family climb into their dirty old truck - a proper farming truck. "I just said that to make him feel better. I didn't mean it," Snafu mutters.

"Well, I mean it," Eugene says firmly, "I believe it."

Burgie's truck starts driving off as the train picks up steam again. The truck turns onto the frontage road running parallel to the tracks. It almost seems to follow them as the train speeds away.

"You'll probably end up dancing at his wedding," Snafu says sourly.

"Only if you dance with me," Eugene retorts.

"I don't dance with gingers," Snafu complains, "Too hot-footed."

"Have you ever even danced with a redhead?" Eugene scoffs.

"No, but I've seen almost all of those Ginger Rogers movies…" Snafu replies.

"She doesn't even have red hair!" Eugene exclaims, incredulous.

"But she sure as hell can lift her feet," Snafu argues, "Wear a guy out, just watching her."

"You won't dance with me?" Eugene sounds crushed.

Snafu ignores the question and cranes his neck to keep his eye on the truck driving down the road. It's falling behind the train now, unable to keep up with the speed. Soon all Snafu will be able to see is a cloud of dust where his best friend should be. At least it's not a heap of mud.

Snafu remembers the first day he met Burgie in bootcamp. They were assigned as bunk mates, so when rotation happened no matter where they were sleeping - in a tent, on the open ground, barracks, whatever - they stayed together. Snafu had been so blown away by Burgie's sharp eyes, and his stocky compact beautifully built frame, that Snafu had announced to the man point blank, "If you weren't so goddamn straight, I'd be way into you." And Burgie's response, a mildly sarcastic, "Pity me" only cemented their friendship.

Snafu thought Burgie was the most impressive person in the world. Till a silly ginger boot walked into his tent on a godforsaken island and turned Snafu's world upside down.

The cloud of dust on the road beside the train becomes a distant haze. Snafu straightens and turns his face forward, only to fall into those same hooded dark eyes that entranced him the first day they met.

"Scoot over," Eugene orders.

"What?" Snafu furrows his brow at him.

"Scoot over, I want the window," Eugene demands.

Snafu does as he's told.

Eugene props his duffle against the window and leans on it. He spreads a blanket over himself and flicks the corner of it at Snafu. It hits Snafu in the face.

"Hey!" Snafu bats it away.

Eugene flicks it back.

"Fuck you, Sledge," Snafu grumbles. He gives in and rests his head on Eugene's shoulder.

"Fuck you too, Shelton," Eugene replies affectionately.

"You already did that," Snafu whispers lowly, only for Eugene to hear.

"Only almost," Eugene corrects.

"Yeah," Snafu admits, "But an inch in almost counts."

"Next time," Eugene assures him, with a devious smile, "When we're not on a rocking train."

"We'll provide the rocking," Snafu agrees, "No train needed."

"And preferably on a comfortable mattress," Eugene adds.

Snafu laughs, "Think I forgot what those even feel like."

"You shouldn't need to complain…" Eugene says and pats his chest where Snafu is leaning.

"You saying you're even more comfortable than a mattress?" Snafu smiles.

"Sure am," Gene says.

Snafu would have to agree. He can think of a million better reasons to be on top of Gene than comfort, though.

Eugene falls asleep because Eugene is Eugene and he can turn himself on or off at will. But Snafu sits there and stirs. His thoughts circle round and round about what he's going to do about the guy cuddled up with him.

The way he sees it there's two options: the Sledge family receives the questionable joy of having Snafu dropped on their doorstep like a stray cat, or Eugene doesn't show up in Mobile at all and everyone hates Snafu for keeping him away. Neither option is particularly appealing to Snafu.

He has to leave. He's not meant to witness Eugene's family reunion. He knows it.

It's like Burgie and his nightmares. If Snafu watches Eugene go back to his family, then that might start to feel more real than Snafu's connection to Sledgehammer. Better to end it on a high note. Stop it here and in Snafu's memory Eugene will stay Snafu's forever.

/~*~/ We all know what happens next, insert lots of angst and sadness as time goes by, I wrote this next goofy part to fix the end and not leave this fic hanging like Snaf did Eugene on the train. /~*~/

A year later Snafu is living in his lonely godforsaken apartment in New Orleans. The shithole is located on the fourth floor next to a copse of palm trees, which is great for feeling like a person is living in a treehouse, but not so great on the knees. All those stairs.

He sits down at his shitty folding table, propped against the window to give him a good view of the sunset as he eats his shitty meals alone, and rattles a few shredded wheat hunks into his cereal bowl. He mournfully pours the milk on top and slaps at the gigantic mass with his spoon. The milk will seep in and eventually the slapping will turn to chipping, and then the damn thing will become edible.

The window's open and there's a light breeze, something Snafu wouldn't normally notice except for what happens next. A parrot swoops in and drops a letter in his cereal.

It's a good thing his shredded wheat hadn't yet passed the chipping stage, because it takes up enough space in the bowl to prevent the letter from getting soaked. Snafu's ruined more than his fair share of correspondence that way on accident. And no one ever believes him when he explains he couldn't respond to the person's letter because a bird soaked it in milk. They never react well to his suggestion that they write in pencil rather than ink either (ink bleeds more when submerged).

Snafu feeds the parrot its well earned treat before he does anything else. Snafu doesn't do stairs, so he trained the parrots nesting in the palm tree outside his window to collect his mail for him. Well, he trained the parrots to collect everybody's mail. Any mail that doesn't belong to him he takes downstairs or leaves in front of his door. He is not popular among his neighbors.

Once the parrot has its treat, Snafu idly pets its head as he rips open the envelope and unfolds the letter. He recognized the writing the minute he saw the name on the envelope. He knows exactly what is coming:

Snafu you goddamn idiot,

Sledgehammer came to my wedding alone. So tell me: what the hell did you do? I told you not to do anything stupid. Sledgehammer is graciously not saying nothing about anything, so I'm writing to you instead. I don't know what's going on in that fool head of yours, but if you think Gene has forgotten you, think again. You of all people know how hard it was for me to risk my pride, and put my heart on the line, and ask Florence to marry me - someone half a world away who she barely just met. But I knew, and I knew she knew, and we built a life on that. I think the least you could do is afford Eugene that same trust. Make it right, Snafu. Or I will drive to New Orleans and drag you to Mobile myself. Kicking and screaming if necessary.

Love, Burgie

Snafu jumps when suddenly his door bangs. The hinges rattle with the force of whoever is knocking. Snafu has a bad premonition about this.

The door bangs again. The person is not giving up.

Snafu sets the letter down on the table and stands. The parrot flies to his shoulder and hops until it presses against his neck. It stretches and picks at Snafu's hair. The parrots always seem to like curls. Snafu swears fifty percent of their nest comes from off his head.

More banging from his door. Snafu is living in a cheap place, he's fairly certain his poor flimsy door can't take much more of this. So he opens it.

An irate redhead stands on the other side.

Eugene's eyes zero in on Snafu's parrot friend, "Of course you have birds delivering your mail for you, you lazy sonofabitch."

Snafu stands stunned.

"I had that letter in my hand," Eugene points to Snafu's table, "All ready to bring it to you personally after driving all the way to New Orleans to do so…" Eugene takes a deep breath, he is panting from climbing all those stairs, "...when suddenly the rare monk parrot I was casually admiring in the palm tree nearby screeched at me holy murder and dove straight for me. I ducked, held my hands up to protect my eyes, and the bird plucked Burgie's letter right out of my grasp. And then," another frustrated breath for emphasis on his next statement, "I watched it fly through your fourth story window."

"There's a lotta steps," Snafu shrugs, "I don't do steps."

"Merriell," Eugene pleads. He's desperate, out of breath, with tired pretty eyes. He's never looked prettier, yet somehow Snafu always knew he was this pretty. He's Eugene - of course he's still pretty.

"Gene," Snafu drawls, and the name feels the same in his mouth as it always did, all that love and affection right at the tip of his tongue.

Eugene storms through the door and wraps his hands around Snafu's head, and kisses him. He dislodges the parrot on Snafu's shoulder in the process. At first the parrot protests with shrieks, till it moves to Eugene's shoulder, and gets a good look at his hair, and then decides to perch inside it.

Eugene ignores the bird. He kicks the door closed and drags Snafu against his body with all his strength. Eugene is softer than he was in the war, and it's a hell of a lot more comfortable to be engulfed by him. Snafu barely pays attention to the kiss, he's too busy touching. He missed Eugene's neck, his hips, his hands.

All these years...Snafu's finally home again. The bird certainly seems to be making itself at home too - in Eugene's hair. Snafu supposes the parrots must be partial to gingers. He sympathizes.

Snafu starts pulling at Eugene's clothes, trying to drag him further into the room.

"Uhhh, Snaf?" Eugene asks.

"Yeah?" Snafu freezes, his nerves on edge.

"Will the bird stay in my hair...the whole time…?"

Snafu stares at Gene. "You don't like the parrot?"

Eugene backtracks quickly. "Not that I don't appreciate the beauty of being able to observe such a rare species up close…"

Snafu smirks, "Pulling your leg, Sledgehammer." He lets go of Gene and beckons for him to follow. "C'mon, this is a one bedroom. If we feed the parrot a treat and go running into the bedroom it'll be too distracted to follow."

Eugene holds open the bedroom door while Snafu prepares a handful of treats. The parrot knows what's coming. It picks up the already opened envelope and cocks its head beguilingly.

"Looks like you when you want something from me," Eugene observes from a distance.

"Shut up, Gene," Snafu says. He tactfully apologizes to the bird for not being able to give it the attention it deserves right now, but if it will humbly accept his offer of a treat, Snafu would be so grateful.

"Talking to birds now?" Eugene asks, "When did that start? Before or after you broke my heart?"

"Gene, I swear to god I will throw this treat into the bedroom, let the bird follow, push you in, and lock you both there," Snafu snaps.

"More time to study the creature," Eugene counters. He pulls a notebook from his pocket and waggles it at Snafu.

Snafu carefully drops the treat on the plate, and then runs for Eugene, yelling, "Go, go go!" Snafu dives through the bedroom doorway and lands on his bed.

Eugene calmly steps in behind him and shuts the door. "I think you've gone a little crazy," he commented as he climbs onto the bed beside Snafu.

"Loneliness'll do that to a guy," Snafu says with his arms lazily behind his head, looking for all the world like he wasn't fleeing from a parrot five seconds ago.

Eugene lays alongside him and places his hand on Snafu's cheek. "Are you even going to apologize?" he asks.

"I love you," Snafu says instead.

Eugene groans and tips his whole body into Snafu's. They interlock together like puzzle pieces, and Eugene nuzzles his nose against Snafu's neck. "I'd have thought you'd given up on manufacturing chaos by now."

"I gave up alcohol, not chaos," Snafu grins, "S'why I talk to birds."

"I haven't slept in months," Eugene sighs.

"You look it," Snafu agrees. He rubs Eugene's back softly. Up and down, in a soothing manner. Every time his hand slides along Eugene's spine is a treat. Another reassurance that Eugene is alive, and well, and here.

Gene moans and turns his head into the pillow to block out the light.

"The only food I got in the house is shredded wheat and parrot treats, so if you're planning to stay we oughta go to the store before we go to sleep," Snafu comments.

Eugene snores deeply.

#sledgefu #bad germs #happy friday

37 notes · View notes

grimessbitch · 3 years

Text

Trauma - Father figure! Daryl x reader

//Drabble//

Warnings: talks and sign of passed abuse, no hate to Carol or Negan or Daryl they’re badass characters and I love them I just gotta have em bad, Daryl is a dickhead.

A/n: in this it’s a different ending? Rick doesnt ‘die’, they kill Negan and Carl doesn’t die, and that’s about it.

You and Daryl had always been close, very close if you asked Rick and he was grateful he found someone that you connected so well with to be your father. Only Rick knew about how your biological dad treated you especially whenever Negan took you and him to a bridge but it was only time before he told Daryl then Michonne. You understood what happened whenever you were younger and occasionally some days would be worse than others with it. You latched you Daryl because you remembered him from his time being a prisoner at the Sanctuary, everything was smooth until Daryl was interested in Carol and pushed you almost out of the picture, Rick always gave you the option to leave and go back to the remainder of the sanctuary that Dwight ran partnered with a few old Alexandrians but you never chose to because you hated remembering your dad, even dead he still haunted you.

You stumbled through the woods next to Daryl, you told everybody goodbye except for Daryl which was most definitely going to be the hardest part of leaving, he did raise you for almost ten years now leaving you at the ripe age of sixteen. “So...I’m leaving for the sanctuary with Michonne tonight..” you admitted not looking at Daryl as you continued to walk even after he stopped. “Hey! Stop!” He yelled looking at you, slowly turning around you looked at him and tried your best to stand your ground “why the hell are you going back!?” He yelled his temper slowly rising “d-Daryl..I’m not a kid anymore and I’m ready to fix what my dad did...and you need to move on with bigger things, like Carol” you smiled softly your voice cracking “no! You don’t get to just leave like that! No god Damnit you’re staying!” He screamed walking closer “we need this!” You yelled biting your lip feeling the first tear hit your cheek; you screamed and fell to the damp muddy ground holding your head as Daryl raised his hand out of anger, not realizing his mistake he growled “go then! Go! And never fucking come back! I-I don’t want to ever fucking see you!” Every chant leaving his lips felt like a stabbing pain in your chest “all you’re going to do is disappoint them all over again! You’re a kid!” He yelled, once he turned around and stormed off you left for your travel, so much for grabbing the rest of your things.

You wouldn’t get to the sanctuary for three more days, and whenever you’d get there you’d be sick, horribly sick, while you’re walk a blizzard had hit and almost killed you and every alive thing around you. Unknown to you a certain archer was panicking with stress searching every bit of the woods for you or worse..your corpse. Dwight slowly came into your room sitting on the bed next to you holding out a comic book “Michonne brought it over..said Carl wanted you to have it..” he whispered pushing the hair out of your face laying the book next to you. You were still weak and tired but the color had came back to your eyes letting you look a lot more alive and well, you also gained the weight you lost while trying to fight for your life against the cold weather. “She’s coming by today..gonna drop off some things..Daryl has been trying to force information out of us about where you are on the walkie-talkie..” he whispered “I don’t wanna talk to him...” you whispered turning away from both of them messing with your sleep pants.

You’d refuse to talk to Daryl for another two days, leaving the time you were gone to be about four almost five days, and whenever you finally did, you wished you would’ve just forgot about him, Rick’s words still repeated in your head “he left for New Mexico three days ago” you walked through Alexandria quietly hugging Carl and Judith whenever they walked up to check up on you “how are you..about your dad leaving you?..” Carl asked you as you both walked around the streets “I’m fine” you whispered shrugging “I told him it was best if..- we had a..- I don’t know what you’d call it..he was like my dad and I thought the best thing for me was to leave and fix my dad’s wrong doings...and he respected that and left..I just wish he would’ve stayed longer...” you whispered messing with you hands “I never got a chance to get better and talk to him..” you said kicking a small pebble with your foot “if he came back what would you do..?” He askee as you turned around the corner again “I dunno...I’m really not sure..” you mumbled nervously, outside was a decent day, the snow was almost melting and it smelt like fresh clean air, something you hadn’t smelt for awhile.

“So why don’t you like Carol?..” he asked shifting Judith from his left to right hip “I dunno...ever since I started staying with Daryl and he started to raise me I could never remember her actually talking or giving me any nice stares, just glares and grumbles. “So she’s...jealous?..” he asked tilting his head looking at you “thats the thing...whenever we fell into that cave because she ran off...she tried to blow it up while I was still inside...if Daryl would’ve chased after Carol instead of actually looking for me I probably would’ve became a walker snack” you giggled as you turned another corner freezing, the gate was closing and Daryl was standing there proudly with Carol, there was something different about this, as you got closer you saw it, a makeshift ring sitting on her finger and his arm sat around her waist, so while you were lost in a blizzard he was getting engaged.

Carl tried to stop you as you stormed up but there was no stopping the giant scene about to break out. “Y/n?” Daryl asked looking at you in shock “a year..you looked for Carol for a fucking year! You looked for Sophia for months!” You screamed your voice cracking as you punched Daryl’s jaw as hard as you could sending him falling to the ground. “You looked for my dad’s dead body so I would’nt see his corpse for three months...and you didn’t even look for me a week...what did I do wrong?...” you whispered ending your rant by Rick helping you up off of Daryl, allowing the man to get up and put a bandana on his now bloody nose. “Y/n..it’s not like that and you kn-“ you cut him off by glaring “end to top it off...whenever I thought you left to clear your mind like you did whenever merle died...or whenever Carol left you for the third time but turns out...you were getting hitched in New Mexico” you growled stepping closer “I’m hurt. And I’m gonna make sure you know it” you whispered turning around walking back to Dwight who was closing up a trade with Michonne.

You would return on your seventeenth birthday, you’d return to follow through with your promise, sadly you turned into exactly what Rick believed you wouldn’t, your father. You stared at the Alexandrans kneeling in front of you but you watched a certain man. “Y/n stop this. Right now. Stop acting like a god damn child!” Daryl yelled clearly thinking you could stop him while Rick cried loudly, Michonne next to him silently crying, both of them knowing one or more were going to die. Carl watched him the far right of the line up, Four year old Judith next to him kneeling whining about her knees. “Take them away. Put them in the truck..they don’t need to see this” you said to Dwight nodding towards Judith and Carl, taking a deep breath you looked at Daryl, your goal was to break him, not for leaving you or leaving with Carol of all people, but for blaming you for your dad’s actions your entire life, and for the first few years of your time with Daryl he made sure you knew how horrible your dad was. “You pissin your pants yet?” She smirked stepping back looking down the line looking at the people you grew up with. Michonne, Rick, Daryl, Carol, Eugene, Ezekiel, Jesus, Tara, and Aaron. “Go. Everybody but him go home...you don’t deserve this” you mumbled in defeat letting Lucille drop to the ground.

Watching as everybody rose to their feet and quickly ran towards Alexandria you rethought what you were doing, was this okay? Should you just back down? No. You needed to get your revenge for everything. “You...you made me feel hated...then loved then it’s like..you just got tired of raising me and quit..especially whenever Carol came along” you whispered glaring at him, as the time passed with you glaring at Daryl waiting for him to apologize more rage grew in the pit of your stomach. The apologize never came only words that encouraged your motives more “you’ve gone fucking crazy, kid.” Hed say to you before spitting his blood right next to your boot, you grabbed Lucille tighter before swinging the baseball bat watching as Daryl’s blood landed on the gravel, you repeatedly swung the bat until you fell to the ground sobbing

#dad! daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd #angst

52 notes · View notes

rfschatten · 3 years

Text

It still the damn Mask, Stupid

“The highest form of ignorance is when you reject something you don’t know anything about.” ~~~ Wayne Dyer

“May you live in interesting times”? Oh yes! We, the people have certainly been really cursed!

It may sound kind of stupid, but how many people have been vaccinated at one time or another in their life? Chances are …if you ever went to school …yes! Whether you liked it or not, you were vaccinated! And it wasn’t by choice, your parents knew what was best for you and so did medical authorities …they understood the seriousness of infecting others, which could lead to a serious epidemic.

It’s always been the norm, always! …until now, when politics decided for their own ugly sordid purpose, to stick their ugly head into all of this! If you want your kids to go to school, you get them vaccinated …and that has really never changed. The first mandatory school vaccinations occurred in the 1850s to protect children from Smallpox …and it’s been a requirement in all 50 States for both, childcare and kids entering school for the first time, ever since!

The primary vaccines administered usually starts around the ages of 6 years old: the DTaP (Diphtheria, Tetanus, & Pertussis) Vaccine, the Polio Vaccine, Varicella Vaccine, MMR (Mumps, Measles, & Rubella) Vaccine, Hib (Haemophilus Influenzae type B) Vaccine, & Influenza (Flu) Vaccine. These are just a few …there’re between 8–16 different vaccines someone may end up taking during their lifetime, and that doesn’t include any of the newer ones …including Covid-19.

This is not just a school problem, the overwhelming majority of infections and deaths are from adults, and they’re acquiring all these new variants, too. The real problem is the moral issue …how much do you really care about your own child or another child’s health and welfare? How much do you really care about the health and welfare of your own community?

Every single human being growing up has been told; listen to your doctor! Every parent in the world has taken their children and/or themselves to a doctor at one time or another …if there’s access to one. So, what’s the big problem? The biggest problem is …we’re now living in a society dominated by sheer unadulterated ignorance!

Why do these parents don’t give a damn whether their children get sick? …or whether their children die? As long as they don’t have to wear a mask, everything is fine inside their own little bubble of reality …the sheer ignorance that has been politized by people who really don’t give a damn except gaining their supporter’s votes and especially their money …that’s all they really care about! Look how many kids are getting infected or dying in Ron DeSantis’ Florida death march and Glenn Abbot’s Texas genocide?

What does it take to convince some people that nothing is going to ever change back to any type of normal until those people start listening to Medical Authorities much more seriously than to Politicos?

What does it take to examine this pandemic and take a look at the numbers? More than 37 million people are already infected, with 600,00+ deaths …and predicting now to reach 660,000 by September …that’s more American deaths than WWI, WWII, Korea, & Vietnam combined! It’s more than the entire 1918 Spanish Influenza pandemic that killed 650,000! …though some say it may have been up to 750,000!

In those days you didn’t have the lines of communication around the world between the medical communities, as you have today …it was just as new to many doctors, especially country doctors. Advance medical technology and general medical knowledge was not around as much, yet still they prevailed.

There’s no excuse whatsoever that 21 years into the 21st Century, more than 600,000 people have had to die! …and with all these new variants, it’s just getting worse as the numbers are spiking all over, again. How can people see all this and wonder why we don’t get back to normal? As I said in Nov. 2020, in my article; “It’s the Mask, Stupid!” …nothing will ever get back to normal until this pandemic gets completely under control! And it’ll never, ever get under control till people stop listening to politicos and demagogues …and start listening to medical professionals, period!

We’re going through a severe public health emergency! It’s going to get worse! It’s going to get a lot worse than the first giant surge …95% of all new cases with all these new variants are from unvaccinated people. And this time, the surge is also affecting children of all ages … children's hospitals are filling to capacity, pediatric ICUs are near capacity …children under 2 are becoming the latest victims!

While Covid-19 keeps spreading among the population, worse than ever …a vicious and methodical anti-vaxxer & anti-CDC insanity is being pushed by GOP politicos & social conservatives, all against the use of masks and vaccinations around the country …and it’s hindering the effort to keep this nation healthy and safe.

The undermining of the public’s health in name of political gains …by willfully endangering human lives with the use of systematic political projections, mass misinformation, continued lies 24/7, disingenuous rhetoric, cultivating ignorance, and deliberately creating massive obfuscation.

The schadenfreude of the entire GOP around the country …especially the extreme cruelty perpetrated against children by Ron DeSantis in Florida (better known these days as #DeathSantis), forcing children not to wear masks, while the “Sunshine State” has the highest rate of children hospitalized in the nation, and 25% of all cases in the United States! Texas’ Greg Abbott is literally competing for the same honor …all of Texas’ hospitals & ICUs …like in Florida …are currently running at full & overcapacity, with field hospitals in the parking lots & underground garages!

Meanwhile, the massive campaign to spread deliberate misinformation hasn’t worked too well for their own constituency of conservative Anti-Vaxxers. Ex-Newsmax & Fl. right-wing radio talk host Dick Farrell, who 10 days earlier, called Anthony Fauci a “power-tripping lying freak” and mocked the pandemic as a “scamdemic” …died of Covid! Then, not to be outdone …Texas GOP official H. Scott Apley, an anti-mask and anti-vaxxer who wrote an invitation to a “mask burning” and mocked Covid …died 5 days later, from Covid!

The unvaccinated, anti-vaxxers, and Covid deniers all over the country are now sick & dying right and left from Covid-19 …while totally incompetent super-spreading idiots like Rand Paul keep pushing his supporters to become bigger idiots than they already are, calling for “civil disobedience” and saying; “No one should follow the CDC mandate” “it’s time to ‘resist’ common sense health problems”!

And this, from the same man who for 16 months did not reveal an inside trade, accounting for a slew of stock he bought in a Covid treatment center …so, for Mr. Paul? the more people resist, the more people will get sick, and the more money Mr. Paul makes!

Resist “common sense”?!?! …if it comes down to believing that BS? Maybe it takes getting infected, intubated, and placed on a mechanical ventilator to change their tune …unfortunately, you still have those just too ignorant, who do get infected and still refuse to get vaccinated. Resist common sense? Something might be lost in translation, but if it comes down to that …they’ll deserve what they get!

If things are not bad enough? …now, we have the GOP promoting the excuse of “freedom of speech” rhetoric to allow their supporters to use threats of bodily harm …primarily, by the Proud Boys …shouting and threatening doctors, nurses, and other health professionals, in front of their own homes, telling them; “we know who you are, we’re going get you!”, as a way for them to stop treating the sick! Give them a break! …all they’re trying to do is save lives, probably, your own rotten life too.

An elementary school teacher was attacked by an angry parent for having the audacity of protecting his little daughter! More Proud Boys carrying MAGA Trump flags stabbed a pro-mask supporter at an Anti-Vaxxer rally, and beat up 2 news reporters …Frank Stoltze of NPR was repeatedly kicked and beaten up & Tina Desiree Berg was attacked, beaten, and had her mask torn off by her attacker, Tony Moon …another Jan. 6th Capital rioter, all caught on camera.

There’s really no excuse! …all this is not about your “Freedom”, free not to get vaccinated or not wear a mask, it’s not about mandates or requirements, it’s totally a sham perpetrated by Republicans using the pandemic to raise money for their own selfish non-medical gains …professional propagandist Tucker Carlson said the “US Government wants to ‘force’ us to get vaccinated, force us to take medicine, even force us to get ‘sterilized’ like in WWII Germany” …” no one owns my body”!

This is a man who says he’s against Anti-Fascism (Antifa) …which makes him a Pro Fascist! The same Fascists that believe in “forced sterilization”, and the belief in the use of Eugenics. “No one owns my body?” …except if that someone is a woman who wants an abortion, then, he believes in owning ‘her’ body for life!

Fact: there are no US Government mandates or requirements ordering anyone to get vaccinated or wear a mask, whatsoever! No one is forcing anyone to take any type of medicine! Yes, you do have the constitutional right to reject all medicines and vaccines …and yes, you also have the freedom and the right to die for not taking care of yourself or not listening to medical advice!

When will people understand just to follow some common sense! listen to medical professionals! listen to all those people tirelessly working their asses off in hospitals 24/7 for more than a year, risking their own lives while trying to save even just one life?…the life that might very well be you, someday! No one is more bipartisan than doctors, nurses, respiratory therapists, and others who are not looking at, and don’t give a damn what political party you belong to, what ideology you have, what color is your skin, or where you came from!

When will people understand the severity of this virus? 93% of all the Covid variants in the United States are Delta! …which is a highly transmissible variant. The newest Lambda variant is now coming out from South America, and it already arrived in California. All you have to do is listen! …the more people let these variants go rampant, the more these viruses are going to mutate, thus creating much worse and more dangerous strains!

All these unvaccinated anti-mask & anti-vaxxers, Covid deniers, all these enraged parents who keep having violent meltdowns because they and/or their children are being forced to wear a mask, they all need to understand It’s not just to protect yourself and your child …it’s to protect others. If you’re sick, or maybe even dying …why would you want to go to a hospital if you can’t trust those doctors for medical advice? You can’t have it both ways!

No one has said it any better than Arnold Schwarzenegger; “Screw your freedom! …with Freedom comes Obligation & Responsibility”!

Is it the right of a parent…in the name of “Freedom”…to endanger the life of his or her child? In any other time, that would be considered child abuse, and Child Enforcement would be knocking at your door quicker than you can say Dept. of Children & Families! And what about viewing it from the child’s mind? How much has their childhood social cognition, developed? Does he or she understand what this commotion is all about? and how do they feel about it? …or, if all they know and feel is; what the hell is going on?

As a parent, it’s your moral & legal obligation to take care of your kids …it’s your personal responsibility as a parent not to be a piece of shit, so your kids wouldn’t have to inherit that legacy.

As far as the grown-ups of all persuasions, all races, all colors, or creeds…grow up! As a citizen of this country, it’s your moral & legal obligation to work with your community to keep it safe for everyone! It’s your moral responsibility to protect your kids & your family, protect your neighbors’ kids and their families, and protect your community from a deadly disease …so get vaccinated! …and wear a damn mask!

Freedom? Sorry! You’re not going to be free in any way till this pandemic is completely under control …so live with it!

Will Rogers said; “You can’t legislate intelligence and common sense into people”

In the end, if you can’t convince ignorance …you just have to let them sink or swim on their own miseries and mistakes. You can be as compassionate & sympathetic as you can, but sooner or later …people are not going to give a damn about your freedom …or whether you live or die, anymore!

Meanwhile, screw others’ “freedom” and be smart …stay vaccinated and just keep wearing your mask!

#Mask #COVID-19 #Vaccines #covid deaths #ron deathsantis #florida #texas #school mandates #covid mandates

4 notes · View notes

kingreywrites · 4 years

Text

Trust fall

Words count: 2731

Eugene Appreciation Day Six: Team Awesome

Summary: What if Eugene saw Varian fall in Cassandra's Revenge?

Read on ao3

@fishskiin

Eugene realised that, as much as he thought he was angry with Cassandra, he wasn't really furious until he saw Varian hanging over the air in a cage of black rocks. He had been sad, because Cassandra was his friend and she betrayed them; he had been frustrated, because she kept hurting Rapunzel, who had her flaws, but nothing that couldn't be solved with a discussion; he was concerned, for his friends and for Corona, concerned at what she would be willing to do.

Then, she kidnapped Varian and put him in a cage high above the ground, and he felt furious.

Varian, for his part, was scared but more focused on the last incantation than on himself, letting Eugene do all the worrying about the empty space under them, and how easily Cassandra could let them fall. When the rocks started retreating, Eugene had half a mind to curse - until Varian called his name fearfully, and he realised there were more important things. He took the kid's hand in his, squeezing it tightly and hoping he would understand that Eugene intended to defend him against Cassandra if need to be.

Well, except that she squeezed him between black rocks, and he was helpless to do anything but glare at her. She was using him to pressure Rapunzel into fighting and Eugene hated it, but when he tried to talk, the rocks squeezed tighter, and he lost his breath with a groan.

The next part was a little blurry. Or, more exactly, a little too bright for Eugene to follow. Rapunzel was shining and floating and exuding power like a goddess and, once Eugene's heart stopped beating so loud with anxiety, he would be awed by her beauty. She was fighting Cassandra, who was also glowing because nothing could ever be easy in their lives, and Eugene still struggled to breath, both because of the rocks and the sheer energy he was faced with. Some part of his brain told him he was also cursed with the "birthday should involve a near death experience" special, and he would have laughed if it wasn't his friends being in danger too.

Then, Rapunzel and Cassandra clashed together and the energy was enough to break the black rocks surrounding him, and push him away a few feet. He was fighting the strong gusts of wind when he heard a cry from behind him, and turned just soon enough to see Varian being pushed over the edge.

Eugene thought he screamed but he wasn't sure - there was too much noise all around and blood was rushing to his ears.

He scrambled after him, the wind pushing him harshly to his knees midway - but he got up again, he ignored the pain in his bones and rose up because he needed to see- needed to go and try to fix this, even if it already felt like he was too late because Varian fell and they were so high up the ground-

Eugene stumbled again near the edge and crawled the few inches left, his head sticking out over the staggering height. He felt sick, Varian's cry of terror like a twisted knife in his body - and Eugene knew something about those.

It felt like a dream, then, when he saw the tiny figures right under him - first a recognisable red-head, Catalina, then Angry right at her side, Lance and… Varian, in Lance's arms. It took several more seconds before Eugene managed to breathe again, laughing nervously as he was overwhelmed with relief. He closed his eyes and thought numbly that they had been lucky, so so lucky, but his body was still thrumming with anxiety and fear.

The energy of the sundrop and the moonstone disappeared and Eugene got shakily to his feet, running to the second focus of his worry: Rapunzel. He joked that she had been awesome, and she was too exhausted and wrung out to see that his smile wasn't quite reaching his eyes - which was good since Varian didn't seem to know that Eugene had saw him go over the edge.

Everyone was acting normal, so Eugene bottled up the terror he couldn't quite shake, and they went home.

------

"Hey Varian, are you- oh my god get down from here are you crazy?!"

"Hi Eugene!" Varian greeted brightly, ignoring the unmanly screech as he balanced himself precariously on a ladder, trying to reach the highest part of his new contraption. "You'll never guess what this do!"

"Varian-"

"I mean, I know I wouldn't have guessed, considering that this is beyond what currently exist, but I'm also the creator so nothing is impossible for me-"

"Kid-"

"Well some things are, impossible that is, but not this and once I tell you what this is I think you'll be pretty amazed that-"

"Varian!" Eugene's voice was loud enough to interrupt the alchemist's excited ramblings, something dark and scared hiding in his tone. Varian looked down at his friend, the other half of team awesome, and noticed that Eugene was white as a sheet. "I- Varian, please, can you get down from here?"

It was supposed to be a request but sounded so much like begging that Varian complied immediately, sliding down the ladders in barely three seconds. Eugene seemed ready to protest, but sighed instead, his shoulders sagging as he put his hand through his hair. Going by said hair, more precisely its disheveled state, something was seriously wrong with Eugene.

"Are you alright, Eugene?" Varian asked, biting his lips.

"Who, me?" Eugene laughed, the sound too high pitched to be genuine. "Pff, yeah I'm fiiine, always am! Anyway, uh, I have to- to- brush my hair, so see ya!"

And just like that, he was gone, without even asking what he came here for. Varian blinked at the half-opened door worriedly, rubbing his own arm as Ruddiger settled around his neck to comfort him. Since the events with Cassandra, Eugene had been downright weird - always insisting on safety measures, and stopping Varian from doing anything that could result in even a papercut as long as he was in the room. At first, Varian basked in the new found attention; then he was frustrated by Eugene's overwhelming protectiveness, because he wasn't a little kid; but now, he was only confused and concerned about his friend's state of mind.

That was the first time Varian tried to confront him outright, but it had resulted in exactly what he feared: avoidance. He would have worried that Eugene was angry with him, if the man wasn't trying to protect him from every little bruise and cut. His health in general seemed to be the centre of Eugene's concerns, these days, as the man also lectured him on good eating and sleeping habits.

Though, going by the dark circles under Eugene's eyes, that was irony at its finest.

Varian grimaced, looking up to his ladder but abandoning this project for a while, not in the mood anymore. He gathered his tools and tried to think back at what could have provoked this shift, why Eugene wouldn't trust him with his safety anymore, when it hit him.

Trust.

Since Varian had been kidnapped, Eugene lost his trust in him being able to take care of himself correctly. Upset at the thought, Varian frowned, before coming to a conclusion: he had to gain that trust back. He had to show Eugene that he shouldn't worry.

Easier said than done.

------

Eugene knew that he couldn't keep this up forever, couldn't avoid Varian forever, and he already felt guilty enough about it. However, he also knew that he needed to get a grip on himself - he could hear how overbearing he was being with the kid and, despite cringing internally at his own behaviour, he couldn't stop himself from interrupting each time there was the slightest sign of danger. His mind kept flashing back to that day, at the top of that damn tower - different but identical in the way that mattered, because he nearly lost another person dear to him in there.

Eugene looked at Varian now, and could only hear his desperate cry for help as he tumbled over the edge. Eugene looked at Varian, looked at the things that could harm him, and his heart started to beat so loudly he wondered if anyone could hear it except him, wondered if anyone could see the trembling of his own hands. So Eugene intervened, because the worst thing that could happen was being too late again when he could have done something - luck wouldn't always be on their side.

That also meant he was being an horrible and controlling friend. Which is why he avoided Varian, which in return made him an even worse friend - vicious circles were like that.

Seeing Varian up on that ladder a week ago made his whole body tense in panic so quickly that it was a wonder Eugene managed to flee - and, after that, it took a very long time for him to be able to breathe normally again. And Eugene knew, he was certain he couldn't impose his own problems on the kid because Varian didn't deserve that - he'd have to deal with his issues first, and everything could come back to normal, and they would be team awesome again.

For the time being, though, he was an horrible friend.

Eugene groaned and buried his face on his pillow. He had to shake off the fear that gripped his gut when he thought back on the few seconds when he thought he would find Varian's sprawled body when he looked down - had to shake off the terror of thinking that this kid, his friend, had died in the middle of a conflict he had no business with, and tha5 Eugene had been useless to save him. Easy, right?

A knock interrupted his swirling thoughts and he frowned. It wasn't late exactly, but Eugene was pretty sure he had nothing planned for this evening, and he was also pretty sure that Rapunzel had other duties to attend, so it couldn't be her. He got up and-

"Hello Eugene!" Varian chirped excitedly, pushing back his goggles in his hair. "Got ten minutes or so?"

"Varian?" Eugene yelped, before he plastered an anxious smile on his face. "I, uh, I'd like too but-"

"I checked with the Princess, your schedule is clear for the evening," the alchemist singsonged without losing a beat.

Varian took Eugene's sleeve and tugged him out of his room without leaving him the time to protest, leading him toward the guards training area. Eugene could only gap at the multiple installations that were clearly not here earlier, and who looked like something you could find in the challenge of the brave. Hardcore version.

"I present you," Varian announced with a dramatic flair Eugene could only admire, "the TRUST! Or Training Regimen to be Used Safely and Tactically, as you wish!"

"What?" Eugene asked dumbly, taking in the spiky ball hung mid-air on a pendulum, or the obviously unsafe axe-throwing area or-

"Well, I noticed you've been very protective of me recently, and I think I know why." Varian nodded at his own words, ignoring the contrived stare Eugene gave him. "This is my way to show you that, even if Cassandra did kidnap me, it doesn't mean that I can't take care of myself!"

"Varian, that's not-"

"I don't blame you, don't worry!" Varian smiled weakly, self-conscious. "I mean, I guess I can understand that you would think I constantly need help, my life is rhythmed by disasters, but you don't need to worry constantly about me and I'll prove it to you right now!"

Varian made his way to the TRUST and pushed a lever Eugene hadn't seen, making all the different obstacles move in a very creative fashion, certainly, but also terribly dangerous. Eugene picked up his jaw from the ground before grabbing the kid's arm and stopping him as he made his way to the spiky pendulum, swaying from right to left quickly.

"Varian you don't need to do that," Eugene pleaded, guilt churning in his stomach.

"Of course I do!" Varian answered angrily, tearing his arm from the hold and backing off toward the contraption without looking. "You don't trust me anymore Eugene and this, this is my way to regain your trust. I- We can't be team awesome if you don't think I'm good enough to protect myself!"

"It's not that," Eugene insisted, "not at all Varian! It's not that I don't trust you, it's that I… I…" he stuttered, feeling his throat dry up as the dreaded images popped back in his head.

Varian took another step back, hurt, and Eugene knew he was fucking this all up but the words wouldn't come to him. Then, he saw the pendulum come their way and realised that Varian had backed off way too much - he didn't even scream his name, instead throwing himself on the kid and making both of them tumble on the ground, to safety. Well, more or less, going by the stinging pain in Eugene's arm - a glance told him that a spike had come too close for comfort.

"Oh god I'm sorry!" Varian exclaimed fearfully, grabbing at Eugene's arm before searching frantically in the bag he carried. "Wait, there's got to be bandages here, I'm sure-"

"Hey, kid, it's okay," Eugene reassured gently, both of them still sitting down on the ground as the could hear the swishing noise the pendulum made behind them. "It's only a graze."

"Yeah, a graze cause by one of my inventions! Again!" Varian's voice broke, and he lowered his eyes, his hair falling in front of his eyes. "Maybe you're right not to trust me," he mumbled, "everything I build ends up hurting the wrong people…"

"Varian," Eugene called firmly, his hand going under the kid's chin and raising his head, "I trust you. Actually, I trust you a lot more than most people, and your inventions may cause problems, but they also constantly help us. They're brilliant, kid."

Seeing the alchemist unconvinced and sad look made Eugene sigh, his free hand tightening against his own leg.

"You remember the mess with Cassandra at the tower, right?" Eugene asked, as if Varian could have forgot - even waiting until the kid nodded, nonplussed. "You… fell, off the tower."

"Yeah," Varian nodded quietly, the memory an unpleasant recurring guest in his nightmares, "Lance was there to catch me, though, I told you."

"You told me," Eugene assented quietly, "but I already knew, because I saw you fall."

Varian's eyes widened as he opened his mouth, before closing it with an audible snap. Eugene's eyes were looking at him, but they seemed glazed over, far away from the situation. His hands were trembling.

"I saw you go over the edge and… I thought-" Eugene trailed off, his voice too quiet to continue, before Varian sneaked his hand to take his. "It took me nearly twenty seconds to get to the edge and, for every of them, I was sure I would find you- find you dead. And I know I've been overbearing recently but- I can't get this fear out of my heart. I'm sorry, Varian," Eugene offered earnestly, "I know that I need to get over this but… I don't know what I'll do if something happened to you."

Varian hugged Eugene tightly right when he finished the story, his goggles digging painfully in Eugene's cheek.

"Thank you," Varian whispered, "for caring about me."

"Of course I do," Eugene whispered too, his arms settling around the kid's back. "You're one of my closest friend. Team awesome, am I right?"

"Team awesome!" Varian yelled in answer, nearly deafening Eugene for a moment as he jumped back to his feet. The kid paused, before proposing shyly: "Let's make a deal: I swear to do my most dangerous activities with someone to help supervise the experiment, if you swear you can accept that I am competent enough to do most things alone."

"Sounds good to me," Eugene grinned, happy that they made progress today - once they escaped the training equipment from hell.

He didn't think everything was fixed - didn't think he could stop being afraid for Varian so suddenly - but it was a first step in the right direction. As long as they were team awesome, they could surpass any obstacle.

#Eugene Appreciation Week #Varian is a sweet child who doesn't understand that some people are scared for him #Eugene is a tired Dad Friend who wants to shake the child until he's bundled into protective gear #first time writing team awesome so I hope it wasn't too bad!#Eugene Fitzherbert #Varian #Tangled

128 notes · View notes

whitecatindisguise · 4 years

Text

So I got a really weird and creepy dream last night and it kept pestering me, so I had to write this down.

Trigger warning: character death, no happy ending

-------

Till Death Do Us Part

The weather was perfect. The sun was shining from above, granting the heat and light, oblivious to the scene taking place in a small town of Old Corona.

Rapunzel's shoulders trembled as she tried her best not to cry. The wooden casket was slowly lowered into the hole, disappearing from her view.

To her right, Quirin was trembling, spasms of tears shaking his whole frame. She had never seen the man so broken before. He was the epitome of calmness. To see him in such a state... it was heartbreaking.

Adira and Hector both stood next to him, each on one of his side. She could see no tears in their eyes, but she knew they were feeling similar.

The gravedigger threw the first shovel of dirt down the hole and the large man let out a wail. His shoulders shook and if it wasn't for Adira grabbing his arm, he would have jumped down the hole himself.

"No! No! No!" He cried, large tears falling down his eyes. "Why? Why him?!"

"Brother, there was nothing we could do." Adira's voice was steady but one could detect a hint of sadness in it.

"I should have been there with him! It should have been me!" He cried, the woman petting him in comforting manner on the shoulder.

Rapunzel's breath hitched and she snuggled closer to her husband, his strong arm and warmth of his body helping just a little.

Eugene tensed at the words, his face frowning. His other hand tugged on his uniform, the Captain badge feeling like a dead weight at his chest. He was there, he remembered with a heavy heart. He was there but he was too late.

Finally, the last of the hole was covered and people started to leave. They each made sure to approach Quirin, saying their condolences and hugging the man. Soon, it was only few of them left, the Schnitz family, himself and Rapunzel, his father and the Brotherhood.

None of them dared to move, afraid that if they do they acknowledged that he was gone. Eugene sighed heavily and untangled his wife's arm from his, slowly approaching the older man.

"Quirin... I am sorry." He said, his eyes downcast. He already lost the count the number of times he said those words. But it didn't make his heart feel better, less broken. "If I only got there faster..."

"Its not your fault, Fitzherbert." Hector murmured. It felt weird to be comforted by the man, but he appreciated that, even if it didn't help.

"I should have been there." Quirin repeated, his voice hoarse and raspy from all the crying. "He asked me a million times to come but I always said I was to busy to attend some school event. If only I'd known..."

"But you didn't." Adira repeated firmly, as she did over and over since that fateful day. "None of us did..." Her eyes moved to Eugene and he smiled just a little.

"It's not your fault some crazy maniac decided to burst in with a gun and start shooting to a bunch of kids." Hector said, his voice harsh.

Everyone cringed at the reminder. It was the talk of the town for the past days.

A shootout in the local high-school.

Massacre in Old Corona High.

Teenager dies saving his peers.

The headlines were the awfully true, the articles for once telling the facts, without lying.

During an annual Science Expo in Old Corona High, a crazy man suddenly entered the gym, where the event was taking place, and started shooting. Many of the students died, the whole room turning into chaos. In all this, a single student ran up to the attacker, trying to disarm him. During the struggle the gun fired, hitting the teenager straight in the chest. When the police arrived soon after, the boy was bleeding to death.

Eugene clearly remembered holding his bloodied body close, crying and praying for him to not close his eyes, to stay awake, the paramedics were coming. He remembered how the boy, struggling to breathe, asked if they managed to catch the attacker. How his face lit up just a little when he reassured him they did, that nobody else died.

He remembered how he said to tell his father, he's sorry, how his bloodied hand fell limply to his side, chest falling and not rising again, blue eyes closing.

He cried that night. He cried every night after that day, nightmares haunting him every time he even dared to close his eyes.

If only he was faster, if only he managed to get through the crowd of panicked teenagers in time, if only...

"Eugene..." Rapunzel sounded to his left, her voice quiet and unsure. He looked over, her eyes red and puffy, tears lingering at the corners. "I... can we go home, please...?"

"... of course, Sunshine..." He mustered a slight smile and turned to Quirin. "Again... I'm sorry."

Quirin didn't answer, nodding only so slightly. Eugene reached for his wife's hand and they left along with Edmund, Lance taking sobbing Kiera and Catalina soon after.

It was only three of them now. Them... and the gravestone. He felt a hand landing on his shoulder.

"Brother..." Adira's voice was soft but demanding. He knew what she meant. He took one last glance at the gravestone, before turning on his heel, the words burning in his memory.

In loving memory of Varian. A great son, nephew, brother and friend. We are proud of you.

------

Okay, I literally made myself cry. I am so sorry for that. I don't know what get into me. But the idea was stuck in my head and didn't want to let go.

I deeply apologise for making any of you cry. I have no excuse, except for my brain throwing whump into my face and knocking me down.

#varian #tts #fanfiction #whump #angst #the feels #this will make you cry #character death #no happy ending #I am terribly sorry

50 notes · View notes

notyetneedcoffee · 5 years

Text

Blocked Number

Part Three of the Calling Series

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Violence, including past domestic violence, stalker behavior

* * *

The phone tucked into the seat beside you vibrated. None of your colleagues noticed as they discussed the latest news over prime rib sandwiches and cobb salads. Pulling the device up enough to see the screen, you fought to keep your face neutral.

A ‘Thinking of you’ text was followed a picture of Bucky’s wrist disappearing into the waistband of his generously tented sweatpants.

He knew your lunch today would be with work friends. You’d discussed it last night when he called. The team was on an assignment in Japan at the moment so it had to be close to two o’clock in the morning there. Bucky planned this. The shit.

Another buzz. You looked down. ‘You’d better respond, Doll.’ the message said. ‘Or I’ll have F.R.I.D.A.Y. override the silent feature on your phone.’ The small video attached showed just a close up him stroking himself.

You shifted in your seat, thighs rubbing together. Damn him.

Holding your phone in your lap you sent back, ‘Asshole. You know I’m in public. I fucking miss you.'

‘I want to bury my face between your legs.’ Came the immediate response.

‘You’re making me wet.’

‘I’ll make you scream when I suck on that tasty cunt.’

“Y/N, is everything okay?” You jumped when Jackie drew your attention.

You could feel your face redden. “Sorry. I, uh, I just got some classified information that I have to deal with. Would you excuse me for just a minute?”

The phone buzzed in your hand twice before you made it to the alcove by the bathrooms.

‘Tell me how wet you are.’

‘I need an answer, Dollface.’

You responded, ‘So excited I had to leave the table. Damn you.’

A moment passed before another video clip came through. His metal hand was lubed up and glistening, cock pumping in his tight grip. You felt your panties flood. Damn that was gorgeous. You dared turn the volume up just enough to hear him moan your name. Fuck.

You leaned a little closer into the dark corner, tapping away at your phone. ‘So. Fucking. Hot. Just want to come all over you.’

‘Tell me.’

A wicked smile crossed your face. ‘Can’t wait for you stretch me open and sink your cock in me. Will you be able to wait until we’re home or will you just fuck me in hanger as soon as you arrive?’

‘Hanger.’

‘Fuck, yes. Just press me against the wall and fuck me hard. Don’t care who hears. I want your cock in me. Make me scream.’

‘Yes. Need you. Dnt care wo seees. Your mine.’ His fingers lost dexterity.

Smiling, you imagined every move. ‘Yours. Fucking pound me. Want it so bad. Make me come all over you. Fuck yes. Come for me.’

Staring at the screen you could feel the slick between your legs. Damn.

‘Damn, Doll. I think I need a bath towel to clean myself up.’

‘Lol. Happy to help, except now I’m dripping.’

‘Yum.’

‘You’re going to make up for this when you get back tomorrow.’ You smirked at the phone.

‘Without a doubt. I know I’ve got the best dame on the planet,’ came his reply. Mind blowing great sexual connection aside, you’d never been with a man who treated you with the respect and reverence that Bucky did. He showed it in actions and told you in his words. It may not be traditional, but it was damn special.

‘Can’t wait to see you.’

‘Go eat lunch and try to act like a good girl. Leave that pussy wet for me.’

‘Asshole.’

‘Miss you too’

* * *

Popping into a little bakery on the way back from a quick trip to pick out some new shoes, you decided to grab something to have on hand when Bucky got back. While you waited for the plum tarts to be boxed up your phone rang with an unfamiliar number.

“Dr. Y/L/N”

“You went back to your maiden name.”

The shopping bag hit the floor. Your eyes darted around. All the other patrons and the two people behind the counter looked curiously back at you. Bending over slowly to pick up the bag, you turned toward the wall.

Taking a calming breath, trying to keep the panic from your voice, you finally responded. “How did you get this number? You’re not allowed to call me.”

“Oh, didn’t you hear. I’m out.”

Bile rose in your throat.

“What’s the matter? Haven’t you missed me?”

You hung up the phone. A hand touched your shoulder. You jumped, letting out a choked gasp. The kindly looking woman held both her hands up. “Sorry to startle you, dear. You alright?”

“Fine. Thank you.”

“Ma’am. Here’s your order.” The kid behind the counter handed the box to you.

“Thanks.” You shuffled out of the way. Before leaving the you took the opportunity to block the unknown number from your phone. That voice need never be heard again.

The walk back to the tower happened in record time. Weaving between people, keeping a sharp eye out for a face burned into your memory, you just wanted to be in the safe confines of Bucky’s apartment.

You were in the elevator, leaning back against the cool brushed steel wall, when your phone buzzed. The text message read, ‘It won’t be as easy as blocking a number. You should know better.’

“Fuck.” Tears burned your eyes, but you fought them back. No, he does not get to play these sick games. You blew by the empty common areas and straight to the apartment. Not pausing to put anything away, you pulled up both numbers and searched the area codes, one from Denver and one from Eugene. Great.

As the night went on, you received picture of the motel in Santa Cruz where you first slept together from a phone with a Phoenix area code. You blocked it. You got a text message as you brushed your teeth with the lyrics of the Guns N’ Roses song he’d sing whenever he’d get drunk. You blocked that number from Tulsa. As you were lying in bed, wearing Bucky’s shirt and holding his pillow to your chest, you receive the texted picture of an avocado green bathtub. Stomach roiling, remembering a tub like that covered in your blood from the beating. Your fingers shook when you blocked the New York City number.

* * *

Bucky opened the door silently at a quarter to four, fully expecting you to be sound asleep. Instead, he caught you up in his arms as you flew over the back of the sofa. His duffel hit the floor and he laughed.

“Hey, Doll.” He squeezed you tight. When you didn’t let go right away, he pushed you back. Cupping your face in his warm palm, blue eyes studied you carefully. “You okay?”

Nodding, you did your best to smile as you lied. “I just had a bad dream and couldn’t go back to sleep. I’m so happy you’re back.”

He stared a bit longer, doubt gnawing at his gut. He saw the fear in your face, knew there was something you didn’t want to say. But he didn’t talk about his nightmares either. So, he just kissed you slowly, thoroughly.

You’d spent hours agonizing over what to tell Bucky. You didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to admit who you were back then. The thought of him looking at you as weak or stupid; it would be unbearable. That bastard just got off on scaring you. It was likely all a bluff anyway.

Still, sleep eluded you all night. So, when Bucky took you to bed, instinctively being attentive and gentle as he worshiped your body, releasing all your tension and finally wrapping you in the safe cocoon of his arm, you fell into a deep sleep.

He watched you, wishing he knew what was wrong.

A while later, just as his eyes began to drift close a buzz drew his attention. Your phone vibrated. He picked it up. From the lock screen he saw multiple call attempts from multiple different blocked numbers. Alarms went off in his head. What the hell?

He debated rolling you over and seeing if the facial recognition worked on your sleeping face, but he decided if there was a problem, he would rather have better resources. Looking at your sleeping face, Bucky just didn’t understand why you weren’t saying anything.

* * *

Having the day off, you slept in and Bucky got up to make you coffee. After pulling on your favorite tee shirt of his and a pair of boy shorts, you curled on the sofa with the remote. You left your phone in the bedroom, Bucky noticed. It wasn’t normal for you.

“Doll,” Bucky looked at his own phone. “Do you have anything important going on the first week of October?”

“I don’t know. Why?”

He gave you a coy smile over his coffee mug. “Don’t be nosy. Could you be free if you needed to be or not?”

“Let me see.” You disappeared into the bedroom with a grin on your face. When you flipped your phone over seeing more attempts from the last blocked numbers, and a new texted photo. A 1998 4Runner, just like the one he crashed into your Honda. You blocked the number and put the phone screen down on the nightstand.

“Well?” Bucky asked from the door.

“Um.” You swallowed, realizing you never looked. “That week is great.” You plastered a smile on your face, “I’m going hop in the shower.”

He watched you go, face falling. Damn. The alarm bells in his head were increasing to full on klaxons. Throwing on jeans and a tee shirt, Bucky popped his head in the shower. “Y/N, I’m running down to clear my gear. It’s only going take a couple minutes. Do you want me to bring breakfast back here or do you want to go out?”

“Can we just hang out here?”

“Anything you want, Doll.” You kissed him, soaking his face. He only grinned. “I’ll be right back”

Bucky left, heading straight to Natasha’s door. “Barnes.”

“I need your help.”

“With?”

“I think someone is harassing Y/N. I need to see her phone records.” When her eyebrow arched, he continued. “Every instinct I have says she scared and she’s not telling me for some reason.”

“You might not like the answer.”

“Don’t care. Here safety is more important.”

“Good answer.” She held the door open more. “Get in here.”

Within minutes Nat had multiple numbers, text messages, and time of the brief phone call the day before. “You’re right, Bucky. Something is up. They’re all burner phones. They were all bought with cash or cash cards. All the calls did ping off towers in Manhattan though.”

“What do all the texts mean?”

“You could ask her.” Bucky scowled in response. Nat sighed. “Or... F.R.I.D.A.Y., please perform a confidential analysis protocol Romanoff Beta Zulu Four Six Alpha.”

“Proceed.”

“Please run an analysis of the blocked calls and messages of Y/N’s phone from the last 24 hours and cross reference with her profile for any correlation.”

It only took a moment. “There is an 87% probability the messages are originating from Dr. Y/L/N’s ex-Husband, Richard Vance. There is a 98% probability the message are pertaining to Richard Vance.”

“Explain.” Bucky ground out through a clenched jaw.

“According to police and court files the images in the text messages correspond to the cases of assault filed by Dr. Y/L/N. The California State Department of Corrections reports Mr. Vance has been released to supervised living facility but failed to report back after work release seventeen days ago.”

“Cases.” Bucky closed his eyes. He wanted to break something. “As in plural.”

“Yes, Seargeant.”

“Shit.” Nat huffed angrily.

Bucky opened his eyes, wishing he hadn’t. The case files filled the screen, including the pictures taken of you at the hospital. Black eyes, split lip, bruised jaw. Other pictures show bruised ribs, defensive marks on your hands and arms.

“Where is he?”

“Barnes, if you...”

“Traffic cameras have identified him 16 time around the W 42nd Street area in the last 72 hours.” F.R.I.D.A.Y. replied.

“Thanks.” Bucky turned to leave.

“Barnes.” Nat grabbed his arm. “Has she told you about any of this?”

“No” His chest tightened. He should have known.

“Listen, tread carefully. She’s likely...”

“Scared? Yeah. I get that. I intend on fixin’ it.” Bucky growled.

“No, ashamed.” Natasha sighed. When he just stared at her, she continued. “Aside from the guilt of what you did, what is the worse thing about your time under Hydra? How many times have you told yourself you should have been stronger, should have fought against it harder, should have broke free sooner? I get you want to kill that bastard. I’d help you. But you need to push that shit down for her sake. You need to help her, not feed your need for revenge.”

Bucky nodded in silent agreement, leaving without another word. The walk back to the apartment took longer than expected. He kept having to stop, suddenly not able to breathe. That bastard hurt you and now he was taunting you. Bucky felt the Soldier surge, wanting to commit cold blooded murder.

Opening the door, he suddenly remembered breakfast. He never stopped at the kitchen to get anything. It didn’t matter. He found you sitting on the edge of the bed in a towel, tears streaking your face. A dent marred the wall and your broken phone littered the floor.

“Y/N.” Bucky approached slowly, quietly, dropping to his knees before you. “Dollface, tell me. Please.”

“My ex is out of prison. They were supposed to let me know. They didn’t. He...” Tears filled your eyes again. “I should have never gotten mixed up with him.”

His hands cupped your face. Full soft lips pressed against your cheeks, your forehead. “Is he scaring you? Threatening you? In any way?”

“I don’t want you in trouble.” A sob broke from your chest.

Something snapped. Bucky bolted from the room, leaving you gasping. Shit. Grasping the towel around yourself you dashed after him. However, he was long gone. The door down the hall opened, Steve’s head popping out. Another sob, escaped. There was hope.

Rushing forward you grabbed Steve’s shirt. “Buck is going to kill him.”

Just then Nat turned the corner from the common area. “Y/N,” She took your hand from his shirt. “I just ran into Barnes. We’ll talk him down. You go get dressed, okay.”

It was all overwhelming. Feeling lost, you just did what she said.

Natasha turned to a very confused Cap. “Come on, Rogers. We have to help Barnes hunt down the asshat that’s threatening her.”

It didn’t take long.

Bucky heard the girl scream from two floors down. His feet carried him the distance before she could take another breath. Busting through the pitiful door, he found a too skinny redhead curled up in the corner under a piece of shit table. Broken glass and spilled beer covered one side of the room.

Bucky grabbed the man by the throat, hauling him off his feet. “Hiya, Dick.”

Steve came in, scooping the woman up and tell her it would be okay. She in turn screamed that “that motherfucker owes me money” despite her bruised jaw. Neither the woman or Vance noticed the female with the phone camera recording everything.

Bucky lowered Vance to his feet, barely. “There’s a bounty on you, Dick. Why would you be stupid enough to come here?”

“None of your fucking business.” Vance tried to strike at Bucky’s face, but got his fingers broke for the effort. He screamed. Then begged when Buck didn’t let go of his hand.

“You gonna try to hit me again, you pansy-ass? I think I’ll hold on to these for now. Why are you here?”

“Looking up an old friend.” He whined.

“Friend? Bullshit.”

“Ow! My ex! Okay! I’m just looking to get in touch with my ex.”

Bucky’s teeth ground together.

“You have a no contact order with Dr. Y/L/N,” came Natasha voice. “You’ll be placed under arrest for breaking the conditions of your release, assault of that woman, breaking your no contact order, attempted assault of federal agent...” Bucky smirked at that stretch of their status. “and credit card fraud.”

“What?!”

About that time several SHIELD agents came in and took him into custody. After he was handcuffed, Bucky leaned in close to growl in his ear. “I’m the assassin that assassins fear. You even think of Y/N again and I will find you. I will take my time killing you. It will be terrifying. It will be beyond painful. No one will ever catch me. No will ever find any proof. And I will have no sympathy. No one hurts what’s mine. Ever. Do you understand?”

Vance went very pale. Bucky smiled, feral, before walking away. Natasha got a little closer. “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She leaned casually against the wall. “You’re just going back to prison. You could have easily end up as human mulch in a landfill. Lucky you.”

“You’re fucking nuts. I’m going to tell my lawyer you’re threatening me.” Vance cowered.

Steve stepped up, Vance getting a good look at Captain America for the first time. “You go right ahead. I’ll be there to tell him about the beat-up woman I pulled out of here, and all the great stuff she told me about how you’ve been stealing credit cards. But you go on and tell them how you’re treated unfairly.”

Down by the SHEILD van, Bucky was on his phone when Steve and Natasha stepped up. He slipped in his pocket. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” Steve’s hand squeezed his shoulder. “You did the right thing.”

“I wanted to break his neck.”

“I know, me too.”

“You better get back.” Nat sighed. “We’ll handle all the red tape.”

“Okay.” He didn’t argue, hopping in the spare car and taking off.

* * *

You stared at the television not really comprehending what was on. Bucky had been gone for hours. A million regrets poured through your mind. All the lost opportunities to tell him the whole truth about your past. How you skirted around the details and glossed over the uglier parts. You’d done it so much in the last five years, it’d just become habit. If anyone deserved to know, if anyone would be supportive, it was Bucky. You felt like you really fucked up.

The Bucky’s text tone buzzed on your phone. ‘Don’t worry, Doll. It’s okay. Be home soon.’

‘Thank heaven. I was so worried.’ You replied.

Then a picture came through. It was a document. You zoomed in. Holy shit. It was a Federal Arrest Filing for Rich. You read through it. They tracked him down and busted him. Sending him back to prison. A knot released in your chest.

Bucky walked in the door as you were reading the final page of the document. Leaping to your feet, your arms wrapped around his shoulders. He held you tight for a moment, before his lips found yours. Foreheads together, he stroked you jaw with his thumb.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you.” Your eye closed against the tears. You didn’t want to cry anymore. “I should have, and I’ll make it right. Anything you want to know.”

“You can tell me anything, absolutely anything. But it’s got to be in your time, in your way. I won’t force it.” His strong hands combed through your hair.

“I thought you’d kill him.”

“Wanted to.” He admitted. “But figured you don’t need to live with that. This way is better.” A wicked smile crossed his face. “Of course, I warned him if he steps out of line, he’ll wish I just killed him quick.”

You had a perverse image of Bucky threatening that dickhead for you and curled closer into his strong body, purring. “My hero.”

That not only filled his chest with pride, but went straight to his cock. Picking you up, he carried you back to the bedroom. He wanted to wipe away any memories of tears. He breathed against your lips. “Damn, Doll. I love you.”

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic

821 notes · View notes

himbowelsh · 4 years

Note

Oh my lord, I went through your shiftab tag and read the secret admirer oneshot, it was so cute! 😭 I know you aren't taking requests for those particular prompts but if possible, could you write a similar 'secret admirer' storyline for winnix or baberoe? Gosh please I'd die of happiness!

i have... done the thing. went with baberoe, because honestly i’m never not craving more content between those two, and there are considerably more ghosts than you probably wanted, but i really hope you enjoy, darling!!!

(read here on ao3)

Every one of his better instincts — and, contrary to popular belief, Babe does have a few — is screaming that this is an awful idea.

Quit your Irish dancing around the problem and fuckin’ do it, Bill would say, if only Bill were here. Babe knows exactly what advice Bill Guarnere would give — he can hear it in Bill’s voice, like the man’s shouting it, an entire ocean away. Still, an imagined echo is no substitute for the real thing. Babe can dream up as many Guarnere platitudes as his brain can handle... but they still won’t solve the problem in front of him now.

Namely, a blank piece of paper.

“God dammit,” he says out loud. “I don’t know how to do this.”

There’s no one around to hear him. More and more nowadays, there isn’t. He never used to talk to himself before — that was always something crazy people did, in Babe’s experience, and he could be called a lot of things, but crazy was never one of ‘em. People like Crazy Joe McKloskey could stand on the street corner talking to a lamppost like it could understand him. That’s fine, because it was crazy Joe. Babe Heffron, who delivered papers and chased his brothers through the backstreets of South Philly, never talked to himself... maybe because he was never alone.

To be fair, he’s at war, and it’s tough to be alone in a company of a hundred other guys. He’s gotten good at it, though. Gene was the one who showed him how to seek out peace when he needed it, taught him all the good places to hide, how to go away somewhere in your head the rest of the world couldn’t reach. He’d never needed those skills before, but now that he’s learned them, they’ve proved invaluable. More and more nowadays, with nothing to do but soak in the Austrian summer, Babe finds himself wanting to be alone.

Yeah, sometimes he talks to himself... only because the people he wants to be around, the people who damn well should be here, aren’t.

You’re overthinking it, the voice in his head that sounds too much like Julian declares. When Babe looks up, he can almost see him — his old buddy, leaning back on a crate on the other side of the musky garret room. Julian has a way of lounging that was so casual it made him look boneless. He was a spreader, too — how many damn times did Babe have to shove him to the other side of the foxhole because Julian’s knee was digging into one of his damn organs? The kid liked to take up space. His ghost absorbs it now, studying Babe with a sort of mocking smirk. Look. Practically tearing your hair out, and you’ve barely even written a word yet.

“Yeah, well, it’s harder than you’d think.”

Babe’s not a letter writer. He never has been. His wrists cramp up when he holds a pen too long, and he can’t find the words anyways. His kid sister writes long letters, filled with funny anecdotes and memories from home; his Ma’s letters are shorter, succinct, and bluntly affectionate. Even Bill sent a message, after agonizing months of silence, letting the whole company know he’s doing alright, back home in the states. Babe treasures every letter he receives, tucking them away in his trunk between his underwear and his Bible... but the entire war, he’s only written his family three times. So far, he can’t bring himself to write to Bill at all.

Yeah, because you’re a lazy bum. There’s Old Guarnere again. He’s standing next to Julian — on both legs, whole and healthy — arms crossed as he blatantly judges Babe’s writing ability. The ceiling’s so low, on a steady downward slope, that Bill’s head hits it every time he moves. Babe can see the disgruntled faces he makes, clear as day, and it draws a laugh from him in spite of himself.

“I just — it can’t be any old letter, okay? It’s gotta be perfect. I need it to be perfect.”

You need to take a nap and quit pretending you’re a better writer than you are, Bill scoffs. When has anything you’ve ever written been perfect?

Babe presses his palm hard against his forehead, fingers tugging at his uncombed mess of hair. “That’s the problem, dammit. It ain’t gonna be perfect... but it’s what he deserves.”

If this goddamn war has taught him anything, it’s that Eugene Roe deserves nothing less than the best. The war sure hasn’t been shy about giving him the worst, over and over again. Gene’s hands have been stained with so much blood that it’s a wonder he can still look at them — can still go about his life as normal, humoring nervous patients and summoning a smile when the other fellas rib him — when he’s dealt with more shit than any of them. Babe just heard about his best friend getting his leg blown off. Gene was the one on his knees in the snow, scrambling to save Bill’s life. Yet when Babe retreated into himself afterwards, grief-stricken and reeling, Gene was the one who anchored him to earth. His quiet conversation and soft smiles put Babe back together, piece by piece at a time. He’s got a gift for healing, in ways he doesn’t even realize. A guy like that... deserves every good thing in the world, and Babe wants to hand them all to him.

As it is, he can’t even write one lousy letter.

“He’s gonna hate it. He’s gonna... throw it right back in my face, cause he realizes he’s talking to a guy who can’t spell ‘adoration’. He’s gonna... he’s gonna...”

Laugh. Except that’s not like Gene at all. Be goddamn disgusted... except Babe knows Gene well enough by now to know that’s not like him either. It’s hard to tell with other guys, especially in the army, where shared foxholes can so easily blur the lines between friend and lover... but he’s seen a gleam in Gene’s eyes when other fellas talk about Rita Hayworth and Betty Grable, like he’s just humoring the conversation while wishing it’d go somewhere else. Babe knows the feeling. No, Gene could do anything, but he wouldn’t be disgusted that a guy loves him.

Maybe... just that it’s Babe.

Now you’re really being an idiot, Julian moans, tipping his head back towards the sky. Babe’s first instinct is to throw something at him — the hand holding his pencil twitches, but he’s only got one, and there’s no satisfaction in swinging at ghosts.

“I don’t know what to say,” he mutters, rubbing a hand over his jaw again. Dear Gene, the letter reads. I’m writing because I need to tell you...

That’s as far as he’s got. Not even a full goddamn sentence.

Have you considered... you’re overthinking it? You’ve gotta actually write something before deciding you hate what you’ve written.

“Julian, you’re a regular goddamn philosophizer.”

I’m just saying!

Suddenly, Julian is no longer on the other side of the room. He’s looming right over Babe’s shoulder, his presence like a weight bearing down on Babe’s back. Every twitch of his hand is being observed, every uncertain breath noted. Geez, he didn’t crack during jump school training, but this pressure is enough to split him in two.

“Forget it!” Babe exclaims, throwing the pencil down onto the paper. “This was a stupid idea, I give up!”

No, you fucking are not.

There’s Bill again — Bill Guarnere, and his unbeatable determination to butt his head into everyone else’s business. Babe lifts his head, glaring into the spot he imagines his best friend standing. Bill’s answering glare is an echo of the real thing… and Christ, what Babe wouldn't do to see that familiar scowl right in front of him, for real! Bill always made things simple. There was no overthinking when he was around. When Babe was being an idiot, Bill told him.

I’m telling you right now, jackass — you're being an idiot.

“And you’re winning motivational speaker of the goddamn year.”

I’m not trying to win anything here. You are, and doing a piss-poor job of it. I could cry just lookin’ at you. Look at this — ‘I’m writing because’? What kinda opening line is that? Did they not teach you how to write letters in grade school, or were them nuns too busy beating the ginger outta your hair?

“Trying their best,” Babe mutters, subconsciously rubbing the back of his head, where the phantom rap of a nun’s knuckles still stings. Today’s a day for phantoms, he guesses. While Julian cackles begins him, Bill’s specter crosses to the desk, hovering over Babe’s paper with a critical eye.

No, he finally declares, like he’s handing Babe’s bayonet back with instructions to polish it all over again. That’s it. You can’t do this.

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Babe exclaims, grateful to hear his subconscious finally agreeing.

You ain’t gonna be able to do this… Bill turns, then reels back around, sticking a finger in Babe’s face. So long as you keep thinking ‘bout what he’s gonna do when you hand it to him. What he’s gonna say once he reads it. You gotta write something before he can read it, you realize that, Babe? And you haven’t written a goddamn word worth reading so far.

Babe assumes there’s a point here somewhere. He curls his fingers around the edge of the letter, waiting for it.

So, if you can’t get outta your own head… then write it as somebody else.

Bill grins, broad and shameless, like he always does when he ain’t making a lick of sense.

“You lost me,” Babe says. “Way back there.”

Keep the letter anonymous, Babe! Bill’s imagined face twists in frustration, his hand coming down to tap the paper. The silent impact rings in Babe’s ears. Don’t sign the thing. Leave it somewhere Doc will find it, and see what he does.

“That defeats the whole purpose of telling him how I feel!” Babe exclaims.

And how much luck are you having with that? demands Julian, coming to stand at Bill’s side. The two of them cross their arms, staring down at Babe with unabashed judgement. Burdened by the weird feeling that he’s being bullied by his own subconscious, he picks up his pencil again. What would Gene’s reaction be to finding a love letter unsigned? Babe imagines him pulling it out from under his pillow, or finding an envelope with his name on it at his makeshift aid station in the basement of Easy’s billets. How his long fingers would unfurl the paper, his lips mouthing the words silently as he read along… how his brows would furrow slowly, disbelief and awe swirling in the dark pools of his eyes… how eventually he’d look up, see Babe standing there waiting on him, and murmur, “Heffron, you’re not gonna believe this…”

And then what? Babe would pull Gene into his arms, and admit he’s loved him all along?

No. No way, not him. Not in this lifetime, at least.

Overthinking, Julian’s voice chimes again, and Babe’s never felt more tempted to swing at a ghost. Will you just write it already?

“Fine, goddammit!” Babe hisses. It’s frustration, really, that gets him to whip out a fresh sheet of paper… and as soon as he starts to write, the words flow from his pen like a dam’s burst open.

See you every day… know your heart… your caring… your sense of humor... impossible not to love you… wouldn’t know how to stop if I tried… love you more than I know what to do with.

I love you.

I’m in love with you, Eugene Roe.

Whatever you want is up to you… but I wrote this letter because I need to let you know.

He doesn’t sign it.

The envelope seals like a promise fulfilled; and when Babe looks up, he’s in the tiny attic alone.

------------------------------------------

It’s just his luck that Gene doesn’t spot the letter until Babe’s standing right next to him, alone in the cozy little infirmary.

Gene doesn’t miss a beat. “Hey,” he says, picking the letter up. “Babe, what’s this?”

There’s nothing on it, is the thing! No way to tell where it came from, and he knows Gene isn’t familiar enough with his handwriting to pick it out of a lineup. Babe stumbles back a step, alarm spiking as Gene holds the letter up. Playing dumb’s his only chance.

“Uhh… looks like a letter, maybe?”

Okay, not that dumb.

“Maybe,” echoes Gene, thoughtful, as he turns the envelope over in his hands. When his gaze is no longer piercing him, Babe can breathe again.

“Where’d you find it?”

“Someone left it on the chair. I sat on it.”

“Wow.” Wow, Babe. Just… wow. “You know, uhh, Vest made his rounds a little while ago, maybe something slipped from his pile. Or maybe he’s playing a joke, huh, you know that Vest —“

Why the hell is he implying Vest wrote his love letter?

“Doubt it was Vest,” Gene mutters, fingernail playing underneath the envelope’s fold as he carefully opens it. He even pries open mail like a doctor, slow and precise. Something in Babe’s heart soars at this tiny detail, and he almost wants to go to his knees in front of Gene right there.

“Well, it had to be someone,” he says instead, taking another few steps back. When he chuckles, it sounds shrill to his ears — like he’s fighting off the urge to scream. God dammit, Heffron, you’ve got all the subtlety of a rock, why’d you think this was a good idea?

It’s not. This is a horrible idea. He can’t look Gene in the face while he’s reading the letter, and if Babe stays here one more minute, he’s gonna give himself away. “Sorry, Gene, but I gotta go now — told Liebgott I’d help him with, uhh, this thing that he — needed help with, and… so yeah, I gotta do that.”

Gene looks up at him, distracted from the letter. Babe manages a grimace, and a tiny wave. “See ya!”

He can’t get out of the basement fast enough. Behind him is only silence, as Gene Roe begins to read.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Gene finds him much later that night, after the sun has already set over Zell-Am-See, painting the town in violet and blue. The late summer sky has always spoken to Babe in a way he can never explain, like a fist locking inside his chest and trying to tug his heart out. It’s nostalgia for a place far away, and a time he can’t return to. As daylight slowly fades out into inky darkness, Babe watches the sky, lost in a time when everything was simpler.

He doesn’t hear Gene coming until he drops onto the window ledge beside him. Babe isn’t jumpy, and Gene’s never startled him yet, so he doesn’t tumble over to the street below in shock… but the look on Gene’s face almost sends him jumping the fifteen feet down.

“Hey, Gene,” he says instead, quickly looking back out at the horizon.

“Hey.” Gene lets the word linger. He fumbles with a cigarette, long fingers moving deftly as he maneuvers his lighter. He gets it lit, and holds it out generously. Babe’s nerves would like nothing more, but his balance can’t take holding onto this will with just one hand. He shakes his head. With a shrug, Gene tucks the cigarette between his own pursed lips.

“You close up shop for the night?”

“Yeah. Unless someone stumbles around drunk and ends up knocking their head… or gets hit with a dart again. Had to pull it outta Perconte’s shoulder the last time.”

“Think I heard that from upstairs. Screaming like a cat the whole time, huh?”

“The man’s been shot before, and he complained less.” Gene exhales through his nose, blowing two long lines of smoke into the air. Babe’s eyes linger on it, transfixed.

“You, uhh —“ Suddenly, he’s frightened of silence, but his mind’s too scattered to keep a conversation in one place. “You get dinner?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

Quiet again. Christ, even when he was a kid, Babe could never stand the quiet; his Ma sometimes pushed him out of the house and locked the door behind him, just to get some peace. Why is it so hard to find words now?

“Look, Heffron —“ Gene starts, and the exact moment Babe blurts out, “Gene —“

They both go silent, staring at each other. Babe inhales, holding the breath in his chest until he feels like he’s gonna burst with it.

A familiar voice in his head — the one that’s a dead-ringer for Bill Guarnere — groans, Will you please spit it the hell out already?

“So,” Babe says, “the letter.”

“Yeah,” says Gene. His gaze doesn’t leave Babe’s, sharp as a needle.

“Look, I wanted to —“

“I know,” says Gene.

“I wanted to say —“

“Babe,” Gene cuts in. “I know.”

Finally, Babe meets his gaze head-on. It’s never possible to read what’s going on in Gene’s head, but his face gives something away, sometimes. The way the corners of his lips twitch when he’s trying not to laugh; the line that appears between his eyebrows when he’s really worried; the way his eyes go soft when he knows someone needs comforting, and turn to hot coals when he’s furious.

Right now, Babe can’t pick a damn thing out of Gene’s expression… but his eyes are very, very soft. It feels like a punch to the stomach.

“You know,” he says slowly, “but…”

The words linger between them for a long, charged moment. Babe’s chest feels like it’s caught in a compactor, being slowly squeezed until his lungs burst and his ribs turn to dust. He huffs out a laugh — a dry, desperate thing. “Jesus, Gene, you look like you’re about to break my heart.” Gene still doesn’t say a word; Babe looks up at him, wide-eyed. “Why’s it you doctors just love to drag things out? Rip off the band-aid quick, and save us both the trouble.”

“Edward,” he says gently, laying a hand over Babe’s own. Babe jerks away like he’s been stung.

“Don’t Edward me right now!”

“Babe,” Gene says, and his voice is softer than ever. Babe’s throat is tight, eyes stinging… but damned if he’ll let himself cry over this, not where Gene can see. Christ, he’s an idiot. He’s so stupid, he should never have done anything, why did he even think —

“I have known... for a while, now. Didn’t need a letter to tell me some things.” Gene pauses, like he’s chewing over the words, before adding, “But it was good to read. Just to know.”

“Now you know,” Babe replies, and inhales a deep breath. “You happy now?”

Gene doesn’t answer. When Babe risks a glance over, Gene isn’t looking at him at all anymore; his eyes are on the sky, watching as the first pinpricks of starlight pierce through the indigo curtain. He looks thoughtful, almost mournful. It gouges something in Babe’s chest.

“Gene,” he says again. “Are you happy?”

“I don’t know.” When Gene inhales, it’s almost like a whisper. When he exhales, it’s like he’s singing to the night air. “Thought about it for a long time. Trying to figure out how I feel.”

“You’ve had a whole afternoon to do it. You get it all sorted out yet?”

“Longer than that,” Gene replies. His gaze flickers over to him. “I told you, Babe. I knew.”

Jesus. So he wasn’t as subtle as he thought. Babe exhales, praying to make the sick-to-his-stomach sensation go with it. Instead, it just churns even harder. If this goes on any longer, he’s gonna need a damn bucket.

Gene’s never been the best with words; expressing himself has never been easy, which is why Babe’s gotten so good at reading between the lines. Gene’s really trying now — for his sake, Babe supposes. “Reading that letter, seeing all those feelings laid out on paper… Babe, you didn’t have to sign it. I’d ‘a known it was you, just from what you said. It was like… listening to your heart. And a part of me already does that every day, so I guess it was easy.”

Can Gene hear his heart screaming now? Babe grips the windowsill until his knuckles turn white, grounding himself.

“I wasn’t sure how you felt before… and I wasn’t sure how I felt for you. Knew you felt something, but not what, and not how…” Gene swallows, pale throat bobbing. “But now I know.”

“Now you know.” Babe dwells on this statement for a moment before turning, hesitation heavy on his tongue. “So… what now, Gene?”

Gene takes a deep breath, clinging to the night sky for one last moment, before turning his gaze on him. “Do you— “ He pauses, licks his lips. “Do you really mean what you wrote? All of it?”

“Gene,” Babe replies, “I meant every word.”

Something calms in Gene’s eyes, like a storm settling. Babe isn’t expecting the way his gaze clears, or the flash of steely certainty that follows. “Well,” Gene says, “there’s only one thing to do.”

Another thing Babe isn’t expecting — how sweet Gene tastes when his lips are suddenly pressed to his own.

Somewhere far away, beyond the depths of his own consciousness — which is really just a victory parade and firework show, that’s all he’s capable of at the moment — he thinks Bill would be proud of him. Beyond the grave, Julian’s probably cheering for him, glad his buddy’s finally getting some.

For once, though, their voices are drowned out completely. It’s impossible to hear anything over the storm raging in his ears, which only swells to a fever pitch when Gene leans back and smiles at him.

“Well, Babe,” he says, as Babe cups his face like a reverent thing. “Think we can figure things out from here.”

“Jesus, Gene,” Babe declares, and swoops in to kiss him again.

#baberoe #hbo war #band of brothers #babe heffron #eugene roe #my writing #Anonymous

14 notes · View notes

ironfidus · 4 years

Text

Every Fifteen Minutes (1)

Summary:

“In honor of Peter Benjamin Parker,” the obituary reads. “2001 - 2017. Peter B. Parker, 16, died on the 5th of February, 2017, as a result of injuries sustained in a car crash involving a drunk driver…”

Tony can't finish reading. He swears his heart stops. “FRIDAY,” he croaks.

He doesn’t have to finish the order; FRIDAY, as if reading his mind, activates his Iron Man suit and sends it to envelop his body. Tony is shooting through the skies before he even fully realizes it.

OR: Peter Parker was in a car crash—except... he wasn’t. One forgetful Spider-Kid, one sleepy best friend, and one misleading post on social media all lead to a disastrous turn of events, culminating in the arrival of an unexpected guest at Midtown High.

Read here on AO3 (@a_matter_of_loyalty)

:::

Chapter 1: count the ways I let you down

Every fifteen minutes, someone dies from an alcohol-related collision.

:::

“The worst day of loving someone is the day that you lose them.”

—L.J. Smith

:::

“All right, class,” Roger Harrington calls out over the sound of murmuring students. He is standing impatiently at the front of the classroom, leaning back against his desk as he flips through a pile of pamphlets in his hands. “Settle down.”

The students either don’t hear him or are simply content with ignoring him, continuing to chatter amongst themselves.

Did Ms. Warren assign us any homework for tomorrow?

Oh my god, did you hear about Lucas and Brooke? Apparently they broke up—

Can you believe what she’s wearing—

“I said settle down!” Mr. Harrington barks, restraint snapping in half. His students descend into a hush immediately, scrambling to attention with more than a little annoyance. Truthfully, despite his show of impatience, Mr. Harrington can’t find it in himself to blame them: it is their last class of the day, their “advisory period” as it’s named on their schedule, and it is typically the one period in the week where they can simply sit back and relax with their friends. He himself is dismayed by the disruption to their regularly scheduled programming (read: their “chill time” as Jason calls it)—he’s tired of dealing with students 24/7, damnit, and he needs a break, so sue him—but Principal Morita personally approached him with instructions earlier in the day, and he can’t exactly disobey.

So like any good teacher, Mr. Harrington shoves down his exhaustion and schools his face into a mild smile. “A few weeks from now, we will be participating in an educational program known as Every Fifteen Minutes,” he announces. “It is designed to teach students the severe, life-changing consequences of drinking and driving.”

The students burst out into hushed whispers. No doubt they all remember this program from the previous year, though it will be their first time participating. Mr. Harrington sends them all a pointed look, and they dutifully quiet once more.

“Now, for today,” he continues once he has their undivided attention, “all of you will be using this period to choose one person in your class who you admire. I will be passing out blank sheets of paper shortly. As soon as you receive one, please write down the name of your chosen classmate, and a short paragraph detailing your reason for picking them.”

Betty Brant’s hand immediately shoots up. Mr. Harrington stifles a sigh, giving her a halfhearted nod that signals go on, and she promptly asks, “What does this exercise have to do with the program?”

Mr. Harrington’s smile grows strained. “You’ll find out why we’re doing this later on in the program,” he replies vaguely. Before anyone else can come up with any questions, Mr. Harrington says stiffly, “Let’s get started.”

He sets the pamphlets back down onto his desk—they’ll come in handy later—and picks up another pile of paper; this time, the blank sheets he promised earlier. He hands the pile to the student at the front of the class, and immediately retreats to his seat as his students begin passing out paper to each other.

His part done, Mr. Harrington happily returns to grading last week’s tests, blissfully tuning out his restless students as they go about their task.

Once everyone has a blank sheet of paper in front of them, the voices recede to a trickle once more as they all rack their brains for a name. Some students steal considering glances around the room, appraising their classmates in their minds.

Peter Parker, Midtown High’s awkward disaster by day and Queens’ beloved Spider-Man by night, doesn’t need to give it any thought. He plucks a pen from out of his pencil case and immediately begins writing about his best friend.

Ned’s been my best friend since I was seven years old. I’d just transferred to Midtown after losing my parents, and as soon as I met him, he took me by the hand and invited me to play on the monkey bars with him. I wasn’t very good at it, but he kept inviting me anyway. It was the first time I smiled since my parents’ funeral. Since then, Ned has given me a thousand more reasons to smile. That is why I admire him: no matter what, Ned never loses hope or happiness. He always looks on the bright side, and…

Beside him, Ned is putting pen to paper just as easily, his choice coming naturally to him as well. He wishes he could write about Spider-Man—write about how his best friend is a real-life hero, how his best friend unhesitatingly puts his life at risk every night to fight crime, how his best friend swung into his room last night with a bleeding wound but also a blinding smile because there was this woman, Ned, and she needed my help, I couldn’t just do nothing!

But he knows Peter keeps his identity a secret for a reason, so Ned locks that desire away firmly. It’s not as if he can’t think of tons to write about, anyway, even with Spider-Man out of the question. After all, even before he discovered his best friend’s alter ego, he’s always known Peter is special. Because even before Spider-Man, Peter was already the strongest, most resilient, most selfless person Ned knew.

(Peter Parker was a hero long before Spider-Man was born.)

Peter’s had a difficult life. Time after time, life kicks him down and refuses to let him up. He lost his parents at such a young age, and then his uncle a few years later. But no matter what life throws at him, Peter always, always gets up. He never stops trying; he never stops fighting. I admire him because of his unyielding tenacity and his refusal to give in to life’s cruelties. Despite the hardships he’s faced, Peter is still the kindest, happiest person I know. He’s always willing to lend others a hand in whatever way he can…

:::

“Time’s up!” Mr. Harrington announces seconds before the bell rings. The students let out a quiet cheer as they drop their pens and gather their bags, and Mr. Harrington allows himself a small smile of his own. Still, he doesn’t let them run off quite yet. “I hope you’ve all finished writing your paragraphs,” he warns before they can rush out.

Their mumbled agreements make him roll his eyes. “All right, all right, I won’t keep you any longer,” he relents. “On your way out, please pick up one of these Every Fifteen Minutes pamphlets”—he taps the pile of pamphlets with his pen—“and make sure to read those over sometime during the next couple of weeks. That’ll be all, class.”

:::

The students had it easy, Mr. Harrington muses to himself as he shuffles through the papers with their choices. He, along with the other teachers, are required to stay after school hours and assess each student’s note to determine which of the kids should be selected to participate in the program as a “casualty.”

Principal Morita advised them to choose a popular, well-liked kid to ensure that the effects of Every Fifteen Minutes are profound and widely-felt. If it’s a popular kid you want, Mr. Harrington thinks, the choice is obvious.

As if to confirm his thoughts, his eyes fall onto the note at the top of the pile and zero in on the name Flash Thompson.

Eugene “Flash” Thompson, arguably one of the most popular students in his class due to his parents’ wealth and his own sophisticated attitude, has created a “following” for himself within the halls of Midtown High. His cronies tend to stick to Flash like glue, following their ringleader around like thoughtless ducks. But as popular as Flash is, Mr. Harrington feels reluctant to pick him. He doubts Flash fits the criteria of “well-liked” amongst the majority of his peers, despite his popularity. Flash is a bully of the “high school jackass” variety, and his snobbish attitude repels just as many people as it attracts, if not more.

Mr. Harrington shakes his head and tucks the note with Flash’s name under all of the other papers. He resigns himself to a long afternoon of sorting through the notes, keeping an eye out for any recurring not-Flash names. The faster he finishes, the sooner he’ll be able to go home.

Betty, Cindy, Charles, Flash again, Abe, Seymour, another Flash, Ned… Mr. Harrington perks up slightly. The note dedicated to Ned Leeds is noticeably longer than all the rest before it, and Mr. Harrington recognizes the handwriting as belonging to Peter Parker immediately.

Teachers aren’t supposed to have a favorite. That is the unspoken rule. But there is also an unspoken footnote to that unspoken rule that goes like this: Teachers might not be supposed to have a favorite, but they do anyway. As long as the students don’t know, well, it can’t hurt anyone.

Peter Parker is without a doubt Mr. Harrington’s star student. Friendly and polite to everyone, Peter is a beacon of light in his class, one that everyone—even those who resent him, like Flash—can recognize. Even without Peter’s conscious effort, his generosity and thoughtfulness draw his classmates to him like moths to a flame.

Besides his obvious goodness, Peter is also achingly smart. Ridiculously so. He is intelligent and creative and brilliant—but he never brags about it.

And sure, Peter has changed over the last few months, turning up to class later and later and sometimes even falling asleep in the middle of his lectures, but his grades never slack. Mr. Harrington can’t deny he’s worried about the boy. He’s heard all the rumors about Peter: he’s heard the other teachers discussing Peter’s sudden decision to resign from nearly all of his extracurriculars; he’s heard Coach Wilson muttering something about bruises and scars; he’s heard students in the hallway giggling over Flash’s proclamations that Peter is a liar pretending to intern for Stark Industries.

For the most part, Mr. Harrington lets the rumors flow in one ear and out the other. He doesn’t like judging his students or making assumptions, after all. But even he can’t ignore some of the signs. He sent Peter to the guidance counselor a few weeks ago after Peter fell asleep during Academic Decathlon and woke up screaming after everyone else went home, but the rest is out of Harrington’s hands. He isn’t allowed to pry, he knows that.

That doesn’t stop him from fretting, though.

He sighs and redirects his gaze to Peter’s note. Out of curiosity—wondering what kind of traits someone as pure as Peter Parker would admire—Mr. Harrington pushes his reading glasses further up the bridge of his nose and reads the whole note.

…he never fails to make me laugh or smile. Ned is one of the best and brightest things in my life. I’m lucky to have him as my best friend.

Mr. Harrington exhales softly, the breath rushing out with an awed sort of wonder. Peter’s note about Ned is heartfelt and sentimental, nothing like the snatches of she's cute and she always wears the most fashionable outfits or I think he's really smart he caught glimpses of from the other notes.

Setting aside Peter’s note about Ned for now, Mr. Harrington flicks through the rest of the notes until he finds Ned’s note—unsurprisingly for Peter. He pulls it out of the stack, smoothing it out on top of the other notes.

…and even though he’s had it hard, Peter never takes it out on anyone else. He embodies compassion with everything he does. I know I am grateful for him, always.

Mr. Harrington will later swear, on his life, that he wasn’t affected by the notes. But here in the relative privacy of the empty classroom, as he bears witness to Peter and Ned’s mutual devotion to one another, his eyes begrudgingly start to burn.

These kids, he suppresses a groan, blinking rapidly. He is an adult, for god’s sake. He doesn’t get mushy over touching words anymore. They’re going to be the death of me.

It is undeniable, though, that the loss of either boy will leave a crippling impact on the other and the rest of the class. Even if no one else chose Ned or Peter, Mr. Harrington isn’t blind; he’s seen the two boys’ influence on their classmates. Sure, they can both be shy and quiet at times, reserved, but the two have become irrevocably entangled in the lives of their peers. Peter, for example, never fails to provide a spot of cheer during his classes with Mr. Harrington; more often than not, Peter would spend half the class maneuvering around the tables at his classmates’ behest, occasionally bending down to talk one of his peers through a difficult problem. Ned, too, is a bright presence in the classroom, never failing to coax his classmates into raucous laughter after one of his jokes.

One of the two will probably be the best bet for the program, Mr. Harrington decides. But which one? Peter or Ned?

Mr. Harrington groans, shooting the clock a backwards glance. 4 p.m., he acknowledges to himself. He’s already spent upwards of half an hour agonizing over this choice, and he just wants to go home.

Looking back at the stack, his eyes catch on to the note right below Ned’s. The name Flash Thompson peeks out, barely visible at the corner of the note.

Slowly, a smile settles on Mr. Harrington’s face.

Again, Mr. Harrington isn’t blind. He’s long since been aware of Flash’s tendency to pick on (read: bully) Peter. Unfortunately, when Mr. Harrington went to Principal Morita with his concerns, Morita simply dismissed him without a second thought, citing the Thompsons’ excessive donations to the school as an excuse to let it go. At the time, Mr. Harrington merely gritted his teeth and gracefully bowed out of the principal’s office, resigned to keeping his silence despite the regret sinking in his stomach.

But now…

Mr. Harrington is just a teacher. There is nothing he can do on his own, not against a pair of wealthy parents or the principal. But there is nothing to say he can’t indirectly teach Flash a lesson.

This, this he can do.

Perhaps if Flash is forced to imagine walking down their school hallways without a hint of Peter Parker anywhere for the rest of his school days, he’ll realize Peter’s value and the faults of his actions. Perhaps if Flash sees how short and finite life is, he’ll see his wrongs.

Mr Harrington can only hope so, anyway.

:::

‘Every Fifteen Minutes’

“The Every 15 Minutes Program offers real-life experiences without the real-life risks. This emotionally charged program, entitled Every 15 Minutes, is an event designed to dramatically instill into teenagers the potentially dangerous consequences of drinking alcohol and texting while driving. This powerful program will challenge students to think about drinking, texting while driving, personal safety, and the responsibility of making mature decisions when lives are involved…”

:::

Three weeks later, the program truly begins. The principal makes sure to issue a warning beforehand to prevent any genuine panic from breaking out (the teachers learned that the hard way last year). With the reassurance that it isn’t real, many students see the two-day period scheduled for the program as a chance to take a break from their classes and unwind.

They know what is going to happen. They know it will all be fake. No one is actually dying.

But sometimes, “knowing” doesn’t really equate to “understanding” or “believing,” and the subconscious tends to work in strange ways.

Despite the principal’s briefing, the students find themselves unprepared for the emotional upheaval that surges in them with each and every student’s "death". Every fifteen minutes, a participating deputy officer enters a different classroom and takes away one student. After the student’s removal, another police officer enters the classroom to read out a prepared obituary to the silence of the class. The obituary would be posted at the front of the classroom, and that would be that.

The chosen student wouldn’t return to classes for the rest of the day. Their notable absence from their usual routine is supposed to “simulate the feeling of loss that the other students would experience in the event of a real death,” or so the pamphlet claims.

And it works.

Some students cry, loud and blubbering, as their friends are pulled out of the room. Others are silent, disquieted, as they try to imagine what it would be like if their classmate were really dead, immediately feeling dread and tragedy seep into them.

They’re only kids. Most of them have never even felt the effects of death before.

(They’re lucky. So, so lucky.)

Finally, an hour before classes break for lunch, an officer enters Mr. Harrington’s classroom. “Peter Parker,” he calls out, eyes flicking briefly to the card he’s holding. “Mr. Parker?” he repeats in the ensuing silence.

“I’m here,” Peter replies, a little surprised as he stands up, inwardly fighting to ignore the stares of his classmates. He didn’t expect to be chosen. He likes to be invisible, to stay in the background and blend in, and this is the complete opposite of “blending in.”

“Mr. Parker,” the officer offers him a sympathetic smile. “Please gather your things. You won’t be returning today.”

The finality of the words you won’t be returning settles like a death knell in the classroom, and the hard edge is only barely softened by the comfort of today. Peter can already hear Betty, one of the most sensitive and empathetic of all his classmates, begin to sniffle.

Fighting the urge to glance back at Betty and reassure her, Peter nods politely at the officer. “Yes, sir,” he acknowledges with a respect that has been drilled into him by his aunt. He hurriedly shoves his pencil case and books into his bag and slings the backpack over one shoulder. He takes a moment to make sure his phone and his watch are both safe on his person –

Hold on. My watch. Peter’s eyes fixate on his wrist—his bare wrist—with growing horror. Where is it? Where did I leave it?

Mr. Stark will kill him if he’s somehow managed to lose his multimillion dollar StarkWatch. Make sure to keep it on you at all times, you hear me, Parker? Tony had threatened upon gifting it to Peter one rainy day. It cost me a fortune—I promise it’s more expensive than you. Just kidding. Not really, but that doesn’t matter. Just – wear it always, please? It’ll monitor your vitals for me, so I’ll be able to check that you’re alive and not, I don’t know, bleeding out in an alleyway or something. I have heart problems, you know.

Shoot, shoot, shoot, Peter thinks now. How the heck am I going to explain this one? He’d sworn to Mr. Stark that he’d never take the watch off except to—

Oh. Oh.

(“KAREN, remind me to put my watch back on tomorrow morning, yeah?” Peter says aloud to his AI, attaching his StarkWatch to the charging case it came with. It’s the first time he’s had to charge it so far—he doesn’t know how its battery has been able to last this long, but somehow he’s not entirely surprised, given that it is Tony Stark’s creation—and he’s more than a little concerned that his forgetfulness and Parker Luck are going to rear their ugly heads at the same time.

“Of course, Peter,” KAREN hums in reply.)

Peter calms down and resists the urge to facepalm. Of course he’d ended up forgetting it at home, even after making a genuine effort to remember to wear it. He briefly wonders how he could have missed KAREN’s notification before shrugging it off. He’ll just put it back on tonight, before going on patrol. Tony had designed the watch with Spider-Man’s trouble-magnet tendencies in mind, after all; he’s pretty sure Peter Parker can live without it for one day.

God, he must really be out of it if he managed to go half a day without realizing the heavy watch—not literally heavy, because it’s a StarkWatch and Mr. Stark is nothing if not efficient, but metaphorically heavy with the weight of Mr. Stark’s expectations—is missing from his wrist. Peter feels a yawn building in his chest and thinks, yep, still out of it. Between a long patrol spanning from late night yesterday to the early hours of the morning today, and back-to-back science and math classes with droning teachers who refused to let him nap, today has been hell.

Peter raises a hand to his mouth and stifles a yawn. Maybe I can rest my eyes for a bit now that I’m being taken out of class, he thinks hopefully. Worries about his missing StarkWatch abated and fighting drowsiness, he dutifully follows the officer out of the classroom without another word.

Mere moments later, a different officer enters the room, false obituary in hand. She stands behind Mr. Harrington’s desk as if it is a podium, and recites solemnly, “Peter B. Parker, 16, died on the 5th of February, 2017, as a result of injuries sustained in a car crash involving a drunk driver. He was born on the 10th of August, 2001 in Queens, New York City, to Mary and Richard Parker. Peter is survived by his aunt, May Parker, as well as his close friends Ned Leeds and Michelle Jones.”

Betty sniffles louder. His aunt, she keens in a hushed whisper to any who will listen. The only family he has left is his aunt. If he – if he were really dead, she’d be all alone—!

Her best friend, Cindy, reaches out between their desks and grips Betty’s hand tightly, like an anchor, a lifeline.

“At the time of his death, he was enrolled at Midtown High, where he touched many lives with his generosity and passion for life,” the officer continues, moving on to the next part of the obituary. Even as she reads, she keeps one eye on the students, her heart twinging briefly; she isn’t a mother herself—she doesn’t have kids to call her own—but she’s had to face the devastated parents of child victims before. She’s had to face child victims, period. It’s never a pretty sight. “A member of Midtown High’s Academic Decathlon, he displayed an unparalleled knack for solving problems and thinking outside the box. Peter truly lived life to the fullest through chasing simple pleasures: chatting with friends and family, eating takeout with his aunt, and reviewing any and all sci-fi themed movies. Peter had an uncanny ability to reach people in a deep and positive way; he was bright and energetic, and he was known for his tendency to help others.”

She pauses, her words sinking into the room savagely, raking through the students like a claw.

A few more students have started to shake at the sound of her words, and the image they paint—a dark-skinned boy in the corner, blinking rapidly at the mention of Peter’s tendency to help others; an Asian girl with pin-straight hair, biting her lip at the allusion to Peter’s brilliance; another boy, squeezing his eyes shut and looking away at the memory of Peter’s enthusiastic personality.

She shakes her head to clear the hesitation and adds, trying to maintain a facade of ruthless indifference: “He will be deeply missed by his family, friends, and all who knew him.”

And that final sentence, punching into the stillness of the room, makes it all so real.

The tension in the room crumbles, much like Betty Brant does in her seat, dissolving into breathless tears. Much like Abe Brown does, burying his face in his hands and refusing to look up. Much like Cindy Moon does, trembling minutely in her chair as she remembers Peter Parker, his smile twinkling brightly at her like the north star.

The officer trails off at last, and the room is left in silence as she gathers her composure and posts the obituary at the front of the room. The obituary has been professionally forged, made to appear real and foreboding—indeed, the dark borderings of the paper, the official lettering, and the sharp, crisp black ink all drive a nail into the proverbial coffin.

Listen, the obituary seems to whisper at them, vicious. Pay attention. You could lose him.

Without another word, the officer exits the room and flees the morose stares of the students. With the officer gone, all that is left is the obituary. There is no other sign that Peter Parker’s alleged death ever occurred, except on the faces of those he “left behind.”

And in the empty space where he would have been sitting, smiling, laughing.

(Already, they are feeling the effects of loss, their usually boisterous gossip never starting up. Normally, Mr. Harrington would be glad for the reprieve. But today, he looks at his students, sitting dazed and numb in the midst of Peter’s stark absence, and just sighs.)

(Amidst the haze of sorrow, amidst the uncertainty, Ned Leeds slumbers on in blissful ignorance, having missed the entire scene as well as the principal’s disclaimer. Ned doesn’t usually sleep during class, he swears; he always tries to pay attention out of respect for his teachers, if nothing else.

But today, he can’t muster the energy to feign awareness. He’s tired, the liveliness sucked out of his soul after an exhausting night spent hunched above his computer, splitting his attention between listening to the police radio chatter and prattling on about any reported incidents to his web-slinging best friend.

He loves being Peter’s guy in the chair. That fact is uncontested. And he wouldn’t give it up for anything in the world.

So Ned figures that if he has to miss a few hours of class to catch up on his much-needed sleep, then it’s worth it. What harm can it do, anyway? It’s not like he’s missing anything important.)

:::

It isn’t until the bell rings, calling for lunch time, that the students finally snap out of their stupor and Ned finally jerks awake. He yawns drowsily and blinks the sleep from his eyes, turning to Peter’s seat beside him. “Hey, Peter—”

Ned falls quiet, frowning in surprise when he doesn’t find Peter. Mumbling in confusion, he looks closer and realizes that Peter’s bags have disappeared, too. “What the—? Did he go to the cafeteria already?” he ponders aloud and tilts his head in confusion; he and Peter always get their lunch together. He can’t think of any reason why Peter wouldn’t have waited for him, especially since MJ is out sick today, leaving Peter with no one else to walk to the cafeteria with.

But where else would Peter be?

Finally, Ned just shrugs, figuring he can ferret out the why of it all later when he catches up to Peter in the lunch line. He gathers his bags in his hands and leaves the room, still puzzling over Peter’s disappearance. In his distraction, he completely misses the other students’ conversation about the very person he is seeking.

“Wow, I didn’t expect to get so emotional,” Cindy is saying to Betty. “It feels like Peter’s really gone.”

Betty nods rapidly. “I know! I mean, I guess that’s the point—to make us realize how serious this issue is. But it feels – weird, y’know? It’s not as if Peter speaks a lot normally—it isn’t any quieter now than it would be if he were still here—but he’s still an important, integral part of this class. I can’t imagine our class without him.”

“Pfft.” The derisive snort comes from Flash, who scrunches his nose at them as he overhears their murmurs. “We’re better off without that loser, anyway,” he says viciously, cuttingly.

“Wha— Flash!” Cindy scolds, straightening in her seat in anger. She was usually shy and timid, preferring to keep to herself, but her emotions run hot. Whenever she snaps, she does so with explosive force. “For once in your life, try not to be such an asshole,” she fumes. “You wouldn’t be saying that if he were really dead.”

Flash just harrumphs at that, turning up his nose with a sniff.

Cindy’s eyes glint with indignation. “Come on, Flash, stop—”

“Cindy,” Betty interjects with a pointed hum, resting a hand on her friend’s forearm. She shoots Cindy a significant look and herds the other girl to her feet. “Forget Flash. Let’s just go.”

“What?” Cindy blinks. “Betty, didn’t you hear what he said? How can you just—?”

“He isn’t worth it,” Betty shakes her head, the words cruel and dismissive, but the coldness of her gaze gentles when it sweeps past Flash again. She doesn’t say it now—doesn’t expose Flash—but she can’t forget what she saw earlier, as the officer was reading out Peter’s obituary: Flash, hunched in on himself in his corner seat, eyes downcast and red-rimmed. Flash is far more rattled by this program than he lets on, but if he wants to pretend to be a jerk to feel better about himself, Betty isn’t going to stop him.

They all have a lot to think about, after all, after today.

Cindy grumbles in annoyance, but begrudgingly follows Betty out of the room.

Flash waits until they’re both gone and he’s left alone in the sanctuary of the classroom before he lets the sneer fall from his face. Without his permission, his eyes automatically dart back to the obituary on the board.

Goddamn Parker, he thinks, stomping down his guilt. He’s never bothered to make things right with Peter, never bothered to apologize and reach out and try, but…

No. What am I thinking? Don’t be ridiculous, Flash. He’s not dead. He’s not.

When he looks back up, grappling with anger at Peter and anger at himself, he realizes he’s subconsciously made his way to the front of the room, stopping only when he’s directly in front of the obituary.

He gazes at it critically. Peter looks... happy in the picture chosen for the obituary. Then again, Flash thinks, Parker is rarely ever not happy. The only times he’s ever seen Peter without a smile are – shit – when Flash is teasing him. Flash doesn’t even know why he does it, really.

Well, no, that isn’t true. He does know.

Somehow, some way, despite the background he comes from, Peter seems to have everything he wants. (Everything Flash wants.)

Peter doesn’t come from money, Flash knows this—he knows this in the way Peter’s shoes never change even as they begin to fall apart, held together only by duct tape; he knows it in the way Peter goes through the same rotation of science pun t-shirts every once in a while; he knows it in the way Peter’s jeans still have the same stains from months ago, from when Flash shoved his lunch into his lap; he knows it in the way Ned always offers Peter half of his lunch everyday.

Flash knows Peter’s aunt struggles to make ends meet.

And yet Peter is still so irritatingly cheerful, day after day. He has friends, too—real friends the likes of which Flash wouldn’t be able to recognize. Ned and MJ don’t stick by Peter because of his riches or his reputation, not like Flash’s friends do.

And most of all, Peter is frustratingly intelligent. He has the Decathlon position Flash yearns for, he has the teachers’ favor (Flash sees the way Ms. Warren and Mr. Harrington smile whenever Peter raises his hand and blurts out the correct answer with record speed, even if Peter had noticeably barely been paying attention beforehand), he has the effortless straight-As.

He even has an aunt who loves him. On nights where Flash’s jealousy gets really, really ugly, Flash can’t help but think that Peter has more family than he does, despite his losses. Peter may have lost his parents and his uncle, but his aunt genuinely adores him, in ways Flash’s parents never have. The disparity has become obvious over the years: every time they have a Decathlon competition, Peter always has someone to cheer him on—a familiar vision of long brown hair and Go Peter Parker! banners and excited squeals—even though Flash has no doubt that May Parker is endlessly busy paying off the bills.

Flash’s parents are nowhere near as busy, and yet they have never once shown up to one of his competitions. And sure, he’s just an alternate, but he’s still part of the team. He wishes his parents could appreciate that.

So. Flash is jealous. He hates it, but – he doesn’t understand Peter. He doesn’t get what Peter has that he doesn’t; what makes Peter better than him.

He can’t accept it.

(So he lashes out. He lashes out and lashes out and lashes out, using Peter’s shame and pain as a balm for his own wounds.

It doesn’t help, not really. But it makes him feel powerful. It gives him control, the sort of control he’s never had in his own home where his mother is always flitting in and out like a flighty butterfly attracted to shinier things and his father is always filling the silence with drunken shouts, and Flash can’t bring himself to stop.)

Malice and self-loathing burning within him in equal measure, the opposing sides of the same coin mingling until the lines are blurred and the two are indistinguishable, Flash pushes his guilt into a vault and locks it in, firmly. There’s no way I feel bad for Penis Parker, he tells himself sharply. He deserves it. Someone has to show him his place, after all. Besides, I have nothing to be sorry for. He’s not even dead.

And so Flash does what he does best: he lashes out again.

Without a word, he digs his phone out of his pocket and snaps a quick picture of the obituary, Peter’s name emblazoned prominently under his picture. He logs into his Twitter account and attaches the picture to a new post, thumbs flying rapidly across the keyboard as he types out a pithy caption with harsh, angry jabs. By the time the photo has been uploaded (accompanied by the acerbic words as if anyone would even miss parker, lol), his fingers are squeezing the phone so tightly it feels like it will leave a permanent dent in his skin.

(There’s no way Flash could have known the domino effect his actions would spark. He has no idea the disaster he’s courting by posting that obituary—and without any sort of disclaimer, no less. He doesn’t even spare a moment of thought for the possible ramifications of his post.

Truthfully, Flash isn’t thinking at all when he acts, the only thing driving him his contempt.)

:::

Tony Stark is in a board meeting when it happens. He’s barely paying attention as it is, leaning back slightly and scrolling through his phone beneath the table with the ease of someone who’s done so a thousand times before. He can sense Pepper glaring at him out of the corner of his eye, but no one else seems to notice his distracted state, so he ignores her palpable annoyance. He can just get FRIDAY to replay the highlights of the meeting for him later, anyway.

“Boss,” FRIDAY interrupts with a smooth whirr, startling the board members. “Protocol: On the Web has been triggered.”

Tony jerks upright as if yanked by a leash, nearly losing his grip on his phone in his shock. Protocol: On the Web was designed to screen the internet for any mention of Peter Parker’s name, or any emergence of his face. “Shit,” he curses under his breath, sliding his phone into his pocket and swiping his hand across the air to signal FRIDAY to open whatever had flagged her systems.

The board members are murmuring amongst themselves by now, and Pepper’s glare has darkened, but Tony doesn’t even notice, his heart thundering in his chest. If Peter’s secret identity has been endangered—

Tony blinks.

It’s a Twitter post.

With more than a little confusion and wariness, his eyes take in the caption first: as if anyone would even miss parker, lol.

Tony’s gut churns at the callousness of the words, an intangible and unfathomable dread sinking its claws into his soul. He can’t quite understand why those words make his heart stutter in his chest, until—

Until he can.

There’s a picture of the kid above the heartless caption. Of his kid. Peter’s smiling up at him, curls as messy and unkempt as ever, freckles dusting his cheeks in a way that makes Tony want to squeeze. And his eyes—god, his eyes—are as wide and innocent as they always are, gleaming with the cheer of youth even from the other side of a screen.

And beneath the picture:

In honor of Peter Benjamin Parker.

2001 - 2017.

And Tony’s heart stops. His world starts to fall apart at the seams.

He can’t think. Can’t breathe. He collapses into his seat like the air’s been punched out of him, like he’s a marionette and his strings have been cut.

No. No no no—

Oh, god. Not him. He can’t be gone.

Please don’t take him away from me—

Blood roars in his ears, deafening him to all else as he stares blankly—uncomprehendingly—at the picture. Beyond the ringing in his ears, Tony can hear a broken, strangled wail—

It takes him a belated moment to realize the wail came from him.

“Tony—” Pepper’s voice is muddled in his ears.

Tony’s standing before he even realizes what he’s doing. He pushes his chair back, staggering away from the table of board members staring at him in confusion, as if Tony’s gone mad when Tony’s pretty sure they’re the ones who are insane, to act as if the world is still spinning, as if anything else matters. “I have to – I have to go—” he chokes out, fumbling with his wristwatch until the Iron Man suit starts assembling around his body in a familiar process that does nothing to ground him. “Pep—”

He turns to her in a panic, but he doesn’t have to worry: she’s already nodding in understanding and agreement as she leans in to see FRIDAY’s alert, her face pale and ashen, one hand clapped over her mouth as if to stifle a cry.

(Pepper has always loved Peter.)

“Go,” is all she says, but he’s never heard her voice like that before: like her reality is collapsing all around her and she’s helpless to keep it together.

(Maybe he’s the one who’s helpless.)

A few board members startle, exclaiming in protest.

Tony turns, ready to yell at them until they understand that his world’s just stopped, can’t they see, but Pepper is already on it. “Family emergency,” she says, hoarse.

And any other time, Tony would have flushed and immediately tried to deny the implications of him and Peter being “family” with a stammer, all the while feeling warm that Pepper recognized them as so.

(Why did he always deny it? Why did he never just tell Peter how he felt?

Now, he’s lost the chance to. Peter will never know how much he loved him, how much he still loves him, because nothing can take this from Tony—

Peter will never realize.)

But this isn’t any other time, because Peter is—

Tony grits his teeth. He can’t finish the thought.

Instead, he angles himself towards the window and shoots off the ground, crashing through glass and soaring through the air with one destination in mind: “FRI,” he says, voice wrecked and unrecognizable even to his own ears, “plot a course to Midtown High.”

(Because god, it’s midday on an ordinary, unremarkable Thursday and Peter is supposed to be in school. He’s supposed to be safe.)

:::

The first thing he does is order—implore—FRIDAY to call Peter, the command hoarse and shaky in his voice. Terrified.

The phone rings once—

“Please,” Tony mouths, the plea loud and deafening in the cavern of his mind. It’s all he can hear, but no sound leaves him. He’s breathless, the air stolen from his lungs, and he doesn’t know how to return himself to solid ground. “Please. Please please please pick up.”

He’s never felt like this before, like the fate of his entire world hinges on one thing, one person, one phone call—

—Twice—

Tony squeezes his eyes shut, almost like he’s too afraid to face reality, to watch the moment of its inevitable collapse. To watch the foundations of his universe crumble to ashes, just like—

No. He can’t be.

—It rings a third time—

A few days ago—mere days—Peter had sent Tony a flurry of memes, all punctuated by at least half a dozen exclamation marks and emojified laughter. Tony had indulgently gone through each meme, snorted a couple times, and then restrained himself to sending back one eye-roll and a disapproving don’t use your phone in class, kid.

Peter had sent back an eye-roll of his own.

At the time, Tony could never have imagined this—could never have imagined losing Peter. If he could have envisioned this, could have foreseen the unadulterated terror gripping his heart, he would never have told Peter to stop texting in class. He would have maybe sent a laughing emoji of his own and encouraged his rebellious use of his phone during school hours.

Maybe then, Peter would pick up now. Wouldn’t leave Tony hanging in the worst moment of his life.

But he can’t take back the text he’d sent, the reproving don’t use your phone, and now Tony’s helpless to do anything but hope against hope that—

—Ring—

Tony swallows. Don’t ignore me, he wants to yell, even though the call hasn’t connected and Peter can’t hear him. You’re not supposed to ignore me. You have to pick up—I need you to pick up—

I need you, period—

Please.

—his pleas go unheard, and the phone rings again—

The phone clicks.

“Hey!”

Tony’s heart lurches to his throat, hope soaring—

“It’s Peter here!” A familiar, shy giggle erupts on the other end of the line—the same giggle that typically sends a burst of warmth blooming across Tony’s chest. “Sorry I missed your call.”

Tony inhales sharply, finally recognizing Peter’s familiar voicemail greeting for what it is. Peter’s voice giggles again, but this time, it brings him no joy, no contented bliss; this time, it sends his heart crashing to the ground, hope withering like unprotected primroses in the blistering desert heat.

“Please leave a message at the beep. Or, you know, just send me a text like normal people. Unless this is Mr. Stark, in which case feel free to keep calling and prove your senior status.”

Normally, Peter’s voicemail message brings an amused smile to his lips, exasperation and fondness swelling within his chest in equal measure. Peter, he’d chide, how many times do I have to tell you to change your voicemail? I’m not ancient. I’m efficient.

Today, Peter’s teasing voice makes him choke on air, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. Instead of affection, it is dread that pools inside him; he takes several deep breaths, trying hard to contain the fear, but as the phone beeps tauntingly, a vision of Peter flashes across his mind. He can almost imagine the wide, shit-eating grin that took over Peter’s face when he first recorded the voicemail greeting, lounging lazily on a hammock of webs hanging from his ceiling.

His tentative self-control shatters under the weight of that image, and his dread surges and spills over the edges, breaking through the dam that is his restraint.

“Peter,” he croaks, teetering on the edge of a cliff. Salvation on one side, damnation on the other. “Peter, where – where are you? You have to… you have to call me back when you get this. Please. I—please.”

The phone beeps again, mute in his ears, and Tony is empty. He has nothing left to give, nothing but fear and uncertainty and desperation and—

A dying hope. Please.

Silence. There’s no one to answer his calls, to reassure him and comfort him.

Tony falls and falls and falls. He watched the sharp, jagged rocks rush up to meet him, lets the tempestuous waves swallow him whole. There is no salvation here.

:::

It isn’t until he is only a few minutes away from Midtown High that Tony finally musters the courage to order FRIDAY to reopen the post. He doesn’t want to see it—he doesn't want to face it, Peter’s death—but he needs to know.

“Boss, are you sure?” FRIDAY asks, hesitant. Sometimes, Tony can’t help but think that she knows him better than he knows himself.

This time, he blunders on, ignoring her unspoken note of caution. “Do it, FRI,” he snaps, breathless, steeling himself for the worst.

After a beat, the picture pops up in his visor.

Tony bites his lip and lets his eyes drink in the words:

“Peter B. Parker, 16, died on the 5th of February, 2017, as a result of injuries sustained in a car crash involving a drunk driver…”

Tony’s heart stops all over again. He can’t see beyond those words—see beyond 16 and died and car crash and drunk driver.

“No,” he says, and it comes out as a broken moan. “No.”

(Tony prepared for the worst, but this—

Nothing could have prepared him for this.)

Please, no.

A drunk driver. Drunk.

Ever the masochist, Tony can’t help but flash back to years into the past, his past, filled with an endless stream of alcohol and an equally endless line of reckless actions. Tony had been stupid as a teenager. Young and wild and dumb.

What if he never stopped? What if he never put down the bottle?

What if it was him who killed Peter?

He’d never forgive himself.

(He already can’t forgive himself.)

Tony sucks in a harsh breath that scrapes against the inner walls of his throat like the serrated edge of a knife. A long, long time ago, the men in his life liked to say: Stark men are made of iron.

Well, if Tony were made of iron, then he is bending and twisting, caving in on himself, turning brittle and cracking and shattering beneath the vicious, unforgiving hammer that is the words drunk driver staring mercilessly back at him.

Tony closes his eyes and wills the obituary away with a whispered command; he’s seen enough. FRIDAY wordlessly obeys, for once quiet and unresponsive in the suit, lacking her usual sarcastic gibes. If he doesn’t know any better, he’d say she’s in mourning.

Tony mourns. He mourns Peter Parker, not Spider-Man, in the wake of the words car crash and drunk driver stampeding through his mind like a broken record. He mourns Peter’s awkward rambles and giggling laughter, Peter’s childish innocence and overeager attitude, Peter’s earnest eyes and beaming grins, so blinding in their brilliance that not even the sun can hold a candle to them—or to Peter’s radiance.

He wishes he could see Peter smile one more time. He’s always loved Peter’s smiles.

But he can’t. Now, stranded here in a world that has let him down in the worst possible way, all he’s left with are memories, memories that have been tainted by an unfeeling report and car crash… drunk driver. An accident.

An accident.

God, it was an accident. Just an accident. How strange—laughable even, in a sick, twisted way—that being Spider-Man hadn’t killed the kid (his kid, Tony thinks of him as his), but that a car had.

How strange, Tony thinks, that after years and years of torment and heartbreak, after wilting under his father’s cruel (loveless) gaze and Stane’s betrayal (a betrayal years in the making) and Steve’s deception (his eyes void of recognition and warmth, his lips downturned, his voice silent as he turns away from Tony Stark for the last time and walks out of his life), it is this that breaks the great Tony Stark.

Except it isn’t strange at all. It isn’t strange when Tony lets himself dwell on Peter and the exact curve of his smile—shy and sweet and true—the sound of his high-pitched laughter (you sound constipated, Tony mocks, like a beached whale, and Peter shoves him away with yet another constipated laugh), the way he’d tuck himself into the loop of Tony’s arm when he’s feeling anxious, his eager demeanor and unashamed declarations of you’ve always been my hero, Mr. Stark. On the exact shade of Peter’s eyes—a warm hazelnut brown, like a mug of hot chocolate by the fireplace amidst the winter storm—on the shape of his birthmark, on the nervous stammer that often befalls him.

On his kindness and his thoughtfulness and the way he lives and loves and laughs without fear. On the light that shines so effortlessly from within him, threatening to blind Tony with its virtuous incandescence.

If he weren’t Iron Man, if FRIDAY weren’t keeping him safe and engulfed within his nitinol confines, Tony doesn’t think he’d be able to keep himself upright.

(If FRIDAY didn’t auto-lock the suit whenever he’s in it, Tony would gladly let himself fall.)

(Funny how Tony planned for nearly every eventuality.

Keyword: nearly.

He built Peter’s suit to be strong enough to withstand anything. He built the suit to protect the kid—just a kid—from Captain America himself, from alien weapons, from hundred-feet falls, from even the relentless cold.

He’s never once imagined he’d have to protect Peter from a drunk driver. And, well—

And if you died, I feel like that’s on me.)

:::

(In the end, it takes less than half an hour to fly to Midtown High in the Iron Man suit.

It’s twenty minutes of flight.

It’s an eternity of torture.)

:::

Tony Stark has always known three things for certain:

One: Howard Stark is an asshole.

Two: He will never be able to repent for all the deaths his weapons have caused. No matter how hard he tries, no matter how many more people he saves, it will never be enough to erase his sins or wash the blood from his hands.

And three: If Peter Parker were to die, a part of Tony would die with him.

:::

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

#marvel #mcu #iron dad #irondad and spiderson #spiderman #iron man #peter parker #tony stark #marvel fanfiction #iron dad fanfiction #ned leeds #flash thompson #irondad angst #trope: presumed dead #faye writes

13 notes · View notes

takeiteasypeasybaby · 4 years

Text

Save Me: Chapter 28 - Look Death in the Face

~Hey guys! Chapter 28 is out now!! Negan finally gets what has been coming to him for a while...Will Molly be able to deal with his fate? I hope everyone is having a good week :) Love you all <3~

This was it. For both leaders, it was finally time to look death in the face and accept it. For most, this was the physical death of their enemy, whereas for Molly, this meant the emotional death of her loved one in her heart and her former self.

Rick and I led them across the field and towards the Sanctuary which we could now see in the distance.

Everyone was focussed and determined, no fear now just pure hatred, except me.

As we all moved stealthily as one we were halted by a loud blood curdling whistle.

It was them.

The noise surrounded us as it felt like it came from all directions.

I looked at Rick and Maggie who were turning around frantically trying to find out where the noise came from.

My heart felt like it was pounding in my mouth as my breathing became more rapid.

I squinted to try and see any Saviours over the hill, there were none yet that haunting sound ensued.

All of a sudden a voice on a megaphone tauntingly shouted 'well shit Rick! Would you look at that? I just ambushed your ambush with an even bigger ambush!'.

Shit it was Negan. He sounded vengeful, almost dark.

I pictured his eyes which wouldn't be that light shade of amber anymore.

He wanted us all dead, I knew that now.

Rick was getting pissed off now.

'How about you step out and face us?' he shouted.

We heard a loud chuckle then Negan said 'Oh Rick I am everywhere! Pick a direction to run, see how you do. Make it fun for all of us!'.

We couldn't escape even if we wanted to, Rick would never let this go.

'Guess what else I did...I brought some of your old friends' he said confidently.

If my ears could prick up, they would have now.

I knew he meant Eugene but the only other would have been Gabriel, but we all thought he had escaped.

'You remember your old buddy Eugene? Well, he is the one that made today possible. Same goes for Dwighty-boy here' Negan shouted.

I looked at Rosita who was scowling now at Eugene's betrayal.

I just hoped he would do the right thing, everything was riding on that.

He knew about Dwight's helping us.

Even though I never forgave him for Denise, neither would Tara, I still couldn't let him die.

I readied my gun when Negan said 'In case you were wondering, he didn't ream you on purpose. No, he's just a gutless fucker that sucks at life and now he gets to stand up here and watch you all die, he has to live with that'.

At this the Saviours stepped forward and formed a line in front of us so that they just peaked over the hill.

'Gabriel, well he's gotta go too. We are cleaning house today Rick' Negan added.

I looked through my binoculars to see Negan holding a gun up to Gabriel's head and Dwight standing beside them, wearing a prisoner uniform.

I scanned for Simon frantically, wanting to take a shot at him first, but he wasn't there.

At all.

Negan was there to show his full force and would've brought his right hand man, unless he was dead.

I smirked vengefully just thinking about it.

'And then there's you. It never had to be a fight, you just had to accept how things were. So here we go, congratulations Rick! This is all on you, you can blame yourself for Molly now as well' Negan said almost with a twinge of sadness in his voice.

Why would Rick blame himself for me?

I shot him a confused look, until the realisation hit me.

He had told him I was dead. What if Negan's anger towards 'mourning' me was gonna get us all killed.

Rick just looked at Negan, avoiding my gaze.

'Goddamn it Rick!' I whispered to him, even Michonne shot him a look of disappointment.

'Three, two, one...' Negan counted down until we heard a loud bang and Saviours dropping like flies.

He had done it! I smirked as I looked at Eugene.

'Now!' Rick shouted as we ran towards them.

Negan's gun had backfired and a casing had torn through his right hand.

'Eugene!' he yelled in pain.

Gabriel punched him in the face as Dwight tried to wrestle him against the bonnet of his car.

Negan managed to push him off with Lucille and ran towards the woods.

'He's running!' Maggie shouted as Rick went after him.

'Keep going! To the rendezvous point, the others should already be there' I shouted to everyone else as we gained on the Saviours who were falling to their knees.

'Don't shoot! Please. We're done. It's over' Laura said as they all put their hands up and surrendered their weapons.

I nodded to her, she had been kind to me at the Sanctuary and after all Rick only wanted Negan dead.

Once they had surrendered, I ran after Rick.

My heart pounding out of my chest and my breathing becoming more irregular when I saw Rick and Negan by a tree with stained glass hanging off its branches.

Negan's POV//

Rick came rushing around the tree as I knocked him to the ground with Lucille.

'Just so you know, the eeny meeny miny moe, that was bullshit. I made a choice, I just didn't wanna kill kid's dad right in front of him. Turns out, that would've been the best thing I could've done. Had I done it, that kid might've still been alive' I taunted.

At this Rick kicked my legs, knocking me off my feet as I fell on my back.

'You're beat. Your people are down' Rick said breathlessly.

I groaned as I stood up slowly, saying 'I'll get out of it, I always do'.

'It's just you and me Rick. You, you are torn open. I am bigger, I am badder and I got a bat' I said smirking at him lying there on the grass.

Like hell I was gonna die.

'We can have...a future' Rick said, his voice straining on every word as he winced in pain.

I smiled, saying 'I know I will'.

He tried to stand up and pleaded, 'just give me ten seconds. I can tell you how'.

I scowled at him, thinking about Molly and how she might be dead because of both of us.

'No' I answered.

'Please just give me ten seconds for Carl' he begged, now standing.

I paused and nodded.

Now I started counting, 'ten...nine'.

'Carl said, it doesn't have to be...be a fight anymore' he said struggling to speak.

I held Lucille up and scowled saying 'he was wrong, eight...'.

Rick panted and said 'no, no he was right'.

My scowl hardened at his pleading for his life until I saw her.

Molly was standing there, behind Rick.

Tears fell down my face as I looked at her.

'M-Mol...' was all I managed as suddenly Rick ninja sliced open my jugular with a piece of glass he found on the grass.

I dropped to my knees, my gaze still firmly on hers.

I knew I would die and I wanted her to be the last thing I saw.

She gasped and covered her mouth as she lunged forward, Michonne stopping her from reaching me.

The others stood beside her, including the widow.

Rick waited for a minute and walked towards them, blood gushing from my neck as I tried to stop it with my hand.

'Save him' Rick said to some doctor.

Those words rang in my ears as I saw Molly's look of relief and the widow screaming 'No!'.

I wasn't relieved when I heard Rick's words.

I wanted to die, after what I did and who I hurt the most, I couldn't face her.

'No! He can't...he killed Glenn!' the widow shouted as Michonne held her back.

I was fading in and out of consciousness when I felt someone stitch up my neck and cover it with a bandage.

'We have to!' Rick shouted to her as she yelled 'we have to end it! Rick! We have to make it right. It's not over till he's dead!'.

When I stopped bleeding I saw Molly looking down now.

She was happy I was alive, but I knew that changed nothing between us.

I really felt like dying now.

'There's gotta be something after' Rick said to the widow as he now addressed my men.

They still had their hands up, they had surrendered.

'Everyone put your hands down, you're all gonna go home now' Rick shouted as they put their hands down slowly.

'Negan's alive. But his way of doing things is over! Anyone who can't live with that will pay the price, I promise you that. Any person here who would live in peace and fairness, who would find common ground, this world is yours by right' he shouted.

'We are life, that's death! It's coming for us, unless we stand together' he shouted pointing at the distant hoard of walkers.

'Go home, then the work begins. The new world begins. All this, all this is just what was. There's gotta be something after!' Rick yelled as some guys lifted me onto a stretcher and put me in the back of a van.

The fuckers were gonna take me to Alexandria, I knew it.

Molly's POV//

It was a curious feeling, the man I loved was alive and yet dead at the same time.

Tears flowed down my face as I watched them take him away.

I never wanted him dead, but seeing how much his presence affected my family made me feel even worse.

Michonne and I held Maggie as she curled up on the grass and sobbed for Glenn's memory.

I understood Rick and I agreed with him, but seeing Maggie like that broke my heart into a million tiny pieces.

Rosita stood next to us with Eugene who had now returned to us.

'What happened to the guns? That you?' she asked him.

Eugene turned to me as I stroked Maggie's hair and nodded.

'Us. We introduced the sabotage aspect to the manufacturing process unbeknownst to my colleagues which was inspired by Molly's purposeful determination and resilience. Plus a few things you imparted on me before I left. Ergo I created a modicum of phooey for kablooie' he said seriously.

Rosita smiled and turned to me and nodded a 'thank you'.

I smiled back, there was a change in the air after that.

I practically felt people warm to me again.

As I looked around, I saw Gabriel and Eugene but not Dwight.

A rush of panic washed over me as I couldn't see him.

The Saviours were now leaving but I saw Laura and I ran over to her to ask her what happened to him.

She smiled weakly and said that he had left but left a note in one of the cars.

I nodded a thank you and ran back to where the Saviour's cars were.

I checked each one before seeing a small folded piece of white paper stuck to the windscreen of presumably Negan's car.

I looked around me to check no one was there and opened it slowly, it read:

Molly,

I always knew you'd make it, thats just the type of person you are.

A while after you escaped, I helped Sherry get away too. I'm not sure where she is but I promise to always keep looking for her. I'm not coming back.

I don't know whether Negan will be dead by the time you read this, but if he isn't, be careful.

Dwight.

I folded it back up and sighed, the guy had practically predicted it.

Negan was like a cat with nine lives.

Just as I was about to walk back, I saw Negan's red scarf on the front seat in the car.

I hesitated but then grabbed a rock and smashed the window so I could grab it.

I held it between my fingers and pressed it against my cheek.

His smell was all over it and it reminded me of our time together.

I didn't know whether I would ever give it back to him, but I couldn't leave it there.

I stuffed it into my jacket pocket, along with Dwight's letter and set off after my family.

#negan #negan fanfiction #twd #the walking dead #twdromance #smut #romance #rickgrimes #maggie #mollychambler #negan x original female character #dwight twd #daryl dixon

12 notes · View notes

underatedcharactersunite · 4 years

Text

Beauty and The Scientist; The Saviours

{{Previous}} [[Next]]

Chapter Summary; Eugene has a question pondering on his mind, but he’s terrified to ask you. The Courage is there, the perfect setting is finally set but the moment is forced to a halt the second Negan and the Saviour show us days early for their first pick up. With Negan and the Saviours around nothing is ever good... Paring; Eugene Porter X Female Reader. WordCount; 1,999 Warnings; Dwight being forceful, Angst, fluff A/N; You don’t need to have to read the previous chapter to understand what’s going on but if you could it would be brilliant. Tagging; @eugenessix

Arriving back home, everyone should have been in high spirits. Everyone should have been gathering around welcoming people home as you successfully got Maggie to Hilltop. However, the scene you imagined from your head was far from that, instead, everyone was consumed with grief and sombreness. Suddenly, the high morals of Alexandria had been blown to smithereens. Two incredible people had been lost by the hands of the Saviours. It felt everywhere.

The Saviours had made their presence known to Alexandria in the same manner as they had with Hilltop. They point had been made they wanted to control everything. Negan wanted to be the King of the new world.

Except they had never encountered a group like Alexandria, we had faced many battles already, and the Saviours would one day be just another story. It was natural that everyone in Alexandria was currently petrified by the new threat, and what it would eventually bring. Another fight. More death and destruction coming their way. The Saviours might have already killed Abraham and Glenn, but they couldn't stop Alexandria from regrouping.

With Negan's pending collection, everyone gathered around putting supplies in place. Every time anyone went out, people were going the extra mile to bring back more than we needed to survive. Terrified they might lose someone else.

You and Eugene had been in sort of trance. The two of you had spent considerable time apart with Rick needing you on different things, but when the two of you came together, it was like the vacuum.

As the early hours of the morning came, the sun played peek a boo behind the walls of Alexandria. You sat on your porch enjoying the quietness, that seemed to surround the place. There were no secret discussions about Rick's role of leadership, no looks of fear plastered on the faces of adults and children alike. It was peaceful, it felt like it was as if the world wasn't ready to mess with Alexandria just yet.

"You know it's an ungodly hour to be up and outside in such cold temperatures." Eugene's voice broke your concentration from the scene that currently surrounded you.

"Sorry I didn't mean to wake you. It's just so peaceful. Like nothings wrong and the Saviours won't be here in a few days, taking whatever they please." Eugene wrapped his arms around your waist, nustling his head into the curve of your neck.

"Everything's going to be A-Okay, as long as we comply with Negan's needs. I've started repairing a radio so they can at least listen to some tunes while they do whatever Saviours do." Laughing, maybe some of the Saviours found comfort in music like you used to. Perhaps there was a part of them that held human emotions.

"Perhaps Negan will appreciate some tunes it might put him in a better mood." Eugene seemed to appreciate the idea as you felt the rumbling of his chest against your back. Eugene would never admit how scared he was of the thought of losing you. So he decided he was going to hold onto you for as long as he could. When he remembered he could have forever as the perfect symbolism was sitting in his bedside table.

"Come on, let's get back inside and I'll make you a cup of coffee while we still have it." Eugene twisted you around before going back into the house that the two of you shared. Flipping the switch of the coffee machine, you observed Eugene's hunch over. This wasn't how he wanted to propose but with the Saviours looming over everyone's head.

"What's wrong, my love?" You questioned as you walked up behind him, this time you were the one to wrap your arms around him. Eugene adored whenever you came up behind him, to comfort him. The relationship was purely equal, and the two of you balanced each other out, and he liked that. Eugene knew that you wouldn't care about a fancy proposal. However, he wanted to make an effort. He knew that at times he wasn't exactly great at showing emotion especially, of the romantic kind, but he wanted to give you this. Yet the Saviours were forcing his hand it was now or never.

"Would you make the coffee? I'll be right back." Eugene sped off, leaving you speechless, was something wrong? Trying to ignore your mind beginning to overthink, you pulled two mugs from the cupboard and prepared to make the coffee.

Moments later, Eugene came back downstairs, running over to you passionately melding his lips with yours. Unexpecting the kiss, your eyes widened in shock but quickly melted at his touch reciprocating the kiss with matching eagerness.

Eugene began to question why he didn't kiss you like this more often. The sensation running through his body was pleasurable, and he could tell you were enjoying it too as you run your hand through his Tennesse top hat. Never had he found a woman who found it as intriguing as you had.

Eugene never meant to get caught up in the moment, but you were the only person in his life who ever treated him in such a way. As his hand went under your shirt, you suddenly stopped.

"I never meant to-" You pressed your hand to his lips softly, with you closed your eyes. Eugene had seen that look on several times you used it whenever you had thought you heard something.

"Sorry I thought I heard something." Leaning in for another kiss, this time Eugene stopped you.

"We can finish this afterwards, but before I get distracted by your beautiful body and your delightful touch. There's something I need to say first."

"Is there something wrong?"

"Far from that, we've been together for a while now, and I wanted this to be romantic, but with everything going on. I don't know if we're going to get a moment where the two of us are not running around like headless chickens. Which is a technical-scientific impossibility? This is the biggest thing I have ever thought about doing in my life-"

"They're here." Rosita came bursting in through your front door, your eyes widened. They were early. Too early. The two of you were forced to pull away from each other, as you grabbed your coffee cup and headed outside. This was probably going to be the last one you had for a long time.

You took two steps outside of the house to see them already going through houses, procuring furniture and food. They were savages. Unrespectiable savages, who thought they could take whatever they pleased. Someone barged past you and Eugene as you entered your home.

When the world ended, for a long time you didn't have a lot. You starved and struggled to survive. Until you got to Alexandria and they gave you a place to call yours, a base you called home. Now it was being ransacked.

"Go on and find Rick. You don't need to see this." Eugene pressed a kiss to your temple as you walked away. You were well aware that wherever Rick was, Negan would be. You would gladly punch him in the face, a hundred times over until he resembled Abraham or Glenn's bashed-in skull.

Meeting Rick and Negan, you knew immediately that Negan was going to say something. You had to prepare to grit your teeth through the entire encounter. Knowing that one day, Negan would be the one suffering, regretting the day he ever decided to mess with any of you.

"What's in that cup gorgeous?" Negan asked you as you took a sip the still scalding hot coffee.

"Coffee. Take it if you want." You offered your mug to him, anything to keep him sweet.

"See. Rick, I like her. She immediately offered her stuff to me. Just like that, I didn't have to ask. Now because of that, she gets to keep her cup of coffee. Tell me Sweetheart are you currently with anyone?"

"I have a boyfriend if that's what your asking?"

"Well, that's a dam shame. Sweetheart, if your boyfriend and you ever decide to part ways. Just know that you can always share my bed back at the Sanctuary. I've heard break up sex is great, especially when it's not with your ex." Your eyes widened, at Negan's bluntness. He had most definitely come onto you.

"Y/N, can you go and do that thing I asked you to do earlier." Nodding, you walked away rather quickly. You couldn't believe that Negan dared to hit on you. Just days after he bashed two of your dearest friends skulls in.

Strolling through Alexandria, you realised Rick didn't give you anything to do. So you observed the Saviours taking everything from your friends and family. You've never met a group of people who would just take everything from everyone.

"You looked pretty relaxed, for someone's world who has just been smashed to pieces."

"You would know that, wouldn't you? I really do not understand why Daryl ever tried to help you. It makes me wonder, how you can stand by a man like Negan." You snarled, recognising Dwight. You would never forgive him for what he did to Denise.

"You know I like my woman feisty. Perhaps I could see if Negan will let me take you back."

Dwight pushed you up against the house. The touch of his skin made your skin crawl. He was just as bad as Negan was. The feeling of his breath on your skin, the closeness of the two of you was all wrong.

"Get off of her!" Rosita snarled pushing Dwight off of you. You were relieved, which was an understatement. Standing up to Dwight, the two of you stood side by side.

"You are here to collect food and furniture. Not people, now get away from here, and if you ever touch her again, you'll be the one dead. Do I make myself clear?"

"The last time I checked I wasn't a piece of property, now go."

"This isn't over."

Dwight pretty quickly scrambled away, leaving you and Rosita standing together. She put an arm on your shoulder as you thanked her. She knew where you needed to be, who you needed to find. He was the only one who made you feel comfortable after anything happened.

Running all over Alexandria, searching for Eugene, you eventually found him passing something to a Saviour. He didn't notice you at first until he was further away from the Saviour, you ran into his arms, catching him off guard.

"Hello to you too." When you didn't reply, he immediately knew something was off. At first, he didn't push it, rather than that he cradled your head reassuring you.

"What happened?" Pulling away from him just enough so you could face him. You kept your arms wrapped around his neck, playing with the loose hairs at the bottom to comfort you.

"Dwight just came onto me. He pinned me up against the house. I didn't know what to do- I just froze."

Eugene's stomach sunk. They thought they could do that? Trying to force someone into a situation like that, Eugene brought you closer together letting you, nuzzle your head into his neck. He knew you needed to feel close to him right now. Slowly rocking you back and forth, Eugene realised something.

The Saviours were going to attempt to destroy all of you by destroying the world that you had built for yourselves. They didn't want a world where they weren't in control of it. Most importantly, he realised that now the Saviours were calling all of the shots, there would be no right time to propose to you. He needed to let them all know that you were with someone, and if you wanted him to let them know so was he. He would gladly wear a ring on his wedding ring finger. Now, however, time wasn't on his side. So he would propose, tonight.

#Beauty and the scientist #eugene porter imagine #the walking dead imagine #twd imagine #eugene porter imagines #the walking dead imagines #twd imagines #eugene porter oneshot #the walking dead one shot #twd one shot #eugene porter one shot #the walking dead oneshot #twd oneshot #Part 2

47 notes · View notes

hydrangeasimagination · 5 years

Note

Mochi and admires as disney princesses movies Tama(Snow white) Tsu(Little mermaid)Neito(Princess and the frog) Toshi (Tangled) Mei(Atlantis) Ocha(Cinderella ) Miri(Sleeping beauty ) Momo (Aladin)

Alright, why not?? I love this idea! Honestly, I’d switch Tsu and Neito around but I can definitely see all of these.

This is gonna be a long one!

Oh, and spoilers for all mentioned Disney Movies.

~ Dari

Tamaki as Prince Florian

when he met you at your parents’ castle, he was taken by you immediately as you were so accepting to his timid behavior

which he was unused to as people thought it was unsuitable for him as such a strong prince

he had heard of a royal being placed to rest in the deep part of the forest from a fairy friend of his

he longed for the change to see you again but… not like this

there he found you in a glass box, guarded by the four men that had taken you in

upon hearing what had happened, he was saddened but had requested to give you one last kiss goodbye

your adopted brothers and father, were the slightest bit weary of him at first

but when they see that he has nothing but good intentions, only wanting to say goodbye to the person he loved one last time

when you woke though, the entire forest seemed to thrum with life again and you were so happy to see him

he took you and your family to live with him in his castle, taking the throne with you by his side

Tsuyu as Ariel

she had always longed to see what humans were truly like and she had the chance to one night upon a large ship is where she spotted you, playing the flute whilst you danced with your crew

the devastatingly beautiful smile that graced your lips had her heart bubbling with adoration and when a storm broke your ship to pieces, she was quick to save you and struggled to drag you onto land

when you were awoken, all you could remember was being saved by a gorgeous woman with a lovely voice

she took off for the sea when she noticed a certain loud-mouth ash blond almost desperately searching for you

after seeing the sea witch to be able to walk on land, unfortunately at the expense of being unable to speak and having to get true love’s kiss from you to keep her legs

over the days she spends with you, she’s so happy that she’s able to slowly draw your heart into her hands

a woman suddenly appears that claimed to be the person that’s going to save you, someone that you stated you were going to marry

but it seemed the three that you introduced as your brothers were skeptical of her, as you seemed so deeply enamoured with Tsu

the two of you combined and a ship were able to defeat the sea witch

after seeing that you were willing to do anything to save his daughter, her father gives you both what you had wanted; your happily ever after

Neito as Prince Naveen

you wanted nothing more than to reach your dream of finally opening a restaurant, bringing smiles to everyone and making your family proud; being the type of person to never ask for help, you wanted to be able to make the money yourself

even so, you had the support of your loving father, brothers, and your dearest friend: Mina

the chance to be able to achieve your dream came on the night of at the Ashido’s where you were catering to a large masquerade ball, but it was quickly snatched from you as soon as it came

you thought it came again when you found a little frog that claiming to be Prince Neito that if you kissed him, you would undo his spell(cast onto him by a witch doctor) and he’d fund your restaurant

it only turned you into a frog as well since you weren’t royalty as he had thought

afterwards, you were pulled into an adventure that had you not only realize that hard work should be in moderation but also falling in love with the previously egoistical Prince who grew to fall for you too

along the way, you meet a trumpet playing gator named Kirishima, a singing firefly named Ray, and the sorceress by the name of Mama Chiyo

even after escaping the shadow man and being unable to break the spell in the way you thought and finally revealing to your family and closest friend of your transformation, the two of you were just happy to be in love no matter what you happen to be

the minute you became his spouse, you were considered royalty and therefore, had ended up breaking the spell that had made you both meet and fall in love in the first place

you got your restaurant… but you now also had a husband and new friends

Hitoshi as Eugene Fitzherbert

the two of you didn’t meet on the best of circumstances but upon meeting you, the sheltered ditz with a crap ton of hair, he couldn’t help but be a little charmed

he doesn’t really show you to the lantern festival willingly, at least, at first as you had the crown he stole and he had got through so much trouble procuring it after all

as you help him evade the guards and saved him from the ire of a very intelligent horse

throughout the entire thing, he finds himself more and more endeared to you, especially when you save and and heal him with that hair of yours

right under his nose, his heart was stolen by you and the crown is something he considered as nothing more than secondary

Gothel had used his previous reputation to get him arrested, only for him to escape again with the help of the charmed tavern of criminals

with the help of the horse that once was trying to put him behind bars, he found his way to you again, only to find that it was a trap set by Gothel

his heart sunk at the mention of you being locked away again, even if you were just to heal him from the mortal wound he sported; instead, he cut your hair to save you from that fate

he genuinely didn’t expect to survive to once again look into the eyes he loved so much, to be able to reunite you with the family that had been missing you for all of these years

being able to get married to you was a dream and he finally figured out something that he had wanted, somewhere he belonged

Mei as Milo Thatch

it’s been a long time since I’ve seen Atlantis: The Lost Empire so I'mma just write what I can

when she discovered the book, she poured everything into it and followed her fathers footsteps into the search for Atlantis

despite being rather skeptical of those she came with, she nonetheless trekked onwards

upon meeting you and your brothers, of whom saved and healed her and her party, she grows a deep fasination in the crystals that you all donned

despite your father’s worry and deep concern for the appearance of outsiders, she tries to prove that they were peaceful and bring no harm

as she finally has time with you, swimming and talking, she finds herself slowly growing more and more enraptured

the events of the expedition leader, Rourke taking you as hostage and fusing you with the Heart of Atlantis happens as it does

but she had the support of your brothers and father, who had almost succumbed to his injuries if not for her quick thinking; he told her how to save you

Rourke and his men were thankfully defeated, especially with your brothers’ destructive use of their crystals

despite the chance to tell the world that her father wasn’t a madman and that Atlantis was real, she decided to stay with you, the person she grew to love

Ochako as Cinderella

after the death of her birth parents, Ochako had no one else except for her stepmother and step sisters and she was tight under her thumb

when she had the chance to leave the house, to finally feel free, it was ripped from her… along with the dress her friends had made her

but with the appearance of her fairy god mother, she once again was able to help Ochako have just a night of freedom

meanwhile, your father had arranged a ball to allow you and your brothers to meet people, you were technically the only one other than Izuku, that were legally counted as the heir to his throne

when you saw Ochako, you couldn’t take your eyes off of her but neither could your brother but he gently urged you to go and ask her to dance

which you did, completely blowing past her stepsisters, much to the dismay of Katsuki; who now had to deal with them

the two of you danced and talked the whole night and soon, by the time the clock struck midnight, you chased after her after she said she had to leave but was only had the glass slipper she accidentally left behind as a reminder

that morning, your brothers and you went on a mission to find the girl that you started to fall for but the difference is… you could never forget her face

Izuku was also smart enough to check over the records of every house to make sure no one could be missed

she was freed at last, even though she was sad to leave behind the home her parents had left to her

Mirio as Prince Phillip

he had seen you once when you were barely even a year old, but nonetheless

you were whisked away by your fairy brothers under the request of your father as a way to keep Maleficent from making her curse on you come true

but the sight of you dancing through the forest though and can’t but be amused and amazed at the sight

your beauty caught his eye and your kindness ensnared his heart, after dancing with you, he told you he would see you again but when he went to the cottage that was your home; he was taken by Maleficent and imprisioned

at the same time, you were put to an eternal sleep by the spinning wheel, as she had said

to keep sadness from plaguing the entire kingdom, your brothers put the rest of them to sleep with you as they try to find a way to undo the spell that would help everyone awaken

upon hearing true love’s kiss would break the spell, they went to find Mirio trapped, barely alive but alive nonetheless

reversing the effects of what had happened to him, they aided him in defeating and slaying Maleficent

they knew they were right in choosing him to break the spell, as he and you were already deeply in love with each other and it was able to completely undo the spell

he was happy to take your hand once you were awake, and if you would have him

Momo as Princess Jasmine

when she met you, she couldn’t help but be charmed by you and your seemingly simple life although her heart aches when you softly state you wish you didn’t have to worry about food and things of the sort since you had stolen for your family

but unfortunately, you were imprisoned due to your stealing but it was better you than your brothers or father

it turned around when an old man busted you out and said you were the only one to be able to enter an enchanted cave to retrieve a lamp for him, he tried to just take the lamp and leave you trapped

the genie of the lamp was able to save you from the cave and turn you into a royal, as per your request

Momo thought she’d never see you again so when a noble like you appeared before her, she was incredibly prickly

you felt bad for misleading her but you thought that perhaps it was the only way that her father would ever consider letting you have her hand

also you had your family’s’ support in trying to court her; along with the help of the genie and your magical flying carpet, of which, you took her for a ride on to make her more comfortable being around you

by the time you were ready to tell her the truth, you were nearly killed by the Sultan’s adviser and his men

your identity was revealed after the same man that had attempted to kill you, after learning of his true nature as well coming up with the idea to completely defeat and trap him was forged

you had apologized to Momo over and over again, but she had already forgiven you… And her father had given you both his blessing

80 notes · View notes

freebooter4ever · 4 years

Text

Here is the request, a beautiful heartwarming rendition of Eugene Sledge losing his virginity to Snafu, but set in the AU where Snaf and Sledge met before the war in Mobile while Snaf was working on the docks. Now, two years later they meet again on Pavuvu with Snaf a war-torn experienced marine and new replacement Sledge still very adorable and naive, and after after some brief hostility due to Snaf being an emotionally constipated dumbass, they work out their issues and have some fun. Thanks to @lieblinggs who really wanted to see them meet during the war in this AU and encouraged me.

Apologies in advance, I tried, I’m not sexy, my specialty is fluff and humor you guys....this is the last time anyone’s gonna ask me to write smut ever again lol. The secondhand embarrassment might be Hard with this one.

Snafu is a ghost after Gloucester. The rain washed away all traces of his personality entirely and left him with very little to work with. He spends his days on Pavuvu avoiding doing anything, and he watches the slow progress of the healing sores on his skin like it's the final lap of the Indy 500.

He doesn't think about the future, all he knows at camp is warmth, his soft pillow, and the food he gets three times a day. After weeks of exhaustion, aches, and cold, he is finally comfortable. There's nothing much else on his mind besides that.

Then Eugene Sledge walks into his tent.

Eugene Sledge arrives on a ship, and with the ship comes the daily mail bags, and in the mail comes a newspaper clipping from Snafu's home town. As if one helping of guilt wasn't enough and he needs another to balance it. The article from home, delivered minutes before Eugene walked back into his life, only brings half-guilt though. It says nothing of Mairzy, who is probably still safe in Mobile. And instead says everything about Snafu. And his heroism on Gloucester.

That brings a little bit of pride which eases the sting of the guilt over leaving his sister behind.

He tries to focus on the letter and the newspaper clipping instead of the boy standing in his tent, with his crooked helmet hanging off his ginger hair. After Gloucester, Snafu can barely focus on anything at all. The five minutes when Eugene tries to claim a bunk in their tent is an outlier. Snafu's entire reason for being narrows in focus, and it becomes imperative that Eugene not live in the same space. He needs to convince Burgie of this, though Burgie unquestioningly plays along with the disdain Snafu started easily enough.

It's been two years since he saw Eugene Sledge. They did not part well. Snafu isn't so good with goodbyes.

"Understatement," Sledge mutters in the chow line behind Snafu later that day.

Snafu had just got done explaining all this history to Burgie while they waited for their flood, and Snafu hadn't even noticed Eugene was there, eavesdropping on them. Snafu's constant state of physical awareness must be slipping within the relative safety of Pavuvu.

Burgie takes one look at Sledge, and one look at Snafu. "I don't know what this is about and I don't care, but please make sure I still have an entire squad standing and in fighting fit by the end of it," he warns. And with that he collects his food and makes a run for it, leaving Snafu to face the music on his own.

Snafu turns around, and meets Eugene's eyes, and sees blank emptiness. Eugene isn't even angry. Snafu had hoped Eugene would be angry. That he would hate Snafu to the ends of the earth.

Neither of them say anything. They just engage in a silent stare down until someone behind them in line asks what's the hold up. Eugene turns around to apologize and Snafu ducks underneath the serving table and disappears behind the mess tent.

Snafu is in danger of saying something stupid. He can sense it, bubbling up in him like alka-seltzer in coke. One look in Eugene's damn eyes and he's falling in love all over again.

In retaliation for Eugene sneaking up on him, Snafu finds the skipper who always invents the worst work duties. Sure enough all it takes is some idle chitchat to convince the skipper that now is the time to clean out the oil barrels. Snafu offers to oversee the work, and suggests a couple new Boots to assign the task to, and the rest is history.

Eugene gets angry at him then. He glares prettily at Snafu from underneath his elbow while scrubbing drums. There's something else burning beneath that anger. Snafu can sense it in the way Eugene's gaze lingers on the movement of Snafu's hips - in how sometimes Snafu turns around only to catch Eugene looking away.

Otherwise Snafu avoids Sledge like the plague.

He does a pretty good job of it. Until the day Sledge disappears.

As Snafu walks by a tent he overhears one of the officers complaining that Sledge hasn't been seen since lunch. Apparently the boy skipped out on dinner and coconut detail. Which is an understandable thing to skip - nobody willingly subjects themselves to the smell and texture of rotten coconuts. Sledge's disappearance makes sense. Unless one knows Sledge, and knows he would never shirk duty no matter how unpleasant.

Snafu also knows something else the officer didn't consider and maybe Sledge didn't even know - certain members of How company were scheduled to rotate home this morning. As far as Snafu knew, their ship already left dock. So it doesn't take much to guess where Eugene might be.

He finds Eugene sitting on an empty cot in Phillip's old tent. Eugene is holding a book in his hands but he isn't reading it. His head hangs between his shoulders in defeat. He doesn't acknowledge Snafu when Snafu steps into the tent, even though Snafu's shadow falls over him with the harsh evening light so low in the sky.

Snafu hesitates to enter so he hovers in the doorway. There is a second cot across the room. But there is also a little sliver of space next to Eugene on the first cot that Snafu knows he could squeeze his butt onto if he tried.

"Left alone again?" Snafu asks. He tries to sound sympathetic.

Eugene looks up. He clearly did not expect the person in the doorway to be Snafu. And - oh! - Eugene's eyes are full of hope. Snafu makes his decision. He crosses the room and sits next to Eugene. They're so close there isn't an inch of space between them.

Snafu turns his head and rests his nose on Eugene's shoulder. He closes his eyes, and breathes.

He missed how Eugene smelled

"You'd think I'd be used to being the type to be left behind by now," Eugene gripes.

Snafu snorts. "It ain't you," he mumbles into Eugene's shoulder, "It's us. We're just dicks."

"Sidney is not a dick."

"But I am?"

"Jury's still out on that one"

Snafu grins. He turns his hips in towards Eugene so he can wrap his arms around his waist and press closer in a sort of half hug. "Guess it's a good thing you're fond of my dick, then." He kisses Eugene's neck, "You certainly felt me up enough times. Remember the day under the bridge by your house?"

Eugene sighs in exasperation and tilts his head back, "God, Merriell."

"Jury out on that one too? Cause if you need me to jog your memory…"

"Why didn't you say goodbye?" Eugene interrupts, "Why did I wake up one morning to find your house empty and Mairzy alone?"

Snafu holds Eugene and thinks about that one for a bit. He finally surmises, "You would have asked why I was enlisting."

"Why were you enlisting?" Eugene asks.

"For you," Snafu admits. He turns his face in towards Eugene's neck. Takes another deep breath. If he doesn't face Eugene, Snafu can pretend the man next to him is still the same boy who skipped class every day to bicycle down to the docks where Snafu worked, and kiss him behind the pilings.

"I would have stopped you," Eugene says.

"I know."

They sit in silence for another beat, and then Eugene asks a second question, "You fought in the same battle on Gloucester, you must have some insight. Why didn't Sid tell me goodbye?"

Snafu takes a deep breath and debates giving Eugene the real answer.

He doesn't think you're going to live. Keeping attachments is a hazard here.

"If you were at those same battles," Snafu concludes quietly, "You'd realize there's no room for thought, and no insight to be had."

Eugene nods, "Guess I'll learn." He sounds scared.

Snafu tightens his hold around Eugene's waist.

During another long silence Snafu works up the courage to ask a question he's been wondering for two years.

"Did you love him?"

The question seems to genuinely startle Eugene. And then the dots connect. "Sid?" Eugene asks, "Of course I loved him. He's my best and oldest friend in the whole world."

It's Snafu's turn to nod, resigned. He rests his forehead on Eugene's back.

"But also…" Eugene says quietly, "No. I didn't love him like I loved you. God Mer, I never loved anyone like I loved you."

Snafu sits up so he can look Eugene in the eye, "You loved me?"

"Yes," Eugene says, smiling back, "Not that you gave me much chance to."

Snafu grins.

"What about you?" Eugene asks, "Still carrying a torch for me or did you find some girl in Melbourne too?"

Snafu leans back, his smile widens, "Who said anything about girls?"

"Sid slept with some woman in Australia," Eugene says.

"You jealous?" Snafu asks.

Eugene ignores him. "Sid claims war is the opposite of that...the opposite of sex, he means. I guess. I wouldn't know anything about either," Eugene says. He sounds grumpy.

Snafu laughs, "Sex ain't all it's cracked up to be."

"You're saying it should be closer on the scale to war?"

"No, I'm saying some parts are great but there's a lot of bullshit that goes with it," Snafu explains, "I wouldn't use it as a benchmark."

"Did you sleep with someone in Melbourne?"

"I'm not a virgin, Eugene. Not now; not in melbourne; nor was I two years ago when I met you."

Eugene abruptly stands up from the cot. He wipes his hands on his pants. His palms are red and Snafu bets if he touches them, they'd be hot.

Snafu leans back on the cot and surveys Eugene.

"So what part's the bullshit, then?" Eugene demands, "In sex?"

Snafu shrugs nonchalantly, "You try growing up queer in New Orleans where the only men who'll fuck you are the older ones who insist you keep silent about it. Who treat you like the dirt you live in."

"Men who were ashamed of you?" Eugene asks, "Like you accused me of being?"

"Ashamed of me and of themselves," Snafu replies, "Don't care about anyone's pleasure except their own. Can make sex real unpleasant sometimes. And once it gets associated with pain, real hard to seperate it."

"Mer, why would you…?"

"Better than nothing. When you're alone," Snafu kicks his legs onto the cot and lies down with his hands behind his head, "Don't deserve better anyway. I can take the bullshit." He looks at the tent canvas and listens to the sound of the rainstorm pounding hard on the roof.

He can't see Eugene but Eugene doesn't stop watching him.

"So what's at your other end then?" Eugene asks, "For you, what is opposite war on the spectrum of human experience?"

Snafu contemplates quietly for a few minutes and then says, "Do you remember that night I got so drunk that you hunted me down, found me, took me home, and let me sleep in your bed? And you went to school and I stayed under your covers all day? And I didn't have to get up for nothing except to have food served at my door. Just laid in bed for hours and read all your journals."

"You read my journals?" Eugene says incredulously.

"They were enlightening," Snafu turns his head and lifts his chin to smirk at him.

"They were at least ninety percent about botany," Eugene protests, "Completely boring."

"And the other ten percent provided detailed descriptions of every handsome man who ever walked into your life," Snafu claims.

"Sometimes it's easier to describe what I see with words than draw," Eugene says defensively.

"Anyway," Snafu continues and looks back at the ceiling, "I laid around reading your horny thorny journals till you came home. And you crawled into bed with me. And you held me and kissed me. And introduced me to your parents. And they liked me, though I think they liked Mairzy better." He sighs and closes his eyes. He can still smell Eugene's room from that day. "That memory is what's on the other end," Snafu tells him.

"Mer…"

"Ain't ever loved anybody like I loved you," Snafu throws Eugene's own words back at him and smiles.

In a rush, Eugene bends down, grabs the lapels of Snafu's shirt, and kisses him passionately. Snafu barely has time to react.

"Shit, I forgot. " Too soon Eugene switches gears, wrenches his face away, and drops Snafu like a live grenade. Eugene lunges towards the tent door and knocks it shut. He peers through the mosquito netting before covering it with the canvas flap.

Snafu laughs. "Nobody's gonna be out in this storm. Nothing to be worried about," he says. He lolls his head back and resists rolling his eyes.

"Yeah and who knows how long the rain's gonna last," Eugene says as he unrolls the canvas covers of all the tent windows.

"It's gonna get hot in here if you do that," Snafu points out.

"Do you want to be court martialed?" Eugene asks.

"Depends," Snafu says, "What exactly will we be getting up to in here to merit it? Will it be worth my while?" He waggles his eyebrows.

Eugene finishes the last tent flap, steps over the debris and trash on the floor, and makes his way back to the cot to stand in front of Snafu.

"Before I go to war, I want to know what the other end of the spectrum is like," Eugene announces. He carefully places his hands on Snafu's shoulders, and then straddles his lap.

Snafu sits up, slides his hands over Eugene's hips and along his back.

"Besides, you've been teasing me since the minute I got here," Eugene accuses, "Time to follow through."

Snafu huffs.

"Are you telling me the oil barrels wasn't your idea?" Eugene asks, "And staying to watch me sweat? That was all on you."

"Ain't denying it," Snafu says, leaning in close, his eyes on Eugene's lips.

"So shut up and kiss me, then," Eugene says.

Every single bit of Snafu wants to. He runs his hands around to feel the flat of Eugene's stomach, no longer soft after all that bootcamp training. Slowly Snafu rucks Eugene's shirt up over his head. It gets tossed to the extra cot behind them.

Snafu keeps Eugene in his lap with a steadying hand on the small of his back. With his free hand he lifts the dog tags hanging around Eugene's neck.

"You got what you wanted," Snafu says. He runs his fingers over the name. First Marines. Bondurant.

Eugene smiles thinly and shakes his head, "You're a little behind on your intel." His hand closes around Snafu's hand holding the dog tags. He gently takes them away and swings the chain over his shoulder. "This is what I wanted," Eugene whispers right before he cradles Snafu's face and kisses him.

Snafu kisses back. He kisses back hard enough to drown out all his conflicted thoughts. If Eugene wants this, he can give it to him. And it feels good. He can add this to his list of comfort - warmth, sleep, food, and the feel of Eugene moving in his lap, Eugene's lips on his neck, Eugene's hands in his hair.

Oddly enough it's Eugene who breaks the kiss. Snafu moans as Eugene pulls away and climbs off Snafu's lap. Snafu tries to follow but he doesn't get far. Eugene gently places a hand on his shoulder to stop him. And then steps back.

Snafu watches as Eugene's hands undo his own belt and then the button of his dungarees. Eugene drops the pants to the ground and steps on them to pull them off his feet. He dips his fingers into the waistband of his underwear and slides them along the hem, looking nervous.

"We can stop," Snafu reassures him, "Or you can keep those on and go right back to kissing me. Don't gotta go any further than that."

Eugene silently thumbs the waistband and in one swoop, shoves them to the ground. When he tries to get his feet out of his clothes this time, he stumbles, and Snafu has to catch him before he falls over.

It's the first time Snafu touches Eugene's bare butt. And he can't help but giggle a little.

Eugene smiles too. He stands in front of Snafu and fidgets shyly. Snafu grabs Eugene's bouncing hand and tugs him closer. Closer till Snafu's nose bumps against Eugene's stomach.

"This ok?" Snafu asks. He tilts his head back to look at Eugene while he runs his hand up the inside of Eugene's thigh.

Eugene nods enthusiastically and mutters something under his breath.

"Sorry, couldn't hear that?" Snafu grins. He switches to touching Eugene's other leg - up the thigh and around his butt. Eugene's still got a death grip going on Snafu's right hand.

"Yes, Mer, it's more than okay. I thought you were old hat at this, do I have to spell it out for you or…? Oh!" Eugene shudders into silence.

Snafu's throat is unusually dry whether from anticipation or - dare he say it - nerves. Snafu has to swallow and lick his lips a few times to get everything to go smooth. He's never been nervous going down on someone before, but Eugene is...Eugene. Snafu wants this first time to be as perfect as Gene himself.

Eugene, for his part, is watching Snafu with heavy lidded awe and looking as if he's about to faint. He groans and starts to sag where he stands.

Snafu pulls off. He gets up and puts his arms around Eugene to stabilize him. "Why don't you lie down?" he suggests.

Instead Eugene kisses him. He grips Snafu's hips, brings them both together, and kisses him desperately until neither of them can breathe.

"Gene…" Snafu smiles, "Gene, lie down. I'll take care of you."

Eugene doesn't listen. He tugs Snafu's shirt off and makes quick work of the button on Snafu's dungarees. Snafu stumbles with his pants around his ankles and Eugene actually fucking lifts Snafu off the ground by his waist so he can kick his legs free.

"Eugene…!" Snafu almost laughs.

"I won't drop you," Eugene promises, still holding him tight. He gets an arm underneath Snafu's ass and hefts him higher.

They kiss again, with Snafu suspended in the air, naked against Gene's body like some dramatic movie ending where the music swells and everything fades to black.

If this was a movie, they could skip all the ugly parts and he and Gene could go home.

"Lie down, let me take care of you," Snafu repeats. He pulls away from their kiss and stares into Gene's pretty dark eyes and waits for him to listen. Eugene has a habit of giving way to Snafu's expertise.

Sure enough, Eugene reluctantly releases his hold on Snafu and stretches out on the cot. His hands immediately reattach themselves to Snafu's hips when Snafu straddles him. Eugene looks calm and his unfaltering trust is a lot of responsibility laid on Snafu's narrow shoulders.

It takes a minute to line everything up properly. When Snafu sinks down onto Eugene's lap, he screws his eyes shut from the pain, but he hears Gene moan in pleasure. Snafu breathes through it, and keeps going. Till Gene's warm hands interrupt by sliding gently around his waist. Eugene sits up and refuses to let Snafu sink down on him again, holding his body still.

"Mer, are you alright?" Eugene asks.

"'M fine," Snafu mumbles, "Just takes a bit to loosen up. Not a lot to work with here on Pavuvu. Let me go."

"You looked like you were in pain."

"A good kind.."

"No! Merriell...just...stop…I refuse to hurt you" Eugene kisses him tenderly.

Snafu squirms. "Hold on…" Snafu crawls off Gene's lap and staggers to his feet, feeling a little off balance, "You said this was How Company's bunk right?"

"Yeah?" Eugene says, confused.

"Had a buddy in here," Snafu says. He wanders around the tent, kicking at trash and opening boxes, "He might'a left something…"

"A buddy?" Eugene sounds unimpressed.

"Do you want to fuck me or not?" Snafu asks, lifting a small container triumphantly. He tosses it to Eugene who unscrews the lid and looks inside.

"I do," Eugene says.

"Then don't ask about buddys," Snafu replies, "None of them matter. Haven't been with anybody since Gloucester anyway."

"I guess I should be grateful you know what you're doing," Eugene says, handing him the container.

The container is mostly empty, but there's enough to make things slide easy. This time Eugene rolls Snafu over onto his back and settles between his legs. He fucks Snafu slowly, watching his face for the first long while, as if making sure Snafu isn't hiding pain from him again. And oh boy does it feel good now, in a leisurely, drawn out, intense kinda way. Snafu enjoys every minute of it.

To his surprise.

It used to be the opposite. With the other guys it was usually quick. The faster he gets this part over, the faster he can jerk himself off and be done with it. But Eugene keeps hitting parts inside him that Snafu did not even know existed. Fuck reading journals, Snafu wants to do this for hours in Eugene's bed instead. Luckily Eugene is in no rush.

He seems more focused on kissing Snafu than getting off. At one point Gene slips out and he hardly notices, too busy sucking on his face. It's up to Snafu, grinning stupidly, to break the kiss briefly and line him up again.

Snafu hasn't been this sensitive around his ass for ages. All it takes is for Eugene to push up against him even lightly and Snafu is goddamn writhing underneath him. It's ridiculous. Normally he keeps a safe disconnect between that general area and his brain.

But - oh!

Fuck.

Eugene is turning that disconnect into a thing of the past.

Snafu thinks he must have moaned or something because Eugene pauses briefly and holds himself over Snafu, smiling goofily.

"Why'd you stop?" Snafu pants.

"Wanted to watch you," Eugene grins back.

"Fuck, Eugene," Snafu complains, drawing Eugene's name out in a groan, his legs still moving even though Eugene is doing nothing but lying there like a hard slippery dense rock between them.

"I think Sid might be right," Eugene says.

"You are not talking about Sidney Fucking Philips right now…"

"This is the most amazing experience of my life," Eugene brags, leaning in to kiss Snafu's neck and running his hand down Snafu's side as Snafu arches up into the touch.

"Shut the fuck up, Sledge," Snafu gripes.

"Mmm, no, I won't," Eugene hums against Snafu's collarbone, "You love it. I've seen you now. I know."

"Fuck, Gene! Please."

Eugene's hand slides between their bodies and strokes Snafu's cock - fucking adoringly - if a hand job could even be adoring - and, fuck all it takes is one second before Snafu loses total control, and much to everyone's surprise, cum squirts high and shoots far enough to hit Gene in the chin.

Snafu stares at Eugene, wide eyed with shock, and maybe a little embarrassment.

Eugene laughs. He gathers Snafu up even tighter in his arms, buries his face in his hair, and whispers, "I love you," his voice full of delight.

Snafu is slowly drifting back to earth, though he can feel his mouth still gaping like a fish. "You ain't done yet."

"I got too distracted by you," Gene replies. He slowly starts rolling his hips into Snafu again.

Snafu rolls his eyes at the sentiment.

Eugene pistons into him erratically, like he's chasing a high he doesn't quite understand how to reach. Feeling a sudden burst of inspiration, Snafu maneuvers Eugene to where he can hold Gene's face in his hands, wipe off the cum dripping down his neck, and then asks, in a serious voice, "Sledge?"

"Yeah?" Eugene responds.

"Hammer me."

Eugene bites his lip to keep from laughing and he presses his forehead to Snafu's but he starts to go at it a little more rhythmically. Snafu keeps his eyes open to watch it happen. He sees when Sledge hits the tipping point and starts pounding into him desperately. And sees when Eugene finally climaxes in a series of moans and breathy whispers of Snafu's name.

They collapse together in a slippery mess.

As could be predicted, Eugene is a snuggler and he clings to Snafu like a long-limbed sloth. He even falls asleep. And snores. Snafu curls around him and wiggles his fingers through Gene's hair to smooth all the knots out. That takes him a good long while. Eventually the rain stops. Gene sleeps on.

Burgie accidentally steps into the tent for a brief second. After the initial moment of shocked staring, he pivots to face the wall and casts his eyes to the ceiling.

Snafu's fight or flight instinct kicks in because Burgie is not leaving. Despite Sledge's bare ass being on display between Snafu's very naked legs.

"Well, that's a relief," Burgie comments idly, "I take it this means we won't be having any more personal problems among our mortar squad?"

"Right as rain, Burgie," Snafu drawls.

"Good," Burgie nods at the wall, his tone is friendly, "I'll tell the skipper you're both indisposed tonight. See you in the morning, Snaf." And then he leaves, shutting the door tight behind him.

The sound wakes Eugene up, finally.

Gene squints, and looks around himself like he's lost. His eyes finally settle on Snafu and his whole expression goes soft. He melts over Snafu's body languidly and props his chin on Snafu's chest.

"Yeah, after this I'm gonna have to move my benchmark. Take this into consideration as the most amazing indescribable experience ever," Eugene says.

He's looking so full of himself and smiley that Snafu would be tempted to take him down a peg or two if Gene wasn't also so irresistible.

"You can journal about it," Snafu suggests.

Gene snorts a laugh. He kisses Snafu's sternum gently.

Snafu stretches, his body starting to ache from lying around so long. He tickles Eugene's neck till he rolls off him in a fit of giggles. "Gonna have to change my nickname," Snafu says, "SNAFO. Situation Normal All Fucked Out."

"That will never catch on," Eugene argues. His hand starts exploring Snafu's body and is awfully close to reaching between his thighs again.

"Gene!" Snafu laughs. He flexes his hips and hums when Eugege's delicate fingers rub him lightly. He's still soft, but honestly, with Eugene, it probably wouldn't take much. "That wasn't a challenge."

"You sure about that?" Eugene asks impishly, "Cause I'm prepared to take it as one."

Snafu rolls on top of him and sits up. He pins Eugene's arms over his head playfully.

"Least we got a new nickname for you outta this," Snafu points out.

'What's that?" Gene asks.

"Sledgehammer."

"If you dare…" Eugene starts in a mock serious tone, "...to call me that in front of any of the men...I'll...I'll…"

"You'll what?" Snafu taunts.

"I'll kiss you in public," Eugene says, "In full view of everybody."

"You won't," Snafu calls his bluff.

"Maybe not, but I'll want to," Eugene says, "Every time you call me that I'll want to."

"Sledgehammer," Snafu drawls, taunting.

Eugene smiles, pulls him into a kiss, and Eugene's 'first time' quickly transitions into his 'second time'.

Snafu doesn't push the boundaries of the nickname. He only uses it in private, when he can whisper in Eugene's ear and Eugene can bend down to kiss him silly.

They search out places they can be alone. It isn't too difficult to do but the farther they wander from civilization, the less hospitable the environment is. After a few days of discovering how uncomfortable sand can be in sensitive areas of the body, and a few 'times' of almost getting caught by fellow Marines less friendly than Burgin, Snafu comes up with the bright idea to borrow old tent material and use it as a blanket. They hike through the jungle to an isolated beach cove and stretch the stained canvas over the sand.

"Does it keep getting better every time?" Eugene asks Snafu afterwards.

They're lying on top of each other, still naked and sweaty. Snafu is itching for a smoke. He reaches for his pants, but Eugene, knowing exactly what he is going for, places a gentle hand on his shoulder to stop him.

Snafu grunts and shifts so he's nestled more snugly between Eugene's legs. He works out his craving on Eugene's neck, and takes great pleasure in sucking a hickey in a place Eugene can't possibly hide.

"I'm wondering how often I'll need to move that benchmark," Eugene continues.

"As if I'm the expert?" Snafu asks.

"You are the one with more experience here…" Eugene says.

"Not like this," Snafu lifts his head to stare into Gene's eyes, "Never had nothing like this, Sledgehammer."

There's a fire in Snafu and it's not lust. Or maybe partially, but another part, a deeply buried protective streak, desperately wants Eugene to keep this. This warm happy glow around sex. Cause Snafu's benchmark is moving too, in a direction he thought impossible, and the changes make him so dizzy he can barely keep up. Sometimes he forgets there was anything before this. That love and pleasure is as uncomplicated and joyous as Eugene believes it to be - completely unassociated with physical pain, with hatred. A total opposite to the carnage and destructive hell of war.

The thought of losing Eugene to war makes Snafu nauseous, and yet it's a constant awareness in the back of his mind, coloring everything they do. Eugene, meanwhile, remains blissfully unaware.

And fuck, that's gonna change, and Snafu is powerless to stop it.

They're going into battle tomorrow. This is the last chance he'll get to lay around and relish in the feel of Eugene's bare unblemished skin against his.

Possibly the last chance ever, if Eugene joins ranks with one of the many many statistics.

So he forgoes smoking and pours all his attention into making Eugene moan every chance he gets. Let Eugene have this. Let him hold onto this.

"Sledgehammer," Snafu says when he finds Eugene standing alone on the deck of the ship carrying them into battle. The sun is setting, and Eugene is beautiful.

Gene responds with a kiss intense enough to be worthy of their last kiss. Snafu promises to stick by Eugene's side during the entire campaign. They don't talk about any other possibility.

As it turns out, the first time Snafu uses Eugene's nickname in front of K Company happens after Eugene saves Snafu's life. The minute Snafu says "Sledgehammer" out loud, Eugene looks at him slyly. And in that single glance, Snafu knows they both understand.

tagging request @xmxisxforxmaybe

#sledgefu #bad germs

66 notes · View notes