"Between the Dust and the Debris" by noxnoctisanima for vulpesvortex
Title: Between the Dust and the Debris
Author: Noxnoctisanima
Pairing/character: Speirs/Lipton
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine. No offence or liability intended
Summary: Carwood is enjoying the warmth.
Notes/Warnings: Written for Fic For Victory for vulpesvortex for the prompt “something with cigarettes”.
Carwood leant back against the sun warmed stone. Even so many months after Bastogne he still had the irrational feeling that all of this warmth and comfort would disappear. He could still feel the cold deep in his bones, he thought maybe it would always be there waiting for a cold snap, to come rushing back with all the ache and horror. The horror too is so much easier to forget when the sun is warm on his face, but at night when he feels the touch of the chill it comes hunting him. Carwood is too loyal, too much of a good soldier to ever admit who really lead Easy in that forest but he was everywhere, saw each frostbitten limb, each gaping, bleeding wound and he can never forget what he has seen.
There are footsteps on stone and Carwood turns, startled, their war may effectively be over but he cannot forget the reflexes worn deep within himself. Captain Speirs is standing between him and the sun, casting a long shadow across his face. Carwood plants his hands on either side of him and starts to push himself up but Speirs waves him off.
“Keep your seat second Lieutenant.”
He leans against the wall next to Carwood and tips his head back, closing his eyes and soaking in the warmth. Carwood sometimes forgets that Speirs was in Bastogne with them, that he froze as much as they did.
Speirs stands comfortably silent and Carwood can’t help but watch the way his eyelashes lie washed out on his cheeks. The silence is comfortable, should be comfortable, but Carwood can’t help but keep watching him, the nervous twitching of a teenage girl wondering if her date is going to put his arm around her and the silence stretches.
Carwood didn’t mean to do this, shouldn’t have been this, he’d had a girl at home, had enjoyed being with her. He wasn’t some queer but he just couldn’t help but…want.
Speirs opens his eyes slowly, blinking at the sunlight and Carwood flinches his eyes away, terrified of being caught.
He taps out a cigarette, and Carwood determinedly does not watch him catch it between his lips, does not watch the way his eyelids flutter as he takes the first drag, does not watch the way it dangles from his loose fingers. He is so determined not to watch that the hand appearing in front of his face makes him jump.
Speirs is dangling a cigarette in front of his face, waiting for him to take it. Carwood shakes himself out of his distraction feeling perverted and ridiculous and plucks the cigarette out of his fingers. He lights it with the match Speirs hands him, eyes closing slightly as he pulls in the first hit of burning smoke. He’d never done this back in the states, just one more thing to add to the list of things he wasn’t before this war.
It takes a couple of drags for it to feel awkward, sitting on the ground while Speirs’ legs stretch up beside him. He starts to steal himself to leave his languor behind and stand when Speirs slides down the wall in one long filthy movement. He doesn’t even glance over, as though such movement is completely normal and not at all something to comment on.
They sit side by side for long minutes watching trails of smoke float into the sky until their cigarettes begin to burn dangerously close to the butt and Speirs fishes out his pack again. He wedges two between his lips, lighting them with a heavy pull of breath and then hands one over to Carwood.
Carwood flinches a little in taking it and absolutely does not touch his tongue to the cigarette to see if he can taste Speirs.
He can’t. All he tastes is damp paper and tobacco and he is frighteningly disappointed.
“What are you doing after the war second lieutenant?” Speirs’ voice is soft and yet the unexpected sound in their quiet makes Carwood jump. Speirs is watching him, his eyes deep and watchful.
“Uh…Returning home sir, my mother will need help running the boarding house.” He is blushing a little under Speirs’ gaze. “What about you sir, you heading back home?”
Speirs’ mouth quirks and Carwood gets the feeling that it isn’t a happy twinge.
“Don’t really have a home to go to second lieutenant. I might stay in the army or maybe I’ll come visit Huntington.” He is staring straight ahead and something in Carwood lurches, something that feels frighteningly like hope.
“You’d be welcome sir, Huntington’s a nice town.” Carwood is terrified of that sentence, it feels like he’s shouting his dirty secrets from the rooftop even as he logically realises that to anyone else it’s just polite conversation.
But maybe Speirs isn’t everyone else. He turns to look at Carwood and his eyes are dark and questioning.
Carwood freezes, caught, and watches as Speirs stubs out his cigarette on the ground next to him. He’s more hesitant than Carwood has ever seen him and Carwood realises with a jolt that he’s just as frightened as he is.
Carwood shudders when Speirs hand comes up to tentatively cup his face, thumb resting softly on his cheek.
“I’d like to visit if you wouldn’t mind.”
Neither of them has said anything specific, there’s been no explicit question but it’s utterly obvious what is happening and it’d up to Carwood to make the choice.
He can’t say it, he’s not there yet, so he answers in a way that will leave nothing to chance.
He deliberately stubs out his cigarette and shifts until he is leaning into Speirs’s palm. He can’t believe what he’s about to do but he really doesn’t want to stop.
Touching his mouth to Speirs is strange, his mouth is rougher than he’s used to, both his chapped lips and the way he pushes up into Carwood.
The hand that was on his cheek is now gripping the back of his neck, dragging him forward as Spiers sighs relief into the kiss.
It’s better than Carwood had ever expected, better than he’d ever allowed himself to hope for. Speirs is strong and muscular, the skin Carwood can reach is hot and addictive and Speirs isn’t just allowing him to touch, he’s demanding it.
They pull back reluctantly, aware that as out of the way as their little piece of warmth is, it is not truly private and having someone catch them would be dangerous. They sit back side by side, maybe a little closer than is appropriate and Speirs lights them a new cigarette, just one and they share it back and forth as they lean against the wall.
“What is Huntington like?” Speirs’s voice has lost some of its harshness and what Carwood can now identify as anxiety.
Carwood smiles at him and hands back the cigarette.
“You’ll just have to visit and find out.”
Author: Noxnoctisanima
Pairing/character: Speirs/Lipton
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine. No offence or liability intended
Summary: Carwood is enjoying the warmth.
Notes/Warnings: Written for Fic For Victory for vulpesvortex for the prompt “something with cigarettes”.
Carwood leant back against the sun warmed stone. Even so many months after Bastogne he still had the irrational feeling that all of this warmth and comfort would disappear. He could still feel the cold deep in his bones, he thought maybe it would always be there waiting for a cold snap, to come rushing back with all the ache and horror. The horror too is so much easier to forget when the sun is warm on his face, but at night when he feels the touch of the chill it comes hunting him. Carwood is too loyal, too much of a good soldier to ever admit who really lead Easy in that forest but he was everywhere, saw each frostbitten limb, each gaping, bleeding wound and he can never forget what he has seen.
There are footsteps on stone and Carwood turns, startled, their war may effectively be over but he cannot forget the reflexes worn deep within himself. Captain Speirs is standing between him and the sun, casting a long shadow across his face. Carwood plants his hands on either side of him and starts to push himself up but Speirs waves him off.
“Keep your seat second Lieutenant.”
He leans against the wall next to Carwood and tips his head back, closing his eyes and soaking in the warmth. Carwood sometimes forgets that Speirs was in Bastogne with them, that he froze as much as they did.
Speirs stands comfortably silent and Carwood can’t help but watch the way his eyelashes lie washed out on his cheeks. The silence is comfortable, should be comfortable, but Carwood can’t help but keep watching him, the nervous twitching of a teenage girl wondering if her date is going to put his arm around her and the silence stretches.
Carwood didn’t mean to do this, shouldn’t have been this, he’d had a girl at home, had enjoyed being with her. He wasn’t some queer but he just couldn’t help but…want.
Speirs opens his eyes slowly, blinking at the sunlight and Carwood flinches his eyes away, terrified of being caught.
He taps out a cigarette, and Carwood determinedly does not watch him catch it between his lips, does not watch the way his eyelids flutter as he takes the first drag, does not watch the way it dangles from his loose fingers. He is so determined not to watch that the hand appearing in front of his face makes him jump.
Speirs is dangling a cigarette in front of his face, waiting for him to take it. Carwood shakes himself out of his distraction feeling perverted and ridiculous and plucks the cigarette out of his fingers. He lights it with the match Speirs hands him, eyes closing slightly as he pulls in the first hit of burning smoke. He’d never done this back in the states, just one more thing to add to the list of things he wasn’t before this war.
It takes a couple of drags for it to feel awkward, sitting on the ground while Speirs’ legs stretch up beside him. He starts to steal himself to leave his languor behind and stand when Speirs slides down the wall in one long filthy movement. He doesn’t even glance over, as though such movement is completely normal and not at all something to comment on.
They sit side by side for long minutes watching trails of smoke float into the sky until their cigarettes begin to burn dangerously close to the butt and Speirs fishes out his pack again. He wedges two between his lips, lighting them with a heavy pull of breath and then hands one over to Carwood.
Carwood flinches a little in taking it and absolutely does not touch his tongue to the cigarette to see if he can taste Speirs.
He can’t. All he tastes is damp paper and tobacco and he is frighteningly disappointed.
“What are you doing after the war second lieutenant?” Speirs’ voice is soft and yet the unexpected sound in their quiet makes Carwood jump. Speirs is watching him, his eyes deep and watchful.
“Uh…Returning home sir, my mother will need help running the boarding house.” He is blushing a little under Speirs’ gaze. “What about you sir, you heading back home?”
Speirs’ mouth quirks and Carwood gets the feeling that it isn’t a happy twinge.
“Don’t really have a home to go to second lieutenant. I might stay in the army or maybe I’ll come visit Huntington.” He is staring straight ahead and something in Carwood lurches, something that feels frighteningly like hope.
“You’d be welcome sir, Huntington’s a nice town.” Carwood is terrified of that sentence, it feels like he’s shouting his dirty secrets from the rooftop even as he logically realises that to anyone else it’s just polite conversation.
But maybe Speirs isn’t everyone else. He turns to look at Carwood and his eyes are dark and questioning.
Carwood freezes, caught, and watches as Speirs stubs out his cigarette on the ground next to him. He’s more hesitant than Carwood has ever seen him and Carwood realises with a jolt that he’s just as frightened as he is.
Carwood shudders when Speirs hand comes up to tentatively cup his face, thumb resting softly on his cheek.
“I’d like to visit if you wouldn’t mind.”
Neither of them has said anything specific, there’s been no explicit question but it’s utterly obvious what is happening and it’d up to Carwood to make the choice.
He can’t say it, he’s not there yet, so he answers in a way that will leave nothing to chance.
He deliberately stubs out his cigarette and shifts until he is leaning into Speirs’s palm. He can’t believe what he’s about to do but he really doesn’t want to stop.
Touching his mouth to Speirs is strange, his mouth is rougher than he’s used to, both his chapped lips and the way he pushes up into Carwood.
The hand that was on his cheek is now gripping the back of his neck, dragging him forward as Spiers sighs relief into the kiss.
It’s better than Carwood had ever expected, better than he’d ever allowed himself to hope for. Speirs is strong and muscular, the skin Carwood can reach is hot and addictive and Speirs isn’t just allowing him to touch, he’s demanding it.
They pull back reluctantly, aware that as out of the way as their little piece of warmth is, it is not truly private and having someone catch them would be dangerous. They sit back side by side, maybe a little closer than is appropriate and Speirs lights them a new cigarette, just one and they share it back and forth as they lean against the wall.
“What is Huntington like?” Speirs’s voice has lost some of its harshness and what Carwood can now identify as anxiety.
Carwood smiles at him and hands back the cigarette.
“You’ll just have to visit and find out.”