#toye x mcclung

[runaeveena]

i give you the band of brothers character iceberg inspired by [x]

full detailing under the cut

Tier 1, signified by a stock image photo of an old man sitting on a bench with the words "Why don't you watch some TV with your ol' peepaw?" next to him.

- Winters, Nixon, Speirs, Compton, Luz, Lipton, Sobel, Roe

- this is the most basic tier. these are the characters your stepdad in the military remembers from watching the show after his tour or what your high school history teacher knows. hell this is what jimmy fallon remembers from the show.

Tier 2, signified by a screenshot of two 10+ old youtube videos entitled "Band of Brothers Funniest Moments"

- Guarnere, Webster, Malarkey, Liegbott, Toye, Randleman, Heffron, Blithe, Perconte

- this tier shows youve seen the show more than once, also best characterized by my college friend who would show me these videos as soon as i mentioned i liked bob despite the fact that he didnt actually know anything about world war two

Tier 3, signified by a tweet found here that basically makes fun of the current 101st Airborne

- Muck, Talbert, Dike, Grant, Sisk, Wynn, Sink, Powers, Hoobler, Welsh, Spina, Garcia, Penkala, Hall

- this is entering true fandom territory. youve seen the show more than five times or interact with enough bob content to pick up other characters. or youre an obsessed military official who uses bob as propaganda to stir up the current airborne infantry

Tier 4, signified by a screenshot of the Band of Brothers reddit tag

- O'Keefe, Tipper, Meehan, Cobb, More, Heyliger, Janovec, Gordon, Evans, Strayer, Christenson, Peacock, Miller, Hashey

- you are actually genuinely unfortunately a deep fan of this show and you are forever marked

Tier 5, signified by the tumblr tag #hbo war

- Ramirez, Alley, Vest, McClung, Shames, Dukeman, Van Klinken, Julian, Lorraine, Plesha, Petty

- hi girlies ;)

Tier 6 and 7, signified by the front page of the Band of Brothers fandom wiki page

- Smith Jr., Zielinski, Lesniewksi

- Boyle, Rodgers, Mellet

- as stated in my little notes, if you're an admin for the bob fandom wikia you have more power than anyone in the world like the level of imdb searching this requires is more harrowing than actual war

Tier 8, signified by a screenshot of the Stephen E. Ambrose Austria tours with Band of Brothers casts, a screenshot of Matthew Leitch's reunion youtube with other actors, and the Dead Eyes Podcast cover

- the other Zielinski

- you know way to much to be a weird fan

Tier 9, signified by a stock image of a pile of books

- Burr Smith

- you are a scholar

[onelungmcclung]

OMG I loved that last one!! Can I have more? Like maybe “Keeping a Secret” or “Two Roads” or “Relaxation” or Toye and McClung?!? ❤️❤️❤️

Also I really like your definition of 5 sentences. You should keep that. 😂❤️

x. keeping a secret / two roads / relaxation

Aldbourne, July 1944.

He’s not sure how far he’s walked, or for how long, or exactly where he is now. Time alone is a luxury he’s never had much of, if at all, and even less in the army. Sometimes close quarters feel too close. It feels like he’s still walking out the confinement of the ship, the planes, now the village. Maybe England feels smaller. All he knows is he’s travelled farther over the past couple of years than he had in his entire life before the war, same as most of them.

When he turns and looks back down the grass track, he finds he’s lost all sight of Aldbourne. (The relief of being alone like the relief of a ceasefire. And the stillness like the waiting of a ceasefire.) No lights in the darkness, nothing silhouetted against the sky.

This soon after the return from Normandy, the rules are lax. A lot of the guys are using their weekend passes, and it doesn’t much matter where he is. Usually he would have used the pass to head out of Aldbourne too, but this one time he didn’t want to. Tonight it feels like the quietest place he’s ever known.

Ahead of him the path intersects with another. Nothing to choose between them in the darkness; easier to find his way back if he doesn’t change direction, he thinks. It’s on his left he sees a figure approaching – another paratrooper, he’s pretty sure, though he doesn’t yet recognise who. For a moment too much in shadow, for a moment everything unfamiliar, then it changes to familiarity: the shape, the silent gait, the angles of his face. Unsurprising, somehow, that it’s McClung.

He hadn’t made much effort to get to know McClung at first. Not a Toccoa guy, after all. But a few weeks, maybe a month or so, had gone by and he’d started to think he should. McClung came into the company already knowing more than most of them had, probably more than some guys still do, though Joe’s never said any of that out loud. It’s been a year now, and they know each other well enough, but after combat – he realises – is a different kind of knowing.

And so he’s not surprised because he’s learned many small things about everyone and McClung has this singular quality about him, this way of doing something a little unexpected. So if anyone was going to show up here, when Joe thought there was nobody else in a mile’s radius, it figures it would be McClung.

Joe thinks he’s about to turn back towards Aldbourne, but instead McClung falls into step beside him.

“Where’re you headed?”

“Nowhere,” McClung says. “Walked a few miles, looped back around, heard you.”

“Heard me.” He’d thought he’d been pretty quiet – learned that in the mine, learned it more in the army – but Mac’s always been someone, maybe the only one, he can’t get anything past. Still, he’s not convinced.

“From a mile off,” McClung says, unkindly.

Joe had expected to be the only one out here, everyone else in London or maybe some other city. If he’s honest with himself, the idea of being in a city now had felt jarring, too much noise, too many people. He’ll get over that, soon.

“Thought you’d gone to London,” he says. Not that he’d paid close attention.

“Yeah,” McClung says, a little absently, “tomorrow, maybe.”

Joe doesn’t ask why.

He says instead, “So you’re avoiding everyone?”

McClung makes an affirmative noise. “Fucking ship,” he says briefly, from which Joe figures the Normandy crossing was an unwelcome reminder of the SS Samaria to McClung, too.

“How about avoiding me?”

“Got unlucky.”

He’d been worried about McClung after the jump, when the platoon had been scattered – about all of them – but not as uneasy as he might have been. He’d always had an instinct that Mac would be OK. Still, something in him had eased when McClung rejoined them, and he hasn’t altogether shaken that feeling. Joe would rather go into combat with him than without him.

And McClung’s corporal now, which Toye would have expected sooner or later anyway, but most of them have been promoted now, after Normandy. As if Mac’s thoughts are running along similar lines, Joe sees him glance at his new sergeant stripes.

“You’d better not undermine my authority,” he says.

Mac shrugs. “You’ve outranked me for a while already,” he says. “We’ll see if it makes any difference.”

He looks at Joe, expressionless, which Joe knows how to read by now.

Joe says, “You’re a liability.”

“That’s my job.”

“Yeah, save it for the enemy.”

The promotion feels good, right now. Maybe later it won’t, when they jump again. Returning to England, it felt like they’d won the first round, like that protects them now. And far deep down he knows there’s nothing true about that: a warning sense that he won’t, can’t, listen to.

Aldbourne’s a good place for walking: fields, farm tracks, drovers’ roads, small forests. No light, out here, except the moon. Bright enough to see the path, bright enough to see McClung: illuminating his face, his hands, against the shadowed lane. The darkness of the warm summer night still feels quiet and private, as if Mac showing up unexpectedly was no interruption, just a natural and inevitable part of it. He’s someone who it’s easy to be quiet with.

“Weren’t you heading back?”

“Got to make sure you don’t get lost,” McClung says. But then, more quietly, “I’ll head back if you want.”

Joe shakes his head. Somehow that’s the last thing he wants now. “What if I get lost?” he says, and Mac laughs, which Joe realises doesn’t happen too often.

If McClung had gone back to the village, like Joe had expected, he’d have thought that was what he wanted, but it wouldn’t have been. Under that feeling lie things he doesn’t want to think about.

He’s walking a little slower now than he did before Mac showed up. His shoulder bumps McClung’s accidentally, but McClung doesn’t put any distance between them. The night feels like something that’s theirs, some shared secret. He wants it to last. He thinks maybe McClung’s watching him a little, but he doesn’t mind that. Likes it, maybe.

Eventually they’ll have to turn back, of course, and he feels a strange pull of regret for it, now. But that’s not yet, none of what’s to come is yet, he can forget. He can be alone, the two of them, and believe this is the only part that matters.

He’ll never talk about this night with anyone else, and with McClung he’ll never need to talk about it. But he thinks he’ll remember it. For this place, for this time, and because of Earl.

[labarboteuse]

Your requests are open?! I'd love to ask for something with Babe, if you don't mind luv 🥰

Hello dear! You asked for it and here it is! Sorry it took so long. I hope you'll like it. Enjoy ! ❤️

As always, there's no disrespect towards the real men of the company. It's only based on their portrayals in the mini serie.

The scarf (Edward "Babe" Heffron x reader)

After months of trying to hide their relationship from others, Babe and the reader are finally getting busted.

Warning: coarse language

Also I’m creating a taglist, tell me in comment if you want to be added and be notified of the following ones! ☺️

Recently arrived in Germany the Company had moved to Landsberg am Lech, a town in Bavaria, and their mission had become much calmer than it had been in Bastogne and Haguenau.  Everyone was enjoying the nice weather of April and went about their business while waiting for orders. Y/N had enjoyed this morning to sit quietly in a corner and write letters to her family and friends, informing them she was still alive, that she was fine and that she was now in Germany. She had then gone to the post office where Allen Vest was in charge of the mail. 

“Morning Vest!” She sang in a cheerful voice as she approached the counter where she put down her letters and dragged them towards him.  

“Hi Y/N, hey, that's a lot of letters for one person.”

She smiled and put her both hands on the counter, tapping the varnished wood with her fingertips. Indeed, she had taken the time to write to her parents, her sister, her uncle and a general letter addressed to her group of friends who met each time to read her letters.

“Yes, I’m enjoying this time of lull, after all we don’t know where we’re going to be sent next time.”

Allen took the letters while gently smiling at her and then went to the back of the room to classify the letters to be sent and rummaging through a pile of other letters he came back to her one in his hand.

“I thought well I saw one with your name on it.”

He reached out to her and was about to add something when the door opened sharply and Speirs appeared with his arms full of objects shining in the sunlight. As he approached the counter, Allen nodded to Y/N to make her understand he had to take care of Speirs. She smiled at him and walked out of the building with her letter in her hands. She immediately recognized the fine italicized handwriting and smiled excited to know what it was about. She walked along the buildings as she read the letter, which provoked a huge smile on her lips when she was suddenly pulled into a corner between two buildings and drawn away from prying eyes.

She began to laugh as the man who had lured her there, placed behind her, wrapped his arms around her waist, came to place a kiss on her neck and put his head on her shoulder.

“I missed you so much.”

“We've literally been living together for eight months.” She laughed, placing her hands on his forearms resting on her belly.

“You know exactly what I mean.” He moaned as he put his chin on her shoulder and looked at the letter she was still holding in her hands. “What is it?”

She looked down at the letter and unfolded it to put it in front of his eyes.

“My sister announces me that she’s finally getting married! It's planned for next winter, she obviously hopes that by then it will all be over and I'll be home.” Her voice became lower and dull at the end of her sentence. Of course everyone was hoping for it, but no one really knew what tomorrow was all about and where they would be and when.

Babe tightened his clinch and kissed the top of her head.

“Are you planning to go alone?” His question caused her to pout and then she laughed.

“Are you asking me if, if all this happy mess is over, I'll ask you to come with me?” He shrugged his shoulders and had a sly smile.  “We don't even know where we'll be, and let's say we go back, we'll pick up our lives where we left it off, and they probably weren't going in the same direction.” She continued.

She fell silent and stared at the letter in her hands, for the few months she have been going out with Babe she had never thought what would happen once they got home, if they got home. Babe untied his arms around her and slid his hands over her hips to make her turn to him.

“I know that wherever yours goes, I will follow it.”

Her heart clutched to his words, she had not expected him to make this kind of announcement at all, the smile on his face made her melt and she wrapped her arms around his neck, kissed him tenderly and then came to put her head on his shoulder. They stayed hidden like that for a few minutes, taking advantage of finally being able to speak to each other with more than just distant smiles.  

Since the Company had returned to England after the D-Day and had met the replacements Y/N and Babe had become inseparable, at last, until they started dating. They had chosen not to tell the others about it so that the others wouldn’t spend their time teasing them. They had managed to keep the secret until now, which had been difficult since they were constantly surrounded by the other men. In order to prevent them from suspecting something Y/N and Babe had to stick to the friendly relationship that the others knew about them. Nevertheless, they had always managed to slip away for a moment for a hug or a kiss, all the way to Bastogne. They had never been so far away from each other when they were closer than ever physically. Being constantly surrounded by others in the middle of the woods and sharing their foxholes with different people, they could only look at each other from a distance. At best, they sat next to each other during the few moments when everyone was together, constantly living with the frustration of, at least, not being able to touch each other's hands.  

A couple of times, Babe had managed join her when she was alone, while McClung, with who she was shearing her foxhole, was going out for a ride. But it had happened only a few times, and further apart so as not to arouse suspicion. These times would had been counted on the fingers of only one hand. She too had sometimes managed to join him but unfortunately they were almost never alone. One of the only contacts they could have had without anyone questioning was when Julian was killed, she would have died of pain if she hadn't been able to comfort him, it was the only time they could hold each other without it seeming weird. After that, for several days, it had been unbearable for him not to be able to take her in his arms when it was she who started brooding. To be able to take her in his arms, to interlace her fingers with his own, to caress her cheek and whisper to her that everything would be all right. This time he had been on the verge of cracking up, because instead of his place, there was Toye. Joe was constantly near her to cheering up her moral and several times had taken her in his arms. Bill's recurring jokes about Toye flirting with Y/N were upsetting Babe, who would have wanted told his friend to shut up. Being almost always with Guarnere, he therefore constantly heard his jokes. His only comfort was the smiles and looks of Y/N to reassure him.

But now they were away from it all, they just had to take advantage of the lull that presented itself and allowed them to spend time together out of sight.  

“We'd better get to the others before they wonder where we are.” She reluctantly detached herself from him. “You're leaving first?” Obviously they weren’t to be seen coming out of a corner together, that would have been the worst thing to attract attention.  

He nodded and kissed her before taking a look at the street so he can get out. Y/N waited few minutes before being able to follow in his footsteps and reached the building where she was staying. Entering the building, she heard noises coming from one of the rooms of the first floor which was a big living-room and headed there. Liebgott was sitting on a chair, crossed legs on the table, was discussing with Popeye and Babe who had probably come here voluntarily to be in the same vicinity as her, which had the merit of making her smile, was leaning next to them against a piece of furniture. She joined them as Alley, Talbert, Janovec, and More arrived in the biggest racket they could make and took their places around the table.

Y/N remained standing on the other side of the table, leaning against the wall, while Babe in front of her was join by Skinny who had just arrived. Her eyes were drawn to something sticking out of Babe's pocket, her heart quickened and she tried to catch his attention with desperate glances, if he didn't notice then they were busted.  

A small scarf she had given him was sticking out of his jacket pocket. She had taken with her a scarf that had belonged to her grandmother and that she had recovered when she died. She had always kept it on her ever since and had always managed to hide it so that it wouldn't be taken away like the rest of their personal belongings when she arrived in Toccoa. She valued it very highly, and when she was feeling bad, she would take it out and hold it close to her, remembering happy memories of her grandmother who she missed terribly.  

The only person today for who she had been able to part with it, was someone who meant as much to her as her grandmother, Babe. She gave it to him as the most important thing for her, making him understand how much she cared for him. As they didn’t belong to the same platoon they were not always brought to be close to each other, and the scarf was like her presence to him, so that somehow they are always together. Since then he kept it preciously knowing what it meant to her.

When Babe's gaze caught hers, she tried to make him understand that the object was sticking out of his pocket by throwing looks at him and then at his pocket several times before anyone saw it, but he didn't understand and it was too late. Joe had turned his head to address him and his gaze had landed on the object of the crime. With a small laugh he gently pulled it out.

“Well, well, well, what do we have there? Isn't there something you're not telling us Babe?”

Embarrassed, he understood what she had wanted to warn him about and babbled, not knowing what to say. Y/N came to his rescue, looking surprised, she approached Joe and took the scarf of his hands.  

“Eh that’s mine! Where did you find it?”

It took Babe a split second before he realized she was saving his ass and played along.

“I found it by chance on the floor this morning and I was going to bring it back to you, it must have slipped my mind in the meantime.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked sorry.

Joe looked at them suspiciously, not at all convinced, his gaze going back and forth between Y/N and Babe who unfortunately always seemed embarrassed. Feeling Joe's insistent gaze on her, she finally dropped a “What?” He squinted his eyes as if he was trying to read her soul.  

“Throw out the crap that burns your lips, Joe.”

“Are you two fucking together?”

All heads turned to Y/N and Babe, some surprised, others giving the impression of having heard the biggest gossip of the century.

“No!” They both exclaimed.

“He’s like my baby brother!”

Babe flinched at her words, he knew she was just saying that to keep up appearances, but all the same, this false friendzoning was rather violent.

“So you're fucking your baby brother?” Joe continued with a smirk on his face, still not believing it for a second.

“Jeez, Joe!” She exclaimed in disgust.

Malarky arrived at that moment having only heard the end of the conversation.

“Who's fucking who?”

“Y/N is debauching Babe.” Laughed More.

“Jeez!” Malark exclaimed as he sat down, a more than amused look on his face.

“Stop it! All of you! Nobody fucks anybody!”

Babe was still silent next to her, completely uptight. The boys were laughing at their greatest embarrassment when Luz, who had heard only fragments of the conversation from the next room, arrived with a cigarette lit.

“Who's gonna have a baby?”

Which fueled the boys' hilarity, Y/N raised her hands and clenched them in fists and roared in frustration before going out cursing them. As for Babe, he didn't know what to do, if he stayed there he was going to be teased by his friends, but if he followed her he would agree with them and would grill himself.  

With her cheeks on fire, Y/N left the building to get some fresh air, finding a small wall in the shade and, away from the crowd, she sat down and lit a cigarette before puffed at it when a shadow came and hid the sun from her. She raised her head, squinting because of the brightness, and reached out her arm, offering her cigarette to Luz who had just joined her. He picked it up and as he held it to his lips, sat down on the wall beside her.  

“You and Babe then?” he asked with a sly smile on his lips. So her diversion hadn't worked, at least she had tried. She turned her head towards him raising an eyebrow, a slight smile on the corners of her lips as she waited for him to pull out a joke. But he didn't, instead, he took the cigarette from his lips with his right hand, and as he blew the smoke, passed his left arm around her shoulders.

“If it had been anyone else, I wouldn't have accepted it. But Heffron? I can get used to it.”

She laughed and took the cigarette from his hands and puffed at it again.

“Is this your way to give me your blessing?”

George was the person she was closest to since Toccoa. Even without the incident that had just happened, he had probably guessed what had been going on for a few months. The two had quickly went together like horse and carriage, they had found each other in their humour, and their ability to make others laugh and make jokes. George soon considered her as a little sister and she as a big brother. As soon as the replacements had arrived he saw that she and Babe had gradually grown closer and that they had probably become more than friends. He had been happy for her and continued to look after her from afar.  

“So everyone knows about it? Or did you just sniff it out?” She asked, shoving him gently, which made him giggle.

“Let's say I've seen you gradually change, especially when you're with him.”

If the others probably didn't suspect anything, after the scene that just happened, they will most likely have suspicions.Y/N bit the inside of her cheek and made a grimace that made George smile and took the cigarette out of her hand.

“What are you worried about? No one will say anything, at worst they will tease you for a while before they get bored and move on.”

“That's exactly what we wanted to avoid.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You know it will be just joking, in all kindness.”

She turned her eyes towards him and he gently pushed her around, which made her smile. George was right, there wouldn't be anything mean about it, and she never doubted it, it would just make her embarrassed that everyone would turn to them and tease them every time they were in each other's presence. But as he said, it would only be temporary, the time they spend on something else.  

“You're right, it wouldn't be the end of the world, and we wouldn't have to hide anymore.”

He nodded his head and winked at her.

“Listen to the voice of reason.” She guffawed what made him smile, he stood up and kissed her on the forehead before returning to the building. Y/N stayed sitting on the wall for a few minutes thinking about what George had said. She had finally agreed with herself that her fear was unjustified, the Company members were so benevolent to each other, why would they go against this relationship? Other than to tease and embarrass them, what could they possibly say? They were already spending all their time making fun of each other and joking that nothing would be different. It was out of fear of being embarrassed by the mockery of others that they had chosen to hide, when they would only be mocked among so many others. She shook her head gently as she realized that this decision had been ridiculous. To have done otherwise would surely have saved them from frustration when they had found themselves far away when they needed each other the most. They had to stop hiding, and once the others knew about it, they could enjoy each other in peace. Loud noises of voices caught her attention and she turned her head towards the group of men a few yards away. She put out her cigarette and stood up to see what was going on. Two groups had formed, one playing soccer and the other surrounding them, each one cheering for the team they stood for.

She saw Babe from afar and made her way to him. As she stood next to him, she slipped her hand into his as he turned his head towards her with a questioning look. Y/N gave him a warm smile that he returned to her. To hell with what they might say.

[stillbandofbrothersthirsty]

Blue Ain’t Your Color

Joe Liebgott x OC

His eyes were on her and her eyes were on Malarkey. An unexpected pang of jealously shot through his heart. Frankie was nothing more than a kid-sister to Joe, he reminded himself. He had only conspired with Luz to dress her up like a real girl for the laugh. But he wasn't laughing now.

It sounded like a laugh when they first  came up with the idea to dress Frankie up like a real girl. She would  have the chance to take her shot at Malark dolled up to the nines, and  Joe would be entertained by the ridiculous sight of Frankie in a dress:  win, win.

The idea had started as a whim when they passed a store in town that had a beautiful light blue dress in the window.

"What I wouldn't give to see a woman in that," Joe had said half-joking.

"Lucky  you there's a dance this weekend," Luz said, lighting up a cigarette, "Oh shit!" he said as if hit by a stroke of genius, "you know who would  look good in that dress? Frank!"

"I hope you don't mean Perco."

"Yes,  Joe, I mean Frank Perconte. Looks just his size! No! Frankie, how good  would she look in that?" Joe could barely remember Frankie was a girl let alone picture her in that dress. But he was bored and curious.

Luz grinned mischievously, "should we get it for her?"

"She wouldn't wear it."

"She would if we bought it for her. She'd feel guilty we spent all that money."

"Yeah about all that money…"

"Oh ��come on Lieb, it's not like you've got anywhere else to spend it!   Unless you're paying Sobel to sneak into your tent at night."

Joe shot Luz a dirty look. "Fine, fuck it, let's get it."

"And lipstick too!" Luz said over his shoulder, he was already entering the store.

"Lipstick?"

"Yeah, lipstick! All the dames wear it, we can't send her out without lipstick."

They had waited until the night of to give the dress to Frankie. That way, she couldn't find a way to back out.

"You got plans tonight Frankie?" Luz had asked.

"Not  a single one," she said unsuspectingly. She was lounged across Luz's   bunk, lazily flipping through a magazine. "I hope you guys have fun   tonight though!" She said as an afterthought, looking up. The men were   bustling around her, taking pulls from contraband flasks, greasing their  hair, and straightening ties.

"Why don't you come with us, doll?" Bill asked.

"Nah, you guys go have a good time," Frankie waved her hand dismissively.

"Frank, when was the last time you dolled yourself up and hit the town?" Luz asked.

She looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "Um how about never, Luz?" she said dryly, "who 'hits the town'?"

"Never? In all twenty years of your life?" Joe mocked.

She moved to kick him but he dodged out of the way. "I haven't got a dress."

"Poof! Problem solved!" Luz announced. He dropped a brown, paper-wrapped package on her magazine.

"What the hell's this?" She asked.

"Happy birthday!" Luz said with fanfare.

"It's not my birthday, George."

"What's that?" Perconte came up to Luz's bunk, brushing his teeth.

"Good news," Luz smacked him on the shoulder, "the better-looking Frank is coming out with us."

"You wearin' your OD, Fran?" Perco asked.

"No, she's a woman, women wear dresses," Luz said.

"Is that what's in the package?" Perconte asked.

"Yeah,  and it'll look great! Come on now, hop to it now kid!" Joe clapped his  hands at Frances. She stood up hesitantly, "you're kidding me," she   said.

"Afraid not, kiddo, get changed!" Joe said.

Frances   disappeared into the back of the barracks for some privacy. A lot of the  guys were already dressed and were trickling out the door.

"Any day now Frankie!" Luz called.

"No laughing!" she shouted back.

"Are you saying my taste in women's clothing is funny?" Luz retorted. He turned to Joe and Perconte chuckling.

"Oh  wow," Perconte exhaled. Luz snapped his head back to where Frances had  just entered the light. She still wore her short combat boots but the blue dress fit perfectly. It clung to her hips and chest, revealing   curves Joe had never realized were there.

"How's it look?" she asked timidly.

"Wow," Luz echoed.

"You  look," Joe was lost for words. She wasn't anything close to what he had  expected. In his mind, she was just a little girl who happened to know a  thing or two about bandaging wounds. But in this dress, she was a  woman. Joe cleared his throat, "fits well!"

"I told ya," Luz said, "I got great taste."

"The shoes though?" Perconte asked.

"Yeah, Frankie baby, you gotta take those off," Luz said.

"I don't have any other shoes!" She protested.

"Well good thing good ol' Luz thinks of everything," Luz said. "Joe, grab the shoes…and the lipstick!"

"Lipstick?" Frances asked apprehensively.

"Yeah, lipstick," Joe tossed the tube at her and she caught it perfectly, "apparently all the dames wear it."

"I'm not wearing heels," Frances said as Luz produced a pair of black pumps.

"Look,"  Joe turned on his most convincing voice, "this could be your chance to  win over Malarkey. Ya know, get a little drink, a little dance, a little  smooch…"

Frances blushed furiously.

"He's right," Luz nodded enthusiastically.

"You can't wear your boots with that dress," Perconte added. He checked his watch, "come on, times a' tickin'."

"It'll look great, Franks, I swear. Joe and I wouldn't spend money and let ya look bad would we?" Luz said.

Well, Joe hadn't wanted her to look bad but didn't expect her to look that good.

Joe  had met Mary Frances his first week at Fort Bragg after he had gotten into a small bar fight with one of the privates in another company. McClung had led him to the medical building with a bloody lip.

"You idiot, you'll definitely need stitches and there will be no hiding it. Sobel will be all over you in the morning."

"Yeah,  he wishes he could be all over me," was the only retort I had in me. My  head was spinning – Joe couldn't tell if it was because of the punch  he'd taken straight to the jaw or the alcohol he had drunk that night.

Frances  had been the only one left in the medical building when they arrived. She  was perched beside a cot with a single lamp on. Beside her was a basket  of muslin bandages which she was rolling into neat balls. She wasn't  dressed like a nurse. Instead, she was wearing the O.D. greens that  every other medic wore.

"Could we get some help here?" McClung  unceremoniously dropped me on the cot closest to the door. At that  moment, Joe wasn't confident if she was a male or female. Her hair was  tightly pinned back and in my state her over-sized uniform just made her  look like another skinny private.

But when she came over McClung  took off his crumpled cap and said, "evening Miss, he's got a busted lip  here that I believe may need some stitching."

"If this is how  you're acting when I get a busted lip how are you gonna be once we  jump?" Joe asked McClung. He ignored his skinny friend.

Frances  gently took his jaw in her hands and tilted it towards the light to get a  better look. Then, she disappeared for a moment. She returned with a  bowl of water, alcohol, and some cotton.

"It just looks a little  swollen to me, only a minor cut," she said dabbing at my face, "mouth  wounds bleed a lot but are quick to heal up on their own."

Joe had  the opportunity to get a clear look at her as she worked. She was pretty enough once he realized she was a girl, but seemed a bit young. It was a mystery to him as to why she was here, and here alone. There   weren't any other women on the base.

"You'll be alright, Private." She said finally discarding the bloodied cotton into her bowl, "Next time try to stay calm."

"Hey, he decked me!"

She gave him a stern look. McClung said begrudgingly, "well, you did go for him first."

Joe spat on the ground, "he was askin' for it."

The next time Joe saw Mary Frances he was returning to the barracks with a few of the other fellas. She walked by with Eugene Roe and another medic he didn't recognize.   "Hey, isn't that the dame that nursed your wounds Joe?" George Luz said loudly.

"It is!" McClung confirmed.

"Why's she with the medics?" Luz asked, "hey, Roe!" Eugene Roe turned back at the sound of his name.

"Yeah, George?" he asked.

"Who's  your lady friend?" Luz asked. Eugene turned to look back at Frances.   She and the other medic had stopped a few paces ahead to wait for Roe.

"Who? Frances?" Eugene sounded confused.

"Is  that her name?" Luz jogged up to Roe. The rest of the guys loitered   behind him, curious enough to stick around to find out about the woman   amongst them.

"Yeah, this here's Mary Frances. She's part of the medical corp. here." Roe said.

"Well,  I'll be," Luz exhaled dramatically, "and she nursed up our Joe here   real good. Good one to have on our team. Joe! Joe, get over here. Did   you ever thank our medic here?" he gestured between them, urging Joe to come over.

Joe stayed put but called out, "thanks." She nodded in acknowledgment.

After that Joe Liebgott seemed to run into Mary Frances a lot; enough  times for him to learn to drop the Mary from Mary Frances. She became  Frances and eventually Frankie to all the men in Easy Company.

"So, Mary Frances, where'r you from?" Joe Toye asked through a bite of food at the mess one day.

"Boston."

"Mary Frances," Bill Guarnere interjected, "that's a Catlik name ain't it?"

Frances nodded, "but I prefer Frances, or Fran."

"You practicing?" Bill asked.

Frances shrugged. Luz nudged Bill, "eh, leave her alone gonorrhea."

"Italian?" Bill ignored Luz.

"Irish actually," Frances said.

"No shit, even with all that dark hair of yours?"

"Black Irish," Frances explained.

"No  shit, well you're not in short company, we got a lot of crazy mick's   around here. Startin' with this one!" Bill clapped a red hair guy on the  shoulder.

"This here's our ol' Malarkey," Bill said, "he's not from Boston. But he's got the red hair."

"Hi, Donald Malarkey," Malarkey smiled and offered his hand to Frances.

"Frances, nice to meet you!"

Once  the meal was over Joe and a bunch of the other easy guys headed towards  the barracks to change into PT gear. Frances trailed along with them,  on her way to the medical building which was on the way.

"So you're from Boston?" Joe overheard Malarkey ask her. He walked alongside her at the back of the group. "Born and raised! Where are you from?"

"Astoria," he said, "Oregon."

"I've heard it's beautiful out there!" she said.

"Oh it is, rainy in the winter but amazing in the summer. It's right by the water, a bit like Boston."

"Sounds  like I'm the god-damn mick matchmaker," Bill Guarnere announced. The   guys all chuckled. "Watch out," Bill lightly hit Joe on the stomach as   they walked, "those Irish-Catliks breed like rabbits."

They liked Frankie.  She was cute, real spunky. The guys of Easy company were quick to take  her in. She was tough enough to take their jokes — and didn't flinch at  their language — but her innocence made her easy to tease, which was  fun. She knew her shit too, for a medic. Frankie didn't train like the  rest of the soldiers but they shared most meals. Eventually, she joined  them more and more for games of cards and out at the bars on weekends.

They  all seemed to enjoy having something sweet around. Frances wasn't girly  but she still offered a female presence that seemed to soften  everything.

One night Frances was hanging around while a few of  the guys played cards. She had opted out of gambling that week in  recognition of some Catholic holiday - which Joe called BS on. He was  pretty sure she was still licking her wounds from getting her ass handed  to her in the poker game the week before.

"Gotta piss," Malarkey  announced. He clumsily got up from the little circle they had formed,  stumbling across Frankie as he left.

"Sorry, Fran! Excuse me," Malarkey quickly apologized.

"No, no worries! Sorry, I'll move-" Frances instantly became flustered. Joe couldn't have been the only one to notice her flush.

He raised her eyebrow at her. She smacked his shoulder, "what're you lookin' at?"

She knew exactly what. "He's too old for ya kid," Joe said taking a long drag off his cigarette.

Frances  stuck out her chin in that stubborn way Joe had quickly gotten to know,  "I'm fairly certain he's only a year or two older than me."

"How old even are ya?" Bill asked.

"That's rude to ask a lady," Floyd Talbert interjected.

"Well  she ain't a lady is she, she's Frank," Bill retorted, "one of the   fellas." Perconte looked up at the sound of his name, clearly not paying  attention. Talbert rolled his eyes. Joe snuck a look at Frances to see  how she was responding to being called one of the guys. She revealed   nothing.

"I'm twenty," she said leaning back on Joe's mattress. The men nodded, satisfied.

"Really?" Joe asked, "twenty? You look a helluva lot younger than that."

Frances screwed up her face, unsure whether to be offended or not. "Well, I'm twenty. Twenty-one in April."

She  looked so small to Joe in her oversized uniform. With her face smudged  up from the day and her hair pulled back, she looked like another   scrawny kid fresh out of high school. Clearly, from Bill's comment, Joe wasn't the only one who had forgotten that she was actually a grown   woman. Had Malarkey noticed? Joe wondered what he thought of Frances.

After that night Joe seemed to notice Frances checking out Malarkey constantly. She did her best to keep it under wraps, but she was young, eager, and naïve. Malark was a good lookin' guy, Joe supposed. But he barely seemed  to notice her. Which of course wasn't a surprise, she blended in with  the guys. Joe found unexpected comfort in that thought.

One  evening Joe was walking back to his barrack from the bathrooms when he  noticed Malarkey leaving the medical building. He instantly recognized  the red hair illuminated by the single light that hung from the   building's roof.

"Malarkey!" Joe called. The younger man jumped, startled at the noise.

"Where the hell'd you come from?" Malarkey asked.

Joe  gestured back to the bathrooms, "nature called." Joe narrowed his eyes  suspiciously, "what're you doing in medical? You alright?"

"Oh, I, uh, an old cut on my hand busted." Malarkey held up his freshly bandaged hand as means of explanation.

"How bad was it you had to come to medical?"

Malarkey  shrugged, "not so bad now. You headed back?" Malarkey noticeably   re-directed the conversation. A thousand suspicions filled Joe's head.

"I'm surprised anyone was even there." He said as they fell into step, walking towards the barracks.

"Lucky me," Malarkey said vaguely.

"Who fixed ya up? Roe?"

"Frances!"

"Oh yeah, she cleaned me up one night too, fixed my lip after that fight," Joe said.

"Right! It's handy she has a bunk in the back."

Joe  gave Malarkey a look. That wasn't common knowledge, Joe hadn't known   that. He had never thought about where Frances slept before.

"Ya know," Malarkey was quickly back-peddling, "because she can't sleep in a room full of guys! Wouldn't be proper."

"Right, sure," Joe said.

One weekend dinner Joe sat across from Frances and Luz. Luz was teasing her about her crush, who happened to be sitting down the line at the table.

"Your loverrrr…" Luz was saying. Frances shook her head but was giggling.

"Tell me all the dirty details!" Luz teased.

"I didn't realize you'd run out of inspiration, George," Frances giggled.

"I'm more concerned about your alone time," George said.

"Give it a rest, won't ya?" Joe snapped.

Luz held his hands up in mock defense, "no need to be jealous, Joe."

Joe  shook his head and picked at his food. Frances's head was down, hiding  her blush, but she glanced up at Joe through thick eyelashes. "You know fraternizing is against the rules," he snapped at Frances this   time. She stared at him; shock then hurt quickly crossed her face before  she composed herself again.

"Good thing there hasn't been any   fraternizing then," she responded measuredly, keeping cool eye contact   with Joe. He felt his face grow hot; from anger, jealousy, or   embarrassment he wasn't sure.

George raised his eyebrows dramatically, "oooh, mystery solved."

"I'm so pissed," Perco said slamming his tray down on the table.

"What's happened, Frank?" Frances asked.

Once  the meal ended Joe made a point of finding Frances before she broke off  from the group. He felt guilty for snapping at her earlier. He wasn't  sure where that had come from. But something had felt off ever since Joe  had seen Malarkey leaving the medical building that late night. Was  there more to their relationship that he wasn't seeing?

"I'm sorry for jumpin' down your throat earlier," Joe said.

"No sweat, Joe," Frances shrugged.

"I just don't want ya gettin' in trouble ya know? Gotta keep an eye out for each other."

"Yeah,"  she smiled, "thanks, Joe." She walked off and Joe exhaled, running a   hand through his hair. Maybe he was reading into it.

"She sounds really lovely, Bull." Frances and Bull were sitting in the barracks, cleaning their rifles when Joe and a few of the other guys came back.

"What about you? Anyone special at home?" A half-smoked cigar hung from Bull's mouth.

"No, no one sending me special letters," Frances skimmed her cloth expertly across the stock of her rifle.

"I don't believe that, a pretty girl like you." Bull said congenially.

"Well, I haven't felt like a pretty girl in years." Joe heard Frances say.

"Did you ever go to dances?" Bull asked.

"Oh yeah, I love dancing. Although, I never got the hang of doing it in heels."

"I don't understand how you ladies ever walk around in those."

"Beats me! I prefer these," Frances clicked her boots together.

An image of Frances in her O.D's stumbling around in heels immediately came to Joe's mind. He stifled a laugh.

"You leavin' anytime soon?" he asked, "some of us gotta change."

"Nothin' she hasn't seen already, Joe." Bull said.

"Yeah, you're not packing anything special!" Talbert added.

"Don't  worry," Frances said, gathering her things, "I'm finished anyway! See you guys later!" She moved quickly, quicker than she needed to.

"No rush, really, Frank, I was just bustin' your balls," Joe said.

"No,  no worries. I gotta head out anyways!" she said. She bolted to the door  where Malarkey just happened to be exiting. Ah, Joe thought, there's  the explanation.

Malarkey greeted her with a smile. Their dialogue  was incoherent but Joe didn't miss how Malarkey's hand quickly went to  her lower back as he ushered her out the door ahead of him.

"Now the lipstick," George Luz said like a stern mother. He led Frances over to a little mirror that was posted to the beam of one of the bunks.

Carefully,  Frances applied the deep red shade. Her lips were full, and absolutely  kissable when she turned back to face them. Joe felt a sinking feeling  in his stomach.

"Perfect, our work here is done," George said.

"Great, let's go," Perconte said, a foot already out the door.

Things  were already in full swing once their little group arrived at the dance  hall. As soon as they walked into the room, guys began flocking to  Frances.

"Hello, miss, Edward Tipper, pleased to meet you."

"Tip, it's Frances," Joe shook his head.

"Oh, Frankie," shock crossed Tipper's face, "you look amazing! Want to dance?"

Frankie smiled graciously, "I think I'll grab a drink first, Tip."

"Then you want to dance with me?" Talbert appeared out of nowhere.

"I  can grab you a drink, Frank," Luz offered. Frank Perconte jerked to   attention in response to his name. "Perco and I will grab a drink for   Frankie," Luz amended.

"Thank you George!" she planted a kiss on Luz's cheek. A perfect red imprint was left on his skin when she pulled away.

"Hey, are you just giving those out now?" Talbert asked flirtatiously.

Frances rolled her eyes but laughed "Tip? Let's go?"

Tipper  was all too eager to lead Frances to the dance floor. Joe joined George  and Perconte at the bar before the three of them made their way to an  epmty table. They mingled with various men of all nine companies and the  dames they had picked up that night. Joe watched as many of his  friends, and others he didn't know, spun Frankie around on the dance   floor. Her shiny dark hair, which she had quickly pinned half-up, swayed  in time to the music. She radiated a confidence Joe had only ever seen  glimmers of before.

Now, Joe thought, dressing her up had been a  big mistake. Every guy in the room now had their eyes on her, including  him. But despite her many dance partners, she wasn't seeing any of them.  Joe noticed her eyes scanning the room over each of her partner's  shoulders. Eventually, she made her way over to their table to claim  the beer Luz had gotten for her. At least a third of it was missing  already.

"Sorry," Luz wiped his mouth, "had to make sure it tasted okay. Ya know, only the best for the new and improved, Frankie."

"I  haven't changed George, and I'm pretty sure the beer is still as shitty  as it's always has been," Frances said, but she gratefully accepted the  drink anyways.

"Okay, I'm gonna do it," she was hyping herself  up. Joe sipped lazily at his beer, only half-listening. "Do you think I  should do it?" she asked.

"Yeah! Go for it!" Luz returned to the table with freshly poured drinks. "Do what?"

"I'm going to ask Don to dance."

"Oh," all of a sudden Luz was less enthusiastic, "maybe you should let him come to you."

"George,  I didn't get all dressed up for nothing!" Frankie was glowing, her   confidence had skyrocketed in a matter of hours. Maybe it was the beer.

"Well," Luz's eyes shifted suspiciously around the room, "I think you should just enjoy being pretty. Ya know, for yourself."

Frankie let out a very unladylike snort, "okay, George. I'm gonna ask him, next good song."

"I bet Joe will dance with ya." Luz said.

"Nah, I'm not a dancer," Joe said.

"You dance!" Luz said.

"Not tonight buddy," Joe took a drink.

"Why don't we play darts!" Luz suggested.

She  waved him away playfully, "Fine, George we'll play darts but I'm gonna  dance first! I'll meet you over there!" Luz met Joe's eyes meaningfully.  Who knows why he was all of a sudden so opposed to Frank dancing with  Malarkey. What had changed? Joe stamped down a protective urge that was  rising in his chest.

Joe tried to enjoy watching Luz's darts game.  Usually, it was easy to get caught up in the humor of a team losing.  But his mind kept wandering, wondering where Frankie was. He did his  best to appear casual as he scanned the room. She was dancing with him,  he could see his dark red hair bobbing in time with her sleek brown one.  But wait, it wasn't her. She hadn't styled her hair like that. Joe  Liebgott knew a head of hair, even a lady's do.

Joe made out the  unfamiliar woman's face as Malarkey twirled her around. A pretty girl  from the town he had seen around before. That's when he spotted Frankie.  She was tucked away at the other end of the bar, gripping a nearly full  beer. She had already looked over her shoulder twice in the time Joe  had spotted her. Despite her efforts to be covert, she was woefully  watching Malark dance with that skirt.

Joe went back and forth in  his head. He should just leave her to it. It wasn't his place, they  weren't close enough for that. He thought that he should send Luz over,  or find Roe. But she looked so sad and no one else had seemed to notice.  Frances had successfully tucked herself away in a corner of the crowd.  Joe sighed, he couldn't just sit and watch her like that. He downed the  rest of his beer before making his way over to her side of the bar.

He  folded his hands together and rested his forearms on the bar. "So, did  you get your dance in?" she was startled at his appearance.

She nodded, "yeah."

"So?" He gestured at the bartender. "Was it everything you hoped for?"

She was quiet. "What, did he step on your pretty new shoes or what?" Joe pressed.

"It was fine, fun! But he had to cut it short, ya know when she got here," Frankie forced a brave smile.

Joe  turned to the dance floor where Malarkey was still dancing with the   dark-haired woman. He was unsure how to respond. It wasn't  right of Malarkey to blow Frankie off like that, especially after  leading her on the way he had seemed to the last couple of weeks.  Frankie might be young in his eyes, but Joe knew she wasn't stupid. She  wouldn't pursue anyone without a little encouragement.

Joe licked his lips, thinking. Then he straightened and put out his hand.

"Let's dance?"

She  looked up at him in surprise. "I thought you don't dance? At least not  tonight." Her teasing tone was forced, but he admired her for acting   like she wasn't hurt.

"Well, I couldn't upstage Malarkey and have you all disappointed once you had to dance with him."

She  smiled sadly. Joe took her in his arms, spinning her away from the view  of Malarkey and his girl getting close as the music slowed. He held  her, swaying in time to the slow brass of Moonlight Serenade. At first,  she was a little awkward in his arms. But she began to relax as they  moved in slow circles together. As if reflexively, she started to look  over her shoulder. Joe caught her chin in his hand, "Hey, you look good  tonight, Frances."

Momentarily distracted she teased half-heartedly, "Frances? You hitting on me, Lieb?"

"Maybe a little bit." Joe let his hand relax lower down her back, pulling her in closer.

"Never thought I'd be your type," she said.

He shrugged, "I'm a sucker for any beautiful girl in a dress."

"What about O.D's?"

"I'm only a sucker for you in O.D's." His voice dropped to a husky whisper, "but we shoulda got you a red dress."

"What's  wrong with this one?" She looked up at him with those wide, steel gray  eyes that had made his stomach flop since he first met her.

"Nothin, except blue ain't your color."

[onelungmcclung]

Lie to yourself about this and you will forever lie about everything.

Everybody already knows everything

so you can lie to them. That's what they want.

But lie to yourself, what you will lose is yourself.

Frank Bidart, from “Queer”

[onelungmcclung]

and even now in the gathering dark

[onelungmcclung]

whaup movie: set during ww2 in the shetland islands, transporting allied agents between scotland and german-occupied norway under cover of darkness, against the twin dangers of the harsh sea conditions and discovery by enemy forces. / x. x.

mctoye au for @papersergeant-pencilsoldier with ever-increasing gratitude for all manner of galaxy-braining 💜

[onelungmcclung]

He’s not sure how far he’s walked, or for how long, or exactly where he is now. Time alone is a luxury he’s never had much of, if at all, and even less in the army. Sometimes close quarters feel too close. It feels like he’s still walking out the confinement of the ship, the planes, now the village. Maybe England feels smaller. All he knows is he’s travelled farther over the past couple of years than he had in his entire life before the war, same as most of them.

When he turns and looks back down the grass track, he finds he’s lost all sight of Aldbourne. (The relief of being alone like the relief of a ceasefire. And the stillness like the waiting of a ceasefire.) No lights in the darkness, nothing silhouetted against the sky.

[onelungmcclung]

Ooh, could i request #39 for Toye/McClung, please and thank

39. dreams

He thinks they’re in their foxhole, and it’s sometime around dawn, a grey light spreading across the sky, and McClung’s crouched over the small fire they’ve managed to build, heating a little of their coffee ration to share, and when he passes the tin cup to Joe he feels the residual warmth in Mac’s fingers.

He thinks they’re in Fort Bragg, and it’s the first time he watched McClung shoot, and he feels that twisting thread of respect and envy and relief they have another good sniper, and something else, like warmth, like fascination.

He thinks they’re on leave in Rheims, when he went out drinking one night with Mac and a couple of other guys from their platoon, and someone said Hey who’s the better shot, you or Shifty? and Mac said Oh Shifty can’t shoot for shit, I’ve been covering for him the whole time and caught Toye’s eye, laughingly, for just for a moment that nobody else saw.

He thinks they’re in England, in the village stable they were billeted in, that night when it was just the two of them, playing cards in the straw for a little money, a few cigarettes, and then for things they don’t have, inventing more farfetched wagers each time.

He thinks he’s lying wounded in the snow, and on the plane, and it’s taking him away from his body. Something – morphine, blood loss, darkness – fogs his vision and he can feel the engine. He thinks McClung is lying beside him, the same steady reassuring weight of him that Joe knows like his own breathing, and McClung murmurs something to him he can’t quite hear over the noise of the plane. And then he knows this can’t be true, and he knows maybe they won’t see each other again, but he tries to hold onto it, he tries to believe it: the feel of Mac against him, the sound of his voice.

[onelungmcclung]

Ahh! 5 Sentence Drabbles!! So exciting. I would love a #5 (Seeking Solace?) for McClung and Toye 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️

thank youuuu 💜 summary: postwar, lowkey h/c, g rating (later I’ll decide whether to post it to ao3 as part of ask him to dance or as a standalone; probably the former)

It doesn’t happen often but it happens: the worst things he’s seen, felt, coming back to him at night, in too much detail for something almost a year gone. Sometimes, like tonight, it seems he can’t move or defend himself, trapped or too badly wounded, and he wakes, trying to talk himself down from a fear worse than he remembers, trying to let his muscles ease again, and wondering if what he dreamt is what Joe felt, that day they rarely speak of.

Minutes pass – or so it feels – until he can make himself sit up. What is the use, he thinks, the tiredness turning almost to anger, what is the point of reliving it. He’s torn between getting some air and staying beside Joe, because Joe is always the quiet place for his mind to go, during day or night. But the room seems smaller, closer, than other nights, and so at last he rises, dresses, all in long practised silence, and slips out of the room.

***

Joe wakes alone, a little later that night. He almost thinks nothing of it, until he notices Earl’s clothes are gone. That worries him, not because he thinks Earl will be hard to find but because he knows what it means when Earl goes out alone at night.

He pulls on his clothes, and doesn’t bother with his prosthesis or a crutch until he’s downstairs, where one of his crutches stands in the stairwell. The quiet sound of the wood on the floorboards irritates him a little, but it’s probably better he can’t startle Earl just now.

He finds Earl in the narrow alley at the back of the row of houses, sitting on their step and smoking. He doesn’t look around or get up, just shifts aside to let Joe by. Joe stays in the open doorway, leaning against the doorpost behind him.

“That kind of night?”

Earl nods. He passes Joe the cigarette. Joe reaches down with his free hand to slide his fingers into Earl’s hair. He can feel the lingering tension ebb out of Earl, slowly.

He knows they can’t be seen from here. He keeps his fingers in Earl’s hair as he returns the cigarette to him.

Earl’s always been there for him on bad nights. Sits with him downstairs or drives him somewhere quiet they can be alone, all without asking or being asked. This has happened before, too, but a little less often; he knows the things that bring Earl out here at two in the morning, and wishes he could protect Earl from them. There’s nothing either of them can do, but he’s not going anywhere.

“You need anything?” he says, quietly.

Earl shakes his head. He leans his head against Joe’s thigh, gently. His eyes close.

Joe’ll stand here all night if it helps any. Maybe talk Earl into taking the day off work, if this is all the sleep they get. Earl doesn’t move, still leaning into him, and neither does Joe. He’ll just do whatever Earl needs, he thinks. For as long as he needs it.

[onelungmcclung]

for the Band of Brothers Love Fest 2021: part two of my contribution towards the “Joe Toye Postwar Happiness Project” (part one: sketch)

Joe finds love and happiness after the war, and comes to accept himself better.

Toye/McClung, after the war

(ao3)

[onelungmcclung]

Hey! I heard you were taking requests and it's been a....topsy turvy week so if you feel like it, I'd love a fluffy, slice-of-life continuation of your McToye fics?? Bonus if it includes them gently roasting each other like they did in Bastogne. <3

thanks for the prompt! 💜 (how could I refuse/resist?) summary: the first time they dance together. (ao3)

/

The breeze comes through the open window. The kitchen is full of light in the mornings. Later, Earl thinks the day will turn hot but for now it’s cool and quiet, quiet but for the music in the next room and voices somewhere down the street outside. He sidesteps around the edge of the kitchen table, pushed into the corner beside the stove, before either he or Joe can trip against it.

“Should’ve told me you can’t dance,” Joe says, close to his ear.

Earl glances down behind him to check where they’re headed. “Well, maybe you should take me out someplace nice.”

It’s surfaced between them as a half joke on a few occasions now. In their foxhole, on their first night together here, on the days of Joe relearning how to walk without crutches. Joe calls it their dance when he stumbles against Earl and Earl steadies him, irony masking the pain and frustration Earl can feel in him.

“I think you need more practice first.”

“Or a better partner.”

Joe’s had the prosthesis about ten days. Better than the ones they used to issue, he says. He’s adapting quick, doesn’t complain about it feels. So far, Earl hasn’t offered to help, but for the most part he remains near enough to help, if it’s ever needed.

It’s one of the only luxuries Joe buys: their slowly growing collection of music. Earl’s never really thought of himself as having a strong love of music; now, he’s come to associate it more with Joe, their shared living space, their hard-won peace. He doesn’t even know which record is playing, most days; most days, he leaves it up to Joe. The music curls around them like smoke.

“Are you leading?” Joe murmurs. “Am I leading?”

“I don’t know,” Earl confesses.

He shifts slightly to let Joe lead. He likes how it feels: not the being led, exactly, but the press of Joe’s hand against the small of his back. He glances down, trying to follow Joe’s movements. Joe laughs and says, “No, step back.”

“You step back,” Earl says, purely to see Joe’s look of disgust.

“I’m leading.”

“You don’t know that.”

“My guess is as good as yours,” Joe says, just missing the chair.

“First time for everything,” Earl says, but it’s a halfhearted retort. His attention keep drifting back to the feeling of Joe’s hands on him.

The song on the record changes, and he drops his hand to Joe’s waist so that he’s now leading. And Joe lets him, lets Earl guide them both. And it shouldn’t take him offguard the way it does but this, Joe pliant in his arms, makes him feel hot under his shirt. He’s pretty sure if he looks directly at Joe he’ll forget what he’s supposed to be doing, so he keeps his eyes down, watching the way they both move, careful neither of them stumble.

It feels good: gentle, steady. He lets himself lean into Joe’s shoulder a little, the familiar smell of his skin, of their shared soap, cigarettes, bed. They should do this again sometime, he thinks. And next time – he avoids the table again – he’s moving that table into the living room.

Joe hadn’t been convinced this would work. What he’d said was, Your fault if it doesn’t. Except Earl knows him well enough to know Joe would think it his own fault, and be discouraged by it. Earl was pretty sure it would work, otherwise he wouldn’t have begun it: after the morning chores, after Joe had put on another record, pulling Joe to him – gentle, a little ironical to disguise his sudden feeling of vulnerability – letting the request speak itself in the touch.

And sure maybe some of the missteps have been his fault, but all of them minor and he has some excuse. For the most part, his excuse is that he’s thinking more about kissing Joe than leading – or following, whichever one he’s supposed to be doing. He doesn’t feel like admitting that just now. It feels like they’ve been through a lot just to reach this moment, and he wants it to last a little longer. Even if neither of them know quite what they’re doing.

They make it through the next song more easily. Joe’s better at following than Earl was – maybe just to make a point, of course.

The song slows, ends. The record crackles in the quiet space between it and the next. “You want to give up?”

“Nah,” Joe says, pulling him a little closer by the waist. “I think we’re getting the hang of it.”

[onelungmcclung]

He thinks they’re in their foxhole, and it’s sometime around dawn, a grey light spreading across the sky, and McClung’s crouched over the small fire they’ve managed to build, heating a little of their coffee ration to share, and when he passes the tin cup to Joe he feels the residual warmth in Mac’s fingers.

He thinks they’re in Fort Bragg, and it’s the first time he watched McClung shoot, and he feels that twisting thread of respect and envy and relief they have another good sniper, and something else, like warmth, like fascination.

[onelungmcclung]

for the Band of Brothers Love Fest 2021, “Joe Toye Post-War Happiness Project”:

Joe finds love and happiness after the war, and comes to accept himself better.

part one of my offering — I would very much like to finish writing a fic for you, anon, but because I think that’s unlikely to happen by the end of the month please accept this + an edit 💛💛💛

(ao3)

[onelungmcclung]

postwar mctoye is peak romance actually if I do say so myself

[onelungmcclung]

It doesn’t happen often but it happens: the worst things he’s seen, felt, coming back to him at night, in too much detail for something almost a year gone. Sometimes, like tonight, it seems he can’t move or defend himself, trapped or too badly wounded, and he wakes, trying to talk himself down from a fear worse than he remembers, trying to let his muscles ease again, and wondering if what he dreamt is what Joe felt, that day they rarely speak of.