028. justprompts (from a million years ago)
The scream pierced the near-silent tension in the delivery room, followed by a collective breath of relief.
"Congratulations, Lidia. You have a son."
She took the bundle into her arms and immediately kissed the baby's forehead. "Ah, there's my boy." She sighed. "My little dov. Your papa will be sorry to have missed you."
* * *
His fists flew before he could see straight. The bat, the ball, and the glove clattered right out of his arms and seemed to hit the asphalt at the same time, causing the same echo. Seconds later, he heard another echo, as the first kid went down. Skull against asphalt. It sounded the same as the ball.
He took out the second one with a ball to the small of the back. That had been one of the smaller ones - though still a head taller than Donny and a couple years older - choosing to flee rather than fight with his bretheren in crime. He stumbled, thanks to the impact, tripped over his own feet, and slid.
The third, the biggest of the bunch, who had delivered the fatal blow, took a fighting stance. But Donny took the bat to his kneecaps. And then his shins. And his ribcage. And his arms. The bully went down. And his ribs again. And his jaw. And...
His palms were too sweaty and the bat slipped. The other kids took off running, shouting hasty apologies and pleas over their shoulders. Even the little one, with the scrapes and the bruise on his back, managed to limp off. The two on the ground were still, except for the occasional whimper or bloody cough.
As the tears finally leaked, he could see straight again. Straight enough to know that he'd leave the ball and glove lie, that the more important thing was cradling, protecting the beagle's limp body as he carried it up the stairs and back into the house. But once he was comfortable with his dog's dead weight in his arms, he grabbed the bat again, too. Just in case.
* * *
"...You look all right, Teya."
"You're just sayin' that, shithead, 'cause you don't want me to think you fucked up my hair."
"Will you shut up for two goddamn seconds? I'm serious here, all right?"
"All right, all right. We're serious."
"I just -"
"...Are you crying?"
"You shut the fuck up."
"Donny. Are you - ohmygahd. You are! Oh, that's so cute!"
"Dorothy -"
"Mama! Come here, quick! Your son's havin' an emotion. He's in tears 'cause his big sister looks so goddamn beautiful in her wedding dress!"
"I'm gonna step on your fuckin' train and rip it, clean off, before we get halfway down this fuckin' aisle. ...Don't fuckin' try to kiss me, get away."
"Oh, shut up. ...Fix my veil, I think it's crooked."
* * *
Whether it was the wine, the conversation, the company, or even just the air, it had the boy in stitches, laughing until he cried. It only took a moment, however, for Aldo to wipe the stupid grin off his soldier's face. Donny still had tears in his eyes when their lips brushed together.
* * *
Cracked lips against dry skin. Even the moisture in his mouth had all disappeared. (Well. No, they were sharing it. And it wasn't his turn, just then.)
But, if nothing else, his face, his neck, the stomach, the groin that weren't his (but maybe, just for the moment, could have been) were damp. It's sweat, just sweat. That's all. It's not...
Obviously, he was the only one who thought so. His chin was wrenched up, forcefully.
"Boy, you better cut that out, right now. And you bet your ass that's a gahdamn order." Concern, though. Not anger. Not disappointment. And a smile.
Hot tears wiped away, even though, all things considered, they were more help than hindrance. He smirked, too. "Yes, sir."
* * *
By the time he realized what was happening, the gun had already gone off twice. The vet was hastily digging through a cabinet. The woman, the bitch on the table, was yelling. The dogs were barking. His head was spinning and it didn't help that, just then, Aldo was stronger than he was and forcing him back into the front of the office they'd just barged through.
The ground undulated under his feet. He did his best to keep his stomach out of his throat. It probably showed. "What's this for, huh?"
Aldo, who seemed perfectly steady despite the unstable ground, settled him with a quiet stare for a good thirty seconds. "Boy, I know you ain't never seen one dead friend 'fore tonight, let alone two. An' I know it's my fault, lettin' you sip outta my flask when we both know it don't even take a whole drink to turn you useless. What you did in there -"
"What?" He put his shoulders back and stood as straight as he could, hoping to challenge what sounded like the beginning of an accusation he wasn't about to accept. Never mind that his words were almost slurring together. Almost. "Get the fuckin' ball rollin' on savin' that worthless cunt?" With a raised voice, he leaned in the direction of the door to the back room.
The actress, muffled by the walls between them, shouted something back in German, but before he could say, "Fuck you, too, sweetheart," Aldo had a strong grasp on his shoulder again.
"Sergeant, you -"
Scoff. "Oh, what? We're pullin' rank now?"
"Donny," Aldo started again, visibly gritting his teeth, and that just felt worse. "You were and are makin' a gahdamn commotion and this is not the fuckin' time, boy. Now what yer gonna do, right now, is shut that trap of yours and not open it 'til I tell you. Do I make myself clear?"
"Tch." He dropped the stance, but wobbled back and had to make a valiant effort to keep the hard sit onto the edge of the desk he accidentally found seem intentional. Nonchalant, even, which he affected with a change back to the matter at hand. Ignoring the reprimand as hard as possible. "They were fuckin' askin' for it."
Hands on his hips, Aldo shook his head and exhaled a sigh of frustration. "No, I don't think those poor dogs were askin' for any'a what you gave 'em."
"The - ?" Whatever he wanted to ask, it died in his throat and he choked on it, almost to the point of getting physically ill. He didn't make it all the way to dry heaving, but his face got uncomfortably hot and wet, uncomfortably fast.
The lieutenant bore a look of a man who knew, all along, what he'd been in for. "What you did in there," he repeated emphatically, "it wasn't your fault. I blame myself and the rest'a this god-forsaken day more'n I'll ever blame you. But that don't change the fact that I can't have you flyin' off the handle. Not now, not any other time tonight. D'you hear me?"
"Aww, fuck." His arms and his breath trembled, but he managed to pry one hand off the edge of the desk and press the heel of his palm into one of his eye sockets. Like it would help. More imortantly, he nodded, too.
Without warning, Aldo's still-bloody fingers pressed firmly into either side of his jaw and forced him to look up, look his commanding officer in the eyes. "I need you, all put together, soldier," was what he said. "And I need you with me, now'n always, so, what we say you keep that fuckin' knife in its sheath and stick that gun somewhere it belongs, like the up the ass'a gahdamn German whore who lost us Stiglitz and Wicki, 'til she starts singin' like she was s'posed to?"
He nodded again and Aldo held him, like that, a little longer, while their mouths hungrily crushed together. Donny's eyes were drier and steadier than they had been - all day, maybe - when they made their triumphant return.
"Congratulations, Lidia. You have a son."
She took the bundle into her arms and immediately kissed the baby's forehead. "Ah, there's my boy." She sighed. "My little dov. Your papa will be sorry to have missed you."
* * *
His fists flew before he could see straight. The bat, the ball, and the glove clattered right out of his arms and seemed to hit the asphalt at the same time, causing the same echo. Seconds later, he heard another echo, as the first kid went down. Skull against asphalt. It sounded the same as the ball.
He took out the second one with a ball to the small of the back. That had been one of the smaller ones - though still a head taller than Donny and a couple years older - choosing to flee rather than fight with his bretheren in crime. He stumbled, thanks to the impact, tripped over his own feet, and slid.
The third, the biggest of the bunch, who had delivered the fatal blow, took a fighting stance. But Donny took the bat to his kneecaps. And then his shins. And his ribcage. And his arms. The bully went down. And his ribs again. And his jaw. And...
His palms were too sweaty and the bat slipped. The other kids took off running, shouting hasty apologies and pleas over their shoulders. Even the little one, with the scrapes and the bruise on his back, managed to limp off. The two on the ground were still, except for the occasional whimper or bloody cough.
As the tears finally leaked, he could see straight again. Straight enough to know that he'd leave the ball and glove lie, that the more important thing was cradling, protecting the beagle's limp body as he carried it up the stairs and back into the house. But once he was comfortable with his dog's dead weight in his arms, he grabbed the bat again, too. Just in case.
* * *
"...You look all right, Teya."
"You're just sayin' that, shithead, 'cause you don't want me to think you fucked up my hair."
"Will you shut up for two goddamn seconds? I'm serious here, all right?"
"All right, all right. We're serious."
"I just -"
"...Are you crying?"
"You shut the fuck up."
"Donny. Are you - ohmygahd. You are! Oh, that's so cute!"
"Dorothy -"
"Mama! Come here, quick! Your son's havin' an emotion. He's in tears 'cause his big sister looks so goddamn beautiful in her wedding dress!"
"I'm gonna step on your fuckin' train and rip it, clean off, before we get halfway down this fuckin' aisle. ...Don't fuckin' try to kiss me, get away."
"Oh, shut up. ...Fix my veil, I think it's crooked."
* * *
Whether it was the wine, the conversation, the company, or even just the air, it had the boy in stitches, laughing until he cried. It only took a moment, however, for Aldo to wipe the stupid grin off his soldier's face. Donny still had tears in his eyes when their lips brushed together.
* * *
Cracked lips against dry skin. Even the moisture in his mouth had all disappeared. (Well. No, they were sharing it. And it wasn't his turn, just then.)
But, if nothing else, his face, his neck, the stomach, the groin that weren't his (but maybe, just for the moment, could have been) were damp. It's sweat, just sweat. That's all. It's not...
Obviously, he was the only one who thought so. His chin was wrenched up, forcefully.
"Boy, you better cut that out, right now. And you bet your ass that's a gahdamn order." Concern, though. Not anger. Not disappointment. And a smile.
Hot tears wiped away, even though, all things considered, they were more help than hindrance. He smirked, too. "Yes, sir."
* * *
By the time he realized what was happening, the gun had already gone off twice. The vet was hastily digging through a cabinet. The woman, the bitch on the table, was yelling. The dogs were barking. His head was spinning and it didn't help that, just then, Aldo was stronger than he was and forcing him back into the front of the office they'd just barged through.
The ground undulated under his feet. He did his best to keep his stomach out of his throat. It probably showed. "What's this for, huh?"
Aldo, who seemed perfectly steady despite the unstable ground, settled him with a quiet stare for a good thirty seconds. "Boy, I know you ain't never seen one dead friend 'fore tonight, let alone two. An' I know it's my fault, lettin' you sip outta my flask when we both know it don't even take a whole drink to turn you useless. What you did in there -"
"What?" He put his shoulders back and stood as straight as he could, hoping to challenge what sounded like the beginning of an accusation he wasn't about to accept. Never mind that his words were almost slurring together. Almost. "Get the fuckin' ball rollin' on savin' that worthless cunt?" With a raised voice, he leaned in the direction of the door to the back room.
The actress, muffled by the walls between them, shouted something back in German, but before he could say, "Fuck you, too, sweetheart," Aldo had a strong grasp on his shoulder again.
"Sergeant, you -"
Scoff. "Oh, what? We're pullin' rank now?"
"Donny," Aldo started again, visibly gritting his teeth, and that just felt worse. "You were and are makin' a gahdamn commotion and this is not the fuckin' time, boy. Now what yer gonna do, right now, is shut that trap of yours and not open it 'til I tell you. Do I make myself clear?"
"Tch." He dropped the stance, but wobbled back and had to make a valiant effort to keep the hard sit onto the edge of the desk he accidentally found seem intentional. Nonchalant, even, which he affected with a change back to the matter at hand. Ignoring the reprimand as hard as possible. "They were fuckin' askin' for it."
Hands on his hips, Aldo shook his head and exhaled a sigh of frustration. "No, I don't think those poor dogs were askin' for any'a what you gave 'em."
"The - ?" Whatever he wanted to ask, it died in his throat and he choked on it, almost to the point of getting physically ill. He didn't make it all the way to dry heaving, but his face got uncomfortably hot and wet, uncomfortably fast.
The lieutenant bore a look of a man who knew, all along, what he'd been in for. "What you did in there," he repeated emphatically, "it wasn't your fault. I blame myself and the rest'a this god-forsaken day more'n I'll ever blame you. But that don't change the fact that I can't have you flyin' off the handle. Not now, not any other time tonight. D'you hear me?"
"Aww, fuck." His arms and his breath trembled, but he managed to pry one hand off the edge of the desk and press the heel of his palm into one of his eye sockets. Like it would help. More imortantly, he nodded, too.
Without warning, Aldo's still-bloody fingers pressed firmly into either side of his jaw and forced him to look up, look his commanding officer in the eyes. "I need you, all put together, soldier," was what he said. "And I need you with me, now'n always, so, what we say you keep that fuckin' knife in its sheath and stick that gun somewhere it belongs, like the up the ass'a gahdamn German whore who lost us Stiglitz and Wicki, 'til she starts singin' like she was s'posed to?"
He nodded again and Aldo held him, like that, a little longer, while their mouths hungrily crushed together. Donny's eyes were drier and steadier than they had been - all day, maybe - when they made their triumphant return.