Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+. Pairings: Jake Seresin x f!reader Disclaimer: This is a series reflecting on the true events of the US Marines in WW2. All of the characters are fictional and not based off are original characters (except for Jake Seresin) and they are not representations of the real, brave men who fought in WW2. I have tried to make all the events in this series as accurate as possible but please bare in mind this is fanfiction and i have added/ changed certain things to fit with this.
Ugh, man, I gotta go to beddd... but just before I do, I'm requesting Destiel and B, please! No rush, obvs
Eeeh! Thank you! <3 This was really fun and I wrote it in all of like, an hour. So, this is Destiel - Under the cover of darkness. Enjoy! ^-^
I call this little number: Words Said in Darkness.
Psst! AO3 link.
—
The air inside the bar was warm and stifling and the clang of human chatter was almost too much for Dean. The choked feeling in his throat wouldn’t dissipate. His hands were sweaty and his heart was beating far too fast for comfort. It had been far too long since he’d walked the floors of the Roadhouse, but even now, with the suffocating number of people around him and his buddies in their uniforms already dispersing to find lovely ladies to entice for the night, there was only one face he was looking for.
He traversed through the chaos of tables, chairs, and drunkards to the bar. If possible, his heartbeat sped up as a mop of raven hair came into view. The owner of this inky black hair currently had his neck bent and was so focused on drying a glass, Dean thought he might shatter it with his piercing gaze alone.
There was a moment, just a single moment, where Dean thought to turn and run the other way. Of course, he would never do that. Not even if you paid him, because just the possibility of seeing that gorgeous, gummy smile had his heart soaring. He swept over to the bar and leaned on it, clearing his throat to get the attention of the dark-haired man before him. “Evenin’, sunshine. I could use a whiskey. Neat, if you don’t mind.”
Castiel’s head shot up, his blue eyes wide in astonishment. He breathed a single word, “Dean.”
—
Castiel was, simply put, exhausted. He’d already had a steady stream of soldiers on leave from their assorted bases, all of them boasting about how they’d soon be “kicking some Nazi ass” or “showing Mr. Hitler who’s boss”. In actuality, he knew that as soon as they set foot on the battlefield, they would be terrified. Perhaps, he thought, it was better that they at least had their confidence to hide behind.
The night was going well, he supposed. His popularity with the ladies that frequented the bar could not be understated which usually resulted in some… interesting chats. In the moment at hand though, all of his energy was being focused onto one glass. He idly wondered how Dean was doing - idly, as if he didn’t always wonder about that exact thing - and if he was in good health.
As Castiel was about to put the glass down, a deep voice laced with bravado that inhabited so many of his dreams called out, “Evenin’, sunshine. I could use a whiskey. Neat, if you don’t mind.”
His head had never shot up so fast. In front of him, clad in his army uniform, with his light brown, teetering on blonde hair glinting in the light of the bar, green eyes focused on him and only him, stood Dean Winchester. “Dean,” Castiel whispered into the empty space. The words came out reverently. Nearly like a prayer. Truthfully, that what Dean’s name was; a prayer. Or, rather, the answer to one.
Vaguely, Castiel realized that Dean’s mouth was moving but he didn’t register a single word. Before he knew what was happening, he was being led outside of the bar at a respectable distance. The second they made it out into the fresh night air, Castiel found himself pushed up against a wall, Dean’s face inches from his own.
Dean’s emerald eyes looked mystical, nearly magical in the moonlight. The air between them was filled with tension and unspoken words. “Cas,” Dean whispered.
Castiel tangled his fingers in Dean’s hair, not caring that he was getting hair gel on his fingers. He stared into the emerald oceans before him, searching for the comfort he’d been missing since the second Dean left him months ago, and finding it. The staring continued for what seemed like seconds and eons at the same time. Then, as if they had reached some sort of unspoken agreement, Castiel allowed himself to lean in and press his lips to Dean’s soft, warm ones.
Dean reacted as passionately as he did the first time they did this, pushing back and giving as good as he got. Dean’s whole body radiated warmth, making Castiel’s skin dance with heat, even in the cool air of that spring night. He wanted nothing better than to allow Dean to swallow him whole, pull him closer than he ever thought possible. Sparks danced between their lips as they both desperately tried to make up for lost time. Castiel nipped and Dean’s lips and at some point, it became a heated clash of teeth and tongues.
Eventually, Castiel lost track of time and allowed himself to become completely absorbed in the kiss. The effect was spell-binding. And, after what seemed like forever, and yet not long enough, Dean pulled away, gasping for air. “Holy shit,” he mumbled.
Castiel’s lips twitched upwards. “There was nothing holy about that, Dean,” he said, running his thumb over Dean’s cheek.
Dean huffed a breathless laugh. “Fuck you.”
“Here?” Castiel asked.
Dean hit Castiel’s arm, obviously not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to get his point across. Though, Dean’s eyes twinkled with pride. He knew that he had a hand in teaching Castiel how to include this many innuendos in his speech.
Castiel tipped his head back and drank in the cool air. It sent refreshing blades of ice running through his lungs. “I didn’t know you were coming back,” he mumbled.
Dean sighed, his breathing a little uneven. “Neither did I.”
They shared a moment where Dean was just holding Castiel like nothing else mattered. Silent and grateful to be together.
Castiel eyed Dean carefully. “How long until you ship out?”
“No idea,” Dean replied, moving to rest his forehead on Castiel’s shoulder. “Could be days, weeks, or months. Bosses are still planning it out but it looks like I’ll be stationed somewhere over in Britain for a while before movin’ out.”
Castiel nodded silently. Ever since he met Dean when the man was first on leave and stopped in at the Roadhouse for a drink, he had known the day would come when he would ship out. It just terrified him. After all, Castiel felt so attached to the man and there were… words that he couldn’t - shouldn’t - say to someone who could die in the next few months. These were also words that he certainly shouldn’t say to a man. It could get them both killed and they knew it.
He was jolted out of his thoughts by Dean’s knuckles softly brushing over his cheek. “You back with me yet, sunshine?”
He nodded, swallowing thickly. “How have you been?” he asked, doing his best to divert Dean’s attention from his jumbled up mess of feelings.
Dean sighed and leaned closer, pressing his forehead to Castiel’s. “Been okay. I mostly… I mostly missed you, I guess,” he mumbled bashfully. That was the thing about Dean Winchester, he could say the most vulgar things without batting an eye, but if you asked him to say how he felt, he turned into a blushing grade-schooler. However, the endearing nature of this was not to be understated.
Castiel managed a gentle, soft smile, despite his tumultuous thoughts and feelings that begged to be heard. “I missed you too, Dean.”
Dean let out a strained breath. “This is so fucked up. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, Cas.” He stepped back, away from Castiel and out of his space.
Castiel fought away the choked, rejected feeling that bubbled up in his chest. “For what, Dean?” he asked gently. It was hard to get information out of Dean without causing him to burst, though, Castiel considered himself an expert on the subject by now.
Dean turned his back on Castiel and tilted his head up towards the sky as if he was searching for some answers that only the moon and stars could provide him. Castiel reached out and placed a gentle hand on Dean’s shoulder. Instead of recoiling, like he half expected Dean to, the other man stayed put under his gentle touch.“I’m… God, I’m sorry for doing this to you. You deserve so much fucking better,” Dean whispered.
This… this confused Castiel more than anything the man had ever said. This included Dean’s references to music and singers that Castiel didn’t know. “Better…? Dean, I-”
Before he could say another word, Dean turned around and cut him off, sentences spilling out, rushed, as if he needed to say it before he lost the nerve, “You deserve better than this! I came back into your life after weeks of not seeing you and then pushed you into the first available alley and used you- Fuck! You deserve someone who won’t be leaving to go off and fight and possibly die in France or Germany or wherever the hell we’re storming! Someone who will stay here and make you breakfast in bed and just… Be able to say and be everything you deserve.” Dean’s eyes were frantic, desperate, and searching.
Castiel took Dean’s hands, offering a calming presence. “Dean, it’s not of import to me whether you’ll be here for a month, a week, a day, an hour, a minute, or even just one more second. All that matters to me is that you mean the world to me. I’ve had much time to think and dream and the conclusion that I came to is that… I love you. And I will wait for you until the war is over and you come home. All that I ask is that you make it back to me safely, understand? Your safety is the most crucial thing for me.”
A pregnant pause filled the air. Dean’s eyes were wide in astonishment, taking in Castiel’s words as if he couldn’t quite believe them. Then, moments later, he pressed his lips to Castiel’s again but, unlike their first kiss in the alley, it was just a soft press of lips. No heat or urgency, just two people memorizing each other, desperate to hold onto a single memory before it would be lost to the night.
Dean’s lips soon moved to Castiel’s neck and in between soft kisses, the whispered words, “I love you, I love you, I love you,” were pressed into Castiel’s skin. Soon, the two would have to part. Soon, Dean Winchester would be sent to Normandy and would nearly lose his life on Omaha Beach. Soon, Hitler would perish and the war would be over. But before any of that could happen, the two of them stood in an alleyway under the cover of darkness, saying words they would never be brave enough to speak in the light of day.
After all, words said in the dark are often the most secretive, the most precious, and the most dangerous. But, even years after, when Dean would return to Castiel’s arms after the war, Castiel would still hold the memory of that alleyway close, because it was the first time Dean truly allowed him to see every inch of his bared soul. At last, there were no secrets and no lies, just two people, fighting for a love that would never be recognized or appreciated. A love that could easily get both of them killed.
Words said under the cover of darkness and the cover of night are truly the most beautiful and the most truthful.
Synopsis: Bob Floyd never expected to fall in love during the war, especially not with a pretty, young nurse during basic training. But love works in funny ways and can their love stand the rest of time, the war and the distance that separates them. Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Austria May to August 1945
Hitler was dead. The Germans had surrendered. The war was over in Europe.
Bob’s blue eyes gazed lazily over the tranquil landscape, the birds were singing, a light breeze brushing gently through the trees, the aquamarine lake was still. Bob couldn’t believe that in all the destruction they had witnessed a beautiful scene like this lay between all of it. After all this bloodshed somehow Easy Company had ended up in this paradise. The ruckus behind Bob pulled him reluctantly from his thoughts as Albert and several of the other paratroopers came running down the path, dressed in their PT kits and barefoot.
“Come on, Bob,” Albert called, racing down to the stone jetty. The paratroopers all pulled their white T-shirts over their heads before diving into the calm water below. A chorus of hollers and whoops followed as they began to slash around in the shallows, throwing water at each other.
A joyful smile spread across Bob’s lips, his eyes shining slightly with unshed tears. This is how their lives should be, young and joyful, living full and happy lives. They all deserved this after the years of their youth that had been stolen by this god forsaken war.
“Bob, come on!” George, one of the other paratroopers hollered, his boyish grin infectious. He reminded Bob a lot of Jackson, his youthful enthusiasm making them all feel younger than their years.
“Alright, i'm coming down,” Bob called, beginning to undo his uniform jacket as he made his way down the slope and towards the jetty. He pulled his clothes off quickly, leaving himself in just his underwear before diving into the cool water below. It was colder than he expected, taking a sharp intake of air as he resurfaced, coming face to face with the smiling men around him. Bob laughed loudly, throwing water at Albert, shouting gleefully. They spent the rest of the afternoon swimming and splashing around in the waters edge. By the time Bob and Albert were sitting back on the jetty their skin was pale and wrinkled from their time in the water.
“What will you do after this?” Albert asked, eyeing Bob curiously, squinting in the late afternoon sun.
“Probably get some food, I guess,” Bob sighed, toying with the wedding band hanging from his dog tags.
Albert groaned, letting out a light laugh, “no I mean after the war, when you go home.”
“I don’t know. We don’t even know if we are going home yet. Captain Nelson said that it’s highly likely we’ll be redeployed to the Pacific.” Bob sighed, he’d love more than anything to go home, back to the States with his wife. It had been five months since he’d last seen (y/n), since he’d last held her in his arms, kissed her. Bob dreamed of the day they would be reunited, finally able to be together as man and wife should be.
“But after that, well I’m gonna go home, back to Louisiana with (y/n). We’re gonna have a big house with lots of room for all our little Floyd’s.” Bob smiled at the image, thinking of (y/n) sitting on the swinging bench on the porch, a baby in her arms while she watched their other children playing in the garden, Bob by her side.
“Me too,” Albert replied, his eyes overcast and tearful. “You know I haven’t even seen my baby girl grow up. She’s gonna be four years old before I get home to her, I missed so much.” He let out a strangled sob, burying his head in his hands. Bob was a little stunned, in all that they had been through Albert had rarely cried, never showing his true emotions. Gripping hold of the man beside him, Bob pulled him into a desperate hug, ignoring the feeling of their damp skin against each other. He pressed a small kiss to the medic hair, cradling him, rocking him slowly. Before the war Bob could never imagine having this kind of connection with another man, he’d had male friends and they’d hugged each other before but with Albert it was different. He loved him. Not in the way he loved (y/n) but he loved him and he would die for him. Albert’s tears eventually slowed, his sobs becoming quiet mumbles into Bob’s chest. “It’s ok Albert, I’m gonna get you home to them. I promised you back at Toccoa I would. I’m not about to break that promise.”
Albert looked up at him, tear stained cheeks, his bottom lip wobbling slightly.
“Thank you, Bob. Thank you for everything.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bob’s knuckles wrapped on the large oak door, waiting for a reply to enter. The voice from the other side was gruff but Bob knew that was just the way Nelson spoke to everyone.
“You wanted to see me, Sir,” Bob stepped into the room, closing the door quietly behind him. He removed his cap, tucking it into the belt of his uniform before saluting the Captain.
“Floyd, take a seat.” He motioned for Bob to take a seat on the otherside of the desk, perching on the edge of the chair in anticipation. Nelson took a log sip of his coffee, savouring the taste and almost killing Bob with the suspense. “Do you know why I called you here?”
“No Sir,” Bob replied hurriedly.
“I called you here because the army has a proposition for you, a battlefield commission to make you a Lieutenant if you’d like to pursue a career in the army after the war.” Nelson spoke firmly but his eyes shone with the unspoken adoration that he had for all his men. “You have proven yourself to be an exceptional soldier and an even more exceptional man. It has been an honour to serve beside you.”
“Sir, the honour has been mine…” Bob began but Captain Nelson raised his hand, cutting off his speech.
“Now don’t be so modest now, Sergeant. Now I understand that you have a wife, correct.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“And I’m sure you are desperate to return to her.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“But this is a great opportunity and one that I would not wish for you to pass over lightly but I do understand your situation. I haven’t seen my wife and daughters for God knows how long. I have missed much of their childhood and I would not wish that on any man.”
Bob nodded in agreement, he already knew his answer. “Truthfully Sir, I am honoured but I have fought long and hard for my country, I have bled and lost friends for my country and I would really like to go home to my wife.”
Captain Nelson nodded, “I suspected as much and honestly I cannot blame you. I wish you and your wife a long and happy life full of peace. Happy VJ Day Sergeant Floyd, you're going home.”
“Sir, is it… really?” Bob stared back in disbelief.
Synopsis: Bob Floyd never expected to fall in love during the war, especially not with a pretty, young nurse during basic training. But love works in funny ways and can their love stand the rest of time, the war and the distance that separates them. Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ardennes Offensive - Bastogne December 1944
On the silver screen, John Wayne dressed in his Naval whites and Marlene Dietrich conversed, their figures dancing across the cracked wall as the projector shone the bright light onto it. Bob’s eyes followed the moving pictures thoughtlessly, his mind too busy with the prospect of a weekend with his wife. (Y/n) was currently stationed at a hospital near Paris, to Bob’s great relief. It meant that she was safe, she was reasonably out of harm's way. Miller and Jackson sat on either side of him, both their eyes trained on the makeshift movie screen.
“This film sucks, I’ve seen it before,” Jackson grumbled, earning a harsh shhh from the paratroopers in front of him. Jackson snapped his mouth shut, sinking into his chair with a pout on his young face. The lights above their head flickered on, the movie coming to a stop as two Lieutenants marched down between the aisles of chairs, ignoring the protests gc from the men. Lieutenant Nelson, who had been sat to the left of Bob, had his lips set in a hard, thin line, eyebrows furrowed as if he knew the impending doom that was going to be thrust upon them.
“Elements of the 1st and the 6th Panzer division have broken through in the Ardennes forest. Now they have broken through the 28th infantry and elements of the 4th. All officers report to respective HQs, all passes are cancelled.” A loud eruption of complaints filled the hall, all cursing, swearing, and praying to god. Bob felt his heart sink into his stomach, feeling the letter he'd written to y/n nestled in his breast pocket, waiting to be sent. He’d been relieved to see her again in Paris, while the other men were excited to blow some cash all he wanted to do was hold her close and know that for just that moment she was safe.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The trucks tumbled along the dark roads, rocking back and forth over potholes and shaking the paratroopers that occupied them. The men huddled together in a desperate attempt to share their warmth, the frigid conditions caused a domino effect of shivers. Bob’s breath fanned across his face, icy droplets freezing nearly in mid-air and casting a mist over his face with each exhale. One man was passing a cigarette around, each man taking a long drag before passing it on to the next, the warm smoke filling their lungs, creating a small sense of comfort. The convoy shuddered to a halt and the soldiers hopped out, Bob suppressed a cry as his frozen feet hit the already-frozen ground. Thick snow poured over the edge of his boots, dampening his socks and causing him to shudder. Around them small fires appeared as fellow soldiers poured petrol into holes, lighting them to add some warmth to the glacial landscape, small furnaces of hope amongst the dismay atmosphere.
“I’m freezing my ass off already,” Jackson grumped, digging his hands deeper into his ODs pockets.
“You and me both,” Albert replied, teeth chattering uncontrollably. Bob just hummed in response, too cold to even find a reply.
“Let’s get moving. We’re in for a cold one, Boys.” Captain Nelson called out, ushering the paratroopers forward.
“But Sir, we’re gonna be surrounded.” A replacement private called out, his uniform new and shiny and he looked youthful, fresh-faced which is something many of the young men had lost.
“We’re paratroopers son, we’re meant to be surrounded.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bright crimson seeped through the once-white crisp sheets, spreading the red stain deep into the fabric. The sheets that just moments before had held a soldier fighting for his life, as (y/n) worked tirelessly to stop the fountain of blood surging from his artery as the medic placed clamps in an attempt to stem the bleeding. It had been so pointless really to try and save him, he was long gone before he reached the medics' tent, his blood strewn across the crisp, white snow outside, but if you don’t try then you don’t know. Each of these men had fought in honour of their country and this man deserved to die safe and somewhat warm rather than in a foxhole in the dark somewhere. Or that’s what she told herself, gathering up the bloody sheets that had dried brown and crispy.
Screams of pain filled the aid station and (y/n) tried her best to block out the agonising wails of the men she passed, as if she could not hear them, as if it were a silent theatre production. When she first arrived in the field she had been left shaken and terrified, but as (y/n) worked and gained confidence as a nurse she grew used to the screams, the agony, the thick iron scent that filled her nostrils and the blood that dried sticky to her hands, the never-ending death that surrounded everyone.
The rain had started about half an hour ago and it echoed above her head on the canvas sheet, much softer than the gunfire just hours before. The sound of shelling in the distance and the occasional flash of gunfire reminded (y/n) of just how close to the battlefield she was, and as she stepped outside the scene of bloodshed continued. The battlefield lay quiet, for it was now a graveyard of the unburied. Their corpses lay among the debris of the battle, deep craters littered the area and the ground was slick with rain and blood. A bitter wind swept across the clearing, causing her to shiver, gritting her teeth as she walked along the risen, wooden platforms to the wash tent. (Y/n) abandoned the bloody sheets with one of her fellow nurses, (y/n) didn’t think she’d be able to remove the stains, but knew she would try. They were running low on supplies, so stained sheets were better than nothing.
(Y/n’s) dress blew around her ankles as she walked back to the aid station, the night would be long and with the continued shelling she knew more casualties would be arriving soon. Taking a moment to stop outside the tent, she leaned against the large wooden pole that supported the air station and sighed. Closing her eyes, she took a moment to breathe in the cold night air, placing a hand on her chest so she could feel the frantic beat of her heart beneath her fingers. Her ragged breaths let out steamy puffs of air into the darkness, rising above her like the smoke from the various fires dotted around the battlefield. (Y/n) moved to the left as another group of soldiers approached the aid station, carrying a wounded comrade between them. She could tell from the way he hung limp in their arms, face pale that he was dead but they hurried past her, fear evident on their faces, but the hint of hope in their eyes driving them forward.
She looked out across the scene of devastation, eyes drifting over the fallen soldiers, discarded weapons and rubble. Her eyes drifted to a figure that was hovering in the tree line, he took a seat beside one of the trees, his back hitting the tree with a thud as he slid down the bark to plant himself by the roots. His shoulders sagged and he was bent over, cradling his head in the palms of his hands. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d last seen Bob since he’d last held her in his arms since he’d last kissed her. It had been just two months since their wedding and yet it felt like years had passed. When she was first stationed in Bastogne (y/n) knew he was close by and dug in a foxhole somewhere in the Ardennes but to actually see him in front of her made her heart sore and she felt lightheaded.
When they had first met, his blond hair had been neatly parted and gelled down, silver framed glasses balanced on his nose, but now his face was weathered, covered in grime and blood, his blond hair in disarray and his glasses long since broken or lost. His once clean uniform was now scruffy and worn and the ‘screaming eagle’ insignia was barely visible under the layers of dirt. His helmet rested on the log beside him, the white spade emblem glowing against its dark background. (Y/n) pushed herself away from the tent and followed the wooden pathway towards the woods. The path didn’t follow the whole way to the trees and soon she was trudging through the copper-coloured mud, her boots slipping and sliding as she tried to keep her balance.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bob sat on the fallen tree, silently cursing the cold, cursing East Company’s new commander, having had Nelson promoted they were stuck with an inexperienced Lieutenant, cursing the Germans, cursing the whole damn war. He swore under his breath as his frozen fingers caught against the rough tree bark. All of his cursing was silent or mere whispers, as first Sergeant it was his job to keep up the morale amongst the men, a job that was becoming increasingly difficult as they were bombarded with shelling every night. It was during those nights when Bob was huddled deep in his foxhole with Jackson that he thought of you. He longed to see (y/n) again, your wedding feeling like an eternity ago when neither of them had any care in the world, for those three glorious days it was just the two of them. It hit him hard and suddenly - with a deep ache in his chest. He seemed to long for her more now than he ever had before. She had been his rock since Toccoa and now when times were at their toughest he craved her embrace.
Bob placed his hand on his chest, feeling (y/n’s) picture in his breast pocket, it was crumpled and worn, the corners curling over from the hours Bob had spent lovingly looking at her, running his thumb over her face. He needed a new picture, the one from his wedding day. He remembered the photographer telling them both to look at the camera and smile, as if they both weren’t beaming at each other, unable to drag his eyes away from his new wife. He would never forget how beautiful she looked, her makeshift wedding dress hugging her curves perfectly, her hair neatly pinned and her lips blessed with a splash of red lipstick. Bob let out a sigh, a small smile gracing his lips as his mind began to wander, too distracted to notice the approaching figure.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bob’s head whipped around as she approached, his shoulders tensed, his eyes scanning the darkness.
“Flash?” He called out, waiting for her reply to know if she was an ally or the enemy.
“Thunder,” (y/n) called out in reply, watching as Bob visibly relaxed as she replied with the correct countersign.
“Welcome,” he stood as she approached him, a wide smile gracing his lips, as she grinned back at him.
“Doll,” he cradled her face lovingly between his hands, running his thumb across her cheek so delicately as if she would crumble and disappear. (Y/n) knew he was trying to memorize her features like he did every time he saw her, it was as if he feared that each time would always be the last.
“Hey love,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper as she sunk into his embrace. His eyes raked over her frame, not in the hungry way that most of the men did but with a small smile. Her hand cradled the back of his neck, her fingers playing with the hair at the base of his neck before pulling him down, her lips connected with his chapped ones. The kiss was tender yet passionate, full of the loving embrace that (y/n) had been longing for so long and that her letters just couldn’t convey. He pulled away briefly, his hot breath ghosting her skin bringing (y/n) back to the present as his lips began to press along her ear and neck.
“God, I’ve missed you.” He whispered, his blue eyes shining in the dim light with unshed tears.
“I missed you too, Bobby,” she swooped your thumb across his cheek, brushing away his tears. He pulled her down onto the log beside him, his arm wrapping tightly around her shoulders as he held her as if his life depended on it. Bob’s hand brushed over the stack of papers beside him, not daring to look down at them.
“What are you doing out here, Bobby?” (Y/n) asked, watching as his eyes drifted to the paper and pen in front of him, thumbing them between his thumb and forefinger.
“I’m writing letters home.”
“Oh, are you writing to your family? How are they keeping? ” She grinned at him, she wanted a distraction, so to hear the odd story from home was always welcome. (Y/n) couldn’t wait to meet his family when all this was over and when they could escape this hell together.
“I’m writing letters to my fallen comrades’ families, I feel I owe them that much. The army sends them the same bullshit condolences letters, but they didn’t know them, not like I did. I knew each and every man, where they came from, their hobbies, they were my brothers,” his voice was thick with emotion and tears brimmed in his eyes, threatening to fall. “You know it’s Christmas soon, hell they’ll probably get these letters right before Christmas.”
“I know you did, Love, I know,” (y/n) let her fingers trace the grimy marks along his neck, trailing loosely along the metal chain of his dog tags.
She looked on slowly as Bob tried to compose himself.
“I understand your pain, I watch the soldiers come back from the front blown to pieces and littered with bullet holes. It is heart-wrenching, to hear their screams of agony. Time and time again they cry for their mothers, and I can’t help them.”
Bob placed his hand under her chin, lifting it so he could look into her eyes. His eyes held all the woes of the world, the pain, the devastation, the love.
He wrapped his large outer coat around her shoulders, trying to shelter her from the cold. (Y/n) let out a strangled sob, her hand fisting into his jacket.
Bob pressed his lips to her hair, murmuring softly. “Don’t you dare think you don’t make a difference? All the men that have been returned to my company after being cared for by you and your fellow nurses speak so highly of you. You bring them comfort in their time of need and you love them in their final moments. The calm you bring is a gift from God. Don’t ever think you don’t make a difference. I may be their brother but you are their angel in the darkest times. You're my angel.”
Bob poured his heart out to her, confessing his feelings as she watched him carefully for any sign of lie as he spoke, but his face never changed, his eyebrows knitted in a firm line, lips moving softly as he spoke.
“It is not a gift. God would not give so much pain,” (y/n) sniffed. “You know you’re kind of my angel too,” she rubbed her hand over her cheeks. “I’ve been blaming myself for so long, every man we lost, each death has stayed with me and I can’t keep it bottled up anymore.”
“You don’t have to, you don’t have to, Doll. I’m here just like you’re here for me. Please don’t ever blame yourself.” Bob cupped her cheek in his large hand, his rough, calloused thumb brushing against her soft skin.
“Then don’t blame yourself either, Bob. I’ve seen how you are with your men, you’d do anything for them.”
Bob nodded, a small smile gracing his chapped lips.
“Would you like some help writing those letters? I know I didn’t know your men that well, but I may have been with them at the end. I know what they said.” (Y/n) took Bob’s hand in hers, running her fingers delicately over his cracked knuckles and squeezing his hand comfortingly.
“I’d like that very much.” She huddled closer on the log, Bob pulled the bag of dog tags from his pocket, fishing out one at a time to go through the names.
With each name, (y/n’s) heart wrenched at the thought of their poor mothers, girlfriends and wives receiving the heartbreaking news. It made her think of her brother, he was in the Marines fighting in the Pacific Theatre. She wrote to him, telling him all about Bob and he couldn’t wait to meet him when all this was over, but the thought of receiving a letter like this for him or Bob only brought further tears.
She dreaded receiving a letter like that from Albert telling her that Bob was gone. (Y/n) couldn’t even begin to imagine what it must be like to receive that doomed letter. Bob must have seen her worried expression because he took her face between his hands.
“I’m here, Doll and I’m not going anywhere. I love you,” he admitted, his eyes watching hers for any flicker of rejection but there was none. You smiled brightly at him, cupping his cheek and running your thumb over his lips. “I love you too.”
Bob pressed his lips to hers, his fingers stroking through her bloody, matted hair, as she held onto the collar of his uniform, gripping it in desperation. His tongue ran along her lips and she gave in, letting his tongue dance with her own. She only pulled away when they had both run out of air, an embarrassed smile on Bob’s lips, his cheeks tinted pink. “I’m so glad I married you.” He whispered against the shell of your ear. “I’m so glad I made you mine.”
She sighed at his words, eyes closed, imagining their future together, a house of their own, living normal lives, maybe they would have a dog, maybe they would have a baby.
“I can’t wait to start our lives together, Bobby.” She admitted and felt his lips press against her neck once more. She wanted to stay like this forever but her hand brushed against the papers on Bob’s lap and she realised that they had a lot of work ahead of them.
“Well we better get back to writing those letters hadn't we, 1st Sergeant,” she smiled at him, taking the pen and paper from his grip. He smiled back at her, as she used his ‘new’ rank. The last time she had seen Bob he’d completely forgotten to mention his promotion, too caught up in his newlywed bliss. It wasn’t until she received a letter from him several weeks later that she found out. (Y/n) was so proud of him, Bob had proved himself time and time again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Between them, there were 18 letters written and sealed, ready to send to the awaiting families. (Y/n) looked up at Bob to see a relieved smile on his lips. “I may not have been able to help them in life, but at least I can bring their families some comfort in grief.” She squeezed Bob’s hand gently before standing and straightening her dress.
“Well, I better be going back. My patients need me,” she smiled apologetically at Bob, but he just smiled back.
“Please don’t go,” Bob pleaded, his watery eyes glistening in the moonlight.
“I’ll come back, my love, I promise but I have to go now.” She rubbed her hand over his cheek once more before stepping away, following the muddy path back towards the aid station, where she was met with the sounds of agonised screams. Taking a deep breath before entering the tent, Bob’s words rang in her mind as she hurried down between the isles of beds towards the medics.
“HOLD HIM DOWN!” Albert Miller shouted as she wrapped her arms over the wounded soldier. “Give him morphine,” Albert instructed and (y/n) grabbed the shot, injecting the medication into the soldier's leg. He groaned in agony, but slowly his movements slowed and he looked up at her, teary-eyed and with a toothy grin, “Are you an angel?” He asked, his voice weak as he feebly attempted to reach out to her.
“I am, Sweetheart, and I’m going to look after you.” He gazed up at her in awe, his eyes slowly closing as the morphine took effect. The medics began to work on his wound as (y/n) cradled his hand for a moment longer. She was going to look after him and Bob was right, to these men she was an angel.
Synopsis: Bob Floyd never expected to fall in love during the war, especially not with a pretty, young nurse during basic training. But love works in funny ways and can their love stand the rest of time, the war and the distance that separates them. Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+, smut, language Thank you @callsign-phoenix for proofreading for me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mourmelon- le- grand and Paris, December 1944
Bob couldn’t believe his luck when Easy Company had been given passes to Paris for some down time. They had been fighting hard and morale was low. The boys missed home, they missed their families and the death that surrounded them on a daily basis was taking its toll on everyone. Captain Nelson had approached the men at the bar on the outskirts of Mourmelon-le-grand, France where they were spending their evening relaxing after a hard day's training. It had been a relief being pulled from the front line for a while, but the training was nearly as bad as Toccoa.
A round of laughter from a table nearby drew Bob’s attention momentarily. A small smile tugged on the corners of his lips in response. It had been far too long since the men of Easy Company were surrounded by laughter, having lost their carefree attitudes. A screen of smoke filled the bar, creating a fumy and filmy haze like looking through a dirty window. Bob sat in a corner with Albert discussing the day's events whilst the cries from Private Jackson could be heard as he lost yet another game of darts to a Sergeant from Dog Company.
“The kid never learns,” Albert mumbled, taking a long swig from his beer glass, leaning back further in his chair until it was rocking on just two legs. Bob nodded in agreement, taking a drink from his own glass and allowing the weak, amber liquid to slide down his throat, bringing some ease to his nerves.
“ATTENTION!” All the men stood to attention, backs straight, hands flat to their sides.
“At ease gentlemen,” Captain Nelson spoke, his voice smooth and level. “I bring good news, you've all been granted a 4 day pass to Paris for some R and R. You've been working hard and the Colonel has decided to be generous. Now, I know that the fine men of Easy Company are always on their best behavouir,” a small smirk appeared on the Captain’s face as the room erupted with laughter. “But try to stay out of trouble, I don't want any extra paperwork. Your passes are from tomorrow so tonight enjoy yourselves boys, you've earned it.”
The room soon filled with cheers and the sound of glasses clinking together, laughter and utter joy. Bob stood quickly, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, without a second glance.
“Hey, where are you going? Dont leave me with this drunken rabble,” Miller whined, watching as Bob retreated through the sea of bustling bodies, all swaying drunkenly.
“I have to write to (y/n). I'll see you later,” Bob shouted back, not bothering to turn around as he headed for the exit to the bar.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
To my darling (y/n),
How I’ve missed you, my love. Things here have been tough. We’ve lost a lot of good men and morale has been low. Albert is suffering, I think it’s finally taking its toll on him. I’ve tried to reach out to him but he’s become closed off and distant. In truth, I am worried for him. Anytime we lose someone I can’t help but think at least it wasn’t me. I fear I have become too used to the atrocities I have witnessed, I fear I am not the same man that you agreed to marry.
Nelson has managed to get Easy Company a 3-day pass to Paris, I believe he’s hoping to raise our spirits seeing the city but honestly, I think we will all be spending a lot of time in bed catching up on some much-needed rest. We are due to arrive in Paris next Wednesday and I would dearly love it if you could join me. I miss you so much my darling.
Please let me know your answer. I look forward to seeing you in the city of love, Doll.
Yours always
Bobby
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In truth, East Company had received a 4-day pass to Paris but Bob didn’t want (y/n) to arrive before he’d dragged a reluctant Albert around nearly every damn jeweller's store in the city looking for the perfect ring.
“What do you need my help for?” Albert had asked, bleary-eyed, his southern accent thick and raspy from sleep, as he propped himself up in his cot, watching Bob curiously.
“Because you’re already married and you’re good friends with (y/n),” Bob continued, not raising his eyes as he spoke and continued to pack his kit bag. Albert groaned, rolling back onto his side and bringing his pillow up to cover his head. “Go to bed, Bob,” he warned. Bob knew he was being a little forward considering he hadn’t officially asked her yet but he couldn’t help himself, his mind already racing with the thought of their future together.
Easy Company were catching the train to Paris, its carriages rocking precariously along the track as they neared the city. Bob’s leg bounced the whole way and Albert’s exasperated groans could be heard from time to time as Bob reeled off verbal diarrhoea about the scenery in an attempt to calm himself.
As the train pulled into the station there was a rush of shouting, as the wave of brown uniform-clad soldiers departed the train, pushing and shoving in the most unorthodox fashion. The streets of Paris were packed, bustling street stalls, soldiers crowded coffee shops, women dressed in flowing summer dresses, hair pinned to perfection and their lips dashed with red lipstick grinned at the men as they funnelled out of the station. Bob could hear a radio in the distance playing softly, the melodic tones of Vera Lynn filling his ears as the scene unfolded in front of him. Jackson disappeared into the crowd with some of the other paratroopers, heading to the nearest bar. Next to him, he could hear Albert talking to him, sounding far more bubbly than he had during the train journey.
“Floyd? Floyd, you with me?” Albert shook his shoulder a little, bringing Bob’s attention back to the brown-haired medic.
“Yeah, yeah I’m here.”
Albert grinned, “Good, because we’ve got to find your girl a ring.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Well I think it’s safe to say we’ve been to every jewellery shop in Paris,” Albert sighed, sinking onto the mattress with a sigh.
Bob didn’t reply, too busy staring down at the small diamond ring in front of him, the stone glistening in the candlelight.
“Yeah I think you’re right,” Bob replied plainly, he was barely paying attention as Albert continued to talk. The thought of (y/n) walking down the aisle wanting to spend the rest of her life with him was something Bob couldn’t even have imagined in his wildest dreams. A smile stayed firmly on his lips as he slept that night.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Y/n)‘s train arrived early the following morning, she’d been nervous the entire time, leg bouncing nervously. She wrung her hands together, picking worriedly at her broken nails trying to remove any remnant of the blood that seemed to stain deeper than just skin thick. There was a feeling in her gut that said, "no," but another in her heart that said, "yes." She loved Bob deeply but she feared for him, having seen so many men suffer and lose themselves to this war.
She stepped onto the platform with the rest of the passengers, her small bag held tightly in her hand as she ducked and weaved between the people and the smoke. The sun was shining brightly despite it being December, but there was a fierce chill in the air blowing her dress around the bottom of her knees as her shoes clicked on the pavements, following the crowds from the station. Once outside her face split into a grin, spotting two paratroopers staring in their dress uniform and leaning against the brick wall. Albert Miller looked the same as ever, his brown hair neatly gelled, his chin slightly stubbly and a cigarette wobbling from the edge of his mouth as he spoke. Bob on the other hand stood taller than before, his shoulders squared, not a hair out of place. He looked so very different to the Sargent you had held in your arms while he sobbed all those nights ago in the hospital. He had grown and matured much since Aldbourne and (y/n) couldn‘t help but run towards the men. Bob turned, hearing her footsteps approaching, he hurried towards her, scooping her with ease into her arms and spun her around, grinning uncontrollably. (Y/n) squealed as Bob turned around, his face buried in the crook of her neck.
“I missed you so much,” he murmured as he set her down, not daring to let her go.
“I missed you too, Bobby,” (y/n) could feel tears leaking down her face as she pulled back to look at her fiancé, seeing his cheeks damp with tears. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Bob caressed her cheek lovingly, wiping away her tears as he placed his chapped lips ever so gently against her own.
A small cough from behind them brought the lovers‘ attention to Albert, who awkwardly stood behind them, a dusting of pink spreading across his cheeks.
“I don’t mean to interrupt this touching reunion but I’m starving,” he admitted sheepishly. You broke out into a fit of laughter, pulling away from Bob and hurrying to greet Albert also.
“Well that will never do, come Albert let us find some food.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
(Y/n) gazed down at the small diamond ring on her finger. It didn’t yet feel real that this was finally happening, she was marrying the love of her life, in the city of love, in the middle of the war. Although she’d already told Bob yes, he’d proposed again anyway.
“I want to do this properly,” he’d told her, having already sent a letter to her parents who had given their blessing and only asked for a picture of their daughter in a wedding dress in return. Bob had promised her the world and even though all she wanted was him, he’d made sure that everything was accounted for.
“I could only afford one ring but I promise as soon as we’re back in the States I’ll buy us both wedding bands to make it official,” he promised, his hand cupping her cheek as he kissed her more passionately in the privacy of their hotel room.
(Y/n’s) head suddenly shot up, the realisation of a vital piece of equipment for their wedding was missing.
“Bob, I have nothing to wear,” (y/n) exclaimed, the nervous feeling building in the pit of her stomach, churning mercilessly as she looked at Bob, desperate for him to find an answer.
“Fear not my Sweets,” Bob appeared from the other room revealing a simple but beautifully elegant white silk dress. (Y/n) grasped hold of the fabric, running her fingers of the delicate, hand sewed seam, the occasional stitch as a little longer or slightly more space than others, but you’d never be able to tell.
“How did you afford this, Bob? It’s real silk!” (Y/n) exclaimed, her eyes wide at the thought of Bob spending a fortune on a dress she would only wear once.
“Do not worry, my Love,” he placed his hands on her shoulder, giving her a reassuring smile. “It merely cost me two packets of smokes and a huge favour owed to Albert.”
(Y/n) looked up at him, her brow furrowed and her bottom lip caught between her teeth.
“One of the Privates still had his reserve parachute from the jump into Holland, I traded him two packets of cigarettes for it and Albert did the rest.” Bob smiled proudly at his achievement as your face morphed into one of complete shock.
“Albert Miller sowed my wedding dress for me?”
“He sure did, Darlin’ and he’s gonna be there tomorrow to give you away should you wish him to.”
“Well how can I say no to that offer,” (y/n) beamed up at her fiancé, she didn’t think she could smile anymore, her cheeks hurting from the effort but her heart swelled.
“I love you, Sergeant Floyd.”
“I love you too, soon to be Mrs Floyd.” Bob leant down to kiss his fiancée but she pulled away, placing her hands onto his chest and pushing him towards the door.
“Now go, it's bad luck to see the bride before the wedding.”
“But…” Bob went to protest, but Albert was already behind him.
“Come on lover boy, you're bunking with me tonight. I'll see you in the morning, (y/n).”
“Goodnight Albert, take good care of my boy.”
“Always,” Albert smirked, dragging a reluctant Bob down the gloomy corridor to their own room, the candlelight dancing, casting shadows of the two men as they retreated.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Hot lips pressed a searing kiss to her neck, hands grabbing at the delicate silk fabric that adorned her body, her once neatly pinned hair was disheveled and hung loose around her shoulders.
“I don’t know what’s gotten into you my love, but don’t stop,” she gasped as Bob sunk his teeth into the sensitive skin at the base of her throat.
“You’ve gotten into me, Darlin’,” he sounded amused, which irritated her slightly. She felt so needy, desperate for him to stop his incessant teasing. His ego and self-confidence was driving her mad but she couldn’t do anything about it because she wanted him just as badly. The shy and quiet private she had met in Toccoa was long gone, the Sergeant that stood in front of her was out for blood.
“Bobby, please,” she whined, pressing her hips against his crotch and eliciting a loud moan from him.
“Darlin’, if you keep doing that I won’t be able to hold back,” he warned her. She could tell he was at the end of his tether, all she had to do was push him a little further. His lips brushed over her skin below her jaw and she had to clenched her hands in fists so she wouldn’t let out a moan. Bob’s hands traveled down her body, squeezed her backside. It took everything in her not to shake under his touch. It wasn‘t like they hadn’t been in this situation before, they had plenty of times, but this time it was different, this time they were man and wife.
Bob lifted her up and set her on the desk. He positioned himself between her legs leaning closer with each second. Their breaths mingled in a haze of lust as they looked at each other. Bob let out an animalistic groan, his pupils blown, lips moist and plump from the passionate make out session they’d had in the hallway. (Y/n) swallowed audibly. She licked her lips slowly while looking directly into his deep blue eyes. Y/N slided his jacket off his shoulders, letting it fall to the ground. Her fingers painted different shapes on his chest and abdomen, her fingers stopping once she got to the zip of his trousers.
“You aren’t gonna make me beg, are you my love?” Bob smirked, shuffling the dress up her legs and running his bare hands over her thighs. His right hand immediately went down and he gently stroked the silky fabric that was separating him from her entrance. (Y/n) squeezed her eyes tightly shut, her nails digging into the table beneath her.
“I want to hear you, darlin’. Moan for me Sweetheart.” Bob whispered against her ear, his lips moving to her neck. He placed little kisses everywhere until he stopped at one place where he sucked on her soft skin.
“God-” she breathed out and ran her hand in his hair, messing up his blond locks. Y/N felt Bob move her underwear to the side and he stroked her clit for the first time, causing her to jolt off the table.
“Stop teasing me,” she whined between her quiet moans as she leaned closer to him, head pressed into his shoulder. Bob ran his hand down her back soothingly and smiled against her skin, satisfied with himself. He began to caress her clit more frequently but not enough for her to come.
“Bob please.”
“Alright Doll, alright. I’ve got you.” Bob scooped her up into his arms, cradling her lovingly against his chest. Carrying her through to the bedroom he lay her down on the soft sheets, stroking the loose strands of hair from her face.
“I love you,” he smiled down at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners, deep blue eyes so full of love.
“I love you too,” (y/n) reached out for him, pulling him in for another gentle kiss, lips brushing barley against each other. Bob pressed his forehead against hers, their breath mingling in hot breaths.
“This was the best day of my life,” he admitted, brushing his thumb across her cheek. “My beautiful wife.”
Synopsis: Bob Floyd never expected to fall in love during the war, especially not with a pretty, young nurse during basic training. But love works in funny ways and can their love stand the rest of time, the war and the distance that separates them. Warnings: mentions of graphic themes, war, injury, weapons, sexual images, language, 18+.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Alabama, 1947
“Eugene? Honey, come on we’re going to be late.” (Y/n)’s voice echoed through the house as she hurriedly tried to fit everything into her bag. Her youngest son, Thomas, cradled to her chest as he babbled, grabbing fistfuls of her neatly curled hair. From down the corridor she heard a cacophony of laughter as Bob emerged with Eugene tucked under his arm as he tickled his son.
“There’s my boys. Come on, we've got to go, we've got a drive ahead of us.”
Bob nodded, placing little Eugene to the floor. He scrambled away running to his mother. The boy was the spitting image of his father, blonde hair slicked down, mischievous blue eyes, the same cheeky smile. (Y/n) handed Tommy over to Bob as she picked Eugene up, hurrying the little family out of the door and to the car.
The drive wasn’t too long, only three hours from Louisiana to Alabama but with a small baby and a three year old it wasn’t going to be boring.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pulling up the familiar drive, (Y/n) watched as Bob’s face turned into an immediate grin upon seeing Albert, with a similar smile on his face, appearing on the porch. Bob pulled the car to a halt, jumping out nearly before it had stopped. Albert hurried down the steps throwing his arms around Bob’s shoulder.
“I miss you,” Bob mumbled into Albert’s neck.
“I missed you too.”
Both men pulled away, clapping each other on the back before Bob turned to (Y/n), he stepped forward, taking Tommy from her arms so she could help Eugene out of his seat. When they both looked up Mary was hurrying down the steps, a small bundle nestled in her arms and Bonnie hot on her heels.
“It’s good to see you Mary.” Both women gave each other a small hug and a smile.
“Who’s this little guy?” Albert asked, peeking down at little Tommy who was wriggling in his blankets in Bob’s arms.
“This is Thomas,” Bob said quietly, gazing down at his son in adoration. Albert looked up quickly, a sharp intake of breath could be heard.
“After Jackson?” He asked, his voice slightly squeaky.
“Yeah, after Jackson.” Both men shared a knowing look, a look that could only be shared by two people who had been through absolute hell together. Everyone was quiet for a moment until Eugene started crying that Bonnie wouldn’t share her toys, causing all four parents to hurry the children inside in a desperate attempt to distract them. It worked and soon both children were playing happily while both baby Tommy and Mary and Albert’s son, Ronald, slept peacefully side by side.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The morning quickly moved into the afternoon and then evening. The sun began to dip in the sky, casting a golden glow through the stained glass window in the kitchen.
Both women were occupied with the children so Bob and Albert took a moment's peace, sitting quietly on the porch swing. They sat in silence for a long while, a comfortable silence much like the ones they had shared on many nights through the war. They knew exactly what the other was thinking without even saying it, a silent conversation between their eyes.
Bob let out a deep sigh, running his hand through his blonde locks. They were getting a little long, hanging into his eyes sometimes, much longer than the army would ever have let him have it.
“I think of him, you know…Jackson. I think about him every day, every damn day,” Albert sighed, he inhaled his cigarette smoke deeply.
“He was a good kid.” Bob replied. He could feel his eyes becoming heavy, filling with unshed tears that caused them to glisten in the setting sun. Albert looked over at him, his own tears beginning to trickle down his cheeks.
“We did it, Bob,” Albert grinned tearfully. “We made it home.”
“Yeah…” Bob sniffed loudly, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt. “Yeah we did.”
“We survived for him. We made it back just like we promised. We survived Bob.” Albert sobbed. Despite two years having passed since they had finally returned home to the States, they were never the same. The agony that they both felt at the thought of their fallen comrade, just a boy really. It was an agony that many felt, having created such a bond that could never be broken, having formed such friendships that would last a lifetime. A brotherhood.
Sitting on that porch in Alabama next to his friend Bob knew that he’d done good by his promise to Jackson. He’d made it and he was living his life to the fullest. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as his wife cradled baby Thomas close to her, her lips moving quietly as she sang to him. He loved her more than anything else in this world and he vowed to tell her that every single day for the rest of their lives.
