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rogue-durin-16 · 2 months ago

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HEAD-TO-HEAD (part X/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst splattered with fluff/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget @ladystardustfromarss @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @sxalbatf @aliciax3

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark

Permanent taglist: @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, allusions to sex (barely)

A/N: I feel like this chapter got out of hand lengthwise but I'm the one making the rules, and the rules say no one cares about how long each part is. Maybe I'll update the next part before Thursday, maybe I won't, who knows? I'm chaotic and impatient so everything's possible!! Enjoy<3

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

Another slow morning, another goddamn plate of powdered eggs.

Since our return to England, every day felt ridiculously monotonous. It didn't matter how many maneuvers we did, how intense drill trainings were, it just didn't feel like it was enough to keep our minds running and our hands busy.

Maybe it was just me. Maybe Normandy had made something inside me snap like a worn out rubber band. No, it had to be all of us.

All of the veterans, at least. Fuck, there were too many new kids. New kids lucky enough to have landed on Easy Company, I thought to myself, after looking up and spotting Y/n and Bull chatting with five replacements. Probably explaining something to them, by the attentive faces staring at the two veterans.

A piece of bread hit me from across the large table. I blinked at Malarkey's smug grin.

"What."

"A bit early to be ogling, don't you think?"

"A bit early to put me through this shit, don't you think?" I dryly mocked the ginger.

He limited himself to hum, amused at my annoyance, and returned his attention to the most interesting matter at hand in our rowdy table; listening to Luz and Perconte argue over who could throw a deck of cards farther.

Muck was egging them on whilst Penkala was trying to set rules—something about trajectory and wind resistance. Not like any of us gave a shit.

I was halfway through tuning them all out when Toye gave me a nudge to move further to the right. As if we could spare space.

Y/n plopped down by Toye's left, leaning forward to ask us both, "What's going on?"

"They're throwing cards." Her friend replied, his voice raspier than usual due to the morning hours. "Seein' who gets farther. Malark's running a bet, if you wanna join in."

"It's too early for this." She sighed, stabbing at her breakfast halfheartedly.

"That's what I'm saying." I agreed, pointing my fork at her.

"Wow, agreeing with me, Liebgott?" Her arm stretched out to jokingly place the back of her hand to my forehead. "Should we call for Roe?"

I swatted her away, earning a 'for fuck's sake' from the man between us. "Woke up feeling funny?"

"Very."

Mail time interrupted Perconte and Luz's little competition.

A new guy—one of the replacements, I figured—walked down the aisle between tables, calling out names. Nobody gave him much thought, barely glancing up as letters landed in front of them.

One dropped by my tray. Not for me. One dropped in front of Y/n. She didn't seem too interested either, fingers lazily tapping the envelope before flipping it over.

I went back to my eggs.

Then I heard it.

"What, you go to war and forget your manners?"

Everyone of us looked up at the guy, Y/n included. Her face shifted fast; annoyance flickering into something harder to read —maybe shock—, before breaking wide open.

"Ohmygod—"

She was on her feet in a second, launching herself at the guy, arms wrapping around him like he was the last lifeboat on the Titanic. And he —whoever the hell he was—held her just as tight.

The table went quiet.

I dropped my fork, stomach twisting into bothersome knots. I scanned my friends' faces and told myself I couldn't be the only one feeling like this.

Y/n's tone was unmistakably soft when she whispered something into his shoulder, her voice too quiet to catch any words. She wasn't letting go.

Toye looked over his shoulder. "You her brother or somethin'?"

The guy laughed, finally pulling back from her. "Old friend."

Old friend.

I scoffed under my breath, picking my fork back up. "That's what they're calling it now?" The backhanded comment was low enough to stay out of Y/n's earshot, but the men around me heard it loud and clear.

Muck shot me a look. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothin'," I shrugged, stabbing at my eggs again. "Just never seen her jump into anyone's arms like that before."

"Jealous, Lieb?" Luz smirked, folding over the table as far as he could to keep the comment down.

"Oh, Jesus Christ."

But my eyes were still on her. On them. The way her body had eased into his arms, like, for a second, the weight of the war we all carried wasn't real for her.

Y/n was still holding onto him— barely, just to clinge onto the touch. Her fingers, slightly unsteady, gripped his arm as if she let go, he'd disappear.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she finally asked, voice hovering somewhere between disbelief, concern and the happiness that comes from being met with a piece of home.

The guy grinned. "Delivering mail?"

She pulled back, just enough to smack his arm without having to put any actual space between them. "You're supposed to be in Norfolk, sitting this out. Are you stupid?"

The teasing edge in her voice didn't quite mask the worry underneath. Yeah, this guy wasn't just an old friend, was it?

The man's smile softened. "Finally got the greenlight."

Y/n frowned. "From who?" She was too wrapped up in the conversation to notice the blatant snooping on our part.

"Some doctor with bad judgment, apparently," he joked. "Said I'm not allowed to do much, but at least I get to be here. Figured I'd rather be in the game late than not at all."

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Christ, Andy…"

Andy.

I could feel Muck and Luz exchanging glances, Penkala turning his head to whisper something to Malarkey, even Toye was side-eying Andy. They were waiting, letting it play out until she came back to us.

I was already over it.

Y/n's hold hovered at his elbows, her body language completely open in a way we had never seen before. And Andy— he was looking at her like she hung the goddamn moon.

Not exactly how you'd look at a friend.

"Wait—did you get assigned to Easy?" She pointed her thumb at our general direction.

Oh, fuck no.

"Hell, I wish." Andy denied and added, "Some guy from basic training saw your name on the mail roster and mentioned it in passing. Switched shifts with him soon as I could."

That made me turn.

My mouth started running without sparing my mind any time to catch up with it. "What, you went around basic dropping her full name?"

Y/n's brows shot up. Luz snorted. Malarkey kicked my shin under the table, tearing a wince out of me. To everyone's surprise, Andy simply grinned. "Something like that, yeah."

"You like being the laughingstock, then."

Malarkey's boot met my shin again, harder. My retaliation was followed by a smack on my neck— Y/n's courtesy.

"Fuckin'—" I rubbed the now sore spot on the back of my head. "You're pretty damn eager to touch me this morning, aren't you? Fuck."

"You really don't know how to shut up, do you?" She spat, kicking the back of my seat.

Andy gave me a puzzled look. "Who's this?" He asked, addressing the woman standing in front of him instead of me.

"I'm—"

"A pain in the ass. He's a pain in the ass." Luz jumped in before the situation had the chance to escalate. "Ignore him."

"Yeah, he's having a bad morning." Malarkey clarified with a smile. "Right, Lieb?"

"Fuck you both."

"See what I'm talkin' 'bout?" Luz motioned at me with a flick of his wrist. "Bad morning."

Y/n's attention was back on him after that, although not for long, since someone from another table called for the mail.

"Are you free this weekend?" Andrew asked, all casual confidence.

Y/n snorted before answering with, "If they don't revoke our weekend pass, yeah."

"Good." His ridiculously blue eyes raked her form. "I'll find you."

That should've been the end of it, but as he took a step back, Andy reached out —an easy, practiced motion—, and tapped the side of her cheek with two fingers. A gesture that seemed so familiar between the two of them, it was almost nothing.

Almost.

I caught the way her lips twitched, like she was biting back a smile. Just like that, he was gone, walking off without looking back.

Y/n exhaled, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and turned back toward the table where everyone waited.

"Who was that?" Malarkey was the first to ask.

"A friend." Y/n answered simply, reaching for her coffee like it was that easy.

Penkala let out a low whistle. "Didn't look like just a friend."

"I don't care what it looks like." she stated, taking a sip of the lukewarm liquid in her mug.

Luz occupied his hands on recovering the cards that had been abandoned atop the wooden surface, not without a grin. "Childhood sweetheart?"

"God, no." She made a face. "I grew up with him. He's like— he's just Andrew."

Muck raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, Andrew sure looked happy to see you."

"You guys are worse than nuns." She messaged her temples at the snickering around her. "He's a good friend. Practically like a brother."

"Like a brother?" A scoff teared at my throat, making her meet my gaze. "You serious?"

"Dead serious." Her tone was a warning in itself for me not to keep pushing. "And he shouldn't be here, he's fucking stupid."

I pushed anyway.

"No, you're fucking stupid."

"Okay, what the hell's wrong with you?"

"Y/l/n, you can't be that fucking dense." She leaned over her tray, gaping at my statement. "That guy wants to be more than friends."

"Yeah, Liebgott? 'cause you obviously know him better than I do after seeing him for— what? Two whole minutes?"

"Looks like it."

"You know what—"

"Can you two shut the fuck up?" Toye slammed a hand on the table, making my cup clink against my plate. "It's not even six, I wanna have my damn breakfast in peace."

That shut us up. Both Y/n and I sat back like two kids who had just been scolded, reluctantly focusing on our powdered eggs.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

READER'S P. O. V.

I slowed down my rushed pace when I spotted Easy Company leisuring all over the tarmac, my boots crunching against the mildly frost-bitten grass. The men were scattered in small groups, some checking their chutes, some playing cards on top of overturned crates. I wasn't late. Good.

It took about three seconds for Don to notice me. Three seconds too quick.

"Well, well, well," he called out, tossing a pair of gloves at Penkala. "Look who decided to show up!"

I rolled my eyes, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth told me I wouldn't be getting off easy.

"Y'know, Skip," Malarkey continued in a mocking tone, "I don't think I remember seeing Y/n come back to the barracks."

"Funny, I was about to comment how she wasn't at the mess hall this morning." Muck leaned forward from where he was crouched by a duffel bag. "Had a nice, looong night with Andy, Y/n?"

The way he said it sent a ripple of amusement through the men in earshot. I narrowed my eyes at him. "Oh, for fuck's sake. Nothing happened."

"Oh yeah?" Malarkey drawled, grinning as he rocked back on his heels. "So you just—what? Took a nice long walk 'til sunrise?"

"Yes, actually." I dropped my bag by my feet and kneeled down to do a quick equipment check. "Did I miss anything?"

"We're still waiting on the officers." Penkala, who had been watching the brief exchange with the lazy ease of someone who enjoyed a good show, finally spoke up. "So far, the only thing worth mentioning is whatever's going on is that right there."

I followed his vague gesture across the tarmac, toward a small group of RAF officers gathered near the planes the division would use for the morning's maneuver. Except, it wasn't the officers that caught my attention.

It was Joe.

He was angled just slightly toward a woman in uniform; an ATA pilot, by the looks of it, who leaned against a Spitfire.

The woman laughed at something he said, tilting her head just enough for her curls to bounce with the movement. Joe grinned satisfied. Smug.

"What's he doing?" I asked, my voice coming out flatter than I intended.

Muck, still crouched, shot me a knowing look. "What's it look like?"

It looked like he was flirting. It looked like he was good at it. It looked like he was enjoying every second just for the hell of it. For some reason, that rubbed me the wrong way.

"You missed the full show last night."

I had to fight with myself to pull my gaze off them. "What show?"

"While you were walking with Andy," Malarkey sat down beside me with a groan. "Joe decided he wanted to get laid. Made it everyone's problem." The ginger opened my bag wider to help me make sure I had everything. "You know how he is."

"A productive evening, if you ask me." Muck rummaged through his things and handed me a chocolate bar, which I eagerly took since I had skipped breakfast.

"Skip won three out the four bets Guarnere ran." Malarkey clarified.

"Jesus." I made a noise in the back of my throat, something too disdainful to be classified as a genuine laugh. "And that's the girl?"

"The girl's friend." Skip corrected me. "That was the one bet I lost. I was damn sure he'd go for that one." He clicked his tongue, shaking his head "Lost two packs of smokes."

"Two packs?" I scoffed, half amused at the thought of Liebgott having enough criteria for Skip to bet on it. "Why were you so sure?"

The blond man hummed, feigning nonchalance. "She looks like someone I know."

Malarkey nudged him hard enough to make him sway. "Christ, shut up." he muttered under his breath.

"Maybe." Muck shrugged. "But looks like I was right either way. Where's Guarnere? I'm getting those smokes back."

I shot another look at the woman in uniform; her coy smile and the way she tilted her head to the side when Joe almost unperceptively leaned in, as if she was past his game but was indulging him nonetheless.

"That's not as funny as you think it is." I deadpanned, my eyes glued to her.

And just like that, he was off to another point of the tarmac where Bill animatedly chatted with Johnny.

Penkala furrowed his brows at Joe's act. "He's really workin' for it."

"He's not workin' for shit," I countered before I could stop myself. "She's already eating it up."

Malarkey snorted, zipping my bag. "Sounds like you got a problem with that."

"Why would I have a problem with that?" I shot back, a little too quickly. "I don't."

Penkala stretched his arms over his head, eyes landing on me as he said. "Hey, as long as Joe's got his fun, right?"

"Right." An exhalation, sharp and short. "Good for him." I raised to my feet again, dusting off my fatigues.

"Look at it this way," Malarkey mirrored my movements. "He'll be less annoying now."

"Maybe." I forced myself to focus on checking my straps. "Or maybe he'll be even more insufferable."

My eyes drifted across the tarmac again.

Stop looking.

"Fifty-fifty chance." Penkala replied, taking Don's helping hand in order to join us.

Stop looking.

"There they are." Malarkey pointed at Winters and Nixon, approaching the planes with the rest of the officers trailing behind them.

Joe spotted them too. He leaned in to whisper something in the woman's ear.

Stop looking.

"C'mon." Don's boot nudged my bag, prompting me to grab it.

I followed my friends' lead.

My eyes darted to the pair one last time.

Stop looking.

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rogue-durin-16 · 2 months ago

Text

HEAD-TO-HEAD (part XII/?)

Summary: Joe thought she was pretty. Had he just said that, things might have been different for them. Maybe they wouldn't have gone head-to-head at each other for three years like it was a contest.

Pairing: Joseph Liebgott x Reader

Genre: angst splattered with fluff/rivals to lovers

Tags:

Head-to-head: @derersketnoget @ladystardustfromarss @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark @sxalbatf @aliciax3 @jetjuliette @luvrottt @fromjupitertocentauri

Band Of Brothers: @fernando-jpg @chubbypotatoepie @tvserie-s-world @clumsy-wonderland @lordndsaviorwinters @lanadelray1989 @chanshugsaretherapy @hoddystark

Permanent taglist: @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @comfort-reads

Warnings: language, warfare, smoking

A/N: going through the 'Replacements' timeline like it's nobody's business (bc honestly it is nobody's business how little I like this episode).

Head-to-head masterlist

Band of Brothers masterlist

Rogue-durin-16 masterlist

The drop had been clean—clear skies, open fields, and not a single German trooper in sight. A miracle only suitable for a Sunday morning.

The only problem was the rain of equipment crashing down around us. Helmets, bags, loose gear that had slipped free mid-air. The simplicity of the jump was balanced by the need to move fast before something took us out from above.

I had just unclipped my chute when I caught movement to my left—a replacement, tangled in his risers, struggling to free himself.

I was on him in a second, dropping to my knees, my hands working quick. "Okay, stop. You're just tightening the knot—" I twisted one of the straps loose, untangled his arm; the tension snapped free.

The boy exhaled in relief, shaking his head. "Thanks, Sarge. I thought I was about to be a sitting duck." He glanced up at the sky. "Or at least a very flat one."

I snorted, sitting back on my heels. "You’re fine. C'mon."

I was midway through pushing up to my feet, a helping hand offered to the private who was lying on the soil, when someone yanked my arm so hard it wrenched a sharp gasp out of me, dragging me roughly two feet away.

The replacement was still laughing when the crack of something heavy smacking into the dirt cut through the air. A stray helmet, half-buried in the spot where I had just been kneeling.

My stomach clenched. It took a second longer than it should have to process.

Joe's voice snapped me back, his grip still tight around my bicep.

"Who has to keep her head straight now, huh?"

Twenty-four Hours Earlier

I was double-checking the chinstrap of one of the new kids was tight enough when I heard him.

"Heard mail boy kissed you goodbye." Joe was strolling past, his chute already strapped on, looking like he had all the time in the world. Like he hadn't been thrown out of a plane a dozen times before and was just here for the entertainment. "Wasn't he— how did he put it? 'an old friend'?"

"He is an old friend."

"You got a horrible habit of kissing your friends." I didn't give him the satisfaction of a reaction, so he kept pushing. "You liked it?"

I gave the kid a dismissing pat and turned to meet Joe's eyes. He was sizing me up, waiting for a response.

"Slept tight before the big jump?" I asked instead, low enough for just him to hear. If the rumor of my kiss had ran around fast, the rumor of Joe's night with Lorna had spread like wildfire.

Joe paused mid-step. "Oh, real tight." His smirk grew.

I hated the way he said it. Hated the way he held my gaze when he did, like he was daring me to ask for details. Like he wanted me to. I didn't bite.

I adjusted my harness, brushing past him as I did. "Keep your head straight, Liebgott."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I yanked free, my pulse still playing catch-up.

"Jesus, alright, mother hen." I shot back, rolling my shoulder in an attempt to shake off the moment as quick as it had happened. My eyes flickered to his. "Thank you."

"That's new." It was meant as a quip, but it held an undertone of candidness. "Don't get pancaked on Day One." He added, giving my sleeve a tug —'move'— before jogging out of the clearing.

I soon did the same, joining the regrouped Company out of the drop zone. Our slow, careful advance gave me time to take a proper look around.

A different land, different tactics, different faces. It was nothing like Normandy. One could only hope it wasn't as bad.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

JOE'S P. O. V.

The last thing we had expected was being met with an outward celebration, too overwhelming to navigate, too easy to get sucked into.

I kept my helmet tucked under my arm, fingers tapping against the metal as we moved through the joyful streets of Eindhoven. Men shook our hands, clapped us on the back, pulled us into bars before we could protest. Kids ran between our legs, bright-eyed and laughing. The women made sure every man in Easy Company got at least one kiss before the 506th finished clearing the town.

I reciprocated the enthusiasm, but I kept an eye out, too. The crowds were dense, the noise almost deafening; the Germans couldn't be far, and nothing this good lasted for long.

Still, the only signs of the war going on outside were two snipers who didn't stand a chance and a tank driving with us through the streets. There worse ways to kill time than enjoying the attention when it came.

No one was holding back, to the officers' dismay. Luz hoisted a kid onto his shoulders; Toye and Guarnere accepted drinks from an older man who damn near had tears in his eyes; Malarkey had three girls hanging off his arm, and so on.

Y/n was no different. She was smiling, easy and carefree. A couple of little girls jumped around her; she knelt down to stand eye to eye with them, her helmet coming off. They spoke animatedly in a language we didn't understand, but Y/n nodded along nonetheless.

The youngest one tucked a flower behind her ear, earning mocking hoots from Grant and Ramirez that she ignored in favor of the children.

My mind wondered before I could stop it —a bad habit that had been occuring often lately—, was this how she acted in the real world?

If we'd met in a place like this, instead of at Toccoa—if I'd seen her first in a bar, or a coffee shop, or walking down some city street in the middle of summer—would things have been any different?

Nonsense. I lived in San Francisco; she was born and raised in Norfolk. In civilian life, our paths would have never crossed.

Still, I watched her for a moment longer and tried not to imagine her in one of those bright dresses my sisters always fussed over, down Columbus Avenue, with heels clicking on the pavement instead of paratrooper boots stomping onto bloody gravel.

A woman grabbed me by the collar, kissed me full on the mouth. I smirked against her lips, let her have her moment before pulling away.

No use thinking about things that would never happen.

READER'S P. O. V.

The laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses, the wildflower tucked behind my ear—it all felt like something out of a dream. Certainly not what we had expected when the C-47s dropped us into occupied Holland, but no one complained. The love was mind-blowing in a way that made my chest feel warm instead of tight. A reminder of why we were fighting this war in the first place.

My gaze drifted across the street.

Joe stood in the outer circle of the town's square, a Dutch woman's hands curled into the flaps of his jacket, pulling him down for a kiss.

He smirked into it. Of course he did.

I didn't realize how much the moment cut through me until I looked away and felt like I had touched something too hot that left me scorched.

We all got kisses, and he wouldn't be an exception.

Against better judgement, I stared again. His arm snaked around the woman's middle for less than a minute, but it still made her giddy.

I tilted my head, unwillingly thoughtful. Joe was... charming. In his own way. Wasn't he? Not the kind of guy who throve on being smooth or polished, but the kind that got what he wanted when he wanted. He wasn't for everyone, at least not on the long run, but he didn't seem to mind either.

Was he like this outside of war? Did he move this easily from woman to woman back in San Francisco? Did he grin into kisses, pull away with that same careless ease, switch from one moment to the next like it didn't matter?

Did any of it ever matter?

Stop.

It didn't matter.

If we had met before all of this, before the uniforms, the blood and the suffering—would have I liked him at all? With the cocky attitude and his crooked grin; the way he moved through a room like he belonged there, the dark humor and tactless manners.

No.

Not that he would have noticed me. Ever.

Stop it.

The only reason he ever approached me at Toccoa—if one could label it as 'approaching'— was because I was the only woman in the company. Half the guys shot their shot at some point, not because I was pretty, but because I was the only option.

There we go.

It wasn't a new thought, but it left an old bitterness in my mouth.

The celebration felt different now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

With my back on the Dutch soil and my eyes to the still clear nightsky, the high grass swallowed me whole. The sound of the bombs reducing Eindhoven to ashes made the ground shake beneath me.

Should have figured the celebrations wouldn't last. I tried to focus on the softly exhaled smoke curling over my head; tried to push down the creeping thought of the little girls who had tucked the flower behind my ear.

Should have figured Joe would be right; it would have been a miracle for the operation to be successful, considering the Brits planned it.

The silvergrass cracked under someone's careful boots, stopping right by my shoulder.

"You holding up alright?" My gaze found Malarkey's silhouette standing over me, expectant.

I sighed, flicking the ashes off what was left of my cigarette. "They're bombing the town."

"They are." The ginger puffed out a tired grunt when he sat down beside me. "Bill told me Hoob left with a couple replacements."

"they're not gonna find him." I replied, eyes fixed on the stub between my fingers. "You got another one?"

Malarkey reached into his pocket, pulling out a crumpled pack. As he handed me one, he stared through his lashes, gauging my reaction to him saying, "Thought you stole cigarettes exclusively from Lieb these days."

A cheap bait. Unfazed, I sat up and took the cigarette, rolling it between my fingers. "He switched to Chesterfields. I hate those."

"Right." Malarkey allowed me a minute of silence whilst lighting my cigarette. Then, "I'm gonna ask."

"I don't like that tone."

"I swear on my ma's life" Don crossed his heart. "this'll stay between you and me."

With a quirked brow, I took a drag of my new cigarette. "I feel like I'm about to knock your teeth out."

It was meant as a joke. A joke that didn't land, by the serious expression on my friend's face.

"You feel something for Joe?" His voice was hushed, his upper body slouched on my direction.

"What?" No.

"For Liebgott." He clarified. "You feel something for him?"

"Where did that even come from?"

He stared straight into me, trying to dig out a reply he wouldn't find. "I could give you about a million reasons why I'm asking."

No, I don't. You're imagining things.

I settled for a flat "If you say so."

"Y/n, c'mon."

I held his gaze for an instant, and because I couldn't hide from Don, I gave him something. "I can't do this in the middle of a war," Maybe not what he was looking for, but not a lie either. "I gotta keep my mind where I need it."

Malarkey studied me for a beat and said, "He likes you, you know?"

He said it like it was an undeniable fact; like it was a simple, absolute truth; like he knew he was right.

"He doesn't like me, Don." I snorted, focusing more on the cigarette than on the conversation. "He wants to fuck me." My back searched the ground again, so I settled with a soft sigh. "I'm not stupid. I know what he's doing."

Malarkey chuckled, half confused, half concerned. "And what's he doing?"

"He's playing chase."

And you're- what?" He teared a straw and softly hit my face with it. "Playing hard to get?"

"I'm playing hard to kill. And you should too," I smacked his hand away, which only seemed to amuse him. "instead of gossiping like an old lady." I inhaled the smoke from my almost forgotten cigarette. "Your grandma would be proud, you're doing an excellent job at not minding your own business."

There was no bite behind my words, and my friend knew it. My lazy smile gave me away.

An easy silence settled among the two of us. The bombings had stopped, and the only noise dragged to our ears by the wind were the whispered voices of our company-mates.

"You're not gonna tell me, are you?" Malarkey wasn't asking— it'd be stupid to ask a question you damn well know the answer to.

I tilted my chin up, blinking with fake cluelessness a couple of times. "Tell you what?"

Don breathed out a laugh, shaking his head at my inquiry. "Alright." He muttered, and laid down beside me.

We stayed like that until the earth felt like cotton and the rustle of the grass turned into a lullaby. Thankfully, sleep found us quick, and I didn't have time to think about Malarkey's question.

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