Fic: Uneasy Threads
Title: Threads
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Snafu/Sledge
Disclaimer: Based on the fictional representations, not the actual namesakes, as portrayed on HBO's The Pacific
Summary: Of all the places, imagined or otherwise, in which Eugene Sledge existed inside Snafu’s mind, none of them even remotely resembled Chatom, Alabama’s town square.
Thank you to my beta elizabethisboss !
Snafu knew what worked and he stuck to it. If you see a Jap, you pull the trigger. If you hit a man in the skull for long enough, he’ll stop breathing. If you need to shit, you don’t do it at night. If you sneered with enough bravado, some day you might reach that the point where their greying corpses no longer turned your insides upside down.
Snafu had fought tooth and nail against names and hometowns. He won everytime. It was a lopsided fight in his favor, an advantage he didn't mind. That was all before some flimsy, thin-skinned skeleton named Eugene from Mobile, Alabama ducked into his tent.
It started out dutifully with “taken”, then progressed to a direct and efficient “you." Once the kid survived a few more months he gave him “Sledge”, then “Sledgehammer” and by the time Snafu had easily slipped into“Gene," he realized what had happened all too late.
They would share a shitty little puddle of mud together where Snafu rested the two-ton weight of his head against Sledge. A few stray flares bleached the cloudless night sky. Sledge would turn to face him. Their hands, hands that were unoccupied by guns, would almost brush. This was all Snafu had. His strained link to sanity had been reduced to Gene.
It had been reduced to the gentle thud of Sledge’s helmet that Snafu felt more than heard against his own, when Sledge’s neck became too tired to hold the weight any longer.
One day, (if it could be called that, hours sliding together, slippery with too much blood, Jap blood, their blood) a particularly deafening explosion ripped open the landscape. It fazed him less than the silence. The lingering silences were unpredictable. His helmet jittered, danced against his skull. Bone collided with bone inside his mouth. His eyes instinctively sought out the pale line of Sledge’s nose beside him, or a wisp of orange hair. A sea of indistinct, frightened faces met him instead. He anxiously scanned the hills of mud but there was no sign of Gene as the men scrambled forward.
Only when Sledge a familiar grip take hold of his arm did he remember to breathe.
__
Of all the places, imagined or otherwise, in which Eugene Sledge existed inside Snafu’s mind, none of them even remotely resembled Chatom, Alabama’s town square.
The backdrop of clean streets and cheerfully painted storefronts was jarring. When Snafu had agreed to take this delivery, he’d taken note of the Alabama address with something irrational like hope stirring inside his belly. He’d cursed himself, squeezing his eyes shut and seeing orange, auburn, and taking another drink.
Now Snafu blinked back the overwhelming strangeness. Snafu looked into the other man’s face for the first time in two years.
“You son of a bitch,” Eugene (not Sledge or Sledgehammer here) shouted hoarsely. He was wholly alive, breathing, “What’re you doing outta Louisiana?”
“Takin’ a shipment,” Snafu mumbled from behind his cigarette. His mouth had gone lazy and words were suddenly an insurmountable obstacle for his tongue. “Guess I could ask same’a you, Mobile.”
Eugene's eyes (his lips) were wider, darker than Snafu had remembered. He hated it. “Oh yea, just visiting Diane here’s parents.” His facial expression abruptly shifted, “Oh shit! Don’t know what I was thinking, I’m so sorry. Diane! I want you to meet somebody. Diane Norville, Merriell Shelton. We were in the same division…”
A young girl in a pretty lilac dress stepped forward with a shy smile.
The girl looked almost translucent in the sunlight, weakened by years of proper upbringing and cotillion balls. Her lips stretched thin and sweet like saltwater taffy.
She hesitated, unnerved by the predatory, appraising sweep of his gaze. “Merriell, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you,” she at last extended a gloved hand, “Eugene’s told me so many stories…”
Snafu’s derisive snort cut her off. Their eyes, two heavy stones dropped in the middle of an otherwise serene, placid afternoon.
“I just tryin’ ta make sure this fuck up didn’ git his ass handed to ‘im,” Snafu smirked, slow and irreverent. Eugene grimaced through his smile. Diane merely looked unsure.
“Meant to say, pleasures all mine,” he finally took her hand and kissed it with every inch of charm he possessed, “Gotta say, girl like you deserve a real man, ain’t got time fo’ these table scraps ya yourself got here.” He winked in her direction. This finally earned him a giggle. Straightening himself up he added,“Well, was stoppin’ for gas s’all. Bett’a get the truck.” He faltered only slightly as he nodded a curt farewell in their direction. The beginnings of a headache had blossomed into a true, pure pain.
Before he could put a proper distance between them, Diane chimed in, “Oh Mr. Shelton! It would be a shame if you didn’t stay with us for the night. A friend of Gene’s is a friend of ours after all!”
He turned and lingered between Eugene and Diane, “Ain’t no need, truck works just fine.”
It was Eugene who responded, clearing his throat, “Really, there’s plenty of extra beds, if you don’t have a place set up-”
“I insist! You have to, I couldn’t bare the thought of you sleeping in some old truck when we have perfectly good rooms at home!” Diane cut in, delighted as the reunion unfolding by her hand.
“Never could say no t’a pretty lady,” Snafu conceded in good humor, carefully avoiding Eugene.
___
A knock at the door ricocheted through the otherwise hushed Norville home some time around midnight.
Eugene dropped the dusty hardback he’d had in his lap and cursed under his breath. Pushing aside the storm door, his eyes fell on a familiar figure leaning against a great white porch column.
Snafu stood backlit by the porch lights, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, as if donned with some kind of perverted halo.
“You wouldn’t bother showing up at a decent hour, would you?” Sledge chided by way of greeting, putting on a show of displeasure though his tone was light with relief.
“Gotta keep ‘em on their toes Sledgehammer,” he grinned, pushing his way inside. Eugene tried to ignore the smell of whiskey on his clothes. “Missed mom ‘n pop? Am I late for supper?”
“You’re an ungrateful bastard, you know that right?”
They moved in relative silence once inside, only disturbed by the occasional mocking whistle from Snafu as they passed particularly expensive looking pieces of art lining the walls.
Eugene finally waved him into the guest bedroom. Linen sheets were perfectly folded into crisp submission. Fresh doilies graced the bedside table. Snafu ceremoniously tossed his ratty knapsack onto the immaculate bed. The scene instantly brought to mind their first meeting. Eugene could almost smell the sweat soaked bodies stewing under that godforsaken island sun.
They soon abandoned for the breathing room of the porch. Snafu looked out towards the yard, tapping out two cigarettes from the crumpled box in his pocket. He dangled the second one as a casual invitation but Eugene shook his head, holding up his pipe. The cicada’s rhythmic screech beat against the surrounding blackness, not unlike the noise of the jungle at night.
Snafu’s protruding lips and deep-set eyes remained angled towards the black. Minutes passed without either peaking.
“Gene?” his tone came out unexpectedly cautious.
Since their years apart Sledge had grown unused to the weight of Snafu’s eyes on him. It was now an ache that he could feel over his entire body.
“Yea?”
“Always meant to, ya know, ring or somethin’,” he avoided the man’s face in favor of the stars visible between pockets of clouds. “Didn’ seem right though, tryin’ ta write all that shit down.” He looked back up with a wavering smile, “Ain’t no Billy Shakespeare like you Gene.”
His gravely voice was strung tight, waiting for Sledge’s validation. No response came. Even after two years it still felt too loaded.
Snafu could have told him how he almost hadn’t even gotten off the damn train. He could have confessed that if he’d gotten too good’a look at Gene that he’d have followed him straight to Alabama.
“That’s for sure,” Eugene laughed dismissively. Neither pressed further.
Their natural give-and-take rhythm of conversation began to settle back in. Snafu’s mere presence felt like all the empathy Eugene had ever needed. Fireflies popped in and out of the dark like a maddening game of hide and seek. Their coy lights flickered endlessly between the sharp blades of grass.
“Think you got time before you leave Chatom?” Sledge finally ventured on the precipice of a larger question.
“Just might,” Snafu released a stream of smoke, “Watcha got in mind?”
“How’d you feel about staying for awhile tomorrow, maybe coming to service with us?”
“Didn’ exactly pack my Sunday’s best,” Snafu motioned to his short-sleeved tee, clinging small of his back with sweat. “Anyways, they’ll be missin’ me back at the yard,”
___
Dust motes and sunshine streamed from the high peaked windows lining the walls. The entire whitewashed interior of the chapel shone, glorious with late morning sun. The straight backs of the pews pointed heavenward and their dark stain glistened like saintly tears. Snafu watched a fly beat its frantic body in vain against a nearby windowpane as Sledge held the yellowed, leather hymnbook between them.
His blue eyes scanned the congregation before landing on Eugene. His lips opened and closed to the rhythm of hymns memorized in childhood. At last the pastor motioned for the men, women and children to take their seats.
The pastor’s extra skin underneath his chin flapped with excitement as he addressed the crowd with fervor. His voice echoed down the aisle, bolstered by the thrill of a captive audience, “Can I get a hallelujah for the Good Lord?” Scattered shouts rose up from the crowd. “Brothers and sisters, what have we really given of ourselves for the good Lord Jesus Christ lately? Are we sittin’ here idly by in these times of change and corruption? Roman’s twelve reads: ‘I beseech you therefore, brethren, -by the mercies of God- that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service!’ -”
A rustling caused Eugene to turn, only to see Snafu shoving past the outstretched knees of his pew. Eugene immediately rose to follow. He whispered apologies while trying to tune out the rising disapproval. Every stare burned at the back of his neck. Diane and her parents gaped, red with shock.
Outside, Sledge found Snafu gazing up at the clouds, cigarette returned to its rightful place between his lips. He had already managed to free himself from the confines of his suit. His jacket now hung limp and lifeless over his elbow. His sleeves were balled up around his forearms. He didn’t acknowledge Eugene at first, simply fixated on the wisps of cottony-white within the blue. Both men stared at a blurry, dark shape in the distance, aimlessly circling in the sky.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Sledge cocked his head in the direction of the road.
“Like ta see that Jesus blow up a goddamn Jap,” Snafu grumbled.
___
Their feet kicked up dirt in clouds along the side of the road. Loose ties swung side to side with each step, lazy around their necks like ropes on a tire swing.
Eugene glanced once more at the miniature drawings of fish on Snafu’s tie and smiled. Both he and Diane’s father had a number of options for Snafu to choose from, yet he’d insisted on this particular tie. He privately believed it was just to see the look of disdain on Diane’s face.
Eugene continued to watch Snafu, the man whose eyes rarely left him. He had literally grown up with Sidney, but this was the man with whom he’d lost his innocence. Snafu had become his closest friend through horrors that changed a person more than mere years, education or marriage ever could.
“Hey how long we got left ‘til that swimmin’ hole’a yours? Fryin’ like an egg on’a pan, ova here,”
Eugene squinted up the road, “Just a little further I think. Diane said something about a blue silo. If it’s too much for your delicate sensibilities though, you might still be able to turn back,” he nudged playfully at Snafu’s shoulder.
“Fuck righ’ off,” Snafu grinned, momentarily leaning into the offered contact.
The smell of hot manure and grass filled their nostrils as they passed another fenced pasture. A few dappled cows peered out from their coveted patches of shade.
“There it is!” Sledge suddenly crowed, hopping to quicken his pace. He could already feel the cool water at his blistered ankles. Snafu broke into a run close behind. Dress shoes made the entire affair that much more comical, sliding through the dust.
Once at the clearing, Eugene began the process of undressing without hesitation. Expensive wool socks and painstakingly pleated slacks were discarded in a shapeless pile on a bed of dry leaves and clay. Stripped to his boxer shorts, already giddy with relief, he threw a glanced around his shoulder at Snafu.
Snafu stood motionless, the ridiculous tie still dangling lifeless from his fingers. Only his dress shirt and loafers had been removed.
“What’re you waiting for?” Sledge shouted, the corners of his mouth only slipping slightly as realization dawned on him.
Snafu somehow hadn’t been prepared for this. It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar sight. Every marine eventually abandoned the uniform shirts in their forlorn attempts to escape the suffocating temperatures. Yet even without the fabric, the heat lay on them like a second skin. It had always been with a hollowed, hungry belly, the threat of disease and death lurking in every scratch. Black and blue and red and yellow meant ugly reminders of pain and fear. At one point he was even able to count the individual ribs lining Sledge’s torso. Now he stood there, laughing, an endless drink of pale skin, untouched by starvation, colored only by flushed cheeks and benign freckles. Snafu’s head spun faster.
Eugene’s hands were suddenly on him, tugging him towards the water. Before he could get any sort of proper traction, Snafu went tumbling into the cool, murky pool.
His world turned to fuzzy fragments of light and distorted noise before he broke through surface, sputtering. Pungent water dripped into his eyes. He looked down at his soaked, sagging clothes and then at Sledge. He bit his lip, “Shun’a don that boy.”
Snafu reached to shove the redheaded blur under, but his hands couldn’t wholly find purchase on wet skin. Hands messily slipped over Eugene’s neck and shoulders instead. Eugene managed to escape by blinding him with a splash. The sound of his unconstrained laughter caused the patter right below Snafu’s collarbone to speed up. Amidst a raucous of cursing and limbs, Snafu finally caught him roughly by the waist and pulled him into a headlock.
“You win, ok ok, let me go!” Eugene fruitlessly tugged at the arms confining him.
Both men struggled towards the decrepit excuse for a dock, its wood gray and green with age. The structure groaned under Snafu’s weight as he pulled himself up to sit beside Eugene, toes skimming the water’s surface. He retrieved a fallen cigarette from his now sopping pack, thoughtfully blowing off debris. Eugene chuckled with disbelief as the other man lit up the remains.
After a few moments, Eugene plucked the damp stick and placed it between his own lips. Snafu allowed his eyes to fall shamelessly on the pink line of Eugene’s mouth.
Face smug and defiant, Sledge exhaled through a grin, “Pay back,”
“Thought you were a pipe man now,”
“’S’pose I changed my mind,”
“’S’pose I won that fight fair n’ square. Lucky the Mrs. Sledge wasn’ here ta see ya losin’,”
“She ain’t my missus,” Eugene frowned slightly.
“Sure seemed n’ awful lot like it,” he countered. The sky steadily shifted from turquoise to pearly grey, clouds swirling overhead.
“If you’re so damned interested in my life, why’d you never bother answering my goddamn letter?” Eugene’s voice went tight, drawn within himself. Snafu finally bristled at the confrontation he’d known was inevitable.
“What’d you think was gonna happen? ‘Hugs ‘n kisses, Merriell the big ol’ queer Shelton?’ X’s ‘n O’s? Two guys gonna go steady or some shit?” he mocked Eugene calmly. His eyes purposefully avoided the tempting lines of the other man’s bare shoulders, biting back the bitterness rising in his throat.
“Fuck you,” Sledge’s expression knotted into a snarl. Instead of another shove or the crack of Sledge’s fist at his jaw, Eugene simply loomed on top of him. ttheir chests were suddenly almost touching. Hands framed either side of Snafu’s head.
Snafu schooled his features to into passivity. It never worked on Eugene though. After all their years together, Eugene could effortlessly identify the lost quivering shape of Snafu’s mouth. His eyes no longer glossed over him with a detached sort of wanting, but openly frightened and searching for answers. He could plainly see Snafu battling with his own arousal at their proximity. The fact only made the hurt crawl that much further up Eugene’s tongue.
“This what you want?” he looked straight into pale blue eyes. He wrestled a button loose on Snafu’s borrowed trousers. Eugene reveled in the shock his words conjured. “You want to fuck me and get it over with Snafu? Don’t have to worry about being honest? Better that way right? No x’s and o’s. Easier for you?”
Slippery hands began to lower the metal zipper. They moved to touch his chest. Eugene suddenly wondered if he’d be pushed away. Out of the corner of his vision Eugene saw Snafu’s hands hover with the thought of touching him in return, of resting on his thighs.
Dirtied palms fell flat on the dock. “Gene,” his molasses-drawl sounded weaker than Eugene had ever heard it.
Eugene became racked with a new kind of desperation. It felt like the frail foundation he’d set up, a strange flimsy thing he’d kept inside of him even through the battles was crumbling. Eugene squeezed his eyes shut and forced out a series of labored breaths.
“I hate you,” he hissed, choking.
Then Eugene kissed him, mouths equally clumsy and wet. He began to press with greater purpose, rocking into Snafu’s body. He shivered at the feeling of Snafu’s mouth responding to his own. A light drizzle sent cold streams of water sliding down Eugene’s bare back.
Fingers traced the waters path down Eugene’s spine. He cupped Snafu’s face and pulled him closer. Snafu still tasted like lake water as they slid against his own. They gasped into each other. Snafu’s curls were course in his hands. Something frantic was building up inside of Eugene.
With trembling hands, Sledge hooked his hands in the tops of Snafu’s underwear. He had only slept with Diane a hand full of times. Needless to say he was well in over his head, but goddamn if he’d ever let on.
In an unexpected display of strength, Snafu had roughly reversed their positions. Somehow it didn’t feel like defeat.
Sledge lost himself in a haze of the other man’s voice.
Snafu never took his eyes off Sledge’s face, rutting into him; shallow and slow or hard and urgent. He nosed at Sledge’s hair, whispering pleas and strange declarations. Not long after, his whole body folded with the wave of his orgasm. Snafu reached down to grasp Sledge. He fisted him, pushing him, urging him to come.
All of the ferocity had left their bodies, leaving two shattered men breathing in each other as Eugene sobbed and clutched at Merriell’s heaving shoulders.
The rain now came down in thick slaps across their heads and arms. Thunder rolled across heavy black clouds and a wind stirred through the overhanging branches. Sledge felt raw under Snafu’s naked weight, his whole chest strained. Neither moved.
After some time, Snafu helped him up, cringing into a sitting position. He immediately collapsed against the nearest tree trunk for support. Snafu lowered himself to sit beside him. His eyes were raptly focused. “Gene, didn’ mean what I said, not with you.” Eugene felt a wave of dizzying calm at the words, even when he’d always acknowledged it to be true. A broken, feverish giggle erupted from inside him for no reason at all.
“I know,” He buried his face in the other man’s neck.
___
Still dressed in her favorite periwinkle blue frock and polished heels, Diane sat silently in the receding twilight.
Her wide skirt fanned out around her as she fixated on the stretch of drive leading from her house to the road. Her curls had started to lose shape in the humidity of the impending storm and the straps of her pumps had begun to cut into her skin after a day of wear.
She knew it was foolish to wait. Her parents had said as much after the first couple hours, faces sour with both disapproval and disappointment. The old, stately southern home remained immobile, stiff on the landscape as water finally broke from the clouds.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Snafu/Sledge
Disclaimer: Based on the fictional representations, not the actual namesakes, as portrayed on HBO's The Pacific
Summary: Of all the places, imagined or otherwise, in which Eugene Sledge existed inside Snafu’s mind, none of them even remotely resembled Chatom, Alabama’s town square.
Thank you to my beta elizabethisboss !
Snafu knew what worked and he stuck to it. If you see a Jap, you pull the trigger. If you hit a man in the skull for long enough, he’ll stop breathing. If you need to shit, you don’t do it at night. If you sneered with enough bravado, some day you might reach that the point where their greying corpses no longer turned your insides upside down.
Snafu had fought tooth and nail against names and hometowns. He won everytime. It was a lopsided fight in his favor, an advantage he didn't mind. That was all before some flimsy, thin-skinned skeleton named Eugene from Mobile, Alabama ducked into his tent.
It started out dutifully with “taken”, then progressed to a direct and efficient “you." Once the kid survived a few more months he gave him “Sledge”, then “Sledgehammer” and by the time Snafu had easily slipped into“Gene," he realized what had happened all too late.
They would share a shitty little puddle of mud together where Snafu rested the two-ton weight of his head against Sledge. A few stray flares bleached the cloudless night sky. Sledge would turn to face him. Their hands, hands that were unoccupied by guns, would almost brush. This was all Snafu had. His strained link to sanity had been reduced to Gene.
It had been reduced to the gentle thud of Sledge’s helmet that Snafu felt more than heard against his own, when Sledge’s neck became too tired to hold the weight any longer.
One day, (if it could be called that, hours sliding together, slippery with too much blood, Jap blood, their blood) a particularly deafening explosion ripped open the landscape. It fazed him less than the silence. The lingering silences were unpredictable. His helmet jittered, danced against his skull. Bone collided with bone inside his mouth. His eyes instinctively sought out the pale line of Sledge’s nose beside him, or a wisp of orange hair. A sea of indistinct, frightened faces met him instead. He anxiously scanned the hills of mud but there was no sign of Gene as the men scrambled forward.
Only when Sledge a familiar grip take hold of his arm did he remember to breathe.
__
Of all the places, imagined or otherwise, in which Eugene Sledge existed inside Snafu’s mind, none of them even remotely resembled Chatom, Alabama’s town square.
The backdrop of clean streets and cheerfully painted storefronts was jarring. When Snafu had agreed to take this delivery, he’d taken note of the Alabama address with something irrational like hope stirring inside his belly. He’d cursed himself, squeezing his eyes shut and seeing orange, auburn, and taking another drink.
Now Snafu blinked back the overwhelming strangeness. Snafu looked into the other man’s face for the first time in two years.
“You son of a bitch,” Eugene (not Sledge or Sledgehammer here) shouted hoarsely. He was wholly alive, breathing, “What’re you doing outta Louisiana?”
“Takin’ a shipment,” Snafu mumbled from behind his cigarette. His mouth had gone lazy and words were suddenly an insurmountable obstacle for his tongue. “Guess I could ask same’a you, Mobile.”
Eugene's eyes (his lips) were wider, darker than Snafu had remembered. He hated it. “Oh yea, just visiting Diane here’s parents.” His facial expression abruptly shifted, “Oh shit! Don’t know what I was thinking, I’m so sorry. Diane! I want you to meet somebody. Diane Norville, Merriell Shelton. We were in the same division…”
A young girl in a pretty lilac dress stepped forward with a shy smile.
The girl looked almost translucent in the sunlight, weakened by years of proper upbringing and cotillion balls. Her lips stretched thin and sweet like saltwater taffy.
She hesitated, unnerved by the predatory, appraising sweep of his gaze. “Merriell, it’s such a pleasure to finally meet you,” she at last extended a gloved hand, “Eugene’s told me so many stories…”
Snafu’s derisive snort cut her off. Their eyes, two heavy stones dropped in the middle of an otherwise serene, placid afternoon.
“I just tryin’ ta make sure this fuck up didn’ git his ass handed to ‘im,” Snafu smirked, slow and irreverent. Eugene grimaced through his smile. Diane merely looked unsure.
“Meant to say, pleasures all mine,” he finally took her hand and kissed it with every inch of charm he possessed, “Gotta say, girl like you deserve a real man, ain’t got time fo’ these table scraps ya yourself got here.” He winked in her direction. This finally earned him a giggle. Straightening himself up he added,“Well, was stoppin’ for gas s’all. Bett’a get the truck.” He faltered only slightly as he nodded a curt farewell in their direction. The beginnings of a headache had blossomed into a true, pure pain.
Before he could put a proper distance between them, Diane chimed in, “Oh Mr. Shelton! It would be a shame if you didn’t stay with us for the night. A friend of Gene’s is a friend of ours after all!”
He turned and lingered between Eugene and Diane, “Ain’t no need, truck works just fine.”
It was Eugene who responded, clearing his throat, “Really, there’s plenty of extra beds, if you don’t have a place set up-”
“I insist! You have to, I couldn’t bare the thought of you sleeping in some old truck when we have perfectly good rooms at home!” Diane cut in, delighted as the reunion unfolding by her hand.
“Never could say no t’a pretty lady,” Snafu conceded in good humor, carefully avoiding Eugene.
___
A knock at the door ricocheted through the otherwise hushed Norville home some time around midnight.
Eugene dropped the dusty hardback he’d had in his lap and cursed under his breath. Pushing aside the storm door, his eyes fell on a familiar figure leaning against a great white porch column.
Snafu stood backlit by the porch lights, dressed in a t-shirt and jeans, as if donned with some kind of perverted halo.
“You wouldn’t bother showing up at a decent hour, would you?” Sledge chided by way of greeting, putting on a show of displeasure though his tone was light with relief.
“Gotta keep ‘em on their toes Sledgehammer,” he grinned, pushing his way inside. Eugene tried to ignore the smell of whiskey on his clothes. “Missed mom ‘n pop? Am I late for supper?”
“You’re an ungrateful bastard, you know that right?”
They moved in relative silence once inside, only disturbed by the occasional mocking whistle from Snafu as they passed particularly expensive looking pieces of art lining the walls.
Eugene finally waved him into the guest bedroom. Linen sheets were perfectly folded into crisp submission. Fresh doilies graced the bedside table. Snafu ceremoniously tossed his ratty knapsack onto the immaculate bed. The scene instantly brought to mind their first meeting. Eugene could almost smell the sweat soaked bodies stewing under that godforsaken island sun.
They soon abandoned for the breathing room of the porch. Snafu looked out towards the yard, tapping out two cigarettes from the crumpled box in his pocket. He dangled the second one as a casual invitation but Eugene shook his head, holding up his pipe. The cicada’s rhythmic screech beat against the surrounding blackness, not unlike the noise of the jungle at night.
Snafu’s protruding lips and deep-set eyes remained angled towards the black. Minutes passed without either peaking.
“Gene?” his tone came out unexpectedly cautious.
Since their years apart Sledge had grown unused to the weight of Snafu’s eyes on him. It was now an ache that he could feel over his entire body.
“Yea?”
“Always meant to, ya know, ring or somethin’,” he avoided the man’s face in favor of the stars visible between pockets of clouds. “Didn’ seem right though, tryin’ ta write all that shit down.” He looked back up with a wavering smile, “Ain’t no Billy Shakespeare like you Gene.”
His gravely voice was strung tight, waiting for Sledge’s validation. No response came. Even after two years it still felt too loaded.
Snafu could have told him how he almost hadn’t even gotten off the damn train. He could have confessed that if he’d gotten too good’a look at Gene that he’d have followed him straight to Alabama.
“That’s for sure,” Eugene laughed dismissively. Neither pressed further.
Their natural give-and-take rhythm of conversation began to settle back in. Snafu’s mere presence felt like all the empathy Eugene had ever needed. Fireflies popped in and out of the dark like a maddening game of hide and seek. Their coy lights flickered endlessly between the sharp blades of grass.
“Think you got time before you leave Chatom?” Sledge finally ventured on the precipice of a larger question.
“Just might,” Snafu released a stream of smoke, “Watcha got in mind?”
“How’d you feel about staying for awhile tomorrow, maybe coming to service with us?”
“Didn’ exactly pack my Sunday’s best,” Snafu motioned to his short-sleeved tee, clinging small of his back with sweat. “Anyways, they’ll be missin’ me back at the yard,”
___
Dust motes and sunshine streamed from the high peaked windows lining the walls. The entire whitewashed interior of the chapel shone, glorious with late morning sun. The straight backs of the pews pointed heavenward and their dark stain glistened like saintly tears. Snafu watched a fly beat its frantic body in vain against a nearby windowpane as Sledge held the yellowed, leather hymnbook between them.
His blue eyes scanned the congregation before landing on Eugene. His lips opened and closed to the rhythm of hymns memorized in childhood. At last the pastor motioned for the men, women and children to take their seats.
The pastor’s extra skin underneath his chin flapped with excitement as he addressed the crowd with fervor. His voice echoed down the aisle, bolstered by the thrill of a captive audience, “Can I get a hallelujah for the Good Lord?” Scattered shouts rose up from the crowd. “Brothers and sisters, what have we really given of ourselves for the good Lord Jesus Christ lately? Are we sittin’ here idly by in these times of change and corruption? Roman’s twelve reads: ‘I beseech you therefore, brethren, -by the mercies of God- that ye present your bodies a living sacrifice, holy, acceptable unto God, which is your reasonable service!’ -”
A rustling caused Eugene to turn, only to see Snafu shoving past the outstretched knees of his pew. Eugene immediately rose to follow. He whispered apologies while trying to tune out the rising disapproval. Every stare burned at the back of his neck. Diane and her parents gaped, red with shock.
Outside, Sledge found Snafu gazing up at the clouds, cigarette returned to its rightful place between his lips. He had already managed to free himself from the confines of his suit. His jacket now hung limp and lifeless over his elbow. His sleeves were balled up around his forearms. He didn’t acknowledge Eugene at first, simply fixated on the wisps of cottony-white within the blue. Both men stared at a blurry, dark shape in the distance, aimlessly circling in the sky.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Sledge cocked his head in the direction of the road.
“Like ta see that Jesus blow up a goddamn Jap,” Snafu grumbled.
___
Their feet kicked up dirt in clouds along the side of the road. Loose ties swung side to side with each step, lazy around their necks like ropes on a tire swing.
Eugene glanced once more at the miniature drawings of fish on Snafu’s tie and smiled. Both he and Diane’s father had a number of options for Snafu to choose from, yet he’d insisted on this particular tie. He privately believed it was just to see the look of disdain on Diane’s face.
Eugene continued to watch Snafu, the man whose eyes rarely left him. He had literally grown up with Sidney, but this was the man with whom he’d lost his innocence. Snafu had become his closest friend through horrors that changed a person more than mere years, education or marriage ever could.
“Hey how long we got left ‘til that swimmin’ hole’a yours? Fryin’ like an egg on’a pan, ova here,”
Eugene squinted up the road, “Just a little further I think. Diane said something about a blue silo. If it’s too much for your delicate sensibilities though, you might still be able to turn back,” he nudged playfully at Snafu’s shoulder.
“Fuck righ’ off,” Snafu grinned, momentarily leaning into the offered contact.
The smell of hot manure and grass filled their nostrils as they passed another fenced pasture. A few dappled cows peered out from their coveted patches of shade.
“There it is!” Sledge suddenly crowed, hopping to quicken his pace. He could already feel the cool water at his blistered ankles. Snafu broke into a run close behind. Dress shoes made the entire affair that much more comical, sliding through the dust.
Once at the clearing, Eugene began the process of undressing without hesitation. Expensive wool socks and painstakingly pleated slacks were discarded in a shapeless pile on a bed of dry leaves and clay. Stripped to his boxer shorts, already giddy with relief, he threw a glanced around his shoulder at Snafu.
Snafu stood motionless, the ridiculous tie still dangling lifeless from his fingers. Only his dress shirt and loafers had been removed.
“What’re you waiting for?” Sledge shouted, the corners of his mouth only slipping slightly as realization dawned on him.
Snafu somehow hadn’t been prepared for this. It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar sight. Every marine eventually abandoned the uniform shirts in their forlorn attempts to escape the suffocating temperatures. Yet even without the fabric, the heat lay on them like a second skin. It had always been with a hollowed, hungry belly, the threat of disease and death lurking in every scratch. Black and blue and red and yellow meant ugly reminders of pain and fear. At one point he was even able to count the individual ribs lining Sledge’s torso. Now he stood there, laughing, an endless drink of pale skin, untouched by starvation, colored only by flushed cheeks and benign freckles. Snafu’s head spun faster.
Eugene’s hands were suddenly on him, tugging him towards the water. Before he could get any sort of proper traction, Snafu went tumbling into the cool, murky pool.
His world turned to fuzzy fragments of light and distorted noise before he broke through surface, sputtering. Pungent water dripped into his eyes. He looked down at his soaked, sagging clothes and then at Sledge. He bit his lip, “Shun’a don that boy.”
Snafu reached to shove the redheaded blur under, but his hands couldn’t wholly find purchase on wet skin. Hands messily slipped over Eugene’s neck and shoulders instead. Eugene managed to escape by blinding him with a splash. The sound of his unconstrained laughter caused the patter right below Snafu’s collarbone to speed up. Amidst a raucous of cursing and limbs, Snafu finally caught him roughly by the waist and pulled him into a headlock.
“You win, ok ok, let me go!” Eugene fruitlessly tugged at the arms confining him.
Both men struggled towards the decrepit excuse for a dock, its wood gray and green with age. The structure groaned under Snafu’s weight as he pulled himself up to sit beside Eugene, toes skimming the water’s surface. He retrieved a fallen cigarette from his now sopping pack, thoughtfully blowing off debris. Eugene chuckled with disbelief as the other man lit up the remains.
After a few moments, Eugene plucked the damp stick and placed it between his own lips. Snafu allowed his eyes to fall shamelessly on the pink line of Eugene’s mouth.
Face smug and defiant, Sledge exhaled through a grin, “Pay back,”
“Thought you were a pipe man now,”
“’S’pose I changed my mind,”
“’S’pose I won that fight fair n’ square. Lucky the Mrs. Sledge wasn’ here ta see ya losin’,”
“She ain’t my missus,” Eugene frowned slightly.
“Sure seemed n’ awful lot like it,” he countered. The sky steadily shifted from turquoise to pearly grey, clouds swirling overhead.
“If you’re so damned interested in my life, why’d you never bother answering my goddamn letter?” Eugene’s voice went tight, drawn within himself. Snafu finally bristled at the confrontation he’d known was inevitable.
“What’d you think was gonna happen? ‘Hugs ‘n kisses, Merriell the big ol’ queer Shelton?’ X’s ‘n O’s? Two guys gonna go steady or some shit?” he mocked Eugene calmly. His eyes purposefully avoided the tempting lines of the other man’s bare shoulders, biting back the bitterness rising in his throat.
“Fuck you,” Sledge’s expression knotted into a snarl. Instead of another shove or the crack of Sledge’s fist at his jaw, Eugene simply loomed on top of him. ttheir chests were suddenly almost touching. Hands framed either side of Snafu’s head.
Snafu schooled his features to into passivity. It never worked on Eugene though. After all their years together, Eugene could effortlessly identify the lost quivering shape of Snafu’s mouth. His eyes no longer glossed over him with a detached sort of wanting, but openly frightened and searching for answers. He could plainly see Snafu battling with his own arousal at their proximity. The fact only made the hurt crawl that much further up Eugene’s tongue.
“This what you want?” he looked straight into pale blue eyes. He wrestled a button loose on Snafu’s borrowed trousers. Eugene reveled in the shock his words conjured. “You want to fuck me and get it over with Snafu? Don’t have to worry about being honest? Better that way right? No x’s and o’s. Easier for you?”
Slippery hands began to lower the metal zipper. They moved to touch his chest. Eugene suddenly wondered if he’d be pushed away. Out of the corner of his vision Eugene saw Snafu’s hands hover with the thought of touching him in return, of resting on his thighs.
Dirtied palms fell flat on the dock. “Gene,” his molasses-drawl sounded weaker than Eugene had ever heard it.
Eugene became racked with a new kind of desperation. It felt like the frail foundation he’d set up, a strange flimsy thing he’d kept inside of him even through the battles was crumbling. Eugene squeezed his eyes shut and forced out a series of labored breaths.
“I hate you,” he hissed, choking.
Then Eugene kissed him, mouths equally clumsy and wet. He began to press with greater purpose, rocking into Snafu’s body. He shivered at the feeling of Snafu’s mouth responding to his own. A light drizzle sent cold streams of water sliding down Eugene’s bare back.
Fingers traced the waters path down Eugene’s spine. He cupped Snafu’s face and pulled him closer. Snafu still tasted like lake water as they slid against his own. They gasped into each other. Snafu’s curls were course in his hands. Something frantic was building up inside of Eugene.
With trembling hands, Sledge hooked his hands in the tops of Snafu’s underwear. He had only slept with Diane a hand full of times. Needless to say he was well in over his head, but goddamn if he’d ever let on.
In an unexpected display of strength, Snafu had roughly reversed their positions. Somehow it didn’t feel like defeat.
Sledge lost himself in a haze of the other man’s voice.
Snafu never took his eyes off Sledge’s face, rutting into him; shallow and slow or hard and urgent. He nosed at Sledge’s hair, whispering pleas and strange declarations. Not long after, his whole body folded with the wave of his orgasm. Snafu reached down to grasp Sledge. He fisted him, pushing him, urging him to come.
All of the ferocity had left their bodies, leaving two shattered men breathing in each other as Eugene sobbed and clutched at Merriell’s heaving shoulders.
The rain now came down in thick slaps across their heads and arms. Thunder rolled across heavy black clouds and a wind stirred through the overhanging branches. Sledge felt raw under Snafu’s naked weight, his whole chest strained. Neither moved.
After some time, Snafu helped him up, cringing into a sitting position. He immediately collapsed against the nearest tree trunk for support. Snafu lowered himself to sit beside him. His eyes were raptly focused. “Gene, didn’ mean what I said, not with you.” Eugene felt a wave of dizzying calm at the words, even when he’d always acknowledged it to be true. A broken, feverish giggle erupted from inside him for no reason at all.
“I know,” He buried his face in the other man’s neck.
___
Still dressed in her favorite periwinkle blue frock and polished heels, Diane sat silently in the receding twilight.
Her wide skirt fanned out around her as she fixated on the stretch of drive leading from her house to the road. Her curls had started to lose shape in the humidity of the impending storm and the straps of her pumps had begun to cut into her skin after a day of wear.
She knew it was foolish to wait. Her parents had said as much after the first couple hours, faces sour with both disapproval and disappointment. The old, stately southern home remained immobile, stiff on the landscape as water finally broke from the clouds.