Love is Like a Lobotomy (Pt. 1)

[legit]

Much thanks to jeanquirieplus for the title graphic.

"Man, what the fuck's takin' so long? He should've been here already!" Bill Leyden sighed as he reclined against the hard plastic of the airport seat. "It isn't like we don't have shit to do, you know?"

"No one said you had to come," Bill Guarnere returned back from across him, just as testy and impatient. "Ain't you supposed to be in school anyways?"

"And miss Basilone comin' back? No fucking way." Leyden gave him a shit-eating grin despite his earlier bitching. "That guy's like a fucking legend! Besides. Babe's ditchin' too."

Next to him, Babe Heffron gave him a glare to which Leyden just grinned wider and elbowed him.

"Then shut the hell up and wait," JP Morgan cut in from the front seat next to Guarnere without looking away from his phone. "Especially you two-fucking squawking left and right."

"Hey, what the hell, JP?" Guarnere growled straightening in his chair. "I was telling the kid to shut his trap."

"Yeah well if ain't him, it's you." JP glanced up to scowl back at him. "Fuck, Bill, I'm sure they can hear you in the fucking plane."

"Would all of you be quiet? Shouting isn't going to make John appear out of thin air," Harry Welsh commented, grinning despite the tension in the air and taking a sip of his coffee, unaffected. "Some welcome home you guys are."

John Basilone was a legend in the neighborhood, rotating home after decorated service abroad. Even though none of them had grown up in the neighborhood-besides Leyden and (to an extent) Guarnere's cousin, Babe. Bill Guarnere, Harry Welsh, and Frank Perconte had considered themselves family with John as the apple of their eye.

Every accomplishment of his had been theirs and even the Basilone family acted like they were regular members of the household. Guarnere, Welsh, and one of Basilone's friends, JP Morgan, were supposed to welcome him home. Leyden and Babe, being the tag-along kids they'd known so well, of course ditched school to join in. With Basilone’s real brothers waiting at home with Perconte, all they (Guarnere, Welsh, JP, Leyden, and Babe) had to do was pick him up. Which had been easy in theory, but…

"How can his flight be delayed? For three hours?" Leyden began again. Guarnere opened his mouth to snap, which caused JP to open his mouth to snap back at him; all three were rising when a voice cut in:

"And that's my welcome home. Good to be back."

The group spun in unison to see, standing there in his dress uniform, John Basilone grinning at all of them. He chuckled at their silence and soon they were all surrounding him in a group embrace, all of their ill-will gone.

"Fuck, John, scare a man, why don’cha?" Guarnere laughed, breaking away. "Good to see ya, ya crazy bastard. You been worrying your ma, you know that?"

"You're a cop, Guarnere; it'd take a lot more than me to scare you," Basilone returned easily as he was finally released from Leyden's death grip. (JP had to help pry the other off of him with a wry, "Fuck, Leyden, you'll fucking kill him before he can get home!"), "Can't let my ma worry, then. Let's get the hell out of here. I'm sick of this place already."

"Finally," Babe commented with a smirk at Leyden when the others agreed instead of argued. Leyden rolled his eyes, smiling back as he shoved him again. They were all just happy to have John back.

Well, that and knowing they were cutting class.

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Webster was not expecting Nixon's new receptionist to be a clearly-male college student-nothing like the young, pretty, perky, twenty-something girls of past. He paused, mentally reassuring himself that yes: This was indeed the right place. He closed the door behind him and, as politely as he could with someone who was clearly ignoring him, asked, "Is Mr. Nixon in?"

The receptionist didn't look up from his computer. There was a good five minutes of silence before the other replied in a lazy drawl, as if Webster being there was of no consequence to him. "Nah, you just missed him. He left for lunch. Should be back in an hour."

Webster ignored the buzzing of his cell and sighed. Figures he gets texted about an emergency, therefore pulled out of an important meeting at work, and Nixon wasn't even there. It wasn’t as though he didn't have places to be; he just couldn't show up on cue because his job was a lot more...freelance than his. Finally caving to his iPhone's constant whirring, he pulled it out in time to see several missed calls from the production company.

"...Webster?" Webster looked up from his phone, pocketing it with a grimace as the receptionist finally decided whatever he was doing was satisfactory enough that he would attempt his job. One quick glance to his name plate just confused Webster further. Snafu. (He could remember Leckie breaking down military lingo for him once). The receptionist was regarding him with half-lidded eyes.

"Excuse me?"

Snafu just kept his eyes locked on Webster. It was more than a little uncomfortable.

"Is your name David K. Webster?" he repeated, as if Web was slow. Not moving, nor breaking his gaze, lips tilted slightly in a smirk he said, "You either are or ain't."

"I am?" His cell phone was going off again, he was probably going to be fired at this rate. "Did Nix say why he needed me to come here, when obviously he can't be bothered to be here himself?"

Snafu ignored the remark as simply as if Webster had just given a greeting, muttering as he grabbed for something behind his desk. "Mr. Nixon said you’d say something like that."

"Well then he should know to be here on time when I'm in the middle of a meeting which I cut out on just for him."

"Said you'd say that, too." Snafu unceremoniously dropped a large book on the desk with a dull thud. "This is yours, right? Something about being for you and your boyfriend--"

"Leckie is my roommate, he's not my boyfriend," Webster corrected, out of habit more than anything else, but went back to picking up the aforementioned book. "I can't believe it-is this one of the first pressings of Candide translated into German?"

Snafu raised a brow, the significance lost on him, his hand already moving back to the mouse.

"Don't you get it? This is a rare find! I can't believe Nix found this-Leckie is going to be so excited when I show it to him." Webster did not gush, though he did come dangerously close. Snafu just turned back to the computer screen, his job done for the day.

Webster's phone buzzed loudly in his pocket again and he balanced the volume in his arms while he dug it out. "Could you tell Nix ‘thanks’ for me?"

Snafu gave a non-committal grunt, already back to ignoring him.

"I'll be going then, thanks...." Webster placed his phone back, relaxing when he saw it was simply a text. "Nice meeting you--is your name really Snafu?"

"That's what the nameplate says, doesn't it?" Snafu snorted, still not looking up from the screen.

"Uh, right." Webster looked hardly convinced but he made his way to the door, anyways. "Well, it was interesting meeting you, Snafu."

Snafu looked up from the monitor with a smirk that Web could've sworn was condescending. Web chose not to comment, turning on his heel to leave.

He was starting to think that maybe he preferred the shallow, vapid, teenage girls after all. At least he didn't feel half as unsettled as that last encounter had left him.

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Richard Winters was something of an anomaly in the corporate world. Having had the position of CEO just dropped on his lap barely a few years ago, he'd had the sense and the ability to lead Nixon Nitration Works into the difficult transition of natural gas and even expanded the company into international affairs. All in all, the company was flourishing under his leadership and for someone who had little business experience at the beginning of it all, Winters was a quick study and a great leader.

Of course, Lewis Nixon always did like driving up in his sensible sports car and walking into the lobby knowing full well that he was sleeping with the owner. He was proud of Dick, more than a little pleased that what had just been a crazy idea actually had worked out. He ignored the pointed glare from his sister's husband as he glanced up at the glass elevators. Nixon just grinned and reveled in knowing how much it probably pissed the other guy off that his wife's brother's gay lover could run a company with little formal education and not kissing Nixon's father's ass.

Lewis made himself comfortable on the lobby couch with the relative ease of someone who used to own the place and, in a sense, still did.

As if on cue, he spotted Winters descending the escalator, with his chief operating officer, Andrew Haldane, following.

"Just go and get some lunch, Eddie, and I can hold down the fort till you get back." Haldane nodded in greeting as they neared. "Dick, we'll be fine without you for an hour."

"Dike still hasn't shown up; he's been gone for three hours," Winters interjected, brow raised. Even in his fine suit (which Nixon recalled picking and forcing him into that morning) he looked stressed.

"And we'll handle it-we've got Muck and Conley helping us, too. It'll be ok," Haldane assured calmly. "Nix, please take him before he bursts a blood vessel."

"Let me guess. The newest chairman of the board has decided to go AWOL?" Nixon inquired as he wrapped an arm around Winters, pulling him closer. "Come on, Dick, I'm already facing the wrath of Webster for you."

"It's a nightmare, Nix. He won't do anything-even when he's here." Winters sighed, straightening as he adjusted his tie. "Ack Ack, you and Hillbilly will let me know as soon as he shows up, right?"

"First step he takes back in," Haldane agreed, taking out his phone. "And I've got to take this. We'll see you back in an hour, and no less."

“I'll be back as soon as possible," Winters said, to which Haldane laughed, even with the phone at his ear.

"There's no doubt about that," he remarked loudly enough for them to hear. "Talk to you later, Boss."

Winters gave him a fond smile back, before following Nixon out of the tall, glass building and into the bustle of the city.

"Lew, how come the car looks like it's just been washed recently?" Winters pointed out, frowning slightly as Nixon dug for his keys.

"Just how long have you been out?"

"What can I say? Slow day for therapy." Nixon gave him a charming wink as he unlocked the door. "Don't worry. After lunch I've got a three o'clock."

"And how is your new receptionist working out?" Winters questioned as he entered the car, closing the door behind him.

"Your nephew is doing just fine," Nixon considered and let out a laugh. "Shaping up to be my finest employee."

"That can't be good," Winters observed as Nixon eased his way into traffic. "He's not wasting away in front of the computer, is he?"

"It's vital to his work?"

"Nix..."

"He gets a lot more work done than my last receptionists," Nixon prompted, cutting in front of a particularly slow car. "Though I do need to pick him up something to eat. Don't want him 'wasting away', after all..."

Winters leaned back into the chair and laughed despite himself.

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Haldane pocketed his phone as soon as Winters was out of sight and made his way to the elevator where Edward Jones was already waiting for him.

"Ack Ack." He handed him a coffee and surmised, "Winters finally taking a break?"

"Thanks, Eddie, and yes, he is." He took a sip from the foam cup and gave an appreciative smile.

"No problem, sir." Hillbilly leaned in, uncaring about how it looked to passersby. "By the way, we found Dike."

"Good work." Haldane, true to his word, pulled out his phone to text Winters. "Where was he?"

"He's still with security." There was no shortage of amusement in Hillbilly's voice as he continued. "Apparently he forgot his badge to get in and no one down stairs has ever gotten a good look at him since he's been sneakin' in and out all the time so no one will vouch for him."

Haldane continued to text, pressing send before giving a small smirk. "Ironic."

"Last I heard from Conley, he thinks that by the time we arrive, Dike will be in tears," Hillbilly informed, with false sincerity.

"That security guard, Haney's work, I take it?" Haldane followed Hillbilly to the security wing of the building.

"Which means we're going to have to save him," Hillbilly noted dryly as he lead the way to where Haney was making their newest chairman of the board collapse into a sense of delirium.

Haldane, professional through and through, only raised a brow.

"Could be worse, right?" He offered, as they knocked on the large plastic door of the security office. "At least we caught him in the building for once."

"---And we're about to let him go," Hillbilly finished with a grimace. "We're just making things harder on ourselves in the end."

"But that's business, isn't it, Eddie?" Haldane replied, knocking on the door, "We've dealt with a lot worse, for a lot less."

"Yes, sir."

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Sid Phillips and Darrell Powers used to cook dinner for Sledge and his neighbors on the third floor of MacArthur Hall every Friday because, as they put it, "They would burn down the place." Phillips personally avowed that Sledge would end up killing most, if not all, of the residents if he even attempted dinner. So every Friday the two showed up in the communal kitchen and set to work.

At least that was how it used to be.

Now with Powers busy with the majority of his classes and Phillips getting ready to graduate, the tradition had wound down to every other Friday and sometimes none at all. So when Shifty was let out of class early and Sid wandered around and found Eugene eating a cheese sandwich on burnt toast, the two once again invited themselves in the kitchen no less than 2 hours later.

"All I'm sayin’ is, Eugene, you're not gonna woo any girl if you can't cook a proper meal," Sid chastised again from behind the counter, cutting up some celery for a potato salad. "Ain't that right, Shifty?"

"Somethin’ like that," Shifty added, frying up something that smelled like garlic and made Sledge's stomach grumble from his position at the table.

"Like you're one to talk, Sid. I haven't seen you on a date in months," Eugene shot back, looking up from his homework to give a pointed look. "You either, Shifty."

"That's ‘cause Shifty and I are men of class," Sid retorted with his usual grin, pausing to nudge Shifty from behind. "We don't go out with just any girl. She's got to be a lady."

"'Ladies' are too good for you too," Sledge said, matching Sid's grin with his own. "You forget how long I've known you Sid."

Sid opened his mouth to retort when Christenson and Burgin shuffled in. The two paused their conversation and glanced at the scene with a sudden gratefulness.

"You fellas are lifesavers," Burgin greeted, placing his knapsack in one of the seats. "Need help?"

"Just sit tight, we're almost done," Shifty called out, rummaging through their plates to find a serving dish. "You too, Christenson."

"Wouldn't mind if you'd set the table, though," Sid cut in, emerging from the counter to place a bowl of potato salad on the table. "And I'm watching you, Eugene Sledge. Don't you dare pick at this."

"I'm not five," Sledge grimaced and rose to help Christenson with the silverware. "Besides I'm not the one you should be worried about."

"We should probably save some for Janovec and Talbert," Burgin reminded, getting out some Tupperware along with the plates. "Leyden and Babe are back home for the night and Jay's gonna eat later. His stomach's acting up again."

"Again?" Sledge moved his things off the table, pausing to glance at the ceiling. "Should we get him something?"

"He'll be ok," Burgin insisted, placing down place-mats and plates. "He always is."

"Eugene, can you grab this pot over here?" Sledge weaved out of the way for Shifty to go through before grabbing some towels. Sid chuckled and took off his oven mitts, jamming them on Sledge's hands.

"What are you doing?" Sid just winked before handing him the silver pot in question, putting the towels near the sink.

"You all antsy cause of me, Eugene? That's sweet." Sledge tried to laugh it off with the rest of them but instead was focused on the warmth of the gloves. He glanced up to Sid's smile and couldn't think of what to say after that. He just moved to edge away, not sure if he should break eye contact or not.

"Snaf, what're you doing?"

Of course he turned in time to see Snafu standing right behind him, and almost dropped the pot completely.

"Snafu, how many times have I told you NOT to do that?" Sledge readjusted his grip on the handles and tried to bypass his roommate, who was now surveying the room. "You're supposed to tell people when you're home, not just pop up out of nowhere."

"You wanna join us for dinner?" Sid offered, though somewhat dubiously as he walked past. Snafu just held his gaze evenly and Sledge didn't have to look in their direction to know that he was probably holding onto his takeout with a death grip. Sledge didn't notice Burgin and Christenson exchange glances. Or how Shifty was watching the scene quietly, almost thoughtful.

"Got my own." Snafu waved the brown paper bag for emphasis, rolling his shoulder to adjust his laptop bag strap's place on it. He didn't move to join them.

"Just sit with us, it's not going to kill you." Sledge interrupted, emptying his things off the chair closest to him and breaking the tense silence. "You are not making a mess in our room, again."

The corners of Snafu's mouth twitched at that but he set down his food and made sure to place his bag on the seat next to him. Sid just took the last available seat at the table.

Sledge noted with another mental sigh that Snafu was taking Sid's fork, all the while smirking to himself. Sid looked less than pleased but politely rose to get himself another, making sure to avoid Snafu's knowing grin.

Burgin and Shifty started talking about hunting and Sledge became far too distracted talking against it that he didn't notice Snafu sneak some bites off his plate.

Part Two