Tell Me I'm a Mess (Web/Lieb)
Tell Me I'm a Mess
takes place in Haguenau towards the end of 'The Last Patrol';
Lieb/Web;
NC17;
1538 words.
See, this was his problem. He hadn’t really noticed Web until he wasn’t there anymore.
Not that Liebgott put any stock in that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ bullshit.
It was just that he found himself listening for an opportunity to make some crack about Harvard or to hear someone debating goddamn literature or something, but it was all quite on the intellectual front.
It was all Bastogne’s fault, really.
Fuck Bastogne.
Hiding in a hole you dug with a broken shovel while slowly freezing to death, half hoping the Krauts would kill you instead- In between fearing for your life and trying to find warm food, there wasn’t much else to do but think.
You get so far inside your own head it’s hard to climb back out sometimes.
He couldn’t stand being around the other guys for very long anyway. Fuck him sideways but he was not a goddamn cuddler.
“No offense, boys.” He’d say.
“Fine, freeze your ass off Lieb. See if we care.”
Plus, he wanted to avoid Babe Heffron at all costs. The kid was fucking smiling all the time. Here they were, stuck in the middle of a frozen wasteland surrounded by Krauts and this kid was giggling and following Doc Roe around like they are at some tropical paradise on vacation. George Luz couldn’t even make Liebgott laugh at this point.
Too bad no one wanted to listen to him bitch.
And so what if he thought about David fucking Webster?
Of course he’d be pissed at the guys that weren’t there, helping Easy hold the line.
Of course he’d wonder how long it took to get a hurt leg patched up.
Of course he’d want to know how likely an infection was.
Oh, but Liebgott was going to have to give Web a piece of his mind when he saw him again.
This whole damn thing was his fault. The waiting, the not knowing, the dead-man-walking feeling at every step - Goddamnit, but Liebgott wanted to live. He wanted to see Webster again. And that made Bastogne ten times more torturous.
In Haguenau, Liebgott watched Webster make his way to their truck. He had what he wanted to say all worked out in his head.
He was satisfied with Web’s crushed expression. The man still had all his emotions intact, and the right amount of naivety to be able to show them.
And Liebgott was still alive.
~~~
Webster looked fit and healthy and rested up. He looked like he should have been in some picture, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks like that. Hell, he looked good.
Liebgott wasn’t a fucking stalker, okay. But the guy always ended up in his vicinity. Maybe being in the same platoon had something to do with that. But Webster was busy with his new best friend, Lt. Jones.
It’s not like Liebgott had much to say to him anyway.
Or maybe he just had too much to say to be able to know where to start.
The patrol shook Liebgott out of his silence.
He sat there, ready to blow that Kraut house to hell.
Blow the whistle.
But it wasn’t the Krauts he was thinking about.
Blow the whistle.
Webster had gotten him out of the patrol, which probably was an accident.
Blow the whistle.
But if Webster died when it should have been him,
Blow the whistle.
it’d be like being stuck in a hole in Bastogne for all eternity.
BLOW THE DAMN WHISTLE!
He screamed it that time.
~~~
‘Web?’
‘Ya Liebgott?’
‘Got a bunk already for tonight?’
‘Uh, I’m not sure. You offering?’
‘Maybe.’
‘I didn’t take you for a cuddler, Lieb.’
‘Jesus, you perv. I meant like there's an empty bunk above mine.’
‘Okay sure.’
‘Catch ya later, Web.’
~~~
Liebgott lay awake, listening to Webster breathing above him. He felt itchy all over. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. He had to do something or he was going to explode.
‘Psst. Web, you awake?’
There was a delayed and groggy response.
‘Ya, Joe. You okay?’
‘I want to go for a walk.’
Liebgott swung his legs out over the side of the bunk.
‘We were ordered to get a full night’s sleep.’ Web whispered. Liebgott snorted.
‘Please tell me you are joking.’
‘Fine, fine. I’ll go with.’
Webster pulled his T-shirt back on before he jumped out of the bed, hitting the ground with a soft thump.
‘Shhh!’ Liebgott chastised him.
‘Sorry!’ Webster whispered back.
They both tiptoed outside, their boot laces still undone. Once out on the street, they pushed their hands deep into their pockets and gazed skyward.
Liebgott’s dog tags clinked against his bare chest as they walked along in companionable silence. Until Webster stepped in front of him.
‘Okay, Joe. What’s all this about?’ Webster waved his hands around in a sweeping motion. As if the answer could be found somewhere out there in the darkness.
Liebgott thought that was definitely the right place for this. For him.
‘Don’t call me Joe.’
Liebgott looked up and Webster was searching his face.
‘Why not?’ Webster had his hands on his hips. The pause seemed to stretch for hours.
‘Because it makes me want to do things-’
Webster looked bewildered for a heartbeat and Liebgott grinned.
‘to you.’
Liebgott dragged Webster across the street and pushed him up against a wall. Liebgott dropped to his knees with a thud that seemed to push all the air right out of Webster’s lungs. Liebgott’s hands found Webster’s fly. He didn’t even bother pushing his pants down. He gripped the base of Webster’s cock and tugged it forward.
‘Fuck, Joe.’ Webster breathed out, his hands already fisting in Liebgott’s hair. He canted forward involuntarily. Liebgott pushed Webster's hips back with his other hand as his mouth covered the tip of Webster’s cock.
‘You said-’ Webster said between gritted teeth. Liebgott sucked him in as far as he could, still gripping the base of Webster's cock. Webster threw his head back against the wall.
‘after Toccoa-’ Webster was still trying to get out what he was trying to say. Liebgott scraped his teeth along the bottom of Webster’s cock before he hallowed his cheeks and took Webster all the way in again.
‘we had to-’ Liebgott sucked. Hard. Webster’s sentence was lost in the midst of a dragged out moan.
Liebgott let Webster’s cock slide from between his lips.
‘Shut. Up.’ Liebgott bit out, finally looking Webster in the eye.
Webster whimpered. He gripped Liebgott’s shoulders and hauled him up. He pulled him forward until they were touching everywhere. Webster was going cross-eyed looking at him. Liebgott started fisting his own cock through his pants.
But Liebgott wouldn’t let Webster’s lips reach his.
‘Maybe next time, princess.’ Was all he said in explanation.
Webster shook him.
‘You’re such a fucker.’ Webster whispered into Liebgott’s ear before kissing his cheek.
‘I’m the fucker? Do I need to remind you which one of us stayed holed up in a nice hospital and which one of us almost froze to death?’ Liebgott was trying to say it with heat, but he was concentrated on other things.
Liebgott moaned, supposedly in protest, as Webster kissed along Liebgott’s jawline, letting his tongue graze along smooth skin. He sucked on Liebgott’s ear lobe and Liebgott crumpled against him.
‘It’s not like I had wings or magical powers to be able to get to you.’ Webster whispered before he mouthed at Liebgott’s neck.
‘Shhh.’ Liebgott said harshly. He took Webster’s cock back into his hand and pumped. Webster came with his face buried in Liebgott’s neck. Liebgott canted his hips up into Webster’s thigh and bit back Webster’s name as he came.
‘Can’t you just say you missed me?’ Webster panted out.
‘No.’ Liebgott was limp against Webster.
‘Why not?’Webster gripped at Liegbott’s arms, studying his face.
Liebgott looked away, as if he was talking to himself.
‘I would never wish for you to have to go through Bastogne.’
Webster let him go then.
Liebgott ran his hand through his hair and stepped back, his other hand on his hip.
He met Webster’s eyes, and water was pooling at the edges. Webster’s lips were quivering.
‘Jesus, Web. Don’t cry. Your dick is still hanging out. It’s probably getting cold.’
He tucked Webster back into his pants and zipped him up. Webster played idly with Liebgott’s dog tags, turning them over and over in his palm. Webster ran his hands over Liebgott’s stomach before Liebgott grabbed his arm and pulled him forward.
‘C’mon soldier, back to bed.’
‘So much for a full night’s sleep.’
~~~
The next morning they were shipping out and Webster was avoiding him.
It was easy to understand why. Confusion never did settle well with the Harvard boy.
Webster came to load into his truck, just like Liebgott knew he eventually would. He sat at the edge of the bench, waiting.
He stuck out his hand and smiled.
That was the only answer Liebgott could give just yet.
~fin.
Comments are love.
takes place in Haguenau towards the end of 'The Last Patrol';
Lieb/Web;
NC17;
1538 words.
See, this was his problem. He hadn’t really noticed Web until he wasn’t there anymore.
Not that Liebgott put any stock in that ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’ bullshit.
It was just that he found himself listening for an opportunity to make some crack about Harvard or to hear someone debating goddamn literature or something, but it was all quite on the intellectual front.
It was all Bastogne’s fault, really.
Fuck Bastogne.
Hiding in a hole you dug with a broken shovel while slowly freezing to death, half hoping the Krauts would kill you instead- In between fearing for your life and trying to find warm food, there wasn’t much else to do but think.
You get so far inside your own head it’s hard to climb back out sometimes.
He couldn’t stand being around the other guys for very long anyway. Fuck him sideways but he was not a goddamn cuddler.
“No offense, boys.” He’d say.
“Fine, freeze your ass off Lieb. See if we care.”
Plus, he wanted to avoid Babe Heffron at all costs. The kid was fucking smiling all the time. Here they were, stuck in the middle of a frozen wasteland surrounded by Krauts and this kid was giggling and following Doc Roe around like they are at some tropical paradise on vacation. George Luz couldn’t even make Liebgott laugh at this point.
Too bad no one wanted to listen to him bitch.
And so what if he thought about David fucking Webster?
Of course he’d be pissed at the guys that weren’t there, helping Easy hold the line.
Of course he’d wonder how long it took to get a hurt leg patched up.
Of course he’d want to know how likely an infection was.
Oh, but Liebgott was going to have to give Web a piece of his mind when he saw him again.
This whole damn thing was his fault. The waiting, the not knowing, the dead-man-walking feeling at every step - Goddamnit, but Liebgott wanted to live. He wanted to see Webster again. And that made Bastogne ten times more torturous.
In Haguenau, Liebgott watched Webster make his way to their truck. He had what he wanted to say all worked out in his head.
He was satisfied with Web’s crushed expression. The man still had all his emotions intact, and the right amount of naivety to be able to show them.
And Liebgott was still alive.
~~~
Webster looked fit and healthy and rested up. He looked like he should have been in some picture, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks like that. Hell, he looked good.
Liebgott wasn’t a fucking stalker, okay. But the guy always ended up in his vicinity. Maybe being in the same platoon had something to do with that. But Webster was busy with his new best friend, Lt. Jones.
It’s not like Liebgott had much to say to him anyway.
Or maybe he just had too much to say to be able to know where to start.
The patrol shook Liebgott out of his silence.
He sat there, ready to blow that Kraut house to hell.
Blow the whistle.
But it wasn’t the Krauts he was thinking about.
Blow the whistle.
Webster had gotten him out of the patrol, which probably was an accident.
Blow the whistle.
But if Webster died when it should have been him,
Blow the whistle.
it’d be like being stuck in a hole in Bastogne for all eternity.
BLOW THE DAMN WHISTLE!
He screamed it that time.
~~~
‘Web?’
‘Ya Liebgott?’
‘Got a bunk already for tonight?’
‘Uh, I’m not sure. You offering?’
‘Maybe.’
‘I didn’t take you for a cuddler, Lieb.’
‘Jesus, you perv. I meant like there's an empty bunk above mine.’
‘Okay sure.’
‘Catch ya later, Web.’
~~~
Liebgott lay awake, listening to Webster breathing above him. He felt itchy all over. He couldn’t stop fidgeting. He had to do something or he was going to explode.
‘Psst. Web, you awake?’
There was a delayed and groggy response.
‘Ya, Joe. You okay?’
‘I want to go for a walk.’
Liebgott swung his legs out over the side of the bunk.
‘We were ordered to get a full night’s sleep.’ Web whispered. Liebgott snorted.
‘Please tell me you are joking.’
‘Fine, fine. I’ll go with.’
Webster pulled his T-shirt back on before he jumped out of the bed, hitting the ground with a soft thump.
‘Shhh!’ Liebgott chastised him.
‘Sorry!’ Webster whispered back.
They both tiptoed outside, their boot laces still undone. Once out on the street, they pushed their hands deep into their pockets and gazed skyward.
Liebgott’s dog tags clinked against his bare chest as they walked along in companionable silence. Until Webster stepped in front of him.
‘Okay, Joe. What’s all this about?’ Webster waved his hands around in a sweeping motion. As if the answer could be found somewhere out there in the darkness.
Liebgott thought that was definitely the right place for this. For him.
‘Don’t call me Joe.’
Liebgott looked up and Webster was searching his face.
‘Why not?’ Webster had his hands on his hips. The pause seemed to stretch for hours.
‘Because it makes me want to do things-’
Webster looked bewildered for a heartbeat and Liebgott grinned.
‘to you.’
Liebgott dragged Webster across the street and pushed him up against a wall. Liebgott dropped to his knees with a thud that seemed to push all the air right out of Webster’s lungs. Liebgott’s hands found Webster’s fly. He didn’t even bother pushing his pants down. He gripped the base of Webster’s cock and tugged it forward.
‘Fuck, Joe.’ Webster breathed out, his hands already fisting in Liebgott’s hair. He canted forward involuntarily. Liebgott pushed Webster's hips back with his other hand as his mouth covered the tip of Webster’s cock.
‘You said-’ Webster said between gritted teeth. Liebgott sucked him in as far as he could, still gripping the base of Webster's cock. Webster threw his head back against the wall.
‘after Toccoa-’ Webster was still trying to get out what he was trying to say. Liebgott scraped his teeth along the bottom of Webster’s cock before he hallowed his cheeks and took Webster all the way in again.
‘we had to-’ Liebgott sucked. Hard. Webster’s sentence was lost in the midst of a dragged out moan.
Liebgott let Webster’s cock slide from between his lips.
‘Shut. Up.’ Liebgott bit out, finally looking Webster in the eye.
Webster whimpered. He gripped Liebgott’s shoulders and hauled him up. He pulled him forward until they were touching everywhere. Webster was going cross-eyed looking at him. Liebgott started fisting his own cock through his pants.
But Liebgott wouldn’t let Webster’s lips reach his.
‘Maybe next time, princess.’ Was all he said in explanation.
Webster shook him.
‘You’re such a fucker.’ Webster whispered into Liebgott’s ear before kissing his cheek.
‘I’m the fucker? Do I need to remind you which one of us stayed holed up in a nice hospital and which one of us almost froze to death?’ Liebgott was trying to say it with heat, but he was concentrated on other things.
Liebgott moaned, supposedly in protest, as Webster kissed along Liebgott’s jawline, letting his tongue graze along smooth skin. He sucked on Liebgott’s ear lobe and Liebgott crumpled against him.
‘It’s not like I had wings or magical powers to be able to get to you.’ Webster whispered before he mouthed at Liebgott’s neck.
‘Shhh.’ Liebgott said harshly. He took Webster’s cock back into his hand and pumped. Webster came with his face buried in Liebgott’s neck. Liebgott canted his hips up into Webster’s thigh and bit back Webster’s name as he came.
‘Can’t you just say you missed me?’ Webster panted out.
‘No.’ Liebgott was limp against Webster.
‘Why not?’Webster gripped at Liegbott’s arms, studying his face.
Liebgott looked away, as if he was talking to himself.
‘I would never wish for you to have to go through Bastogne.’
Webster let him go then.
Liebgott ran his hand through his hair and stepped back, his other hand on his hip.
He met Webster’s eyes, and water was pooling at the edges. Webster’s lips were quivering.
‘Jesus, Web. Don’t cry. Your dick is still hanging out. It’s probably getting cold.’
He tucked Webster back into his pants and zipped him up. Webster played idly with Liebgott’s dog tags, turning them over and over in his palm. Webster ran his hands over Liebgott’s stomach before Liebgott grabbed his arm and pulled him forward.
‘C’mon soldier, back to bed.’
‘So much for a full night’s sleep.’
~~~
The next morning they were shipping out and Webster was avoiding him.
It was easy to understand why. Confusion never did settle well with the Harvard boy.
Webster came to load into his truck, just like Liebgott knew he eventually would. He sat at the edge of the bench, waiting.
He stuck out his hand and smiled.
That was the only answer Liebgott could give just yet.
~fin.
Comments are love.