The End of an Epic
Well, it's taken me two days short of a full year but the epic is finally complete. That's right, the Big Damn Modern Day AU of Doom is over! Kind of. Well, you'll see. Either way, thank you to everyone who's been reading and I hope you enjoy the last chapter. It's been swell.
Title: Nothing Says I Love You Like a Crowded Bar and a Dark Alleyway - Part Thirteen
Author: m_buggie
Fandom: “Band of Brothers”
Pairings: mentions of past Nixon/Cathy, a smattering of Harry/Kittie, attempted Buck/anyone with a pulse, mention of slight past Roe/Winters, eventual Nixon/Winters, implied Muck/Malarkey, oblique mention of Speirs/Lipton
Word Count: 2,674
Rating: R
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit and mean no disrespect so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: This is the Modern Day AU of Doom, and it is unabashedly inspired by the Finger Eleven song, “Paralyzer.” Written in honor of ladyames and with special thanks to foofighter0234, alouette_sparra, and melliyna.
~x~x~
Richard Winters had always done his best to live his life as unselfishly as possible. From the Boy Scouts to the Peace Corps, he’d felt like it was his duty to be an upstanding individual with strong morals and a firm work ethic who helped others whenever he could and asked nothing for himself. But tonight? Tonight Winters felt selfish. Tonight he wanted. It was throwing his whole world off-balance.
Usually he steered clear of confused semi-heterosexual men who were looking for a night of “experimentation” or were drunk enough to want to know what it’d be like to have intimate relations with another man. Winters generally made it a point that whenever he did go on dates it was only with men who were open and comfortable with their homosexuality because he had enough issues of his own and didn’t need anyone else’s baggage, thank you very much. And he definitely didn’t pick guys up in bars, didn’t consider getting involved with anyone that he’d only just met. Winters was typically very strict about adhering to these relationship guidelines…but that had all been before he made the acquaintanceship of Lewis Nixon, who somehow managed to be everything he wasn’t looking for while being the one thing that Winters found himself wanting more than anything.
The night was not going according to plan at all. And to think, going to The Coral Room had seemed like such a good idea in the beginning. Winters wasn’t too sure it was such a good idea now, when he was standing outside the crowded bar at the mouth of a dark alleyway with the aforementioned Lewis Nixon. In fact it was starting to seem like a bad idea, if only because Dick Winters - for all his virtues - was only human and not entirely immune to the temptation of particular vices. And while Winters’ list of vices was short enough to be counted on one hand and still have fingers left over, apparently Nixon was one of them. Nixon, it seemed, was at the top of said list.
Nixon, who was currently watching Winters with a loaded kind of expectation, waiting for an answer to his question.
Winters inwardly sighed. This was such a bad idea…and he’d made his peace with that. He didn’t have anything to lose except for maybe some pride and a little self-respect. But there was just no denying the attraction anymore.
So Winters rolled his shoulders, stretching, listening to the soft popping noises from where he was too tense, and told Nixon, “Gene and I dated for a little while but we’ve always been friends. I don’t know that he really gets close to anyone but we do talk a lot.”
The most interesting variety of expressions flickered through Nixon’s eyes even as he tried to keep his face a blank mask. He nodded and said, “I see, so eyeliner boy’s an ex of yours.”
Winters suppressed a chuckle at that and replied, “Like I said, the eyeliner is new. He never wore any of that when we were dating.”
“But he is an ex?” Nixon asked, an edge to his inquiry.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Winters remarked, shaking his head. “What happened between Gene and I…” He sighed, choosing his words carefully. “Things between us got a little emotionally confused for a period of time there and we crossed some lines that we probably would have been better off not crossing, but in the end I count him as my friend more than anything else. We were friends before we started dating and remained friends afterwards, everything that happened in between was all just incidental.”
Nixon nodded again, slower, absorbing the information and while, “huh,” was all he said, the spinning of cogs and gears in his head was practically visible from the outside. He took another drag off his cigarette and attempted to blow smoke rings.
“I could never be friends with my ex,” Nixon finally said.
“Your ex-wife?” Winters clarified, adding some emphasis on the “wife” bit, even if it was for his own sake.
“Yeah, her.” Nixon snorted in deprecatory amusement.
For lack of anything better to say, Winters uttered, “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything,” Nixon countered good-naturedly. “Besides, as far as I’m concerned this moment’s more of a ‘congratulations’ than a ‘sorry’ kind of thing.” He sighed. “I am going to miss the dog, though.”
Nixon laughed and Winters smirked.
Then suddenly they were at an impasse and Winters realized they could go no further without coming to one resolution or the other. Either Dick Winters said goodnight now and hopped a cab back to Brooklyn or he stayed and something possibly regrettable happened between him and the cute but confused straight guy in front of him.
Winters did not need one more thing to regret. He’d had enough of those during the course of his quarter-century life and as much as Winters genuinely liked and was attracted to the sarcastic man with the dark eyes and careless hair named Lewis Nixon, he didn’t want to complicate matters further for the guy. After all, hadn’t he just gotten divorced? It would’ve been ungentlemanly of Winters to put his own wants and needs ahead Nixon’s. Besides, Nixon wasn’t gay.
Although…
Lewis Nixon was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he was a little gay.
He wasn’t about to start wearing pink polo shirts or take a sudden deep interest in Broadway musicals. His slacks weren’t going to transform into gold lame hot pants and he wasn’t about to start talking with a pronounced lisp and a limp wrist. But maybe Nixon wasn’t quite as heterosexual as he’d previously thought himself to be.
Because he was standing outside The Coral Room with a tall redhead named Dick Winters whose eyes were the most magical shade of blue (no, green…no, gray) that seemed to shift as he spoke in that soft, almost hypnotic rasp of his - and Nixon was loving every moment of it. Yeah, it was new. Yeah, it scared the shit out of him. Yeah, it going to make Nixon re-evaluate his whole life and way of going about things but that could wait until he was sober so never mind. Whatever. Being around Dick Winters felt good.
And so what if maybe Nixon was more than a little drunk? Intoxication had never stopped him before. And sure, he was seething and bitter over the whole divorce thing but you know what? To hell with Cathy. She wasn’t the beginning of his life and she wasn’t going to be the end of it, either. Fuck it all, as a matter of fact. Lewis Nixon had a new friend and that made everything fine.
Nixon liked his new friend. He liked him a lot. He liked Winters so much that it gave him this funny flutter in his chest that he knew wasn’t heartburn or indigestion and a light-headed sensation which he was sure had nothing to do with the whisky because he’d felt all this before once, a long time ago, and Nixon was pretty damn sure it was love. Nixon was in love…with a man…which was a little gay, but felt kind of nice in spite of how much it freaked him out. Winters had that kind of effect on Nixon: like being drunk but without the alcohol. Nixon smiled at that thought. He’d forgotten what love felt like.
“Uh-oh,” Winters commented, smirking mildly with one eyebrow arching. “Something tells me that smile heralds nothing but trouble.”
“That’s the story, anyway,” Nixon replied, grinning wider.
Winters knew that if he didn’t remove himself from the situation immediately his self-control wouldn’t stand a chance against that charming smile so cleared his throat and said, “Well, Lewis, it’s been lovely talking to you…”
Actually, Winters never got past the word, “it’s,” because Nixon chose that moment to step forward, grab him by the lapels of his jacket, and seal their lips together in an awkward but fervent kiss. Winters forgot how to breathe for a moment.
“Wait, no, stop,” Winters gasped out, after having taken hold of Nixon by the shoulders and forcing their mouths apart. “We can’t do this.”
Nixon shook his head, somewhere between blissed-out and bewildered, “Why? Are you seeing someone?”
“No, not at the moment.”
“Well, neither am I so what’s the problem?”
“You just got divorced.”
“Today.” Nixon glanced at his watch. “Yesterday,” he amended. “What’s your point?”
“You were married to a woman.”
“And?”
Winters sighed heavily. “Nix, you’re straight. I’m gay. That’s my point.”
Nixon just blinked. His hands had released Winters’ lapels but were now sliding - softly, slowly - down the redhead’s chest and abs, moving around that trim waist and settling on the curve of the taller man’s back. “I don’t think I’m that straight anymore,” he said.
As enticing as Nixon’s touch was, Winters commanded his brain to maintain higher thought functions and declared, “Being bitter about your ex-wife is not sufficient grounds to suddenly decide that you’re a homosexual.”
“What about love at first sight?” Nixon asked.
Winters felt something crackle and start to burn in his brain. This night was most definitely not going according to plan. “What?” was all he could respond with.
“You had me questioning my sexuality the moment I first laid eyes on you,” Nixon confessed, his fingers tracing lazy circles on Winter’s back. “I puked in the bathroom after that because I was so fucking freaked. But now? Now I think I’m okay with things. Because I like you, Dick, I really like you.”
“I really like you, too,” Winters admitted.
“So shut up and kiss me.”
Winters struggled to formulate a proper reply to that but every man has his breaking point. “Ah Christ…” he muttered and shoved Nixon up against the side of the building, kissing him with all the repressed want and need he’d been carrying around with him since their eyes first met across the bar.
Mouths opened and tongues twined. The kiss was hot and aggressive with teeth and bumping chins and noses. Fingers curled tight into clothes, then let go as hands roamed along shoulders, thighs, backs, and asses. The two young men shifted, aligned, and suddenly they were rocking against one another in a loose rhythm.
It was Winters who pulled away first, sucking in air like he’d just run three miles up and three miles down a small mountain. “Wait, stop,” he said between inhales and exhales. “We can’t do this.”
Nixon gave a frustrated groan and whined, “What? Why? Why not? I like you, you like me, we were kissing. Why’d you stop?”
“You’re drunk,” Winters pointed out.
“I generally am, yeah,” Nixon said with a shrug. “So what?”
“I don’t want to do this while you’re not in full possession of all your facilities.”
“My facilities are just fine, thank you very much.”
Winters smirked and chuckled under his breath. “I do like you,” he said, reaching out and brushing his knuckles against Nixon’s cheek. The touch was electrifying for them both. “I like you a lot. Which is why I don’t want to ruin things.”
“So you’re not going to kiss me anymore?” Nixon asked, utterly befuddled.
Winters withdrew his hand and started searching through his pockets. “Three days,” he stated.
“What?”
“Three days,” Winters repeated, finding his cell phone. “If - after you’ve sobered up in the morning - you decide that you still want to see me, give me a call in three days. Now then, what’s your phone number?”
Nixon still looked skeptical and upset with the turn of events but produced on of his business cards regardless.
Winters grinned, looking at the card, and read aloud, “Lewis Nixon, Cynical Bastard.”
“I believe in truth in advertising,” Nixon commented with a smirk.
Winters chuckled under his breath and dialed in the number on the card. A few moments later, Nixon’s cell phone went off to the tune of “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by The Rolling Stones.
“Now you have my number,” Winters said, putting his phone away. “If you’re still interested, call me in three days.”
Nixon nodded, eyes a little glazed over but his smile open and genuine. “Three days. Okay. I can do that.”
“Goodnight, Lewis Nixon.” Winters smiled, coy in his formality.
Nixon’s grin only brightened. “Goodnight, Dick Winters.”
They shook hands at first but that soon dissolved into hand-holding and another kiss. It was almost chaste compared to their earlier lip-lock but the affection and passion remained, sizzling just below the surface.
“I hope to hear from you,” Winters remarked as he pulled away, took a step back.
“Oh, you will,” Nixon assured him, leaning against the wall and gazing at the other young man like the secrets of the universe had just been revealed to him.
Dick Winters gifted him with one last smile and then strode away.
Lewis Nixon sighed and tilted his head back, laughing quietly as he closed his eyes. He stayed like that for some time before a familiar voice called out.
“You’re still here?”
Nixon looked over and shrugged. “This building’s not going to hold itself up.”
Buck Compton nodded sagely and walked over to where his friend stood. “Right, of course; that’s real noble of you, Nix, shouldering the burden all by yourself.”
“I know, I think I deserve a medal for my sacrifices.”
Buck laughed. “Sure, pal, whatever you say.”
“Well, I guess we ought to head back in and square things away with the bar tab,” Nixon said, shoving off and heading back towards the entrance of The Coral Room.
“Already taken care of that,” Buck responded.
Nixon paused, looked at the other man. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”
“Wow. Thank you, Buck.”
Buck waved it all away. “Don’t mention it. Besides, you just got your sorry ass dumped. What kind of a jackass would I be to make you pay for your own drinks tonight?”
They chortled about it. Lewis Nixon and Buck Compton hadn’t always gotten along but at the end of the day they were still friends, just as they were now.
“Well, Harry’s already head home and things are winding down here so I think I’ll call it a night,” Buck announced. “Sorry we couldn’t get you laid tonight.”
“That’s okay,” Nixon said. “I think I might’ve met someone anyway.”
Buck’s eyebrows moved up towards his hairline. “Really?”
Nixon laughed, uncharacteristically shy about it. “Yeah.”
“Good for you.” Buck punched Nixon playfully in the arm. “You move fast. Talk about a smooth operator.”
“I think I’m in love.”
At which point Buck let out a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh. “Oh God, not you, too. I wasn’t surprised at Harry babbling about love but I’d expected more from you.”
“Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a crowded bar and a dark alleyway,” Nixon sighed.
“What?”
Nixon shook his head, chuckling. “Nothing. Thanks again for the night out, Buck.”
“Like I said, don’t mention it. I owed you anyway.”
“Yeah, you probably did. Want to split a cab?”
Buck smiled and shook his head. “No thanks, I’m already splitting a ride with someone.” He winked. “She calls herself Ambrosia.”
“Jesus Christ.” Nixon rolled his eyes. “All right then, you have fun with that.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
Buck Compton and Lewis Nixon shook hands one final time that night, gave each other a manly hug, and then parted company.
And as Buck’s cab sped off into the night, Nixon hazarded a look at his cell phone and the brand new number listed on the recent calls menu. He smiled as fear, exhilaration, and a thousand other things coursed through his system all at once. He saved the number and felt warm satisfaction at typing in the name Dick Winters. Phone back in his pocket, Nixon brushed fingertips against his mouth, recalling the feel of Winters’ lips pressed there.
This was going to be the longest three days of his life.
The End.
(cross-posted to camp_toccoa and no_vices)
Title: Nothing Says I Love You Like a Crowded Bar and a Dark Alleyway - Part Thirteen
Author: m_buggie
Fandom: “Band of Brothers”
Pairings: mentions of past Nixon/Cathy, a smattering of Harry/Kittie, attempted Buck/anyone with a pulse, mention of slight past Roe/Winters, eventual Nixon/Winters, implied Muck/Malarkey, oblique mention of Speirs/Lipton
Word Count: 2,674
Rating: R
Standard Disclaimer: This is based off performances in the HBO miniseries, not the actual soldiers. The only thing I own is the computer I wrote this on. I make no profit and mean no disrespect so please don’t sue.
Author’s Note: This is the Modern Day AU of Doom, and it is unabashedly inspired by the Finger Eleven song, “Paralyzer.” Written in honor of ladyames and with special thanks to foofighter0234, alouette_sparra, and melliyna.
~x~x~
Richard Winters had always done his best to live his life as unselfishly as possible. From the Boy Scouts to the Peace Corps, he’d felt like it was his duty to be an upstanding individual with strong morals and a firm work ethic who helped others whenever he could and asked nothing for himself. But tonight? Tonight Winters felt selfish. Tonight he wanted. It was throwing his whole world off-balance.
Usually he steered clear of confused semi-heterosexual men who were looking for a night of “experimentation” or were drunk enough to want to know what it’d be like to have intimate relations with another man. Winters generally made it a point that whenever he did go on dates it was only with men who were open and comfortable with their homosexuality because he had enough issues of his own and didn’t need anyone else’s baggage, thank you very much. And he definitely didn’t pick guys up in bars, didn’t consider getting involved with anyone that he’d only just met. Winters was typically very strict about adhering to these relationship guidelines…but that had all been before he made the acquaintanceship of Lewis Nixon, who somehow managed to be everything he wasn’t looking for while being the one thing that Winters found himself wanting more than anything.
The night was not going according to plan at all. And to think, going to The Coral Room had seemed like such a good idea in the beginning. Winters wasn’t too sure it was such a good idea now, when he was standing outside the crowded bar at the mouth of a dark alleyway with the aforementioned Lewis Nixon. In fact it was starting to seem like a bad idea, if only because Dick Winters - for all his virtues - was only human and not entirely immune to the temptation of particular vices. And while Winters’ list of vices was short enough to be counted on one hand and still have fingers left over, apparently Nixon was one of them. Nixon, it seemed, was at the top of said list.
Nixon, who was currently watching Winters with a loaded kind of expectation, waiting for an answer to his question.
Winters inwardly sighed. This was such a bad idea…and he’d made his peace with that. He didn’t have anything to lose except for maybe some pride and a little self-respect. But there was just no denying the attraction anymore.
So Winters rolled his shoulders, stretching, listening to the soft popping noises from where he was too tense, and told Nixon, “Gene and I dated for a little while but we’ve always been friends. I don’t know that he really gets close to anyone but we do talk a lot.”
The most interesting variety of expressions flickered through Nixon’s eyes even as he tried to keep his face a blank mask. He nodded and said, “I see, so eyeliner boy’s an ex of yours.”
Winters suppressed a chuckle at that and replied, “Like I said, the eyeliner is new. He never wore any of that when we were dating.”
“But he is an ex?” Nixon asked, an edge to his inquiry.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Winters remarked, shaking his head. “What happened between Gene and I…” He sighed, choosing his words carefully. “Things between us got a little emotionally confused for a period of time there and we crossed some lines that we probably would have been better off not crossing, but in the end I count him as my friend more than anything else. We were friends before we started dating and remained friends afterwards, everything that happened in between was all just incidental.”
Nixon nodded again, slower, absorbing the information and while, “huh,” was all he said, the spinning of cogs and gears in his head was practically visible from the outside. He took another drag off his cigarette and attempted to blow smoke rings.
“I could never be friends with my ex,” Nixon finally said.
“Your ex-wife?” Winters clarified, adding some emphasis on the “wife” bit, even if it was for his own sake.
“Yeah, her.” Nixon snorted in deprecatory amusement.
For lack of anything better to say, Winters uttered, “I’m sorry.”
“What are you sorry for? You didn’t do anything,” Nixon countered good-naturedly. “Besides, as far as I’m concerned this moment’s more of a ‘congratulations’ than a ‘sorry’ kind of thing.” He sighed. “I am going to miss the dog, though.”
Nixon laughed and Winters smirked.
Then suddenly they were at an impasse and Winters realized they could go no further without coming to one resolution or the other. Either Dick Winters said goodnight now and hopped a cab back to Brooklyn or he stayed and something possibly regrettable happened between him and the cute but confused straight guy in front of him.
Winters did not need one more thing to regret. He’d had enough of those during the course of his quarter-century life and as much as Winters genuinely liked and was attracted to the sarcastic man with the dark eyes and careless hair named Lewis Nixon, he didn’t want to complicate matters further for the guy. After all, hadn’t he just gotten divorced? It would’ve been ungentlemanly of Winters to put his own wants and needs ahead Nixon’s. Besides, Nixon wasn’t gay.
Although…
Lewis Nixon was starting to think that maybe, just maybe, he was a little gay.
He wasn’t about to start wearing pink polo shirts or take a sudden deep interest in Broadway musicals. His slacks weren’t going to transform into gold lame hot pants and he wasn’t about to start talking with a pronounced lisp and a limp wrist. But maybe Nixon wasn’t quite as heterosexual as he’d previously thought himself to be.
Because he was standing outside The Coral Room with a tall redhead named Dick Winters whose eyes were the most magical shade of blue (no, green…no, gray) that seemed to shift as he spoke in that soft, almost hypnotic rasp of his - and Nixon was loving every moment of it. Yeah, it was new. Yeah, it scared the shit out of him. Yeah, it going to make Nixon re-evaluate his whole life and way of going about things but that could wait until he was sober so never mind. Whatever. Being around Dick Winters felt good.
And so what if maybe Nixon was more than a little drunk? Intoxication had never stopped him before. And sure, he was seething and bitter over the whole divorce thing but you know what? To hell with Cathy. She wasn’t the beginning of his life and she wasn’t going to be the end of it, either. Fuck it all, as a matter of fact. Lewis Nixon had a new friend and that made everything fine.
Nixon liked his new friend. He liked him a lot. He liked Winters so much that it gave him this funny flutter in his chest that he knew wasn’t heartburn or indigestion and a light-headed sensation which he was sure had nothing to do with the whisky because he’d felt all this before once, a long time ago, and Nixon was pretty damn sure it was love. Nixon was in love…with a man…which was a little gay, but felt kind of nice in spite of how much it freaked him out. Winters had that kind of effect on Nixon: like being drunk but without the alcohol. Nixon smiled at that thought. He’d forgotten what love felt like.
“Uh-oh,” Winters commented, smirking mildly with one eyebrow arching. “Something tells me that smile heralds nothing but trouble.”
“That’s the story, anyway,” Nixon replied, grinning wider.
Winters knew that if he didn’t remove himself from the situation immediately his self-control wouldn’t stand a chance against that charming smile so cleared his throat and said, “Well, Lewis, it’s been lovely talking to you…”
Actually, Winters never got past the word, “it’s,” because Nixon chose that moment to step forward, grab him by the lapels of his jacket, and seal their lips together in an awkward but fervent kiss. Winters forgot how to breathe for a moment.
“Wait, no, stop,” Winters gasped out, after having taken hold of Nixon by the shoulders and forcing their mouths apart. “We can’t do this.”
Nixon shook his head, somewhere between blissed-out and bewildered, “Why? Are you seeing someone?”
“No, not at the moment.”
“Well, neither am I so what’s the problem?”
“You just got divorced.”
“Today.” Nixon glanced at his watch. “Yesterday,” he amended. “What’s your point?”
“You were married to a woman.”
“And?”
Winters sighed heavily. “Nix, you’re straight. I’m gay. That’s my point.”
Nixon just blinked. His hands had released Winters’ lapels but were now sliding - softly, slowly - down the redhead’s chest and abs, moving around that trim waist and settling on the curve of the taller man’s back. “I don’t think I’m that straight anymore,” he said.
As enticing as Nixon’s touch was, Winters commanded his brain to maintain higher thought functions and declared, “Being bitter about your ex-wife is not sufficient grounds to suddenly decide that you’re a homosexual.”
“What about love at first sight?” Nixon asked.
Winters felt something crackle and start to burn in his brain. This night was most definitely not going according to plan. “What?” was all he could respond with.
“You had me questioning my sexuality the moment I first laid eyes on you,” Nixon confessed, his fingers tracing lazy circles on Winter’s back. “I puked in the bathroom after that because I was so fucking freaked. But now? Now I think I’m okay with things. Because I like you, Dick, I really like you.”
“I really like you, too,” Winters admitted.
“So shut up and kiss me.”
Winters struggled to formulate a proper reply to that but every man has his breaking point. “Ah Christ…” he muttered and shoved Nixon up against the side of the building, kissing him with all the repressed want and need he’d been carrying around with him since their eyes first met across the bar.
Mouths opened and tongues twined. The kiss was hot and aggressive with teeth and bumping chins and noses. Fingers curled tight into clothes, then let go as hands roamed along shoulders, thighs, backs, and asses. The two young men shifted, aligned, and suddenly they were rocking against one another in a loose rhythm.
It was Winters who pulled away first, sucking in air like he’d just run three miles up and three miles down a small mountain. “Wait, stop,” he said between inhales and exhales. “We can’t do this.”
Nixon gave a frustrated groan and whined, “What? Why? Why not? I like you, you like me, we were kissing. Why’d you stop?”
“You’re drunk,” Winters pointed out.
“I generally am, yeah,” Nixon said with a shrug. “So what?”
“I don’t want to do this while you’re not in full possession of all your facilities.”
“My facilities are just fine, thank you very much.”
Winters smirked and chuckled under his breath. “I do like you,” he said, reaching out and brushing his knuckles against Nixon’s cheek. The touch was electrifying for them both. “I like you a lot. Which is why I don’t want to ruin things.”
“So you’re not going to kiss me anymore?” Nixon asked, utterly befuddled.
Winters withdrew his hand and started searching through his pockets. “Three days,” he stated.
“What?”
“Three days,” Winters repeated, finding his cell phone. “If - after you’ve sobered up in the morning - you decide that you still want to see me, give me a call in three days. Now then, what’s your phone number?”
Nixon still looked skeptical and upset with the turn of events but produced on of his business cards regardless.
Winters grinned, looking at the card, and read aloud, “Lewis Nixon, Cynical Bastard.”
“I believe in truth in advertising,” Nixon commented with a smirk.
Winters chuckled under his breath and dialed in the number on the card. A few moments later, Nixon’s cell phone went off to the tune of “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by The Rolling Stones.
“Now you have my number,” Winters said, putting his phone away. “If you’re still interested, call me in three days.”
Nixon nodded, eyes a little glazed over but his smile open and genuine. “Three days. Okay. I can do that.”
“Goodnight, Lewis Nixon.” Winters smiled, coy in his formality.
Nixon’s grin only brightened. “Goodnight, Dick Winters.”
They shook hands at first but that soon dissolved into hand-holding and another kiss. It was almost chaste compared to their earlier lip-lock but the affection and passion remained, sizzling just below the surface.
“I hope to hear from you,” Winters remarked as he pulled away, took a step back.
“Oh, you will,” Nixon assured him, leaning against the wall and gazing at the other young man like the secrets of the universe had just been revealed to him.
Dick Winters gifted him with one last smile and then strode away.
Lewis Nixon sighed and tilted his head back, laughing quietly as he closed his eyes. He stayed like that for some time before a familiar voice called out.
“You’re still here?”
Nixon looked over and shrugged. “This building’s not going to hold itself up.”
Buck Compton nodded sagely and walked over to where his friend stood. “Right, of course; that’s real noble of you, Nix, shouldering the burden all by yourself.”
“I know, I think I deserve a medal for my sacrifices.”
Buck laughed. “Sure, pal, whatever you say.”
“Well, I guess we ought to head back in and square things away with the bar tab,” Nixon said, shoving off and heading back towards the entrance of The Coral Room.
“Already taken care of that,” Buck responded.
Nixon paused, looked at the other man. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, don’t worry about it.”
“Wow. Thank you, Buck.”
Buck waved it all away. “Don’t mention it. Besides, you just got your sorry ass dumped. What kind of a jackass would I be to make you pay for your own drinks tonight?”
They chortled about it. Lewis Nixon and Buck Compton hadn’t always gotten along but at the end of the day they were still friends, just as they were now.
“Well, Harry’s already head home and things are winding down here so I think I’ll call it a night,” Buck announced. “Sorry we couldn’t get you laid tonight.”
“That’s okay,” Nixon said. “I think I might’ve met someone anyway.”
Buck’s eyebrows moved up towards his hairline. “Really?”
Nixon laughed, uncharacteristically shy about it. “Yeah.”
“Good for you.” Buck punched Nixon playfully in the arm. “You move fast. Talk about a smooth operator.”
“I think I’m in love.”
At which point Buck let out a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh. “Oh God, not you, too. I wasn’t surprised at Harry babbling about love but I’d expected more from you.”
“Nothing says ‘I love you’ like a crowded bar and a dark alleyway,” Nixon sighed.
“What?”
Nixon shook his head, chuckling. “Nothing. Thanks again for the night out, Buck.”
“Like I said, don’t mention it. I owed you anyway.”
“Yeah, you probably did. Want to split a cab?”
Buck smiled and shook his head. “No thanks, I’m already splitting a ride with someone.” He winked. “She calls herself Ambrosia.”
“Jesus Christ.” Nixon rolled his eyes. “All right then, you have fun with that.”
“Oh, I intend to.”
Buck Compton and Lewis Nixon shook hands one final time that night, gave each other a manly hug, and then parted company.
And as Buck’s cab sped off into the night, Nixon hazarded a look at his cell phone and the brand new number listed on the recent calls menu. He smiled as fear, exhilaration, and a thousand other things coursed through his system all at once. He saved the number and felt warm satisfaction at typing in the name Dick Winters. Phone back in his pocket, Nixon brushed fingertips against his mouth, recalling the feel of Winters’ lips pressed there.
This was going to be the longest three days of his life.
The End.
(cross-posted to camp_toccoa and no_vices)