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One thing Nix was hating about war most was how loud everything was. When was the last time he'd had the luxury of peace and quiet? He could hardly remember. Gunfire, ricochets, screaming, explosions, engines...
Everything echoed in his head as if it were far in the distance, no matter how close it actually was. Sounds bled into each other, creating an orchestra playing the melody of death. How many men were dancing to it now? How long would it be before he joined them?
The echoing hurt his head. It was his helmet, he was sure of it. It's a metal dome, it's the culprit, surely. He reached up unthinkingly and slid it off his head, dangling it at his side from his fingers. Head exposed, he could now get rid of that echo. This would help.
A voice he knows better than his own pulls him out of his trance, and he slowly turns his head to look to his right, where Dick has leaned against a vehicle and is shouting orders at his men, urging them to return to him. In his delirium, Nix almost thinks Dick is talking to him, despite not facing him. He takes a step forward before he realizes it's not him Dick is telling to move. So why did he move?
Nix hits gravel. It cuts into his skin, and he feels liquid bloom from his forehead. He is on his back, staring up at the sky in shock. He figures he can't be dead yet, he can still feel and hear. But considering the warmth streaming down his face and past his eye was probably not water, he thinks he might be soon enough.
That melody reverberated in his head louder and he was tempted to dance along.
"Nix!"
Just after his brain registered the only voice that could possibly be familiar to him in this state, he felt a warm hand on the back of his head and another on his arm. The touch burned through his uniform. Long fingers in his hair. He moved his eyes to meet Dick's worried ones, the man hovering over him and surrounded by the beauty of the sky. If not for the absolute terror present on his face, he could've easily been mistaken for an angel. Nix felt himself slipping away, everything disappearing except Dick's face and his touch.
Nix always liked the color of Dick's eyes, but they were blurry now. He didn't know if it was from Dick's tears or his own.
----
Spinning is what it felt like when his eyes finally opened. Nix was spinning even though he was completely still.
Warm but calloused fingers made contact with his forehead and for a moment he almost thought it was Dick. But, no, it wasn't. These movements were calculated and medical. Dick had never touched Nix much (since he had no real reason to), but Nix didn't have to look to know it wasn't him. Disappointment settled in his stomach, just another shitty feeling on top of all his other shitty feelings he has, and he's only just woken up.
"Sir," came a familiar drawl. Nix's eyes lazily trailed to the source of the voice, and through his unfocused vision he could just make out Eugene standing at his bedside, fingers now retracting from his face.
"Eugene," he tried to nod, but couldn't. As his senses slowly returned to him, he realized he was in an infirmary, and could feel gauze on the left side of his head. Made sense considering...wait. "Oh shit, guess I'm not dead, huh?"
"Looks that way," Eugene nodded, his face serious as always. Nix thinks the kid could use a sense of humor but couldn't really blame him for being stoic after all he's seen.
"So, what's the deal? Why do I feel like my head's being shaken like a goddamn snow globe?" Nix asked, letting his eyes fall back closed, trying to rid of his dizziness. "That a side effect of getting shot in the face?"
"Yes, sir. You'll be on medication while you're here, which shouldn't be too long depending on how you hold up. You're doing good so far, 'specially given the circumstances. You were very blessed to not have been killed by that."
"Lucky, not blessed. Dumb fucking luck," Nix answered bitterly. Why was he the one who got to wake up in a bed still intact? He sure as hell didn't do anything to deserve it. Why was it him and not those other kids, younger than him with worried mothers at home that he'd seen get shot or blown to hell one by one? His eyes began to sting so he squeezed them shut harder, willing it away. If Eugene noticed this, he was courteous enough not to bring attention to it.
"I come by to check on you when I can. You weren't awake until now, of course, but from what I can tell it's just a graze. You did lose a lotta blood, though. You must've passed out from that or shock, maybe both," Eugene changes the subject, his voice managing to sound lazy with that accent of his but professional when speaking in his area of expertise. "Some of the men come up to see you when they have time, too."
That caught Nix's attention.
"Really? Who?" Nix's eyes were as wide as they could manage to be, and Eugene looked like he was holding back an amused expression.
"Cap'n Winters, 'course," Nix immediately perked up after hearing that. He hoped his reaction wasn't too obvious. "Welsh, Luz, some others, I'm usually too busy to pay it much attention," Eugene shrugged nonchalantly, eyes leaving Nix's to look off in the distance, as if unconcerned with the conversation. Then, a rare little smile and: "You're pretty popular, even for a Yale boy."
Nix rolled his eyes to the sky (ceiling? Whatever). "Alright, boy, you've been hanging around Dick too long."
Eugene almost looks afraid of his own words, as if it had only just caught up to him what he let slip. He stared at Nix, and presumably read that he wasn't mad, but Nix could see that cold exterior shifting back into place after it'd momentarily fumbled.
"Unfortunately I won't be back too much, as I'm meant to be elsewhere. But if I don't see you again, I wish you the best of luck in your recovery," Eugene says to him with a small nod of respect. He steps back from the bed, ready to leave.
"Thank you, Eugene," Nix smiles ever so slightly as the unfocused sensation in his head began to finally settle. He chewed the inside of his cheek, wondering if he should risk asking for Dick. It might raise an eyebrow, but everyone knows they're close friends. He could come up with an excuse if he really needed to...probably. He thought about Dick being here at his side without him knowing it, and decided that was all the convincing he needed. "I know he's busy, but could you tell Dick to come see me when he can now that I'm awake?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thank you. Again."
Eugene nods but looks pensive, lips twitching subtly as if he's stopping himself from saying something else after that. Nix's thoughts are floating by too fast for him to grasp onto one long enough to voice any other questions he has, which are too many to begin with. He lays there in a confused state, and even through his slightly unclear vision sees Eugene shift his body to leave.
"Tell me," Nix forces out, his words miles behind his mind. He doesn't understand Eugene's immediate reaction, surprised eyes wide and attentive, until he eventually realizes he'd said it in French. If he were in any other state, he probably would've chuckled at the cute response, it's not often Eugene had someone to speak to in his language that reminded him of home.
Eugene didn't answer him immediately, but Nix knew he would.
"Well, it's not my business, sir, but..." Eugene relents quietly, noticeably stepping closer and pitching his voice lower as if afraid he'd be overheard. That much was clear given that he was answering in French and glanced around him quickly before he continued. It took more effort than Nix would like to admit to remember the language. "It looked to me like Cap'n Winters was crying last I saw him visit you."
Nix coughs out in surprise, and Eugene steadies him back down with a firm hand. Nix's body had involuntarily moved as if trying to sit up, which he could not do yet. That was something he never even considered Dick to even...partake in. Crying was human, raw, vulnerable. Nix always, perhaps foolishly, saw Dick as more than that. Nix was always the one who was a mess, Dick was untouchable. Such weakness never seemed capable of reaching him. But Eugene had no reason to lie, no matter how hard it was for Nix to wrap his head around.
"Relax, please," Eugene rushes out, his French syllables colliding hastily. Nix allows himself to sink into the uncomfortable bed, eyes staring unfocused at the ceiling. "Don't make me regret telling you, now. It wasn't no sobbing or anything, jus' looked to me like he wiped his eyes 's all. I might have seen it wrong. But I wouldn't be surprised, he's not doing too well with you up in 'ere. He-"
Eugene was flipping between languages each sentence, sometimes combining them. Eugene's French was occasionally littered with unfamiliar substitution words and in a slightly different dialect, which only made it more difficult for Nix to keep up with. Spinning, Nix was spinning again, and he sure as hell wasn't on a dance floor.
"Eugene," he interrupted, and the medic shut his mouth immediately. "One language at a time, please."
"Yes, sir," Eugene nodded, realizing he may have overwhelmed the officer with a non-native language when it is already taking a lot of effort to think. Eugene chewed the inside of his cheek before deciding to say something he normally wouldn't, thinking Nix might be okay with it. "You reminded me of my mother."
"How's that?"
"Way you said my name."
"She as pretty as me?" Nix quipped with a small smirk.
"Oui."
"Anything else I should know, Eugene?" Nix went completely serious in a matter of seconds, and noted the way Eugene's eyebrows lifted involuntarily in surprise. Nix had to know.
Nix watched the younger man suck his teeth and move his eyes to look off in the distance again, considering. Nix was gaining enough focus to notice the slight twitch in his eyebrows despite its faintness. Nix waited impatiently, it being made obvious there was something else that, once again, made Eugene take pause to reveal to him. When he answers, he takes it slower than he had been earlier.
"I haven't seen 'im in here with you other than that time I saw 'im wipe his eyes. I know he's been in and out of here a lot, though. He sees you more than the nurses do, probably. Only thing else I can think of is the way he looked when you were driven away. Like he lost all the life in 'im cause he thought he just saw you lose yours. Looked more dead than you," Eugene explained, reintroducing that private tone, though they both knew they were alone.
Nix's mouth was dry, and he swallowed around it, an even heavier weight settling in his chest, overtop the one that had already rested there at the news of Dick's emotional reaction to Nix's state. Dick Winters, the perfect soldier, broken because of Nix. Because he thought he'd lost him. Because Nix wasn't waking up.
"Thank you, Eugene," Nix said to him, almost emptily, and the dismissal in his voice was clear enough for Eugene to give him a short nod before leaving him.
Nix stared up at the ceiling, and although his dizziness had subsided, the numerous thoughts swimming in his head almost wish he was asleep again. He sunk into the silence the room provided him, and decided things could be worse. But he needed to see Dick. He'll come back to him eventually, when he can, but for now, Nix needed to rest again.
----
The next time Nix opens his eyes, there are no fingers on his head. Yet he feels a presence beside him, and it's strong enough to give him a little chill before he turns his head as fast as he can manage to see who it was. It was Dick, staring right at him. Eyes locked onto his like they were never apart in the first place.
Nix's vision adjusted, and he was thankful that previously blurriness only seemed to be a temporary thing. Without it, he could see every detail of Dick's expression, posture, eyes. Nix took in everything he was seeing.
Dick never sat like he knew what being comfortable was. Always rigid as a plank of wood, and much to his politely hidden annoyance, Nix often teased him about it. He was sitting like that now, but it still looked different in Nix's eyes. It wasn't the posture of someone who didn't know how to relax, it was that of someone who couldn't. He was frozen in place, his whole body tense with fingers curled into his uniform pants that would undoubtedly cause wrinkles (unheard of for Dick). Such a difference was something only Nix would probably notice about him, and he let himself notice it for a long time.
Then there was his expression. Dick was stoic more often than not, but Nix's gaze honed in on the slight creases of worry between his brows and above them like his eyes were missiles. Dick felt the hard stare and shifted in his seat as if uncomfortable he'd been exposed for expressing emotion. Nix stared a little longer, and despite his discomfort, Dick seemed unable to smooth out the lines on his face. Unable to not worry.
Nix lowered his eyes to Dick's. Nix always loved the color of them, he did. But their usual brightness was clouded with undeniable shadows. The sun was at the perfect angle, illuminating them so they shone brilliantly and emphasized the beauty in the complexity of the mixture of colors within them. Sun shining bright, but Nix still saw shadows. Nix never saw Dick's eyes look sad, but he had a pretty good feeling he was right now.
After his unhurried assessment of his best friend's appearance, he reached an informed conclusion and decided to share it as his introduction.
"You look like total shit."
Nix almost laughed at the way Dick couldn't stop his own lips from pursing in mild annoyance and/or offence. Even with a bullet to the head, Nix has still got it.
"Nix..." Dick whispers, voice sounding broken and like he hadn't used it in days. It almost made Nix regret immediately making fun of him when his friend was clearly distressed (almost), but Nix knew no other way of handling emotional conflict.
"Come on, someone must've told you that already-"
Nix is cut off when he feels himself being engulfed by two arms, pressed against a warm body. He stares over Dick's shoulder dumbly for a few seconds, his brain taking an embarrassing amount of time to process that this is a hug. Dick is hugging him.
He weakly lifts his arms and tries his best to reciprocate, gently patting Dick's back. Dick holds him closer, and breathes in deeply like Nix was the only oxygen in the room. The hug lasts longer than Nix would've expected from Dick, but when he pulls away, he still wants more.
"I'm sorry," Dick apologizes as he sits back down, eyes downcast.
"Don't apologize, I...I liked it."
Dick's eyes return to Nix's, and the surprise in them is obvious. Nix decides to blame whatever drugs he's on for his bluntness. Dick decides not to expand on that comment, and instead looks off to the side while he chooses his words. Nix watches him with full attention, eyes tracing the line of his jaw subtly.
"Well, I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around," Dick mumbled, brows drawn together.
"It worked both ways," Nix tried to be nonchalant, though he was very aware of how terribly fast his heart was beating from the hug. God, this was embarrassing.
"How do you feel?" Dick asked him, now returning his stare with an intense one of his own. Nix could tell he wasn't just filling the air with words, he actually wanted to know. Because that was Dick, he cared. Nix didn't know what he must've done in a past life to deserve to be on the receiving end of it, but after a while he learned to just accept it rather than question it.
"About as good as you look," Nix replied, a slow grin spreading across his face. Dick actually looked baffled, as if that were such a shocking response from Nix of all people, recently crowned King of Sarcasm (generously appointed by George Luz, who stepped down from the mantle for his sake).
"At least you make yourself laugh," Dick muttered, almost petulantly as he tried to school his expression into one that didn't show his disapproval. Dick didn't always like it when Nix refused to take things seriously. Especially when it came to his own wellbeing. In Nix's defense, it was hard to break old habits.
"Don't give me that, that was funny!" Nix complained, rolling his eyes at his friend. Dick still didn't look impressed. "Fine, fine. I don't feel good. That's what happens when you get shot, Dick. Happy? That satisfy you?"
Dick just looked at him for a long time, and Nix pressed his lips into a thin line. He hated moments like this, moments where he went too far with his joking and made Dick upset because of it. Dick would never say as such, but he'd never need to. Nix knew him better than himself, after all. Nix just didn't see the point in being all mopey and honest to the one person who is obviously sleeping very little because of what happened to you in front of them. Nix sure liked to complain and brood internally, but he often tried to lighten the mood for Dick. Seems he wasn't successful this time.
"Do you remember how it happened?"
"Well, there are these things called guns, and inside those guns, there are small things called bullets-"
"Nix."
"I'm trying, I swear," Nix chewed the inside of his cheek in frustration. This was going as down as smoothly as a gravel milkshake. "Okay, let me try that again. I...I remember everything being really fucking loud. Like, louder than usual. It hurt so badly, I just wanted it to stop. I took off my helmet, and then I heard your voice. You were saying something, I don't remember now, but whatever it was made me want to go to you. And I did. Then I was on the ground and you were right there with me. That's it."
Dick hung his head after Nix had finished speaking, shoulders tense. Nix figured most of what he's been saying to Dick hasn't been very helpful so far, so he decides to stay quiet. He watches Dick, who stays in that position for a long time. He can practically hear cogs turning in the other's head, but bites his tongue when he starts to make a joke about it. Remember Nix, that's not helping. Being silent was much harder than he thought it would be, he didn't know how Dick did it. Well, that's not true. It's easy around everyone, just not Dick. Every time Nix is around him he wants to say every word that comes into his mind. He wants to share everything. Clearly, that wasn't always the best thing for them.
Dick finally lifts his head again, and he somehow looks even more worn out than before. Nix reluctantly decides to keep going, though he was uncomfortable with sharing how he really felt. If he was going to say it, it'd only be to Dick.
"And as for your earlier question, yeah, I do feel like shit. But not cause I'm hurting, cause I'm not. They got me all doped up, I can barely feel a thing. It's because I'm stuck in here, and you're out there. You're out there and I'm not with you."
Dick nods silently, taking in his words for a few heartbeats. Nix finds he's unable to look away from Dick's gaze, it just kept pulling him in.
"I know how you feel," Dick eventually says, and Nix feels his defense come up like a stone wall, narrowing his eyes at him. Before he can inform Dick that he absolutely did not know how it felt to be in his position, Dick cut in before he could get a word out, which happened about as often as a lunar eclipse. "Not exactly how you feel. I haven't been shot in the head and then bedridden. But I know how you feel in the sense that you're trapped and afraid. When you told me you were hearing my orders to the men as though they were also to you, I thought you getting hit was my fault."
Nix's anger fades as quickly as it had appeared, his face softening into sympathy that he only seems to have available for Dick, "Dick, I didn't mean to-"
"I know, I'm not blaming you. It was just automatic. If I hadn't been...you wouldn't be..."
Nix can hardly stand watching Dick struggle for words. Composed, calm, I-Always-Know-Exactly-What-To-Say-Because-I'm-An-Angel-On-Earth Dick Winters being at a loss for words. It was unnatural, and Nix hated being the cause of it.
"Hey, don't blame yourself either," Nix scolded, reaching out to weakly smack Dick's bicep. He hated how much effort it took him to do that, but it was worth it when he saw Dick lighten up a bit.
"I missed your abuse," Dick said flatly, but there was that little playful twinkle in his eye that only appeared every once and a while, and Nix was often embarrassed by how much he desperately tried to get it to come back every time it left.
"Oh, don't worry, once I'm back in business you'll get much worse for being all vulnerable and depressing when you're supposed to be making me feel better."
"That so?" Dick grins, almost mischievously. Nix's heart skips uncomfortably at that and feels as though it jumped right into his throat, so he has to nod in reply rather than speak. The humor vanishes after Dick let it linger a moment longer, and Nix braced himself for the return to what he'd really rather not talk about. Hadn't he been honest and open enough for today? It would be a-okay with him if they just left it at that for now.
"I appreciate your honesty. And I'm sorry for being short with you there. Seeing that...and seeing you here...I'm not really me right now," Dick sighs, looking ashamed. Nix can understand that, so he nods slowly.
"It wasn't your fault. And shockingly I don't think it was my fault either. Yeah, it was dumb as hell to come out of cover, but I wasn't trying to get killed. I was just...somewhere else. But I'm alright now, and I want you to be alright too."
Dick holds eye contact for a long time, and Nix vaguely feels smug when he sees the impressed look on Dick's face. Dick nods slowly too, then glances at the side table. Nix follows his line of sight as the tension fades, and almost recoils physically.
"Don't even tell me that's what I think it is."
"The nurses say it's all your stomach can handle right now."
"They want me dead, Dick."
"You've eaten worse."
Nix appreciated that Dick let the tension of the earlier exchange fade, because he was feeling nauseous now. He gulped heavily, lips nearly quivering in disgust at the sight of the soup. It was by far the most horrible thing he'd ever had the displeasure of tasting, and now they expected him to eat it to recover? More like they wanted to finish the job the bullet failed to. Dick's voice forced his attention away from the unpleasant sight of the soup and to the very pleasant sight of his now more relaxed friend.
"I have to feed you. You're too weak right now to do it yourself."
Nix felt his stomach twist. Both because the thought of being fed made him feel pathetic and because he was certain that was the same soup that tasted like Satan cooked it. Gotta love the military. Dick followed his line of sight and raised his brows in silent question. Nix squeezed his eyes shut harshly to will away his humiliation, which hardly worked. He reopened them and moved them to look at Dick.
"Let's just get this over with," he sighed, defeated. He caught the look in Dick's eyes and scowled at him, "And none of those puppy eyes, or I'll slap that bowl right into your face."
"I just feel bad, is all. I can tell you hate this."
"Well, there's no other option. Just go on."
Dick looked like he wanted to say more but mercifully didn't. He picked up the bowl without taking his eyes off Nix, then hesitated. Nix groaned unnecessarily loudly, "What is it now, Dick?"
"Do you want to be propped up a little more?" Dick ignores the rude tone of his friend, eyes drifting to the pillow under Nix's head. Nix could see he was calculating with his eyes, as if moving Nix to sit upright a little more was a complex field maneuver. The concentration and seriousness he was seeming to allocate to such a simple task enraptured Nix a little more than he was comfortable admitting, because in his mind, it meant something more.
Like Nix was worth careful consideration and precision that was often only applied to significant actions and decisions.
He guessed that probably wasn't Dick's intention, but it didn't stop him from dreaming it was true.
"Sorry," Nix apologized for his earlier tone, but Dick didn't seem fussed about it. "That would probably be better, yes."
Dick nodded, then stood from his seat, and Nix was a little alarmed by how much he towered over him, helpless in this bed. Dick lowered himself to Nix, and he had to relax himself with the way his body immediately reacted to the motion. Just a little too eager. For what, exactly? Nix wasn't even sure of his own natural responses anymore. Maybe he was losing it.
Long fingers gently slid underneath his head and into his hair, sending tingles across his scalp. His eyes fluttered shut without him realizing it, reveling in the pleasant sensation. His head was elevated slowly as well as his pillow, and he was resituated so his head was higher up. Dick's movements were indeed careful and precise, just as Nix had predicted. He really did know him better than he knew himself, it seemed. That was either sweet or worrying, maybe a bit of both.
"Good?" Dick murmured, still very close to Nix, which wasn't exactly unwelcome, but uncommon to be initiated from the other man. Between the closeness of their bodies and their locked eyes, Nix's heart pounded so loudly he worried Dick might actually be able to hear it.
"Good enough," Nix almost whispered, feeling like the moment between them was a bit more intimate than it needed to be. For once he really hoped he didn't have enough blood in him so that way there wouldn't be any to spare for his cheeks, but judging by the warmth slowly filling them, he figured that wasn't the case. His body was being such a damn traitor.
Dick nodded his head once, and then backed off. Nix bit his tongue to distract the want for him to stay right where he was.
Dick took up the bowl and used his other hand to reach under him and pull the chair closer to the bedside as he lowered himself onto it. Nix was completely still (not that he could move much anyway), watching his every move with intense attention. Before he knew it, a metal spoon was nudged at his lower lip, and he opened his mouth for it to be filled with - ugh - very lukewarm, very awful soup. The burden of always being right about every single thing was one that was unfortunate to carry, but Nix just had to live with it.
To his absolute horror, as if the monstrosity that can hardly be called soup (seriously, it was probably closer to toilet water flavored with a year old chicken broth and some stinky vegetables than it was to soup. It was practically offensive to even classify it as the same thing, but, he digresses) wasn't bad enough, he just had to make things worse and impossibly more humiliating for himself. He must've been hungrier than he thought, cause his mouth had apparently been a bit too eager. He'd managed to spill some of the "soup" onto the corner of his mouth. It wasn't a whole lot, but this situation was already embarrassing enough, so this was just the icing on the cake.
He opened his mouth to apologize for the mess he made of himself, but Dick didn't look bothered by it. He silently swiped a thumb over Nix's mouth to remove it and took it into his mouth without thinking, as if this were routine between them. Dick didn't seem to even realize what he did until the spoon in his hand paused in the air, another spoonful of the liquid dripping down into the bowl. He stared wordlessly down at Nix, all sorts of reactions passing over his face one after the other.
Neither of them said a word.
Nix's heart was taking up all the energy he had in him with how much it was furiously pounding. He couldn't find words, and certainly wouldn't be able to voice them even if he did. Dick's cheeks noticeably tinted pink, and Nix was unfortunately aware that his were the same. Dick cleared his throat to break the heavy silence and dropped his eyes to the spoon and wiped the underside of it on the edge of the bowl to distract himself. He brought the spoon to Nix's mouth without a word, and Nix complied.
If being fed resulted in Dick doing that to him, maybe he could deal with it.
----
Nix doesn't see Dick again for a few days after that, but is startled when he hears footsteps, undoubtedly caused by boots, and turns his head to see Dick walking in his room with gauze in one hand and disinfectant the other. Nix had asked his regular nurse to prop him up with pillows, and was absolutely humiliated at how red he went when the action reminded him of the moment he and Dick shared with the "soup". Or moments. To make matters worse, she noticed, and asked if he felt a fever coming on. Nix didn't do a very good job at talking his way out of that one, and hoped the poor lady didn't get the wrong idea and tell the whole ward he had a crush on her or something. If only she knew...
"Give me your wrist."
"Isn't a doc or nurse supposed to do this?" Nix asked, but held out his wrist regardless. Dick glanced up to meet his eyes.
"They're very busy. Unfortunately," Dick added the last part quietly and it was accompanied with a small twitch of his eye.
"You sure you're qualified for this?" Nix asked instead with a smirk, but winced when Dick started unraveling the bandage.
"How hard can it be?" Dick smiled softly, amused.
"That's not something a patient wants to hear."
Dick ignored him. "Your nurse gave me permission to do this. She's very busy too."
"Did you ask to do this or were you asked to?" Nix couldn't help but ask, his gaze cutting into the softness of Dick's blue eyes. Dick took a moment to consider the question, what meaning may be lingering behind it. He bit the inside of his cheek in an uncharacteristic moment of expressing apprehension. Nix was seeing a lot of those lately.
"I asked to," he answered in a murmur, but something about his eyes made Nix think his quietness wasn't because he was shy, it was so he wasn't heard by anyone but Nix. Nix considered his expression for a moment, wondering what it was they were treading on in that moment, if it was only him who sensed it was there.
Dick was surprisingly the one to break eye contact as he focused on continuing to untangle the bandage and removing the gauze. Nix stared him down, and knew Dick could feel his eyes on him, but he refused to look at him. His fingers were deft and worked quickly, but they had the faintest shake to them.
"Did you ask to because you wanted to do a nice thing, or because you don't trust anyone to take care of me other than yourself?"
"Little bit of both," Dick answers, seemingly before he had a chance to even think about it. He flushes slightly, and Nix's eyes sparkle as a swell of pride fills him. He decides he's been cruel enough, partially because he's worried Dick might leave him earlier than he has to if he keeps pushing, so he leaves it at that.
Nix didn't know if that answer meant anything to Dick at all, but he sure as hell knew it meant something to him.
----
Another day goes by, but this one was different. Nix was a little restless, mostly worried because no one, not one nurse, medic, doctor, or whoever the hell else was in the vicinity had checked on him today, and he'd been awake for about 2 hours. He hoped it was just that he was forgotten about, and not that they were busy tending to even more wounded coming in. But they were in war, Nix reminded himself. Of course it was probably the latter.
The loneliness was excruciating. All he could do was look around at the walls and ceiling, out the window that showed him a grand view of absolute fuck all. No medical people had seen him today, but neither had any of the men, his friends. No visitors. No Harry, no Eugene, no Dick. He was completely alone. He wondered what everyone was doing, and felt himself panic as his mind immediately went down the darkest route.
What if none of his friends were visiting him because they got hit and were right here in this building with him? Helpless and alone in their own beds?
No, he couldn't go down that road, even if it were the truth. He'd completely lose it if he did. Even so, the thought of it made painful tears sting his eyes. He pushed it out of his mind, trying to not let it overtake him. He needed to switch his way of thinking now or he'd be drowning in misery more than he already was. He could use less of it, thanks.
Happy thoughts, positive thoughts, let's have some of those.
Nix realized in that moment when he tried to think of something, anything that made him happy, the first (and only) thing that came to mind was not a thing. It was a person. It was Dick.
He sits quietly with that for a moment, eyes trained on the dull ceiling. Earlier on, he probably would've been surprised at the discovery, but now he has no reaction to it. With a few long days where he had nothing but his thoughts to accompany him save for the short periods that someone would visit him, most commonly being Dick, who took care of him tenderly and without complaint, Nix had pretty much come to terms with what it was he felt for his best friend. He knew it was "wrong" to feel it, and he knew it would not be reciprocated. Dick was normal, traditional, and proper. Everything Nix wasn't. Just another thing to add to the list of what makes Lewis Nixon a deviant to the human race.
He decided, though, that of everything he's denied himself in life, he wouldn't deny his feelings. They were all he had left now. Everything else felt far away from him. Like he was a ghost of himself, wasting away on this bed instead of being out there in just as much danger as everyone else like he should've been. Like he was. When the hell would he get to leave this place?
Nix closed his eyes and wished for sleep to take him somewhere else for a while. He'd rather be anywhere but here. His thoughts still lingered on Dick. Of course it was Dick. It had always been Dick.
----
Dick comes in a few days later, and despite the fact that Nix is almost healed and is much more mobile, he insists on cleaning the wound on Nix's wrist. Nix gives up without much of a fight when he sees the haunted look on Dick's face. Things must be getting worse out there. And he's not there to feel it with Dick. He felt awful for that, but he hadn't been in good enough shape to sneak back to the men yet. Dick would probably bring him right back, too, the bastard.
"Dick, it's almost healed, now. You don't need to do all that."
Dick ignores him and carries on what he'd done previously, somehow seeming more practiced this time around. Nix can't take his eyes off him, but this time it feels different. Now that he's come to terms with what Dick is to him, what he wants Dick to be to him, it feels impossible to act like he's okay. Had he not been staring so intensely at his best friend, he might not have noticed how Dick's fingers paused on the skin of his wrist even after he'd finished what he was doing.
"What is it?" Nix asked quietly, but Dick's eyes were trained on his wrist like it were the most fascinating and complex thing he'd ever seen. If Nix were himself, he'd crack a joke, but with Dick touching him so gently, it was hard for his mind to even remember what words were.
Dick stares at where his fingers are on Nix's wrist, then lifts his eyes so they meet Nix's. Without looking away, he presses his thumb down. Nix almost jumps. Dick keeps looking at him as he asks, "Are you nervous, Nix?"
Now or never.
"I'm like this every time I'm with you. It's your fault, really," Nix tries to laugh, but it dies out quickly as the tension dissolves it into silence.
"Why?" Dick doesn't have any reaction to that, which slightly worries Nix. He doesn't know if that's good or bad.
"Because the way I feel about you makes my heart do that. Out of my control, really."
The silence between them is deafening, but at least Dick doesn't look horrified or disgusted. Nix's words were really only indicative of one thing, one thing that was not very accepted. But Dick didn't seem to have much of a response to it. Was that because he expected to hear that from Nix? Did he know this whole time?
No shying away now. It was too late, and Nix was not honest with his feelings very often. But he made a promise to himself. And this was Dick. He could tell Dick anything, no matter how hard it was. He had to. Otherwise he'd ruin everything they had for nothing. He had to drive it home.
"Dick?"
"Nix."
"Can you love me?"
"I do love you, Nix."
"Can you love me the way you're supposed to love a woman?"
"I already do."
The strangest mix of the most disbelief and most relief he's ever felt washes over Nix and nearly pulls him under and drowns him, but this time Dick is there to catch him before he can go down again. He wasn't able to be there last time, but he was there now.
"You better kiss me before I pass out again."
Dick smiles a little. "I will."
----
Nix's return to the company caused quite the ruckus, much to his surprise. The men sang happily and cheered for him, cracked a few jokes, and shared some rations they'd kept saved for him specifically. Nix was confronted with the strange thought that he felt safer and more at home with these guys out in danger than he did where he'd have immediate medical attention and there was no sign of Germans. He supposed that meant he was where he belonged, even if he didn't ever use his gun.
He was right where he needed to be. That satisfying buzz only heightened when he returned to Dick's side, who said everything he needed to with his eyes when he looked at him. Now they were really alright.