legit
in
furimuke_ba
(no subject)
Fandom: The Pacific
Title: Just enough
Pairing: Snafu/Sledge
Author: poutmeter
Characters: Merriell "Snafu" Shelton, Eugene Sledge
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Bromance Slash
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own The Pacific, nor do I mean any disrespect to the real men in K company, and their families. This is based on the actors' portrayal of real men in a fictional setting not the actual men themselves. Seriously the real Sledge and Snafu were two very heterosexual men, this is simply work of fiction based on characters of The Pacific.
Summary: Snafu opens the door and finds Sledge on his doorstep, not even close to the man he remembers him to be.
A/N: Fill for the pacifickink. I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanted OP, it kind of...went in its own direction again. Beta'd by binnin because she is awesome and puts up with my crap.
Snafu wakes up to the sound of pounding on his door one hot evening in July. It's a frantic drumming that he, being half-awake, almost thinks this is a dream and soon the Japs will come bursting through to bayonet him. He sits up when the knocking increases, cursing as he half-falls out of bed and stomps to the front door. He swings open the door to shoot down whoever has come to harass him when he's got work in three hours--and the words die in his throat.
Eugene Sledge is standing there, looking like some ghost of his past, complete with a hell-warmed-over expression. He looks like he's just about run the entire way there from Mobile. They stare at each other in silence for a few minutes before Sledge coughs. He makes a pitiful sight. Clothes thrown on haphazardly, bag on his back, and even in the dim light his expression looks grim.
"Can I come in?" It's soft, shaky, and Snafu can't help but wonder what the hell Sledge has been through that's got him like this. Instead, he moves aside and replies, even. "Sho' thing."
Inside, Sledge places his bag down on the floor, squinting as Snafu turns on the light. Sledge looks like shit; thinner and paler than Snafu last remembered. The sight makes him feel a little sick himself. Instead he demands, "Whatcha doin' here, Sledgehammer?"
They were supposed to have moved on, closed that chapter of their lives, yet here he was, sitting on Snafu's couch and looking just like the war was still going on.
"I...I don't know," Sledge admits. His eyes are preoccupied. "I just…I can't go home right now."
He fidgets with his hands, avoids Snafu's gaze in the face, he just looks so damn lost, that Snafu feels something tighten in his chest and even though he knows better, knows that he's hardly adapted himself, and knows where this conversation is going to end, he prompts: "So you took yo' show on the road?"
"I just--I needed to talk to someone who knew what I've been through." Sledge is raw, pleading; the need is openly upfront. "Something...something's wrong."
Snafu doesn't want to hear any more of it--can't--and interrupts, "You went a long way for just a talk."
Sledge winces and tries to offer a shaky smile, "Yeah, well, you don't make things exactly easy."
Snafu doesn't press, Sledge doesn't offer up anymore, and Snafu concludes the night is about lost, anyways.
"I don't got much. Nothing yo' used to anyway." He finally remarks, breaking out a lucky strike. "And yo' gonna have to clean this shit hole and earn yo' keep. Only got a couch besides my bed."
"I didn't expect anything otherwise," Sledge smiles at him for the first time in a long time, and he feels appeased.
Snafu makes the little coffee he has left, Sledge takes it and they do talk. It's small talk, and Snafu can feel that pinprick presence of something greater being hidden in their conversation, but overall, it soothes both of them. Snafu doesn't return to bed, but offers it to Sledge, who shakes his head, and gets up to start tidying the living room.
"I'm not one for sleep much anymore." It's matched with a grimace and a tired smile. Snafu leaves for work that morning, with Sledge watching him from the couch, all relief. He'd make a joke if the action hadn't been painful for some reason.
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He returns home to a clean apartment, all except his room. If it wasn't for previous knowledge about Sledge's grand lifestyle, Snafu would have thought his own mother had come in and scrubbed the place clean. Sledge looks sheepish, and offers: "I don't like staying still much."
Snafu snorts, placing down the dinner he bought from down the street on the table, the smell of chicken and spices filling the tiny room at the crinkle of the wrappers. Sledge could stand to eat a little more, damn if he isn't all skin and bones now. Sledge goes to the table at the smell, his stomach rumbles loudly and he looks away almost embarrassed.
"...Didn't you eat anythin'?" Snafu's been gone for at least a good ten hours. Sledge has been cleaning around the same amount of time. Sledge shakes his head and muttering something about not having much of an appetite. Snafu calls bullshit and rolls his eyes, pushing past him to get two beers from the fridge. He pushes it and one of the po' boys towards Sledge and plops down on his chair.
Snafu just uncorks his beer and watches Sledge unwrap the sandwich, staring at the size.
"Jesus, what'd they put in here? A whole alligator?"
Snafu snorts, taking another swig out of his bottle. "Dat's only on Mardi Gras," he replies, expression angelic. Sledge smiles slightly despite himself and they eat dinner in silence. Sledge ends up wolfing down his dinner in record time, Snafu smirks at the sight, and pushes the other sandwich towards him.
"You need it more than I do," It gets a glare, but Snafu just shrugs and lights a Lucky. "Just eat it, Eugene. Don't make me waste my money; ain't got a lot of it lyin’ around."
Eugene scowls, but obeys. Snafu fishes for another Lucky in his pockets.
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After dinner, Sledge cleans up, Snafu watches. It's clear Sledge still hasn't said what he wants to talk about but Snafu doesn't prompt. Sledge breaks out his pipe among his meager possessions and they sit in the dim light, smoking.
"Yo' old man know you gone?" Snafu prompts because he half expected to get a call at the lumberyard from Mr. Sledge himself. Sledge nods, taking a deep drag from his pipe. He lets out a smoke trail that engulfs them both like a fog.
"He knows." It's clipped and that's all Snafu gets from him on the matter.
Well, at least Snafu wasn't going to have the police knocking down his door anytime soon.
"Snafu," Distant memories of Okinawa flash in his mind at Sledge's voice, and Snafu keeps his eyes on his shrinking cigarette. "I can't go back to Mobile right now."
"'Figured that." Snafu keeps the curiosity out of his voice and nods. "Man's gotta do what he's gotta do."
There's something broken in Sledge's tone as he continues. The words tumble forward slowly at first but pick up pace: "I can't forget anything and it's driving me crazy. Why the hell did I make it?" Sledge gets up, pacing. Snafu watches though he grips his cigarette tighter than he means to.
"How the hell did I survive? Why am I the only one who's still thinking about it all even when the war's been over? And even Sid's moved on! Shit, Snafu--it's eating me alive and no one can do a fucking thing!" Sledge finishes with a sob, reeling back into the beat up cushions of the couch, hands crisscrossed over his eyes. Snafu watches, sighs, and nudges him with his elbow. Snafu's cigarette burns out finally, and leaves them in the dark.
"Shit Sledgehammer, I can't promise you anythin' right now, but sho' as hell you ain't the only one feelin' like dyin'." He lets Sledge sob into the cushions and rubs his back. He figures he's been pulling so many hours this week, the boss man will let him call in this once. Neither of them get much sleep that night anyways.
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Snafu makes breakfast the next morning while Sledge is taking a shower he focuses on what his grandma's taught him. Tries to remember what it was like when she'd add dashes of this and that and no matter what the day, he'd feel better. He remembered calling her a traiteur once and how she'd laughed it off and rubbed his head. He knows it’s a stupid idea, but the thought behind it isn't so bad. He fills up Sledge's plate and sets it down in front of him as soon as he gets to the table. Snafu may or may not have smiled when Sledge practically tore through the thing, muttering in confusion at why the hell was he such a good cook that Snafu took as praise anyway.
Sledge wasn't a pretty girl, but hell if he wasn't one of the only people Snafu understood and understood him.
And that makes him feel warmer than if some broad actually replied back to his catcalls.
He makes a note to go the grocery later, now that there were two of them, food was going to be a necessity instead of optional.
Especially if he wanted to work on getting Sledge better.
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The next few days following are equally dramatic, Sledge eating--even though forcibly at times-- has him falling asleep. Falling asleep is its own challenge as, just like with Snafu, he thrashes, cries, and screams while he sleeps and more often than not there's a thud or a loud shriek from the living room. Snafu isn't sure where his patience is coming from--well he does know but damned if he's going to say it. Things become easier to just have Sledge stay on the floor in his room at night.
He ends up on the floor at some point anyways, so they end up lying next to each other, with the bed being unused.
Snafu finds after a while, though, that Sledge's kicking and screaming subsides just the slightest when he's nearby. He doesn't ever tell Sledge about it though he does lay a hand on his forehead, wonder when he'd become an overgrown babysitter, and wait until the fit passes. He begins to get used to sleeping sitting up, it causes havoc to his back, but Sledge gets color in his cheeks, so it evens out.
Besides, back pain aside, he'd rather take that then a fitful sleepless night hounded by brief dreams that make it hard to even breathe.
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They fall into a kind of regiment and the days start to become repetitive. Their night terrors collectively don't stop, but they do subside enough for them to actually get some sleep. Sledge finally begins to look like a human being instead of some kind of skeleton and Snafu gets a decent amount of sleep--back pains aside.
Of course, a week passes, then two, and Snafu knows that it's going to end soon. He can't admit that Sledge is wearing away at him, in ways he was expecting some pretty, sassy girl with a nice ass to.
Sledge seems to know they're working on some kind of time limit because he begins to get anxious to leave some kind of trace on Snafu and his home. Snafu returns one day to find books on his empty shelf, and a clock on the wall. The day after, there's a potted plant on the kitchen table that Sledge tends to like a fucking pet.
Snafu snaps because separation's going to be that much more difficult but the words almost always die in his throat when Sledge gives him that small smile. And damn it if it's not criminal how Sledge is just making it harder and harder to picture life without him.
Days turn to weeks that turn to months.
Just when he feels of guard about the whole thing, just when he thinks maybe he can manage with whatever the hell they're doing: Snafu arrives home one night and Sledge is holding a letter in his hand. Snafu puts down dinner and waits, he feels brittle.
"My father and mother want me to come home. My two months are up." He keeps his eyes glued to the paper and swallows, "I promised them I would."
Snafu's throat feels dry. He reaches for the most tangible emotion that he can; he retreats to anger.
"Mom an' Pop gave you a nice little vacation, huh?" The sneer burns as it comes out. "They let you chase some man in New Orleans? They weren't expecting grandchildren, were they?"
It's a low blow and Sledge actually rises from the couch. Snafu doesn't wither under his gaze, tries to keep his grip on that hot, white heat. He should have known. Hell, he did know. And he'd welcomed Sledge back into his life all the same.
"I'm tired of playin' house with you anyways. Get the hell out, Sledge." The phrase is more biting than expected. But Sledge doesn't move; just keeps staring at him with burning eyes.
"That wasn't why I came here. I needed to talk to you." Sledge's voice rises and his jaw clenches. "You left me before I could even say goodbye."
Snafu feels a pang of guilt resound inside him but he clings to anger like a lifeline. Things weren't supposed to be like this. He should've continued on with his life the way it was. Should've never let Sledge in that first night. Should've never let hi--
"Fuck you, Merriell--you won't even admit I'm your friend," Sledge cuts in, voice sharp; pitch equally so. He moves towards him, stomping purposefully. "If you want me to leave that badly, then fine! I forced myself here, didn't I?"
Snafu's anger is getting harder to hold onto. He knows that Sledge showing up on his doorstep was pretty much the only thing that'd kept his mind off the war and its demons ever since he'd returned. It's been the closest that he's had to living in a while and it hurts. He needs to feel angry--needs to feel the pinprick shards of loneliness disappear. He feels like something's ripping inside him. No one will understand him anymore. He'd have no one to understand in return. It'd just be him, work, and this crumbling apartment.
Sledge turns away from him, lets out a restrained sigh. He's so mad he's shaking.
"Then I'll just leave you to your misery, then." The tone is so painfully reminiscent of Snafu's that he'd marvel if he didn't feel like there was static between his ears, like his damn heart was getting yanked out of his chest.
"Eugene," he finds himself saying. It's soft, so soft, that Sledge doesn't hear him over his mad rush to pack up his things. "Eugene. Eugene, stop."
"Why? I'm obviously someone who's ju--"
Snafu's gone crazy--he's gone off the deep end because he grabs Sledge and crashes their mouths together and he's not even sure why. All he knows is that Sledge is leaving, and he'll never see him again and some part of him can't bear to live unless he’s tried it at least once. He lets go, backs away until he hits the table. He's fucked. Absolutely fucked.
Where the hell did that even come from?
Sledge closes his eyes, and the only sound is their breathing in the room.
He doesn't say sorry, can't find it in him too. Snafu doesn't beg him to stay either because his damn fool head agreed to this. Instead he lies back against the chair, waits for the last person he's ever let back into his life to finally leave, and focuses on breathing. It's an easier task then thinking about life without Sledge.
Sledge regards him from where Snafu had left him in the middle of the living room. He swallows, before opening his eyes and giving him a smile, a real one. Something that's brilliant and brings him back to before Okinawa and Peleliu: "I'm telling Father and Mother...that I want to stay here."
He walks toward Snafu slow and steady, until all Snafu can see is Sledge. They breathe in unison and Snafu find himself staring at lips too soft to be on a man. "That is, if you'll have me?"
Snafu's hearing pounding in his ears, from something different altogether, and he knows, can see it in Sledge's eyes that he's fucking grinning like a fucking kid. "Only if you put out as much as I want."
Sledge doesn't slap like the rest of the girls he's tried that on but he does roll his eyes and remark with a raised brow, "That's it, really?"
"You're already my damned wife in every other way," Snafu offers and Sledge just kisses him to shut him up. Snafu obliges.
They're far from perfect and this isn’t going to be easy and yet Snafu feels for the first time since returning that he's made the right decision. Hell, he's been through worse and he'd rather face it with Sledge before anyone else.
Title: Just enough
Pairing: Snafu/Sledge
Author: poutmeter
Characters: Merriell "Snafu" Shelton, Eugene Sledge
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Bromance Slash
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: I don't own The Pacific, nor do I mean any disrespect to the real men in K company, and their families. This is based on the actors' portrayal of real men in a fictional setting not the actual men themselves. Seriously the real Sledge and Snafu were two very heterosexual men, this is simply work of fiction based on characters of The Pacific.
Summary: Snafu opens the door and finds Sledge on his doorstep, not even close to the man he remembers him to be.
A/N: Fill for the pacifickink. I'm sorry if this isn't what you wanted OP, it kind of...went in its own direction again. Beta'd by binnin because she is awesome and puts up with my crap.
Snafu wakes up to the sound of pounding on his door one hot evening in July. It's a frantic drumming that he, being half-awake, almost thinks this is a dream and soon the Japs will come bursting through to bayonet him. He sits up when the knocking increases, cursing as he half-falls out of bed and stomps to the front door. He swings open the door to shoot down whoever has come to harass him when he's got work in three hours--and the words die in his throat.
Eugene Sledge is standing there, looking like some ghost of his past, complete with a hell-warmed-over expression. He looks like he's just about run the entire way there from Mobile. They stare at each other in silence for a few minutes before Sledge coughs. He makes a pitiful sight. Clothes thrown on haphazardly, bag on his back, and even in the dim light his expression looks grim.
"Can I come in?" It's soft, shaky, and Snafu can't help but wonder what the hell Sledge has been through that's got him like this. Instead, he moves aside and replies, even. "Sho' thing."
Inside, Sledge places his bag down on the floor, squinting as Snafu turns on the light. Sledge looks like shit; thinner and paler than Snafu last remembered. The sight makes him feel a little sick himself. Instead he demands, "Whatcha doin' here, Sledgehammer?"
They were supposed to have moved on, closed that chapter of their lives, yet here he was, sitting on Snafu's couch and looking just like the war was still going on.
"I...I don't know," Sledge admits. His eyes are preoccupied. "I just…I can't go home right now."
He fidgets with his hands, avoids Snafu's gaze in the face, he just looks so damn lost, that Snafu feels something tighten in his chest and even though he knows better, knows that he's hardly adapted himself, and knows where this conversation is going to end, he prompts: "So you took yo' show on the road?"
"I just--I needed to talk to someone who knew what I've been through." Sledge is raw, pleading; the need is openly upfront. "Something...something's wrong."
Snafu doesn't want to hear any more of it--can't--and interrupts, "You went a long way for just a talk."
Sledge winces and tries to offer a shaky smile, "Yeah, well, you don't make things exactly easy."
Snafu doesn't press, Sledge doesn't offer up anymore, and Snafu concludes the night is about lost, anyways.
"I don't got much. Nothing yo' used to anyway." He finally remarks, breaking out a lucky strike. "And yo' gonna have to clean this shit hole and earn yo' keep. Only got a couch besides my bed."
"I didn't expect anything otherwise," Sledge smiles at him for the first time in a long time, and he feels appeased.
Snafu makes the little coffee he has left, Sledge takes it and they do talk. It's small talk, and Snafu can feel that pinprick presence of something greater being hidden in their conversation, but overall, it soothes both of them. Snafu doesn't return to bed, but offers it to Sledge, who shakes his head, and gets up to start tidying the living room.
"I'm not one for sleep much anymore." It's matched with a grimace and a tired smile. Snafu leaves for work that morning, with Sledge watching him from the couch, all relief. He'd make a joke if the action hadn't been painful for some reason.
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He returns home to a clean apartment, all except his room. If it wasn't for previous knowledge about Sledge's grand lifestyle, Snafu would have thought his own mother had come in and scrubbed the place clean. Sledge looks sheepish, and offers: "I don't like staying still much."
Snafu snorts, placing down the dinner he bought from down the street on the table, the smell of chicken and spices filling the tiny room at the crinkle of the wrappers. Sledge could stand to eat a little more, damn if he isn't all skin and bones now. Sledge goes to the table at the smell, his stomach rumbles loudly and he looks away almost embarrassed.
"...Didn't you eat anythin'?" Snafu's been gone for at least a good ten hours. Sledge has been cleaning around the same amount of time. Sledge shakes his head and muttering something about not having much of an appetite. Snafu calls bullshit and rolls his eyes, pushing past him to get two beers from the fridge. He pushes it and one of the po' boys towards Sledge and plops down on his chair.
Snafu just uncorks his beer and watches Sledge unwrap the sandwich, staring at the size.
"Jesus, what'd they put in here? A whole alligator?"
Snafu snorts, taking another swig out of his bottle. "Dat's only on Mardi Gras," he replies, expression angelic. Sledge smiles slightly despite himself and they eat dinner in silence. Sledge ends up wolfing down his dinner in record time, Snafu smirks at the sight, and pushes the other sandwich towards him.
"You need it more than I do," It gets a glare, but Snafu just shrugs and lights a Lucky. "Just eat it, Eugene. Don't make me waste my money; ain't got a lot of it lyin’ around."
Eugene scowls, but obeys. Snafu fishes for another Lucky in his pockets.
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After dinner, Sledge cleans up, Snafu watches. It's clear Sledge still hasn't said what he wants to talk about but Snafu doesn't prompt. Sledge breaks out his pipe among his meager possessions and they sit in the dim light, smoking.
"Yo' old man know you gone?" Snafu prompts because he half expected to get a call at the lumberyard from Mr. Sledge himself. Sledge nods, taking a deep drag from his pipe. He lets out a smoke trail that engulfs them both like a fog.
"He knows." It's clipped and that's all Snafu gets from him on the matter.
Well, at least Snafu wasn't going to have the police knocking down his door anytime soon.
"Snafu," Distant memories of Okinawa flash in his mind at Sledge's voice, and Snafu keeps his eyes on his shrinking cigarette. "I can't go back to Mobile right now."
"'Figured that." Snafu keeps the curiosity out of his voice and nods. "Man's gotta do what he's gotta do."
There's something broken in Sledge's tone as he continues. The words tumble forward slowly at first but pick up pace: "I can't forget anything and it's driving me crazy. Why the hell did I make it?" Sledge gets up, pacing. Snafu watches though he grips his cigarette tighter than he means to.
"How the hell did I survive? Why am I the only one who's still thinking about it all even when the war's been over? And even Sid's moved on! Shit, Snafu--it's eating me alive and no one can do a fucking thing!" Sledge finishes with a sob, reeling back into the beat up cushions of the couch, hands crisscrossed over his eyes. Snafu watches, sighs, and nudges him with his elbow. Snafu's cigarette burns out finally, and leaves them in the dark.
"Shit Sledgehammer, I can't promise you anythin' right now, but sho' as hell you ain't the only one feelin' like dyin'." He lets Sledge sob into the cushions and rubs his back. He figures he's been pulling so many hours this week, the boss man will let him call in this once. Neither of them get much sleep that night anyways.
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Snafu makes breakfast the next morning while Sledge is taking a shower he focuses on what his grandma's taught him. Tries to remember what it was like when she'd add dashes of this and that and no matter what the day, he'd feel better. He remembered calling her a traiteur once and how she'd laughed it off and rubbed his head. He knows it’s a stupid idea, but the thought behind it isn't so bad. He fills up Sledge's plate and sets it down in front of him as soon as he gets to the table. Snafu may or may not have smiled when Sledge practically tore through the thing, muttering in confusion at why the hell was he such a good cook that Snafu took as praise anyway.
Sledge wasn't a pretty girl, but hell if he wasn't one of the only people Snafu understood and understood him.
And that makes him feel warmer than if some broad actually replied back to his catcalls.
He makes a note to go the grocery later, now that there were two of them, food was going to be a necessity instead of optional.
Especially if he wanted to work on getting Sledge better.
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The next few days following are equally dramatic, Sledge eating--even though forcibly at times-- has him falling asleep. Falling asleep is its own challenge as, just like with Snafu, he thrashes, cries, and screams while he sleeps and more often than not there's a thud or a loud shriek from the living room. Snafu isn't sure where his patience is coming from--well he does know but damned if he's going to say it. Things become easier to just have Sledge stay on the floor in his room at night.
He ends up on the floor at some point anyways, so they end up lying next to each other, with the bed being unused.
Snafu finds after a while, though, that Sledge's kicking and screaming subsides just the slightest when he's nearby. He doesn't ever tell Sledge about it though he does lay a hand on his forehead, wonder when he'd become an overgrown babysitter, and wait until the fit passes. He begins to get used to sleeping sitting up, it causes havoc to his back, but Sledge gets color in his cheeks, so it evens out.
Besides, back pain aside, he'd rather take that then a fitful sleepless night hounded by brief dreams that make it hard to even breathe.
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They fall into a kind of regiment and the days start to become repetitive. Their night terrors collectively don't stop, but they do subside enough for them to actually get some sleep. Sledge finally begins to look like a human being instead of some kind of skeleton and Snafu gets a decent amount of sleep--back pains aside.
Of course, a week passes, then two, and Snafu knows that it's going to end soon. He can't admit that Sledge is wearing away at him, in ways he was expecting some pretty, sassy girl with a nice ass to.
Sledge seems to know they're working on some kind of time limit because he begins to get anxious to leave some kind of trace on Snafu and his home. Snafu returns one day to find books on his empty shelf, and a clock on the wall. The day after, there's a potted plant on the kitchen table that Sledge tends to like a fucking pet.
Snafu snaps because separation's going to be that much more difficult but the words almost always die in his throat when Sledge gives him that small smile. And damn it if it's not criminal how Sledge is just making it harder and harder to picture life without him.
Days turn to weeks that turn to months.
Just when he feels of guard about the whole thing, just when he thinks maybe he can manage with whatever the hell they're doing: Snafu arrives home one night and Sledge is holding a letter in his hand. Snafu puts down dinner and waits, he feels brittle.
"My father and mother want me to come home. My two months are up." He keeps his eyes glued to the paper and swallows, "I promised them I would."
Snafu's throat feels dry. He reaches for the most tangible emotion that he can; he retreats to anger.
"Mom an' Pop gave you a nice little vacation, huh?" The sneer burns as it comes out. "They let you chase some man in New Orleans? They weren't expecting grandchildren, were they?"
It's a low blow and Sledge actually rises from the couch. Snafu doesn't wither under his gaze, tries to keep his grip on that hot, white heat. He should have known. Hell, he did know. And he'd welcomed Sledge back into his life all the same.
"I'm tired of playin' house with you anyways. Get the hell out, Sledge." The phrase is more biting than expected. But Sledge doesn't move; just keeps staring at him with burning eyes.
"That wasn't why I came here. I needed to talk to you." Sledge's voice rises and his jaw clenches. "You left me before I could even say goodbye."
Snafu feels a pang of guilt resound inside him but he clings to anger like a lifeline. Things weren't supposed to be like this. He should've continued on with his life the way it was. Should've never let Sledge in that first night. Should've never let hi--
"Fuck you, Merriell--you won't even admit I'm your friend," Sledge cuts in, voice sharp; pitch equally so. He moves towards him, stomping purposefully. "If you want me to leave that badly, then fine! I forced myself here, didn't I?"
Snafu's anger is getting harder to hold onto. He knows that Sledge showing up on his doorstep was pretty much the only thing that'd kept his mind off the war and its demons ever since he'd returned. It's been the closest that he's had to living in a while and it hurts. He needs to feel angry--needs to feel the pinprick shards of loneliness disappear. He feels like something's ripping inside him. No one will understand him anymore. He'd have no one to understand in return. It'd just be him, work, and this crumbling apartment.
Sledge turns away from him, lets out a restrained sigh. He's so mad he's shaking.
"Then I'll just leave you to your misery, then." The tone is so painfully reminiscent of Snafu's that he'd marvel if he didn't feel like there was static between his ears, like his damn heart was getting yanked out of his chest.
"Eugene," he finds himself saying. It's soft, so soft, that Sledge doesn't hear him over his mad rush to pack up his things. "Eugene. Eugene, stop."
"Why? I'm obviously someone who's ju--"
Snafu's gone crazy--he's gone off the deep end because he grabs Sledge and crashes their mouths together and he's not even sure why. All he knows is that Sledge is leaving, and he'll never see him again and some part of him can't bear to live unless he’s tried it at least once. He lets go, backs away until he hits the table. He's fucked. Absolutely fucked.
Where the hell did that even come from?
Sledge closes his eyes, and the only sound is their breathing in the room.
He doesn't say sorry, can't find it in him too. Snafu doesn't beg him to stay either because his damn fool head agreed to this. Instead he lies back against the chair, waits for the last person he's ever let back into his life to finally leave, and focuses on breathing. It's an easier task then thinking about life without Sledge.
Sledge regards him from where Snafu had left him in the middle of the living room. He swallows, before opening his eyes and giving him a smile, a real one. Something that's brilliant and brings him back to before Okinawa and Peleliu: "I'm telling Father and Mother...that I want to stay here."
He walks toward Snafu slow and steady, until all Snafu can see is Sledge. They breathe in unison and Snafu find himself staring at lips too soft to be on a man. "That is, if you'll have me?"
Snafu's hearing pounding in his ears, from something different altogether, and he knows, can see it in Sledge's eyes that he's fucking grinning like a fucking kid. "Only if you put out as much as I want."
Sledge doesn't slap like the rest of the girls he's tried that on but he does roll his eyes and remark with a raised brow, "That's it, really?"
"You're already my damned wife in every other way," Snafu offers and Sledge just kisses him to shut him up. Snafu obliges.
They're far from perfect and this isn’t going to be easy and yet Snafu feels for the first time since returning that he's made the right decision. Hell, he's been through worse and he'd rather face it with Sledge before anyone else.