[Night Two]

[thewordofweb]

I cannot believe he fucking heckled me.

...That's about the only thing that comes to mind as I sit there with the brush and shove it through the long hair, still figuring out how I'm going about this. This, this being whatever attachments have fused and grown firmer in our time here and through yesterday (however you explain that) and this morning (I'm not sure if we can explain that away, given our sobriety) and now I'm standing at the door we share in a strapless red number that cuts down to my ankles and my bare feet press against the wooden floor.

There is a very set plan about this and I might have even stolen some products for the night, pressing pink to lips and smudges to eyes in a simplistic way the likes that Oscar Wilde would have very much approved of (it's really almost as if this place and these events would have fit so perfectly in his novels). So there I am, with a plan, and with a single knock on Joe's door, it's not going to reverse, now.

Comments

[soldier-singled.livejournal.com]

"He blind?"

Joe grins, his eyes flicking to Web's face in the small mirror set up on the wall.

"He'd have to be mad not to."

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

I grin right back at Joe, feeling like we're just having our own private moment again and when my eyes catch his, I honestly don't know how he hasn't seen it yet, but maybe, well, maybe Joe's not as smart as I'm giving him credit for. "Well, then, you'd better not disappoint. I expect full dress."

[soldier-singled.livejournal.com]

For a moment, Joe just watches Web's face in the mirror, and then he can't help the little smile that creeps onto his face, his fingers still curled in Web's long dark hair.

"Me?"

He's honestly got no fuckin' clue what's going on here anymore.

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

My eyes don't pry from his in that tiny mirror and I grin, full strength, a broad grin that lights up my whole face and words sit precariously in the back of my mind to remember, but I push them away and don't think of Germany right now. "Yeah, you," I agree, gesturing with my fingers to my room. "You've got clothes on the bed. But you better finish my hair," I say sternly. "I'm not walking out there with a bird's nest."

[soldier-singled.livejournal.com]

"What am I, a fuckin' kid? You're dressing me now?" He says that, but it's a pretty fuckin' great smile, and maybe he's forgetting David Kenyon Websters in there or maybe he ain't. It's hard to tell.

He arches his eyebrows.

"You want I should change now or finish your hair first, ma'am."

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

"I am not a girl, so fuck off, Joe," I inform him curtly. "And just remember that I might be going out with you right now, but keep being like that and I really will go stand outside in this dress and find the highest bidder." All this is said as I'm fidgeting with the dress, yanking it up over annoying breasts that will probably delight Liebgott's memory for hours to come. "Go ahead and change," I encourage. "Might as well see if what I found for you fits."

[soldier-singled.livejournal.com]

"Stop playing with your tits," Joe points out, as he walks out of the room, leaving the adjoining door open. "You're making it really hard to act like a gentleman."

He stares at the clothes laid out on the bed for a long moment. Short of his dress greens, he ain't never dressed like that. He can't shake the feeling he's utterly out of his depth here and he ain't sure he cares.

It takes a few minutes, but he pads back into the door way, shirt sleeves rolled up, sneakers on because it was that or his jump boots.

"Well?"

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

I really should admit on a shallow level that I know what I want from this moment forward, but admitting that leads to several problems and I'm not willing to do that, so I simply stare at Joe and nod, wordlessly. "You look," I say quietly, words hushed by the way my roam slowly over him. "Amazing."

Really, he looks about as beautiful as I always imagined, under all that grief and grime.

[soldier-singled.livejournal.com]

Joe's face colours and he makes a dismissive gesture with one hand as he moves back behind the chair.

"Shut ya mouth, Webster or I'm gonna pull your damn hair."

He's got most of the knots unworked now and he starts combing it through with his fingers.

"I'm leaving it down," he says.

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

I'm sure I reply. At least, I tell myself I do because I've let my eyes shut and shift back into the chair as I try and remember the last time anyone gave me attention of this sort, of stroking fingers through hair instead of yanking on it too hard and that was before the war. When I was twenty, too long ago to even remember.

"Mmhmm," at some point, is eventually eked out.

[soldier-singled.livejournal.com]

Joe works in silence for a while until he's content with how Web's hair looks, glossy curls on his shoulders.

"Okay," he says. "Last chance to go find something else."

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

My eyes nearly shoot open when Joe speaks again and I glance to his hands, the curls, and all of it and I know that I wouldn't have changed my mind even if there was some perfect person waiting out there for me. I simply stand and head back to my room to find the pair of red flats, sliding them on and making my way to the hall without a word to Joe, still fidgeting with the dress and cursing under my breath.

[soldier-singled.livejournal.com]

So he's supposed to follow, he guesses. He takes a moment to put his things away properly (old habits die hard) and then he follows Webster out into the hall.

"What's first?"

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

I lean back and wait for Joe, long enough to grab hold of his hand and to fish out the little slip of a handkerchief, easing behind him and tying it over his eyes. "This," I inform him, lips right by his ear, "is for heckling me and calling me a fag for going to Harvard." With that, I yank the knot tight and finished.

"Dinner, on the dock. Things are ready. Then whatever you want. I mean, it's not as if we need to follow what I said we'd do. I doubt you'd really want to stargaze or dance or anything like that."

[soldier-singled.livejournal.com]

With the blindfold on, Joe's skittish, but you can always trust the man next to you, long as he's a Paratrooper, even if that Paratrooper's temporarily a woman who smells really fuckin' good.

"I gotta find my own way down there?"

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

The notion is slightly tempting, I will admit. But I'm not going to be that cruel and I reach and grab Liebgott's hand with both of mine and hold him by the wrist as I walk him out of the Homestead and in the direction of my sloop (now outfitted with pillows and linens, foods, and papers and pens). "I mean, Harvard is a respectable place of study," I lecture as we go. "It doesn't mean that a person is slightly more inclined one way or another just because he likes to read."

[soldier-singled.livejournal.com]

Joe lets himself be led, careful not to stumble, careful not to trip, and still breathing in the scent of Web that's different, somehow.

"I'm not sayin' it's just the readin', Webster," he says, and, mostly, he's joking, but, yeah, there's a treacherous little bit of his brain that remembers Webster kissing back.

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

I tug and yank and sometimes lead Joe over uneven path just to see what he does, but for the most part, I am steadfast and true in our path and don't falter. "And today? The heckling? But really, I get that. I really do," I say, and it's neither a compliment nor a curse.

I stay quiet as I bring him to the beach and only when we can hear the lapping of waves do I take the blindfold off him and make my way up the dock without him to fetch the food inside the cabin of my boat, finding it and bringing it back out, setting it down on wooden planks while the sky is brilliantly clear above.

[soldier-singled.livejournal.com]

Though Joe stumbles once or twice, he manages to keep his feet just fine, one had firm in Web's.

"In my defense, you were pitchin' like a fuckin' girl," he says. "And the tits aren't no defense when Kara can throw the way she does."

On the deck, Joe stands for a moment, and part of him thinks he oughts to be looking at the sky, the moon which has never looked so big, but he's watching the girl on the boat who ain't a girl at all.

"Wow. Look at all this."

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

"If you suddenly had a pair of breasts, you'd be off balance too," I complain as I lean back for the white wine and lean over the edge of the boat to get it open. It's a calm night which means next to no waves, which is why I don't mind doing it there, where there's actual places to perch. "Especially these annoying sandbags," I mutter, back curving to really take a look downwards before moving on and unpacking the simplest of meals in the form of pasta-bowls and breads.

I ignore anything else because I'm toeing off my shoes and getting settled against the railing on the wooden bench, a quarter glass of wine watered down so as to avoid things like...well, last night.

[soldier-singled.livejournal.com]

"Hell, I'm off balance 'cause of yours."

It's a rare moment of honesty and Joe reaches for his wine to hide it. Once Web kicks off his shoes, Joe reaches for one of his feet, bringing it up into his lap.

He couldn't explain why he does it either, other than it's easier to forget how fucked up this all is when he's touching skin.

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

Out of simple reaction, my toes curl slightly at the suddenly welcome movement and they brush against Liebgott's inner thigh, just touching, just enough to remind me of what he's done. The wine is watery and dry at once and I ignore the food for the most part, having eaten while I cooked. The stars are far, far more interested and I tip my head back, hair falling over shoulders as I sight constellations that ought to never belong together, and yet there they are, co-existing perfectly entwined and seemingly natural for it.

"Here," I coax, "Look," I say, pointing skywards and shifting until it's not my foot in his lap, but my bottom inside, shoving a space for myself so I can grab hold of his hand and point it upwards to track the stars. "Circinus," I marvel with a hint of a grin. "The compasses." Without a moment's breath, I find another. "And Perseus, the hero. Virgo," I add, tapping a point of each major star in it. "Literal translation," I explain, tipping my head back. "The maiden."

[soldier-singled.livejournal.com]

It all happens so fast that Joe can't follow it, but suddenly, he's got Web in his lap and they're stargazing, just like Web said. What Joe remembers is the nights in Bastogne when the fog broke and he tipped his head back and saw the stars among the bare branches.

"That'd be you, then," he teases, taking his mind off it.

[thewordofweb.livejournal.com]

I spend moments explaining more constellations, ignoring Joe's words and the way I can feel the warmth of his body every time I take a deep breath in and out and finally finish on a quiet utterance of, "Vulpecula." My eyes scan the stars and they shouldn't all be in this hemisphere. It's impossible.

Says I, sitting in Joe Liebgott's lap and wearing a skin not my own. Impossible has become the norm now. I lean forward for the bowls of food and pass it to him, picking up the bottle of wine to top us off in the meanwhile as I shuffle to get momentum and to pry myself out of his lap.

[soldier-singled.livejournal.com]

With food in one hand, Joe's other finds Web's hip without any instruction from him at all. He's not even in control at the moment. He has no idea where this is going.

"Don't have to," he says.