Chapter Text
Gene wakes up to sunlight streaming in his eyes. Theres a heavy warmth on top of him, and he feels sweaty and kind of out of breath. As he slowly gets his bearings he realizes Babe is still sprawled on top of him, snoring peacefully. They are entangled from head to toe, and Gene notices with a rush of heat how close they are pressed together when Babe shifts a little and his dick presses into Gene's hip, half-hard.
Looking outside through the curtains they forgot to close last night, Gene watches the sun rise slowly over the horizon. Fog is still covering most of the landscape, making it look idyllic and peaceful, all traces of the unspeakable horrors of war hidden beneath a soft grey blanket of mist.
There's no reason to move, and Gene doesn't want to. For a moment, he thinks about just staying here, missing their next move on purpose and just barricading himself in this room together with Babe, so they could spend the rest of time in this room, far away from the reality of what they're doing in Europe. He wants it so much he can barely breathe, and for the first time since landing in Europe, he dares to think about what'll come after.
Gene is no fool. He had known, right from when he first enlisted, that going to war would change him. Still, he never considered anything but returning back home to the Bayou, to his parents in their dingy wood house to continue the life he had already been living.
Only the war was changing him in ways he had not anticipated. He wonders if the emptiness will come back, unexpectedly, once he's back home, wonders what he'd do then, without Babe or anyone else who knows what he'd gone through to get him through it. He tries to imagine himself sitting in their little church back home, listening to their priest talk about damnation, about hell, after what Gene has seen.
And even moreso, could Gene even dare to return, having done what he did with Babe? Would he be able to give that side of himself up again, once he's back stateside? Could he hide it? Gene holds no illusions about the reality of their situation, how dangerous it is even in peace times. He has used that knowledge his whole life to keep himself in check, to tamp down on his urges and desires, trying to be the perfect son his father would never have.
It had taken immense amounts of willpower and strength of conviction, had taken him nights and nights of prayer, of begging God for absolution. Gene's heart clenches at the thought. He feels weak, and tired, and sore in more ways than physical, and he doesn't think he could go back to that way of living, of denying himself in that way. He simply doesn't have the strength to bear it anymore.
Gene swallows. His pulse is beating, far too heavily, chest constricting in fear of the uncertainty that lay before him. He considers the sleeping man in his arms. They haven't talked about the future, and Gene doesn't think he could bring it up just yet. The war's still ongoing and the two of them have to survive it first to even consider speaking about life back in the USA.
Still, a deep sense of clarity settles over Gene. Even if he doesn't know yet what the future would hold, he knows what he wants from it, what he hopes it will be, if he lets himself have it. It was this, right here, quiet mornings and warmth and comfort, and someone to care for, and being cared for in turn. He wants that with Babe, more than anything.
Gene is torn from his musings by Babe stirring on top of him. Babe shifts, turning his head and smacking his lips as he slowly wakes up. There's some movement, Babe twisting his hips, hands wandering along Gene's sides, light and ticklish. It pulls a sharp exhale from Gene, unbidden, and he moves without any conscious decision, rearranging himself until Babe is settled between his thighs.
Babe raises his head to look at Gene. His hair is mussed and there's a red wrinkle on his face where it was pressed into the fabric of Gene's shirt the whole night. He's the most beautiful thing Gene has ever seen. He wants Babe more than he's ever wanted anything in his life, wants it more than he can bear. Some of it must show on his face, because Babe flushes brilliantly red, up to the tips of his ears.
Gene slides a hand up to cup the side of Babe's face, smoothing his thumb across the red line on his cheek, down to his mouth, pressing against Babe's lower lip until he parts his lips to exhale shakily. They should probably get up, at least brush their teeth, but Gene has no interest in doing the sensible thing right now.
"Thank you.", he says quietly. At Babe's puzzled gaze, he clarifies.
"For last night, for taking care of me. I was…" he falters, unsure what he was.
"I'm sorry", he finishes, awkwardly. "For worrying you."
Babe looks at him with an impossibly tender expression in his eyes, then leans up to press a kiss to Gene's mouth, soft and close-mouthed, like they've been waking up together hundreds of times. Gene makes a soft sound at the force of how much he wants.
Babe smiles at him, almost ruefully.
"I'm not gonna lie, Gene, you really gave me a fright for a moment there. But", his smile turns even softer, "I'm glad I was here. We're in this together, right?"
Gene smiles right back, a little watery. "We are." he hushes, before pulling Babe into another kiss. Gene has never kissed anyone with morning breath before, but he strangely relishes in it, charmed by the intimacy of it all, like they've known each other forever instead of a few months.
They trade lazy kisses for a long time, while the sun rises slowly, patches of sunlight slowly moving through the room and across the bed. It's still early, hours before they have to report in, and Gene has no intention of leaving the bed before that time comes.
He lets his hands wander over Babe's body, down his back and up his shirt, lets his fingers play along the edge of his shorts, dip inside. The warmth between them increases steadily, sweat forming between their bellies. Babe's shifting and moving on top of Gene, running his hands along his sides. Their breaths get heavier and heavier, until Babe shifts again and their hips align in a way that presses their erections together.
Gene's lips part on a gasp, and Babe does it again, and again until they are rutting together, gasping into each others mouths. Their kisses get messier and messier, spit smeared over their lips and chins, and it feels like flying, like jumping out of a plane, like falling through the air moments before the parachute uncoils.
"Babe", Gene groans, getting impatient. He can feel wetness forming on the tip of his dick, and he wants something, anything more than this, doesn't want to finish inside his boxers like a schoolboy again. He doesn't have the words to articulate this, so he tugs at Babe's shirt instead, pulls it over his head and laughs at the way it messes his hair up even further than it already was.
Babe laughs right along with him and pulls Gene's shirt off him in turn. Feeling daring, Gene fingers the waistband of his own shorts, biting his lips and starting to push it down as well. Suddenly, he wants nothing more than be naked with Babe, who catches on with a groan, slapping Gene's hand away so he's the one undressing Gene.
Gene returns the favor as best he can from his position under Babe, their legs and shorts and hands tangling between the covers. It makes them laugh again, breathlessly between kisses.
Their laughter fades as Babe lies down again, and there's suddenly so much naked skin between them. Gene feels sensitive all over, each point of contact burning bright and hot, and his fingers leave red imprints where they suddenly cling to Babe's shoulders.
He gasps into Babe's mouth, can only hold on for dear life as they move against each other. There are wet spots forming on their lower bellies, smeared across by the movement of their hips, and Gene almost drowns in the sensation.
"Babe", he gasps again, pleading, without really knowing what he's asking for. Babe seems to understand anyway, reaches between them to grip their cocks in his hand. Catching on, Gene follows suit, curls his hand over Babe's.
This time, he can tell he's approaching his climax rapidly, and he bites his lips, trying to hold on a little longer, bask in the sensations, take in the sight of Babe above him, copper hair dark with sweat and mussed, pale skin flushed red all over, drops of sweat beading on his forehead and running down his neck.
He pulls Babe back in for a kiss to muffle his own moans, hips twitching as he spills between them. It covers their hands, makes their movement more slippery, almost filthy. Gene whines high in his throat as Babe speeds up, shoving himself against Gene's spent dick with thrusts of his hips. Gene's sensitive all over, sliding into overstimulation quickly, but he doesn't think he could stop now if he wanted to.
The sight of Babe chasing his climax on top of him takes his breath away, and he runs his free hand appreciatively along Babe's back. He can feel the vibration of each of his muffled groans, tilts his head back as Babe buries his face in the side of his neck, breath fast and hot, lips open against the sensitive skin.
Finally, Babe tenses up above him, pulling back to look at Gene with wide eyes as he spills all over their bellies, mingling with the mess Gene already made. He slumps back down onto Gene tiredly, uncaring of the stickiness, and presses a wet, smiling kiss against his lips.
They're sweaty and everything smells like sex, and they'll have to get up soon, take another shower, but it can all wait for now, for them to trade smiles and kisses between the rumpled bedsheets and pretend the world outside doesn't exist for a moment longer.
Before, Gene had imagined sex to be an almost sacred act, serious and primarily a duty to fulfill among married people. It was what his father had drilled into him from a young age, aided by their priest. Now that he knows the reality of what it can be, full of laughter and intimacy and tenderness, Gene suddenly pities them.
He runs his hand through Babe's mussed hair, a smile splitting his face as he takes in how flushed and content he looks. He's not sure what'll happen with them once the war is done, if they'll both even make it out alive. But even if this is it, if this is all Gene will get, he'll always be grateful to have seen, just once, what happiness could be if he lets himself have it.
They go to Berchtesgaden next, where the last vestiges of Hitler's Nazi buddies are rumored to have barricades themselves, somewhere up in the Bavarian Alps.
The town itself is picturesque, but almost deserted, and as they wander through cobblestone streets with striking mountain vistas at every turn, Gene feels like he's in a dream he can't wake up from, minutes away from turning into a nightmare.
Gene's tense the whole time, waiting for the other shoe to drop, but by the time they've taken the eagle's nest, he slowly starts to come to terms with the fact that the war is actually drawing to a close. Hitler's dead, his army surrendered, and there's suddenly no more fighting, just rooting out the last remaining Nazis from their luxurious hiding holes.
Gene's work changes drastically from one day to another. No more screaming, grievously wounded soldiers begging for mercy, no more blood pouring over his hands, too fast to stop it, no more torn limbs or burnt skin or festering infections.
Instead, he cleans up scrapes and nicks and twisted ankles from guys getting overconfident, climbing up steep rock cliffs or racing each other up the mountain roads, trying to blow up stonefalls with hand grenades or shooting them with rocket launchers.
Everyone's going a little wild, he thinks, with the exhilarating realisation they've made it through the thick of it, and sometimes Gene feels like he's the only one who hasn't fully grasped it yet, is waiting unnecessarily for something bad to happen.
Babe catches on to him pretty quickly, but he's the only one.
Winters and Nixon "liberate" Goebbels' liquor stash from his summer home in celebration of VE day, and they get the whole day off, save for a minimum amount of necessary duties.
Spina actually smacks Gene over the back of his head when he tries to volunteer for manning the aid station, sending him away with a laughing Babe.
"You gotta stop worrying, Gene." Babe says to him as they wander down towards the lakefront, the sound of laughter and raucous shouting around them at every corner they pass.
It's a sunny day, one of many since they first arrived, and Babe's hair is practically on fire with the way it glows orange against the clear blue sky. It's getting a bit long on top, Gene notices, and he thinks Babe's looking mighty handsome like this. Before Gene can say anything to embarass himself, they're interrupted by Skinny Sisk dashing between them with a cackling laugh, bottles clutched in his arms, Liebgott hot on his heels, shouting madly after him.
A moment later, Webster follows at a more sedate pace, toasting Gene and Babe with a bottle of Champagne.
"Beautiful day, isn't it?" He calls, slowing down but keeping an eye on his friends' retreating backs. "Can't believe the Germans lived like this and still thought to start all this nonsense in the first place!"
Further down the street, they run into the rest of first and second platoon on a little square with a view on the lake. George Luz is right at the center, standing on the edge of a little fountain, doing an impression of Commander Sink. He's already swaying on his feet, clinging to his bottle of schnaps like it'll help him stay upright, and Gene keeps half an eye on him, hoping he won't fall and hit his head.
The men are all in various states of inebriation, relaxed and goofing off, and Gene's relieved to see that even Malarkey's wearing an expression that could be considered a smile for once. Babe gets called over by McClung and Ramirez to settle a bet, and Gene settles down next to Lipton, who hands him a bottle of beer.
"Can't believe it's over." He says to Gene as he sits down. "Still feel like they'll start the shelling back up at any moment."
Gene nods at that, clinks his bottle to Lip's in a silent toast. The beer is still cool, likely fresh from a cellar, and foam clings to Gene's upper lip when he takes a sip. It's bitter, and a lot richer than what he's used to from England or back home, but he thinks he likes it.
When he looks over at Babe, he notices him staring at his mouth, and Gene grins, suddenly, licking the foam off it while looking Babe straight in the eyes. It's stupid, but nobody's sober enough to care, and it makes Babe flush bright scarlet, so Gene feels like it's worth it.
"Glad to see you're doing well, Doc." Lipton suddenly says beside him and Gene starts, realizing he's forgotten all about the man sitting right next to him.
Gene feels a little caught out, unsure of what to make of the comment, but Lipton's still wearing a placid smile on his face, so he tries not to read anything into it, doesn't think Lip noticed Babe's and his interaction at all.
"Had us all worried there for a sec, in Landsberg," Lipton continues, and Gene's hands clench around the neck of his beer bottle. Nobody had said a thing so far, and he'd hoped not too many people had noticed.
Gene can't find the words to answer, but Lipton keeps going unperturbed, like he's been waiting to say his piece to Gene, so Gene stays silent and listens.
"And not just you, Liebgott and a few of the others too. After we got out of Belgium, I was sure that had been the worst of it. Didn't expect…" he trails off, but Gene gets it, anyway, nods at Lipton and takes another sip of his beer.
"What I'm trying to say, Doc, I'm glad you're still with us. Don't think half of us would've made it here without you. Don't think we don't know, you know? We got a lot to thank you for."
Gene swallows.
"Thanks, Lip." He finally offers around a weak smile. Except for Babe, he hadn't really considered that anyone else might have payed so much attention to him, but there's a curious warmth in his chest at Lipton's words.
The day passes in a sunny haze, lounging on the sun-warmed stones of the little square they claimed, laughter and a constant hum of chatter echoing through the otherwise empty streets. More and more men from Easy find them during the day, and by the time the light turns the mountain tops golden-red, Gene thinks that most of the company must be here with them.
The whole day, Gene’s never once lacking for a drink, and there's always some guy or other sitting down next to him, asking questions or telling Gene stories, pulling him into conversation easily.
Gene looks around him and realizes that each and every one of the men around him has become his friend, has grown to be a part of him, despite all his efforts to keep his distance.
Gene might be drunk, but he feels filled to bursting with emotions, with relief, with love, at the fact that they made it here. He looks over at Malarkey, Bull's heavy arm around his shoulders and something like a laugh on his face as Johnny Martin loudly complains about something or other.
Next to him, Perconte, squabbling with O'Keefe while trying not to fall over. Chuck Grant and Liebgott, singing loudly and badly, Webster next to them with his head in his hands but shoulders shaking with laughter, Sisk asleep at their feet, mouth open and snoring a little, half a bottle of Champagne still clutched in his hand.
And through it all, Babe, always at the edge of his peripheral vision. They keep apart, not by choice but by circumstance, but they keep an eye on each other the whole time, and most of the time Gene looks at him, Babe's already looking back.
Once the sun has set, Babe comes to find him, and as the group slowly disperses, some in search of more booze, some in search of food and some of the nearest latrine, the two of them steal away to find someplace quiet for themselves. It's not hard to find one among the many abandoned buildings.
Babe locks the door behind them when they find a decent place, far enough from everyone else that they won't be overheard easily. Then Gene's being pressed against the wall, Babe's tongue hot and insistent in his mouth. They kiss until they're out of breath, sweaty and hard in their pants, and then Babe lets up, pulls back.
"God, I want…" he starts saying, but a growl from his stomach interrupts him. Gene laughs at him, but he's hungry himself, so they find their way to the kitchen, laughing as they search through the cupboards, scrounge up a meal of crisp bread, pickles and smoked sausages.
They leave the lights off so no one will find them, light just a small candle to search around the kitchen, but the moon shines brightly enough through the windows that they don't need it. When they've finished their meal, Babe pushes at Gene until he sits on the table, sliding between his thighs to kiss him again.
Gene gets lost in it, clinging to Babe and sucking on his tongue until Babe groans and pulls back to bury his face in Gene's neck.
He stays there for a moment, catching his breath, before looking up at Gene. Even in the dark, Gene can tell he's blushing.
"Gene", he whispers, and the hoarseness in his voice makes something hungry uncoil inside Gene. "Can I blow you?"
Gene is suddenly, breathtakingly hard, and can do nothing but stare at Babe. It seems to be answer enough for Babe, who makes him slide over until his feet are resting on the kitchen bench, then pushes them apart to sit between them.
Gene leans back, hands clenched tightly on the edge of the table, and watches with bated breath as Babe unbuckles his belt and opens his flies. He's so captivated he doesn't even think to be embarrassed, breath caught in his chest as Babe slowly lays him bare.
All the breath rushes from his chest when Babe presses the first kiss to the tip, and he has to lift one of his hands and press it over his mouth to stifle the noises threatening to spill from his lips as Babe drags his lips along the sensitive skin of his dick, from the tip down the underside of it and back up again.
Babe's teasing him, he can tell from the way he's looking up at Gene through his lashes, but Gene already knows it'll all be over in a heartbeat once Babe actually gets his mouth on him, so he takes it without complaint, biting his lips and burying his free hand in Babe's hair.
When Babe finally wraps his lips around him, Gene's almost out of his mind with want, each breath ending in a whine. His hand clenches in Babe's hair when he hollows his cheeks, shuddering when Babe moans around him in turn.
He watches in stunned silence as Babe reaches into his own pants, and then his eyes roll back into his head when Babe starts moving, bobbing his head up and down. The noises alone would be enough to get Gene going, the wet sounds of suction and Babe's heavy breathing, the quickening rustle of Babe touching himself, and it seems to Gene like no time at all has passed before he feels his balls draw up, the heat threatening to unspool in his lower belly. He utters a warning "Babe!", trying to pull Babe off his dick by his hair.
But Babe keeps his head stubbornly where it is, so Gene watches with wide eyes as his own hips twitch, once, twice, three times, and he spills into Babe's mouth. Babe moans, eyes clenched shut, and his hand speeds up as he brings himself off, not letting off Gene for a second. He keeps his mouth on Gene when he comes, and every sound he makes reverbates through Gene's whole body. He watches as Babe's hips twitch on the bench, can just make out the outline of his dick as he's stripping it with fast movements of his fist, until he stops, jerks and slows his hand as he spills over his fist.
They shudder through their orgasms, their breaths loud and obscene in the otherwise quiet room. Finally, Babe pulls back, catching his breath and wiping his lips, and Gene can't help but lean down to kiss him again. The taste on Babe's lips is bitter, a little strange, and Gene knows he should find it disgusting, but he can't think of anything better than tasting himself from Babe's mouth.