#warloving

        Buzz watched with clouded eyes as water ran down his arm, mixing with blood and turning pink before finally spilling into the tub. The water was dirty now, but he felt no cleaner. Bezi dragged the sponge down his back and Buzz fixed on the sensation, suddenly hyper-aware of the texture, heat, and weight. A dull, familiar sickness rolled in his stomach.

         Medically discharged from the Air Force and with a psychological evaluation looming in the weeks ahead, Buzz couldn’t see himself back in the military. No general in their right mind would take him back, and he couldn’t blame them. Somehow in just the matter of a few days, he’d burned everything he had to the ground. His career, his relationship with his best friend, and his reputation: gone. Everything with the exception of Lieutenant Tye.

         Like fuse being lit, anger burst through his chest and he twisted. Water sloshed and pain shot through his neck and ribs, but he ignored it and shoved Bezi’s arm away.

         “I can do it,” Buzz snapped. “I can bathe my damn self.”

         Everett came off the other boy swinging and spitting like a tomcat. Blood filled his nose and mouth, but he was seeing red. He’d kill Danny for saying what he did! He’d beat his lights out!

         “Leggo–! Hey, leggo of me!” Everett’s feet lifted off the pavement for a half second as he was dragged back and he flailed, kicking and scrabbling, trying to squirm out of the stranger’s hold. Before he could manage any sort of success, Danny had picked himself up and darted, dribbling blood from his lip as he went.

         “You ever show your face again,” Everett called, “somebody’ll have to scrape ya off the sidewalk! You hear me?!” He growled in frustration. “Mister, I said lemme go, now, c’mon!”

Reluctantly, Rob let go of the boy - and he was a boy. He couldn’t be older than his early teens. “Alright, alright,” he said, a warning tone in his voice, lest he tried to go for him next.

         “Damn, you really did burn up like a fried egg, didn’t you?” Buzz laughed as he helped Bill out of his shirt. All over Bill’s shoulders and arms, the skin was bright, watermelon red. Though not bad enough for blistering (thank god), the skin was peeling and cracked, and Buzz could imagine just how painful it must be to wear a shirt at all.

         Buzz motioned for Bill to sit backwards in one of the chairs and grabbed for the ointment the nurses had prescribed. Mumbling that it was going to be cold, he began rubbing the lotion onto Bill’s shoulders.

         “I can’t believe you passed out up there,” he added, conversationally. “Guess you won’t hit the bottle so hard next time, huh?”

“Can I help you, soldier?” Christoph asked politely, eyeing the handsome man. He was leaning against the cracked facade of a hospital, currently full of injured allied troops and newly freed, French civilians. “You’ve earned our gratitude.”

        “That’s where you’re wrong.” Buzz connected their gaze with a slanted smile. “War solves everything. Don’t they teach you kids anything in school anymore?” An ironic statement coming from a young man who just barely scraped through any education and had been more of a menace to teachers than a prize pupil.

         “Empires were built on battle,” he explained, eyes never leaving hers. “War is progress, power, every country in the world relies on it. Like it or not, war is a necessity, and blood is in high demand these days, honey.”

        “Can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.”

         It had been years since he’d stepped foot on the manor grounds and he wished he could say that he was glad to be back, but really? He could have watched the whole place go up in smoke and be happier than he was now. Still— there was something to be said, at least, that the old man went up in smoke. Call Everett “vile” and “petty” all you wanted, the idea of it made him want to laugh and kick his heels. The only thing that could have made it better was if he’d been the one to off Sir Reginald Hargreeves himself.

         “So who finally snapped and killed the bastard?”

         A smart man might have been intimidated by a man Bezi’s size; he was practically a giant, towering almost a full foot above him, but the difference only seemed to cause Buzz to prickle more.

         Buzz stood straight and tall, chin high, and shoulders tight as if bracing himself to hit or be hit. In fact, Buzz almost wished that this whole thing would come to blows. He’d like nothing more than to knock that stupid, smug look off the lieutenant’s face. He could swear the filthy monster thought he was better than him, but he wasn’t. He was the captain, not Bezi. He could fly circles all around him and then some.

         The pub grew quiet and some of the boys had already begun to leave, sensing the tension sparking between the two officers. Others were more eager to see what might happen and stood back to watch. Embarrassment crept along Buzz’s neck.

         If he had his way, he could kill Lieutenant Tye.

         “How about you stay out of it?” he hissed. “You know, one day you’re going to stick your nose into my business and I’m gonna snap it off your face.”