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arriving fashionably late to a fandom (20 years)

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in episode 7/the last patrol when Malark when into the shower was that Eugene that passed by him? For like a split second?? I swear that was him and I’m LOSING my mind

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Worth It: BabeRoe

tw// language, violence, use of homophobic slur, light lemon, Babe Heffron x Eugene Roe

[PROMPT] Babe gets into a fight, and Doc patches him up.

Expecting a wild dog like Heffron to lay low was an utterly stupid mistake.

"Well, yeah? How about you keep runnin' that mouth. I got two hands free this fuckin' afternoon for a beatin' if that's what you're beggin' for."

He never started shit, but catch an idiot wanting to dish something out, and best believe he'd better be able to take whatever Heffron was offering. Because Babe never offered anything for free, much less a shiner in response to shitty egos. So if a fucker really wanted to start something...

"All I'm sayin' is that your doc's a fuckin' queen—"

He was really gonna get it.

He may not be the biggest, but he was powerful. Fast. First hook out knocked the Dog Company soldier out cold in less than a second, no stun. Being a runt out in the streets of Philly had calloused over his knuckles fairly well, and he wasn't a saint in Europe, either, if a bastard wanted to get ballsy. Lights went out for another grunt at his nine. Two more behind him, and he was a wild mutt unafraid to get his teeth bloody.

"Get this fuckin' bastard!"

More like they were gonna get it.

"What the hell—"

Act now, ask later was Guarnere's policy, as usual. His friend didn't bother to demand an explanation jumping into the fray to get his own fists swinging. Toye and Malark, too. Even pretty boy Tab tore his hungry mouth away from broad's chest to roll up his sleeves. The whole bar turned into an utter shitshow, with G.I.s brawling left and right: chairs breaking, bartender and staff out the door as civilian patrons ran out screaming, complete chaos.

It wasn't luck of the fuckin' Irish that kept him splitting faces. It was pure Babe; all Edward. All black rage gaining momentum every time the last phrase that started it all rang in his ears.

He wasn't an aggressive shithead for no reason, but he wasn't a meek lamb, either. Tolerance could only last so long before his skin flushed lobster red. Tolerance was unaffordable for an angry paratrooper who was over the bullets and the blood and the dirt and the stink of death and unwashed men and too many nights hitting the bottle and—

Tolerance was nonexistent when it came to Doc.

"Watch out! Eejit's got a shank!" Malark yelled out, and Babe had one second to twist his body to the left before a sharp blade sliced through where he used to be.

He spared the fucker less than a second before the nastiest cuff he saved only for dirty alleyway fights shot out of him. Boom. An audible crack of bone against bone, fist against face, knuckles split as much as skin against cheekbones. The whole clownshow had come to a climax as the cacophony seemed to wane over a weapon being drawn.

He wrenched the knife away from the other man and gave him a solid knee drive to the gut. Had him doubling over flat on his back onto the dirty floor of the bar as Heffron crouched over him. Spitting out a wad of blood, Babe sent the blade flying down, expertly embedding its body a mere hair's breadth away from the tip of an ear. He would've been okay sparing a minute of violence if it weren't for the chump rabidly swinging at him like a pathetic dog.

Fine. So they really wanted to play like that. Underhanded type shit. That was cool with him. He'd dealt with a lot of that back home; dirty is as does does—

"What is going on here!"

The familiar, commanding boom of none other than Lieutenant Speirs rang out throughout the room. Every single joe throwing hands froze in place, the roar of apes beating on each other ceasing to exist. One, two, three steps in, and hawkish eyes took in the scene all around them. Bloodied fists and faces. Smashed furniture. Place was completely trashed, with even the staircase leading up to the attic cracked in some places.

He was followed in by Lieutenant Lipton, as usual. Two observant hounds soaking in all of the details, assessing the damage, most likely drawing up the chaos they'd have to report to Battalion HQ. Buck wasn't too far behind. Three officers and a bunch of stupid enlisted: What a great ending to their rare weekend leave.

"You dogs learned nothing if you don't know what to do in front of an officer."

At that, every single grunt snapped to attention, the sharp footsteps of a salute executing throughout the air. Everyone stood still as Lieutenant Speirs began to prowl around his new hunting ground. He started off to the left. One by one, scanning, in his eyes, idiot after idiot, whether they were from Dog or Easy. Absolutely miserable lot.

He should've been less surprised when the hunter claimed his kill with no hesitation.

"Private Heffron, you are to follow me."

But then again, he thought, striding out of the bar as the other two lieutenants began to bark out orders for cleanup and further discipline, he felt no remorse. Nothing, really. He felt no remorse for the pain in his jaw and the impending punishment to come. He only felt the cold of the Belgian winter. He only thought of Doc and how Doc's cheeks turned ruddy from the snow, poor Louisiana boy who most likely never experienced a single flake until he hit Europe.

He only thought of Doc Roe and how maybe after all of this, he'd take him to Philly for the holidays.

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

"Shit, that's gonna be a pain in the ass," he bit out, wincing as Doc secured a warm compress to the underside of his jaw with clean linen strips. He craned his head back when the other man's chiding look made it clear he was to stop moving his wounded area from side to side. "Tell me the damage, Doc. You think I can bite into a turkey leg at that Christmas dinner they promised us next week?"

It was intentional, but he'd never tell. That familiar furrow in Eugene Roe's brow and those pursed lips: Babe couldn't say he'd had nothing but innocent thoughts about them at three A.M. Kinda messed up for him to summon them on purpose, but like he said: The Sisters back home didn't lose their wimples for nothing when it came to the third Heffron.

And he'd never go to confessional for this shit, either.

"You stop movin' it, it gon' be okay by next Tuesdee."

"Fair enough."

There was a long stretch of silence as he watched Doc get to work. He didn't have much bruising or cuts, but the few, he knew the other man wouldn't let him run around until they were addressed. He was tired frankly. Getting an ass-chewing by Lieutenant Speirs was bad enough, but Captain Winters? That was tough; seeing the disappointment in his superior's eyes as he spoke brotherly wisdom made him feel an inch tall, and he didn't even yell or get angry.

He had his next two weekend passes revoked, plus latrine duty and a ban on booze. He'd need to head back out to the bar to do his share of the cleanup, as well, after getting sorted by a medic, Captain Nixon's drunken orders. Whatever. He'd expected much worse.

He expected Doc to speak again sooner than the concern that marred his gaze.

"Malarkey done told me wha' happened."

Babe stared at the dark circles under Doc's eyes. There was a quiet sigh.

"Dey gon' talk like da' anyway. You gon' ge' hurt by dose couillons if you do da' again, you hear me?"

His voice was low and steady, but agitation flared at the base of Babe's spine. Never at Eugene Roe, however. Never at Doc. No. It was at the foul mouths running, the rumors, the nasty attempts at punching a man down, a man who selflessly ran to others' aid with the call of a "Medic!". All because Eugene Gilbert Roe actually had an immaculate heart and saw the good in others, an easy target for sinners to easily taint with their lack of purity.

All because when he looked at a man with those trusting eyes, only the wretched had no remorse in wanting to rip them out.

"Doc, I'm gonna be real. Someone talkin' shit, running their mouths: It doesn't bother me. I could give a rat's ass about a bastard's beef," he stated back, leaning forward to look at the other dead in his eyes.

He reached for Eugene's paused hands, bringing warm wrists to his lips to hold them there. He noted the other man's fluttering eyelids, the creep of heat that began to blossom across his cheeks, the shuffle and snores of the sleeping grunts in the other room, and the distant shelling in the dead of the early morning.

Holland and the sands of Normandy. Philly. Hershey's chocolates and the bits of blue bandana fabric tucked into his pockets, the first time Doc called him Babe. All reflected in his eyes. Inching closer and closer to the throat of the enemy.

Inching closer and closer to those parted lips he'd been thinking about the most.

"But if a fucker wants to run their mouth about my Doc Roe from Easy Company...I think I made it pretty damned clear I'm not gonna be as nice about it."

He slowly kissed the corner of Doc's mouth, tracing the lines of the other man's palms with his fingertips. Ever so gently. One on the left. Another on the right. Slow and steady. His gums ached with need when warm hands closed over his own.

He ached when Doc began to respond. Lips upon lips. Cheek to cheek. Utterly saccharine in nature the way they touched each other, and when the clock struck two, Babe didn't need to reflect back on whether it was all worth it or not, because it was. It all was.

What was more worth it than this? Nothing. Nothing was more worth it than the bated breaths against his neck and how he was able to taste the salt on Doc's skin. How his tongue was able to map the bob of his Adam's apple as he pulled the other man down on top of him. Tasting, wanting, completely Doc Roe's for the taking.

"Dank you," Eugene whispered into the crook of his neck, and Heffron thought his heart was gonna explode out of his chest.

"Dank you."

It was all fucking worth it to him. Each and every single time.

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AIN'T THAT BAD...AIN'T THAT BAD

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SO CUTE

request for liebgott and roe hanging out from @toadiarts

bonus paint as a thank you for the super generous tip!!

requests on my ko-fi

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Fem!Speirton :)

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Me and Babe became like family. He was at my house, or I was at his house. We did construction projects on each other’s houses. We did some work at Babe’s house, and he helped me remodel my kitchen. I made him do the hard work. I had him mixing cement! I thought, I need help, and there’s only one nut that don’t know what he’s doing, I’ll call Babe! We go out a lot, too. Partying and socializing. I drive and he doesn’t—he takes the bus everywhere—so I always pick him up when we go out. We went back to Europe in 1954 and 1959 and about fifteen times since then. We have a good time. Even though Babe’s nickname is “Grumpy.” That’s his nature. Babe is not flexible. He won’t bend for nothing. No way. He lives by his watch. Don’t be a minute late. Don’t even be on time, that’s too late. But Babe is a good guy. A very loyal friend. He’ll give you anything he has. He’ll give you the shirt off his back. Our friendship has meant everything. Just like with any of the E Company men, when you spend all that time so close together trying to survive, you got something you can’t explain. If I could explain it, I’d be a genius. It means something your whole life. Like every Christmas, the memories that time of year brings back are very sad. A lot of our buddies were killed. So there’s somebody there that understands.

~ Bill Guarnere

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GAWD LAWDY LORD I NEED HER

Some Fem!Speirs sketches

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can we talk about how much of a cutie pie spina is... when the other guy is asking if they have a surgeon or something and he says “it's just me and my buddy” <//3 comforting babe and hugging him so tight, helping out eugene... genuinely my favorite mostly-one-episode character in band of brothers

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I love how British men were so fed up with American troops stationed there in ww2 that they’d run around saying “the problem with you yanks is that over-paid, over-sexed, and over here” like damn nerd, what rich navy guy fucked your girl and made you shakesphere?

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genuinely fucking crazy how babe looks at gene in the foxhole scene because???? sorry if one of my friends said “bAaAbE” in a goofy ass voice and gave me THAT smile while I wrapped the bandana of my deceased situationship around his bleeding hand (I caused it) we would be exploring each others bodies immediately

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I love when artists draw historical alexander hamilton as a redhead little twink like yeees now I get the what my girl eliza saw in him

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Was watching George Washington (1984) miniseries~ and came across this little gem 😫 between him and Hamilton.

Just reminded me of History Has Its Eyes On You.

AND HE CALLED HIM "ALEX" ~ that's so precious 💔. They shared a father son bond indeed

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ARE THOSE DUSTY JUMPWINGS?

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my babies

most scenes are from: saxxscenes on insta!