FIC: Sad Songs to Keep Me Awake, part 5
Haha, bet you thought THIS was never getting updated. Ugh, also I thought I could wrap it up in five, but looks like it's a six-parter after all. But I swear to God I'm going to finish it asap, if only so I can stop feeling so guilty about it.
Title: Sad Songs to Keep Me Awake, part 5
Fandom: Band of Jonas Brothers
Pairings: Joe Jonas/George Luz, Nick Jonas/Lewis Nixon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 9,780 words (out of 39,500 total to-date)
Disclaimer: Obvs totally fictional. The Jonas Brothers have never gone to war of any type, not even a sexy one, as far as I am aware.
Summary: Pick a side, JoBros, we're at war.
WARNINGS: Underage (16 years old). Older dude/younger dude. (Also, for the whole fic, incest, though not in this part.)
Author's Note: Blah blah Lovebug video blah blah shenanigans blah blah dishonoring to our veterans. Aaaand I'm not lying when I say none of this happens without miss_bennie and irishmizzy, who are superheroes. For previous installments, use the tag.
:: back to part 4 ::
**
Luz is just happy, is all. They're in Germany, the war practically on its way to over, and he and Jonas are always together, so much that it's starting to annoy the other guys.
"Will you cut it out?" Liebgott says, kicking the back of Luz's folding chair with a bang.
"What?" Luz says, jerking forward and turning around to glare at Liebgott. They're waiting for a movie to start -- yeah, that's how set they are right now, they get to watch fucking movies again.
"That goddamn whistling," Liebgott says. "Every time I turn around, it's you and that goddamn cheerful whistling. It's driving me crazy."
Luz hadn't even realized he was doing it. "Geez, sorry," he says, and makes himself stop, sitting back in his chair and slumping down, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I think it's nice," Joe says from where he's sitting next to Luz, so close their shoulders are touching. Luz suppresses a smile.
"You would," Liebgott mutters, but then someone clicks the lights off and the projector's starting.
Luz has been doing the voices again when they watch movies. It always makes Joe crack up laughing, egging him on, and Luz just feels so exuberant all the time lately, like he can't sit still, like he has so much energy. So he does the voices this time too, even if it does annoy the crap out of everyone around them. Everyone else being annoyed just makes Joe laugh harder anyway.
This time, Liebgott starts throwing stuff at Luz every time he says something, little smacks of pennies or acorns or whatever hitting the back of Luz's head. Luz just talks louder -- right now he's doing Cary Grant's parts and Jonas is doing Hepburn's, and everyone's getting pretty mad. It's great, actually, hilarious.
"I swear to God, I'm going to fucking kill both of you," Perconte says.
Even Lip turns around. "If you two can't be quiet, you're going to have to leave," he says.
"Is that an order, lieutenant?" Joe asks.
"It is, actually," Lip says. He looks irritated. If Luz was in a worse mood, he might feel a little bad about that.
"You think we can be quiet, Joe?" Luz asks, voice pitched loud enough that everyone can hear. Hey, if they're putting on a show, they're going to put on a show.
"I don't think we can, George," Joe says. Liebgott throws another acorn, this one bouncing off Joe's half-grown out mohawk.
"Well, I guess we better go, then," Luz says, and then he and Joe are up, laughing and shoving at each other, out the doors into the warm night air. It's weird, how warm it is all the time now. Luz almost can't get used to it -- winter felt like it lasted years, out in the Ardennes. Somehow he stopped expecting the cold to end.
He follows Joe down a tiny alley between two buildings, one of the back ways to get to where they're quartered, and nobody's around because they're all in the movie. In the dark, halfway through the alley, their footsteps loud on the cobblestones, Luz snags the back of Joe's uniform, pulling him up short, and when Joe stops walking, turning to face Luz, Luz pushes him up against the side of the building. Joe feels solid under his hands, alive, and he smells like sweat and himself and he's smiling at Luz.
"Somebody'll see," Joe says, but he lets Luz press him back into the stone, leans his head back against the wall, and he's smiling.
"They're all in the movie," Luz says. They're both talking in undertones, quiet, and Luz can't stop looking at Joe. He puts one hand up and traces the dark red scar on Joe's cheek from where he took the shrapnel in Hagenau, and Joe shivers a little bit under his fingertip. "Besides," Luz says, "I'll hear if anybody's coming. I've got eagle ears."
Joe just raises his eyebrows at that, smirking at him like he doubts it. "Wise guy," Luz says and kisses him, bracing one hand against the wall beside Joe's head while the other fists in Joe's shirt.
Joe sighs into his mouth and kisses him back and God, Luz just likes him so much. Luz's chest feels like it's filling up, inflating, like just being around Joe is going to make him float away like a kid's balloon and Joe's got his hands on Luz's hips, pulling Luz up against him. Luz makes a little noise in the back of his throat and the stone wall is cutting into his fingertips where he's got his hand propped because he's started to press into it so hard. He moves his hand to Joe's cheek instead, cups the back of his neck.
Joe's normally so twitchy, so full of energy, but when Luz touches him he's totally relaxed, focused, like all that hyperactivity is finally channeled somewhere, like he's finally paying close attention to just one thing. To Luz. It's strange, and kind of wonderful.
Luz starts to slide down Joe's body, kneeling down on the cobblestones in front of him, rucking Joe's shirt up to mouth at Joe's stomach, and when he undoes Joe's fly, Joe makes a small sound, a sharp intake of air. When Luz looks up at him, Joe's not smirking anymore -- he's looking down at Luz with his eyes half-closed and his mouth open, and he looks so young sometimes. Well, they're all young. But he looks really vulnerable, more vulnerable than Luz usually sees him, and it makes Luz rock back on his heels for a second, just looking up at him.
Sometimes he badly wants to take Joe back to Rhode Island with him after the war. He thinks about asking sometimes, tries to bring their conversations around to what's going to happen when they go home, but Joe always deflects things, makes a joke, avoids the subject. Right now, with Joe looking down at him like this, so open, Luz wants to bring it up again, ask him what they're going to do when all this is over. He thinks maybe Joe would tell him, the way they are right now.
But then he thinks that he doesn't want Joe to change the look on his face, or to dodge the question again, and he just puts his hands on Joe's hips and presses him back against the wall again. Joe makes this sound, air going out of him, and he threads his fingers through Luz's hair, traces the shell of Luz's ear with his thumb, and... Luz can ask him tomorrow. There's no rush. They'll still be here.
It's a weird adjustment to make, thinking they'll probably have tomorrow, the war having gotten to this place where they feel like they're going to make it. Like the whole world opening up in front of them, a long string of tomorrows stretching ahead. He can feel Joe's pulse against his thumbs, and they're both so alive.
Joe's shaking a little bit under his hands, and his skin is warm, and when Luz puts his mouth on him he makes this little sighing moan, really quiet. Luz tongues Joe's cock, grips his hand around the shaft, and listens to Joe make little gasping noises, thinks he could get used to hearing them.
Luz works his mouth, twists his tongue, and Joe's panting, swearing in between breaths. The blood is rushing in Luz's ears, and he's focused on what he's doing, not paying too much attention to what Joe's saying. Joe's stomach is shaking, the muscles there tight, and he's right on the verge of coming, Luz can tell. Luz takes his mouth off just before Joe comes, jerking him off as he finishes, pressing his other hand against his own crotch, and Joe says something that Luz doesn't quite catch. It sounded like -- well, no. It probably wasn't. But through the rushing in Luz's ears it sort of sounded like maybe Joe said I love you. He definitely called him George, at least -- Luz knows he heard that right. And he replays the other in his head, trying to think what else it could've been, and he -- well, he thinks it could've been that.
When he stands up again, Joe's looking at him like... like maybe he did say it. And he holds onto Luz by the shoulders and turns them so Luz is the one against the wall, and Joe kisses him without saying anything, Joe's weight pressing him back, and Luz breathes through his nose and tries not to smile. Yeah, maybe he said it.
**
Their platoon's quartered in a house in the center of town; it's strange, when they stay in regular people's houses, with guys in uniforms sleeping haphazardly all over the place, on the floor, in the bedrooms of the family that used to live there. Incongruous, the ordinary-person house full of soldiers. Like imagining your own parents' whole house full of German soldiers, how strange that would be. Luz is in a tiny bedroom at the very top of the house that must've belonged to a little girl -- there's pink and lace all over, a little attic bedroom barely big enough for a twin bed.
Joe and Nick are in a room a floor down with a couple of the other guys. That's okay. Joe and Nick have been so weird with each other lately that it's probably good for them to be together.
Luz is sound asleep that night when the creak of the door to his room opening wakes him up, all bleary-eyed in the dark. When he rolls over to look at the door, he can just see the silhouette of someone standing there in the moonlight -- a familiar silhouette.
"Joe?" he says, rubbing the sleep out of one eye. "What're you doing in here?"
Joe takes a step into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him and leaning against it. "Nick's gone again," he says. He sounds... bad. Tired. Helpless. "I woke up and he was gone."
"Oh," Luz says.
Joe comes over and sits down on the floor next to Luz's bed so his back rests against the frame. "He's off with Captain Nixon," Joe says, in this tone like he might be about to cry with frustration. "George, I don't know what to do."
Still lying down, Luz reaches his hand out to the back of Joe's neck, drags his knuckles along Joe's skin. Joe's really upset about this thing with his brother and Captain Nixon. Maybe overreacting a little bit, though Luz would never say that to him exactly. Anyway, he thinks maybe Joe is actually as upset over Nick not talking to him about it as he is about anything. "I know," Luz says, moving his hand so it's cupping Joe's neck. Joe sighs a little and leans back into Luz's touch.
"Is it okay if I sleep in here tonight?" Joe says. "I'll sleep on the floor."
Luz wants to say that he doesn't have to sleep on the floor if he doesn't want to, even though it's a tiny bed, but he just rubs his thumb along Joe's skin. "Sure," he says.
They sit like that for awhile, Luz's hand on the back of Joe's neck, Joe with his head tipped back onto Luz's wrist, his breathing a little shuddery. Luz listens to it as it evens out, the steady breaths lulling him so he's almost asleep again. It's nice having Joe there, warm under his hand.
"I just want Nick to be okay," Joe finally says, so quiet that Luz almost can't hear him. "Why won't he talk to me?"
Luz doesn't know what to say. He breathes, and rubs his thumb against Joe's neck. Joe's just a black shape in the darkness against the gray of the rest of the room. "I'm sorry," he finally says. It's just -- yeah, maybe Joe is overreacting, but it's all wrong, the Jonases not talking to each other.
War is hell, he guesses. Whatever.
After awhile, Joe lies down on the floor and Luz falls asleep. He wakes up again sometime when it's still dark, when Joe's crawling under the covers with him.
"Hey," Luz says, groggy as hell.
"Scoot over," Joe says.
The bed's really too small for the two of them, so Luz has to roll onto his side and then he and Joe settle together, so they're half on top of each other. It's like a foxhole. Sort of strangely comforting, in a weird way. Luz falls back asleep almost immediately, Joe's face pressed against the back of Luz's neck, Joe's even breathing in his ears.
**
Luz is dreaming about sex, heavy desire weighting down all his limbs. The feeling's so intense that it's drawing him groggily out of sleep, getting stronger and stronger as he comes awake, so strong he can barely handle it, and as he wakes up more he realizes that Joe touching him wasn't just in the dream, that the hand he feels on him is actually happening, moving on him agonizingly slowly, Joe rubbing his thumb over the tip of Luz's cock. Luz moans. He can feel Joe's own erection against his back, pressed together in the tiny bed and as Luz wakes up he presses back against Joe, so Joe groans too, breath hot on the back of Luz's neck.
"Joe," Luz gets out.
"George," Joe says, mouth moving against Luz's skin, his voice raspy from sleep, and then Joe starts to work Luz's pants down over his hips, pulling at the waistband. Luz still feels like he's half-dreaming, like this isn't really happening. He rubs at one eye, then wiggles around to help Joe gets his pants down, lifting his hips, then bucking forward into Joe's hand when he grips Luz tighter. Luz turns his head back over his shoulder, and Joe moves to kiss him, a drowsy sleepy kiss. Joe's mouth is warm, tastes like home.
Soon Luz's pants are down around his knees and Joe's jerking him off, slow and sleepy, as though they've done this a thousand times, and the bed doesn't feel so small with Joe pressed up against him like this, so they fit together like puzzle pieces. Behind him, Joe's wiggling his own pants down, and then Luz can feel Joe's cock sliding against the crack of his ass, down between Luz's legs. Luz presses his legs together instinctively, so they're tight where Joe's cock moves between them and Joe moans, his hand stuttering as it moves on Luz. The tip of Joe's cock hits Luz's balls, slides a little along the base of his cock every time Joe thrusts forward, leaving traces of sticky wetness when he does, and oh Christ. Joe's hand moves on Luz's cock in time with his thrusts between Luz's legs, and Luz is still half asleep, the drowsiness making it all feel way more intense, how hard Luz is, how much he wants Joe, Joe gasping hotly against his skin, mouthing at the nape of Luz's neck.
"George," Joe says, and Luz presses his legs together tighter, so Joe gasps and jerks in between them, and Luz can't catch his breath. Joe's hand on him is so sure, and his cock is hitting Luz's, a wet teasing motion, and before he's even quite aware it's happening, Luz is coming helplessly over Joe's hand, everything still feeling like he's more than half asleep, caught up in all the sensations. Joe comes a second after, warm and wet on Luz's legs and cock, and God, it's messy and amazing and Joe's still holding onto him. He kisses Luz's neck, his shoulder as they catch their breath, still lying there, wrapped around Luz in the tiny bed up under the eaves, the rest of the house so far away they can't even hear anybody else.
When Luz can finally breathe again, he rolls so he can look at Joe, half turned over his shoulder. Joe's smiling at him, kind of stupid and goofy looking, and Luz can feel himself grinning back the same way, and they just look at each other for a long time. The sun's coming in pale through the window, early morning, and it's the first time they've ever done anything in a bed, just like they're regular people, not soldiers at all. Joe keeps looking at him, neither of them saying anything, just smiling away.
They lie there for awhile, not wanting to get up, but the light coming in through the window gets stronger and stronger, and finally, sighing, Luz goes to sit up. Joe follows. His hair's sticking up and they're both rumpled, and Luz uses the sheets to try to clean them up a little bit, wiping himself off, then Joe.
"I guess we should probably go down separately, huh?" Luz says as Joe yawns, sitting on the edge of the bed. He's still a little flushed, his cheeks red from what they were just doing. It looks nice.
Joe nods through the yawn. "Yeah, I guess," he says, words all stretched out and yawny, and then he closes his mouth, looking at Luz appraisingly.
"Do I look like I was just doing anything?" Luz asks, a little worried that there are some marks that show or something.
Joe sort of peers at him, like he's really trying to figure it out. He looks at Luz's neck carefully, where he was mouthing it earlier, pulling Luz's collar down a little bit.
"Is there a mark?" Luz asks, after he's looked at it for what feels like forever.
"No," Joe says quietly, and then kisses Luz's neck again, holding his mouth there for a long second. Luz goes very still, closing his eyes.
When Joe finally pulls back, he says, "I'm supposed to be on sentry duty at the checkpoint this morning." His voice sounds kind of rough. "I can skip it, right?"
Luz sort of laughs, looking over at him. "Yeah, Speirs'll be really thrilled about that."
Joe smiles at him. His hair is still all over the place. Luz reaches out to run his fingers through it, try to smooth it down, make it look less like he was just doing stuff up here that he wasn't supposed to do. Joe's hair isn't very cooperative. Joe closes his eyes, leans into Luz's fingers. Luz gets up to stand in front of him, between Joe's legs as he pushes his fingers against Joe's scalp, through his hair.
"It's kind of curly, isn't it?" Luz finally says. "Your hair. I never noticed before." It is -- not as curly as Nick's, but a little curly.
"Yeah," Joe says. "A little."
Luz manages to finger-comb Joe's hair into a little bit of submission, so it's not so bad anymore. And then he keeps going for a few minutes longer than he really needs to. It's just kind of nice, Joe's scalp against his fingers.
Finally Luz says, "There you go."
Joe opens his eyes again and smiles at him. "Thanks," he says. He glances at his watch. "I'm late," he says, but he doesn't move too quickly, like he doesn't want to leave either. Luz sort of presses forward against Joe, touching his shoulders, and then Joe drops his head to butt it up against Luz's chest, just resting it against him. Luz puts his hand on the back of Joe's neck, the smooth skin there.
"I should go," Joe says, his voice muffled against Luz's body.
"Yeah," Luz says. "You probably should." But neither of them move.
They stay like that for a long minute, until Joe finally leans back, stands up. "Okay," he says, laughing a little. "I'm gonna go. But I'll see you later, right?"
"Right," Luz says, and smiles at him, and then Joe's closing the door behind him softly. Luz stays up in the room for a few more minutes, giving Joe enough of a buffer so that it doesn't look like they woke up together.
He looks out the window, watches Joe come out of the front door. Joe's still all disheveled, clothes rumpled, boots untied, and he takes off down the street hitching his rifle up over his shoulder, almost tripping over his own feet, helmet dangling from one hand and banging against his knee. Luz watches until Joe moves out of sight, jogging around the corner with his uniform flapping, small from Luz's perspective from the top of the house.
Luz goes and sits down on the bed to wait a few more minutes, running his hand over the scratchy blanket. He can still feel where Joe's head was resting against his chest, the warm weight of it. He thinks about the night before, what Joe might've said in that alley. Wondering if he really heard him right, if Joe really said he loved him.
The sun's coming through the window and onto the bed, and he can see the lines of the panes casting shadows against the blanket, and he's pretty sure Joe said it.
**
They can't get enough of each other, is the thing. They sneak off every chance they get.
"I mean, he thinks because he's an officer, he can do whatever perverted thing he wants," Joe says as they cut across the field to the barn.
He's talking about Captain Nixon again -- he's been saying some variation on this every five minutes for what feels like forever. It's not that Luz doesn't sympathize, but it's getting old. Yeah, little Jonas and Lewis Nixon, the worst thing that's ever happened to humanity. Got it. "Mmm," he says.
"And he's old," Joe says. "Nick's just a kid. It's messed up, right?"
Luz pulls open the door of the barn, the smell of straw and animals hitting them, like the state fair back home. "I don't know if you've noticed," he says, starting to walk inside. Dust and straw kick up, motes hovering in the sunbeams streaming through the cracks in the barn wall. "But I'm a little older than you are myself."
"Hey!" Joe says, sounding indignant as he follows Luz in. "That's different."
"It is, huh," Luz says. He smiles a little. They came all the way over to this farm so they could finally get some more privacy during the day and, well, no one's around. This'll be great, if Joe can bring himself to stop talking about his little brother for five seconds.
"Nick's a baby," Joe says. "He's sixteen. Officers shouldn't be doing stuff to him, it's wrong."
Luz wants to point out that Nick's a soldier, that if you've killed Germans and spent months holding the line at Bastogne, maybe you're adult enough to make your own decisions about whatever else you want to do. But Joe's clearly really upset, so that line of conversation isn't going to get him anywhere. Neither is pointing out that Captain Nixon isn't making Nick do anything he doesn't want to do.
"Yeah, okay," Luz says instead, and pulls the door of the barn closed behind them, leaving them alone in the dusty darkness. A chicken clucks. "So," Luz says, reaching out for Joe. "Are you going to get over here, or are you going to keep talking about your brother?"
Luckily Joe finally kisses him, pressing him up against the rough wood of the barn wall, pushing their bodies flush together. The warm weight of Joe against him feels good, the sprawl of his skinny chest, his hands braced on either side of Luz's head. Joe presses his hips into Luz's and Luz groans.
"About time," Luz says as Joe moves to kiss his neck. Joe sort of laughs against Luz's skin and knuckles him in the side, going to tickle him. Luz laughs and squirms and God, he likes Joe. He's just so happy lately.
Joe kneels down in front of Luz in the straw, one hand on Luz's hip as he undoes Luz's fly, Luz getting harder at the touch. Oh, it's nice to get away from the platoon, to have a little time to themselves. Germany's great.
He watches Joe lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, leans back against the wall and rests his head back, focusing on the feeling, watching in the dim light as Joe takes it into his mouth. He puts his hand on the top of Joe's head, in his dirty hair, and tries not to moan as Joe tongues the slit, mouth hot around Luz. Joe's turning out to be as good with his tongue as Luz always thought he would be.
**
They're both flushed and out-of-breath by the time they go stumbling out of the barn and into the afternoon sunshine, trying hard not to touch each other even though their shoulders keep bumping. It's a little bit of a hike to get back to where they're quartered, but that's no big deal, and they strike out along the road, army jeeps passing them occasionally, roaring off on official business.
Everything seems so green after that long winter, so much lighter. Luz is feeling pretty good as they come around a curve in the road, telling Joe a joke about a priest, a monkey, and a jar of peanut butter, when it becomes obvious Joe isn't listening.
Luz trails off, following Joe's look, and sees a jeep pulled over to the side of the road with a flat tire, a guy in fatigues cursing and starting to change it. No big deal, except the guy is Captain Nixon. Joe looks really taken aback at first, but then as Luz watches he shifts to a look of angry determination and Joe starts to stalk towards Captain Nixon even faster, so Luz almost has to jog to catch up. Shit, this is not good -- Nixon's an officer, Joe can't... well, he can't do whatever it is that he probably wants to do, anyway.
"Hey!" Joe yells when he gets close enough. Captain Nixon's head goes up and when he sees who it is he blinks a few times, looking wary, but not too surprised, considering. Maybe he's been waiting for this to happen since Joe saw him and Nick together -- one good thing, at least at the moment this stretch of road is empty except for the three of them. Luz trails behind Joe, hoping Joe doesn't decide to do anything too spectacularly stupid. "I want to talk to you," Joe says to Nixon, getting closer.
"Really," Captain Nixon says flatly. He wipes sweat off his forehead, his hand leaving a streak of grease there, and goes back to changing the tire.
"Yeah," Joe says, walking right up and crowding him.
Oh Christ. "Jonas," Luz says. "C'mon, man. Don't."
Joe ignores him, poking Nixon in the chest. Crap. "What do you think you're doing, messing around with my brother?"
Nixon's face goes carefully blank. "I don't know what you mean," he says, neutral but with a hint of fear behind the smooth lie. It's the tone of someone used to hiding, to worrying about court-martials -- Luz has heard himself sound that exact same way.
Joe's not about to drop it, though. "The hell you don't," he says. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but you keep your dirty perv hands off him."
"Joe," Luz says, getting alarmed. Christ, Nixon is an officer.
Captain Nixon's starting to get mad. "Oh yeah?" he says. "Or what?" He's taller than Joe, and broader. He draws himself up to his full height.
Joe's furious, his jaw clenched, clearly too furious to think about what he's doing. The idiot. "Look," Joe gets out. "I don't know what you did to him to make him... whatever. But Nick is a kid, all right? You can't just use him to do whatever you want."
"Look, pal," Nixon says, eyes flashing, stepping forward so he and Joe are nose-to-nose. God, Joe's going to get court-martialed for insubordination, what is wrong with him? "I don't know what you've been imagining." Nixon's talking in a low, tight, controlled voice and it's terrifying. "But that innocent kid brother of yours? I haven't done anything to him he didn't want. That he didn't beg me for."
Oh Jesus. Joe sucks in a breath like a sob and his arm actually goes up to punch Nixon, but Luz grabs his wrist before he can do anything that monumentally stupid, pulling Joe away.
"That is not fucking true!" Joe's saying as Luz pulls him off, down the road, away from Nixon. There's no point in Joe continuing this conversation, obviously. And his voice has that note of hysteria to it that means he knows what Nixon said is right, but he desperately wishes it weren't.
"Joe," Luz says, pushing him to keep walking, along the bend of the road, so they're starting to get out of sight of Nixon, who's still watching them without much expression.
"That fucker," Joe's saying. "I'll kill him. He's lucky I didn't kill him."
"Yeah," Luz says, trying to be soothing. "I know." They're out of sight now, alone on the stretch of road.
"Seriously," Joe says, and makes a sharp movement like he's going to go back.
Luz puts his hands on Joe's chest to stop him, pushing him until they're off to the side of the road, in a grove of trees. He backs Joe up against one, Joe still ranting furiously. "Nick didn't -- Nick wouldn't --"
"Shh," Luz says. "I know."
"That pervert better watch his back," Joe's saying. Luz has him pinned against the tree, holding him there with his hands on Joe's chest, but even so, Joe doesn't really show any signs of shutting up.
"Joe," Luz says, as Joe keeps talking furiously. "Joe." But Joe's still sort of craning to look around the bend of the road, sputtering about how Nick wouldn't do any of that if somebody didn't make him, and finally Luz figures that kissing him is the only way to get him to cool it.
"Shh," Luz says, kissing him in the middle of a word.
"But--" Joe goes to keep talking, even against Luz's mouth.
"Shh," Luz says again, and kisses him harder. After a long moment Joe finally gives into it, quieting and kissing Luz back, teeth scraping against Luz's lower lip.
Luz kisses Joe again and again, light kisses as Joe slowly calms down, going still under Luz's hands. Luz can still feel Joe's heart pounding rapidly inside his chest.
"Okay," Luz says finally, pulling back. "Okay." He leaves his hands on Joe's chest.
"I'm really upset, George," Joe says very quietly, more sad than angry now.
"I know," Luz says. He looks at Joe for a minute, Joe's big dark eyes. "But don't punch an officer, okay? Then you'd get court-martialed and sent home, and I'd be upset."
Joe manages a small smile. "Yeah," he says.
"Yeah," Luz says, and kisses him once more for good measure. Thinks about what Joe maybe said to him, days before. Luz is pretty sure he loves him too. He's been thinking about it all week.
**
That night, Joe crawls into bed with him without asking, at the start of the night instead of the middle, sneaking into the room all quietly without anyone else noticing. "Nick's gone again," he says, staring up at the ceiling instead of looking at Luz. "Nothing I do helps. I might as well just save the energy."
Yeah, Luz half wants to say that he's pretty right there, that he really should save the energy, but Joe sounds so defeated, Luz doesn't want to make it worse. Instead he presses a kiss against Joe's shoulder, thinks about how he loves him. Thinks about how he wants to tell him, see if Joe will say it back again, now when Luz is listening.
Joe's half-sprawled over Luz's body, and Luz likes his weight on top of him. He hooks his leg around the back of Joe's, just to hold him there.
"The light's in my eyes," Joe says, squinting in the moonlight coming in the window and shifting crankily on top of Luz.
Luz just laughs at him. "It's just the moon. Relax," he says, and Joe shifts again. Luz presses his face into Joe's shoulder, thinks about how he wants to say it.
Against his brain's better judgment, his mouth mutters, "I love you," into Joe's skin.
It's kind of muffled, and Luz can't see Joe's face, so he's kind of hoping Joe didn't hear. But Joe goes very still on top of him, stops his fidgeting. It feels like the longest pause in the world, the long silence after. Luz closes his eyes, presses his face farther into Joe's shoulder and sort of hopes that the ground will somehow swallow him up. Oh God, Joe didn't say it after all. God, Luz is an idiot.
But then, finally, finally, Joe says, very softly, "Really?" Like... like it's so good he can hardly believe it, and Luz can't quite catch his breath. He just nods against Joe's shoulder. When he finally looks up at him again, Joe's eyes are so, so wide and bright it's unbelievable.
Joe pulls Luz's face up to kiss him and he says, "Me too, me too," really quietly, and then they're kissing, Joe rolling further on top of him, pressing him down against the bed.
They kiss and they kiss, and then Joe moves to kiss his neck, muttering, "Me too," again, and it's all quiet in the dark, them fumbling with each other, the only noise the sound of their breathing, and the moon is pale on Joe's cheekbones, his shoulders. "Me too," he says again, and he's touching Luz, and Luz feels so deeply, quietly happy, like he just wants to close his eyes and remember every second of it, how Joe's hands feel, his breath hot on Luz's cheek, his hips pressed against Luz's, his dogtags warm from his body, jingling together as they move.
"Me too," Joe says one more time, and Luz stores it up deep in his chest, thinks he's happy.
**
NICK STOP MOMS WORRIED STOP WRITE HOME YOU CHUCKLEHEADS STOP LOVE K2
**
The house where Captain Nixon is quartered is quiet when Nick arrives in the afternoon, after he's relieved from manning the northmost checkpoint out of town. Nick's not even sure Nixon's there, but when he knocks and calls out, "Hello?" Nix yells, "In here!" from the back of the house. Nick smiles, tucking his helmet under his arm, and walks back to the bedroom.
Nix is at the table in the corner, hunched over a typewriter. The sun coming through the window catches the translucent corner of the paper he's typing on, making it look tissue-thin, and Nix is typing laboriously with only his index fingers, one letter at a time. There's a half-empty glass next to his right hand, whiskey dark in the shadow cast by the typewriter, and he's got two days worth of stubble, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, ash an inch thick at the end of it.
"Hi," Nick says, trying not to smile too big, the way he always kind of has to stop himself when he's around Nixon.
Nix glances over at him and manages a half-smile, but there's a reserve in his expression, a sort of tired sadness. "Ah," he says, wry. He extinguishes the cigarette in a saucer, long fingers grinding it out. "The kid comes to the house of perversions."
Nick laughs. "What?"
But Nix doesn't smile. Instead he's turned back to the typewriter, hitting a few keys with some force. Nick wonders if Nix wants him to get lost. He hopes not.
Nick watches him for a second, the bang of the mechanics, the way Nix has to punch hard at the keys. "What are you typing?" Nick asks finally, stepping a little farther into the room and setting his helmet down on the dresser. He already wishes he was kissing Nix, but he always kind of wishes that. It's been a few days.
Nix sighs, bangs at the R key. "Writing letters home to the parents of dead kids," he says. Nick notices suddenly that the circles under his eyes are pretty dark, that Nix doesn't look so good. "You know, your son was heroically blown up inside a plane before he fired a single heroic shot. Goddamn bullshit letters home."
"Oh," Nick says. He doesn't quite know what to say to that. "Why do you have to write those?"
Nix downs the rest of the whiskey in his glass, and then starts to refill it from the bottle of Vat 69 on the corner of the desk. "Made the mistake of making it out of the plane," he says.
Nick watches him for a second as he drinks some more whiskey, feeling unsettled. When Nix goes to put the glass down again, Nick reaches over and takes it out of his hand, their fingers brushing. Nix's eyes flick up to his face, and Nick puts his mouth where Nix's had been on the glass, taking a long drink. He's a lot better at drinking whiskey than he was the first time Nix gave him any -- he's had a lot of practice since then, hanging around Nix so much. He's aware of Nixon watching him swallow, the movement of his mouth and throat, and when he lowers the glass, Nix's eyes are dark. He seems to have to force himself to look away.
"Well," Nick says. "I'm glad you made it out."
Nixon clears his throat, like he feels a little uncomfortable. "Yeah," he says, staring back at the paper he's typing on, the black letters crawling mechanized across it. "Well."
Nick takes another sip of whiskey, and Nixon stares at the paper for another long moment before he flicks it with his finger. "I mean," Nix says, and his voice is rough. "What would your parents want to hear if you got killed before you even got out of the goddamn plane? Your sixteen-year-old son's dead, and for what?"
Nick freezes -- what did he just say?
When he gets up the nerve to look at Nix, Nix is looking at him like the jig is up. "I mean, you are sixteen, right?"
God, he's not supposed to know that. No one's supposed to know that, but especially not Nix. Nick feels panicked, not sure what to say. Finally he blurts out, "Who told you?" Stupid.
Nixon nods slowly at the implied confirmation, still watching Nick with those dark eyes. "Winters," he says.
"Oh," Nick says. Crap. Nix just... wasn't supposed to know that. He's looking at Nick like Nick's a kid, a baby -- like it matters to him that Nick's sixteen, like he regrets ever doing anything with Nick. This is terrible. "Um, how long have you known?"
Nixon runs a hand over his face, then starts to light another cigarette. "A while," he mutters. "Long enough to know better."
Great. Nick just -- he's not going to be able to deal with it if Nixon tries to break this off. He puts out a tentative hand and rests it on Nix's shoulder, feels the heat of Nix's skin through his shirt, feels the planes of muscle and bone, the rise and fall of his breathing.
Nixon exhales smoke and laughs a little, that laugh like he hates himself. "Oh, and your brother thinks I'm corrupting you, by the way."
"What?" Nick says. Oh God, fuck, when did he talk to Joe? And what on earth did Joe say to him? Nick feels a little frantic, just imagining the horrible things Joe might've said.
"Come on, sport," Nix says, putting the cigarette back between his lips and inhaling. "He's got a point."
"No, he doesn't," Nick says.
Nixon blinks, looking at him. After a second, he pointedly looks down at Nick's hand on his shoulder and says, "He doesn't, huh."
Nick just -- he'll deal with Joe later, but he doesn't like how dark Nixon looks, how it's scaring him a little bit. He can't think how to talk Nix out of thinking that he's corrupting Nick, so he takes the cigarette out of Nix's mouth, puts it out, then leans down and kisses him instead.
When Nick pulls back, Nixon says, "You're not really making your case here, champ."
Nick just shrugs. "So?" he says, and kisses him again, the warm ashy taste of Nix's mouth, the width of his shoulders under Nick's hands. After a second Nix sighs and kisses him back, opening his mouth.
When Nick goes to kiss his jawline, starting to move into the chair with him, Nixon says, "You're killing me, kid." But he shifts, leaning back so Nick can fit between him and the table, putting his arm around Nick to hold onto him, so it's not exactly like he's protesting very hard.
"My brother's an idiot," Nick says into his skin.
Nix doesn't say anything to that, but he gets his hand under Nick's shirt, hot against Nick's skin, and Nick feels better already, like things are going to be all right, the way he always feels when Nix is touching him. Yeah, things are going to be all right.
**
Like usual, the battalion ships out on almost no notice, everyone milling around the square in Sturzelberg getting set to go. Nick pushes through the crowds, looking to see if he can find Captain Nixon before he has to go get in the convoy. He misses him a little bit already, doesn't know how easy it'll be to see him wherever they're going next.
But when he comes up behind Nixon, Nix is yelling something at Lip and Major Winters about a dog, throwing his helmet and Nick's never seen him lose his cool like that. Nick hesitates, standing behind them, and then Lipton's disappearing, and Winters is saying something to Nix, touching his shoulder before he vanishes into the crowd to make sure the supplies are in order. After he's gone Nix turns around and sees Nick standing there.
"Oh," Nix says. He still looks angry, distracted, and his eyes slide right past Nick, not quite looking at him. "Hi."
"Are you okay?" Nick asks.
Nix is scowling, picking his helmet back up like it's personally offended him. "Not really," he says, letting out an irritated puff of air. After a pause, when Nick keeps looking at him, he says, "My wife's divorcing me."
Nick feels himself go very, very still. His -- his what? "Your wi-- you're married?" Nick's voice sounds strange, sort of strangled. Nix is married? Since when is he married?
Nix glances at him then, makes a sort of rueful face over the frown. "Yeah, kid," he says, and he's softened a little bit, but he isn't.... Well. He's talking in this matter-of-fact tone, like he's not going to beat around the bush, like he doesn't have time for this -- like he's fed up with everything, including Nick. "Why, what'd you think?"
Well, he didn't think that Nix was married. How was he supposed to know that? Nick opens his mouth to say something, but then he realizes he doesn't know what he'd say, and he shuts it again. There are people milling all around them anyway, so it's not like they can really talk about it, but why didn't Nix tell him?
When Nick just stands there, gaping at him, Nix seems to lose interest in the conversation. He runs a hand through his hair. "Where'd Winters go?" he mutters, and then he stalks off into the crowd, leaving Nick standing there like an idiot, feeling abandoned.
Nix has been married this whole time. And of course Nix wants to see Winters, not Nick. Nick's just some dumb kid who thought they were, God, like, in love or something. Like some kind of moron, when all this time Nix has had a wife back home, when Nick doesn't even matter to him as much as Winters does. But why would Nix want to talk to Nick about his divorce? He didn't even care enough to tell Nick he had a wife in the first place.
Nick goes to find the truck he's supposed to ride in in the convoy, swinging himself up into the bed and slumping down on one of the benches. Joe and Luz are across from him, looking cheerful, sitting shoulder to shoulder. Luz is tossing a baseball into the glove he's holding, and Joe keeps trying to snatch it from him. Luz keeps getting it away, though, and they're both laughing at their dumb game.
Nick crosses his arms over his chest and slumps low, next to Webster, who's talking cheerfully about Bavaria. Yeah, fascinating stuff. National Socialism. Guerilla war. Sure.
When the convoy finally starts traveling, the guys all start singing this hell-of-a-way-to-die song. After awhile Nick joins in half-heartedly, just because Joe keeps looking at him and he figures it'd look weird if he wasn't singing at all. He wonders what Nix is doing right now, if he's still all upset because his stupid wife is divorcing him. But no, who cares if he is? Nick doesn't care. It's not like he's taking the whole thing seriously either.
It's just curiosity that's making him wonder if he can see Nixon's jeep from here. That's all. Despite himself, Nick cranes his head out the side of the truck, looking for it. "Glory, glory," Nick joins in, as the front of the convoy starts to go around a curve in the road, and Nick thinks maybe he can see Nixon's jeep now that there's that curve, now that those jeeps are at an angle from him. Nixon's riding in one with Winters. Of course.
Across from Nick, Joe and Luz are singing their hearts out, cracking up laughing when they mix up the words, and Joe's clearly having the time of his life. For a second Nick almost hates him. Joe keeps trying to catch Nick's eye, and Nick knows that he's wanting him to sing the harmonies the way they always used to, but Nick's not in the mood. He crosses his arms tighter and looks away from Joe. The truck's bumping along the road, so Nick keeps getting jostled around uncomfortably.
Joe's flailing around like a lunatic as he sings, kicking and punching on the beat, and he keeps accidentally kicking Nick in the leg when he does. It's right where Nick caught that shrapnel at Bastogne, and every time Nick feels that little throb of pain when Joe's foot connects with the scar tissue, he hates Joe a little more. Not that Joe's doing it on purpose -- everyone's gotten hit so much you can't really avoid the wounds anymore. And Nick could shift so his leg's not right in Joe's range, but he doesn't, just leaves it there. The growing ache in his leg is just something to think about that isn't Nixon's wife. He wonders if she's pretty. He needs a drink.
**
The day they find that death camp is a bad day. It's the smell that gets to Nick the most, decay and shit and death, and it's the smell that follows them back to the town, lodged in his nostrils somehow like he can't leave it behind. Everyone's subdued, even Joe and Luz, and Liebgott's eyes are red.
Nick can't settle. Back in their billet, Joe sits next to Luz, their shoulders wedged together. They're taking turns trying to throw pebbles into Joe's helmet, seeing who can make the most shots. Captain Nixon is married, and Joe's always got Luz to be his best friend, and for a second Nick hates him again, how his elbow is nudging Luz so easily, taking it all for granted. How he doesn't need Nick anymore.
Luckily Liebgott and Webster are drinking in the other room, straight out of the bottles the Germans had left behind in the house, and they don't mind when Nick joins them. He feels like he still reeks of the camp -- it makes him want to scrub his skin off, but after a few drinks it feels like it matters less, everything muted by the alcohol. Yeah, drinking's okay. He doesn't know why it took him so long to start.
Nixon is married, and he never told Nick, and earlier he acted like Nick didn't even matter, and Nick spent the afternoon putting walking skeletons back into a death camp and only being as blazing drunk as he is is keeping him from getting hysterical, easing the pressure behind his eyes.
When Nick finishes the bottle of whiskey they've been passing around, he staggers to his feet, steadying himself on a bureau. "Where're you going?" Web, who's less drunk than Nick and Liebgott, asks.
"I dunno," Nick lies. "Out."
He knows where Nixon's quartered and makes his way there through the dark streets, pounding on the door when he arrives. Even having walked out through all that fresh air, the smell of death has followed Nick, and he pounds harder, smelling it. He just... he'll feel better if Nixon's touching him. He always feels better when he is, and it was a really bad day, and Nixon's married, and. He just needs to talk to him. Nick pounds so hard on the door his hand hurts.
"All right, all right," he hears from inside the house, coming toward the door. Nix opens the door mid-pound, so Nick's fist is still in the air.
When he sees Nick, Nix gets a look on his face that Nick can't quite read. "Jonas," he says. His shoulders slump a little bit, and he's still got those dark circles under his eyes, and the look on his face is like he's too tired to even work up the energy to get annoyed at Nick. If Nick were less upset, he'd be worried about him, how bad he looks.
"Can I come in?" Nick says, a little aggressively. Nix should've told him he was married, is the thing.
For a second Nixon looks like he's going to tell Nick no, but then he shrugs listlessly and says, "I guess." He turns around and heads back down the hallway again, not looking to see if Nick's following him, but leaves the door open like an invitation. Nick follows him unsteadily, closing the door behind him.
When he gets to the living room, Nix is sprawled all loose-limbed on a sofa, bottle of whiskey already in his hand. Nick stops in the doorway, hovering.
When neither of them say anything for a minute, Nix finally says, "Hell of a day, huh, Jonas?" He takes a swig from the bottle he's holding.
Nick nods a little, folding his arms over his chest. He means to be casual, say something about the camp, the prisoners, what the Nazis have been doing this whole time, but instead he blurts out, "Why didn't you tell me you were married?"
Nixon gets a sort of dark, tired look on his face, that one that he's had way too often lately, and stares somewhere above Nick's head. He shrugs. "It didn't seem relevant."
"Didn't seem relevant?" Nick says, sounding as disbelieving as he feels. Just, what the fuck?
Nix shrugs that little tired shrug, giving Nick a long measuring look as he does. "You drunk, Jonas?" he says.
"Yeah, are you?" Nick shoots back.
Nixon nods slowly, still giving Nick that measuring look. "Almost always," he says. "You didn't use to drink, though."
Nick shrugs. He doesn't really know what this has to do with anything. "I'm older now," he says.
"Yeah," Nixon says, going back to looking over Nick's head. He sighs. "I guess we all are."
Nick shifts his weight from one foot to the other, still feeling like he'd like to yell at Nixon but not knowing what to say. Finally he just mutters, "You should've told me you were married."
Nix does look annoyed at that, finally -- he runs a hand through his hair. "C'mon, sport, what'd you think?" he says, sounding fed up. "That we were going to live happily ever after? Go home and make babies? Get real."
And it's not that he sounds mad exactly. Just exasperated, like Nick is a stupid kid wasting his time. And... what had Nick thought? God, maybe he is a stupid kid -- he just. He hadn't thought Nix was married, is all.
"Your brother was probably right," Nix says. His expression's gone really dark, like he's at the end of his rope, like everything's catching up with him and this is the last straw. "This was a big mistake."
Nick feels himself start to crumble at that. Just -- Nix is married, and Nick's just some dumb kid he was fooling around with, not even important enough to tell anything to, and what's Nick been thinking?
"Yeah," Nick says, and dammit, his voice is wobbling. "Yeah, I guess so." He turns to leave before he completely falls apart, and Nix doesn't call after him.
As he's stumbling out the front door, he nearly runs into Major Winters, on his way in to see Nix. Winters catches his elbow, steadying Nick so he doesn't fall over.
"Jonas?" he says, sounding concerned. "You all right?"
"Yeah," Nick chokes out. "Thanks." And he's pulling away, heading back towards his own billet. Of course Winters is on his way in -- he's Nix's best friend, the one Nix really cares about. He's not some dumb kid taking things too seriously.
Nick needs another drink.
**
By the time Nick makes it back to his own platoon, he's worked himself up into a pretty good rage at Joe. Because Joe yelled at Nixon, and told him he was corrupting Nick, and Nixon's been in this weird mood ever since, and just -- what does Joe think he's doing, saying whatever he said to Captain Nixon? How is it any of his business, anyway? Why is he trying to ruin Nick's life?
Joe and Luz are sitting basically where Nick left them, on the floor of the master bedroom with their backs against the bed frame. They look up when Nick comes in, but both still look pretty subdued. Nick can still smell the camp from earlier, still feels that helpless hopelessness that anything like that could exist. It had been feeling like the war was almost over, like maybe they were getting towards the end of horrible things, but now they're all back in it again, and maybe the war's never actually going to end, and it's hard to imagine going home after that camp, hard to imagine that things will ever really be okay.
"Hey, Joe," Nick says, voice shaking a little. "Can I talk to you?"
"Uh, sure," Joe says. It's weird -- it feels like they've barely talked lately. Luz always seems to be around these days.
Nick means for the two of them to go outside, but Luz gets up instead. "Later, Joe," he says as he leaves, and then it's just Joe and Nick, alone in the heavy dark furnishings of the German house. Strange, how weird it feels for the two of them to be alone. With him standing up and Joe still sitting on the floor it's an odd dynamic, Nick towering over Joe like that.
"What," Nick starts, feeling how angry he is, "exactly did you say to Captain Nixon about me?"
Joe's face immediately shuts down, wary. "What do you mean?" he says, like he's pretending he doesn't know what Nick's talking about.
Nick would kind of like to hit him. "God, Joe, c'mon," he says. "You promised me you wouldn't say anything. You promised."
Joe crosses his arms over his chest. "No, I didn't," he says. "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. I never promised I wouldn't tell that perv to keep his hands off you."
Oh, holy God, that's even worse than Nick thought. Nick wants to die of mortification thinking about Joe saying that to Nix. "Joe!" he says. "What -- why would you -- oh my God, Joe, what's the matter with you?"
"What's the matter with me?" Joe says. He starts to stand up. "Don't you mean, what's the matter with him? You're sixteen, okay? He's not supposed to be -- I'm your big brother, and he's taking advantage of you, and --"
"How is it any of your business?" Nick talks over him. "God, you're so embarrassing. I can take care of myself, okay?"
"Well, obviously not," Joe says, and before Nick knows what he's doing, Nick's shoving Joe, hard, so he staggers back against the bed. Joe looks shocked, and kind of horrified, and Nick's just really pretty drunk right now. For a second they stare at each other, Joe sprawled back where he landed, Nick breathing hard.
"Nick," Joe says finally, staring at Nick like he barely recognizes him. He sounds so worried -- suddenly Nick almost wants to cry. "What's going on with you? Why won't you talk to me?" Joe sounds like he might be on the verge of tears himself.
Nick's breaths are coming ragged. "I talk to you," he mutters, but he can't quite look Joe in the eye, and he just feels so helpless, like everything's spiraled out of his control. Nixon doesn't care about him at all, and he just shoved his brother, and he can't forget all those bodies from earlier in the day, and even if he manages to make it home, he's never going to be the same as before. He feels like he barely recognizes the kid he used to be, who thought it'd be a good idea to quit high school and go lie about his age to join up.
Joe stands back up slowly and puts his hands on Nick's shoulders. "Nick," he says. "You're drinking all the time, and you're sad, and I just -- I just want you to be okay. Are you okay?"
By now Nick's trying desperately not to cry, biting the inside of his cheek. He shakes his head, putting his hands up to clutch at Joe's shirt, and then leans his forehead against Joe's shoulder, breath coming ragged. And Joe's holding onto him, not saying anything else about pervs or Captain Nixon or anything, just holding onto Nick the way he used to do when Nick was a little kid. "Hey," Joe says, and rubs Nick's back, and Nick holds onto him, because nothing's okay.
That night Nick sleeps on the floor of the house with Joe next to him, all pressed up against his side, the way they always used to. Strangely, he sleeps better than he has in awhile.
**
:: on to part 6 ::
Title: Sad Songs to Keep Me Awake, part 5
Fandom: Band of Jonas Brothers
Pairings: Joe Jonas/George Luz, Nick Jonas/Lewis Nixon
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 9,780 words (out of 39,500 total to-date)
Disclaimer: Obvs totally fictional. The Jonas Brothers have never gone to war of any type, not even a sexy one, as far as I am aware.
Summary: Pick a side, JoBros, we're at war.
WARNINGS: Underage (16 years old). Older dude/younger dude. (Also, for the whole fic, incest, though not in this part.)
Author's Note: Blah blah Lovebug video blah blah shenanigans blah blah dishonoring to our veterans. Aaaand I'm not lying when I say none of this happens without miss_bennie and irishmizzy, who are superheroes. For previous installments, use the tag.
:: back to part 4 ::
**
Luz is just happy, is all. They're in Germany, the war practically on its way to over, and he and Jonas are always together, so much that it's starting to annoy the other guys.
"Will you cut it out?" Liebgott says, kicking the back of Luz's folding chair with a bang.
"What?" Luz says, jerking forward and turning around to glare at Liebgott. They're waiting for a movie to start -- yeah, that's how set they are right now, they get to watch fucking movies again.
"That goddamn whistling," Liebgott says. "Every time I turn around, it's you and that goddamn cheerful whistling. It's driving me crazy."
Luz hadn't even realized he was doing it. "Geez, sorry," he says, and makes himself stop, sitting back in his chair and slumping down, crossing his arms over his chest.
"I think it's nice," Joe says from where he's sitting next to Luz, so close their shoulders are touching. Luz suppresses a smile.
"You would," Liebgott mutters, but then someone clicks the lights off and the projector's starting.
Luz has been doing the voices again when they watch movies. It always makes Joe crack up laughing, egging him on, and Luz just feels so exuberant all the time lately, like he can't sit still, like he has so much energy. So he does the voices this time too, even if it does annoy the crap out of everyone around them. Everyone else being annoyed just makes Joe laugh harder anyway.
This time, Liebgott starts throwing stuff at Luz every time he says something, little smacks of pennies or acorns or whatever hitting the back of Luz's head. Luz just talks louder -- right now he's doing Cary Grant's parts and Jonas is doing Hepburn's, and everyone's getting pretty mad. It's great, actually, hilarious.
"I swear to God, I'm going to fucking kill both of you," Perconte says.
Even Lip turns around. "If you two can't be quiet, you're going to have to leave," he says.
"Is that an order, lieutenant?" Joe asks.
"It is, actually," Lip says. He looks irritated. If Luz was in a worse mood, he might feel a little bad about that.
"You think we can be quiet, Joe?" Luz asks, voice pitched loud enough that everyone can hear. Hey, if they're putting on a show, they're going to put on a show.
"I don't think we can, George," Joe says. Liebgott throws another acorn, this one bouncing off Joe's half-grown out mohawk.
"Well, I guess we better go, then," Luz says, and then he and Joe are up, laughing and shoving at each other, out the doors into the warm night air. It's weird, how warm it is all the time now. Luz almost can't get used to it -- winter felt like it lasted years, out in the Ardennes. Somehow he stopped expecting the cold to end.
He follows Joe down a tiny alley between two buildings, one of the back ways to get to where they're quartered, and nobody's around because they're all in the movie. In the dark, halfway through the alley, their footsteps loud on the cobblestones, Luz snags the back of Joe's uniform, pulling him up short, and when Joe stops walking, turning to face Luz, Luz pushes him up against the side of the building. Joe feels solid under his hands, alive, and he smells like sweat and himself and he's smiling at Luz.
"Somebody'll see," Joe says, but he lets Luz press him back into the stone, leans his head back against the wall, and he's smiling.
"They're all in the movie," Luz says. They're both talking in undertones, quiet, and Luz can't stop looking at Joe. He puts one hand up and traces the dark red scar on Joe's cheek from where he took the shrapnel in Hagenau, and Joe shivers a little bit under his fingertip. "Besides," Luz says, "I'll hear if anybody's coming. I've got eagle ears."
Joe just raises his eyebrows at that, smirking at him like he doubts it. "Wise guy," Luz says and kisses him, bracing one hand against the wall beside Joe's head while the other fists in Joe's shirt.
Joe sighs into his mouth and kisses him back and God, Luz just likes him so much. Luz's chest feels like it's filling up, inflating, like just being around Joe is going to make him float away like a kid's balloon and Joe's got his hands on Luz's hips, pulling Luz up against him. Luz makes a little noise in the back of his throat and the stone wall is cutting into his fingertips where he's got his hand propped because he's started to press into it so hard. He moves his hand to Joe's cheek instead, cups the back of his neck.
Joe's normally so twitchy, so full of energy, but when Luz touches him he's totally relaxed, focused, like all that hyperactivity is finally channeled somewhere, like he's finally paying close attention to just one thing. To Luz. It's strange, and kind of wonderful.
Luz starts to slide down Joe's body, kneeling down on the cobblestones in front of him, rucking Joe's shirt up to mouth at Joe's stomach, and when he undoes Joe's fly, Joe makes a small sound, a sharp intake of air. When Luz looks up at him, Joe's not smirking anymore -- he's looking down at Luz with his eyes half-closed and his mouth open, and he looks so young sometimes. Well, they're all young. But he looks really vulnerable, more vulnerable than Luz usually sees him, and it makes Luz rock back on his heels for a second, just looking up at him.
Sometimes he badly wants to take Joe back to Rhode Island with him after the war. He thinks about asking sometimes, tries to bring their conversations around to what's going to happen when they go home, but Joe always deflects things, makes a joke, avoids the subject. Right now, with Joe looking down at him like this, so open, Luz wants to bring it up again, ask him what they're going to do when all this is over. He thinks maybe Joe would tell him, the way they are right now.
But then he thinks that he doesn't want Joe to change the look on his face, or to dodge the question again, and he just puts his hands on Joe's hips and presses him back against the wall again. Joe makes this sound, air going out of him, and he threads his fingers through Luz's hair, traces the shell of Luz's ear with his thumb, and... Luz can ask him tomorrow. There's no rush. They'll still be here.
It's a weird adjustment to make, thinking they'll probably have tomorrow, the war having gotten to this place where they feel like they're going to make it. Like the whole world opening up in front of them, a long string of tomorrows stretching ahead. He can feel Joe's pulse against his thumbs, and they're both so alive.
Joe's shaking a little bit under his hands, and his skin is warm, and when Luz puts his mouth on him he makes this little sighing moan, really quiet. Luz tongues Joe's cock, grips his hand around the shaft, and listens to Joe make little gasping noises, thinks he could get used to hearing them.
Luz works his mouth, twists his tongue, and Joe's panting, swearing in between breaths. The blood is rushing in Luz's ears, and he's focused on what he's doing, not paying too much attention to what Joe's saying. Joe's stomach is shaking, the muscles there tight, and he's right on the verge of coming, Luz can tell. Luz takes his mouth off just before Joe comes, jerking him off as he finishes, pressing his other hand against his own crotch, and Joe says something that Luz doesn't quite catch. It sounded like -- well, no. It probably wasn't. But through the rushing in Luz's ears it sort of sounded like maybe Joe said I love you. He definitely called him George, at least -- Luz knows he heard that right. And he replays the other in his head, trying to think what else it could've been, and he -- well, he thinks it could've been that.
When he stands up again, Joe's looking at him like... like maybe he did say it. And he holds onto Luz by the shoulders and turns them so Luz is the one against the wall, and Joe kisses him without saying anything, Joe's weight pressing him back, and Luz breathes through his nose and tries not to smile. Yeah, maybe he said it.
**
Their platoon's quartered in a house in the center of town; it's strange, when they stay in regular people's houses, with guys in uniforms sleeping haphazardly all over the place, on the floor, in the bedrooms of the family that used to live there. Incongruous, the ordinary-person house full of soldiers. Like imagining your own parents' whole house full of German soldiers, how strange that would be. Luz is in a tiny bedroom at the very top of the house that must've belonged to a little girl -- there's pink and lace all over, a little attic bedroom barely big enough for a twin bed.
Joe and Nick are in a room a floor down with a couple of the other guys. That's okay. Joe and Nick have been so weird with each other lately that it's probably good for them to be together.
Luz is sound asleep that night when the creak of the door to his room opening wakes him up, all bleary-eyed in the dark. When he rolls over to look at the door, he can just see the silhouette of someone standing there in the moonlight -- a familiar silhouette.
"Joe?" he says, rubbing the sleep out of one eye. "What're you doing in here?"
Joe takes a step into the room, shutting the door quietly behind him and leaning against it. "Nick's gone again," he says. He sounds... bad. Tired. Helpless. "I woke up and he was gone."
"Oh," Luz says.
Joe comes over and sits down on the floor next to Luz's bed so his back rests against the frame. "He's off with Captain Nixon," Joe says, in this tone like he might be about to cry with frustration. "George, I don't know what to do."
Still lying down, Luz reaches his hand out to the back of Joe's neck, drags his knuckles along Joe's skin. Joe's really upset about this thing with his brother and Captain Nixon. Maybe overreacting a little bit, though Luz would never say that to him exactly. Anyway, he thinks maybe Joe is actually as upset over Nick not talking to him about it as he is about anything. "I know," Luz says, moving his hand so it's cupping Joe's neck. Joe sighs a little and leans back into Luz's touch.
"Is it okay if I sleep in here tonight?" Joe says. "I'll sleep on the floor."
Luz wants to say that he doesn't have to sleep on the floor if he doesn't want to, even though it's a tiny bed, but he just rubs his thumb along Joe's skin. "Sure," he says.
They sit like that for awhile, Luz's hand on the back of Joe's neck, Joe with his head tipped back onto Luz's wrist, his breathing a little shuddery. Luz listens to it as it evens out, the steady breaths lulling him so he's almost asleep again. It's nice having Joe there, warm under his hand.
"I just want Nick to be okay," Joe finally says, so quiet that Luz almost can't hear him. "Why won't he talk to me?"
Luz doesn't know what to say. He breathes, and rubs his thumb against Joe's neck. Joe's just a black shape in the darkness against the gray of the rest of the room. "I'm sorry," he finally says. It's just -- yeah, maybe Joe is overreacting, but it's all wrong, the Jonases not talking to each other.
War is hell, he guesses. Whatever.
After awhile, Joe lies down on the floor and Luz falls asleep. He wakes up again sometime when it's still dark, when Joe's crawling under the covers with him.
"Hey," Luz says, groggy as hell.
"Scoot over," Joe says.
The bed's really too small for the two of them, so Luz has to roll onto his side and then he and Joe settle together, so they're half on top of each other. It's like a foxhole. Sort of strangely comforting, in a weird way. Luz falls back asleep almost immediately, Joe's face pressed against the back of Luz's neck, Joe's even breathing in his ears.
**
Luz is dreaming about sex, heavy desire weighting down all his limbs. The feeling's so intense that it's drawing him groggily out of sleep, getting stronger and stronger as he comes awake, so strong he can barely handle it, and as he wakes up more he realizes that Joe touching him wasn't just in the dream, that the hand he feels on him is actually happening, moving on him agonizingly slowly, Joe rubbing his thumb over the tip of Luz's cock. Luz moans. He can feel Joe's own erection against his back, pressed together in the tiny bed and as Luz wakes up he presses back against Joe, so Joe groans too, breath hot on the back of Luz's neck.
"Joe," Luz gets out.
"George," Joe says, mouth moving against Luz's skin, his voice raspy from sleep, and then Joe starts to work Luz's pants down over his hips, pulling at the waistband. Luz still feels like he's half-dreaming, like this isn't really happening. He rubs at one eye, then wiggles around to help Joe gets his pants down, lifting his hips, then bucking forward into Joe's hand when he grips Luz tighter. Luz turns his head back over his shoulder, and Joe moves to kiss him, a drowsy sleepy kiss. Joe's mouth is warm, tastes like home.
Soon Luz's pants are down around his knees and Joe's jerking him off, slow and sleepy, as though they've done this a thousand times, and the bed doesn't feel so small with Joe pressed up against him like this, so they fit together like puzzle pieces. Behind him, Joe's wiggling his own pants down, and then Luz can feel Joe's cock sliding against the crack of his ass, down between Luz's legs. Luz presses his legs together instinctively, so they're tight where Joe's cock moves between them and Joe moans, his hand stuttering as it moves on Luz. The tip of Joe's cock hits Luz's balls, slides a little along the base of his cock every time Joe thrusts forward, leaving traces of sticky wetness when he does, and oh Christ. Joe's hand moves on Luz's cock in time with his thrusts between Luz's legs, and Luz is still half asleep, the drowsiness making it all feel way more intense, how hard Luz is, how much he wants Joe, Joe gasping hotly against his skin, mouthing at the nape of Luz's neck.
"George," Joe says, and Luz presses his legs together tighter, so Joe gasps and jerks in between them, and Luz can't catch his breath. Joe's hand on him is so sure, and his cock is hitting Luz's, a wet teasing motion, and before he's even quite aware it's happening, Luz is coming helplessly over Joe's hand, everything still feeling like he's more than half asleep, caught up in all the sensations. Joe comes a second after, warm and wet on Luz's legs and cock, and God, it's messy and amazing and Joe's still holding onto him. He kisses Luz's neck, his shoulder as they catch their breath, still lying there, wrapped around Luz in the tiny bed up under the eaves, the rest of the house so far away they can't even hear anybody else.
When Luz can finally breathe again, he rolls so he can look at Joe, half turned over his shoulder. Joe's smiling at him, kind of stupid and goofy looking, and Luz can feel himself grinning back the same way, and they just look at each other for a long time. The sun's coming in pale through the window, early morning, and it's the first time they've ever done anything in a bed, just like they're regular people, not soldiers at all. Joe keeps looking at him, neither of them saying anything, just smiling away.
They lie there for awhile, not wanting to get up, but the light coming in through the window gets stronger and stronger, and finally, sighing, Luz goes to sit up. Joe follows. His hair's sticking up and they're both rumpled, and Luz uses the sheets to try to clean them up a little bit, wiping himself off, then Joe.
"I guess we should probably go down separately, huh?" Luz says as Joe yawns, sitting on the edge of the bed. He's still a little flushed, his cheeks red from what they were just doing. It looks nice.
Joe nods through the yawn. "Yeah, I guess," he says, words all stretched out and yawny, and then he closes his mouth, looking at Luz appraisingly.
"Do I look like I was just doing anything?" Luz asks, a little worried that there are some marks that show or something.
Joe sort of peers at him, like he's really trying to figure it out. He looks at Luz's neck carefully, where he was mouthing it earlier, pulling Luz's collar down a little bit.
"Is there a mark?" Luz asks, after he's looked at it for what feels like forever.
"No," Joe says quietly, and then kisses Luz's neck again, holding his mouth there for a long second. Luz goes very still, closing his eyes.
When Joe finally pulls back, he says, "I'm supposed to be on sentry duty at the checkpoint this morning." His voice sounds kind of rough. "I can skip it, right?"
Luz sort of laughs, looking over at him. "Yeah, Speirs'll be really thrilled about that."
Joe smiles at him. His hair is still all over the place. Luz reaches out to run his fingers through it, try to smooth it down, make it look less like he was just doing stuff up here that he wasn't supposed to do. Joe's hair isn't very cooperative. Joe closes his eyes, leans into Luz's fingers. Luz gets up to stand in front of him, between Joe's legs as he pushes his fingers against Joe's scalp, through his hair.
"It's kind of curly, isn't it?" Luz finally says. "Your hair. I never noticed before." It is -- not as curly as Nick's, but a little curly.
"Yeah," Joe says. "A little."
Luz manages to finger-comb Joe's hair into a little bit of submission, so it's not so bad anymore. And then he keeps going for a few minutes longer than he really needs to. It's just kind of nice, Joe's scalp against his fingers.
Finally Luz says, "There you go."
Joe opens his eyes again and smiles at him. "Thanks," he says. He glances at his watch. "I'm late," he says, but he doesn't move too quickly, like he doesn't want to leave either. Luz sort of presses forward against Joe, touching his shoulders, and then Joe drops his head to butt it up against Luz's chest, just resting it against him. Luz puts his hand on the back of Joe's neck, the smooth skin there.
"I should go," Joe says, his voice muffled against Luz's body.
"Yeah," Luz says. "You probably should." But neither of them move.
They stay like that for a long minute, until Joe finally leans back, stands up. "Okay," he says, laughing a little. "I'm gonna go. But I'll see you later, right?"
"Right," Luz says, and smiles at him, and then Joe's closing the door behind him softly. Luz stays up in the room for a few more minutes, giving Joe enough of a buffer so that it doesn't look like they woke up together.
He looks out the window, watches Joe come out of the front door. Joe's still all disheveled, clothes rumpled, boots untied, and he takes off down the street hitching his rifle up over his shoulder, almost tripping over his own feet, helmet dangling from one hand and banging against his knee. Luz watches until Joe moves out of sight, jogging around the corner with his uniform flapping, small from Luz's perspective from the top of the house.
Luz goes and sits down on the bed to wait a few more minutes, running his hand over the scratchy blanket. He can still feel where Joe's head was resting against his chest, the warm weight of it. He thinks about the night before, what Joe might've said in that alley. Wondering if he really heard him right, if Joe really said he loved him.
The sun's coming through the window and onto the bed, and he can see the lines of the panes casting shadows against the blanket, and he's pretty sure Joe said it.
**
They can't get enough of each other, is the thing. They sneak off every chance they get.
"I mean, he thinks because he's an officer, he can do whatever perverted thing he wants," Joe says as they cut across the field to the barn.
He's talking about Captain Nixon again -- he's been saying some variation on this every five minutes for what feels like forever. It's not that Luz doesn't sympathize, but it's getting old. Yeah, little Jonas and Lewis Nixon, the worst thing that's ever happened to humanity. Got it. "Mmm," he says.
"And he's old," Joe says. "Nick's just a kid. It's messed up, right?"
Luz pulls open the door of the barn, the smell of straw and animals hitting them, like the state fair back home. "I don't know if you've noticed," he says, starting to walk inside. Dust and straw kick up, motes hovering in the sunbeams streaming through the cracks in the barn wall. "But I'm a little older than you are myself."
"Hey!" Joe says, sounding indignant as he follows Luz in. "That's different."
"It is, huh," Luz says. He smiles a little. They came all the way over to this farm so they could finally get some more privacy during the day and, well, no one's around. This'll be great, if Joe can bring himself to stop talking about his little brother for five seconds.
"Nick's a baby," Joe says. "He's sixteen. Officers shouldn't be doing stuff to him, it's wrong."
Luz wants to point out that Nick's a soldier, that if you've killed Germans and spent months holding the line at Bastogne, maybe you're adult enough to make your own decisions about whatever else you want to do. But Joe's clearly really upset, so that line of conversation isn't going to get him anywhere. Neither is pointing out that Captain Nixon isn't making Nick do anything he doesn't want to do.
"Yeah, okay," Luz says instead, and pulls the door of the barn closed behind them, leaving them alone in the dusty darkness. A chicken clucks. "So," Luz says, reaching out for Joe. "Are you going to get over here, or are you going to keep talking about your brother?"
Luckily Joe finally kisses him, pressing him up against the rough wood of the barn wall, pushing their bodies flush together. The warm weight of Joe against him feels good, the sprawl of his skinny chest, his hands braced on either side of Luz's head. Joe presses his hips into Luz's and Luz groans.
"About time," Luz says as Joe moves to kiss his neck. Joe sort of laughs against Luz's skin and knuckles him in the side, going to tickle him. Luz laughs and squirms and God, he likes Joe. He's just so happy lately.
Joe kneels down in front of Luz in the straw, one hand on Luz's hip as he undoes Luz's fly, Luz getting harder at the touch. Oh, it's nice to get away from the platoon, to have a little time to themselves. Germany's great.
He watches Joe lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, leans back against the wall and rests his head back, focusing on the feeling, watching in the dim light as Joe takes it into his mouth. He puts his hand on the top of Joe's head, in his dirty hair, and tries not to moan as Joe tongues the slit, mouth hot around Luz. Joe's turning out to be as good with his tongue as Luz always thought he would be.
**
They're both flushed and out-of-breath by the time they go stumbling out of the barn and into the afternoon sunshine, trying hard not to touch each other even though their shoulders keep bumping. It's a little bit of a hike to get back to where they're quartered, but that's no big deal, and they strike out along the road, army jeeps passing them occasionally, roaring off on official business.
Everything seems so green after that long winter, so much lighter. Luz is feeling pretty good as they come around a curve in the road, telling Joe a joke about a priest, a monkey, and a jar of peanut butter, when it becomes obvious Joe isn't listening.
Luz trails off, following Joe's look, and sees a jeep pulled over to the side of the road with a flat tire, a guy in fatigues cursing and starting to change it. No big deal, except the guy is Captain Nixon. Joe looks really taken aback at first, but then as Luz watches he shifts to a look of angry determination and Joe starts to stalk towards Captain Nixon even faster, so Luz almost has to jog to catch up. Shit, this is not good -- Nixon's an officer, Joe can't... well, he can't do whatever it is that he probably wants to do, anyway.
"Hey!" Joe yells when he gets close enough. Captain Nixon's head goes up and when he sees who it is he blinks a few times, looking wary, but not too surprised, considering. Maybe he's been waiting for this to happen since Joe saw him and Nick together -- one good thing, at least at the moment this stretch of road is empty except for the three of them. Luz trails behind Joe, hoping Joe doesn't decide to do anything too spectacularly stupid. "I want to talk to you," Joe says to Nixon, getting closer.
"Really," Captain Nixon says flatly. He wipes sweat off his forehead, his hand leaving a streak of grease there, and goes back to changing the tire.
"Yeah," Joe says, walking right up and crowding him.
Oh Christ. "Jonas," Luz says. "C'mon, man. Don't."
Joe ignores him, poking Nixon in the chest. Crap. "What do you think you're doing, messing around with my brother?"
Nixon's face goes carefully blank. "I don't know what you mean," he says, neutral but with a hint of fear behind the smooth lie. It's the tone of someone used to hiding, to worrying about court-martials -- Luz has heard himself sound that exact same way.
Joe's not about to drop it, though. "The hell you don't," he says. "I don't know what you think you're doing, but you keep your dirty perv hands off him."
"Joe," Luz says, getting alarmed. Christ, Nixon is an officer.
Captain Nixon's starting to get mad. "Oh yeah?" he says. "Or what?" He's taller than Joe, and broader. He draws himself up to his full height.
Joe's furious, his jaw clenched, clearly too furious to think about what he's doing. The idiot. "Look," Joe gets out. "I don't know what you did to him to make him... whatever. But Nick is a kid, all right? You can't just use him to do whatever you want."
"Look, pal," Nixon says, eyes flashing, stepping forward so he and Joe are nose-to-nose. God, Joe's going to get court-martialed for insubordination, what is wrong with him? "I don't know what you've been imagining." Nixon's talking in a low, tight, controlled voice and it's terrifying. "But that innocent kid brother of yours? I haven't done anything to him he didn't want. That he didn't beg me for."
Oh Jesus. Joe sucks in a breath like a sob and his arm actually goes up to punch Nixon, but Luz grabs his wrist before he can do anything that monumentally stupid, pulling Joe away.
"That is not fucking true!" Joe's saying as Luz pulls him off, down the road, away from Nixon. There's no point in Joe continuing this conversation, obviously. And his voice has that note of hysteria to it that means he knows what Nixon said is right, but he desperately wishes it weren't.
"Joe," Luz says, pushing him to keep walking, along the bend of the road, so they're starting to get out of sight of Nixon, who's still watching them without much expression.
"That fucker," Joe's saying. "I'll kill him. He's lucky I didn't kill him."
"Yeah," Luz says, trying to be soothing. "I know." They're out of sight now, alone on the stretch of road.
"Seriously," Joe says, and makes a sharp movement like he's going to go back.
Luz puts his hands on Joe's chest to stop him, pushing him until they're off to the side of the road, in a grove of trees. He backs Joe up against one, Joe still ranting furiously. "Nick didn't -- Nick wouldn't --"
"Shh," Luz says. "I know."
"That pervert better watch his back," Joe's saying. Luz has him pinned against the tree, holding him there with his hands on Joe's chest, but even so, Joe doesn't really show any signs of shutting up.
"Joe," Luz says, as Joe keeps talking furiously. "Joe." But Joe's still sort of craning to look around the bend of the road, sputtering about how Nick wouldn't do any of that if somebody didn't make him, and finally Luz figures that kissing him is the only way to get him to cool it.
"Shh," Luz says, kissing him in the middle of a word.
"But--" Joe goes to keep talking, even against Luz's mouth.
"Shh," Luz says again, and kisses him harder. After a long moment Joe finally gives into it, quieting and kissing Luz back, teeth scraping against Luz's lower lip.
Luz kisses Joe again and again, light kisses as Joe slowly calms down, going still under Luz's hands. Luz can still feel Joe's heart pounding rapidly inside his chest.
"Okay," Luz says finally, pulling back. "Okay." He leaves his hands on Joe's chest.
"I'm really upset, George," Joe says very quietly, more sad than angry now.
"I know," Luz says. He looks at Joe for a minute, Joe's big dark eyes. "But don't punch an officer, okay? Then you'd get court-martialed and sent home, and I'd be upset."
Joe manages a small smile. "Yeah," he says.
"Yeah," Luz says, and kisses him once more for good measure. Thinks about what Joe maybe said to him, days before. Luz is pretty sure he loves him too. He's been thinking about it all week.
**
That night, Joe crawls into bed with him without asking, at the start of the night instead of the middle, sneaking into the room all quietly without anyone else noticing. "Nick's gone again," he says, staring up at the ceiling instead of looking at Luz. "Nothing I do helps. I might as well just save the energy."
Yeah, Luz half wants to say that he's pretty right there, that he really should save the energy, but Joe sounds so defeated, Luz doesn't want to make it worse. Instead he presses a kiss against Joe's shoulder, thinks about how he loves him. Thinks about how he wants to tell him, see if Joe will say it back again, now when Luz is listening.
Joe's half-sprawled over Luz's body, and Luz likes his weight on top of him. He hooks his leg around the back of Joe's, just to hold him there.
"The light's in my eyes," Joe says, squinting in the moonlight coming in the window and shifting crankily on top of Luz.
Luz just laughs at him. "It's just the moon. Relax," he says, and Joe shifts again. Luz presses his face into Joe's shoulder, thinks about how he wants to say it.
Against his brain's better judgment, his mouth mutters, "I love you," into Joe's skin.
It's kind of muffled, and Luz can't see Joe's face, so he's kind of hoping Joe didn't hear. But Joe goes very still on top of him, stops his fidgeting. It feels like the longest pause in the world, the long silence after. Luz closes his eyes, presses his face farther into Joe's shoulder and sort of hopes that the ground will somehow swallow him up. Oh God, Joe didn't say it after all. God, Luz is an idiot.
But then, finally, finally, Joe says, very softly, "Really?" Like... like it's so good he can hardly believe it, and Luz can't quite catch his breath. He just nods against Joe's shoulder. When he finally looks up at him again, Joe's eyes are so, so wide and bright it's unbelievable.
Joe pulls Luz's face up to kiss him and he says, "Me too, me too," really quietly, and then they're kissing, Joe rolling further on top of him, pressing him down against the bed.
They kiss and they kiss, and then Joe moves to kiss his neck, muttering, "Me too," again, and it's all quiet in the dark, them fumbling with each other, the only noise the sound of their breathing, and the moon is pale on Joe's cheekbones, his shoulders. "Me too," he says again, and he's touching Luz, and Luz feels so deeply, quietly happy, like he just wants to close his eyes and remember every second of it, how Joe's hands feel, his breath hot on Luz's cheek, his hips pressed against Luz's, his dogtags warm from his body, jingling together as they move.
"Me too," Joe says one more time, and Luz stores it up deep in his chest, thinks he's happy.
**
NICK STOP MOMS WORRIED STOP WRITE HOME YOU CHUCKLEHEADS STOP LOVE K2
**
The house where Captain Nixon is quartered is quiet when Nick arrives in the afternoon, after he's relieved from manning the northmost checkpoint out of town. Nick's not even sure Nixon's there, but when he knocks and calls out, "Hello?" Nix yells, "In here!" from the back of the house. Nick smiles, tucking his helmet under his arm, and walks back to the bedroom.
Nix is at the table in the corner, hunched over a typewriter. The sun coming through the window catches the translucent corner of the paper he's typing on, making it look tissue-thin, and Nix is typing laboriously with only his index fingers, one letter at a time. There's a half-empty glass next to his right hand, whiskey dark in the shadow cast by the typewriter, and he's got two days worth of stubble, a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, ash an inch thick at the end of it.
"Hi," Nick says, trying not to smile too big, the way he always kind of has to stop himself when he's around Nixon.
Nix glances over at him and manages a half-smile, but there's a reserve in his expression, a sort of tired sadness. "Ah," he says, wry. He extinguishes the cigarette in a saucer, long fingers grinding it out. "The kid comes to the house of perversions."
Nick laughs. "What?"
But Nix doesn't smile. Instead he's turned back to the typewriter, hitting a few keys with some force. Nick wonders if Nix wants him to get lost. He hopes not.
Nick watches him for a second, the bang of the mechanics, the way Nix has to punch hard at the keys. "What are you typing?" Nick asks finally, stepping a little farther into the room and setting his helmet down on the dresser. He already wishes he was kissing Nix, but he always kind of wishes that. It's been a few days.
Nix sighs, bangs at the R key. "Writing letters home to the parents of dead kids," he says. Nick notices suddenly that the circles under his eyes are pretty dark, that Nix doesn't look so good. "You know, your son was heroically blown up inside a plane before he fired a single heroic shot. Goddamn bullshit letters home."
"Oh," Nick says. He doesn't quite know what to say to that. "Why do you have to write those?"
Nix downs the rest of the whiskey in his glass, and then starts to refill it from the bottle of Vat 69 on the corner of the desk. "Made the mistake of making it out of the plane," he says.
Nick watches him for a second as he drinks some more whiskey, feeling unsettled. When Nix goes to put the glass down again, Nick reaches over and takes it out of his hand, their fingers brushing. Nix's eyes flick up to his face, and Nick puts his mouth where Nix's had been on the glass, taking a long drink. He's a lot better at drinking whiskey than he was the first time Nix gave him any -- he's had a lot of practice since then, hanging around Nix so much. He's aware of Nixon watching him swallow, the movement of his mouth and throat, and when he lowers the glass, Nix's eyes are dark. He seems to have to force himself to look away.
"Well," Nick says. "I'm glad you made it out."
Nixon clears his throat, like he feels a little uncomfortable. "Yeah," he says, staring back at the paper he's typing on, the black letters crawling mechanized across it. "Well."
Nick takes another sip of whiskey, and Nixon stares at the paper for another long moment before he flicks it with his finger. "I mean," Nix says, and his voice is rough. "What would your parents want to hear if you got killed before you even got out of the goddamn plane? Your sixteen-year-old son's dead, and for what?"
Nick freezes -- what did he just say?
When he gets up the nerve to look at Nix, Nix is looking at him like the jig is up. "I mean, you are sixteen, right?"
God, he's not supposed to know that. No one's supposed to know that, but especially not Nix. Nick feels panicked, not sure what to say. Finally he blurts out, "Who told you?" Stupid.
Nixon nods slowly at the implied confirmation, still watching Nick with those dark eyes. "Winters," he says.
"Oh," Nick says. Crap. Nix just... wasn't supposed to know that. He's looking at Nick like Nick's a kid, a baby -- like it matters to him that Nick's sixteen, like he regrets ever doing anything with Nick. This is terrible. "Um, how long have you known?"
Nixon runs a hand over his face, then starts to light another cigarette. "A while," he mutters. "Long enough to know better."
Great. Nick just -- he's not going to be able to deal with it if Nixon tries to break this off. He puts out a tentative hand and rests it on Nix's shoulder, feels the heat of Nix's skin through his shirt, feels the planes of muscle and bone, the rise and fall of his breathing.
Nixon exhales smoke and laughs a little, that laugh like he hates himself. "Oh, and your brother thinks I'm corrupting you, by the way."
"What?" Nick says. Oh God, fuck, when did he talk to Joe? And what on earth did Joe say to him? Nick feels a little frantic, just imagining the horrible things Joe might've said.
"Come on, sport," Nix says, putting the cigarette back between his lips and inhaling. "He's got a point."
"No, he doesn't," Nick says.
Nixon blinks, looking at him. After a second, he pointedly looks down at Nick's hand on his shoulder and says, "He doesn't, huh."
Nick just -- he'll deal with Joe later, but he doesn't like how dark Nixon looks, how it's scaring him a little bit. He can't think how to talk Nix out of thinking that he's corrupting Nick, so he takes the cigarette out of Nix's mouth, puts it out, then leans down and kisses him instead.
When Nick pulls back, Nixon says, "You're not really making your case here, champ."
Nick just shrugs. "So?" he says, and kisses him again, the warm ashy taste of Nix's mouth, the width of his shoulders under Nick's hands. After a second Nix sighs and kisses him back, opening his mouth.
When Nick goes to kiss his jawline, starting to move into the chair with him, Nixon says, "You're killing me, kid." But he shifts, leaning back so Nick can fit between him and the table, putting his arm around Nick to hold onto him, so it's not exactly like he's protesting very hard.
"My brother's an idiot," Nick says into his skin.
Nix doesn't say anything to that, but he gets his hand under Nick's shirt, hot against Nick's skin, and Nick feels better already, like things are going to be all right, the way he always feels when Nix is touching him. Yeah, things are going to be all right.
**
Like usual, the battalion ships out on almost no notice, everyone milling around the square in Sturzelberg getting set to go. Nick pushes through the crowds, looking to see if he can find Captain Nixon before he has to go get in the convoy. He misses him a little bit already, doesn't know how easy it'll be to see him wherever they're going next.
But when he comes up behind Nixon, Nix is yelling something at Lip and Major Winters about a dog, throwing his helmet and Nick's never seen him lose his cool like that. Nick hesitates, standing behind them, and then Lipton's disappearing, and Winters is saying something to Nix, touching his shoulder before he vanishes into the crowd to make sure the supplies are in order. After he's gone Nix turns around and sees Nick standing there.
"Oh," Nix says. He still looks angry, distracted, and his eyes slide right past Nick, not quite looking at him. "Hi."
"Are you okay?" Nick asks.
Nix is scowling, picking his helmet back up like it's personally offended him. "Not really," he says, letting out an irritated puff of air. After a pause, when Nick keeps looking at him, he says, "My wife's divorcing me."
Nick feels himself go very, very still. His -- his what? "Your wi-- you're married?" Nick's voice sounds strange, sort of strangled. Nix is married? Since when is he married?
Nix glances at him then, makes a sort of rueful face over the frown. "Yeah, kid," he says, and he's softened a little bit, but he isn't.... Well. He's talking in this matter-of-fact tone, like he's not going to beat around the bush, like he doesn't have time for this -- like he's fed up with everything, including Nick. "Why, what'd you think?"
Well, he didn't think that Nix was married. How was he supposed to know that? Nick opens his mouth to say something, but then he realizes he doesn't know what he'd say, and he shuts it again. There are people milling all around them anyway, so it's not like they can really talk about it, but why didn't Nix tell him?
When Nick just stands there, gaping at him, Nix seems to lose interest in the conversation. He runs a hand through his hair. "Where'd Winters go?" he mutters, and then he stalks off into the crowd, leaving Nick standing there like an idiot, feeling abandoned.
Nix has been married this whole time. And of course Nix wants to see Winters, not Nick. Nick's just some dumb kid who thought they were, God, like, in love or something. Like some kind of moron, when all this time Nix has had a wife back home, when Nick doesn't even matter to him as much as Winters does. But why would Nix want to talk to Nick about his divorce? He didn't even care enough to tell Nick he had a wife in the first place.
Nick goes to find the truck he's supposed to ride in in the convoy, swinging himself up into the bed and slumping down on one of the benches. Joe and Luz are across from him, looking cheerful, sitting shoulder to shoulder. Luz is tossing a baseball into the glove he's holding, and Joe keeps trying to snatch it from him. Luz keeps getting it away, though, and they're both laughing at their dumb game.
Nick crosses his arms over his chest and slumps low, next to Webster, who's talking cheerfully about Bavaria. Yeah, fascinating stuff. National Socialism. Guerilla war. Sure.
When the convoy finally starts traveling, the guys all start singing this hell-of-a-way-to-die song. After awhile Nick joins in half-heartedly, just because Joe keeps looking at him and he figures it'd look weird if he wasn't singing at all. He wonders what Nix is doing right now, if he's still all upset because his stupid wife is divorcing him. But no, who cares if he is? Nick doesn't care. It's not like he's taking the whole thing seriously either.
It's just curiosity that's making him wonder if he can see Nixon's jeep from here. That's all. Despite himself, Nick cranes his head out the side of the truck, looking for it. "Glory, glory," Nick joins in, as the front of the convoy starts to go around a curve in the road, and Nick thinks maybe he can see Nixon's jeep now that there's that curve, now that those jeeps are at an angle from him. Nixon's riding in one with Winters. Of course.
Across from Nick, Joe and Luz are singing their hearts out, cracking up laughing when they mix up the words, and Joe's clearly having the time of his life. For a second Nick almost hates him. Joe keeps trying to catch Nick's eye, and Nick knows that he's wanting him to sing the harmonies the way they always used to, but Nick's not in the mood. He crosses his arms tighter and looks away from Joe. The truck's bumping along the road, so Nick keeps getting jostled around uncomfortably.
Joe's flailing around like a lunatic as he sings, kicking and punching on the beat, and he keeps accidentally kicking Nick in the leg when he does. It's right where Nick caught that shrapnel at Bastogne, and every time Nick feels that little throb of pain when Joe's foot connects with the scar tissue, he hates Joe a little more. Not that Joe's doing it on purpose -- everyone's gotten hit so much you can't really avoid the wounds anymore. And Nick could shift so his leg's not right in Joe's range, but he doesn't, just leaves it there. The growing ache in his leg is just something to think about that isn't Nixon's wife. He wonders if she's pretty. He needs a drink.
**
The day they find that death camp is a bad day. It's the smell that gets to Nick the most, decay and shit and death, and it's the smell that follows them back to the town, lodged in his nostrils somehow like he can't leave it behind. Everyone's subdued, even Joe and Luz, and Liebgott's eyes are red.
Nick can't settle. Back in their billet, Joe sits next to Luz, their shoulders wedged together. They're taking turns trying to throw pebbles into Joe's helmet, seeing who can make the most shots. Captain Nixon is married, and Joe's always got Luz to be his best friend, and for a second Nick hates him again, how his elbow is nudging Luz so easily, taking it all for granted. How he doesn't need Nick anymore.
Luckily Liebgott and Webster are drinking in the other room, straight out of the bottles the Germans had left behind in the house, and they don't mind when Nick joins them. He feels like he still reeks of the camp -- it makes him want to scrub his skin off, but after a few drinks it feels like it matters less, everything muted by the alcohol. Yeah, drinking's okay. He doesn't know why it took him so long to start.
Nixon is married, and he never told Nick, and earlier he acted like Nick didn't even matter, and Nick spent the afternoon putting walking skeletons back into a death camp and only being as blazing drunk as he is is keeping him from getting hysterical, easing the pressure behind his eyes.
When Nick finishes the bottle of whiskey they've been passing around, he staggers to his feet, steadying himself on a bureau. "Where're you going?" Web, who's less drunk than Nick and Liebgott, asks.
"I dunno," Nick lies. "Out."
He knows where Nixon's quartered and makes his way there through the dark streets, pounding on the door when he arrives. Even having walked out through all that fresh air, the smell of death has followed Nick, and he pounds harder, smelling it. He just... he'll feel better if Nixon's touching him. He always feels better when he is, and it was a really bad day, and Nixon's married, and. He just needs to talk to him. Nick pounds so hard on the door his hand hurts.
"All right, all right," he hears from inside the house, coming toward the door. Nix opens the door mid-pound, so Nick's fist is still in the air.
When he sees Nick, Nix gets a look on his face that Nick can't quite read. "Jonas," he says. His shoulders slump a little bit, and he's still got those dark circles under his eyes, and the look on his face is like he's too tired to even work up the energy to get annoyed at Nick. If Nick were less upset, he'd be worried about him, how bad he looks.
"Can I come in?" Nick says, a little aggressively. Nix should've told him he was married, is the thing.
For a second Nixon looks like he's going to tell Nick no, but then he shrugs listlessly and says, "I guess." He turns around and heads back down the hallway again, not looking to see if Nick's following him, but leaves the door open like an invitation. Nick follows him unsteadily, closing the door behind him.
When he gets to the living room, Nix is sprawled all loose-limbed on a sofa, bottle of whiskey already in his hand. Nick stops in the doorway, hovering.
When neither of them say anything for a minute, Nix finally says, "Hell of a day, huh, Jonas?" He takes a swig from the bottle he's holding.
Nick nods a little, folding his arms over his chest. He means to be casual, say something about the camp, the prisoners, what the Nazis have been doing this whole time, but instead he blurts out, "Why didn't you tell me you were married?"
Nixon gets a sort of dark, tired look on his face, that one that he's had way too often lately, and stares somewhere above Nick's head. He shrugs. "It didn't seem relevant."
"Didn't seem relevant?" Nick says, sounding as disbelieving as he feels. Just, what the fuck?
Nix shrugs that little tired shrug, giving Nick a long measuring look as he does. "You drunk, Jonas?" he says.
"Yeah, are you?" Nick shoots back.
Nixon nods slowly, still giving Nick that measuring look. "Almost always," he says. "You didn't use to drink, though."
Nick shrugs. He doesn't really know what this has to do with anything. "I'm older now," he says.
"Yeah," Nixon says, going back to looking over Nick's head. He sighs. "I guess we all are."
Nick shifts his weight from one foot to the other, still feeling like he'd like to yell at Nixon but not knowing what to say. Finally he just mutters, "You should've told me you were married."
Nix does look annoyed at that, finally -- he runs a hand through his hair. "C'mon, sport, what'd you think?" he says, sounding fed up. "That we were going to live happily ever after? Go home and make babies? Get real."
And it's not that he sounds mad exactly. Just exasperated, like Nick is a stupid kid wasting his time. And... what had Nick thought? God, maybe he is a stupid kid -- he just. He hadn't thought Nix was married, is all.
"Your brother was probably right," Nix says. His expression's gone really dark, like he's at the end of his rope, like everything's catching up with him and this is the last straw. "This was a big mistake."
Nick feels himself start to crumble at that. Just -- Nix is married, and Nick's just some dumb kid he was fooling around with, not even important enough to tell anything to, and what's Nick been thinking?
"Yeah," Nick says, and dammit, his voice is wobbling. "Yeah, I guess so." He turns to leave before he completely falls apart, and Nix doesn't call after him.
As he's stumbling out the front door, he nearly runs into Major Winters, on his way in to see Nix. Winters catches his elbow, steadying Nick so he doesn't fall over.
"Jonas?" he says, sounding concerned. "You all right?"
"Yeah," Nick chokes out. "Thanks." And he's pulling away, heading back towards his own billet. Of course Winters is on his way in -- he's Nix's best friend, the one Nix really cares about. He's not some dumb kid taking things too seriously.
Nick needs another drink.
**
By the time Nick makes it back to his own platoon, he's worked himself up into a pretty good rage at Joe. Because Joe yelled at Nixon, and told him he was corrupting Nick, and Nixon's been in this weird mood ever since, and just -- what does Joe think he's doing, saying whatever he said to Captain Nixon? How is it any of his business, anyway? Why is he trying to ruin Nick's life?
Joe and Luz are sitting basically where Nick left them, on the floor of the master bedroom with their backs against the bed frame. They look up when Nick comes in, but both still look pretty subdued. Nick can still smell the camp from earlier, still feels that helpless hopelessness that anything like that could exist. It had been feeling like the war was almost over, like maybe they were getting towards the end of horrible things, but now they're all back in it again, and maybe the war's never actually going to end, and it's hard to imagine going home after that camp, hard to imagine that things will ever really be okay.
"Hey, Joe," Nick says, voice shaking a little. "Can I talk to you?"
"Uh, sure," Joe says. It's weird -- it feels like they've barely talked lately. Luz always seems to be around these days.
Nick means for the two of them to go outside, but Luz gets up instead. "Later, Joe," he says as he leaves, and then it's just Joe and Nick, alone in the heavy dark furnishings of the German house. Strange, how weird it feels for the two of them to be alone. With him standing up and Joe still sitting on the floor it's an odd dynamic, Nick towering over Joe like that.
"What," Nick starts, feeling how angry he is, "exactly did you say to Captain Nixon about me?"
Joe's face immediately shuts down, wary. "What do you mean?" he says, like he's pretending he doesn't know what Nick's talking about.
Nick would kind of like to hit him. "God, Joe, c'mon," he says. "You promised me you wouldn't say anything. You promised."
Joe crosses his arms over his chest. "No, I didn't," he says. "I promised I wouldn't tell anyone. I never promised I wouldn't tell that perv to keep his hands off you."
Oh, holy God, that's even worse than Nick thought. Nick wants to die of mortification thinking about Joe saying that to Nix. "Joe!" he says. "What -- why would you -- oh my God, Joe, what's the matter with you?"
"What's the matter with me?" Joe says. He starts to stand up. "Don't you mean, what's the matter with him? You're sixteen, okay? He's not supposed to be -- I'm your big brother, and he's taking advantage of you, and --"
"How is it any of your business?" Nick talks over him. "God, you're so embarrassing. I can take care of myself, okay?"
"Well, obviously not," Joe says, and before Nick knows what he's doing, Nick's shoving Joe, hard, so he staggers back against the bed. Joe looks shocked, and kind of horrified, and Nick's just really pretty drunk right now. For a second they stare at each other, Joe sprawled back where he landed, Nick breathing hard.
"Nick," Joe says finally, staring at Nick like he barely recognizes him. He sounds so worried -- suddenly Nick almost wants to cry. "What's going on with you? Why won't you talk to me?" Joe sounds like he might be on the verge of tears himself.
Nick's breaths are coming ragged. "I talk to you," he mutters, but he can't quite look Joe in the eye, and he just feels so helpless, like everything's spiraled out of his control. Nixon doesn't care about him at all, and he just shoved his brother, and he can't forget all those bodies from earlier in the day, and even if he manages to make it home, he's never going to be the same as before. He feels like he barely recognizes the kid he used to be, who thought it'd be a good idea to quit high school and go lie about his age to join up.
Joe stands back up slowly and puts his hands on Nick's shoulders. "Nick," he says. "You're drinking all the time, and you're sad, and I just -- I just want you to be okay. Are you okay?"
By now Nick's trying desperately not to cry, biting the inside of his cheek. He shakes his head, putting his hands up to clutch at Joe's shirt, and then leans his forehead against Joe's shoulder, breath coming ragged. And Joe's holding onto him, not saying anything else about pervs or Captain Nixon or anything, just holding onto Nick the way he used to do when Nick was a little kid. "Hey," Joe says, and rubs Nick's back, and Nick holds onto him, because nothing's okay.
That night Nick sleeps on the floor of the house with Joe next to him, all pressed up against his side, the way they always used to. Strangely, he sleeps better than he has in awhile.
**
:: on to part 6 ::