time!meme ficlets, pt 1
made me homesick | snafu/sledge for heartequals
"Exactly twenty-four hours after this happened."
When the exhaustion sets in, cold and weighty against his chest, Snafu starts trying to count. Glints of metal against the pulse of the flares, broken trees illuminated for split seconds, the whispering down the line, everything blurring together until his shoulders are slumping and his vision is splotches of color. He pushes a finger through the rip in the fabric on his knee and scrabbles down his skin to an open sore, presses hard against it and winces. His eyes feel heavy lidded and sore, prickling from the cold sweat tangling in his eyelashes. He ain't gonna fall asleep, and he turns sideways to try and spit out the rusty taste in his mouth, stops when he sees Sledge.
He's curled up like a kid, looking half his size and tucking himself into the space next to Snafu. Every inch of him is curled inward, careful in his own box of space with his dirty bible tucked close to his chest. Snafu spits to the other side, pauses, then crouches down lower in their hole, lining up against Sledge until their knees are a centimeter apart, their shoulders separated by a tiny stretch of dirt. He hoists his weapon a little higher and scans the perimeter again, quiet except for the rustling of the trees, for the moment.
A minute or an hour passes. Sledge reaches out a hand and grabs at the leg of Snafu's trousers, fingers pulling against the fabric, the clink of gold in his pocket rattling. He starts at the touch and bites his tongue hard enough to bleed. Sledge blinks up at him, pushing the remnants of restless sleep from his eyes, says, "My turn." Snafu swallows down the taste of copper, nods an "okay."
Sledge's hand stays on his leg.
sullen, blue bruised | snafu/liebgott for rivlee
"how Snaf and Liebgott met in your 'verse."
When they pull up to the diner, the cabbie follows Snafu out onto the street, turning his collar up against the rain. He shrugs as Snafu looks at him, then gestures to the flickering sign and says, “I eat, too.” He spits his gum out on the pavement. “Hell, I’ll pay, I’m feeling kinda generous. Besides, you look fucking pathetic.”
“What,” Snafu says, “You living like a big man out here driving your cab?”
He laughs, says "No," and tosses his head to the side like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t make shit.”
Snafu follows him into the diner, disregarding the “Please wait Patiently, We will be RIGHT with you!” sign propped up against the wall. They slip into a booth crowded in behind an assortment of tables and a broken drum set. The cabbie says, “Joe Liebgott,” and Snafu says, “What?”
“My name, you idiot.”
Snafu props his feet up on a chair for the table across the way. The vinyl squeaks underneath his wet boots. “Jus’ thought you knew nobody remembers that shit, ‘specially not from their cabbie.”
Liebgott ignores him and asks, “Who’re you?”
Snafu grins at him, says, “Snafu.”
Liebgott snorts. “Yeah, right,” he says.
“Hey,” Snafu replies, and spreads his hands wide. “I’m not the one who’s paying for some stranger’s dinner. Hell, I haven’t even paid fare yet.”
“Aw, shut your trap. Look,” Liebgott presses his hands onto the table. “It was the end of long day, nobody wants to be out in this damn rain and I ain’t closing for business, so I’m bored.”
“Ain’t had anybody’s ear to talk off?” Snafu gives him a slow smile. “Feelin’ lonely?”
Liebgott makes a rude gesture in his direction, and the waitress stepping around the corner rocks back on her heels and says, “Is this a bad time?” She starts to walk away, but Liebgott calls after her, “Naw, naw, hey!” and Snafu gives her his best wide-eyed innocence. She pulls at her apron and doesn’t step too close, putting on a commerical smile for Liebgott after giving Snafu a wary glance. “May I take your order?”
“Yeah,” Liebgott picks up the menu, raises his voice conversationally, “I’ll have uh, that burger? And the biggest load of fries you got. Make it freakin’ huge.”
“Coffee.” Snafu says.
Liebgott stares at him. “Seriously?” he says, “I’m offering you a free meal and all you’re gonna ask for is coffee? What the fuck are you, stupid?”
Snafu leans forward and opens his mouth, gazes at Liebgott. “Naw,” he replies. He keeps staring as Liebgott mutters something under his breath and then orders another burger, anyway. When he turns back to Snafu, he says, “What the hell are you staring at?” and Snafu shrugs, blinks real slow.
america's trying not to show her age | toye/luz for uniformly
"There was to be Toye/Luz in your postwar 'verse, wasn't there? The beginning of that please?"
Joe shows up early, pacing back and forth on his crutches before he finally gives up and settles onto the bench seat outside the bar. God knows why Luz is here in Pennsylvania, but he said he’d gotten Joe’s number from Bill Guarnere and he meet him at the bar, if he’d like?
“Joe Toye!” Luz is heading down the street, bundled up against the cold. His face breaks out in a smile as he gets close to where Joe’s sitting, faltering slightly as Joe pushes up on his crutches and stands up. He leans forward and holds out a hand to Luz, who grasps it tightly, and says, “It’s good to see you.”
“Yeah,” Luz says. He rubs the back of his head. “It really is.”
--
When the bartender sets two beers in front of them, slapping a pair of coasters underneath and telling them to enjoy, Joe asks Luz why he’s in the state. They’re in the corner of the bar and Joe leans his hand against the counter to keep his balance as he turns to look at Luz, waiting for his reply.
Luz stiffens. He passes a hand over the two day stubble on his jaw and says, “I just needed a break.” The moment lingers in silence, and then he leans in toward Joe and grins, says, “to memories, right?”
Joe raises his glass, replies, “Currahee.”
The grin on Luz’s face widens tenfold. “Currahee!” He gestures with his own drink.
When he sets the glass down he says, “Christ, Toye, can you believe we were just kids then?”
Joe makes a noise of agreement, thinking back to Toccoa, running up that goddamn mountain, Sobel yelling like an asshole in his ear. He rubs his thigh, and Luz says, “I wonder what that rat bastard is up to these days.”
Joe looks at him, surprised, then grins back. "Probably got a whole new group of sorry bastards to boss around.”
Luz laughs. “Hey,” he says. “I really wanted to see you.”
--
“Hey,” Joe says, as they head out the door. He pauses and reaches into his coat pocket. “Smoke?”
Luz’s eyes widen momentarily, and then he laughs again. “Geez, you’re going to break me back into all my bad habits.” He looks at the cigarette in Joe’s hand. “No, no I quit a couple years ago.”
Joe shrugs and tucks the cigarette back into the pack. As he lights his own, Luz says, “I kept getting told I smelled awful.” He grins. “Got out of the military and I still had people who outranked me.” He blows into his cupped hands, trying to ward off the cold seeping in around them.
Joe reaches out a hand and smiles around the cigarette, says, “I’ll see you around, all right?”
“Yeah,” Luz replies. He grips Joe’s hand hard. “I’ll see you around.”
i know it hasn't been the best year | babe/toye for skew_whiff
Babe and Joe from Oh Two Hundred Hours, one year on.
When Babe comes back from visiting his family, ladened down with a plate of leftovers and a pile of clothing that his mother patched up for them, he can hear Joe shouting in the apartment before he even manages to get the door open. “Come on,” he says to the doorknob, trying to jiggle it open while the leftovers threaten to spill down his arm. Joe’s insulting someone’s mother from inside.
When he gets in the door, Babe sets the plate on the counter and heads down the hall. Light is streaming out from the bathroom, and when Babe stops in the doorway Joe glances up at him and grunts out a “Hey.” He’s soaked, their bathroom sink looks busted, and there’s a thin film of water covering half the tile.
“The hell,” Babe says.
Joe grimaces and pulls his shirt over his head, the wet fabric peeling away from his skin. He wads it up and pushes it around the leak in the pipe. “That’ll hold it,” Babe says, dryly.
“I need a different wrench for the nut,” Joe says, gesturing. “It’s too small.” He pushes himself to his feet, grabbing his crutches from the floor.
Babe shifts the pile of clothes in his hands and remembers, “Ma asked me when I was gonna get a wife.” He rubs the bridge of his nose and then pushes the clothes toward Joe, a clean shirt on the top. Joe chuckles, says, “What? She doesn’t know you’re the wife?”
“Aw, fuck you.”
Joe laughs again - switching to a cuss as his crutch slips in the puddle on the floor. “These fucking things,” he says. “I get off balance and put my hand on the sink and the whole goddamn thing breaks on me.”
Babe steps all the way into the bathroom, positioning himself between Joe and the hall, and laughs. “Jesus. My ma keeps telling you you got too much muscle, you’d be a hazard if you’re not careful.” Joe pushes hard on his shoulder in return, using the leverage to hop past the water and onto the wood floor. As he readjusts his crutches, he grimaces, says, “That isn’t it.”
He heads down the hall before Babe can reply, calling out “Gonna go borrow a wrench,” and slamming the door behind him.
from this meme.
"Exactly twenty-four hours after this happened."
When the exhaustion sets in, cold and weighty against his chest, Snafu starts trying to count. Glints of metal against the pulse of the flares, broken trees illuminated for split seconds, the whispering down the line, everything blurring together until his shoulders are slumping and his vision is splotches of color. He pushes a finger through the rip in the fabric on his knee and scrabbles down his skin to an open sore, presses hard against it and winces. His eyes feel heavy lidded and sore, prickling from the cold sweat tangling in his eyelashes. He ain't gonna fall asleep, and he turns sideways to try and spit out the rusty taste in his mouth, stops when he sees Sledge.
He's curled up like a kid, looking half his size and tucking himself into the space next to Snafu. Every inch of him is curled inward, careful in his own box of space with his dirty bible tucked close to his chest. Snafu spits to the other side, pauses, then crouches down lower in their hole, lining up against Sledge until their knees are a centimeter apart, their shoulders separated by a tiny stretch of dirt. He hoists his weapon a little higher and scans the perimeter again, quiet except for the rustling of the trees, for the moment.
A minute or an hour passes. Sledge reaches out a hand and grabs at the leg of Snafu's trousers, fingers pulling against the fabric, the clink of gold in his pocket rattling. He starts at the touch and bites his tongue hard enough to bleed. Sledge blinks up at him, pushing the remnants of restless sleep from his eyes, says, "My turn." Snafu swallows down the taste of copper, nods an "okay."
Sledge's hand stays on his leg.
sullen, blue bruised | snafu/liebgott for rivlee
"how Snaf and Liebgott met in your 'verse."
When they pull up to the diner, the cabbie follows Snafu out onto the street, turning his collar up against the rain. He shrugs as Snafu looks at him, then gestures to the flickering sign and says, “I eat, too.” He spits his gum out on the pavement. “Hell, I’ll pay, I’m feeling kinda generous. Besides, you look fucking pathetic.”
“What,” Snafu says, “You living like a big man out here driving your cab?”
He laughs, says "No," and tosses his head to the side like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t make shit.”
Snafu follows him into the diner, disregarding the “Please wait Patiently, We will be RIGHT with you!” sign propped up against the wall. They slip into a booth crowded in behind an assortment of tables and a broken drum set. The cabbie says, “Joe Liebgott,” and Snafu says, “What?”
“My name, you idiot.”
Snafu props his feet up on a chair for the table across the way. The vinyl squeaks underneath his wet boots. “Jus’ thought you knew nobody remembers that shit, ‘specially not from their cabbie.”
Liebgott ignores him and asks, “Who’re you?”
Snafu grins at him, says, “Snafu.”
Liebgott snorts. “Yeah, right,” he says.
“Hey,” Snafu replies, and spreads his hands wide. “I’m not the one who’s paying for some stranger’s dinner. Hell, I haven’t even paid fare yet.”
“Aw, shut your trap. Look,” Liebgott presses his hands onto the table. “It was the end of long day, nobody wants to be out in this damn rain and I ain’t closing for business, so I’m bored.”
“Ain’t had anybody’s ear to talk off?” Snafu gives him a slow smile. “Feelin’ lonely?”
Liebgott makes a rude gesture in his direction, and the waitress stepping around the corner rocks back on her heels and says, “Is this a bad time?” She starts to walk away, but Liebgott calls after her, “Naw, naw, hey!” and Snafu gives her his best wide-eyed innocence. She pulls at her apron and doesn’t step too close, putting on a commerical smile for Liebgott after giving Snafu a wary glance. “May I take your order?”
“Yeah,” Liebgott picks up the menu, raises his voice conversationally, “I’ll have uh, that burger? And the biggest load of fries you got. Make it freakin’ huge.”
“Coffee.” Snafu says.
Liebgott stares at him. “Seriously?” he says, “I’m offering you a free meal and all you’re gonna ask for is coffee? What the fuck are you, stupid?”
Snafu leans forward and opens his mouth, gazes at Liebgott. “Naw,” he replies. He keeps staring as Liebgott mutters something under his breath and then orders another burger, anyway. When he turns back to Snafu, he says, “What the hell are you staring at?” and Snafu shrugs, blinks real slow.
america's trying not to show her age | toye/luz for uniformly
"There was to be Toye/Luz in your postwar 'verse, wasn't there? The beginning of that please?"
Joe shows up early, pacing back and forth on his crutches before he finally gives up and settles onto the bench seat outside the bar. God knows why Luz is here in Pennsylvania, but he said he’d gotten Joe’s number from Bill Guarnere and he meet him at the bar, if he’d like?
“Joe Toye!” Luz is heading down the street, bundled up against the cold. His face breaks out in a smile as he gets close to where Joe’s sitting, faltering slightly as Joe pushes up on his crutches and stands up. He leans forward and holds out a hand to Luz, who grasps it tightly, and says, “It’s good to see you.”
“Yeah,” Luz says. He rubs the back of his head. “It really is.”
--
When the bartender sets two beers in front of them, slapping a pair of coasters underneath and telling them to enjoy, Joe asks Luz why he’s in the state. They’re in the corner of the bar and Joe leans his hand against the counter to keep his balance as he turns to look at Luz, waiting for his reply.
Luz stiffens. He passes a hand over the two day stubble on his jaw and says, “I just needed a break.” The moment lingers in silence, and then he leans in toward Joe and grins, says, “to memories, right?”
Joe raises his glass, replies, “Currahee.”
The grin on Luz’s face widens tenfold. “Currahee!” He gestures with his own drink.
When he sets the glass down he says, “Christ, Toye, can you believe we were just kids then?”
Joe makes a noise of agreement, thinking back to Toccoa, running up that goddamn mountain, Sobel yelling like an asshole in his ear. He rubs his thigh, and Luz says, “I wonder what that rat bastard is up to these days.”
Joe looks at him, surprised, then grins back. "Probably got a whole new group of sorry bastards to boss around.”
Luz laughs. “Hey,” he says. “I really wanted to see you.”
--
“Hey,” Joe says, as they head out the door. He pauses and reaches into his coat pocket. “Smoke?”
Luz’s eyes widen momentarily, and then he laughs again. “Geez, you’re going to break me back into all my bad habits.” He looks at the cigarette in Joe’s hand. “No, no I quit a couple years ago.”
Joe shrugs and tucks the cigarette back into the pack. As he lights his own, Luz says, “I kept getting told I smelled awful.” He grins. “Got out of the military and I still had people who outranked me.” He blows into his cupped hands, trying to ward off the cold seeping in around them.
Joe reaches out a hand and smiles around the cigarette, says, “I’ll see you around, all right?”
“Yeah,” Luz replies. He grips Joe’s hand hard. “I’ll see you around.”
i know it hasn't been the best year | babe/toye for skew_whiff
Babe and Joe from Oh Two Hundred Hours, one year on.
When Babe comes back from visiting his family, ladened down with a plate of leftovers and a pile of clothing that his mother patched up for them, he can hear Joe shouting in the apartment before he even manages to get the door open. “Come on,” he says to the doorknob, trying to jiggle it open while the leftovers threaten to spill down his arm. Joe’s insulting someone’s mother from inside.
When he gets in the door, Babe sets the plate on the counter and heads down the hall. Light is streaming out from the bathroom, and when Babe stops in the doorway Joe glances up at him and grunts out a “Hey.” He’s soaked, their bathroom sink looks busted, and there’s a thin film of water covering half the tile.
“The hell,” Babe says.
Joe grimaces and pulls his shirt over his head, the wet fabric peeling away from his skin. He wads it up and pushes it around the leak in the pipe. “That’ll hold it,” Babe says, dryly.
“I need a different wrench for the nut,” Joe says, gesturing. “It’s too small.” He pushes himself to his feet, grabbing his crutches from the floor.
Babe shifts the pile of clothes in his hands and remembers, “Ma asked me when I was gonna get a wife.” He rubs the bridge of his nose and then pushes the clothes toward Joe, a clean shirt on the top. Joe chuckles, says, “What? She doesn’t know you’re the wife?”
“Aw, fuck you.”
Joe laughs again - switching to a cuss as his crutch slips in the puddle on the floor. “These fucking things,” he says. “I get off balance and put my hand on the sink and the whole goddamn thing breaks on me.”
Babe steps all the way into the bathroom, positioning himself between Joe and the hall, and laughs. “Jesus. My ma keeps telling you you got too much muscle, you’d be a hazard if you’re not careful.” Joe pushes hard on his shoulder in return, using the leverage to hop past the water and onto the wood floor. As he readjusts his crutches, he grimaces, says, “That isn’t it.”
He heads down the hall before Babe can reply, calling out “Gonna go borrow a wrench,” and slamming the door behind him.
from this meme.