Chapter Text
It starts in Holland. A barn in some poor farmer’s field; once Babe had remembered his face, but not anymore. It’s dark, fires burning everywhere but for the moment he feels safe.
The Germans aren’t occupying this stretch of land, not yet anyway, and inside the barn it’s hard not to feel sheltered because there are walls and a roof – never mind the fact they’re flimsy as shit. One good hit and it’s gone, like it’d never been there.
Taking a deep breath, Babe tries to focus on the man in front of him who’s checking the gash on his forearm, and even though he hadn’t felt a thing when it happened, he winces as the Doc pulls a bandage tight around it.
“Sorry,” Doc says, glancing up at Babe with an apologetic grin. Babe opens his mouth to tell him it’s fine when Doc pulls at the fabric again, startling him.
“Jesus, Doc, really?”
“Gotta be tight, Heffron.” Doc’s reply is simple, as always. Babe’s not sure if he’s heard him say more than half a dozen words strung together in the couple of months Babe’s been with Easy.
Babe glances down at the white bandage that’s already spotted with blood when a tell-tale whistling starts hurtling their way. There’s time for the two men to catch eyes before everything’s in chaos, half the roof’s caved in and there’s shouting, dust, smoke – for a second it’s all too much. He can’t take it all in.
But then a hand closes on his shoulder, another on the side of his jacket and that’s all he needs to snap back to reality and start choking on the dust that’s dancing through the air. He tries to speak but all he can manage is a coughing fit, and he finds Doc’s shoulder to be the perfect place to tuck his head down to and try to pull in a breath of air. Shit is still blowing up outside, but for a minute it almost feels like him and Doc are alone in the world.
They’re clinging to each other, praying that another bomb doesn’t go off in their general vicinity and Babe reminds himself for the hundredth time that he volunteered for this. He feels a thrill, thinks its from the bombardment because the adrenalin is always pumping during a fight. But it’s the hot breath on his neck and the clenching fingers that’s causing this rush, and he realizes for the first time since he left home that he’s clutching another human being to him, that this is the closest he’s been to someone else in a very, very long time.
Jesus.
He wants to admonish himself for thinking of such a thing right now, but he lifts his head and meets Doc’s gaze and goddamn if he doesn’t see something in those eyes. He’s not sure what, but when Doc presses closer, his hands leaving Babe’s jacket to wrap around the warped wood of the barn wall behind Babe’s back, he feels his stomach flutter.
This isn’t happening.
Doc’s pressing against him, gasping softly in his ear, and Babe can’t tell if it’s from the chaos of the bombardment, or the confusion that seems to be growing between them. He wishes he could see the Doc’s eyes because it might give him a clue as to what the other man might be thinking, but he’d have to turn his head and there’s no time for that now. He has to go off touch alone.
And touch is saying so much.
They’re flush against each other, and Babe can sort-of-kind-of blame it on the debris that’s still raining down in front of him, but really there’s no excuse for how close they are. For a second he thinks about what it’d look like if someone saw them, and he cringes inwardly, thinking he should push Doc away.
But then Doc moans. For real, honest-to-God moans and suddenly Babe can’t find it in himself to care that Doc’s a man and he’s a man and what they’re doing is a sin. He doesn’t have time for that kind of thinking when he’s got a wiry, lean, dark haired man in his arms who’s pushing against his groin. He can feel the other man’s dick against his and for an inexplicable reason it’s turning him on. It reminds him of Doris, and how her soft breasts used to press against his chest, turning his dick into a rock, but instead of soft flesh it’s another man’s cock and Babe’s got no answer for it. None at all.
His hands slide down from Doc’s shoulders and rest at the small of his back, pressing the man closer to him, letting Doc thrust against him mindlessly. Babe wants to slide his hands further down, to grasp Doc’s ass but he can’t, he can’t move. Can’t do anything other than gasp softly.
The dust is starting to settle around them, and unbeknownst to either man the bombardment seems to have stopped; silence reigns down and just as Babe starts to realize it, a set of lips latches onto his neck, sucking and biting and that’s all Babe needs to start coming in his own pants, odd, mewling sounds leaving his mouth and Jesus H. Christ how is this happening?
Babe’s world is white and trembling and he’s vaguely aware that Doc is coming against him and that’s when his hands decide to move without his permission and grasp at Doc’s ass, pushing him closer as the dark haired man whines softly in Babe’s ear.
Babe’s pretty sure he’s never heard anything so breathtaking in his life.
They’re both gasping now, bodies still shaking and that’s when the voices from outside the barn start trickling in and Babe realizes they’re getting louder, and he hears his name being called. He thinks it’s Bill and he can only imagine the horror on his face if he’s sees Babe doing whatever the fuck he’s been doing with Doc and without really thinking about it, he pushes Doc away gently. Hands sliding up to grip Doc’s biceps and they’re staring at each other; it’s almost heartening to see the awe and surprise in Doc’s eyes, the round O of his lips.
This was definitely not meant to happen. It’s the rush, the heat of the moment, and Babe feels a stupid, euphoric grin spreading across his face and Doc’s eyes widen, his fingers wrapped around Babe’s hips. Doc looks like he wants to smile back but instead he whispers one word and it takes Babe’s breath away.
“Heffron.”