#awe yeah baby we're getting into Zenie's fatal flaws now!!

[softguarnere]

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 13: Dear Zena

Summary: Zenie turns, ready to apologize to a pretty blonde and move on with her life – with her lie(s) – when she’s met with someone else instead.

A/N: Completely off topic, but it is important to me that you know that in a modern au Bill, Babe, Zenie, George, and Joe all meet at college and have a group chat called "The Philly Five"

Warnings: guns

Taglist: @latibvles @liebgotts-lovergirl @mrs-murder-daddy @ithinkabouttzu @lieutenant-speirs

England, 1944

The line outside the brothel is long and full of fellow soldiers who are not willing to die in the next phase of the war with their virginity intact. Even some of the Army’s most religious seem to have come to the conclusion that this might be their only chance to enjoy certain types of pleasure. After everyone they lost in France, it’s quickly become obvious that life is short, and nothing is guaranteed. They might as well stop to enjoy the Piccadilly Lillis along the way.

“I know we’re in the middle of a war and everything, but do you really think you’ll need that right now?”

When they headed out for the night, no one said anything when Earl shouldered his rifle and brought it with them. After the night’s destination had been decided, the most they could do was cast him a half-hearted and confused look. But something about standing in line with someone holding a gun while everyone else roams about weaponless and carefree is a very surreal experience.

McClung smirks at her. “The real question is: why didn’t you guys bring yours?”

No, the real question is: how did Zenie manage to get herself roped into this?

The line moves forward, reminding her that there is no escape this time. Brushing off the pin-up her friends gifted her was one thing. Her excuse about preferring blondes won’t do her any good now. Because, as Skinny dutifully informed her, the brothel is sure to have something to her liking.

“Well now, I don’t think a man really needs a rifle when he’s tryin’ to be intimate with a lady,” Shifty points out. “Seems like it might get in the way, put her off.”

Skinny grins as he elbows him. “How would you know?”

In the dim glow coming from the building, they can all see Shifty’s cheeks tinge pink. He laughs, but the line moves forward once again before he can answer, and suddenly they’re inside.

Everything happens so quickly that Zenie’s plan of action seems obsolete. She’s hardly in the door before Skinny slaps her on the back and loudly proclaims, “This man is in desperate need of a blonde!” and then she’s being led upstairs where a woman with aggressive lipstick and a too bright smile deposits her in a room and tells her to be patient.

Zenie is pacing the floor the second that the door shuts. So much for managing to slip out the back and meet up with everyone later. She had been planning to lie about what a great time she had, but now her biggest problem is concocting a lie that will get her out of here without hurting some innocent woman’s feelings in the process.

The door squeaks open and shut behind her. The words, excuses, explanations, are tumbling from her mouth before she’s even turned around.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I – “ Zenie turns, ready to apologize to a pretty blonde and move on with her life – with her lie(s) – when she’s met with someone else instead. “Oh.”

Shifty stands before her. He casts a nervous glance back at the door before he says in a soft voice, “I was worried that you might not agree to come along tonight.”

“I couldn’t figure out a good excuse to get out of it without seeming suspicious.”

“It’s good though, that you came. It gives us a minute, you know, to talk.”

I think we should. When we’re alone. When it’s safer, he had said when she asked if he wanted to talk about what happened. Well, now they’re alone and arguably in a safer environment. Giddiness unlike almost anything that she’s ever felt before fills Zenie’s stomach. They kissed and now they’re alone. They kissed and now they get to be alone and talk. It’s enough that she can brush off the impending worry that it might be the only chance they ever have to do so – uncertainty and morality still lurk behind every corner.

Shifty gestures toward the bed behind her. It’s rather large, a good size, but they sit close to each other when they take a seat. It’s not uncomfortable, exactly. Their knees are against each other, but they’re also slightly angled towards the door, just in case. Zenie can ignore that though, because the second that they’re on the bed, Shifty takes her hand in his, and a feeling unlike anything that she’s ever known before fills her with such happiness that they could be sitting in an arctic tundra and she wouldn’t mind.

He squeezes her hand and something about it makes her laugh a little.

“So . . .” she says, not sure where to start. It’s silly, the way that she suddenly wishes that she were different. (Although, to be fair, when is she not wishing that?) Maybe if things had gone differently with Elijah Woodard, or if any other boy had ever noticed her . . . If Marilyn taught her how to talk to boys, or how to exist in a way that wasn’t an awkward product of her own introspectiveness, this might be easier. “What do you wanna talk about?”

Shifty rubs his thumb over her knuckles. His dark eyes watch their intwined hands as he repeats the motion methodically. She watches him as he does it. No more pretending not to look at him after casting quick glances his way. God, he’s beautiful. This thing they’ve created – these little moments of peace in the midst of chaos – are beautiful.

“I keep thinkin’ about France,” Shifty says finally. “On D-Day. See, I was scared for all my friends, but I was terrified for you. Because of your, uh . . . situation.”

She squeezes his hand and he squeezes hers back.

“And all through Carentan. Everywhere we’ve gone, everywhere we’ve fought, I keep worryin’ about you.”

“I’ve been worried about you, too.” It’s probably dangerous, to say aloud the thoughts that have been whispering in the back of her mind. It makes them more real. But she says it anyway. “I hope that we both make it through this.”

“Me too.” He nods.

“I wish we’d been able to talk sooner. Not even just about the kiss. About anything, everything. So much has happened. I just kept looking for you, hoping that we would get to talk . . . that you were okay.”

The bed creaks slightly as Shifty moves his weight, his hand going still in hers. “That’s kinda what I was hopin’ to talk to you about.”

“Oh?”

“This,” Shifty says, biting his lip and looking at their joined hands instead of meeting her eye. “is dangerous.”

He’s realized it too, then. Everything that Zenie has been trying to protect since the morning that she grabbed her belongings and started across the field and down the road to Toccoa could be laid bare in the open in just a second if she gets caught – if they get caught; Shifty is a part of this, too.

“See, if someone saw us together – in an intimate fashion – how would we explain ourselves? We would be in trouble. The only way to explain would be – “

“To give myself up.” Zenie finishes. “And then . . .”

A short sigh is released as Shifty pats the top of her hand.

“Zena,” he says simply. The way that he says her name still makes her heart thrum. Except this time, it also sends a wave of panic over her. Something in his tone hints at danger, like clouds gathering on the horizon. “I like you. I like bein’ around you. Hell, I liked kissin’ you after we jumped outta that plane . . . But I don’t want to be the reason that somethin’ bad happens to you. I don’t want you to be at risk because of me.”

All the “I don’t want’s” override anything positive that might have lurked in the “I like’s.” It would have hurt less if he had kissed her best friend in the middle of the dance floor at a Christmas party, like Elijah Woodard did in high school.

Her mouth goes so dry it makes her tongue stick to the roof of her mouth. How is she supposed to respond? She’s still holding his hand. And the worst part is, she doesn’t want to let go, even though he just told her that he doesn’t want to be with her.

“I – We . . .” She fumbles several times. Now she can feel his eyes on her, and she can’t look at him. The room feels too hot. She wonders if he can feel the heat coming from her palms as she embarrasses herself. Looking at Shifty always felt like trying to sneak glances at the sun. Being near him felt like sitting in its warmth. Being rejected by him is like being burned by it.

One time she read the story of Icarus for an English class in high school. It always seemed so awful, to fall from the sky the second that he was so close to his freedom – the thing that he wanted most. And all because he flew too high, too close to the sun. As her face burns with shame, she knows how he felt; Zenie from the Bird Clan has flown too far from the world she knows and straight into trouble.

She doesn’t want to let him go.

“We’ve been so careful. We could work something out, maybe?”

Shifty is quiet. It’s all the answer that she needs. I don’t want . . . he said.

He doesn’t want you, the voice in the back of her mind yells.

“I don’t think there’s any way it would work, to keep you safe,” Shifty says finally.

A hundred half-baked plans rush through her mind. None of them bare any fruit. Not really. Each one is more unrealistic than the last. She’s grasping at straws and she knows it. Especially with Shifty so confidently telling her that there’s no way this could work. She just looks desperate.

He squeezes her hand again. “But maybe we – “

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Shots ring out from downstairs. Hysteric screams follow, hot on their heels.

Zenie and Shifty jump apart as quickly as someone pulling their hand away from a hot eye on a stove. Fitting, really, considering that one of them just got burned. For a moment they stand frozen, looking between each other and the door, hearts racing, even though they haven’t been caught.

Haven’t been caught. Zenie’s heart falters. Shifty was right. They could have been caught, just like that. It would be that easy to slip up, to get them into trouble.

She jumps when she feels his hand on her elbow, drawing her back to the moment at hand. He doesn’t look upset, but he also isn’t smiling like he usually would be. His expression just looks . . . open, somehow, like he doesn’t have to hide anymore now that he’s said what he’s been wanting to say.

“We can talk about this more another time.”

When the shock wears off, they make their way down the stairs to find Earl standing in the middle of the room, holding his rifle high with a smile on his lips and a gleam in his eye. The women of the brothel look panicked, but the other soldiers just look annoyed by the disturbance.

Shifty reaches the bottom of the stairs first. “Earl? What’re you doin’?”

McClung smiles wider, then shrugs, shouldering his rifle. “Let’s get outta here.”

Zenie, for one, doesn’t protest, even though they can’t seem to find Skinny in the crowd. They head off without him. After the past few minutes that she’s had, Zenie can only half-heartedly feel bad about leaving him behind. Skinny is a smart guy – he can fend for himself.

She bids them a rushed good night when they reach the stables that she’s quartered in. McClung is in such a happy mood that she doubts he’ll notice if she seems suspicious. She doesn’t wait to see what Shifty does.

Everyone is quiet when she steps into the stable. The few men that have already returned from their passes are standing in front of their beds as an officer pilfers through their things, searching under their beds.

Bill’s expression is cool. He nods a greeting to her before fixing his eyes on the searching officer.

Zenie is about to ask what’s going on when a creaking noise from overhead draws her eyes up to the ceiling. She’s hardly had the chance to wonder what’s making the noise when a long, toned leg comes crashing through it, followed by loud giggles and a girl calling out, “Oh, Billy!”

Two girls are found in the ceiling storage compartment. Even though Bill is getting chewed out for their presence, they seem to be having the time of their life with all the attention they’re getting from the shocked men around them.

The officer assigns Bill to kitchen police and escorts the girls from the stable. Before he leaves, he turns and scowls at them.

“I better not find any more women being harbored in this stable!”

Something about it makes Zenie dissolve into a fit of giggles the second that the door slams shut. Other men laugh along with her, but they don’t get the joke like she does. She laughs so hard that she collapses onto her bunk with tears streaming from her eyes and has to bury her face in her pillow so that no one will realize that her loud laughter has turned into harsh sobs.