(Untitled)

[soldier_singled]

It's been about an hour and Joe's been sitting on his bed with his heels on the edge of the mattress, biting the edge of his thumbnail and working his way through two cigarettes, one after the other. Every morning since they've both been there, he's been woken up by Web opening the door between the rooms. Every morning, but now it's mid-morning,

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[thewordofweb]

I'd woken up at dawn thanks to the trusty circadian rhythms my body has come to produce and when I went to check on Joe, things went downhill very quickly. And no, no, it wasn't that I was upset because of our fight. I'm a big boy, I can handle it. I can even handle the inexplicably awkward kiss that I've written off as a mistake.

What I can't handle is waking up with tits. Tits and long hair and distinctly lacking various other parts of anatomy and one look in the shiniest surface I can find told me that yes, I was for all intents and purposes, a woman.

That had been when I crawled back into bed in my Harvard sweatshirt, baggy shorts and socks, dragged the covers over my head and resolved to wait it out. As if suffering a cold. I thought it'd be okay, even, until suddenly I hear the door swing open and I cringe heavily, curling tighter on myself and kicking myself for unlocking the door when I had meant to lock it tightly.

Shit. Go away, Joe, just go away. Think I'm pissed at you, I think in a constant litany.

[soldier_singled]

"Look, Web," says Joe, feeling a little awkward but determined to stick it out because he's a Paratrooper goddamnit, and he's not going to act like...

He's not leaving.

"I know you're pissed at me. After...I know you're pissed. But you've got to eat."

[thewordofweb]

In my head, I go through a litany of about ten swear words and then switch to German and swear a little more because of course Joe is this stubborn and determined and of course I can't escape this unscathed and sleep whatever this little bug is off. I don't move and the covers are my only bastion at this point.

All Joe gets is a grunt, because I don't need to eat. (Well, yes, yes, I do, as my growling stomach informs me, but fear of humiliation wins out, every time). Maybe, maybe I can feign sleep, at this point and I keep my eyes on the light coming in through the covers, still whispering to myself for Joe to go.

[soldier_singled]

During the long, sleepless night, Joe had sort of hoped that they were going to pretend that...it hadn't happened, but evidently that ain't gonna be the fuckin' case. Joe's jaw tightens and he takes a quick drag on his cigarette.

"Fuck," he hisses and then more out of habit than anything, he bends over and picks one of Web's t-shirts up off the floor. Back home, all those kids, he spent his life picking up the house for his Ma.

Maybe this ain't so different.