#george luz one shot

[she-wolf09231982]

Joe Toye

“The Bunny and The Fox”

Summary: You thought Joe Toye was too scary to even consider a friend, but he proves to be not only a great friend, but also a lover.

A/N: One shot, Mature audience, JoeToyeX!FemMedic, WW2, Female Pronouns, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military and Medical Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, HBO Band of Brothers References, Mentions/Descriptions of Injuries, Weaponry, Smoking. Angst/Conflict, Smut, *John Wayne/McClintock Movie Quote*, FOREVER FLUFF

@awaterfalls 😁🪖♠️🦅❤️

These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

He always appeared so….serious. His face in a constant state of pissed off and disdain. If looks could kill, Joe Toye (and Johnny Martin) wouldn’t have needed weapons in the war.

You avoided him all through Toccoa. He just seemed like the type to leave the hell alone. But every now and then, you caught a glimpse of him smiling or laughing with the guys.

“Not bad.” You’d think to yourself as you admired his smile.

Since you trained with Easy as a medic, you rarely had an excuse to speak to him unless he was injured. Even then you kept your conversation short and sweet with hardly any eye contact. But with his low raspy voice came a sense of calm while you took care of him. You supposed he seemed friendly enough.

~~~~~~

June 1944 Post D-Day

Orders were given to take Carentan where German soldiers were being sheltered. Carentan was the main crossroad between Cotentin and Calvados where the ally force's tanks needed passage to attack the main objective, Cherbourg.

"Listen up!" LT Welsh shouted. "It'll be dark soon. I want light and noise discipline from here on. No talking, no smoking. And no playing grab-fanny with the man in front of you, Luz. We're taking Carentan. It's the only place where armor from Omaha and Utah Beach can link up and head inland. Until we take Carentan, they're stuck on the sand. General Taylor's sending the whole division."

Some of the men began to grumble under their breath. Everyone started to stir to gather their gear to begin the journey to Carentan.

Walking in a file formation on each side of the road to Carentan. You found yourself walking in front of Toye as Perconte proceeded you.

“Hey Toye, why you always in the middle when we convoy anywhere? Ain’t you ever in the front?” Guarnere teased.

“I go wherever the medic goes in case I get hit, Bill.” Joe responded.

You blushed and dared to sneak a glance behind you. As you did, Toye met your gaze shooting you a quick wink. You quickly look back to the front embarrassed he caught you acknowledging him.

“Awe now look what ya did. You scared her.” Guarnere teased.

You hear some of the guys laugh.

“Maintain your noise discipline.” Winters reminded.

~~~~~~~

"MEDIC!!"

You and Doc on separate ends of the streets trying to keep low to tend to the wounded.

You rush to two soldiers landing on your knees next to them, one on the ground with a trail of blood coming from his helmet, the other crouching over him.

"He's still breathing, help me carry him!" You call out. You each grab an arm of the injured soldier and drag him behind a building.

While you're working on the nameless soldier's head wound, a drug store gets blasted by German artillery not far from where you were, the force from the explosion sending you sideways into the brick wall next to you.

You shake your head to stop the ringing in your ears. Everything you could hear was distant as your vision became fuzzy and dark. You start to smack your ear trying to make it pop so you can get back to your senses.

“Y/L/N! We gotta move! Get up!” Toye’s muffled voice yelled out.

He grabbed you by the arm pulling you up to your feet. You still couldn’t barely see so you held onto his arms for dear life.

“I-I can’t see nothin’ Joe!” You called out to him.

“Ok, come on…UP we go!” You hear him grunt as he threw you over his shoulder.

You feel him trotting to safety while blast after blast erupted all around you. You feel him lower you as gently as he could to the ground against a wall.

“Hey, look at me.” Toye said as he guided your face towards his, “Can you see me now?”

You shake your head, “No, it’s all dark and blurry.” You reply as tears started to stream down your cheeks.

Were you going blind?? Is this it? You’re not going to be able to see your family’s faces? Never see your own reflection? You feel yourself slipping into shock.

“Hey! Stay with me now, ok doll? Don’t cry. Doc’s on his way.” You hear Toye’s voice break through your thoughts.

Doc ducked behind the wall with you and Toye.

“What’s the matta’ with her?” You hear Gene ask.

“She can’t see. Says everything is blurry.”

“Gene, I think I’m going blind. Am I going blind??” You asked panicked trying to reach out for him.

“What happened before she couldn’t see?”

“A shell dropped right by her and she went flying into a brick wall.”

Gene nodded, “That’ll do it. You got a concussion, Y/L/N, you ain’t goin’ blind.”

You released a sigh of relief.

“Joe, can you get her back to HQ? She ain’t no good out here if she can’t see nothin’.”

“I got her, Doc.”

~~~~~~~

Toye got you back to an aid station not long after Easy Company claimed victory over Carentan. You remained there until the following day after your vision returned. As you approached a group of the guys from Easy, you were welcomed with whoops and cheers.

“Hey! Look who it is!” Luz called out.

All the guys turned to find you walking towards them.

“Hey look what the cat dragged in!” Malarkey joked.

The chorus of laughter from the men lifted your spirits.

“Yeah, I look rough, I know. Thanks guys.” You greet.

You looked around for Toye.

“He’s over there.” Luz pointed out as he gestured with is thumb over his shoulder.

“Oh, I just, uh, wanted to thank him for-“ you began.

“-yeah, yeah we know. He’s over there.” Malarkey interjected pointing down the street.

You feel yourself get flustered so you scamper off to where they said Joe was. As you walk through the rubble that Carentan has become, you see Toye standing in a circle with a few of the other guys from Easy. He throws his cigarette butt on the ground, stomping it out with his boot before he turns and sees you.

His face lights up when he saw you walking up.

“Hey there she is!” Guarnere hailed.

Bill met you and extended his hand for you to shake, which you obliged.

“Good to see you, Bill.”

“Glad to see you up and about, doll.” He pulled you in closer, “Someone’s been real worried about you since they left you at the aid station, by the way.” He disclosed.

You pull back and met Bill’s face with confusion. He winked and motioned over to Toye with his chin.

“Go on and say hi to him.” Bill added.

You narrow your eyes at him and smile. You slowly approach Toye as he stood there with his hands in his pockets and smirking as he patiently waited for you.

“Hey, Toye.” You squeak.

“Hey, Y/L/N. Good to see you.” He replied with his signature husky voice.

“Well, if it weren’t for you, I probably wouldn’t be here. Thank you for helping me.” You say as you leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

You hear Guarnere whistle. You turn around and shake your head at him.

Toye cleared his throat, “It was nothin’.”

You both stood there awkwardly until Bill came over.

“Hey, the guys were going to go to the bar that survived the wreck. You wanna join us later for a few night caps, Y/L/N?”

“Sure, if I can find a place to get cleaned up.”

“Ok it’s that little place over there. We’ll all be there around 1900, aight?”

You knew Bill was scheming something for you and Toye. You look at him suspiciously.

“Ok, I’ll see you guys there later.”

~~~~~~~

You breeze through the front door of the pub and begin scanning the room for the familiar faces of Easy.

“Hey! Y/F/N! Over here!” Guarnere called out waving his hand.

You push through the crowd to get to the table where most of your guys were sitting. You catch Toye playing darts with LT Compton, Luz, and Heffron.

“What can I getchya?” Bill asked.

“Oh, whatever you’re drinking, Bill.” You reply.

“Comin’ right up.” He announced as he walked to the bar.

You look back to Toye and catch his eyes looking at you too. He smiled and raised his glass to you with a wink. You smile back and give him a little wave.

“Here ya go.” Bill returned handing you a pint glass of beer.

You cheers and take a hearty gulp.

“Thanks, Bill.” You say as you squeeze his arm.

~~~~~~~

The night was filled with laughter, banter, and taunts amongst Easy. And somehow, your glass kept getting magically refilled by each of the guys. You had to refuse Malarkey’s offer to buy your next round because you felt your head starting to spin.

“Ok, we’ll slow down.” Don chuckled, “But when you’re ready, I got the next one!”

“Yessir.” You quipped.

You turn towards the dart boards and see that Toye had moved. You began to search the room for him and suddenly stop at the bar where he was talking to a local woman dressed in a tightly fit dress.

You felt a distinct sense of dread mixed with anger, but you weren’t sure why. The longer you watched Toye leaning closer to whisper in her ear while she giggled, the more your rage boiled over inside.

“What’s the matter, doll? You gotta look on ya like you’re gonna murder someone.” You hear Guarnere chime in.

You avert your eyes to the floor.

“It’s nothing.” You say quickly.

Bill looked where you were just looking.

“Well ain’t that a son of a bitch. After all the trouble I went through to set you’s guys up, he goes and finds another bird to chat up.”

You look at Bill, “What do you mean set us up?”

Bill looked at you alarmed.

“Oh, well, I thought you knew. Toye over there has got it real bad for ya. Has ever since basic but he figured he never had a chance. I told him you were a catch and that you had a thing for him too.”

“Oh do I now?” You asked astounded by his response.

“Well, don’tchya?”

“I suppose he’s handsome. Good soldier. But looks like he’s not as sweet on me as you think.” You state as you gesture to Toye by the bar getting disgustingly close to the blonde bombshell.

“Ah, he’s an idiot. He’s just trying to get laid.”

You look at him with daggers behind your eyes. Bill’s eyes widen.

“Uh, what I mean is he don’t care about her, ya know? He’s trying to not think about you because he thinks you’re outta his league.” Bill hastily explained.

“Yeah? Well, I’ll get his attention.” You declare as you storm off towards the bar.

“Ah shit.” Bill mumbled to himself rolling his eyes.

You walk up to a soldier from Fox Company standing a few feet away from where Toye was with his new little friend. You approach the bar and slightly bend over to the surface of the bar and rest your elbows on it. The soldier noticed you right away and a devilish grin appeared across his face.

You look over at him and smile.

“Hey, angel, you’re the prettiest face in here.” He said as he scanned you from head to toe.

You see Toye look over the blonde’s shoulder at you. So you inched closer to the stranger.

“At least someone noticed how hard I worked on my make up tonight.” You say loud enough for Joe to hear.

Toye’s jaw started to tighten. Your plan was working like a charm.

“What are you talkin’ about? You’re a dish!” He returned enthusiastically, “Can I get you a drink?”

“A pint is fine.”

Toye excused himself from the company of his little vixen and approached you with obvious vigor. He stopped so close to you, you can feel his breath on your face.

“You think you should have anymore?” Toye asked in a low gravelly tone.

You were almost a puddle at his feet.

“What’s one more?” You dismiss.

“Hey, buddy, this one’s mine. Get lost.” The Fox soldier warned.

Toye glared at him, a clear warning with his fierce gaze to back off. “Shut up.”

He turned back to you. “You hit your head hard yesterday. You got a concussion, remember? Drinking too much isn’t good for you right now.” He cautioned.

The soldier behind Toye huffed outloud. You bring your face closer to his.

“How about you go on back to your little blonde bunny over there and worry about her?” You say softly staring intensely into his eyes.

You snidely smile and gently push him aside to accept the beer the Fox soldier was holding for you. Toye grabbed your wrist before you could get your fingers around the glass.

“Because I’m worried about you.” He sternly replied.

“Hey, pal, I’m not gonna tell ya-“

Before the guy could finish his sentence, Toye swung and punched him across the face sending him to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

“Joe, what the hell is the matter with you?” You bark.

He turned to face you, his teeth clenched and resentment in his eyes.

“Isn’t this what you wanted? You got my attention.” He said raising his arms to the side.

Just then, another Fox Company soldier soared in and tackled Toye. When Guarnere saw Toye get sacked, him and the rest of Easy rushed in, clashing with Fox Company in a battle royalé in the middle of the dance floor.

You grab a bottle of whiskey and force your way into the horde to smash it over the head of one of the opposing soldiers when you suddenly feel your feet swiftly leave the floor, and you find yourself once again thrown over Joe Toye’s shoulder as he rushes out the front door.

You start to push off of his back to look at him.

“What are you doing?? Put me down, NOW! This is completely barbaric! Were you raised by wolves??”

“Shut your mouth.” Toye said sharply.

He wouldn’t cave no matter how hard you struggled. He continued to carry you until he got to the house where you had been staying at with the field nurses. He opened the front door and practically threw you onto the couch in the main corridor.

“You’re an absolute animal, Joe Toye.” You snarled at him.

“Yeah? You haven’t even seen the worst of it yet.” He retorted.

You stood up, only to lose your balance and fell backward on to the couch again.

“Well save it.” You spit back crossing your arms, “You can go now. I’m sure that little dish at the bar is waiting on you.”

Toye furrowed his eyebrows at you, “You’re the only one even thinking about her. I haven’t even given her a second thought since you walked through the door of that place!”

You scoff, “Sure, Joe. Didn’t seem like it when your hands were all over her like a magnet.” You pointed out as you stood up slowly.

“Yeah?” He queried as he closed the gap between the two of you, “You mean like this?”

He roughly grabbed you by the waist and kneaded your hips with his strong calloused hands as he pulled you into him. Your faces so close, you thought he was going to kiss you, but he only hovered over your mouth. You were a deer in the headlights, your words caught in your throat somewhere. You almost forgot to take breath when you started to feel faint, so you took in a deep breath through your nose to recover.

You put your hands on his chest and started to push away.

“What are you doing, Toye?” You manage to say.

He jerked you back into him, slithering his one hand across the small of your back while the other one firmly caressed the swell of your ass. You tried to protest, but your voice betrayed you only allowing a whimper to escape from your throat. This man had you a melting hot mess in his arms and it only made you angrier that he was getting you flustered.

“What? Got nothin’ snarky to say now, sweetheart?” He teased.

The fire inside you began to rise, and you weren’t sure if it was because you were turned on, or pissed off.

“I hate you.” You sneered as you slipped out of his grasp and headed for the staircase.

Before you could lift your foot to take the first step, you feel yourself twirled back around and face to face with Toye in his arms.

*“Half of the people in the world are women…Why does it have to be you that stirs me?”* He growled before grabbing the back of your head to bring your mouth to his.

You wanted to fight back and push away again, but your body fought you, leaning into his body and fisting his uniform jacket to pull him as close as possible to you. You part your lips to allow his tongue to pass and explore yours. You playfully nip at his bottom lip eliciting a deep guttural groan from him. His hands scoured your body as his hips instinctively pushed his hard on against you. You dig your nails into his shoulders as you moan into his mouth.

You pull back, “Let’s take this upstairs.”

Toye only replied with a mischievous grin, then picked you up bridal style to carry you up the stairs. When you direct him to your room, he set you down to secure the door. Right at the moment he turned around, you forced him against the door and hungrily kiss him while unraveling his tie.

He grabbed you by the shoulders swinging you around pinning you against the door with a ‘thud’ then placed his hand around your throat. He tightened his grip enough to make a point he was in charge, but not hard enough to alarm you. You instinctively grab his wrist with both hands as you clenched your thighs together, hoping to get some friction against your core and to prevent the wetness from dripping down your leg.

You hissed through your teeth as a smile stretched across your face. Toye pressed himself harder against you, the bulge in his pants grinding into your pelvis. You slide one hand away from his wrist gradually finding your way to his belt buckle. His fingers around your neck increased their grip.

You ran your tongue along your lower lip. He looks from your eyes to your mouth as a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly scooped you up from behind your thighs wrapping your legs around his waist and carried you over to the bed, dropping you on your back onto the mattress.

He removed his tie, then with one hand unbuckled his belt all the while staring at you like a starved wolf about to pounce on his prey. You scoot to the edge of the bed and start to unbutton your uniform top. He situated himself between your spread knees at the edge of the bed.

You look up at him through your lashes and smile as you start to work on removing his pants. Your top partially open with your cleavage peaking through, he fisted the front with both hands and yanked the blouse off your shoulders. You wiggle out of the shirt and drop his pants and briefs as he removed his uniform top.

Now you were both ravenous for eachother just yanking off articles of clothing and throwing them carelessly onto the floor. Finally when he slid your panties off, a devilish grin graced his face when he saw how wet you were for him.

He looked at you roguishly as he glided two of his fingers up and down your drenched slit.

“Is this all from me?” His gruff honeyed voice had you melting in his hand.

You nod without breaking eye contact. He crawled over you, caging you in between his brawny arms. As his hardened dick rested on top of your center, he started to grind into you, coating the tip of his cock with your slick between your folds.

You couldn’t help but arch your back, rhythmically moving your hips with his to feel him rub against your clit. Your needy sighs spurred him on, knowing he was making you feel so good.

“Oh my God, Toye-“

“No. No more ‘Toye.’ I want to hear you say my name.” He commanded.

You stare at him.

“Fucking say it.” He ordered.

“Joe…” you breathed as you playfully nip at his lower lip, greedily locking onto his mouth.

He lifted you by the ass and pushed his length through your dripping entrance with one fleeting thrust forward.

You gasp then wrap your legs around his waist, waiting for the ride to begin. Joe unleashed over a year’s worth of pent up rage and frustration from the war onto you, railing into you in almost a deliciously painful pace. He was rough, and aggressive, yet attentive and sensual.

He sat up resting on his heels and angled you closer into him by hugging your thighs against him and driving into you, hitting that spot that had you edging to your finish.

He feels your walls constricting around his cock, and starts to slow his tempo. You look at him with a pout.

All you could manage was a strained, “Why?”

He pulled out and hastily flipped you onto your hands and knees. He reached around your front under your arms once again grabbing your throat with his perfect hand. He pulls you back until your back was flush with his chest.

He guided the back of your head to rest on his shoulder before he turned to your ear.

“You think that fucking Fox Company chump could’ve done this for you?” He hissed.

You feel his grip constricting your neck. You’re so fucked out you can’t help but laugh.

“Fucking answer me, sweetheart. You think that asshole’s got anything on me?” His voice rumbling in your ear like thunder.

You start to pant, your bare chest and peaked nipples heaving from overstimulation and restriction of oxygen.

“No, Joe. Never.” You huffed.

You feel his lips curl into a smile against your jawline. He nipped at your ear.

“That’s right, baby.” He purred before he thrusted you forward on all fours.

He lined his dick up with your slippery pussy and entered you with a sweet push forward until he bottomed out. He plummeted into you, spanking you occasionally while his hips slammed into you.

“My God, Joe.” You moaned pushing back into him so he can get inside you as deep as possible.

“Yeah, scream my name so all Fox Company can hear.”

He had a vice grip on your waist, guiding you back everytime his hips came forward. The slams of his front against your ass grew steadily louder with groans and grunts between the two of you.

His stride began to stagger, and you could feel him pulsate inside you.

“I’m getting close, sweetheart.” You hear his low rugged voice from behind you.

“Me too, Joe.”

“I know, I can feel you squeezing on me. Let go, baby.” He hummed.

He reached around finding your clit and began rubbing hard circles onto the bud.

You close your eyes and focus on the sensation of where his hands were and the throbbing of his cock inside you then hearing his voice roar,

“Come on, baby, let go for me.”

He chased your orgasm until he felt your walls fluttering around his cock. You throw your head back practically howling as ropes of Joe’s cum released over and over again inside you. A guttural grunt left Joe’s lips as he groped your ass to have something to hold onto to steady himself.

Sweat glistened on his chiseled torso while he caught his breath. He snatched the hand towel by the basin next to the bed to clean you up after he pulled out. He plopped onto the bed next to you, pulling you into him to hold you.

You each sigh, content and relaxed in eachother’s afterglow.

“Your little bunny friend is going to be heart broken.” You joke.

Joe chuckled, “Yeah, I have that effect on people.”

You giggled.

“I got my girl right here.” He added.

Joe looked down adoringly at you with your head on his shoulder, sensing his eyes were on you, you look up at him. He gently kissed your lips, then rubbed his nose on the tip of yours.

~~~~~~~

[sergeant-spoons]

Fool For Love

Pairing: George Luz x Female OC

Word count: 5144

Tone: Friends to lovers, pining, angst, late-night phone calls, risky decisions, is it too late?

Summary: She’s more than a little tired at work, but then he comes on the line, after all this time, and she can’t hang up. They get to talking about their days in the war and upcoming reunions, and as it becomes increasingly clear she is hiding from him (and everyone), he resolves to bring her back to them as best he knows how—with his unerring love.

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world​​​ @thoughpoppiesblow​​​ @victoryrollsandredlips​​​ @now-im-a-belieber​​​ @50svibes​​​ @mgdln97​​​​​ @tina1938​​​ @drinkwhiskeyandsmile​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​ @indecisiveimpatience​​​ @whovian45810​​​ @brokennerdalert​​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​​ @onlyyouexisthere​​​​

I originally wrote this with Nixon but found it worked much better with George; I was also inspired to write more of George and Talbert’s friendship by the scene in “Points” where they play cards and George’s soothes Tab’s unease. This is also partially a fix-it fic, I must admit, because Talbert all but disappeared from Easy post-war. In this fic, he sticks around.

"Yes, that's exactly it."

George peered down the hall, spying the phone that was usually latched neatly over the kitchen counter now placed to Talbert's ear. His friend nodded slowly, listening to the speaker on the other end.

"Right, you're... busy." 

A muffled something from the other end that might have been 'got to run' or 'give him my love', George couldn't quite tell. Tab swiveled, shuffling over the threshold into the hall. He peered one way, missing the eavesdropper, then spotted him down the other. Waving George over, he pressed the phone to his shoulder.

"Somebody from Easy's on the line. Come say 'hi'."

George grinned. It would be good to hear from one of the guys. The annual reunion was swiftly approaching, and the time of year had rolled about when he really missed the men and the camaraderie they had shared. Sloughing off his jacket, he draped it over the countertop stools as he came up to the phone. Tab held up a finger as he fronted an introduction.

"Yeah, hey, do you have another minute?" A beat, listening. "Great. I've got somebody here who wants to speak to you." A half-smile. "Yes, it's George. Uh-huh. Okay. Talk soon."

"Heya."

Silence for a beat and George had made up his mind to repeat the greeting when:

"Hey, George."

His heart leaped into his throat, and he smoothed his palm over the receiver, swallowing hard.

"Leah." He pinched his nose. "Uh, Corporal Hedgecomb."

"Hey. Hey, how are you?"

"Good." Better now that I'm hearing your voice again. 

Had she always sounded this weary? For most of the war, yes, he remembered well, but he would have thought peacetime would restore her spirits and vigor. He missed the lightheartedness she'd born all throughout Toccoa and Aldbourne, despite Sobel, despite the war, despite the back-breaking sexism she had to carry on top of it all every damn day.

"Look, George, I'd love to chat, but I'm real busy-"

"Please don't go."

He could almost picture her pursing her lips, those sweet lips, the ones he should have kissed so long ago.

"Oh, alright." 

She leaned away from the receiver and called to someone nearby, her voice distant as she pleaded with an apparent coworker to take up her station for another few minutes. 

"I can stay a little longer."

"Good. Great." He searched for something to say that wouldn't scare her away. Realizing too late he hadn't returned the cordial question, he extended it now: "How're you, Corporal?"

"Busy," she said, and it seemed almost a joke but for the strain present in her voice when she answered. "It's not bad, though, work keeps me occupied."

He smiled fondly down at his shoes. "You haven't changed, then."

"What do you mean?"

"You said that a lot back in, uh, Mourmelon, and Hemmen."

"Did I? It seems like so long ago."

"But not long enough."

They both knew he meant the absence of war, not the distance its end put between them.

"Hear-hear. Oh, and George—you don't need to call me ‘Corporal’. We're not in the service anymore."

"Ah. Right."

A few seconds as George considered whether or not to just be out with it already or mention something less monumental. On one hand, he was running out of time, on the other, he could mess this all up with three little words and listen to the phone click off, his ardor dismissing him from her cares.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?" Leah asked, soothing the tension steadily rising like a high tide up to their chests and their hearts. 

"It's good to hear your voice."

"Yeah, yours, too."

He glanced at a split envelope on the counter and gathered a question he hadn't realized was burning him up until that very instant. 

"About the reunion...?"

"Yeah, yeah. I got your letter, and the one from Sink, with the fancy seal and the flag stamp and the big, official heading-"

"You're not coming."

A long, long pause, broken only by a sigh that barely bled through the wiring.

"Yeah."

"That's not really an answer, Leah."

"No, I'm not coming."

"Why not?"

"I- it just doesn't- it wouldn't work out."

George squared his jaw, scared she was implying what he feared she always might.

"I mean, business really kicks up around here this time of the year, and I don't know if they can spare me. Not that I'm vital to the department, or anything, but any personnel they can keep will help."

"Uh-huh." 

At her slow sigh, he gathered she'd easily picked up on his skepticism.

"What's the real reason, Leah?"

She didn't answer for a good fifteen seconds. George attended his watch to distract himself from the weight of her silence.

"George, I'm sorry, but d'you really think any of the fellas wanna remember they served with a broad? No."

"What? That's bullshit! Why the hell would you think that?"

"Watch your mouth, buster, you're a bad influence."

"What?"

"If you go off like that, I'll do it, too, and I can't be swearing like a sailor anymore. I've gotta be all proper in the office."

"What about out of it?"

"Since when am I ever not at work, these days?" She scoffed wryly, drily. "Nevermind."

"Corporal Hedgecomb, I swear to God, if I have to send Bill Guarnere and Babe Heffron to kidnap you from whatever martyr's pit you've dug for yourself, I will."

She managed a chuckle, and he could tell it was more for his sake than her own. "Nah, no more foxholes for me. Or for you."

"Or Bill or Babe."

"Don't send them," she warned. "They've got families of their own, right? Kiddos to tend to and others on the way, not to mention their wives, the lovely ladies with enough smarts to handle the three brain cells those two split amongst themselves."

George snorted. "So, no envoys. Alright, I'll drive up there myself and take Perconte with me. God knows he could use the break. Can you believe he doesn't even get Christmas off?"

"No!" 

"I know, right? It's the post office, not the goddamn army-"

"No, no, it's not..." Leah audibly cleared her throat. "I meant about you, um..."

"Oh."

"What I mean to say is it's alright. I don't need the persuasion in person."

"Without it, you won't come to the reunion."

"With it, I'm more likely to stay put. So we're at an impasse."

"Alright, fine, but still, you never answered my question."

"Your question?"

"Why the heck-" He hoped she was smiling. "-would you think the men wouldn't want to remember you?"

"... If I was a man, it'd be different."

"Yeah, no shit, but I just don't get it, Leah. You were everybody's sister, cousin—heck, mother. Without you, Jackson wouldn't still have his face and Hoobler would be missing a whole lot more than a foot."

"But-"

"No. You really should come, doll, you haven't been to the last two."

"And nobody but Lip's seemed to care," she blurted in a voice small even for her five-foot-one frame. "Ignore that, please."

"No, I definitely will not." George glowered at the begonias in the calendar that hung opposite the kitchen counter. "Whoever told you I didn't care is a lying sonuva-"

"George."

It was by her tone that he abruptly understood: no one had imposed this opinion on her, she had conjured it for herself.

His cheeks flamed, akin to his heart. "Goddamnit, Leah, the only people I care as much about as you are Tab and Lip, and you know with them, it's not- it's not the same."

He knew he'd said too much when she didn't try a joke or a chuckle or even a dismissive cough. Instead, she remained silent. A muted voice, another woman's, asked her something and she replied she'd be there in a minute. Her voice returned to him as she brought it back to the receiver.

"I know you tried to find me, once."

George tried and failed to steady his breathing. He hoped Leah couldn't hear just how anxious he'd become.

"How'd you figure that out?"

"You sent Lipton to my door with the biggest bouquet in the state of New York. Now, I've never seen a man more committed to his wife than the good lieutenant, and he doesn't even live up here. What the hell could he be doing so far north other than carrying out some favor for somebody we both knew?"

"And you figured it was me?"

"I didn't have to think too hard on it once I saw the flowers."

"You remember them?"

"They were lilacs, George," she all but whispered. "You're the only one I ever told about those being my favorite."

George sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, his shoulders stiffening as the breeze against the roof of his mouth went straight to his brain.

"Lip told me you'd just about vanished."

"I wasn't home that day."

A frown creased his brow. "But you saw the flowers."

"A neighbor did, out the window-"

"Don't lie to me, Leah." He set his jaw, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "You never were a good liar."

"Fine! I was there and I didn't open the door. Happy?"

"You hid from him."

The accusation caused her to deflate, signifying its truth. He could sense the change even from the receiving end, her face invisible to his eyes, miles and miles away.

"I thought it was for the best-"

Feeling unable to endure another voice crack from the cage of weary isolation Leah had forced herself into, George interrupted. 

"The best? For who?"

"For you!"

"But not for you."

She choked on her words and coughed to regain them. 

"I'm not some pretty little housewife, George!” she cried. “The war was the only time in my life I felt reasonably put together, and like I could do something. Even better, something worth doing. Really, I don't know what I expected, after it was all over. I can hardly keep myself afloat, nevertheless- no, shit, no, pretend you didn't hear that."

"So that's it." His finger, twirling the spiraling cord around each knuckle, stilled. "You won't come because you don't want their pity."

"Or yours," she reminded with a sternness he knew she rarely possessed. "I want them to remember me better."

"If they can't see you're still our beloved-" My beloved. "-Leah, with a chocolate bar always at hand for some poor homesick sap and the best hugs in the company, then they've all gone crazy and they don't deserve the honor of knowing you."

"The honor?" She scoffed. "Come on, George."

"I mean it. They'll be glad—no, overjoyed—to see you, and if they're not, then- then I'll-"

"What am I supposed to do, pretend everything's fine? While they're off getting married and having families and buying houses and securing steady, profitable occupations, I'm wasting away in the middle of fuck-all nowhere, so far up New York state, you'd be surprised it wasn't Canada, trying not to end up on the streets and so bitterly alone I've started writing poetry! I’m writing sonnets, George, sonnets!”

Leah laughed a sob. George was already reaching for his car keys.

"I'll be there tonight."

"What?"

"I will be there-"

"No. No, you won't."

"Yes, I will. I don't care if it's a five-and-a-half-hour drive. I don't care if you're scared. I don't care if I'm the last person you want to see."

Silence for long enough he guessed she might have hung up. He'd begun to fiddle with the left cuff of his button-down when Leah finally spoke.

"You know how long it would take you to get here."

"What kind of enamored moron would I be if I didn't?"

She laughed, and George wished he could believe it was the call signal that made her sound so hopeless.

"Only if you bring Tab along with you," she said, and he got the sense she was only playing along. "Roll down the windows, the fresh air'll do him good."

"It's December. He'd rather sit in a sauna for five hours."

"Remind me why he still hasn't moved out to California yet?"

"Me," George joked half honestly. "But hey, you're getting me sidetracked. So I'll bring Tab... anything else you want me to pick up on the road?"

"Um." A pause, amid which he could guess she tried to swallow but found her throat too dry. "No."

"If you say so." He checked his watch again, something of a nervous habit. "Y'know, I could probably make it in five hours. The traffic's bound to be lighter the later it gets."

"Uh-huh. You might have to wake me, depending on how late you get here."

"You won't wait up?"

"I work three shifts for two different jobs, George. Sleep is a blessing."

"Right." He swallowed. "Well, you can call in sick tomorrow. To both jobs. And maybe for all the days after that."

"No. No, I can't do that."

"You don't think I'll actually come."

"No, I don't, because I'm really not worth the trip."

Her words sounded like a hammer falling upon a bare anvil, the elements rebounding off of each other with a deafening, heartwrenching clang.

"Leah?"

"Yeah?"

"There's one thing I won't stand from you, and it's that kind of bullshit."

"Wha- what?"

"Don't ever talk like that about my future Mrs. Luz again."

She inhaled sharply into the phone. George squeezed his wrist and prayed that what he was about to do wasn't the most reckless undertaking of his life.

"I'll see you tonight. Probably with a ring. No, not probably. Definitely."

Leah squeaked.

"Damnit, I love you, and I'm not about to stand here while your neverending, wonderful, harmful selflessness keeps you away from the great thing we could be. And from your friends! And happiness! But mostly me. Because I'm selfish like that. But hey, if it means saving you-"

He squeezed his eyes shut, his heart pounding against his ribcage.

"-then I'll be the most selfish man in the world."

"George-"

"I love you. See you in five hours."

He shoved the phone so jaggedly into its cusp that he missed the latch entirely and the implement took a bungee jump toward the kitchen floor. Yelping a curse, he swung it back up and placed it where it belonged, stepping back from the counter with a long sigh. He glanced at the liquor cabinet above the sink in wistfulness but didn't bother to address it further. He'd drive better if he could see straight. Still, the thought of going to her like he'd wanted to all these months and the absurdity of what he was about to do combined were more than enough to make him dizzy. Tab might have to take over for the last of the journey—or, even better, the first, the middle, and the last.

Speaking of the devil's best friend, he'd vanished upstairs to the third-floor study. He never listened in when someone made phone calls like this, even if they were from his own line. Kind of funny, how George wouldn't think twice about eavesdropping whereas Tab went out of his way to avoid overhearing.

"Floyd! Floyd, get down here!"

Swift, steady footsteps, barely preceded by the scrambling scuffs of a chair being shoved backward.

"What is it?" queried his friend from the top of the stairs.

"No time to explain, just get down here!"

Tab proceeded to make his way speedily down, taking the steps two at a time. He followed George around the corner to the garage door, calling his name with another question mark to follow when he received no direct answer. George spun the car keys around so they pressed into his palm, feeling the metal indent his skin as he opened and pushed through the narrow aperture.

"I'm going to go bring my future home, and you're coming with me."

Tab's sigh was almost feigned as he reached back through the doorway to retrieve his coat as well as his friend's. "George, it's almost seven p.m. And I have work tomorrow, as do you."

"So? Love won't wait, my friend." He twirled the keys again and tossed them over the hood of the first of the three vehicles before them. "Besides, you get to drive."

Tab shook his head. "I get to?"

George flashed him a lopsided smile and slid into the passenger's seat. After a beat's more hesitation, his friend followed his prediction and joined him in the car. Tab turned the ignition and they each settled into their accommodations, preparing for the lengthy drive ahead. The garage door rumbled upward—only the most up-to-date technology for friends of the Nixons—and they pulled out into the fading light, the wet afternoon bleeding into a thankfully drier evening.

"How much did you have to drink before deciding on this mad chase?" Tab asked as he leaned over the backseat to watch where he was reversing.

"None."

"None?"

"None," George repeated, and whatever he'd mustered in his tone to guarantee the truth softened something in Tab's tired eyes. His friend sat up a little straighter, and the energy so often sapped from him by hours clerking behind a desk began to return in increments as they drove. At first, they spoke of the usual things; the clearing clouds, an unruly driver here and there, the meaning of life and what changes peace had brought to their world in the past three years.

"Three," George mused after a time, "isn't that a strange number to decide on a reunion? One, I understand for a high school, two for a college, but three doesn't fit anything. A birthday, maybe, but-"

"It's one for me," Tab reminded him with no shortage of gentle reprehension. "I skipped the last two."

"So did she. But she won't be skipping this time, and neither will you."

"... Yeah. About that—what's your plan, here?"

"With what?"

Tab glanced off the road for just an instant to shoot George that disbelieving eyebrow that had always been able to pry any damn thing out of him, all the way back to Toccoa.

"I know, I know, with Leah." George swallowed. "Leah Hedgecomb."

"Yeah, with Leah."

George waved his hand in front of his face as if reading aloud a banner. "Hopefully the future Mrs. Leah Lowry Hedgecomb Luz." He couldn't help a small smile. "Has a nice ring to it, doesn't it?" He snapped, remembering something vital to his mission. "Oh, shit, right, I've gotta get a- Why are you looking at me like that?"

Tab's spine had gone so taut, it almost seemed to be imitating the straightness of the lampposts they were driving beneath on this long, northbound route. The light from each lamp faded into and back out of the car within a half-second. Once the darkness of the night truly settled it, they would seem ever the brighter and the quicker, keeping the men awake and alert but allowing them no more than a passing glance at each other's expressions.

"Does she know that?"

"Know what?"

"That you're gunning for her to be your wife?"

"As of, uh-" George studied his wristwatch. "-an hour and ten minutes ago, yes."

"Jesus Christ."

His daredevil friend gave a low whistle. "Well, now I know this is a crazy plan. What else could make the pious Floyd Talbert take the savior's name in vain?"

"Oh, come on, Luz. Me? Pious?"

George snickered, and Tab sighed.

"Look, I'm sorry, but you gotta admit this is nuts! You're in love with a woman you haven't seen in a year—a woman who's been purposefully avoiding you, I might add."

"She loves me, too."

"What?"

"She told me back in Austria the day she left." George thumbed his belt loops anxiously. "She told me she loved me and I oughta come find her after the war if I felt the same."

"And you did, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but we never spoke of it again." George licked his lips, then confessed, "I have to believe she meant it. It's all I've got, Floyd."

"You need to stop for a minute and think this through."

"And you," his determined compatriot contested, "need to shut up and turn left."

"Why?" Tab asked, nonetheless rounding the requested corner.

"Because we need to make a detour to Cartier before they close at eight-thirty, and right now, it's eight-o'-one."

"Woah, woah, woah." 

Tab pulled over to the side of the otherwise empty street. He shifted the car into park and turned as fully as he could in his seat toward George. 

"Are you serious about this?"

"Floyd," George replied softly, almost timidly, "this is the first time I haven't second-guessed myself in three years. Yes, I'm serious."

His friend considered, glancing out the windshield onto the pavement and gravel of the road and its side.

"Besides, this is partially your fault."

"What?"

"You know I've loved her since Benning."

Tab's brow twitched. "Well, yes..."

"And you put me on the phone with her just like that, like you knew it was the best thing for us both."

"Um..."

"Come on, Floyd," George pleaded, flashing a smile, "help me out just this once-"

Tab visibly stifled a snort of laughter.

"-and you can be the best man—nay, the officiant—at our wedding."

"Sometimes, I think you've finally gone mad." Tab smiled as he shifted the car back into drive. "Alright. Let's go get the ring, and then the girl."

George let out a whoop, tossing his hands up and smacking them on the ceiling. He winced, shaking out his fingers, though his grin never faltered.

"By the way, I meant it, about the wedding."

"I'm not ordained."

"So? I don't particularly care what denomination ya are, so long as you can marry us."

"... I don't know if that's legal, Luz."

"What, freedom of religion?" His friend shot him a skeptical look. "So sayeth the Quaker's best friend."

"What- George, he's not-" 

Tab huffed and went quiet, giving in (and up).

"I'll look it up and figure it out when we get back," he relented. "Dick probably knows something or somebody..."

George smirked, turning his face toward the window to hide the true warmth of his enthusiasm. 

"Yeah. He prob'ly does."

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

Leah meant to stay up, to wait. She knew she'd feel like the worst idiot in the world should morning come and she was still sitting in her dark living room, alone; nevertheless, she allowed herself hope and trust for the first time in many years. She tried to keep her eyes open, but seeing the toll of midnight after a sixteen-hour shift proved a difficult task, and she drifted off in her old, raggedy armchair with a blanket over her legs and one shoe half-off her foot.

When the rapping on her door startled her awake, it was precisely 12:46 a.m. When she stepped up to the door, it was 12:50. When she gathered up enough courage to actually turn the knob and pull, it was 12:52.

"-so let's just go and come back in the morning, she's clearly not-"

The two men standing under her porch light, their heads and shoulders dusted with snow, froze and stared at her. Talbert's hand dropped from the back of his neck. George looked like he was trying to convince himself she was more than a memory.

"... home."

"George?"

He stumbled forward and she couldn't help but lurch into his embrace.

"What- what are you doing here?!" she gasped, wide awake now that he was really here with her, his arms sending shockwaves up and down her body. "George, you drove all this way?"

"I drove," Tab suggested sheepishly, raising his hand in a sheepish wave, and Leah forced herself to let go of George to hug him.

"I didn't believe- You actually- How? Why?"

"He loves you," Tab chuckled, nodding at George. "Thought that was pretty clear by now. You mind if I come in? I thought it couldn't get any colder than Rhode Island, but sheesh, New York's something else..."

Leah started nodding without really understanding what he'd asked, and he started humming “White Christmas” as he stepped past her and into the semi-heated house. Left alone on the porch, George and Leah stared at each other for a beat. Once they'd remembered the other was truly here, they all but leaped back into each other's arms. Leah's chest felt tight. She heaved each exhalation into his shoulder like it just might be her last. How long ago was it that such a fear could become their reality at the drop of a hairpin, or, in their case, the flick of a grenade pin? Too recent, too fresh.

"Hey, hey, catch your breath," George said, stepping back to cup her cheeks in his hands, scanning her face worriedly. "You cold? You want my scarf? My coat? My sweater? Hell, I'll give you my socks, if you want, though I don't think you do-"

"You came."

"Of course, I came," he cut himself off. "I brought Tab, just like I promised, and a ring to boot."

Leah flushed. "You didn't."

George dropped down on one knee.

"I did."

Leah squeaked. George beamed to hide the terrific pounding of his heart.

"Leah? Sweetheart?"

"Uh-huh?"

"Marry me."

She couldn't seem to speak, but she was nodding so fast George could only take it to mean yes. He put the ring on her finger, and she promptly flung herself into his arms and knocked them both off the porch into the nearest snowbank. George burst into such laughter that it woke the neighbors.

"Screw them," he muttered as the complaining started from an upstairs window. "I'm not afraid of nobody and nothing anymore."

"Oh, yeah?" Leah giggled, still half-certain she was dreaming, shivering a little. "When'd you get so brave?"

George smiled, drawing his thumb tenderly across her cheek to brush away a wispy curl.

"When I got you."

A beat.

"You will marry me, right?"

Leah turned and kissed his cheek, then his lips, and George felt like he could take on the world.

"I love you," she whispered, "and I've waited six years for you to ask me that question, so yes, George Luz, yes, I will marry you."

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

"You drove how far to get to her?"

Leah and George shared an amused smile. No matter how many times they told this story, there was always someone who'd only heard snippets and couldn't quite believe it until they got the straight facts from the source itself. This time—most entertainingly—it was Speirs, their former captain. The humor of his confusion was only added to by Lipton, who was standing beside him with such an expression of This is the farthest thing from a surprise, Ronald that it made Leah stifle a laugh against her hand.

"As far as I had to," George answered Speirs, squeezing Leah's hip affectionately. "I'd have driven all the way to California if I had to. Up through Canada, down into Mexico, or all the way into South America—I'd go anywhere. I'd even sneak aboard a ship if she was somewhere overseas."

"So... how far?"

"Five hours," Leah chuckled. "Five hours and them some, 'cause he had to stop to get the ring."

"And I was the one behind the wheel," Tab reminded with a twinkle in his eye, and George lit up, delighted that he'd made it to the reunion after all.

"And you still get to officiate, Floyd!"

"Yeah, yeah. Just tell me when I'm needed, and I'll be there."

"Huh." Speirs paused to think, then took a sip from his whiskey glass. "I'll admit, I never pictured..." He waved at George and Leah, though not at all rudely. "This."

George's arm was slung around Leah's waist and her cardigan was tied just above his hips—the only thing more obviously signifying their relationship was the silver band gleaming on Leah's left hand. Leah pressed a kiss to George's cheek, and as Speirs shook his head, astonished, George let loose a delirious peal of laughter.

"Stop that," Leah giggled, ruffling his hair. "You sound like you're already drunk."

"Oh, honey, I am."

She quirked a brow. "Oh, yeah? Since when? You’ve only had one- oop!"

He'd dipped her toward the floor, his lips ghosting over hers, and when she realized she was not, in fact, falling, she smiled.

"Drunk off you, sweetheart," he whispered as their friends started to holler, noticing the couple's open display of affection.

"Then kiss me, Mr. Luz."

"Happily, Mrs. Luz."

"Wait-" She put her finger against his lips, teasing him. "I'm not the missus just yet."

He groaned. "Why must you remind me? Cruel woman..."

A slight shift in his stance let Leah know he was starting to strain himself by holding her there, so she grabbed him by the collar and pressed a searing kiss to his lips, bolstered by their friends' whistling and cheering.

"I don't think I can wait much longer," George admitted as he brought his fiancée back up to stand. "Literally and figuratively. What with you in that dress, and everybody here—heck, why don't we do it tonight?"

"Do it? Get married, you mean?"

"Get married, run away, honeymoon, hook the moon and drag it down to earth," George hummed, swaying her to an imaginary tune. "You name it, I'll make it happen, sweetheart."

Leah looked at him, and her eyes, brimming with tears of gratitude, struck him with so much love he felt faint.

"So? Whaddaya say, my dearest Leah?"

"Yes. Tonight!"

"Huzzah!" George leaned over his shoulder. "Floyd! It would seem your services are needed much sooner than planned!"

Tab looked up from the buffet table, a slice of chocolate cake halfway to his mouth. George and Leah shared a look, then burst into teary laughter, holding on to each other with no intent to ever let go.

"I think they're really gonna do it."

"About time." Dick Winters sidled up to his friend, then nodded at the cake in his hand. "Is that any good?"

Still watching George and Leah, Tab wordlessly passed the cake to Dick, who, in turn, Dick handed it off to a salivating Frank Perconte.

"Dick," Tab queried, "do you know how to officiate an elopement?"

"Not officially-"

"Didn't think so."

"-but I know a guy."

"Of course, you do."

They eyed the happy couple, now dancing to the music Lipton had conjured from the radio, and shared a small smile despite themselves.

"Think you could get him here within the next half-hour?"

Dick checked his watch.

"Uh..."

"Correction: think you could call him up and have him teach me this whole honorary pastor business on the fly?"

Smiling, Dick started for the payphone on the other end of the bar.

"Now that, I can do."

[luminouslywriting]

Bob headcannon being closed in a cabinet with them and ur both getting hot

Hello!! So sorry this has taken FOREVER!! I got promoted at work and have been working more haha! Thats the reason for my inactivity and I’m sorry :( but hopefully I’ll be able to get out a few requests this week! Happy 4th of July to everyone who celebrates! Cut for length, paragraph form, spice obviously included:

Dick Winters: Does it come as a surprise to anyone that this man is bashful about the entire thing? Like he’s very acutely aware of his own mortality at the moment but he’s not going to act on anything and put himself in a situation where he’s making decisions for the both of you. Bestie, you’re gonna have to make the first move.

Lewis Nixon: I can’t explain why but it’s giving thirteen year old boy at his first boy-girl party. This man is thrilled about the situation and definitely cracks a few jokes about the situation before making a move. It’s a hurried and in the dark makeout session that ends in rumpled clothing and swollen lips for sure. And he’s smug as a bug when he gets out of there too.

Ronald Speirs: Incredibly pleased about the entire situation anyway and is definitely going to make the most of the moment. He's unabashedly getting real (consensually) handsy in that closet with you. And this may or may not become a regular thing between the two of you.

Buck Compton: Only slightly bashful? He didn't mean to end up in this situation and he only feels slightly bad about getting hot in the circumstances. But if the two of you start making out, this man is NOT complaining and is going to probably assume you two are together after that.

Carwood Lipton: A bashful mess of a man who's just trying to get out of this situation as quickly as possible as he apologizes to you because it's such a small space and surely you're aware of his problem now. After being in said space though....if you kiss him, he's definitely emboldened and ready to be with you haha.

Joe Liebgott: All too pleased to be in the situation to begin with. He's probably getting into some dirty talk and acting as though YOU'RE the one who set the entire thing up. Get a little handsy and he becomes a whimpering mess of swears and heavy breathing though haha.

Donald Malarkey: Unassuming and also kinda bashful? He just doesn't want things to get weird between the two of you but he also can't stop talking and so if you shut him up with a kiss, I guarantee he'll simp for you forever.

Eugene Roe: Mumbling to himself about how this is NOT how he thought today was going to go. Also delightfully embarrassed about the fact that he's getting turned on at a moment like this with you. But also...he just shoots his shot? And if he so happens to show you just how talented he is with his hands, it's a win-win situation haha.

Bill Guarnere: Grumbling about how he's gonna kill whoever locked the two of you in here. But the minute he shuts up and actually pays attention to the non-verbal cues, he's in heaven with the way you two are caressing one another and just having a drop-dead amazing makeout sesh.

Joe Toye: Annoyed af at himself and at the situation. Might be a little rude at first, but only because he's just really trying to keep his thoughts to himself and his desires. Get handsy and let him know it's okay to touch you too—he'll be like a kid in a candy store haha.

George Luz: The two of you are hiding for pulling a prank and naturally, you choose the bahamas of hiding places (iykyk). And what starts as you two trying to be quiet then turns into trying to REALLY keep quiet as the two of you are pleasuring one another and trying not to get caught.

[malarkgirlypop]

He's the Boss Part 1(Bull Randleman x F!Reader)

Guys I don't know how I feel about this. Ah! There is a second part, yay, but let me if this one is good. If it's not I can write another one. IDK ahh having imposter syndrome. I feel like it's not good, which makes me sad. I was so excited for the story. I feel bad if it's trash cause I hyped it up. Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to the people involved.

I stifle my laughter seeing Perconte’s small figure clinging onto the back of Bull. Poor Perco got shot in the ass, and George owed me a fiver. I made my way over to the radio-man already grinning at him. He rolled his eyes knowing what I was smiling about. 

“I’m not making any more bets with you Y/N!” He huffed, coughing up the cash. I pocketed it with a chuckle. 

“You say that every time Luz!” I told him. 

“What can I say, I'm a gambling man.” He grinned at me, as I gave him a playful elbow. He slapped me on the back as we walked to the house we made our base. We were all weary from the long stay in Bastogne, it was one of the hardest stints I’ve had in the paratroopers. We lost a lot of good men. However there was some relief, we had finally taken Foy. Which was one of the attacks we had been dreading for a while. I think we were all ready for a break but it wasn’t to be, ordered to go forth and take more towns that the Germans occupied. But for tonight we finally had a roof over our head and some proper shelter from the freezing cold. 

We made our way into the house, the men quickly claiming their spots on the floor with their gear. Luz fortunately was thoughtful enough to save me a spot beside him. 

“How’s your ass Perco?” I asked as we stepped over the man who was lying on the floor being tended to by Gene. 

“Never had any complaints!” He retorted quickly, sending Luz and I into hysterics. Bull rested next to him, keeping him company. I straighten. “Sir.” I said, clearing my throat. He glanced at me unamused at my antics. 

The Sergeant had never liked me. I’m not sure why, maybe because I mucked around with Luz all the time. I was serious when I needed to be but more often than not I was getting into mischief. Bull had never said anything to me or scolded me. But his disappointed stare was all he needed to send in my direction to send me running with my tail between my legs. He intimidated me. someone that large was intimidating, he didn’t have to say a thing. 

“Give me your smokes, Y/N.” George nudged me as we got comfy on the floor. 

“No way! People pay good money for these!” I shook my head. I didn’t smoke like everyone else, which meant I could use the packs to my advantage. I would trade and sell them to the other men when they ran out. I had gotten a lot of neat things by trading my packs. But George, who smoked like a chimney, was always bugging me for freebies. 

“Oh come on Y/N!” He pouted. 

“Fine! Fine! You’re a dick you know that.” He grinned happily as I handed him one of the hoarded packs I had in my bag. Picking one out he quickly lit it, puffing away. He offered me the smoke to which I shook my head. 

“Where do you think Bull gets all his Cigars? I mean those aren’t part of the ration packs are they?” I asked, watching the man, he always had a cigar hanging from his lips. It always baffled me where they came from.

“Eh, I don’t know, never thought about it.” George shrugged. 

“George, you don’t think about anything.” I said knocking on his skull proving my point that it was empty up there. 

I watched Bull curiously. He was one of the quieter men in the company. He liked to sit and watch, rather than join in on the shenanigans. But whenever he did speak everyone hung on his every word. Even if it was only one comment it would be the funniest comment of the whole night. That would have everyone keeling over in laughter. He would just grin. When I first met the man I assumed he would be a brute, a man of that stature was surely big and scary. But he was kind and soft spoken in his thick country accent. No one really took too kindly to me though in the beginning, I was a replacement, and a female one at that. They all avoided me, scattered when I walked into a conversation, like I was infectious. After weeks of trying to prove my worth to the original Easy company men, I had befriended George. Well I say befriend, he says bribe. If he talked to me for more than a couple of sentences I would give him some smokes. So at first he would only talk to me to get smokes, but he found that we were similar and had become good friends. Always joking and laughing. He still says he only hangs out with me for the free smokes. But it’s ok I have him trained well. Bull was one of the ones who still hadn’t warmed up to me, I seemed to be able to make friends with the rest of the men. But the tall man was an enigma. If he was so kind and gentle, why did he dislike me so?     

************* 

Gun fire pelted down on our position as we crouched behind a rock wall. Every time I poked my head up to see if the cost was clear the shooting would start again. 

“Goddammit they got us pinned.” I yelled over the noise to the men I hid with. 

We needed to move forward into the town for this attack to be successful. It was currently not going the way we had planned. 

“Shifty!” I called our sharpshooter over to help me. 

“I need you to take out that sniper!” He nodded looking over the wall, only for us to flinch back as the machine gun fired on our position. 

“I can’t, not with him firing at us like this!” I sighed, racking my brain for a way we could distract them. 

“You’ve had an idea.” Shifty said, watching my face as if he had seen the mental light bulb go off in my brain. 

“Don’t let him shoot me Shifty!” I said to him, he gave me a curt nod. I shuffled my way to the end of the wall, I took a deep breath. I stood up from my position, sprinting forward. The sniper was on me in seconds, bullets landing close to me, I could feel them whooshing past my face. Anytime now Shifty. I thought as I ran as fast as I could, the sniper barely missing me each time. I looked back over my shoulder to our original position, I could see Shifty but he wasn’t shooting. He motioned to one of the other men for another gun. Oh shit! Not looking where I was going, I stumbled, falling forward onto my hands and knees. Oh fuck! I was now a sitting duck, fun fact it’s easier to hit a still target than a moving one, which right now I currently am. I groaned out in pain as one of the bullets finally hit its target, lodging itself in my arm. 

“Y/N!” I heard booming across the open field. “Get your ass moving!” Bull and his men hunched behind a broken down car. I got to my feet, making my way quickly over to where Bull was. The Sniper was hot on my tail, hitting the ground I had just left behind me. So close, so close! I dove forward, careening into Bull’s open arms. He caught me, but the force at which I flew was stronger than we both expected, as we fell back in a heap on the ground. I panted, my lungs burned from the effort. I sighed in relief at being safe again. I pushed myself off of the man, clearing my throat in an awkward way. 

“Thank you Sarge!” I said straightening myself, and putting my helmet back on my head. 

“What the hell were you thinking private, are you trying to get yourself killed?” Bull yelled angrily at me. My eyes widened. I don’t think I have ever heard him use that tone of voice with anyone. I flushed with embarrassment. 

“I was just a distraction for Shifty.” I replied, my voice slightly shaky. 

“Don’t ever do that again, you hear!” He reprimanded me. I nodded my head, tears welling in my eyes. It was one thing to be told off, but to be scolded by the Sergeant that never raised his voice at anyone, was humiliating. 

“We’re moving out, Y/N you’re with us now!” I didn’t have time to be upset, we were in the middle of an assault, for christ sake. I took a breath, gathering my thoughts. I followed behind Bull’s team of men. 

The assault was a success. I had found Shifty afterwards to ask him what had happened. His gun got jammed, he did eventually get the sniper with someone else's gun. We finally had cleaned up the town and were getting ready for the night. 

“Y/N I heard you were up to no good today. Being told off by Bull.” George grinned at me punching me in the shoulder. 

“OW!” I flinched away holding my arm, George laughed, then realised the tears in my eyes. 

“Oh shit, Y/N are you ok?” He looked concerned, tears spilling down my cheeks. 

“I got shot, I forgot. I had so much adrenaline, I guess I didn’t feel the pain.” We had been so busy, and I was so caught up in my own head about Bull yelling at me I completely forgot I had been injured.  

“You forgot? Medic!” George looked shocked. Gene rushed over quickly, as everyone also looked. It was late in the evening to declare a wound. 

“What happened?” Gene asked, also confused. 

“She got shot and apparently forgot.” George tells the medic. 

“Come on.” Gene moves me to a more private room, away from everyone else. I take off my jacket and top, leaving me in my white t-shirt. I lift the sleeve to expose the wound. I look down at my arm which is covered in dried blood down to my wrist. The bullet hole itself looked red and angry, a perfect circle had been punched into my skin. 

“The bullet is still in there.” Gene said as he assessed the laceration. “I have to get it out, or it could cause infection. It’s going to hurt.” I nodded defeated. I watched him pick up big tweezers, and my stomach dropped. I turned away when he moved towards the wound with the instrument. Not wanting to see him plunge them into my skin. I winced, trying my best not to make any noise. I bite on my lip, trying to remain as still as possible for the medic. I gripped onto my leg, digging my nails into my flesh. My eyes shot open when I felt my hand being taken off my leg and squeezed. To my surprise Bull sat in front of me clasping my hand in his. It caught me so off guard I forgot I was trying to be quiet. 

“AHH.” I yelped as I felt Gene twisted the tweezers in my skin. I gripped onto Bull’s hand tightly. 

“Sorry Y/N, almost there, you’re doing good.” Gene muttered as he concentrated. 

“Breath, Y/N!” Bull ordered, I hadn’t noticed but I was holding my breath as Gene worked. I gulped in air. Bull nodded, reassuring me. My cheeks were wet with my tears. 

“Got it!” I heard the bullet clatter into the metal kidney dish Gene had with him. I sigh with relief, thankful the ordeal was over. He finished the dressing, leaving Bull and I in the room by ourselves. I didn’t speak, feeling awkward. 

“Y/N I wanted to apologise for today.” Bull started, in his low country drawl. It was so smooth and silky, I’m sure if he read me a bedtime story I would be asleep in seconds. 

“I only reacted like that because I was concerned.” I laughed, his brows furrowed with my reaction. 

“You were concerned about me?” I asked unsure if I had heard him correctly. 

“Yes. Why is that so hard to believe?” He asked, genuinely confused. 

“Well, you hate me.” His eyebrows shot up, surprised by my accusation. 

“I don’t hate you. Who told you that?” He leaned forward, resting his elbow on his knees. He looks pissed. 

“No-no one, I just thought.” Saying this out loud to him now makes me feel stupid. 

“You just thought what?” He squints at me, tilting his head for emphasis. 

“You always glare at me.” I defend myself. “And you don’t talk to me.” 

“You avoid me!” He counteracts. “You run away from me.” 

“Well because…” He waits for my answer. 

“I think there has been some miscommunication between us, don’t you think?” I nod. 

“Well Y/N I can tell you now I certainly don’t hate you, in fact I quite like you. You’re good for the men, especially George, someone needs to keep him on a leash.” My mouth falls open, never in a million years would I have expected those words to come from Bull’s mouth. “I think we got off on the wrong foot. I will admit I was weary of you in the beginning. But that was because you were a replacement and the men we have had in the past have not been the best soldiers. You on the other hand, you did good.” I felt my face flush, I wanted to pinch my cheek, surely I was dreaming. Bull’s laughter shocked me, big and booming it filled the small room we sat in. It was rich in tone, just like his voice. I liked his laugh. 

“Don’t look so shocked, darling!” He chuckles, he pulls his gun from the floor, opening the butt of it. From the compartment he pulls his signature cigar, he lights it, inhaling deeply as it glows a cherry red. He blows out the smoke, leaning back in his chair. 

“I think I’ve sent you into shock.” He joked, pulling me from my surprise. 

“I just-I don’t think I have heard you speak so much in one go.” He laughs again, a smile forms on his lips. My heart fluttered, it felt nice to make him laugh. 

************* 

“Y/N get off George, the poor man can’t breathe.” Bull said from behind me, he had walked in on me attacking George, poking him in his sides until he couldn’t breath from laughing. He had been teasing me insistently about Babe having a crush on me. Babe did not have a crush on me. We were friendly and that’s all it was, but George liked to wind me up. I stood up giving Bull a toothy grin as he shook his head, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. 

“Bull, thank god you came, I thought she was about to kill me.” I sent a look to George, it wasn’t a threat but a promise that I would get him again if he wasn’t careful.    

“Look at her, those eyes, she’s a killer I tell you.” George pointed at me. Bull chuckled. 

After I had figured out that Bull in fact did not hate me like I suspected, we turned into close friends. We were polar opposites but we worked well together. I was a chatter-box and he was a listener. But I could get him to say more than any of the other men in the company could. He had the most interesting stories. I would listen intently as he spoke, sometimes getting distracted, just listening to his voice. His velvety rich accent always gave me goosebumps, so I would get him to talk as much as I could just so I could hear him speak. I found that he was just a big teddy bear. Very country boy, raised on manners and good faith. I liked to call him Ferdinand the bull off of the cartoon of the sweet bull who would rather sit and smell flowers than fight. It perfectly encapsulated the Sergeant. He was so gentle in everything he did. I didn’t want to admit it but I had grown quite attached to him, and differently to the other men of Easy. I made all the men laugh all the time, sure it felt good. But when Bull laughed at my jokes, I felt giddy. When he smiled at me my heart fluttered. I have never felt this from anyone. But I was sure it was just because I looked up to him, and not literally. He was my boss so of course I wanted to impress him. 

“Bull, we are going to one of the pub’s tonight are you coming?” I sidled up to the man as he walked. His eyes flick down to look at me, as he puffs on his cigar. I smiled up at him. 

“Sure I will, just because you asked.” I grin, I hold onto his arm giving it a squeeze. 

“Alright, get to your task, Y/N.” He shoos me away with a small smirk. 

“Yes Sir.” He laughs as I salute him walking away. 

“Is he coming?” George asks from behind me, I turn, nodding my head. “See I told you he would come if you asked!” He wiggles his eyebrows. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about?” I scoff mocking offence. 

“Oh please, you two are smitten with each other!” I glare at him, as he stares at me with wide eyes. 

“George you think I’m smitten with everyone, five minutes ago you said that Babe and I had something with each other.” I point out to him as we walk to help with the stock take. 

“But I actually mean it with you and Bull. I have seen the way you two look at each other.” He pouts, fluttering his eyelashes, pretending to be me. I shake my head, shoving him. 

“Ok if it's about how we look at each other, then you and that hershey bar you were eating the other day were totally in love.” I mimic the way he ate the bar, moaning with each bite. 

“You’re not wrong, that hershey bar really rocked my world.” He grinned at me. 

“You’re gross.” But we crack up laughing.   

[balladofthe101st]

Don't worry, there so much crap flying around, you're bound to get dinged sometime. Almost every one of these guys got hit at least once. Except for Ally, he's a two-timer. He landed on broken glass in Normandy, and got peppered by a potato masher. Now, Bull... he got a piece of exploding tank in Holland. Now George Luz here... has never been hit. You're one lucky bastard. Now Leibgott, the skinny little guy? He got pinged in the neck in Holland. And right next to him, the other skinny little guy, that's Popeye. He got shot in his scrawny little butt in Normandy. And, uh, Buck got shot in his rather large butt in Holland. Hey, even First Sergeant Lipton there, he got a couple of pieces of a tank shell burst in Carentan. One chunk in the face, the other chunk nearly took out his nuts.

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

Masterlist

American Horror Story

AU!AHS multi-chapter

War meets Death - Michael Langdon x O/C Female **Currently on pause

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Band of Brothers

Drunken Confessions - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader (1st person POV, male and female) one-shot, fluff

The next day - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader, Drunken Confessions pt 2, one-shot *smut*

Green Dress - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader (1st person POV, female) one-shot *smut*

Pen pal's - Bill Guarnere x F!Reader one-shot, fluff/slight angst

Truth or dare - Joe Toye x F!Reader (1st person POV, female) one-shot

The game continues - Joe Toye x F!Reader, Truth or dare pt 2, (1st person POV, female) one-shot *smut*

That final line - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader one-shot *smut*, fluff & angst

Oil and water - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader (1st person POV, female) requested one-shot *smut*, angst/fluff ending

Body heat - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader (1st person POV, female) requested one-shot, *smut*

In her arms - George Luz x F!Reader requested one-shot, angst/fluff ending

Leverage

New Hope - Eliot x Reader one-shot/drabble

[softspeirs]

all in: ron speirs/OC

Author's Note: This is an excerpt from chapter sixteen of my longfic Barren Soul which you can read in full on AO3! This was the first piece of writing I ever did for Band of Brothers, so I wanted to give it a moment on its own - this fic has been ongoing for four years, and has been a total labor of love. Although this is part of a longfic, I also think this is a good standalone and you don't need much prior knowledge of Ron and Kat to read. I hope you enjoy!

Speirs watches from the treeline as the disaster of an attack carries on. He hates himself for it, but he can’t take his eyes off the slim form of Kat Gray, barricaded against a building, Johnny Martin at her back.

His heart is in his throat, pulse loud in his ears. The little radio chatter — more like screaming at this point — he can hear has fury roiling in his gut.

He can’t get her face out of his mind.

And now he has to watch as Easy gets picked off one by one. Lipton is their only saving grace, and Speirs has to force his mind to focus, to listen for orders and trust that she is going to survive this.

“Speirs!” Winters hollers, his voice angrier than Ron has ever heard it, and it spurs him into action. “Get out there, relieve Dike, and take that attack on in!”

He doesn’t hesitate. He has no thought for the bullets zipping by as he runs, he has no thought for the sounds of screaming around him as he falls to one knee by Lipton, Luz, and Dike.

“Lieutenant, what are we doing?” Lipton asks, bordering on panic.

“I’m taking over.” He replies, and a deep breath later, he’s coming up with a plan.

The battle seems to go in slow motion. His heart pumping, he runs and runs and somehow through all the bullets whizzing about and the steady thump of German artillery, it all goes quiet in his mind.

All he can think about is their objective, and getting everyone out of there. Without this accomplished, they’re sitting ducks, and he refuses to be another bad leader for this company.

By the time it’s over, he’s drenched in sweat, covered in dirt, and has a bullet graze to his left shoulder that he’ll need to get looked at eventually. He barely has time to catch his breath before a sniper takes aim, and his heart goes to his throat as he watches Lipton shove Kat to the ground and near an overturned truck.

Before he can call out any commands, Lipton takes charge and within another minute, Shifty Powers fires another shot, and quiet settles back over the town again.

When the rest of the company filters in, it feels natural to start giving orders to check and clear buildings, and find a suitable place for the CP.

“Speirs.” Sink finds him quickly, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Hell of a job. Goes without saying that promotion is yours.”

Speirs blinks. “Thank you, sir.”

“It’s well earned, son. We’ll deal with bars and stripes after we see what damage was done here. Talk to Winters and Nixon and figure out next moves.”

“Yes, sir.”

He feels a little blindsided, though he supposes he took the rank of captain the second he was called over by Winters to lead the attack. It still feels like it all happened to someone else.

He finds himself searching for Kat in the milling crowd, and is relieved when he spots her calling out to Roe, Spina, and a few other soldiers about getting an aid station up and running. It’ll be a day before the hospital catches up with them, and Speirs just hopes that this is the end of this truly terrible stretch.

Later, after he’s gone over the meager company roster again and again and made himself as useful as he can, Speirs finds Kat in the church. His steps falter when he sees her, leaning half against the pew, half against George Luz, her eyes drooping. It’s clear she’s exhausted.

He’s still wired on adrenaline, a combination of the thrill of taking command and nearly getting himself killed. He needs to do this now, before he loses his nerve.

“Gray,” he calls for her gently, not wanting to startle her. Luz nudges her when she doesn’t respond right away, and she snaps to alertness, looking around wildly. Trying to find another injury, he thinks grimly. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Kat looks wary. He doesn’t blame her. The last time they spoke he was so angry with her he could barely see straight. The only thing he could see in his mind’s eye was the look on Joe Liebgott’s face when he raced into the CP days beforehand, saying that they needed a jeep to get Kat Gray to the aid station.

He heard “during the shelling” and “wounded, unconscious” and nearly felt the world tilt on its axis. Dog and Easy were hit hard in the Bois Jacques and he, morbidly, was getting used to reporting on wounded and KIAs nearly every day, but he never, ever imagined that it could have been her he had to tell someone about.

When he saw her later, alive and well, he couldn’t help but snap at her, even though the last thing he wanted to do was make her feel like he was talking down to her or doubting her abilities. God knows the Battalion would be a lot worse off if not for her and the other medics.

Now, as he tears himself out of his thoughts, they find a quiet alcove, away from prying eyes. Up close he has the opportunity to look at her face and memorize every detail of it, including the new scrapes and bruises that have appeared.

“Sir?” She asks. She looks nervous, and he hates it. He doesn’t want her to be afraid of him.

He forces himself to be steady. Taking a deep breath, he begins with the confession that will either send him sinking or soaring. “I told you I had something I needed to say to you.”

She nods.

Suddenly, he feels lost for words. How does he put into words the way he feels when she’s around him? The way he constantly seeks her out like a beacon? It’s terrifying, so he decides to go with the truth. “You scare me.” He tells her, an admonition and confession all in one.

She blinks, taken aback. “Don’t be ridiculous–”

He can’t help but smile softly, her lack of awareness about how magnetic she can be one of the things that keeps drawing him back in. “You scare me because you’re a distraction, even if I’m not near you. You’ve caught me completely off guard, and it’s infuriating. You have absolutely no regard for your own safety, you continue to throw yourself in front of every goddamn bullet you see…” He stops himself, breathing hard. “You almost died, and I can’t let this war go on without you knowing that I--”

Her hand gentle on the side of his face puts a stop to whatever he was going to say next. Her touch is cool, and his heart stutters. Their faces are mere inches apart, both of them holding fast to the last vestiges of their self control.

Her face twists like she’s going to cry. “No one has ever said anything like that to me in my life.” She whispers, swallowing hard, and Ron feels his heart splinter into pieces at the look on her face. His face falls when he realizes she’s about to cry.

“Stop.” He says firmly but gently, his hand finding her cheek, a mirror of the way she’s touching him. “Look at me.” Her eyes are watery. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“But I want--” She cuts herself off, seeming frustrated. Whether at herself, or the situation, or that she can’t find the words, he’s not sure. But she hasn’t run from him, hasn’t slapped him across the face, so he lets himself feel a bit of hope. “If we were any other people at any other time…”

“I know.” There’s no confession of love, no romantic overtures, but it’s more than he expected. “You have to stay alive.” He whispers.

Feeling emboldened by the way she still hasn’t stopped touching him, her slim hands currently fiddling with the pins on his lapels, he leans into her a little more. His heart still galloping, he forces himself to take two steps back from her. “You should go first.”

She locks her gaze with his one more time, a long moment shared between the two of them. “Get back to your men, Captain.”

“Yes ma’am.” He murmurs. He wants to kiss the smile off her face.

She’s gone like she wasn’t there in the first place, leaving him to sag against the wall at his back. He wipes his hand over his face, shaking his head in disbelief, before forcing himself to return to the person the men need him to be right now.

.

The first few days with Speirs as CO are like a breath of fresh air. They have supplies, they have hot meals, and best of all, they finally have someone in charge that knows what they’re doing.

There’s still a heavy dose of suspicion going around, Kat notices. Whether it’s from all the rumors flying around about Speirs or because they’re still trying to figure him out, she’s not sure.

Her personal biases aside, she knows she’d trust him with her life and the lives of her friends. His actions in Foy speak for themselves, and she knows Lipton, Luz, Martin, and most of the other NCOs think the same.

She’s still struggling to comprehend what happened between the two of them after the assault on Foy. It felt inevitable, but they haven’t spoken about it since, and it’s starting to feel like they never will.

Maybe that’s for the best, she thinks, not naive to the real world consequences of getting involved with a superior officer.

She and Spina are packing up whatever supplies they have left from their makeshift aid station, getting ready to load the trucks that will hopefully take them as far from Foy and Bastogne as humanly possible.

Approaching footsteps have them looking up, and Kat fights the widening of her eyes when she sees Captains Speirs, Winters, and Nixon.

“Evening,” Nixon says when he gets close, coming around to stand on Kat’s other side. “You’re always working.”

“Someone has to.” She fires back, grinning at him when he rolls his eyes.

“We’re almost finished,” Spina says, glancing at the clipboard in his hand. “We’re still low on most supplies, but with the hospital closer than it’s been in months, we can send the worst cases there where they’re better stocked than we are.”

Winters nods. Speirs hasn’t said a word, but Kat feels his eyes on the side of her faze boring a hole into her.

“We’ll probably get orders tomorrow morning,” Winters says, “And we’re hoping to resupply when we get to the next town. Make sure anyone who’s sick knows we’ll have real beds and showers soon.”

Relief floods Kat’s body at the thought of sleeping indoors, and she’s sure it’s showing on her face.

“Don’t spend too long out here.” Winters adds, looking at both of them in turn. “Especially you, Kat. I want you to give that arm a break and get some rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

They leave, with the exception of their new CO, and a look passes over Spina’s face. “I, uh– I’ll head in and make sure we’ve got somewhere to bed for the night.”

Kat and Speirs watch him go, and Kat is shaking her head before he can say anything. “This isn’t a good idea, he’s going to think–”

“I just wanted to check in with you.”

Kat swallows hard, feeling so out of her depth she doesn’t know what to do with herself, but also reveling in having his attention so fully on her. It’s a heady feeling. “We just need to be careful.”

He nods slowly. “Let me see your arm.” He says, gesturing for her to put her hand in his.

It’s this, strangely, that feels like a turning point for Kat. He has never touched her before, not like this, not so caring. She has never let anyone, really, do this for her.

“It’s fine.”

“You keep saying that.”

She holds out her arm, and he takes her hand gently, lifting her sleeve with his other hand until he can see the dirtied bandage underneath. She watches his face, and his jaw ticks when he sees how extensive the damage was.

“We’re out of bandages.” She says, needlessly, because they have been for weeks. “I’ll change it when we get resupplied.”

“How many stitches?”

“No one told me. Haven’t had time to count,” She says lightly.

He meets her eyes, one eyebrow raised. “Been busy?”

“A little.” She shrugs.

This is new. The banter. It’s– it’s the same feeling she had when they talked one on one in Paris, and again, she realizes how young he looks.

“I know we need to talk about… this.” He says, hand still gentle on her arm.

Kat nods slowly. “I don’t really know how.”

He smiles, a small, quick upturn of his lips. “I don’t either.”

“We need to be careful.” Kat looks up at him. “I want–” She stops herself, eyes closing briefly, trying to find the right words. “I have these feelings for you that I shouldn’t have, but I do. And I don’t know what that means or how we do anything about it. I thought it was just me–”

“It’s not just you.” His gruff voice cuts her off. “And the way I feel… Kat, there’s nothing casual about it. Not for me.”

Her heart thuds in her chest, and she doesn’t know how long they stand like that, but an understanding passes between them and without words, it becomes so clear between them.

They could die any day. Either of them. They’re not guaranteed to come home. And if this is the only chance she has to feel some happiness, to feel cared for and to feel those butterflies that up until now she’s only read about… she’s going to take it. She’s going to be careful with her heart, but she’s going to let it lead her this time.

The sparkle in his warm eyes makes it clear he’s going to do the same thing. And the knowledge that she’s the only one getting to see him like this, getting to see this look on his face… it only makes it clearer that she’s making the right decision.

So with two feet, she jumps. All in.

[mads-nixon]

Epiphany Pt. 14: Soon You'll Get Better

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Song Inspo: Soon You'll Get Better: Taylor Swift (feat. The Chicks)

A/N: thanks for being patient with this one, guys! it really hurt me to write this one. this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Word Count: 4.8k

Summary: Easy finally reaches its breaking point, and (y/n) doesn't realize just how low that could be until tragedy strikes.

Warnings: main character death, intense grief, sorry for the pain guys

JANUARY 10, 1945: BOIS JACQUES, BELGIUM: 0900HRS

“Hey Doc,” Skip whispered as Eugene walked by. “Come here!”

Gene crouched just outside the hole, peering down at (y/n) who was silently sleeping in his arms. “Warren, how ya doin’?”

“Doc, (y/n)’s cast is killing her. Do you have anything for the itch?” Skip asked quietly, concern creasing his brows. “She tried to tear it off last night.”

“Casts ain’t supposed to get wet. That’s why it's itchin’ so much,” he replied, adjusting his helmet with a grimace. “I’ll see what I can do. For now, keep her mind off of it the best you can. She really needs to go back to the hospital.”

Skip thanked him with a nod and then he was gone, his form blurring in the snowfall as he walked away. An exaggerated yawn echoed in the air, and George stretched his arms above his head. 

“It’s somehow even colder than before,” he groaned, pulling his coat closer to his body. 

Muck tugged the blanket around (y/n)’s shoulders and sighed, noticing her cradling her cast in her sleep. “Yeah. It always is.”

George caught his eyes. “How’s she doing?”

“Not good, Luz. Last night…” he trailed off, shaking his head. “I’m worried about her. After what happened with Captain Nixon and now this, I don’t know how much more she can take. Her arm isn’t going to get any better if she’s out here trying to pry her cast off.”

“What?” Luz asked, his eyes widening in disbelief. “She tried to pry it off? When?”

“Last night.”

Silence hung in the air as the duo pondered the situation. As much as they wanted (y/n) to be there with them, they knew that she’d be better off at the hospital, healing up properly. 

Skip’s eyes floated to the frozen ground of the foxhole as he spoke sadly. “She needs to go back to the hospital.”

“Yeah,” Luz agreed. “She’s not gonna like it, though.”

The pair quickly became quiet as (y/n) stirred and blinked her eyes open, slowly becoming aware of her surroundings. 

“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Skip greeted from above her as she sat up.

George chimed in with a teasing grin. “We were starting to think you were going to sleep through the whole war.”

Laughter bubbled up from within her, and for a brief moment, the itch in her cast was forgotten. “Well, I can’t have that now, can I? What would you knuckleheads do without me?”

“Have some peace and quiet,” Penkala grumbled, squinting his eyes in the bright morning light. “How’s the wrist today?” 

George and Skip shot him a pointed glare, and (y/n) sighed, looking down at her casted arm. “About the same, but it’s not bothering me right now.”

Wanting to steer clear of the subject, Skip sat up against the frozen dirt wall. “(Y/n), did I ever tell you about how I swam the Niagra River once?”

Alex ran a hand down his face with a groan. “Not this story again!”

“No, you didn’t tell me that,” she grinned, rolling her eyes.

Skip ignored Penkala’s outburst and continued his tale. “It was a bet, so I went ten miles up from the falls and started across. The current was so strong that it must have carried me at least two miles downstream before I got across. But I got across.”

(Y/n) stared at him in disbelief. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Oh, come on,” he defended. “Let me finish the story and then you can complain about how much of an idiot I am. These two have already said enough on the matter.

“I could always say more, Muck,” George chimed, smirking as his voice shook from the shivers that wracked his body.

“Whatever, Luz. Shut up and let me finish,” Skip grumbled. “Now, personally, I didn’t think it was all that stupid, but my mom, my sister, Ruth…they gave me all kinds of hell.”

The woman buried her face into her scarf, the scent…his scent…long gone as she envisioned his story in her mind. “Well, I would’ve, too! It was a stupid thing to do, Skip. Based on what you’ve told me, I bet Ruth was close to throwing you over the falls for doing something like that.”

“Well, luckily she didn’t,” he smiled, his voice softening as he looked down at the ground. “Faye was not happy.”

Seeing her friend so helplessly in love, (Y/n) couldn’t help but smile. 

“Sweet Faye Tanner,” George drawled, winking at him.

Rolling his eyes, Skip kicked at George playfully. “Shut it, George.”

“Well,” Alex perked up. “As I said before…they had a point. You’re an idiot.”

The group broke out into chuckles, their icy breaths filling the foxhole. All of them seemed to get lost in their thoughts and silence hung over them. (Y/n) stared out at the frost-laden forest before them, seeing the carnage left by the constant shelling: splintered and fallen trees, splatters of blood against the white snow, and craters filled with frozen dirt. It all put an unsettled feeling in her stomach that she couldn’t quite shake, as if the world was waiting for the opportune time to flip her life upside down. 

Her worries led her mind back to him. She couldn’t help but miss Lew, even though they’d fought. She also knew deep down that he didn’t mean the hurtful things that he said, but the sting of their argument still lingered. Apologizing was what she wanted to do, but the memory of her own outburst left her feeling embarrassed. (Y/n) sighed softly, vowing to herself that when the time presented itself, she would find a way to apologize and let Nix know that she still cared about him more than anything. For now, she waited, her mind filled with thoughts of the man she missed more than words could express.

“Hey, (y/n),” George called out into the silence. “We want to talk to you about something, but please don’t bite our heads off for it, alright?”

Curiosity coursed through her as she raised an eyebrow. “Okay…this sounds an awful lot like an intervention, guys. What’s going on?”

George nodded toward Muck, whose face wore a nervous expression as he spoke. “We think you should go back to the hospital.”

“What?” she asked, her voice tinged with irritation. “Why? I’m doing fine.”

“(Y/n), we know you’re struggling,” he said gently. “We also know that you’re not gonna get any better if you’re here in the cold with a sopping wet cast.”

As much as she hated to admit it, there was some truth in what Skip was saying. Taking a deep breath, she replied, “Look, I get it, okay? This cast is driving me crazy, but I can’t just leave. I’m not gonna leave you guys here.”

Alex chimed in, his voice filled with concern. “You need to heal. Doc said the same thing earlier.”

Muck raised a brow at him questioningly. “You heard that? I thought you were asleep.”

“I’m always listening,” he shrugged with a smirk. “Anyways, we’re just worried about you, (y/n/n).”

(Y/n) frowned as a mix of stubbornness and helplessness washed over her. She knew they had a point, but the thought of returning to the hospital and being separated from them didn’t sit well with her. 

“I just need a bit more time,” she finally admitted. “I’ll get through it.”

Skip exchanged a worried look with George before he spoke, “We know you’re tough, (y/n), but sometimes the smart move is to take care of yourself. It’s not about abandoning us; it's about coming back a hundred percent.”

She turned her gaze to the ground, battling her inner conflict. “I’ll think about it, alright? Just give me a little more time.”

The trio nodded solemnly, realizing that she wouldn’t go unless forced. They had a decision to make, and Skip knew which one he’d make for Ruth. It was the same one he’d make for (y/n).

1900 HOURS

In the chill of their foxhole, Skip couldn’t shake his worry for (y/n). He got out of the foxhole with an “I’ll be back,” and a grunt as he made his way to one of the only people he knew could get her to see reason. The man breathed into his hands, trying to warm them among the constant pinprick sensation in them. 

He pulled his rosary from his pocket, kissed it gently, and began to pray as he walked. “Please help us, God. Help (y/n) to see reason and get the help she needs. It's hard to see the people you love suffer, and I don’t know what else to do. I know you have the power to do anything, Lord, so please change her mind about this. Thank you for keeping us safe, and please continue to do so if it is your will, Father. Amen.”

When Skip made it to the Captain's measly shelter, he found Winters and Nixon pouring over maps in preparation for the upcoming objective. Hearing the crunch of his footsteps, Dick’s head shot up, and a blue-tinged smile formed on his face.

“Come on in, sergeant. What can I do for you?” he asked, folding the maps and laying them on a nearby table.

Skip returned the grin and walked in, taking his helmet off. “Well, sir, I actually came to speak to Captain Nixon.”

At his words, Lew raised a brow at his uncharacteristic serious expression. “Alright,” he replied, guiding Muck outside the tent for some privacy. “What’s going on?”

Skip hesitated for a moment, then decided to give it to him, straight. “It’s (y/n), sir. She’s been going through hell with that cast. Last night, she tried to take it off herself. I had to stop her, sir. Doc says she should go back to the hospital.” 

Nixon’s brows furrowed in worry. He knew firsthand how stubborn and headstrong (y/n) could be, especially when it came to her own well-being. “She what? Why hasn’t she gone back to the hospital?”

Muck sighed, his breath visible in the air. “She doesn’t want to leave us, sir. You know how she gets.”

Lew clenched his jaw in frustration, his thoughts racing. “Where is she now? Is she okay?”

“She’s calmer now, but it’s still bothering her. It’s the worst at night,” Skip admitted. “We’ve tried to convince her to go back, but she says she’ll think about it. We all know she’s already made up her mind.”

Nodding, Nix’s face was etched with deep worry. He could imagine her struggling by herself, and it made his heart ache. “Alright, I’ll try to get her back to the hospital.”

The sergeant sighed in relief, grateful he was stepping in. “(Y/n) probably won’t be happy about it, but it’s for her own good. I’m worried it might be her breaking point, sir.”

Lew patted his shoulder with a nod, his brows pinched in concern. “Thanks for letting me know, Muck.”

He turned to leave but stopped and faced the Captain again with a deep breath. “Sir, I know this may be out of line, but I heard what was said between you last week. You never know what could happen out here, so don’t leave things unsaid.”

Before Nix could respond, Skip was gone, his figure disappearing into the haze of the snowy landscape. His words seeped into Lew’s mind, and he realized he had to speak to (y/n) immediately and make things right. Either one of them could be killed at any moment, and they were just wasting precious time not speaking to the other. 

Returning to the tent, Nix grabbed his rifle and swung it over his shoulder. “I’ll be back, Dick. There’s something I’ve got to take care of.”

“You mean someone?” replied, a knowing smirk on his face.

Nix shrugged as he exited the tent. “Something like that.”

As he navigated the forest to (y/n)’s foxhole, he couldn’t help but dwell on their argument. He knew he had been harsh to her, even if he didn’t mean what he said. He’d called her ‘useless’ for crying out loud. That alone would hurt anyone, much less someone who’s wounded and trying their best to contribute despite that.

Finally, in the distance, he spotted Skip talking with Malarkey, Luz, and Penkala a little ways from their hole. Skip nodded at him, and led the group farther from the hole, wanting to give them actual privacy this time. Approaching her foxhole, he could barely see her huddled silhouette. She didn’t hear him approach, lost in thought or possibly asleep. 

Lew sat down beside her and gazed at (y/n)’s sleeping form. The harsh cold couldn’t deter him from admiring the woman he loved as she lay there, wrapped in her coat and the warm scarf and gloves he had given her. Her features were softened by the dim light of the forest and the redness of her nose gave her an adorable charm that melted his heart. 

He noticed her cradling her injured arm against her chest, the white of the cast peeking out from under her oversized coat and makeshift sock glove. “(Y/n)?” he called softly, his voice cutting through the stillness of the forest.

She stirred, her eyes slowly opening to meet his gaze. Surprise flickered across her face, and she shifted uncomfortably, wanting to meet his eyes but finding it hard. “Hi. I wanted to apologize…for how I acted the other day and how I’ve been acting. I know you didn’t mean it, but it did hurt, Lew.”

Lew felt his heart soften as he heard her words, a wave of relief washing over him. He knew she wasn’t one to apologize easily, and her willingness to do so meant a lot. “Thank you,” he replied quietly, “and I’m sorry too, for what I said. I love you and would never think you’re useless.”

With the tension lifting between them, their gazes finally locked. “I love you, too. I hate fighting,” she whispered, scanning their surroundings quickly. “I’d much rather do this.”

She snaked her good hand around his neck and pulled him closer, connecting their lips. As (y/n) and Nix’s lips met, the world around them faded into the background, and for that brief moment, it was just the two of them in their own world. No war, no Bastogne, no snow…only them. (Y/n) felt the warmth of Lew’s breath against her skin, and the gentle caress of his hand on her cheek sent warmth coursing through her body that she hadn’t felt for weeks. 

As they pulled away, their breaths were slightly ragged, and the icy wind, which had been nipping at their cheeks, was now replaced with a comforting warmth. A soft, affectionate smile played on his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. She returned the smile, a sense of calm she only got around him washing over her. 

With a gentle, lingering touch, Lew’s hand brushed her cheek, before dropping it to hold her hand again. “I’ve been worried about you, (y/n), and I’m not the only one. The guys are concerned, too.” Nix paused. “I know about the cast.”

“What about it?” she asked innocently.

Nix shook his head. “I know it’s bothering you, sweetheart. You don’t have to hide it. I also heard that you tried to pry it off last night.”

“What a traitor,” (Y/n) playfully scowled as she looked over her shoulder at Skip in the distance. 

“I’m serious, (y/n),” Lew pleaded. “You know you won’t get better here.”

She sighed, looking down at the cast. “I’m not going back to the hospital, Lew. I won’t leave you or the guys. I can’t.”

“We’ll manage. And we’ll still be here when you get back,” Lew said as his fingers brushed her cheek, guiding her face to him once more with a voice full of worry. “Please.”

The sincerity in his voice pierced her heart, and for the first time in days, her wrist didn’t feel like the most significant pain. “I’ll think about it,” she conceded. 

With a quick peck on her temple, he pulled her in for a quick hug, muttering in her ear, “If not for me, do it for Muck. He’s about worried sick about you.”

“He told me I remind him of his sister, Ruth,” (y/n) murmured into his neck.

Pulling away, a smirk quirked Lew’s lips. “Good, because I was starting to worry I had some competition.”

“Whatever,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes with a laugh. The pair stood to their feet and made their way toward the huddled group of men. “What did Skip say to you?”

Lew shrugged, his eyes staying forward. “Just that you were struggling and the guys were worried about you. I guess he thought I could talk some sense into you.”

“Good luck with that,” (y/n) chuckled as they neared the group.

Squeezing her upper arm gently, he peered down at her, his cheeks rosy from the frosty air. “Please think about it, for my sake…or Skip’s if that’s not enough. And be careful, you know I love you,” he whispered.

“I will, and I will. Love you, too,” she smiled, her wrist long forgotten as she was under his warm gaze. “Tell Dick hey for me.”

With a firm nod, he slowly turned and started back toward his tented foxhole. (Y/n) watched him go, her heart feeling lighter than before. Things were okay between them again, and it became one less thing she had to worry about.

A voice called her name, breaking her from her stare, and she turned to see Skip waving her over, a grin plastered on his face. Joining the group, she stood between George and Skip, the former in the middle of a great impression of Lieutenant Dike.

“Ah, 1st Sergeant Lipton,” he imitated. “You organize things here, and I’m gonna go for…help. I need to go polish my oak leaf clusters.”

The group broke out into laughter, and (y/n) raised a brow in confusion. “What?” she asked, unable to keep a goofy grin from her lips.

“(Y/n), you’re not gonna believe what I saw. So, you-know-who comes running up to Lipton. He’s got no helmet, no gear, no nothing, and then he says that.”

“What an idiot,” she laughed, throwing her helmeted head back slightly. “I can’t believe he’s still here.”

Skip wheezed beside her, almost doubling over in laughter. “Complete asshole,” he said between laughs. “That’s really good, George.”

Lip cleared his throat behind George and called out to him and beckoned him over. George bid his goodbye and went to talk to Lip, while (y/n), Skip, Don, and Alex did the same. 

“Goodnight, goodnight all,” Mal remarked, walking toward his foxhole. 

Skip wrapped an arm around (y/n)’s shoulder, calling out to his friends. “Yeah, see ya, Luz, see you Malark.”

The trio started to their foxhole in silence, but it was soon broken by Skip’s teasing voice. “Did your Captain talk some sense into you about going to the hospital?” he asked, squeezing her shoulder playfully.

“My Captain?” she teased. “I’m pretty sure he’s your captain, too, Skip.”

He raised his eyebrows skeptically. “Well, I’m not the one necking the guy.”

She gasped and quickly looked around, praying nobody else heard his comment. “Skip!”

“What?” 

Alex chuckled from beside her as he pulled his beanie down over his ears. “Everyone knows it! None of us would ever turn you in, (y/n). You know that.”

“I know, I know,” she sighed, her feet crunching softly beneath her. “And to answer your question, Skip, I haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“(Y/n), come on. You’re putting yourself at risk of getting hurt again. Aaaand,” he drawled, “If you go now, you might be back in time to celebrate my birthday.”

“I can’t believe it’s a few weeks til the 31st,” she mused, peering up at him. “You’re turning 23, old man. What would you like for your present?”

“You going to the hospital and getting better would be the best birthday gift,” he answered softly, pulling her closer to his side.

The words hung in the air, resonating in (y/n)’s heart. As she looked at Skip, she saw the earnestness in his eyes and his brotherly smile, and a surge of emotions coursed through her. She realized that her stubbornness might not only be hurting herself but also the people who cared about her. 

“You know what, Skip? I think I can work with that,” she smirked, elbowing his side. “Looks like you’re getting your wi-”

Before (y/n) could finish her sentence, the sky erupted in a deafening roar as artillery shells rained down upon them. Trees, splinters, and the earth trembled beneath their feet with each impact. The world turned to chaos as the air was filled with dust, snow, and the screams of their friends. 

“Incoming!”

Without a second thought, Skip grabbed (y/n)’s arm and took off behind Penkala for their foxhole. With pounding hearts, they sprinted towards the safety of their hole, holding their helmets to their heads. The relentless explosions continued to rock the ground, and (y/n) would have lost her balance if it weren’t for Muck’s grip on her bicep.

Seconds later, they reached the foxhole just in time. The trio jumped down into the hole and immediately ducked in its cover. They peered over the edge at the German’s horrifying display of firepower as they were showered in dirt and wood splinters. Amongst the dust and explosions, they could make out a figure in the distance who couldn’t stay on their feet, falling to the ground every few seconds. They recognized it instantly.

“George!” (y/n) yelled. “Come on!”

Skip and Alex joined in, motioning for George to get in. “Luz!” they cried. “Hurry!”

She watched on for an agonizing moment as George scrambled to his feet but was then knocked down again, and she knew she had to do something. Jumping out of the foxhole, she sprinted toward George, her eyes locked on his figure. Skip reached out to grab her, but she slipped out of his grasp.

“(Y/n), no!” he yelled after her. 

Skip’s heart raced as he watched her run off into the barrage, and panic ate at him. His protective instincts screamed at him to follow her, and in a burst of terror, he attempted to leap out of the foxhole after her. But before he could fully leave the hole, Alex grabbed him by the collar and yanked him back forcefully. 

“Skip, you can’t!” Alex shouted, desperation filling his voice. “You can’t follow her out there!”

Muck’s body twisted and turned in a futile attempt to free himself from his friend’s grip, a mixture of frustration and terror etched across his face. Realizing he wasn’t getting to her, he yelled after the pair. 

“(Y/n)! George!!”

As (y/n) dashed toward George, the world around her seemed to blur in the chaos of the artillery barrage. The deafening roar of exploding shells and the earth-shaking tremors filled the air, making it difficult to hear anything but the explosions and blood pumping in her ears. Every step through the snow-covered forest was a struggle, and her boots almost slipped on the icy ground.

Finally, (y/n) reached his side, her gloved hand wrapping around his arm in a vice-like grip. She yelled, but her voice was lost in the roar of the artillery. The dirt shook beneath them as another shell landed dangerously close, sending them both sprawling to the ground. (Y/n) and Luz frantically crawled forward on their hands and knees, their fingers digging into the frozen earth.

Back in the foxhole, Skip and Alex continued to scream for them, their voices somehow echoing among the chaos. Their pleas turned into frantic cries, “(Y/n)! George! Come on, get in here!”

With each painstaking crawl, the ground continued to shake as explosions sent dirt and shrapnel whizzing through the air. Her breaths came out in ragged gasps, and she kept her eyes on her friends ahead of them. The world around them seemed surreal, with bursts of blinding light and deafening explosions as the artillery barrage continued. It felt like an eternity had passed when they’d almost reached the foxhole. 

“Come on! Come on, Luz! Hurry, (y/n/n)-”

The world seemed to blur as (y/n) and George saw a blinding light, followed by a colossal plume of dirt, debris, and flames engulfing their friend’s foxhole. The two friends who had been calling out to them just moments ago were silenced in an instant. (Y/n)’s surroundings slowed, and for a brief, excruciating moment, everything froze. The deafening roar of the artillery was drowned out by the sound of her racing heart. Her eyes widened, and her breath caught in her throat as she watched the horrifying scene unfold. 

The realization hit her like a freight train, and her vision blurred as tears welled up in her eyes. Shock and disbelief passed through her, and her hands trembled uncontrollably. She clamped her gloved hand over her mouth, unable to comprehend what had just unfolded before her eyes. Skip and Alex were gone. Gone. 

“No,” she whispered, her throat tight.

Reality slowly washed over them, and as another shell screamed towards them, George grabbed her arm and pulled her toward the nearest shelter, which happened to be Lip’s hole. Lip pulled (y/n) down into the hole first, wrapping her in his arms as Luz huddled next to them, the barrage continuing.

“Muck and Penkala,” George screamed. 

Lip couldn’t hear him. “What?”

���Muck and Penkala got hit!”

As soon as the words left Luz’s mouth, a shell landed right behind their cover, sending the logs protecting them flying into the air. The men yelled, but (y/n) stayed silent. Her body trembled with each deafening explosion that rocked the earth, and her heart felt like it was tearing apart. The tears flowed uncontrollably, blurring her vision as she cried hysterically into Lip’s shoulder. 

She was crammed between the two men, each covering her the best they could as the assault continued. After a few moments, the world stilled, and a haunting silence hung in the air, a stark contrast to the earlier chaos. 

A whistling sound and a thud echoed through the foxhole, but (y/n) couldn’t bring herself to look up from her sheltered position. George’s movement beside her drew her attention, and she heard the familiar sound of a Zippo being opened, followed by the scent of cigarettes wafting through the air. 

“(Y/n)? You okay?” Lip asked shakily. “You hurt?”

Lip’s concerned voice broke through the somber atmosphere, and he shifted to give her room to breathe. His question echoed in her ears, pulling her back from the brink of despair. She turned her tear-stained face towards him, her watery eyes shimmering in the moonlight. She attempted to respond, but all that escaped her was a shuddering gasp as she shook her head slowly from side to side.

“Skip and Alex,” she croaked, a sob racking through her body as she dropped her face into her hands. “They-”

Carwood’s heart broke for the girl, knowing how close she was to them. “I know, (y/n). I know.”

As she sat there in the foxhole, huddled with Lip and George, the weight of her grief bore down on her, and she couldn’t help but reminisce about the cherished moments she’d shared with her friends. The laughter that was always present in their company, the hilarious stories they swapped, the letters read, and the deep connection they all shared. 

The realization that she’d never again hear Skip’s mischievous teasing or Alex’s sarcasm again unleashed a fresh surge of agony, leaving her feeling utterly distraught. The pain of knowing that Skip would never get to hug Ruth again, or experience the joy of marrying Faye Tanner pierced her very soul. The future he once envisioned had been cruelly snatched away. 

He would never reach the age of 23, and Alex’s life would never extend to the milestone of 21. The cruel hand of fate had robbed them of their dreams and aspirations, leaving (y/n) with a grief-stricken heart, mourning not only their past but also the future that would never come to pass.

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[mads-weasley]

Epiphany Pt. 3: Haunted

Lewis Nixon x Reader

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

A/N: hey guys!! i had originally planned for operation market garden to be one chapter, but there were just too many things that i wanted to add, so it will be split up into at least two! hbo owns the rights, and this is about the fictional portrayal of easy company on the show. nothing but love and respect for veterans on this blog!

Summary: Things aren't as cut and dry as they seem when Easy jumps into Holland for Operation Market Garden, and (y/n) faces a heartbreaking reality.

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: slightly graphic mistreatment of women (eindhoven scene)

SEPTEMBER 13, 1944: ALDBOURNE, ENGLAND

The pub was alive, bustling with half-drunken paratroopers when (y/n) arrived with Skip, Alex, and Don. They were missing their fifth member who they spotted across the bar playing darts with Buck. 

“How much money do ya’ think he’s lost?” Skip asked, snickering as they made their way through the crowd to an empty table. 

(Y/n) grimaced. “As long as he’s not asking me for a loan again, I don’t care. He still owes me $20.”

“Ehh, you’re probably not gonna get that back, (y/n/n), Penkala laughed, throwing an arm over her shoulder. “You should know George well enough by now.”

“Well, the first twenty bucks he gets is mine tonight, boys.”

Finding a booth in the corner, Don, Skip, and (y/n) plopped down while Alex went to get them drinks. They looked around the room and observed some of Bull’s new squad replacements sitting nearby. 

“They don’t look older than twelve,” Skip scoffed, shaking his head.

Don smacked the side of his head, rolling his eyes. “Skip, you don’t look much older than twelve, alright, so ease up.” 

“You’re telling me you don’t even feel a litt-”

“No,” (y/n) interrupted. “I don’t. They’re here the same reason we are.”

Before Skip could argue back, Alex returned with their drinks, and the first thing (y/n) did was gulp hers. To her dismay, Alex had started to ramble about the replacements to Skip, and the pair picked up right where she’d cut him off. With a sigh, she got up and walked over to George, Buck, Toye, and a replacement, who were crowded around the dartboard. They all watched Buck as he lined up a shot.

“Here we go. One shot. Here we go,” he muttered to himself.

When she slid into the space beside George, he smirked with a wink, nodding toward Buck, as if to say, ‘Look at this.’

“Lieutenant,” he began. “You gonna shoot lefty all night?”

Toye and the red-headed replacement’s faces fell, and (y/n) took a sip of her drink to hide her smirk. 

Joe looked between George and Buck in disbelief. “Hey, come on,” He groaned.

“Just curious,” George continued, “‘Cause he’s right-handed.” 

A sly smile grew on Buck’s face as he switched sides and lined up his shot. “George. What would I do without George Luz?”

The group watched as the dart left Buck’s hand and hit the bullseye dead on.

“Boop!”

Collective groans came from Joe and the replacement at George’s antics as he turned to the men. “Goodness, gracious!”

“Two packs, gentlemen,” Compton announced, holding out his hand.

“I know you’ve got them. Pay up.”

Joe looked at (y/n) who was still smirking into her drink. “You gonna let them screw us like that, (y/n)?”

She shrugged her shoulders. “I didn’t see anything, Joe.”

Rolling his eyes, Toye grumbled as he placed a pack of cigarettes in Buck’s outstretched hand before walking off. The replacement approached (y/n) with a nervous smile, and she had to agree with Skip that he did look twelve, even if he towered over her. 

“Heffron,” he introduced, holding out his hand. “Babe Heffron. Nice to meet you. The guys have told me nothing but great things.”

She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Babe. You’re in Bull’s squad, right?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Raising her eyebrows, (y/n) snorted. “Ma’am makes me sound like an old woman. Call me (y/n).”

“Yes, ma’a-, I mean, (y/n),” he corrected, his face turning crimson.

Seeing the flash of a familiar silver flask near the door, (y/n) nodded at Babe. “It was nice meeting you, Heffron. You’re in good hands with Bull.”

She found him sitting at a table with Harry Welsh, who looked more tipsy than usual. “(Y/n). Speak of the devil. We wer-”

Nix’s eyes widened, and he kicked Harry discreetly under the table. “You meet the new replacements?” He asked as if Welsh hadn’t spoken.

Raising an eyebrow, she sat in the empty seat beside Lew. “What was that, Lieutenant?”

“Uhh, we were gonna ask you about the replacements,” he replied slowly, glancing at Nix for confirmation.

Though she didn’t understand Harry’s odd behavior, she didn’t push it. “They seem nice. I’ve just met Heffron after George and Buck conned him playing darts.”

Lew took a swig of his flask, throwing an arm on the back of (y/n)’s chair, his fingertips lightly brushing her shoulder. “Bull will take care of them,” he began. “He’s a good sergeant.”

(Y/n) nodded, unsure of her voice at his subtle touch. One touch and she was down for the count. Thinking back to D-Day and the way he held her, heat spread through her. She looked down at the drink in her hand and realized she needed a refill.

“I’ll be right back. I’m gonna get another drink,” she announced, getting up from her seat.

Lew got up, too, grabbing his signature flask. “I’ll come with. Harry, don’t cause too much trouble while we’re gone, alright?”

He rolled his eyes, shooing them away with a wave of his hand. “Yeah, yeah. Go on. I’ll survive.”

The duo made their way for the crowd before leaning against the bar. 

“I thought you only drink VAT-69,” she questioned, motioning to the barkeep for two beers.

Nix faced her, his eyes scanning her face. “My supply is running low, so I’ve gotta cut back until I can get some more.”

The bartender returned with two beers and she gratefully took them, returning to their table with Nix in tow. As soon as they sat down, he placed his arm around her chair once again, and she took a big sip of her drink, knowing she would need it to make it through the night. 

“So, how’s the officer’s life treating you two?” She asked, trying to hide the blush that crept up her neck.

Harry took a deep breath. “Well…”

An hour and a few drinks later, (y/n) was throwing her head back in laughter at something Harry said. Nix just chuckled beside her, knowing she was drunk due to the fact Harry’s comment wasn’t funny at all.

Her head felt as if was stuffed with cotton, and the world was tilted slightly off its axis, but regardless, she was chatting away with the two Lieutenants.

“Ya’know,” she giggled, waving her hands around emphatically. “Kitty’s a lucky gal ‘ta have ya, Har. Outta all-”

Her hand caught a glass and sent it flying, beer spilling across the table. 

“Oh no.”

Lew stood up and gently grasped her elbow, helping her to her feet. “Come on, doll. You’ve had enough.”

“Lewis,” she whined. “I’m not drunk.”

His chuckled. “Really?”

“Uh, ‘yeh.”

“Okay,” he smirked, pointing behind her. “Try to walk to Luz.”

(Y/n) nodded and wobbly took one, two, three steps before tilting to her right, arms flailing. Luckily, Lew was ready and caught her by her waist effortlessly.

“I guess I am drunk,” she murmured into his shoulder. 

Her attempt gained the attention of her squadmates who still sat at the same table from hours earlier. Don and George walked over, faces painted with concern.

“She alright?” Luz asked with a grimace.

“Yeah. She’s just a lightweight,” Nixon smirked, glancing down at the woman in his arms. “I’m gonna take her home.”

Lifting her head off his shoulder, she looked up at him. “Already there,” she whispered to herself.

To her dismay, Don had heard it, and the man’s eyes became saucers as he realized what she meant. Everything clicked in his head.

“Yeah,” he smiled. “I’ll get someone to check on her in the morning.”

With a curt nod, Nix led her out of the pub and was hit with a wave of sharp, chilly air that had her huddling closer to him. He had a secure hand around her waist, keeping her upright as they walked down the cobblestone streets of Aldbourne. 

“You alright down there?” He asked, squeezing her hip gently.

(Y/n) basked in his warmth. “I like it when you hold me.”

The man got choked up on his saliva and coughed a few times at her confession.

“Well,” he began slowly, staring down at her, the moonlight illuminating her face. “I like to hold you.”

“Why?”

A smile formed on his lips. “You can ask me when you’re sober, but I doubt you’ll remember any of this, sweetheart.”

She nodded once against his shoulder as they turned onto her street. Aldbourne was a quiet town, especially on a Sunday night. It was easy for one to find themselves getting lost in their thoughts. The soft glow from windows reflecting off the pavement felt like home, even if they were thousands of miles away from theirs.

In different circumstances, Lew could envision him and (y/n) on their way home from a night dancing or movie picture, giggling as young couples do, oblivious to the horrors of the world. But that wasn’t reality. They’d seen the horrors firsthand, and he envied the people who lived and loved in times of peace.

A soft voice broke him from his thoughts. “Thanks.”

Looking up and realizing they’d arrived at her billet, he reluctantly let go of her. He felt the loss of her warmth and reached out to take her hand. “Drink some water, alright? I can’t have you being grumpy tomorrow because you’re hungover.”

She smiled blearily, squeezing his hand. “Thanks for ev’rythin, Lew.”

In a moment of weakness, he sighed and tugged her closer. As Lew’s strong arms wrapped gently around (y/n)’s frame, he felt her heart beating through her chest, as if it were trying to send him a message. The scent of her hair, a delicate mix of her shampoo, and the evening breeze intoxicated his senses. All he could think about was the woman in his arms. Standing there in the warm embrace of a quiet, moonlit night, it was as if the war wasn’t raging around the world. But just as quickly as it had begun, the hug came to an end. They pulled away, eyes meeting for a fleeting moment as if searching for answers in each other’s gaze.

“G’nigh,” she giggled, walking towards her door with unsteady steps.

“Night, sweetheart,”

Once the door had closed and he heard the familiar click of the lock, he backed up onto the street shaking his head with a bashful smile.

“I’m in trouble,” he chuckled, making his way back to the bar.

September 14, 1944: ALDBOURNE, ENGLAND

(Y/n) awoke with a groan, hearing dull raps from the front door beneath her. Each knock was like a drum banging inside her skull as she made her way down the stairs. The family she was staying with was on a weekend vacation, and she was thankful their children wouldn’t see her so hungover.

(Y/n) opened the door, squinting at the bright sunlight. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah,” a kind voice replied. Lip. 

Her eyes widened. “Sorry, Car, I didn’t realize it was you.”

“It’s alright,” he began softly. “You weren’t at the pub last night, so I wanted to let you know we’re moving out again.”

Already?.

“Okay. Thanks, Lip,” (y/n) nodded, eyes sinking to the floor as she closed the door.

Great.

September 17, 1944: Operation Market Garden

As Easy Company sat in ditches along the road to Eindhoven, an eerie silence hung in the air. Sure, Allied intelligence suspected the Krauts in the country were mostly old men and kids, but the paratroopers were on their toes, ready for whatever would come next.

(Y/n) was sandwiched between George and Skip, who were grumbling back and forth about a failed darts game the night before. 

“Will you two shut up, please?” She laughed softly. “I can’t even hear myself think.”

George smirked, adjusting his helmet. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

A squadron of Allied aircraft roared overhead, and soon after, they approached the town. A window opened, and (y/n) motioned for everyone to get down as she crouched beside a fence. The person pulled out a long orange banner and tied it around the window.

“Okay, hold your fire,” Bull appeared behind them, cigar hanging from his lips.

Staring at the town above her M-1 sight, a deep pang of worry shot through her stomach. Something didn’t feel right.

The paratroopers couldn’t believe their eyes as the people of Eindhoven celebrated their liberation from the German occupation. Bright orange flags flew from every window, and (y/n) found herself smiling at the pure joy that oozed from the town. 

(Y/n) and George had gotten separated from the rest of their squad in the crowd as they dodged kisses from the locals. Well, (y/n) dodged their kisses. After a few girls tried to land a smooch on her lips, she removed her helmet, showing she was a woman. Soon the town's men caught on and were trying to do the same. 

She tried to push through the crowd as quickly as possible staving off any attempts from them. Looking behind her, she groaned at the empty spot where George had been. “George,” she called, cupping her hands around her mouth. “Luz! Come on!”

A few seconds later, he appeared to her right, fresh red lipstick smeared across his lips that were quirked into a wide grin.

“Gosh, (y/n). Can’t a guy have some fun?” He joked, wiping his mouth with his hand.

Turning around, she rolled her eyes and made her way through an opening in the crowd only to be pulled to the side by her arm. “Hey!”

A familiar Philly accent filled her ears. “Come get in this picture, (y/n)!”

Babe pulled her through the crowd, and George followed, kissing as many girls as he could along the way. 

“There they are!” Chuck yelled, throwing his arm around a blonde.

George and Babe stood behind a few kids wearing orange hats and waving flags, all smiling from ear to ear. A wide smile grew on (y/n)’s face as she knelt beside the kids, placing her helmet on the little girl's head beside her. The helmet tipped down, covering the girl’s face except for her crooked, snaggle-toothed smile. (Y/n) quickly fixed it for her, and to her surprise, the little girl threw herself in the woman’s arms. Fighting off tears, she sniffled and hugged the girl back before pointing to the camera.

“Smile, everybody!” (Y/n) announced.

The picture was taken with a click, and (y/n)’s eyes wandered to the left of the cameraman.

She froze, her face falling. Time slowed as she watched the scene unfold before her. A local woman with long, flowing chestnut hair and a confident stride approached Lew. (Y/n) squinted to get a better look, her heart pounding. She watched in disbelief as the stranger reached up and placed a hand on Lew’s cheek, drawing him closer. The world around (y/n) seemed to blur as the stranger’s lips met Lew’s, and they kissed, and he didn't pull away.

Time seemed to stand still for (y/n). She couldn’t comprehend what she was witnessing. Her mind raced with questions. 

Why was Lew kissing her? 

Her hands clenched into fists, and tears welled up in her eyes. (Y/n) felt like a statue, unable to move or speak as the painful scene played out before her. She knew she had no right to be jealous, but not so deep down, she wished it were her instead. Her heart ached, and her stomach churned with anger, jealousy, and sadness.

George tapped her shoulder, his brows furrowed. “(Y/l/n)? You alright?”

Following her line of sight, he found what she was fixated on and softly sighed.

“He’s an idiot, (y/n/n). Come on,” he murmured, hoisting her up by her arm.

She stood and blinked away angry tears that filled her vision. She knew she had no right to be jealous, but not so deep down, she wished it were her.

A small voice below her broke her train of thought. “Dank,” the little girl nodded, holding out (y/n)’s helmet. She forced a smile and took it from the girl. 

George tugged her arm softly, pulling her in the opposite direction of Nix. She blindly followed in a haze, her mind muddied with hurtful thoughts. Townsfolk grabbed at her jacket as she and George made their way to the main town square where 2nd platoon was meeting. 

She was snapped out of her mind by the sound of screams. Her head moved on a swivel trying to find the sound’s source. Spotting a circle of citizens up ahead, she pushed past George quickly, squeezing her way through a few men to see inside the circle.

Before her, half-naked women were on their knees, crying as their hair was roughly shaved, leaving them with blood streaking down their necks and faces. Two Dutch resistance fighters bumped past (y/n) with another petrified woman in their arms. They threw her down and began to rip the clothes off her body. (Y/n)’s eyes narrowed as a burning sensation filled her chest. 

“Hey!” She cried, shoving one of them away from the woman. “That’s enough!”

The man recovered swiftly, but (y/n) didn’t give up. Unable to bend her to his will, he resorted to dirty tactics, shoving her forcefully and causing her to stumble and fall to the hard cobblestone street with a thud. 

“Stomme meid,” he spat.

Stupid girl. 

Her unclasped helmet skidded a few feet away as her head came in contact with the road. The impact knocked the wind out of her, leaving her momentarily gasping for breath. 

For a few seconds, everyone’s eyes were on the (y/n), then all hell let loose. Easy’s men were trying to get to her with enraged shouts but were unable to get through the crowd. With great effort, (y/n) pushed herself up off the ground, her face flushed but her spirit unbroken. She looked the man squarely in the eyes, refusing to show fear despite the pain in her chest. 

The man leered down at her with a smirk as he switched to heavily accentuated English. “Maybe we should teach you a less-”

(Y/n) lost all self-control as her arm reeled back ready to swing, but someone grabbed it tightly and tried to pull her away from the man. Seeing a flash of dark hair, she knew it was him, and her fury only grew. (Y/n) resisted, her heart pounding with adrenaline.

“No, Nix!” She protested, her voice filling with fiery determination. She wriggled free from his grasp for a moment, her eyes still locked onto the resistance fighters. “Let go of me! They can’t do this! We can’t let them do this!”

He stepped in front of (y/n), blocking her view of the confrontation, and looked deeply into her eyes. “(Y/n), I know, all right? I wish we could, but we can’t do anything about it.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, she tried to push past him only to hear a tone he had never used with her before.

“Stop! That’s an order, (y/l/n),” he gritted, his heart squeezing in his chest at the words.

(Y/n) stared at the Officer in disbelief. 

How dare he not help these poor women?

Tears filled her eyes for the second time that day as she took one more look at the poor woman on the ground. “I’m sorry,” she whispered before shoving her way back through the crowd.

Lew’s eyes followed her until she disappeared into the mob. Sighing, he ran a hand down his face.

What a difference a few days can bring.

One of the men behind him spoke. “She’s a lively one, no?”

“Shut it,” Nix snapped, scooping (y/n)’s discarded helmet off the street.

When he found Dick, Harry, and Buck, he handed the helmet to her platoon leader. “It’s (y/n)’s.”

Buck took it with a nod as the four officers watched the British Armored Division come rumbling down the street. 

It was going to be a long operation.

Tag List: @softguarnere @mrsgeorgeluz @flowers-and-fichte @inglourious-imagines @peggyvan @rebeccapearson @hxad-ovxr-hxart @im-chinese-believe-it-or-not @shakespear-picaso-lovechild @titiglt @stvrkdream @multifandomfanfic

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[inglourious-imagines]

Coming Back to You (Donald Malarkey x GN!Reader)

Summary: After Bastogne, Malarkey is more distant than ever, barely talking to you anymore. But we don’t give up on those we love, right?

Requested by: @love-studying58 (Your last Malarkey post I requested got me in the feels and I’m requesting a similar one cause Malark is my fav. )

Prompts: 85 – “He loves you, you know? He’s just afraid of admitting it.” (used as a setting, not as words being said) & 8 – “I said I’m fucking fine.”

Warnings: just some swear words

A/N: Finally wrote it, yayy! Hope it's alright.

Taglist: @alienoresimagines @teenmagazines @meteora-fc @eugenesmorphine @band-of-brothers-cz @real-fans @not-john-watsons-blog @tealaquinn @ok-roemanov @mrseasycompany @punkgeekchic @wexhappyxfew @hellitwasyoufirstsergeant @rayofshanshine @mavysnavy @easynix @georgeluzwarmhugs @easy-company-tradition @immrsronaldspeirs @snafus-peckuh @curraheewestandalone @warrior-healer @justamadgirlinabox @happyveday @order-of-river-phoenix @whoahersheybars

.

.

.

The internal debating whether not-knowing or knowing would be worse is slowly taking its toll on your mental state. Ever since your Company heard the news about the patrol and the rumours that Malarkey is the one to lead it, you’ve been anxious and terrified beyond words.

It is almost evening, and you’re sitting with other Easy Company soldiers in a basement of one of the buildings in Hagenau, slowly sipping on the liquid the army so casually likes to call coffee. But it’s hot, and it warms your cold shaky hands. Even breathing is hard now, anxiety spreading to every part of your body like an infection. You’re terrified and you’re not even supposed to be on the patrol. All because of your heart that clings maybe too hard onto a broken soldier with a green beanie.

Your eyes scan the room, trying to find him but he’s nowhere to be seen; part of you wants to get up, find him, tell him all the things you’ve been dying to say since Toccoa, the other part keeps you glued to the old wooden chair and it seems you are stuck at dead end, neither of the sides taking the initiative.

“Don’t you look like Webster when the Krauts shot him,” George laughs as he plops himself on the chair next to you. You know very well he’s just trying to cheer you up, knowing exactly what’s gotten you down, but to say you look like David when shot? That’s a bit far.

“Fuck you too, Luz,” you retort, but a smile tugs at your lips anyway.

George puts up his hands in a surrender-like manner, grinning like a kid. “Well, maybe not, but you do look terrible.”

This time you let out an amused chuckle. “You sure know how to compliment a person. Thank you.”

“Come on, now, Y/N, you know what I mean.” George says as his face slowly gets more serious but the soft smile of his never disappears. “Someone should go talk to him,” he continues, his voice gentle and somewhat soothing, and you, for a split of a second, let yourself believe that this is your older brother giving you relationship advice. That thought warms your heart more than the coffee ever could, and you pick up your gaze at George, offering him a sincere smile.

You don’t have to ask, for George already knows your next move.

“Walk up the stairs to the first floor, then the first door to your left.”

You pat his shoulder while getting up, leaving that cup of unfinished coffee on your chair. “Thanks, G, I might just let that earlier insult pass after all.”

---

You slowly walk up the stairs, with each step losing a bit of the sudden courage you felt before, but you don’t stop, you simply can’t. The doors are slightly opened, so when you peer in, you can see Malarkey quietly discussing something with Babe. You don’t want to disturb them, for both of them seem deep in thought, serious and so tired, so you slowly step back.

You don’t have to wait too long, in a few moments, Heffron is standing in the hall next to you. He gives you a sympathetic smile and without a word leaves you be. You don’t know it yet, but almost every soldier from the original Easy Company squad knew about your little crush that apparently is reciprocated, even though somewhat badly and without words so you have no idea. George will tell you, once you reach Germany, about all the secret bets concerning you and Malarkey, that even some of the officers are in on them. And you will laugh, rosy cheeked, and George will laugh too, saying how bad of a secret agent you would make.

Malarkey is looking out the window when you enter the room.

“Hi,” you say quietly to announce your present and take some steps towards him. “Are you okay?

“I’m fine,” he immediately answers without looking at you or even turning his head a bit.

You sigh, “You can talk to me, Don, if you’d li-“

“I said I’m fucking fine.”

That makes you stop in your tracks. Malarkey has never been harsh to you and even though it might be just fatigue and stress talking, his words hurt you. You reckon he wants to be left alone, to deal with whatever’s coming at him on his own, so with a heavy heart you turn your back to him.

But then he speaks again, this time his voice is soft and gentle. “Wait.”

You let out a sigh, knowing you would do anything he asks you to. So you turn to face him and the sight breaks your heart. He looks more exhausted than ever, the war aging him, making him look a lot older than he actually is.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers and without any warning, Malarkey crosses the distance between you two and brings you in for a desperate hug. You’re taken aback, the sudden show of emotions isn’t something you’re quite used to with Malarkey, so it takes you a few moments to truly comprehend the situation and wrap your arms around his torso.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers again, his voice so quiet you can barely hear the words. He’s clinging onto you like the drowning to a life vest, like his life depends on it and he’d break if he let you go.

You know he’s been hurting but it isn’t until now that you can physically feel his pain through his touch. Your eyes water but you forbid yourself to cry, focusing on Donald’s heartbeat to help you to remain calm.

“You don’t have to apologize,” you finally answer.

“Yes, yes, I do,” he’s quick to retort, his grip on you only tightens and it is slightly harder for you to breath now, but you don’t complain, how could you, when his touch is also the solution to all your problems.

“I finally realized something I should have realized long ago,” Malarkey continues but pauses right after. Then he’s suddenly pushing you away, gently, with the words: “I need to look at you when I say this.”

Your heart is in your throat by now. You try to calm yourself down but Malarkey grabs your hands and you’re dizzy again, but the good kind, the kind that makes you feel like you can do anything you want.

“I realized that if it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have made it through this war. You’ve always been by my side, through Currahee, through the jump, through Bastogne and I know I haven’t appreciated you enough for it and for that I am truly sorry.”

His voice is stronger now as he gains more confidence in his words. Your cheeks are red as tomatoes, and you can feel yourself smiling like a little child.

“And if your feelings haven’t changed, I’d like to spend all the moments I have left proving to you, that you, Y/N, are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Malarkey pauses for a second, his eyes fixated on you, a soft smile lightening up his face. “The truth is, my Y/N, I lov-“

“Don’t say it!” you interrupt him, surprising him and yourself. He looks at you confused and hurt that it almost breaks your heart again, but you know you have to say this.

“You can’t confess that to me, not yet, not before the patrol. I wouldn’t be able to let you go.”

His shoulders visibly relax a bit and the wrinkles leave his face.

“Come back to me,” you smile at him, “come back to me and then you can have all my moments, all of them will belong to you, they always have.”

And then, after such long years, Malarkey is finally smiling, no, grinning happily, and you see the three years younger man in him, just like when you met him in Toccoa, Georgia. His face lightens up and he’s hugging you again, saying, “Then I shall come back. I’ll come back.”

You’re laughing as he spins you around in his arms and suddenly it is very hard to contain all the joy, luck and love in your heart.

“I’ll always come back to you.”

[donovanlizzie]

Reunion pt2 - Eugene ‘Doc’ Roe

MASTERLIST

BAND OF BROTHERS MASTERLIST

PART 1

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

The days melded into nights amid the relentless chaos of the battlefield, each moment fraught with tension and uncertainty. For Eugene 'Doc' Roe, the memory of Y/n lingered like a beacon of hope amidst the darkness of war.

Once a distant acquaintance from high school, she was constantly on his mind, a reminder of a world beyond the brutality they faced daily.

His comrades began to notice his preoccupation, especially Edward 'Babe' Heffron, who settled beside him in the foxhole one evening, concern etched in his features.

"You've been quieter than usual, Roe. What's eating at you?" Babe prodded, his tone gentle yet insistent.

Roe hesitated, torn between the weight of his thoughts and the instinct to keep them hidden.

But as Babe persisted, the words spilled out almost involuntarily. "I ran into an old school friend at the hospital," he confessed, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"She's a medic for Dog Company." Babe's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Well, well, well, looks like Roe's been holding out on us," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Roe's anxiety surged. "Keep it down, Babe! This is serious," he urged, a sense of urgency in his tone. "Her name's Y/n," he added, the weight of his secret finally lifted off his shoulders.

Babe held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, lips are sealed," he promised, understanding the gravity of the situation.

They fell into a companionable silence, mindful of the need for sound discipline in their company.

" wow - Y/N huh? she must be some dame!" Babe joked, elbowing Eugene, both trying to stop shivering.

" she was somethin'" Eugene drawled, looking up into the night sky.

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

Months later, the Easy Company boys found themselves in Austria, the war in Europe over, but the battle in the Pacific still raging.

After being informed by Speirs that Easy Company would be deployed into the Pacific, morale was shattered once again.

"We will be training for war at 06:00," Speirs announced solemnly.

Eugene turned his head slightly, catching sight of someone he never thought he'd see again, Y/n , standing at the end of the platoon line. He felt a mix of emotions—relief to see her, yet sickened at the thought of her joining them in the Pacific.

"Eugene," she hummed, walking through the dispersing men.

"Y/n, what are you doing here?" Roe asked, his voice filled with concern.

"It's the end of the war in Europe, Gene. Pretty sure half the US Army is here-," she replied with a small smile.

She sighed after seeing his face contort into a sour expression, "I didn't have enough points to go home, so I asked for a transfer."

Roe pulled back slightly, his hands gently placed on her shoulders as he looked into her eyes, searching for any trace of doubt or fear. But all he found was unwavering strength and determination mirrored back at him.

"I was worried sick when I heard about the hospital bombing back in Bastogne," he admitted, squinting in the sunlight.

Y/n nodded, her gaze steady. "It was rough, but we were out in the field when it happened," she explained, a hint of sorrow in her voice. "A few good men got caught up in it all."

As they stood together, a sense of peace settled over them, a brief respite before they were thrown back into war again.

Then, some of the Easy boys clocked the two of them, shuffling over quickly. The group included Edward Babe Heffron, George Luz, Perconte, Joe Liebgott, and Webster.

Babe's eyes widened in realization as he approached, a grin spreading across his face. "Well, well, well, who do we have here? You gonna introduce us, Doc?" he exclaimed, nudging his comrades with an elbow.

"Roe's been keeping this one locked away, ain't he?" George spoke up, grinning at the two of them.

"What's this, Roe? Found yourself a sweetheart?" Perconte teased, a hint of humor in his voice.

Roe's cheeks flushed slightly as he exchanged a sheepish glance with Y/n. "Uh, guys, this is Y/n. She's the medic for Dog Company," he introduced, a note of warmth in his tone. "She's transferred to Easy now - she's gonna be jumping with us."

Babe stepped forward, extending his hand to Y/n with a grin. "I'm Babe Heffron, pleasure to meet you. Any friend of Roe's is a friend of ours," he said warmly, his easygoing demeanor putting Y/n at ease.

Y/n returned the handshake, a smile playing at her lips. "Nice to meet you all," she greeted, her voice laced with genuine warmth.

"Dog company, huh? You must know our captain, Speirs?" Joe Liebgott asked, curiosity evident in his tone.

Y/n chuckled, nodding her head. "Oh yeah, good ol' Speirs. Terrifying, isn't he?" she joked, a playful glint in her eyes. "But a damn good captain. We were all sorry to lose him to you Easy boys. - I'm glad to be in his company again for this, I'll tell you that much!"

The boys laughed at her remark. "Hey, we're on our way to play a little baseball - why don't you join us? Seeing as you're the newest medic for Easy!"

She agreed, letting the boys lead the way, while Roe lingered behind, slyly linking his arm with hers as they walked towards the baseball field.

The baseball game was in full swing, and for some, including Y/n, it was the first time they had genuinely smiled in months. They pushed the thought of jumping into the Pacific to the backs of their heads and tried to revel in the last moments of peace.

It was Roe's turn to hit the ball, and Perconte pitched. Roe swung with all his might, sending the ball soaring into the distance. Compton caught it and threw it directly to Y/n, who stood at the base Roe was running to.

"You're out, Medic man," she smirked as she caught the ball.

Roe stood up, a playful glint in his eye that even the Easy boys hadn't seen before. The two got up from the ground together, and Y/n felt her breath hitch as he took a step towards her.

"Na-a-a, get back, Mr.," she smirked, gently pushing at his chest, laughing slightly.

Just then, Winter and Nixon walked over with news, standing next to Speirs who called out to Easy to form a school circle. "Listen up - We've got some news," Winter said calmly. "This morning, President Truman received the unconditional surrender from the Japanese."

"The war is over,"

As soon as the words left Winter's mouth, the impact of the news reverberated through the gathered soldiers. Y/n's hand flew to her mouth in shock before instinctively reaching for Eugene's, seeking reassurance amidst the whirlwind of emotions.

She turned her head immediately to look at him, her eyes searching his face for confirmation, for solace.

Eugene, like the rest of them, wore a mixture of disbelief and relief etched into his features, the weight of years of hardship and sacrifice momentarily lifted from his shoulders.

As the words sank in, a wave of euphoria washed over the group. Some of the boys couldn't contain their joy any longer, and they erupted into cheers and whoops, their jubilant voices cutting through the tension that had lingered for so long.

Smiles broke out across faces that had grown accustomed to weariness and sorrow, and hugs were exchanged between comrades who had fought side by side through the darkest of days.

Caught up in the elation of the moment, Eugene acted on pure instinct. Without thinking, he swept Y/n up into his arms, her laughter ringing out like music amidst the cacophony of celebration. He spun her around in a full circle, the sheer relief and joy of the moment coursing through his veins like wildfire.

As they laughed together, he couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to kiss her.

Their passionate kiss elicited a few hoots and hollers from the surrounding men, the sound of their laughter serving as a backdrop to the intimate moment shared between her and Eugene.

In that fleeting instant, amidst the jubilation and the chaos, they found solace in each other's arms, a silent acknowledgment of all they had endured and all they had overcome.

"The war is over," Y/n whispered breathlessly as they finally broke apart, her voice filled with disbelief and wonder. And in that moment, standing amidst the jubilant throng of soldiers, Eugene knew that no matter what the future held, as long as they were together, they could weather any storm.

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

Tagged : @she-wolf09231982

[she-wolf09231982]

Joe Liebgott

“You Nervous?”

Summary: You thought your relationship with Liebgott was complicated…until it wasn’t and it led to an unexpected evening of overwhelming emotions and sexual tension.

A/N: One shot, Mature audience, JoeLoebgottx!FemMedic, WW2, Female Pronouns, Cursing/Swearing, Derogatory Slurs, Womanizing Comments, Military and Medical Terminology, Inappropriate Nicknames, HBO Band of Brothers References, Mentions/Descriptions of Injuries, Weaponry, Smoking. Angst/Conflict, Smut, FOREVER FLUFF

This piece was at the request of @awaterfalls ❤️ hope you like it Nat!

*These stories may not fall entirely in accordance with the TV series timeline. I do not know the real soldiers the actors portray in this series, so please understand I show no disrespect. Some or most of historical events and character interactions in my fanfics are fabricated purely for the sake of the enjoyment of fiction*

~~~~~~~

You weren’t the type to take being treated like a doormat. You were raised to find your place amongst others regardless of gender. You earned your respect because you did your job and you did it well, not because you were pretty and the guys wanted to bed you.

It was heavily frowned upon that women be on the front lines alongside men, but when nurses and medics started to get caught in the crossfire, they resorted to allowing females to do just about everything men did to fill the gaps. You had been assigned to Easy Company right after Toccoa, and most of them were less than receptive to say the least.

Eugene Roe was grateful to have an extra set of hands. Don Malarkey, Skip Muck, and George Luz were very taken with your sense of humor so they warmed up to you rather quickly. Joe Toye, Bill Guarnere, and Babe Roe took some time, but when you tackled Bill to avoid getting blown up by enemy artillery, their demeanor towards you made a complete 360.

Easy accepted you as one of their own…except for one: Joseph Liebgott. He was the most ornery son of a bitch you ever met. He always found a reason to trash talk you, or find fault in anything you did. All because you were a ‘broad,’ as he referred to you. The guys tried to defend you but his opinion never changed about you.

You learned to just avoid him unless he needed medical attention. He did alright not getting hurt up until you guys posted in Schoonderlogt, Holland in October 1944. He had been on patrol late one night and returned with an angry gash on the right side of his neck. One of the other patrolmen they brought back, Alley, had been hit by German gunfire and needed immediate attention.

They set Alley onto a table for when Doc got there

"Boyle, get Doc." Winters instructed then looked at Liebgott, "Where?"

"Crossroads." Liebgott replied. You notice he took a dressing and pressed it against his neck.

"Well, if it wasn't for your loud mouth-" he started to accuse Joe.

"-Hey, you know what? Back off!" Liebgott shot back as Roe pushed through the gaggle.

"Get the boots off, elevate...Lieb use the sulfur... Doc directed but noticed Joe’s neck.

“Lieb, go see Y/L/N and get that checked out.” Doc added.

“Yeah, no thanks, Doc, I’m good.” Liebgott said all too quickly with disdain.

“Joe, I wasn’t askin’ ya. It needs to be cleaned and dressed properly, it can get infected then you’ll have a bigger problem to deal with that will take you off the line. Go. I ain’t got enough hands to help ya.” Doc said sternly.

Liebgott released an irritable huff before pushing through the group to find where you were.

You had already grabbed gauze, dressings and sanitizing fluid when you heard Doc scold Joe about getting his neck looked at. He sat on a bale of straw waiting for you to tend to him. You spread out the supplies and examine his neck wound. You reach out to gently move his head to the left to get more light on it and he dodged your touch.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” He asked harshly.

“I was moving your head where I had more light on the wound. Why are you so squirrely?” You ask.

“Oh, I don’t know, because I just got shot at by a bunch of fuckin’ Krauts!” He replied sarcastically as he glared at you.

“Ok well then let’s get this fixed, shall we?” You returned with as much calmness in your voice as you could muster.

You press the cloth with the antiseptic onto his laceration and he pulled back upon feeling the sting.

“Ack! THAT HURT!” He barked.

“If you’d hold still, it wouldn’t hurt as much!!”You bit back.

You were over his childish behavior towards you.

“Just get it over with.” He grumbled, finally maintaining his composure.

You made your hands busy on his neck, wrapping the dressing like a scarf around his neck after you cleaned it. Thank goodness you didn’t need to stitch it, that would’ve been hell for both of you with his attitude.

“There. You’re good.”

“Fantastic.” He replied without a thank you.

He stood up and trudged off to join the rest of Easy for the return to Crossroads to reclaim the position. The patrol had been gone all night into the following morning, but they had eventually took victory. That evening, Winters allowed the men an evening of enjoyment at a local pub in the town to boost morale.

The men had worn their dress uniforms, each looking handsome and ready to mingle with the local women and vice versa. You hadn’t dressed up since graduating Toccoa and even then, you hadn’t been with Easy Company then, so this would be the first time they ever saw you in dress uniform,

“Hey! Get a load of this!” Toye called out to the guys when you breezed through the front door.

Liebgott standing at the bar looked over his shoulder upon feeling the cold air on the back of his neck. His jaw dropped when his eyes landed on you. He scanned your figure from head to toe.

Hair clean and perfumed pulled back into a neat fashionable bun and a face with fresh make-up and painted lips. And those gams (legs) emerging from the pencil skirt and heels and of course a clean white medic brassard displaying the Red Cross around the left bicep. You almost had the entire room at a complete standstill when you walked in.

“…Woah.” Joe whispered to himself, unaware that Talbert was near by.

“Not bad, eh, Lieb?” Tab teased.

He grimaced at Floyd and turned back to the bar to drink his beer.

The night was filled with laughter, darts, dancing, and liquor. Most of Easy had at least one dance around the room with you to favorites like Bing Crosby, Ella Fitzgerald, and The Andrew Sisters. You had just finished a dance with Toye sometime around midnight when a soldier from Dog Company had approached you.

“May I have this dance?” He asked politely with a slight bow.

Joe, standing with Buck, Luz, Babe, and Toye, watched with intensity from the dart boards.

“Maybe the next song.” You reply kindly, having just sat down for the first time in an hour.

“Come on, doll, ain’t no time like the present, right?” He insisted yanking you be the arm to the dance floor.

Liebgott’s clenched jaw and furrowed eye brows caught the attention of Toye.

“Hey, uh, you ok there, Lieb?”

Joe looked at Toye inquisitively.

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, you look a little…pissed.” Toye said plainly.

“Well, I ain’t.” Joe retorted.

He looked back at the dance floor to see where you were but was suddenly concerned he couldn’t find you right away. He saw the unknown soldier had taken you to the bar to get you a drink.

He handed you a pint and insisted you drink the whole thing.

“You said you could drink me under the table, so prove it!” He said.

“Fine, just this once.” You accepted.

You started to chug the pint, but when you started to lower the glass before it was empty, the soldier tilted the bottom up so you’d keep drinking. You finished and propped the glass open side down on the surface of the bar.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go back to my-“ you started before the soldier grabbed your upper arm.

“Oh we ain’t done here, honey.” He declared.

You tried to pull yourself out of his grasp but he pulled you in by the waist to hold you close.

“Get your meat hooks off of me.” You warned through clenched teeth.

“Or what?” He mocked.

“Or you’ll have half of Easy raining down on you.”

You hear a gravelly voice behind the brute soldier. He turned and there stood Joe Liebgott squaring up to him. Behind him Toye, Malarkey, Guarnere, and Luz.

“Come on, guys, there’s enough ladies here to go around, why can’t I have a little fun with this one?”

“Because she don’t wanna have fun with you.” Joe shot back, “Let her go.”

The soldier released your arm, as Liebgott gently tugged you behind him by your wrist.

“Enjoy the rest of your evening.” Liebgott said to him as they all walked with you to the dart boards.

Suddenly you feel Joe’s hand on the small of your back, guiding you to a more secluded spot in the back of the pub.

“What the fuck is the matter with you??” He sneered at you, positioning you against the wall to talk to you.

“Excuse me?”

“You fuckin’ heard me. Why would you put yourself in a position like that? That guy could’ve walked out with you easily with as much as you drank tonight.” He lectured.

“How do you know how much I’ve been drinking? And what business is it of yours who I’m interacting with anyway?” You returned crossing your arms.

Joe took in a deep breath through his nose as his anger started to elevate in his chest.

“If I wasn’t watching out for you, you would’ve gotten yourself into some real shit.”

He leaned in placing a hand against the wall you leaned on. His face hovering centimeters from your own. You feel his breath on your face, and notice his pupils blown out from what you thought was hate and detestation for you.

His eyes undressed you from your red lips down to your fitted blouse then looked into your eyes. Your breathe started to hasten, causing your chest to heave.

“You nervous?” Joe questioned.

Your breathe caught in your throat.

“-no.” You breathed.

He moved closer to you, pinning you against the wall as your chests touched. Your arms relaxed to your sides as your nails dug into the brick behind you. You were, indeed, very nervous. And he knew it.

The scowl Joe had slowly curled into a mischievous grin.

“I think you are.” He whispered confidently as his hand cupped your cheek.

Your eyelashes fluttered, “Wh-what are you doing?” You managed to ask.

His thumb stroked your cheek, “Admiring the view.”

You released an exhale after holding your breath for almost 5 minutes.

“I thought you hated me?”

He brushed his nose against yours, “No. As a matter of fact, I always liked ya.”

“Then why-“

Before you could finish your sentence, he closed the gap between you, locking onto your lips like it was his dying wish.

You snake your arms carefully around his neck as he pulled you into him by your waist. You slack you jaw open to allow his tongue to run along your lips. You nip his bottom lip playfully causing his hips to thrust into you.

You yanked at his jacket, pulling him into you again to feel his hard on against you. He groaned into your mouth.

“What are you doin’ doll?” He asked with a devilish grin.

“I really don’t know but-“ you pull him in again, bringing his earlobe gently between your teeth then whisper, “we can’t stop now.”

“Let’s get outta here.” Joe suggested ushering you out the back door.

~~~~~~~

You snuck off to one of the abandoned homes down the street from where you were and barely got through the door before you were undoing his belt. You kicked of your shoes into darkness then made your way up a flight of stairs leaving pieces of your uniforms trailing the steps as you ascended.

When you were down to your slip and him down to his briefs, you scamper off to an open bedroom hoping he’d chase you…which he did. You kneeled on the bed waiting for him to come to you. He approached standing at the bedside.

You seductively crawled over to the edge of the bed and suckled a trail of kisses from his collar bone all the way down the waistband of his underwear. Joe inhaled deeply through is nostrils as he closed his eyes in ecstasy. You nip and licked at the sensitive area above his pubic line.

“Quit teasin’.” Joe purred.

“Or what?” You ask looking up at him through your lashes.

A joker like smile appeared across his face as he swiftly pushed you onto you back then crawled over you, caging you between his arms.

“You asked for it, sweeheart.” He proclaimed before locking onto your mouth again.

His hardened cock grinding into you, you wrap your legs around his waist to feel as much of his friction as possible. He pulls back and began pulling your slip over your head then sat back on his heels to remove his underwear.

He gaped at you laying in front of him. He ran his hand from your stomach up to one breast, groping it then repeating on the other. He hovered over you, enveloping one of your peaked nipples in his mouth. His tongue swirling over the tip while sucking had you writing beneath him. Sensing your pleasure he switched to the other, taking the tip between his teeth.

“Please, Lieb.” You beg.

“Joe.” He corrected.

You look at him.

“I want to hear you scream my name a hundred times before the end of the night.” He growled.

You beam at him, “Please, Joe.”

He palmed himself, pumping a few times before he lined himself up with your drenched opening. He glazed his tip with your wetness, groaning at the amount of saturation.

“I really did a number on you, didn’t I?” He goaded.

All you could do was smile coyly.

He pushed into you deliciously slow. You whimper, both of you feeling every bit of your tightness around him. He embraced you instinctively until he bottomed out. He pulled back gradually, then snapped his hips forward against you with a grunt.

“Jesus Christ, Y/F/N.”

“Please, Joe.” You implore quietly in his ear.

This triggers him as he begins spearing into you roughly. He sits up, propping your legs up where he can hold you around the thighs as he drives into, hitting that perfect spot so deep inside. You push against the headboard to steady yourself onto his dick, feeling that tightening feeling in your stomach as he chased your orgasm.

He watched your face expressions purposefully, feeding off how they changed as he switched up his pace.

“Joe…” you’d moan, spurring him on to go harder.

“Yeah, sweetheart, say it again.”

“My God, Joe…”

He brought his fingers to your clit, using your slick to vigorously rub the vulnerable bud as he continued to plunge in and out of you. He loved watching you get overstimulated as you try to paw at him to pull him back into kiss.

“Right there, Joe…keep goin’.” You lament.

“Yeah? Let it go, baby.” He leered as he railed into you at a heart stopping rate.

“Oh…my GOD, JOE!” You wailed as you dig your nails into his shoulders.

He kept his pace, making sure you ride out your high until the guttural noises that emitted from him as his hips started to stutter and his load coated your insides.

He remained on top of you and inside of you, holding you like a life line with sweat dripping from everywhere. Both of your breathing in sync, each of you trying to steady your heart rates.

After a moment, you decided to break the silence.

“That was…wow.”

Joe chuckled then rolled off of you as he positioned your head on his chest.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself, sweetheart.”

~~~~~~~

[sergeant-spoons]

Darling, Swing, and a Sapphire Ring

What is it about George Luz that inspires me to write friends-to-lovers fics? Oh, wait, no, I’ve got it. It’s those big brown eyes and that big cheeky smile.

Luz, you’ll be the death of me yet.

Pairing: George Luz x Female OC

Word count: 11,003 (well goddamn)

Tone: Best friends to lovers, flirting/banter, postwar reunions, dancing around feelings, quite a lot of pining

Summary: He’s got an engagement ring and a reunion to attend—now all he needs is a real, live, not-so-genuine fiancée.

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world​ @thoughpoppiesblow​ @victoryrollsandredlips​ @now-im-a-belieber​ @50svibes​ @mgdln97​ @tina1938​ @drinkwhiskeyandsmile​ @ask-you-what-sir​ @indecisiveimpatience​ @whovian45810​ @brokennerdalert​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​ @onlyyouexisthere​

"You want me to pretend I'm your what?"

"My girl!"

"I still don't get it."

"My girl! My beau! My beloved!"

"Yeah, George, I understand that part, but why?"

"I need you to pretend to be my girl for the reunion this weekend," George Luz repeats patiently, then pouts when all he gets in response is a deepened frown. "Why are you lookin' at me like that?"

"Because-" Magdalena Saas splutters, flapping her hands in emphatic circles. "Because that's nuts! It's absurd! Totally asinine!"

"Really pulling out the thesaurus for that one, sweetheart."

She shoots him a dirty look, and his smile starts to drop.

"You really think it's a bad idea?"

"I think it's an awful idea, George, and there's no way in hell I'm going through with it."

He looks genuinely baffled.

"Now why would you say a thing like that?"

"Let me think." Maggie ticks off her impressions on her fingers. "First off, charades like this never work out the way you think they will. Secondly, everyone plus your mother knows you and I are just friends. And thirdly—well, thirdly, it's a lousy idea!"

"That's only two valid points," George declares. "The third's more of an unproven opinion."

"Well, isn't two enough?"

"I mean..."

Maggie's head falls back and hits the bedframe with a thunk. She's managed to avoid blushing up until now, when George sucks in a breath through his grimace and tucks his hand between her head and the hard wooden frame, his palm caressing her hair.

Thirdly, this is not at all the kind of proposal I wish I'd get from you—and for the cherry on top, you're clueless.

"Fine." 

"Fine?"

She crosses her arms and turns her head towards him, and just when he's thought he's won her over, she adds, "My third point is that you've clearly not thought this through."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"What if I prove you wrong?"

She sits up and squints at him. He flashes that lopsided grin she adores and she sighs, slouching again as she waves for him to go on.

"I'm listening."

"I've been thinking about this for two and a half weeks."

"And you're only just letting me in on your little scheme the day before?"

He waffles. "If I told you I kinda had to work up the nerve to ask, would you believe me?"

Seeing the crease of his brow and the sheepishness in his gaze, she glances aside, shushing the fluttering of her heart, and tells him she would.

"Good, 'cause it's true."

"Uh-huh. So what's your plan, anyway?"

"Huh?"

"If you really have been thinking about this for two and a half weeks, surely you've got some semblance of a plan."

"Yeah! Yeah, sure I do."

Maggie reaches over and taps his knee. "Then let's hear it."

"Well, to make it short and sweet—like you-"

"Of course, you had to go there."

"-you come with me to the reunion tomorrow, we pretend we're together, everybody is completely awed because they've never seen a more perfect couple-"

"Debatable."

"-and we go home happy and a little bit drunk after a night of fun!"

Maggie presses her lips together on one side of her face and thinks about what he's asking from her. On the surface, it's not much—pretend to be his girlfriend for four or five hours—but there's a lot she knows he probably hasn't considered. She loves George, but he's not the best with foresight. For one, it probably hasn't occurred to him that she's not going to know anyone there.

"But I will," he says happily when she brings this up, "and I'll introduce you to every single person there, if you want, and then you'll know everybody, and everybody will know—and adore—you."

"If you say so," she blusters. "Well—then what about getting there and back?"

"We'll take my car."

"Really? How close is this reunion?"

"A two-hour drive. One-and-a-half if we don't hit any traffic."

"Oh." This is a likable detail. "Alright, that's reasonable."

"I wouldn't be asking you if it wasn't."

She tries to be skeptical, but he's right. He's never asked anything of her he didn't think she could do. And this is the first ask she can think of that she's been hesitant to agree to.

"You do have a good track record," she admits, and he beams, knowing he's starting to win her over.

"Any other questions?"

"What's the expected attire for this thing? Am I good in jeans or should I wear a dress?"

"A dress," he answers, and she can tell he's being honest, not just picking and choosing what he himself would prefer. "As good as you look in those Levi's-"

"Stop looking at my ass."

"-it's a bit more of a formal event. Not suit and tie fancy, but button-up shirt for me and a dress or a skirt for you."

"Or a pantsuit?"

He grins. "Or a pantsuit."

"Hmm..." She pictures her wardrobe. "Yeah, I can work with that. Are we gonna be dancing?"

"All night long."

"My comfortable pumps it is, then."

"Pumps?" He scrunches up his face. "I don't think there's gonna be any tires that need inflating at the dance hall, sweetheart."

"It's a type of heel, darling."

"Oh." He laughs at himself. "Well, in that case, definitely go with the comfortable option."

"I mean..." She gestures to the pumps, sitting on a shoe rack across the room by the closet door. "They're a beat beaten up, I've had them for so long-"

"You think anybody's gonna be lookin' at your feet?"

He tickles her socked foot and she shrieks a laugh, careful not to move too sharply as she kicks his hand away. He grins and leans back against her bedframe, and when she tries to remember how they ended up sitting on the carpet like this instead of on her bed where the gin rummy game is still spread out, she can't remember.

"Are we talkin' a dinner party, or just dancing?"

"We usually go out to eat in a big group after everybody's tuckered out—usually, we get tired of poker, but this time, it'll be dancing, so my guess is we'll all get hungry quicker."

"And will there be drinking?"

"You know it."

Maggie laughs. "Well, you know me. So long as there's good beer, good company, and the potential for good food, I'm happy."

"Then I think you'll really enjoy yourself tomorrow."

"Only if I agree to this batshit crazy idea of yours."

"It's not that crazy," he insists, and though she knows he's probably right, she holds out a little longer.

"It's a little crazy."

"Yeah, maybe a little."

George adjusts his seated position, turning to look at her more fully, and Maggie half-wishes he hadn't—it's much easier to deny him when he's not mooning at her with those big brown eyes.

"There anything else you wanna know?"

Yeah—what am I supposed to do when we come home and I'm not yours anymore, because I never was yours, and probably won't ever be yours? What the hell am I supposed to tell my poor heart then?

She swallows back the premonition of regret and flashes a smile. 

"Nope. Not unless you've got more to tell me."

"Well, there is one more thing..."

Maggie sighs dramatically, tossing her hand upon her forehead. "Oh, will the demands ever end?"

He snorts a laugh. "It's just one thing. One relatively small thing. I think."

"Alright, spit it out. Do I have to wear a wig? Fake teeth? Dye my eyebrows blonde?"

"What? No." He shakes his head as if clearing a startling image. "We gotta get engaged."

"What?"

George laughs, but she can tell he's nervous, very nervous, and she gets the sense he thinks she'll rescind her agreement now that this particular detail is out in the open.

"When I told the fellas, I may or may not have boasted about, um, my girl. A lot. And then Guarnere—love the guy, but he likes to run his mouth—started blabbin' about how he didn't believe me, and I just sorta blurted it out, and that got them impressed, so I ran with the bit, and now..." A sheepish smile is paired with a shrug. "They wanna meet my fiancée."

Maggie sighs yet again and pinches the upper bridge of her nose.

"Oh, George, darling George, what am I ever going to do with you?"

"Marry me?" His cheeks pinken. "I mean, only hypothetically, for this very specific event, and maybe for the next time you pretend to be my girl-"

"The next time?!"

"Forget I said that!" He gulps, studying her expression with wide eyes. "Well? Will you still go with me?"

Maggie considers. She could get something out of this, make a deal of it. She deserves something in return, really, for all the heartbreak this is no doubt going to cause her. After a moment's more thought, she nods, just once, and George beams.

"I'll do it on one condition."

He flashes those puppy-dog eyes and Maggie wonders for a moment if she should do this simply because she loves him.

That's exactly why you shouldn't be doing this, you cretin.

"Yeah? What is it?"

She squints at her best friend, then tosses her hair, feigning ignorance.

"I get to be the best woman at your actual wedding."

George seems relieved. "Oh, thank God."

Maggie gives him a curious look. "What did you think I was gonna say?"

"No idea," he laughs, "I'm just glad you picked that. I mean, you're a shoo-in for the position anyway-"

"Then maybe I oughta ask for something else."

"No, no, that's perfect," he says, laughing anxiously. 

"Too late! I've changed my mind."

"I just had to run my mouth, didn't I?" He tugs at his ear. "So... what else?"

"It's... a secret."

He gapes at her, and she reaches out and shuts his mouth with her thumb and forefinger on his chin. She almost believes it when he swoons, and she leans back, rolling her eyes.

"Alright, Drama Queen, you've had your fun."

"I'll grant you your wish," he swears, rolling around to kneel before her. "Anything you want, my dearest Magdalena, is yours."

"Oh, yeah? Anything?"

"Anything."

"I wish you would find yourself a real fiancée instead of roping me into your bullshit."

George grimaces. "Okay, I can grant any wish except for that."

"Damnit." She scrunches up her nose. "Um..."

His smile turns into a smirk. "You don't actually know what you want from me, do you?"

I do, actually, but it's something I don't think you'd give.

"I do," she bluffs, "but I'll keep it a secret until the morning after we get back. Then you'll really squirm."

"Oh, yeah. Lots of squirming to be had right here."

"Shut up," she groans, then pushes at his arm when his smirk grows "Hey, watch it, buster, I could still change my mind. If I want to keep my payment secret—don't look at me like that, you know I don't want your money—then that's my prerogative."

"Fine, fine—but you'll do it? You'll go with me? As my fiancée?"

Rationally, she knows it's not for real, but when he looks at her like that, asking her to be his...

Don't think about it too much.

Too late. Her heart skips a beat.

"...Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes, I'll go with you. As your... fake fiancée." 

"Yes!"

George throws his hands up, then grabs her face and plants a wet kiss on her nose. Maggie makes a face and rubs her sleeve across her face, but George is beaming so wide she can't help a small smile of her own.

"Oh—and you're driving."

Her best friend stops his preemptive celebration to pout. 

"But Maggie-"

"Here we go."

"-all the guys'll be drinking, and it's a reunion, I can't just pass up a party-"

"Fine. You're driving on the way there."

"Yes!" he hisses through his toothy smile, pumping the air with his fist. "You're the best, you know that, Mags?"

She sighs, but lets him wrap his arm around her and kiss the top of her head regardless.

"Yeah, yeah. Just put on a ring on it and let's get back to gin rummy."

"Alrighty, I will."

He produces a small velvet box from his back pocket, and Maggie has to stare at it for a solid four or five seconds before she believes it's actually real.

"Sweetheart?"

She rolls her eyes to hide how her heart has started skipping all around her chest and holds out her left hand almost flippantly.

"You really have been planning this for a while, haven't you?"

"Two-and-a-half weeks."

"How'd you know my ring size?" she starts to ask, surprised that it fits so well, but he interrupts, rambling the way he does when he gets excited.

"Well, now that we've made that decision, we gotta figure out what you're wearin'! Not that you don't always look pretty, but I wanna make you the star o' the show, y'know? Everybody's gonna be so jealous o' me, sweetheart, just you wait..."

As Maggie watches George pick through her dresses and blouses and two pairs of work overalls she hasn't worn in a month, she leans her head against her hand and wonders what on earth she's gotten herself into. The metal of the ring on her finger presses to her temple, a stark reminder that the stakes for this are high.

And I bet they'll just keep getting higher.

"You know, you've got two—three—of the same dress in here. Different colors, same cut."

"Yes, I do know. It's my closet, smartass."

She moves her hand in front of her face and examines the ring while he's got his back turned to her. It's a silver band with an inlaid sapphire. Nothing too fancy, but certainly elegant. It's beautiful. It's perfect.

"Do you prefer blue or brown?"

"What?"

"For the dress. Blue or brown?"

Lifting the ring to her face, watching the sapphire twinkle in the orange-tinted light of her bedroom lamp, she can't conceal a small, giddy smile.

"Definitely blue."

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

"Why did I let you talk me into this?"

George puts the car into park and leans over the side of the seat, his signature, surefire grin flashing across his face.

"That is not a very reassuring look."

He attempts a sympathetic pout, but when he bats his eyes at her with those downturned lips, he resembles a basset hound so sufficiently that she snorts a laugh.

"Now you just look extremely regretful."

He tries again, emphasizing the pout, and Maggie starts giggling (and it's only half from nerves).

"George Luz, you are the picture of remorse."

"Ah, but I made you laugh," he says, smiling again. "You wanna head inside?"

She hesitates, and though she tries not to look down at her hand, feeling the ring where it has hugged her third finger ever since last night (she didn't have the heart to part from it even while sleeping), she does. Softening, George reaches across the gearbox and lays his hand on Maggie's knee. She draws her lips between her teeth and pretends she’s hardly noticed the feeling of his palm against her skin.

"This is gonna be great," he vows. "It's you, me, all my buddies, and all their girls—good people, remember? And good beer, or so Perconte promises. And dancing! You like dancing."

"Yep," she chortles weakly, swinging her fist across her chest, "I do love me a good shindig."

George pauses, then squeezes her knee, his thumb brushing a little higher up her thigh. Maggie almost squeaks but manages to catch the sound behind her teeth.

"You know what we're gonna do, Mags?"

"What?" She coughs lightly into her fist. "What are we gonna do, George?"

"We're gonna dance a whole lot, so you won't hafta talk much if you don't want to."

A smile creeps onto Maggie's lips, and as she pats George's hand where it remains on her leg, she fails to notice the relief that sags his shoulders when he sees she’s relaxing.

"It's not all the people that's got me nervous," she admits. "It's... Well, it's that I'm afraid I won't play the part right."

"Pfff," he scoffs, fondly wrinkling his nose up at her. "People'll take one look at us and go 'Yup. That's George and Maggie. Always have been, always will be'."

"You think so?"

"Sweetheart, I know so."

They share a smile that lasts a bit too long for friends (but just right for the relationship they're supposed to have) until a bird flying straight past their windshield startles them and they look away, laughing awkwardly. They get out of the car. On one side, George locks the doors and takes a deep breath. He can't let it on, but he's starting to have doubts about this ruse—is one afternoon of pretending worth the sting of tomorrow, when they'll go back to how they really are and laugh about this later? He's not so sure anymore. On the other side of the car, Maggie straightens her blue dress and looks up at the four o'clock sun with a smile, her confidence revived, oblivious to George's fresh uncertainty.

"Ready to go, sweetheart?"

He offers her his arm and she gladly takes it.

"Ready as I'll ever be, darling."

Once the excitement of their arrival has subsided (Maggie is unsurprised to learn George is very popular among his former Company), George takes her up beside him and grins at the friends who've come up to greet him first.

"Fellas," he announces, "I'd like you to meet my gorgeous fiancée." 

He turns and shows her off on his arm, proud as a peacock, and for all the ridiculousness of their ruse, Maggie can't deny she feels rather special with him going on like this. 

"This is Ms. Magdalena Saas-"

"Call me Maggie."

"-soon to be Mrs. Magdalena Luz. Can you imagine that?"

"Yeah, Luz, that's usually how matrimony works," teases a friendly face out of the already amicable crowd. He takes George's hand to shake, then Maggie's. "Harry Welsh. Great to meet you, at last, Maggie. Luz here hasn't stopped talking about you for weeks—not that I'm any better about my own wife."

Flustered stupid, Maggie can only nod and blurt out a meek, "Oh?"

"Oh, yeah. Every time I call, it's Mags this and Maggie that." He chuckles. "I think he talks about you more than I talk about Kitty."

"Now that's saying something."

A smart young woman with a brilliant smile has appeared; she beams at Maggie, brightening up visibly when Welsh wraps his arm around her.

"I'm Kitty."

"I figured."

As they shake hands, Kitty laughs. "You do seem like a good fit for George—at least, from the stories Harry's told me."

"Better than good!" George declares, and the mystery of his sudden disappearance is solved when he hands Maggie one of the two beers in his hands. "She's absolutely perfect."

Maggie can feel her face heating up. Luckily, before she's forced to make a witty quip to deflect what she takes for a lie, Harry makes a face and jokes a complaint at George.

"Hey, what about my beer?"

"And mine?" Kitty laughs.

"I'm goin', I'm goin'," George laughs, waving off their teasing. "You stay put, Mags, I'll be right back."

He leaves them again, but not without planting a quick kiss on Maggie's knuckles, the left hand that blatantly bears his ring. She can feel her face heating up. Not for the first nor the last time tonight, she wonders if she's made an irrevocable mistake in agreeing to this mad plot. George gets a fiancée and points with his friends out of it, and she gets—what? A place at his side at his wedding to another woman and the whatever-it-is she's calling a secret but can't even decide for herself. Her throat gets tight, but she swears she won't cry, not until she's home and alone and this unreal night is over.

"Maggie, was it?"

It's Kitty, looking at her with growing concern. 

"Sorry if I'm being nosy, but are you feeling alright?"

Maggie shifts on her feet, wishing she had pockets or a handbag or really any place to put her hands. She fiddles with her fingers and averts Kitty's well-meaning smile.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine."

"You sure? That's the same kind o' shifty-eyes bullshit-"

"Harry."

"Sorry, love. The same kind of shifty-eyes nonsense I pull when I'm not feeling well." Welsh frowns. "Come to speak of it, I usually come down with a cold this time of year..."

"Oh, no-" Maggie forces a laugh. "-I'm in good health."

But are you heartsick? Kitty asks with her eyes, and as much as Maggie wishes she could hide it, she's never been much good at camouflaging her heart. Just as she's about to mutter some excuse and run away to sit in the car until the reunion is over, George resurfaces. Once he's passed along the second pair of beers to his friends, he wraps his arm around her waist and tucks her against his side as if she belongs there. After a beat, she relaxes, reminding herself who she's doing this for.

"Hope you didn't miss me too long," George says, and when he steals a fleeting kiss on her cheek, he scans her gaze to make sure she approves. She puts on a smile and nudges his shoulder with her own, and his smile grows just enough for her to relax.

"Miss you?" She turns to Kitty and laughs. "I couldn't get rid of him if I tried."

She giggles. "He does seem rather attached."

"Hey," George pretends to complain, "I brought you a beer!"

Maggie giggles. "Oh, darling, you know I'm just as bad about you."

He looks astonished, and Kitty and Harry both laugh, not knowing how she has offered this confession like it's a known fact. George puts on a smirk and winks at his 'fiancée', who doesn't have to fake the blush his affection brings to her cheeks.

"That's right. Who could ever get enough of the one and only George Luz?"

He tickles her waist with the arm he's got around her, and as she almost spills her beer laughing, she has to remind herself he is her best friend and nothing more, no matter how affectionate he is tonight.

"Oh, stop it, you," she protests, pressing herself against his side to get away from his wicked fingers, and he grins.

"You know you love me."

"Uh-huh."

She expects him to drop the matter, but he persists.

"What? You mean to say you don't?"

"Oh, brother. Here we go again."

"Stop the party, there's been a murder—of my heart!"

"Kitty, S.O.S."

Kitty, who has been laughing this whole while, sobers herself up enough to pat Maggie sympathetically on the shoulder and then promptly lapses back into laughter.

"Harry, are you hearing this?" George gasps, clutching his beer to his chest and almost spilling it down his shirt.

"Loud and clear."

"She's trying to turn Kitty against us!"

"You are such a drama queen."

Maggie grins and tips her hand at Welsh. "Thank you. Agreed."

George sighs and droops his head, sipping forlornly at his beer until Maggie gives him a pitying look and nudges a kiss onto his cheek. He lifts his chin and sniffles.

"I hope you know that I, at least, love you."

"I love you, too, George."

Pretending not to mean it is difficult, and when his grin finally returns in full force, she has to look away lest he realizes the truth to her words—or, worse, he gets the idea to confirm their played-up affections with a real kiss. Hiding in her beer, she listens to George chat with Harry about this and that for a minute more before they part ways, her and George going to meet other friends while Kitty and her beau try to find a spot at the packed bar.

"You think they bought it?"

Maggie's smile flickers, but she nudges George's arm and scrunches up her nose at him playfully. "Of course, they did. We're two peas in a pod, you and I."

He beams. "Yup. We go together like peanut butter and jelly."

"Sunshine and summer!"

"Rainstorms and cuddles!"

Maggie laughs. "I dunno about that last one..."

"Pfff." He loops his arm around hers as they walk. "The only good thing to do on a rainy day is cuddle up with blankets and popcorn and a good movie—and especially with good company, if you've got it."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." He shoots her a smile a bit fonder than she expects it to be. "Next time it rains, I'll be sure to call you up."

Maybe this time it's not so unwarranted when her heart gives a tremble.

"I'll bring cookies."

"And I'll pick the movie?"

She quirks a brow. "Just so long as it's not Seven Sinners again."

"What, you didn't like it? I mean, I've only seen it fourteen times, I could go for one more."

"Fourteen?! You've really seen it fourteen times?!"

"Sure have." A cheeky grin. "Viewing number fourteen was with you. And I, for one, wouldn't be opposed if you were there to make it fifteen..."

"Jesus Christ Almighty." Maggie shakes her head. "Watch it again on your own rainy day time, not on mine."

He snorts a laugh. "Oh, fine."

"But hey, if you're gonna watch Meet Me in St. Louis again—don't watch it without me!"

"Wouldn't dream of it, love."

Before she can wrap her head around the new pet name, he's started cheering a name, and he drops her arm (not unkindly) to embrace a trio of men who are all grinning to see him.

"If it ain't George Luz!"

"Babe Heffron! How you been?"

"Good, good. Bill and I joined a pool team." Heffron wiggles his auburn eyebrows. "You oughta see us on a good night—we rock the damn house!"

"Yeah, playin' with my techniques," grumbles another who's grinning just as much as smirking. "Still never got that game from you, Luz."

"That's 'cause I beat you at darts one too many times and you never wanted to play me in anything again, Johnny."

The group howls with laughter, and just when Maggie thinks now would be a good time to slip away and maybe find Kitty again (or a stiffer drink), George steps back and takes her hand.

"Fellas, this is the love o' my life," he says, and when he stumbles on the last word as if realizing what he's just said, Maggie doesn't notice, too caught up in the second use of 'love' in reference to her over the last few minutes. "'Member when I told you 'bout my fiancée back at that poker night last month? I know you couldn't make it, Malark, but I bet one o' these two fools mentioned it sometime."

"Johnny did," chuckles the second ginger of the trio. "Said you talked about her the whole night."

George grins. "Sure did. Drunk and sober."

As the other two grin, remembering the circumstance likewise, Maggie finds the courage to step forward and offer her hand. She means to shake and introduce herself, but her left hand is her dominant, and all eyes go to the ring. The one George has called Malark lets out a low whistle as they all crowd around.

"That is one helluva ring."

"That's a sapphire, right? Pretty."

"You musta saved up for months for that, Luz."

Maggie draws her hand back, self-conscious, only to realize what they're saying is not just complimentary but their honest revelations. Her face feels warm. She thought the ring was just a costume piece George had bought or borrowed from a friend in the theater business (of whom he has many). Knowing he went out of his way to buy a real genuine engagement ring for her—well, for tonight—has her feeling all kinds of ways—but no, she ought to focus, not break the facade. While she's been reeling, George has been telling the story of where he got the ring, and though she regrets missing most of it, she catches the last bit about seeing the ring in a shop in New York City and knowing it was perfect for her. Malark whistles a second time and (perhaps a little belatedly) extends his hand to shake. Maggie, embarrassed enough as it is, almost blurts out an apology when the ring in all its glory grazes his skin.

"Donald Malarkey, ma'am," he says without batting an eye. "Pleasure to meet you."

The other two echo the sentiment (while looking her up and down appreciatively) and she repeats it back to them as she learns their names. Malarkey's fellow redhead is Edward Heffron, who they all call Babe—"'Cept for my girlfriend, funny enough."—while the man with the perpetual smirk to his smile is John Martin.

“Admire while you can, gentleman," George encourages, squeezing Maggie's hand where he still holds it between them. "You'll never see such a beautiful woman again."

Maggie has to put her beer down on the nearest table before she sips at the wrong time and chokes on it. 

"George!"

"What? It's true."

"It is most certainly not true."

Maggie swats his shoulder harder than she means to, but his smile doesn't even falter and he grabs her hand to kiss the finger with his ring on it.

"Says who? Says you? 'Cause if so, you are very wrong, like super-duper levels of wrong-"

"George!"

"Mags!" He bats his big, brown eyes at her, and she melts. "Can't I be proud of my girl, too?"

"He sure can—and should."

"Bull!"

A tall, broad man with a cigar perched in his crooked smile shakes George's hand heartily, then does the same to Maggie, adding a kiss to her cheek for good measure.

"Pleasure, ma'am," drawls the tall man. "Denver Randleman, at your service."

"Charmer," George grumbles, wrapping his arm around Maggie's back, and she wonders for half a second if he's jealous.

"It's a good thing I like the charmers," she teases him, testing the waters, and when his brow bends down, she hurriedly adds, "I wouldn't be marrying you if I didn't."

Immediately, the frown is gone. He lights up like the star map in her living room, the one he nearly knocked over just a few hours ago when he burst into her house with a dozen roses and a cheery promise that he'd make tonight worth it. For the most part, he's lived up to that pledge.

"Marrying him!" Malarkey whistles for the third time that night. "Never thought I'd see the day."

"What?" Maggie chortles. "Did he used to be a- a playboy, or something?"

 Heffron bursts into laughter, and George, a little disgruntled, pushes him into Martin. They have a brief joking spat before tuning back in to what Malarkey's been saying about George.

"-was a bit of a flirt, sure, but honestly? I thought it would take longer for him to find somebody who lived up to his expectations."

"Oh, yeah?"

"He's really a hopeless romantic," Malark goes on, oblivious to the squinted, disapproving look he's currently receiving from George. "But hey, so am I." He raises his glass. "To love!"

"To love!"

They all drink, George and Maggie a bit more than the rest for the same undisclosed reason.

"And thank God he tripped over you," Heffron jibes, nodding to the sapphire on Maggie's finger. "You're a saint for takin' him off our hands."

George grumbles a retort, but then Maggie kisses his cheek, and all his discontentment vanishes in an instant. It doesn't go unnoticed by either of them that this is the first time she's been the one to initiate physical affection tonight. George hands his beer to Heffron and fans himself with his hand, spouting nonsense about how hot she is until she takes him by the arm and drags him away to—as she excuses to his friends—"find a better use for his stamina on the dance floor".

"My beer!"

Grinning, Heffron raises it in a toast and takes a sip—it's his beer now. George pouts, but the look lifts when Maggie bumps his hip with her own.

"You can have mine," she laughs, picking it up off the table, "just stop gushing about how great I am!"

He scoffs. "Now why would I do that?"

"Because, um..."

They've found a spot on the edge of the dance floor, but they can't go out there with the beer still in hand, so they trade it back and forth as they talk.

"Because?" He prompts, his smile turning a little devilish. "You can't even think of a reason."

Maggie makes a face. "I do have a reason."

"Then what it is?"

Passing back the glass as it quickly empties, she leans in and whispers in his ear, coming up with an excuse on the spot. 

"Think of how many guys have brought their girlfriends and wives here."

"So?" 

"You don't wanna offend anybody by saying rash things like that. I certainly don't wanna offend anybody."

"By bein' your pretty self?"

"George," she murmurs, but she's blushing, and there's no hiding it from him.

"Hey, I'm not the outlier here." He nods toward a couple across the room, raising his voice. "Look, Bill's over there showin' off his wife."

The man George refers to is standing with a crutch on one arm and a very pretty, very pregnant woman on the other. Maggie hums under her breath.

"Wow, they sure didn't waste any time once he got home."

George chokes on his beer. Stifling his laughter into snorts as Maggie rubs his back, trying to coax the breath back into him, he gasps, "Guess not."

"Heya."

Malarkey, along with Heffron, has followed them over after a detour to the bar. He glances between the pair, a brow quirked amusedly. 

"What'd I miss?"

"They're flirtin', ya dingus," Heffron reprimands jokingly. "Leave 'em alone."

Maggie's face suddenly feels hot. George sighs, leaning close to whisper a reassuring joke in her ear that's meant for her and her alone. When his breath tickles her ear and she shivers, she wonders if there is some universe where this isn't a charade and he feels a chill when she comes so near. She giggles belatedly, and Malarkey chuckles, sipping at his drink.

"Say, how'd the two of you meet? From what I heard, they tried coaxing it outta Luz the last time some o' the guys met up for poker, but no dice."

"It's not a very remarkable story," Maggie deflects bashfully, and George pouts.

"Aw, c'mon. It's remarkable to me, sweetheart."

"Sorry, darling-" Without thinking much about the familiarity of the action, she draws her thumb across his upper lip, ridding it of a thin layer of foam. "-I guess it is a little bit remarkable."

He beams and pleasantly surprises Maggie when he holds her closer, practically hip-to-hip, his arm snug around her back.

"You know, you really were the talk o' the night." Martin quirks a slight smile. "All good things, of course. 'Luz's wonderful fiancée' and all."

"Of course," Maggie gasps, baffled, and when George kisses her cheek, she turns to him beseechingly. He pats her hand and turns to his buddies with his typical grin.

"We met at Cape Cod last summer, on the beach."

"Right," Maggie breathes. "I remember it like it was yesterday."

Heffron, along with the others, grins. "Yeah? Do tell."

"It was about a year ago—last June."

Maggie glances at George, hoping he'll let her take charge of this lie of theirs for just a minute, just for the part that is completely true. He seems happy to oblige, his smile widening as he nods for her to go on.

"It was a very hot day, so I was out with some friends on the beach. I'd just come in from the water—I like to surf, see—and I was just getting ready to sunbathe when darling George here-" She jostles her pretend beau a little, pleased when it makes him laugh. "-was running to catch a baseball and tripped right over me."

"He what?" Malarkey gasps as Heffron throws his head back in laughter. 

“When I said you tripped over her, I didn’t actually mean it, Luz!"

Malarkey’s laughing now, too. "I knew you were clumsy, George, but holy hell!"

George hits his arm in a friendly punch, mumbling that his balance is just fine, thank-you-very-much, but when he looks back at Maggie, there's an affection creeping into his gaze that surprises her. Sure, they're friends, and they've been friends for a while, but he's looking at her with the kind of tenderness she'd expect him to show to—

To someone he really does want to see walking down the aisle to him one day.

"What can I say?" George quips, taking over when he sees Maggie has hit a standstill. "The minute I saw her-" He lays his hand over his heart. "-I fell."

Malarkey, Heffron, and a newly resurgent Bull Randleman all groan, but when Maggie laughs, they light up with smiles fonder than she expects.

"Wow. Somehow, Luz, you've managed to find the one person who actually laughs at your crummy jokes."

"They're not crummy," George and Maggie chorus, and Malarkey and Heffron share a grin.

"Uh-huh."

"They're not!" George insists with Maggie nodding right along, glancing up and down his face while he's too indignant to notice.

"Fine, they ain't crummy," Heffron concedes. "But hey—what happened next?"

"I took one look at her and told her I was gonna marry her someday."

Maggie can't help a laugh. "I think it went more like 'Sorry for tripping over you, can I marry you? Today?'"

Even Randleman rumbles a laugh.

"And what did you say?"

"No," Maggie admits, stifling her own amusement. "I said no."

"I'm pretty sure you hesitated," George insists, trying to maintain some of his dignity, and though Maggie shrugs mildly, willing to accept this, Heffron is apparently not.

"You sure it ain't 'cause you were helpin' her to her feet after knockin' her clean over?"

Malarkey jumps in on the action. "And then the first thing you said to her was 'sorry, marry me now'—jeez, Maggie, your head must've been spinning."

"It was," she giggles.

"If I'm hearin' this right-" Even Bull inputs his two cents. "-sounds like you were still strangers at that point."

"We were."

"But now," George interrupts, reclaiming the floor, "we're not. In fact-" He wiggles his ring finger as if it's Maggie's, grinning like this story really is the beginning of a happily ever after. "-we're engaged!"

"And congratulations for that!" Malarkey exclaims, beaming. "Say, would you mind if I took your girl for a spin on the dance floor, Luz?" He nods at Maggie. "If you want to, of course."

"Yeah, alright," she agrees, and George echoes the phrase, though a little more breezily than she would have expected. She gives her hand to Malarkey and they step out onto the dance floor, joining the multitude of veterans and their beloveds already two-stepping the night away.

"You sure can dance!"

As her partner twirls her, Maggie laughs. "Thanks! So can you!"

"You think so?"

"Yeah!"

"I'm glad!" He nods over at the other side of the dance floor. "I'm tryin' to catch the eye of the girl behind the bar over there, and my buddy Perconte—he lives kinda local—told me she likes to dance, so..."

"You want me to help you look good?"

Malarkey shrugs, too sheepish to confirm it, and Maggie grins.

"Any friend of George's is a friend of mine!" She clicks her heels, takes his hand, and kicks their dancing up a notch. "All you had to do was ask."

They jitterbug and jive out on the dance floor for a good ten minutes. About halfway through, Maggie twirls Malarkey three times and mutters in his ear with each pass that the pretty girl from the bar is looking their way. He straightens up, shoots her a grin, and dances some of the best swing Maggie has seen in years—not that she would give up George as her permanent dance partner for the world. They even get a small round of applause when the song on the radio trumpets its last riffs, and Maggie pushes at Malarkey until he takes a small bow. In return, he has her curtsy, and when she looks up, her cheeks warm, the first thing she sees is George looking at her from a dart game he doesn't seem all that involved in. There's a gap in the crowd that fills in an instant, but the look on his face has her heading for him immediately.

"Are ya winnin', champ?" she teases, coming to hang nonchalantly off his arm, and he gives her a crooked grin.

"'Course, I am."

A man Maggie doesn't yet recognize lands a perfect shot, and amidst the cheering of other onlookers, he turns to the pair, grinning.

"That'll be one lovely pack o' smokes, Luz."

"Damnit."

Maggie snickers as George puts down his beer to free one hand, and he wrinkles his nose up at her. She kisses the corner of his mouth and he beams until his darts opponent clears his throat.

"Aw, c'mon, Buck, didn't we used to play together?"

"Yeah," Buck chuckles, "used to." He takes his tan cap, the words 101st Airborne emblazoned in white on the front panel, and tips it at Maggie. "Evening, ma'am."

"'Evening, ma'am'," George mimics, fishing the cigarettes out of his pocket, and Maggie laughs as he hands over the goods.

"I'll reimburse you."

He waves her off. "Nah, you don't hafta-"

"Shh," she says, perking up, and when he follows her gaze over to the bar, he tenses up.

"Malarkey? What about 'im?"

"Just watch."

George's shoulders are still stiff, but he complies, and together, they spectate as Malarkey leans on the counter, stalling the pretty bartender. She seems interested, glancing him up and down, and when he jabs his thumb back toward the dance floor, Maggie grabs George's hand and squeezes. 

"What-"

"For good luck."

George goes quiet, leaving Maggie unaware that the thought of his mere self being a sort of good luck charm to her has left him in a real tizzy.

The bartender Malarkey is flirting with glances over his shoulder at the dancers, then back at his smiling face. Maggie squeezes George's hand a second time.

"Moment of truth."

After a beat, the woman sets aside the glass she's been wiping with a dishrag and starts to nod, a smile creeping onto her lips. Maggie doesn't realize she's grinning twice as wide until she looks back at George and sees him visibly ease, uttering a laugh that betrays his relief.

"Didn't think you'd be playing matchmaker tonight, sweetheart."

"And I didn't think we'd be so good at being engaged, so what's the bigger surprise here, darling?"

He blinks at her, whatever tease he'd been about to toss back dying on his lips, and her cheeks heat up.

"Forget I said that."

"Yeah, nope."

"George-"

"Absolutely not forgetting that." His grin is infectious. "You're right, sweetheart, we are excellent at being engaged."

Maggie is still embarrassed, but as he holds her by the hips and sways her a little, her own lips start to turn back up.

"I guess we really do go together well."

"A little too well." His mouth turns up on one side, but his usual confidence is missing from the look, and it catches Maggie's attention. "You know, for a minute there, I was a little afraid Malark was gonna steal you away from me."

She laughs lightly. "Who, little old me? I'm lucky as hell I somehow managed to get you, George, no way I'd leave you in the dust like that. Besides-" She wiggles the fingers on her left hand. "-I'm clearly quite committed."

He doesn't banter back as she expects; in fact, he's fallen completely silent. The seconds pass and her cheeks heat up as he just stares at her, the beer in his hand dripping condensation down his wrist, all but forgotten.

"Don't talk like that," he says quietly, and she glances aside, chuckling awkwardly as she reaches for a counter napkin.

"Right, right, sorry. This isn’t real." She pats his wrist dry. "Where'd you-"

"No, not that."

"What?" She looks between his damp skin and the napkin, confused. "Did you... want your hand to be wet?"

"No, no-" He shakes his head, but she only glances up briefly. "-don't talk like that about you being lucky."

Maggie eases, laughing gently. "Why? I meant it. There ain't nobody out there like my George Luz."

He quirks a small smile, but it's fleeting, and she realizes she's misunderstood him again.

"Thanks, love-" He's frowning, and it makes her sad. "-but it's the 'somehow managed to get me' bit that I'm stuck on."

"... Yeah, I kinda figured that out as you were sayin' it."

"It's not true, Mags. There's no 'somehow' in there. You-"

"Didn't really get you," she reminds him for her own sake more than his, forced to check her overeager heart. "But, uh..." 

"What?"

"Well, to tell you the truth, you're kind of the only guy who talks to me... on a regular basis." She clears her throat. "Who's my friend, I mean."

"That's stupid."

"That you're my friend?"

"That men aren't falling over themselves for you like you deserve."

There's such righteousness in his gaze when she meets it that she can't help but blush and stumble over her words. He takes this as if he's said something wrong and sighs, looking away. After a beat of uncomfortable silence, he turns back to her with a smile plastered on his face and downs the rest of his beer in an impressive swig.

"Wanna hit the dance floor with me?"

She can tell he's faking his enthusiasm, but she matches it, taking his hand when it is offered and letting him lead the way.

"Hey, George?" she asks as he finds them a spot on the edge of the floor, not far from where Malarkey and his pretty bartender are dancing with stars in their eyes.

"Yeah?"

She lifts up her hand only to discover it's still holding George's. They share a brief laugh as they find a rhythm in the music.

"Where did you get this ring, anyway? Was it really in New York City?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

He's distracted by something, but what, she can't tell. As they keep dancing and he trips over his feet more often than usual—noticeably so—she starts to worry. Then he almost knocks over another couple and she drags him off the dance floor, brushing off his apologies for windmilling his arms like that.

"I don't know what's gotten into me tonight," he says, and though she can tell it's a lie to make her worry less, she pretends to believe him, only worrying more.

"That's alright—I think I've had enough dancing for now," she replies, pretending she's tuckered out, and he nods, quickly leading her away from the epicenter of the music and chatter. They find a table near the back, one of the only empty ones, and when she sits down, kicking up her feet, she's not surprised that he doesn't join her.

"Why don't you go socialize?" she suggests, deciding that must be what's on his mind.

"You sure?"

"These are your people. Go make 'em realize just how much they've missed ya." A smile as she reaches up and pats his cheek. "You're a real hoot, George Luz. Life o' the party."

He's smiling again, but still, he hesitates. 

"I don't want to just leave you here."

She laughs. "I think me and my aching feet will survive."

A wince. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be." Sincere, her smile grows. "Really, you should go talk to people. That's what we're here for, George—not for this song-and-dance with you and me but for you to catch up with your buddies."

Finally, he gives in, his smile growing where he had not before allowed it to. He leans down, kisses her right on her lips, and as he steps back, he tugs fondly at a loose curl by her ear.

"Thanks, love."

He's gone into the crowd before either of them has realized what he's just done wasn't supposed to happen, and Maggie's startled gasp almost makes her fall backward, chair and all. Kitty Welsh—savior that she is—steadies her and pulls up a chair, but Maggie is so bewildered that she hardly registers Kitty's teasing greeting.

"Hello? Maggie? You with us?" Kitty frowns. "Frannie, did you happen to catch how much this dear's had to drink?"

The very pretty, very pregnant woman that Maggie recognizes as Bill's wife huffs as she lowers herself into the next available seat. "Nope," she replies once she's settled in, "but I know drunk, and pretty Miss Dazed here ain't drunk."

"He kissed me."

Kitty and Bill's wife—Frannie, her name's Frannie—share a look.

"Yeah, honey—is that... unusual?"

"Well, I mean, we're engaged... I just can't believe it."

"Ah." Kitty relaxes. "Young love." 

Frannie rubs Maggie's shoulder, and it's quite soothing, enough so that Maggie snaps out of her shock.

"You're still in the honeymoon phase, aren't ya, sweetcheeks?" Frannie supposes. "Still can't believe you got that happy ending?"

"Yeah," Maggie sighs happily, using the better part of her willpower to keep herself composed and play along with their assumptions. "Yeah, that's about right."

Kitty's smile grows. "That's sweet. You really love him, huh?"

"I do. I really do."

It's such a relief to admit it after all this time that the admission comes out louder than Maggie means it to. She covers her mouth and giggles when the two wives fondly echo the sentiment for their own husbands.

"Bill's a handful, but he's my handful." Frannie giggles. "Not that I'm an angel, either."

"Oh, hush. You're better than he deserves."

"Kitty!" Frannie playfully swats her friend's arm. "What if I said that about you and Harry?"

"Then you'd be wrong."

Frannie rolls her eyes. "No justice for the wed."

"She's married, too," Maggie points out, nodding to Kitty, and Frannie lets out a booming laugh that has her husband grinning broadly at her from all the way across the room.

"I knew I'd like you, sweetcheeks." A small smirk as she reaches over and pats Maggie's hand, the one with the ring on it. "I think you'll enjoy married life."

"Oh, and speaking of," Kitty chimes in, "congratulations!"

"Oh—oh, thank you."

Both women are now beaming at her, and Maggie isn't sure how she manages to keep her chin up and pretend she's really one of them.

"When's the wedding?"

"It's, uh..."

"Late October."

"George!" Maggie clasps her hand to her chest, playing off the shock he's given her as a joke. "I thought you were mingling."

"Yeah, I was, but I missed you."

She blushes, and Kitty and Frannie share a knowing look.

"Well, we'll leave you to it."

They get up and start to leave, and Maggie isn't sure she wants them to. She can't find it in herself to say so, though, so she faces her heart—otherwise known as George Luz—and acts as if he left her with his usual smile and not a very unusual kiss.

"You didn't have to come back so soon-"

She gives a start as soon as she looks up.

"George, what's the matter?"

"Matter?"

"You've gone pale."

"Oh." He glances to and fro. "I... I think I need some air."

She's seen this before. Sometimes the memories from the war will hit him out of nowhere and Mr. Life of the Party will need a minute to himself. She's not surprised it's happened here, with all his buddies from the service, so when he looks at her imploringly, she takes him by the hand and scans the venue for the closest exit.

"Alright. Let's go get some air."

He heads for the back door, and though she tries to tell him it only leads to an alleyway, her words fall on deaf ears. She squeezes his hand, trying to remind him she's right here by his side, where she'll always be, no matter what, even when it hurts to know she can't promise him any of that out loud. He knows she cares, right? She wouldn't be here with him tonight, with this beautiful, damning ring on her finger, if she didn't care.

She just hopes he doesn't see all the way through her. No coming back from that.

The door hasn't finished shutting behind them when George drops Maggie's hand. He leaves her on the stoop, crossing the few short strides to the opposite wall of the alleyway. He leans against the tattered bricks, crosses his arms, and takes a few slow breaths. Patient, she sits down and waits for him to ask anything of her, anything at all.

"God, this was a terrible idea."

She knows what he means as soon as the words are out of his mouth. It still doesn't lessen the sting—but there's no shock to the admission. After a few seconds of waiting for him to go on, maybe to take it back, she leans her elbows on her knees and sighs.

"If it helps at all, I was kind of expecting this to happen."

"Expecting what to happen?"

"You to figure out you didn't want... this." A faint chuckle. "I mean, it was your idea, but sometimes impulsive things like this-"

"Impulsive?"

"Yeah. Impulsive."

"No."

"No?"

"Seven months and one day."

This timespan does not ring a bell anywhere in her memory. She looks up at him, her confusion evident in her expression. He's still leaning on the brick wall, but he's straightened up, and the color is returning to his face.

"Sorry?"

"Seven months and one day. That's how long I've had the ring."

"... Okay?"

She blinks. If there are dots to be connected here, she can't find them. George groans and rubs his face with his hands. Maggie starts to rise, but he shakes his head, and she sits back down.

"So you've had the ring for seven months."

"And one day."

"And one day," she amends. "Is... something about it bothering you?" She curls her hand into a fist and hides the blue gemstone against her skirt. "I can take it off. If anybody asks I can say I didn't want to drop it dancing and put it away for safekeeping in the car."

He's still quiet, and it's so unlike him, so unnerving, that she wants to cry.

"George, it's alright, I'll take it off-"

"Don't!"

"Don't?"

"Please don't," he says, and he's begging, and she doesn't understand.

"Why not?"

"I- I can't see you without it."

She balks. "What? What does that mean?"

Maggie can count the number of times she's left George Luz speechless on one hand. Beholding the terror in his eyes as he gapes at her is the most frightened she's been since the war ended. Steeling the last of her nerves, she jumps up, stamps her foot, and, for the first time since this lie of theirs started, stands her ground.

"Christ Almighty, George, if you don't tell me what the fuck is bothering you so much, I'm gonna go back in there and drag Malarkey away from his pretty bartender for another dance!"

"Oh, please don't do that."

She throws her clasped hands out at him like a last-resort prayer.

"Then tell me what's wrong."

He drops his hands to his sides. They hang there, empty, until she steps forward and takes them to hold. Finally, he draws his gaze up to meet hers, but it doesn't last long before his attention falls to her lips. Twice.

"I want it to be real."

This, combined with how he licks his lips before glancing at hers for the third time, knocks the breath out of her.

"What?" she tries to ask, but all that comes out is a whisper—and worse, her voice breaks.

George takes it the wrong way. He steps back, drops her hands, and presses his back against the bricks as if he can blend in, hide from her there. Unfortunately for him, his shirt is not red but a pale blue. She helped him pick it out not six hours ago. She would have gone with a nice forest green—she thinks he looks especially excellent in the color—but she was worried it would remind him too much of his Airborne uniform, especially today.

"I shouldn't have said that."

She startles back into the moment. They've been staring at each other; only now has one of them (him) broken the silence.

"George-"

"Just- just go back in there and tell them I went out for a cigarette break, they'll get it, they know how it gets, with the nicotine—and jeez, it's June again, did you know Normandy was in June? It must'a been in the papers, you prob'ly read all about it-"

"You really did buy the ring for me, didn't you."

It's not a question. It's all clicking into place; the more he rambles, the more anxious he gets, and the more she hears threaded between his buzzing. Knowing she's come to understand makes him fall silent and look away. She feels as though she can feel his heart beating against her very own. He's afraid. She wants to tell him Don't worry, I am, too, but when she steps toward him, he turns his gaze further away, looking down the long alley at the quiet street. 

"Did you? Buy the ring for me."

He tries to take a deep breath, but it shakes, and they can both hear it.

"George, please."

He nods, just once, but it's enough.

"You bought the ring for me because you actually did want to marry me."

"Did?" He chuckles hoarsely. "Whoever said it was a 'did' and not a..." 

He trails off, but they both know what he almost said.

His voice drops and his head goes with it. 

"God, I really wish I had you- shit, I mean, a smoke right now..."

"A smoke?" she asks skeptically. "You want me to go ask that Buck fella for one for you? I'm sure if I was nice about it, he'd-"

"No!" 

He lurches toward her, then freezes as if he's forgotten he's supposed to be walling himself away from her. He swallows; she watches his Adam's apple bob.

"No?"

"Don't go."

"Alright, then do you want a smoke or do you want me? Because I can give you one of those things, but probably not the oth-"

"You!" he cries, and it's as if the words have been ricocheting around his chest all night, made louder every time his heart skips or flutters. "Always- always you."

He scrunches up his face as if he's trying not to cry, and Maggie drags her knuckles under her eyes, trying to diminish her own tears. 

"Goddamnit," he whispers. "I'm sorry, Mags. I'm real sorry."

She sniffles. When he shuffles a step towards her, it's instinctual; he's quick to retreat again. Finally brave enough, she goes and wraps her arms around him. It takes a moment, but he returns the embrace, a bit clumsily but no less earnestly than he might have yesterday, before this all began.

"I'm sorry, too."

"For what?" He snorts derisively at himself. "What in the hell could you possibly have done that's more insane than buying your best friend a goddamn engagement ring-"

"Falling in love with him the day I met him, how about that?"

He gapes at her.

"You what?"

She sighs. His nose flutters; his breathing is still unstable.

"George, when you asked me to marry you that day on the beach, I didn't freeze up 'cause it was such a startling thing to ask a stranger—even though it definitely was-"

"You didn't?"

"No. No, I froze up because I looked at you, with your big, brown, puppy-dog eyes and your smile all stricken by something that I think might have been awe, and my first instinct was to say yes and marry you on the spot.”

"It was?"

"Yeah, it was." 

Maggie shrugs, running her hands up and down George's arms, hoping to soothe him. Her touch, accompanying her confession, seems to do the trick.

"It took all of five minutes for me to fall in love with you then and I'm still in love with you now. Now, I dunno if that's crazier than buying somebody an engagement ring before you've asked 'em out on a first date... But hey, if our standard here is longevity—whether it be two and a half weeks or seven months and one day—then I'm pretty sure I win."

They share a faint laugh, always watching each other's expression, worried one will frighten the other off if they say just one thing too much.

"Only by a few months."

"Aw, there's that smile." Maggie reaches up and caresses his cheek, and to her continued delight, he leans readily into her touch. "I love that smile."

"Sweetheart?"

"Yeah?"

He turns his head and nuzzles a kiss into her palm, and the warmth that fills her chest is more comforting than he could ever know.

"What was that secret you wanted from me? After this was all over?"

"Honestly?" Her smile turns a little shy. "It was you all along."

His grin falls, and for a moment, she's terrified he's only now come to realize all she's been saying. And yet, he doesn't turn away, he steps toward her, and his lower lip is trembling when he murmurs:

"You really do love me."

"I really do," she confirms, still a little afraid he's going to run despite the ring he's now taking off her finger—

"George? What’re you-"

"I know this might not be the best place, but I wanna do this right before I lose the nerve."

He drops to one knee. She gasps, and again it sounds strangled, but this time, he takes her surprise at its harmless face value.

"Marry me, sweetheart?" He's choking up, she can hear it in his voice just as much as she can see it in his eyes. "Marry me for real?"

"Yes," she whimpers, "yes, I'll marry you for real—but for the love of God, George, kiss me."

He surges up to meet her, and they embrace like they've been waiting an aeon for this moment. It kind of feels like they have, even though they've known each other for only a year. He kisses her dizzy and she returns the favor. His hands on her face, caressing her arms, bunching up the back of her dress at the small of her back to pull her flush against him—it's all she's ever imagined and more. When she twirls a brown curl around her finger and accidentally tugs, he groans into her mouth. She nearly has a heart attack from all the things it—he—makes her feel. When they stumble back into the dance hall, drunk off each other, they beeline first for the bar. A celebration is certainly in order—be it two toasts or ten—and if they get too drunk, someone here will get them a hotel room or a taxi. Maggie spots Kitty and Frannie and breaks away, murmuring apologies when she sees the pout already forming on George's face.

"Meet me over there," she mumbles against his lips, delaying to kiss them several times before making her departure.

"You look happy," Kitty remarks as Maggie floats on over. "Happier, I should say, happier than you've looked all evening."

"I am, and for jolly good reason!"

Maggie's two new friends lean over the table towards her, pleased that she has come to them first with her shiny news.

"Oh, go on," Frannie urges, "Spill the beans!"

"It's George- well, it's both of us, really!" Maggie blurts out, hasty in her elation.

"What about you?"

Triumphant at last, Maggie raises her left hand and shows the ladies that magnificent ring and the real, genuine promise it comes with.

"We're engaged!"

While Frannie looks confused—

"Weren't ya already?"

—Kitty's smile quickly turns knowing.

"Frannie, I think our friends Maggie and George might have been fooling us until, say, five minutes ago?"

George reappears—it seems he has missed Maggie just as much as she has missed him in the forty-five seconds they've been apart—wrapping both arms around her torso and cuddling her to him. Where the drinks he was supposed to get have gone, Maggie doesn't know and doesn't much care.

"More like seven," he mumbles into her shoulder blade, and she giggles, placing her hands over his on her stomach. They sway a bit, and Maggie turns her head to feel his glorious kiss again. He pecks her neck—mostly innocently—and little flares spark fire through her stomach.

"Love you, darling."

"Love you, too, sweetheart."

Frannie looks at the fawning couple, then at a very satisfied Kitty, then back at Maggie.

"We love you, too, Frannie," Maggie giggles, a little delirious. "And Kitty, of course."

Kitty raises her glass in a mirthful toast. "Why, of course."

Frannie shuts her gaping mouth, blinks several times, then leans back in her chair.

"Mhmm. Okay."

She takes a deep breath, then hits the table with a soft open palm, and fixes her incredulity directly on Maggie and George, who couldn't be bothered less.

"What in the flying fuck did I miss?"

[theweirdgoodbyes]

misadventures at nix’s tavern

“Joe, you’re fired.”

“No, I’m not.”

Lewis Nixon put his head in his hands and wonders why the fuck this needed to be happening today of all days. Despite never advertising as such, but possibly having to do with his brusque employees and inability to keep a female hire, Nix’s Tavern had gotten the reputation as both an Irish bar and a gay bar; March 17th and June 28th were their busiest days of the year. It was the morning of Saint Patrick’s Day and all hands were on deck to keep shit as together as possible: Joe was an active hindrance to that. Joe, all 135 pounds of him, was his best bartender and worst nightmare rolled into one. He could make a drink quicker and better than anyone, was never late, and managed to piss off everyone who stepped in the door, highlighted by last night’s disaster.

“Joe, don’t do this to me today. C‘mon, man.”

“You can’t fire me. What did I do wrong?” Joe, who he doesn’t even remember hiring by the way, throws his arms up.

“What did you-Joe, do you remember calling a woman a troglodyte last night? Because I do. Do you remember her throwing one of my martini glasses at your head? You still smell like olives.”

“I didn’t call her a troglodyte, I called her boyfriend one,” Joe shrugs, looking back at the bar he had been summoned from, “Can I get back to my prep?”

“Her boyfriend, oh, my deepest apologies,“ Nix presses his hands together in mock remorse, “Yes, you called her boyfriend a troglodyte. That makes it so much better. Joe, I cannot fucking have you here tonight. Just go home. Please, man.”

“You can’t expect Welsh and Luz to be on bar alone!” Joe cries, pointing at the two other bartenders who are supposed to be cutting limes but seem to be having more fun balancing shot glasses on their palms.

“They have each other. Put the fucking glass down, George!” George shoots Nix a quick thumbs up before the three glasses he has balancing in his other hand fall to the floor and shatter. George just gives him a shrug. God, this day needs to be done with already.

“Lew, are you fucking stupid?”

“Stupid for letting you work here? Stupid for opening this place? I’m the biggest idiot on fucking earth.”

“Lew,” Joe says, as serious as Joe can ever be, “I’ll be good tonight. Promise.” It’s a bold faced lie, but they both know that Joe needs to be here. A fact that Nix hates and Joe will never let him forget. For all his flaws and abilities to irritate the shit out of most of their customers, Joe had been a godsend after Buck quit.

“Joe, I swear to God,” Nix says, the same warning he’s given him time and time again, “Last chance.”

“Last chance.” Joe gives him a shit eating grin and a wink before getting up from their table and heading back to the bar, grabbing a pan and broom on the way to clean up George’s mess.

Joe fucking Liebgott, Nix laments as he gets up and makes him way to the kitchen to check on Malarkey, I hope you get your ass kicked tonight.

Enjoy this little add on to my other dive bar!au posts, all of which are now tagged under “misadventures at nix’s tavern!

[malarkgirlypop]

Green-eyed Monster (Ron Speirs x GN!Reader)

HEY! HEY! Sorry for this taking so long, she's a busy gal. But this is for @kafka-ohdear who asked for a jealousy story, and boy oh boy he was a bit jealous. This was so fun to write. I thought it would be the most fun to make Mr. Speirs jealous. Cause he just wears jealousy so well. It got a bit steamy, so I hope you like it. Anyway as per usual this is based off the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to the men who served.

Ronald Speirs was a calm man. He thought of himself as composed and coolheaded. These traits made him a good leader. He was able to handle any situation thrown at him. Like in Foy when he had been made to take over the assault that Lieutenant Dike had been butchering to then be made CO. But one person made his calmness dissipate. Ron couldn’t put his finger on why the private had wound him up so much. Maybe it was their carefree attitude, they were in the middle of the war but still found a way to be chipper and brighten up the rest of the men. Or maybe it was the way they carelessly flirted with every soldier they came across, did they know they were doing it or was it unconscious. Maybe he was jealous at how easily they talked to everyone and opened up to them with their infectious personality. Everyone seemed to hang off their every word. Now as they sat in Hitler’s Eagles Nest Ron watched Y/N entertain the men with their stories. 

“And then she dropped it and it went everywhere!” Y/N finishes their story as the soldier’s roared with laughter. “Thank you, thank you I will be here all week.” Y/N bows, pretending to receive applause. Y/N reaches forward picking up the bottle of wine they had placed on the floor before they had stood up to give a dramatic reenactment of the story. Y/N sips from the wine, still standing, their eyes scanning over the room. Y/N’s eyes fall on the soldier sitting in the corner of the hall, Winters and Nixon sitting close to the men but he doesn’t involve himself in their conversation. Ron’s eyes are fixed on Y/N, not averting his gaze. They seem to stare at each other, waiting for the other to pull their focus. Y/N tilts their head as they regard the man as he mirrors their actions. They sip from their wine, finally turning their attention back to the group of rowdy Easy company men that sat in front of them. Y/N sat next to George trying to focus on the conversation he was having with Lieb but their mind wandered to the solitary soldier drinking across the room from them.

Ron had only become CO a couple months prior, but he had been around before that. Ron was in Dog company originally. Y/N had only seen him a handful of times but had heard many things about the infamous Captain Speirs. Ronald had quite the reputation, many soldiers in the company being scared shitless of the ruthless man. A rumour or two had spread at the beginning of the war right after D-day, that Speirs had given a group of POW’s cigarettes only to shoot them all dead after they had lit them. However this was just gossip, only one person had claimed to see the event, and from there the story had become more exaggerated. People said he shot 8 and then the next Y/N had heard the story Ron had killed 20 odd men. Y/N didn’t believe all the tall tales told about the Captain but had kept him at arm's length. Though he was stunningly handsome, he was cold and calculated. He was curt and stubborn, all the things that Y/N was not. Known in Easy company as the flirt and entertainment along with Luz. Luz and Y/N had clicked right from the beginning getting on like a house on fire. The two were notorious for playing pranks and causing havoc. They were referred to lovingly as Easy companies trouble-makers. Y/N loved Luz like a brother and they were attached at the hip, never far from each other. It kept them sane, amidst all the chaos and heartbreak of war. They had each other and were able to make each other laugh, even when they were having the toughest of days. But they also were able to console each other, knowing what to say when the jokes weren’t feeling the most appropriate. George and Y/N had had a hard time after they had found the camp when doing a search of the perimeter. Neither of them had seen anything like it before and it broke them. It was different to the casualties they had experienced in war, this situation seemed more cruel. The men in the war signed up knowing the sacrifice they might have to make, knowing they might not make it back alive. But this camp they had found, the people were innocent. They weren’t even being treated like humans, they were inferior in Hitler’s eyes, cast aside to be exterminated like cockroaches in a house. That was cruel, the most awful thing that Y/N would ever see. George and Y/N weren’t the same after that, but none of the men were. In that moment they saw the real horror of what was happening and how blindsided they had all been to the reign of Hitler. So when they had stumbled across his Eagle’s nest they were more than happy to loot and steal whatever they wanted, that man deserved no respect. George knocked his elbow into Y/N pulling them from their thoughts. 

“Huh?” Y/N asked. 

“Were you not listening at all?” George rolled his eyes at his friend. 

“Nope, but you know what? I am super drunk.” Y/N slurs in George’s face. George laughs, as Y/N tries to get the room to stop spinning. Y/N spots Winters and Nixon laughing across the room. Y/N gets to their feet, steadying themself before sauntering over to the men. 

“Hello handsome!” Y/N says to Nixon swaying over him. 

“Hello you!” Nixon equally as drunk smirks at Y/N. They take a step forward to sexily whisper in his ear, stumbling over Nixon’s feet landing on his lap. 

“Woooh, steady on Y/N!” Nixon laughs as Y/N gets comfortable. Wrapping their arms around his neck. 

“You love it!” Y/N teases. Nixon wraps his arms around their waist steadying them on his lap. Y/N stays in that position flirting with Nixon as they chat. Y/N feels a shiver run up their spine, glancing around finding the icy stare of Ron trained on them. Shaking off the feeling they turned their focus back to Nixon. Y/N couldn’t seem to pay attention to Nix, the weight of Ron’s gaze distracting them too much. 

“I have to pee.” Y/N announces wiggling off of Nixon’s lap. Y/N scurried out of the hall they occupy into one of the long hallways. Feeling more sober now thanks to the glare of the stoic Captain.

Y/N turns in a circle, where am I? The Eagle’s nest is huge. All the hallways looking the same turns it into a never ending maze. I swear I just walked past that panting. Y/N groans turning around to try and find their way back to the hall. After making more turns left and right trying to remember the way they had come originally, Y/N was once again lost. OMG I WILL NEVER ESCAPE THIS HALLWAY! Y/N presses their back to the wall, sliding down it to sit. Hiding their head in their knees sighing. A pair of black boots stepped into Y/N’s eyeline. They take a moment to regard the shoes, slowly trailing their eyes up the figure looming above them. They gape at their Captain who stands over them.

“Oh, Captain!” Y/N sputtered. Ron didn’t speak, only extending his hand to help Y/N to their feet. Reaching out Y/N clasps the outstretched hand, as he helped haul them to their feet. Once standing they noticed the closeness of the Captain. Ron stood toe to toe with Y/N, caging them into the wall with his body. Shyly Y/N glanced up at Ron who looked down his nose at them. 

Ron leaned forward into Y/N’s space, prompting Y/N to take a step back only to be stopped by the wall. The Captain’s breath fanned onto their face, only inches between them, one small movement would cause their lips to touch. A blush rose to Y/N’s cheeks thinking about them sharing a kiss with Speirs, shaking the thought from their head. Their eyes finally glanced up to hold his gaze. 

“Is there something on my face?” Y/N asked, turning on their signature charm. 

“No.” Speirs said curtly. 

“Then why do you keep staring at me?” Y/N questions the man tilting their head in a coy manner. 

“I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” Ron spoke in a low voice. Y/N blinked at the man confused at what he meant. 

“I’m sorry Sir, I’m confused? Do I have something of yours?” Y/N asked. The man didn’t answer immediately, scanning his eyes over their face, lingering on their lips before dragging back up to meet their gaze again. A shiver ran up Y/N’s spine. The intensity at which Ron was looking at them almost had them in a puddle on the floor. 

Ron took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of Y/N. The smell of wine and something almost sweet lingered around them. The smell alone was addicting. Ron had never felt like this before about anyone. When Y/N had sat on Nixon’s lap he saw red, the way they smiled at each other. Draped over each other, the way Nixon’s arm looped around their waist. His head swirled with jealousy. Ron didn’t think he liked the Private much, he thought he disliked them. Watching them flirt with people, he just assumed he was annoyed at how they weren’t focussing on the task at hand. But after he saw them in Nixon’s lap, he had soon figured out that he felt quite the opposite about Y/N. He had wanted to be the one they were draped over, laughing carelessly, whispering to each other. It had taken quite some control to stop himself from marching over and plucking Y/N out of Nixon’s lap to find somewhere more private. Ron had taken the other option of sending the most deadly glare in their direction instead. When Y/N had scurried out of the room he was quick to slip out as well, following them from a distance. He could tell when Y/N had taken multiple wrong turns they had been lost. He kept his distance though, planning to only be a spectator to it all. When Y/N had sighed loudly and sunk to the floor, he thought it would be the right time to intervene. His plan at first was just to help Y/N back to the hall they were so desperately trying to find. But after he had helped them to their feet he couldn’t help but close the distance between them. They had tried to charm Ron but he had other motives. 

“Sir?” Y/N questioned again when the Captain didn’t answer. The man seemed to snap out of his trance, taking a step back from Y/N. 

“Do you want me to show you back to the hall?” Ron asked. Y/N felt like they had whiplash, one moment it seemed like Ron was about to confess something, the next he was offering to show them back to the hall. 

Y/N still feeling a bit tipsy felt a surge of confidence, taking a step forward into Ron’s personal space. Lightly brushing their fingertips down Ron’s arm. The man stood still, watching Y/N fingers trace down his sleeve, his jaw clenched. 

“Careful Y/N, you don’t know what you’re doing.” Ron growled. 

Y/N smirked, “Oh like this?” dragging their fingers across Ron’s chest teasingly. In a sharp movement Ron captured Y/N’s hand in his, causing a gasp to leave their lips. Pulling them in even closer to whisper in their ear. “You’re playing with fire.” Ron let Y/N’s hand go as it dropped back to their side. 

Something switched in Y/N. An anger bubbled in their chest. Yes they had noticed Ron’s glares on occasion, only thinking it was because the Captain disliked them. Y/N was fine with that, not everyone had to like them, but from his actions tonight it seemed like it was the opposite. Which ticked them off, if Ron liked them why treat Y/N so coldly. Why did he always send a dirty look, never talk to them. Whenever they talked in the past it was short and sweet, no small talk. Orders and go. Now Ron wanted to claim them. A huff left Y/N lips. 

“Do you have a problem with me Sir?” Y/N demanded. Ron seemed taken aback from the sudden outburst of Y/N, not often were they mad and showed it. Ron opened his mouth to answer the soldier standing in front of him only to be cut off. 

“You can’t just treat me like you hate me and then tell me that I am yours!” Y/N spat harshly at the man. 

“I didn’t know.” Ron said calmly, trying to defuse the situation. 

“You didn’t know what?” Y/N challenged the man, fist clenching at their sides to try and restrain themselves from doing something they would regret. 

“I didn’t know that I liked you.” Ron confessed sheepishly. The statement had shocked Y/N causing a blush to rise on their cheeks. They opened and closed their mouth, unable to form a sentence. 

“I’m sorry for treating you poorly in the past. You just….you just made me so angry. I couldn’t put my finger on why. But now I can. Seeing you tonight with Nixon, it just hit a nerve. Then I realised that I was jealous.” Ron blurted trying to fill the silence, as Y/N stared stunned at him. 

“I wanted you to look at me how you were looking at him.” Ron breathed. The pair still standing toe to toe stared at each other as their breaths filled the silence. The tension between them was thick with need. So close, their faces only inches apart, breaths mingling with each other. Ron’s eyes searched between Y/N’s for an answer, a signal, anything. Ron’s hands moved from his side reaching Y/N’s face cupping around their jaw. 

“Is this ok?” He hummed lowly. Y/N’s lips parted as a soft yes fell from their mouth. Ron’s thumb moved, stroking Y/N’s jaw. The movement causes Y/N’s eyes to flutter closed, enjoying the gentle touches. 

“What about this?” Ron breathed, running his thumb down Y/N’s neck. A sigh left their lips, letting their head fall back so the man had better access to their skin. Ron came closer, tucking his face into the open space that Y/N had created. 

“This?” He said, deliberately dragging his lips over the soft flesh as he spoke. Causing a moan to sound from Y/N. The man stepped back letting all contact cease. A whimper came from Y/N from the sudden loss. Y/N head swum, desperately wanting to be back in Ron’s arms and pissed at him for teasing them so. 

“That’s not very nice of you Ron.” They panted, a smug smirk formed on the Captain's lips. 

“Well now you know how it feels.” He teased Y/N. Y/N scoffed at the man. 

“Fine then! I will find someone else to satisfy my needs.” Y/N exclaimed, turning on their heel back to the direction of the hall. I mean if it’s that way, I am still lost. Not making it two steps before their waist was grabbed by Ron. Who turned them back to face him. 

“There is no need for that.” Ron asserted. Before Y/N could come back with a snarky reply Ron pressed his lips to theirs. His lips were surprisingly soft and full. The kiss at first was gentle. Ron’s hand gripped at Y/N’s hips pulling them closer. A contented sigh leaving Y/N’s lips. Sliding their hands up Ron’s arms to rest on his shoulders, pulling him further down to deepen their kiss. Ron’s grip on their body grew possessive, his kisses becoming more fervent. His hands running up their spine, stopping at the base of Y/N’s neck, his fingers playing with the hair there. A soft moan falls from Y/N’s lips. Taking the opportunity of their open mouth Ron teasingly running his tongue along their bottom lip. Y/N presses their body further into Ron’s needing to be as close as they could to the man. Ron allowed his tongue to find its way into Y/N mouth. The sounds of soft whimpers and groans filled the empty hallway as the pair became hungrier with lust. Ron moved Y/N swiftly, grabbing under their legs to lift them off the ground. Y/N wrapped their legs around Ron’s waist. Ron pushes Y/N against the wall pressing their back against its surface. With his hands wrapping fully around their body Ron passionately kisses Y/N, his hands gliding up their figure as his lips continue to explore theirs. With Y/N pressed against the wall Ron leaned into the kiss more heavily, his tongue exploring Y/N mouth, as their hands roamed around Ron’s body. Slipping their fingers into his hair tugging gently causing the man to groan, the sensual sound causing goosebumps to arise over their skin. Y/N pulls back to admire the man, his blue eyes full of lust, his swollen pink lips parted slightly as he pants. 

“I think we should take it slow.” Y/N whispers to the man still being held in his arms.

“God you’re killing me Y/N.” Ron growled, but in the same breath gently placing them back on the ground but still holding them close. A small smile formed on Y/N’s lip, giving the man a gentle peck. Grabbing his hand Y/N starts to lead him back to the hall. He smiles and walks after them. 

“Y/N, the hall is this way.” He chuckled, pulling them back. Continuing to hold hands they walked down the corridor back to the hall where the rest of Easy company resided.            

[youcalledmebabe]

as I devour all info about the babe's anatomy universe I wanted to ask if there are people or subplots you want to explore more and didn't have time yet? and/or who are some other hbowar characters you would like to sneak into the verse? thanks! loving your work <3

the short answer is yes, one hundred percent. and the long answer is that there’s four more fics planned (maybe five,,, we shall see) to take us through a decade of the babe’s anatomy universe. so why not unveil the slate now? and despite these focusing on specific characters they’re very much ensemble pieces the way Bursting Into Life was.

fic two: The Weight of Water, starring David Webster and Joe Liebgott as they deal with the fallout of Web’s actions (or lack thereof) regarding the clinical trial.

fic three: Turn a New Page, starring Renee Lemaire and Pat Christenson as they navigate newlywed life and their first year as attendings.

fic four: Untitled Luztoye Fic, starring Joe Toye and George Luz. Joe contemplates a return to football and George does not care for that.

fic five: Baby, I Broke Them All For You, starring Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon. A decade long fic spanning a years long friendship and emotional affair.

and then maybe a baberoe to wrap it up and bring it full circle! I also plan to do fun one shots for holidays and such. I would say anybody from hbo war is fair game whether they get a big role or just a passing mention. Patient names are almost always drawn from minor characters. I would say Bucky gets the most major role out of anybody non BoB though!