#wayne sisk

But a quick fuck was incomparable to what existed outside a broads tight embrace. Nothing mattered here; only panting breaths, rough touches, and a blank slate to take without feeling guilt. How could he feel guilty when for as good as he was at taking pleasure, he was just as good at giving it? Joe’s hand kneaded harshly at the soft skin of her thigh beneath him.

He’d take damp skin for this reason over that any day. Joe unhooked his chin from the nurse’s shoulder, a low moan leaving his swollen lips as Janice turned over to face him from where he lay above her, his arms propped up to keep from crushing the woman against her bed. The action separated them, in more ways than one, and Joe smirked at the sight of her flushed cheeks, and the quick, languid rise and fall of the woman’s ample chest.

His hand snaked towards her on instinct, rough fingers grabbing harshly at pebbled skin as the nurse caught her bottom lip between her teeth, back arched and willing. Fuck— he’d missed this. Janice’s painted nails dug harsh lines into his shoulders as he caught his breath, mind irresistibly blank as he sat back on his haunches above her.

She sat up, Joe’s eyes following the bounce of her goose-fleshed tits as she did, a lazy smile stretching her painted lips as he cocked his head. He craved that, eyes instinctively searching for the slightest signs of satisfaction.

“Miss me?” He asked, voice hoarse. She giggled, the trill of her voice echoing in his ears so addictively— an expressive confirmation of his well learned and practiced prowess.

“Of course love, how could I not?” She cooed, “So animalistic, you yanks.”

Joe stilled.

“Pity you stroll back just as I’m leaving.. you’ll ha— hey, darling, what’s wrong?”

He hopped off the bed, rubber discarded in the trash next to the woman’s nightstand. Joe’s fingers dug into his legs as he dragged his boxers up and on. Then his pants. His fingers fumbled with the belt as Janice leapt up to meet him, her front pressed against his back as her no longer soothing voice met his ears. She ran her fingernails against his biceps. He shuddered.

“You don’t want to stay?” She asked, and Joe blinked, hands succeeding in clasping his buckle.

“Can’t.” He spoke, voice rough as he turned around to face her. Her brows furrowed, as though she could read him like a damn book. Unlikely. Yet she looked at him as though his expression spoke louder than his answer. He didn’t like that, not one bit.

He surged forward, capturing the redhead’s lips with his own as his hands met her blushed cheeks, a slow messy kiss that sent her stumbling backwards, thighs against the mussed sheets of the bed. She smiled when he pulled away, teeth on display and the skin between her eyebrows suddenly smooth and non-prying.

Much fuckin’ better.

His undershirt and jacket were hastily thrown on after that, her giggles and the sound of her lying back onto the creaky bed a muffled background noise as Joe slipped his boots back on. His skin felt warm where she’d kissed him, the ghostly sting of her sharp nails against his back a comforting feeling as he ran a hand through his messy hair, pushing the too long strands out of his eyes.

He had to get out of there.

So animalistic, you yanks.

His boots pounded against the gravel outside the small duplex that housed the nurses corps stationed in the village. Joe could be called rough, sure— he wouldn’t deny it. There was nothing better in his mind than a quick rough fuck where both parties got what they wanted and an empty, dazed mind for the briefest of seconds. But her words, the coo of her voice as she’d said it with fucked out eyes, it made him sick to his stomach.

Joe cleared his throat as he walked past the quaint homes that seemed to litter the small village, fingers reaching into his front pocket for the small paper box he knew all too well. That was another favoured pursuit. He stuck the Lucky Strike between his swollen lips and lit it, exhaling in an effort to calm the fuck down. Animal. Animal. Animal. God fucking dammit, couldn’t she have said it before he fucked her? At least then he could have shut her up with a kiss and lost himself in her tits.

Animal. He scoffed, taking another drag of the cigarette gripped between his fingers. Being back in England felt fucking weird. Too still. The fact that he’d seen the adrenaline induced mayhem of Normandy as somewhat relaxing made his brows furrow, the cigarette abandoned as he flicked it into the grass. Animal. Aggression had always come easy to him, sure. It had to at first. But he’d come to depend on it like a crutch, in more ways than fucking one, and the realization of that was not what he needed shoved in his fuckin’ face by painted lips and a soft, sickly sweet voice.

He shot a weak wave to Pat as he passed the man’s billet, Christenson sitting on the porch with his own cigarette dangling from his lips.

Animal. Joe wished he hadn’t tossed the cigarette before he’d finished it. But he didn’t reach for another— the hazy smoke still lingered in his throat, the cling of tobacco still on his teeth. He didn’t know what to do with his hands as he continued walking towards Greenwell Lane.

He wasn’t a fucking animal. He knew so, shit, even Verbeken had said so. Sort of. His jaw clenched as her face entered his mind. They were good now, his biggest sin— lately, rectified. Joe didn’t pray much, but that had to be some sort of good karma, right? He wished he could a’ seen her face when she said it. It’d left her lips all quiet like, his back against the dirt wall of the trench while her boots swung above him. Maybe if he could’ve watched her say it he’d be able to know if she meant it.

Joe ran a hand through his hair, the small sign for the Hughes’ street suddenly in view. He shouldn’t be thinkin about her after leaving Janice’s. Even if it made sense— Janice pissed him off but Eleanor’d refuted her words. Kind of. Not really— that actually made no fuckin sense since Verbeken had said it first. And that wasn’t right, was it? You can’t disprove somethin that hasn’t happened yet. Whatever. It made him feel a bit better. He didn’t even know why he felt all shitty, now that he really thought about it. Janice’d looked at him with her big blue eyes and said those words and he’d frozen like a sissy who didn’t have a naked broad with gorgeous tits underneath him.

Verbeken came to his mind again and he sighed, fists clenched as his boots crunched against the gravel underneath them. Chuck and Tab— had to be. They’d gone and shot the shit and ruined his fucking head and the one thing he liked doing. That was why he kept thinkin about her, and tryin’ to see her face and her words and—

“Lieb! Nice to see ya buddy.”

He paused, looking up from the ground with pursed lips as Joe Toye sauntered towards him. Well that couldn’t be right— the Irishman got himself evacuated for a bad scrape. Then again, how long did somethin like that take to fix up?

“How’s the arm and leg?” Joe asked, stuffing his hands in his pocket. Toye rolled his eyes, a huff of air leaving his rounded lips as he kicked at the gravel. They stood in front of the two homes. Joe figured he was probably there for Eleanor.

“Fuckin bullshit, can you believe they made me leave for that?” The taller man scoffed, and Joe shrugged. “Hey, ya only missed a week, nothin’ too crazy except a German patrol that got too close to the line.”

“You’d think it would a’ been the grenades that got me, not a damn busted rope.”

“Beggars can’t be choosers Toye.” Joe teased, “Or so my ma says.”

“Yeah yeah.” Toye chuckled, his lips pulled. Joe didn’t say anything, his eyes flitting towards his billet.

“She pissed at me?” Toye continued, head cocked towards the neighbouring house. Joe rolled his eyes, “When ain’t she pissed?”

He continued, “Shit, I dunno— she was, but I haven’t seen her since we got here three days ago.”

Toye nodded. “Alright, good luck Lieb, you got your own surprise.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” He snorted, and Toye shook his head, “Go see for yourself, Lip and I had a stowaway.”

The other Joe didn’t give him a chance to answer, a smirk on his face as he headed for the gate that began the path to Verbeken’s billet. He whistled as he went, and Joe shook his head before doing the same to his own assigned housing, an annoyed, but curious, itch at the back of his mind.

He opened the front door, unlocked as it always was. He hadn’t been lying, he really hadn’t seen Verbeken since they’d boarded that crowded LST back to England. Not for a lack of trying, sort of. Joe wasn’t some clingy bastard— not that there was shit to get clingy over, but he’d been tryna help her out since Carentan.

Not that she needed help. Hell no, her and Roe were freaks a’ nature Joe would never understand. But little shit here and there to show her that he really could be a nice guy. It was for him more than anything, probably. He was shit with his words anyways, but spare cigarettes and K rations seemed to speak clearer. Joe was good at scrounging shit up. Always had been, being the oldest of six. Huh, he wondered if Mary’d had her baby yet. He hadn’t heard from his oldest sister since she’d written him to tell her she was knocked up again and that had been when, February? He buried the thought.

Joe shrugged his boots off in the Hughes’ front room, the lack of such an action a frequent complaint of the woman of the house since he and Tab had first been posted there nearly a year earlier. Fuck— he still couldn’t believe Tab had gone and gotten himself stabbed over a poncho. An ugly poncho. A Kraut poncho. Fuckin idiot, Tab could really be one sometimes. Yet somehow the man was so damn tactical and soldier-like in the important moments it was no wonder he was Winters’ (unspoken, the stoic man would never) unofficial favourite among the NCO’s. Joe shook his head as he walked further in the house, though he stilled when he could a’ sworn he heard the man in question.

Upstairs. There were definitely people upstairs. But the only rooms on the measly second floor of the cottage were his and a small bathroom. Joe’s brows furrowed as he lumbered up the stairs, his suspicions that the voices were centred in his bedroom only confirmed more with each wooden step his socked foot pattered against.

“It isn’t a trouble to me sir, I’m home and do little else.” Mrs. Hughes said, her words slightly muffled by the closed door. Joe walked towards it, their commanding officer’s voice sounding as he did,

“I appreciate that mam, but Sergeant Talbert will need medical attention tha—“

“— I got Birdie next door sir!”

“Mr. Talbert! You are certainly not helping your case young man.” Mrs. Hughes chastised, and Joe narrowed his eyes as his hand twisted the brass doorknob, convinced he had heard incorrectly.

He opened it, and his eyes widened as he took in the scene in front of him. Mrs. Hughes with her hands on her hips, a scowl on her face. Captain Winters didn’t reveal much from his expression, though Joe could tell from the twitch in the uptight man’s shoulders that he was fuckin’ annoyed. What really stunned Joe and convinced him he was makin things up was Tab in between them, lying on his bed with a ball of gauze held to his stomach. Joe blinked.

“The fuck are you doing here?” He asked, mouth open.

“Mr. Liebgott!” Mrs. Hughes gasped, and her reaction made him remember who was in the room. For fuck sake. Joe stood at attention, cheeks reddened as he looked sheepishly towards his commanding officer, “My bad, sir.”

“At ease Joe.” Winters sighed, and Joe relaxed. Which was pretty hard to fucking so when his buddy who last he checked— got stabbed, was sittin in their shared room and not in a hospital.

Jesus Christ.

•••

Eleanor smiled softly, tugging George by the sleeve as they exited the projector tent where they’d gone to watch Stagecoach. Watch was generous, as Nora didn’t think Luz was capable of sitting still long enough to simply watch a film without causing a ruckus.

They hadn’t been kicked out, persay, though after the chocolate bar he’d been trying to smear against her cheek had flown from his grasp and knocked Martin in the back of the head she figured they’d better make themselves scarce.

She’d seen the Western before anyways, though she was looking forward to watching it again. Even after it’d taken considerable convincing on George’s end to even get her to go. She suspected he didn’t give a rats ass about the flick, and was merely trying to draw her out of the house.

“Y’know Birdie,” He began, and Eleanor preemptively rolled her eyes, “I betcha I could give Ringo a run for his money.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah really.” He huffed, a smirk on his face as they strolled through the village.

“What would you do if tomorrow you woke up an outlaw from a Western?” Eleanor asked, a grin tugging at her lips as George looped his arm with hers. “Hmm, well first I’d give ya all my shit I couldn’t take on the road with me— cut loose a bit, yknow?”

“Me? I’m honoured.” She teased.

“I know you’d guard it for me, I got a lot a’ valuables.”

“Hmm, you never know, I might sell it all and go on the run myself.”

George paused his steps with a huff, the action bringing Eleanor to an abrupt stop due to their linked arms.

“First of all, how dare you,” He shook his head, “But you can’t— we got those matching tattoos… I get caught I’m ratting your ass out as my accomplice.”

“How does a tattoo make me your accomplice!” Eleanor sputtered, “I got it under duress, than—“

“—Eh eh eh!” George tutted, cutting her off with a finger against her lips, “I won that bet fair and square.”

Eleanor sighed, and George continued.

“Those eagles look pretty scary, they’ll think we’re part of some outlaw gang.”

“Outlaws are typically solitary people, hence the outlaw thing.” She quipped, and George groaned, “You’re really pokin’ holes in my plan here.”

“It isn’t that good of a plan if so many holes can be poked.” She teased.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty and ya saved my life.” He wagged his finger, and Eleanor rolled her eyes.

“And you put up with my shit even when I’m an ass.” He continued, his words sounding a bit more strained. They resumed walking in the direction of Eleanor’s billet, an awkward silence enveloping them for a few moments while Nora thought over her words.

“I thi—“

“—I was such a prick Birdie, an absolute yuck, and I feel like you ain’t really been listenin’ when I’ve been trying to say so an—“

“— George.” She cut him off, “Just, breathe for a sec, Jesus.”

George had a point. Eleanor had dropped it without actually listening to what any of them had to say. They had been in Normandy, on the line. The last thing on Eleanor’s mind amid artillery fire and wounds to treat was her friends insulting her. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t been stewing over it. She’d stewed a whole lot, whenever her body found time to rest and her mind decided to prevent her from doing so. It still tugged at her. Not only the conversation George had started that day in Carentan, but the little things her addled, insecure mind had picked up on over the month they spent in occupied France.

Nora knew it was stupid. All of it was. At the end of the day others opinions mattered little in the grand scheme of her purpose in the company. Other’s opinions seldom bothered her when she’d joined, fresh out of Oglethorpe and expecting to be harassed, belittled, doubted. She didn’t know when exactly she’d lost her edge, but Eleanor suspected that it had happened because she’d somehow actually befriended a lot of the men she’d steeled herself to ignore and distrust. She’d been hiding out at Flo’s since they returned, wasting the few spare days they’d been allotted before daily training resumed. She was damned if she did and damned if she didn’t, she supposed.

“I’m breathin’ perfectly fine,” George huffed, “I just want you to actually be listening when you nod your head at me.”

“Well alright.” Nora spoke, and George scratched his mouth, “So we’ve covered that I’m an idiot.”

“Yes, you said that.” She confirmed, kicking a stray pebble away from their path as they walked.

“But I really am sorry, especially after all y’did for us out there, I don’t want you thinkin that I think you can only do certain things cause of whatever and whichever and I thought it was a joke and we were laughing and then—“

“— I promise I’m not mad at you.” Eleanor cut him off again, though this time George looked almost thankful. She wasn’t lying, she hadn’t been mad. moreso annoyed, and incredibly defensive, though a large part of that had already been itching up her throat before George and the others had opened their mouths, “I was just already feeling weird about my place here and I think it made me snap like that.”

George’s eyes widened at her words, though she kept speaking before he could open his mouth,

“And I kinda wanna apologize to Frank, yknow? He was all excited about his baby and I ruined it.”

“Honey, the second you left he gave us all a dressing down about what pricks we were, trust me, he ain’t mad at you.” George shook his head, “You should a’ seen him, his bushy little brows all screwed together— and I love the guy, but he looks so harmless, Birdie, if he could a’ spit fire he would’ve.”

“Now that I think about it, don’t he kinda remind you of a squirrel? They’re cute, right, but those things can attack, jheez.” He whistled, a far away look in his eyes as though he had first hand experience with being attacked by one. Eleanor didn’t ask him to elaborate.

“But we’re good?” He asked, and Eleanor nodded, slinging her arm around the slightly taller man’s shoulder, “Don’t worry about little old me George, you got an outlaw plan to rethink.”

They’d split up after passing George’s street, and Eleanor walked up the path to Flo’s. She had to write Liz back, though she wasn’t planning to leave the house again that day so perhaps the letter could wait. In all honestly she was avoiding it, Liz’s had obviously been written before their jump, since her sister’s words carried no mention of it. Or, what happened afterwards. Nora wasn’t sure if Joey’s injury even warranted a telegram home, but she felt guilty writing Liz like all was well when Joey had hid he was hurt and gotten himself evacuated to the hospital in the process.

She sighed, pushing open the door and barrelling inside. “Flo?” She called out, but the woman didn’t answer. Huh. Then again, they’d both been cooped up in the small cottage for much of the weekend.

“She’s out back gardening.”

Eleanor flinched, her hand flying to her heart at the voice’s intrusion. She spun around, eyes wide as she spotted Joey on the couch, fiddling with his knife. He had a lazy, sheepish grin on his face, and before she could stop herself Eleanor rushed at him. He’d barely tucked away his knife when Nora wrapped her arms around him, effectively pinning him to the couch. He reciprocated the bone-crushing hug in earnest.

“What the—“ She punched his shoulder, not hard enough to hurt but harsh enough to make a point, “— Hell is the matter with you!”

“Getoffme!” He groaned, shoving her away and standing up from the sofa, “Jesus, I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Eleanor stilled, her pulse ringing in her ears as she looked at him. Studied him really, eyes scanning the man’s body for any other injuries being hidden right under her nose. “I’m happy alright, but I still think you’re an ass for hiding it.”

“I didn’t hide shit,” He scoffed, “It was a scrape.”

Eleanor pinched the bridge of her nose to quell the tension headache she felt forming as Joey spoke, “A scrape? The rope practically skinned you, flayed, whichever you prefer.”

“I’m fine ain’t I? Now I know.”

“Yeah,” She nodded, “Now you know.”

Eleanor itched to tell him he already knew, cause they’d only been taught since basic that any flesh wound left to fester in a dirty environment without being cleaned would cause a goddamn infection.

“It wasn’t even gangrene.” He shrugged

“Yet.” Nora scoffed, and she moved back out to the front room to take off her boots, “If you would’ve told me I’d have bandaged it at least.”

A small part of her really thought he should have known better. The thought was a brief one, a phantom pain erupting from the faded discolouration near her ribs. He knew. Eleanor ran a hand through her hair before letting her fingers trail down to her side, rubbing at the spot through her cotton T shirt as though to will the reminder away. Granted, she hadn’t gotten gangrene, but the angry red gash near her ribs had taken an excruciatingly long time to heal.

“Well next time I won’t play the martyr,” He reasoned, “I’ll come to ya for all my bumps and scrapes.”

Eleanor sighed, “I’m just saying, infections aren’t a laughing matter, we both know that.”

It’d been what exposed her, after all. Sore head from when she hit the tiled ground? No problem, she’d iced it with snow from the yard. The bruising she felt with each deep inhale would have ceased after a few days, had she noticed the glass that had cut through her dress — the source of the argument, if she could call it that, when she’d hit the mirrored cabinet and it imbedded itself in her skin. She’d never forget how it ached, her skin feverish and her limbs heavy once she’d removed the bandage a week later and noticed the red and purple streaked skin.

“Hey..” Joey said softly, and Eleanor bristled. She hadn’t meant to remind him of that day. Not now. It was bad enough she’d been thinking it. She didn’t want to hear it voiced aloud.

“Because I’m a medic,“ She cut in, and Eleanor hoped her blue eyes conveyed the desperation with which she spoke to drop it where it was— on his tongue and unreleased, “Just come to me next time, or Roe.”

“I will.” He nodded, eyes flicking towards the ground, “Hey, you wanna go to the pub tonight? I wanna scope out these replacements.”

Eleanor shook her head, the angry bartender flashing to her mind. “Uh-uh, no thank you.”

“Cmon, why not?” He grinned, and Eleanor looked away, embarrassed. “I don’t think the bartender likes me all that much.”

“Who, the short n’ round one?”

She nodded, and Joey snorted. “I’m serious, I got kicked out for fighting, he’ll probably throw me out the second he sees me.”

“Fighting?” He blinked, “Wait a minute, did you and Lieb get into an actual scrap, is that what that whole thing was about?”

“What? No! He never.. he’d never put his hands on me.” Eleanor stuttered. Liebgott was many things— scrappy being one. Which, in hindsight was definitely why Joey’s mind had gone there, but he’d never, and would never. That much she knew. “He dragged me away from the fight actually, then we fought— but not fucking physically, Jesus.”

“For fucks sake,” He exhaled, “I thought I was gonna have to go drag him away from Tab n’ bash his head in.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes, and Joey continued, “Then again, you’re both scrawny fucks, I’m sure you could take him if it really came down to it, never know with you two.” He shook his head slowly, a teasing grin on his face.

“Yeah don’t worry, I’m sure I..” Eleanor cut herself off, Joey’s words registering in her brain, “Wait a minute, did you just say Tab? He’s here?”

“Shit, I probably should’ve led with that, huh?” Joe stifled a grin, wiping his hand over his face, “So Lip and I get discharged with Boyle, right? And we’re leaving when Tab shows up, claiming they let him go too— we were already past Swindon when Lip noticed he was clutching’ his stomach.”

Eleanor nodded, encouraging Toye to continue.

“So turns out, Tab not only went AWOL, but he did so cause he was screwin’ one of the nurses and tore a stitch, no big deal, right? Except the nurse had a fella, and he was there, so Tab ripped a few other stitches gettin’ away from him.”

“He’s walking around with torn sitches?” Eleanor bristled, her fingers itching. Where the hell was her med pack? She instinctively patted against her belt, though she hadn’t kept it fastened to her since they’d left the troop ship.

“Well I doubt the kid’s doin’ much walking,” Joe snorted, though his face sobered when he noticed Eleanor wasn’t laughing, “Huh, probably a bad time to tell ya all the nurses started calling him Bunny, yeah?”

Eleanor groaned.

“Cause he fucks like a—“

“— Trust me, I understood.” She rolled her eyes, and disappeared up the stairs to find her side pouch. Jesus Christ.

Eleanor stormed out of the house, not bothering to shut the gate behind her as she rounded onto the one next door, hopping onto the small porch and knocking furiously. The door opened, and Liebgott’s face morphed from agitated to relieved.

“Shit, I was just about to come grab you.”

“Where is he?” Nora asked, brushing past Joe and into the house. Liebgott snorted, “He ain’t dying, he just fucked his stitches loose.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Cmon, he’s upstairs.” Joe cackled, a hand on Eleanor’s shoulder as he pushed her towards the staircase. She could feel him behind her, inching her tense frame forwards. She assumed it was meant to be comforting, though the blasé attitudes of both men only agitated her further. But, Liebgott was rubbing a tense knot out of her shoulder as he followed her that certainly helped.

“Sir.” Eleanor nodded, offering her commanding officer a salute as Winter’s appeared in the doorway to the men’s shared bedroom. Gosh, she hadn’t been there since the night Flo met Speirs.. and to think he was out procuring a ring for her at that very moment.

“Eleanor, I take it Liebgott told you what happened?” He asked, an unamused look on his face. Yet Eleanor swore she saw his eyes twinkle with mirth. “Toye did sir.” She sighed, and Winters beckoned her in, Joe still hot on her heels.

“Look who came to fix ya up Tab.” Joe whistled, “Better be on your best behaviour.”

“This is not a laughing matter,” Mrs. Hughes sighed, and Eleanor noticed the frazzled woman sitting against Liebgott’s bed, “Hello Miss Verbeken.”

“Hi Mrs. Hughes.” She smiled softly, the grin leaving her face as she approached Floyd’s bed, “Are you kidding me Tab, really?”

“Birdie, have I ever told you how great I think ya are?” Tab tried to sweeten her annoyance, and Eleanor rolled her eyes as Joe barked out a laugh.

“Alright, let me see.” She tutted, snatching the bloodied bandage out of Floyd’s hand and lifting his stained shirt, “Okay, it’s actually not that bad.”

Nora swung her pack from her side so that it sat under her belt buckle, and she poured a small vial of iodine onto the torn wound as Tab hissed.

“I was discussing Sergeant Talbert’s circumstances with Mrs. Hughes,” Captain Winters spoke as Eleanor yanked the last half dissolved stitch from Floyd’s abdomen, a packet of sulfa quickly replacing it, “And we agreed that at this point it’s probably best Talbert finishes his recovery here, under supervision.”

“That’s probably a good idea sir.” Eleanor bit out, and she could see Joe cover his face in an attempt not to laugh out of the corner of her eye. She willed her eyes back to Floyd, lest she laugh as well, pursing her lips into a thin line.

“I suggested that since you’re next door, perhaps you could be the one to keep an eye on him, rather than, say, one of the nurses in the village.”

Floyd swore as Eleanor’s needle pierced his skin, and Liebgott snickered, “Hey, Verbeken ain’t that bad of company Tab, cmon.”

“Thank you Liebgott.” Eleanor hummed, ears pricked at the semi-compliment, though she grinned as she said it, falling into step with his teasing of the writhing man beneath her.

“Lieb, I swear to God.” Tab huffed, Eleanor’s fingers yanking on the surgical thread as she held her hand against his stomach to steady him, “Don’t get smart about nurses.”

“Hm, that’s a fair point.” Eleanor mused, looking up to smirk at Liebgott, but the man visibly soured. Eleanor blinked, her teasing grin dropping from her face at his sudden morose expression. It tugged at her, and she turned back to Tab, her ears burning.

“Only one more Tab.” She said softly, before tying off the knot and grabbing her scissors from her lap. “I’m gonna wrap it, so try not to fiddle with it too much, I’ll come change it tomorrow.”

The man huffed in response, though thanked Eleanor softly once she’d finished bandaging his freshly-stitched wound. The whole thing was ridiculous, in Nora’s opinion. He’d gone and extended his healing time.

Winters went downstairs with Mrs. Hughes on the promise of a cup of tea, and Joe stood up, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. Eleanor’s eyes flitted to the pale skin of his toned abdomen, his T shirt lifted by the action. She looked away, packing her spare supplies back into her side bag. She hadn’t seen much of him the last few days, though that was to be expected staying within the four walls of Flo’s cottage, with whiskeys over ice and the radiogram for company.

“Cmon Verbeken, I’ll walk ya back.” He tutted, and Eleanor scowled, “The two steps to my own gate?”

Joe shrugged, “Yeah, why not.”

“You guys are leavin’ me?” Tab asked, and Eleanor pouted, “I’ll be back tomorrow to check your stitches, by the end of the week you’ll be sick of me.”

Eleanor followed Joe out of the room and down the stairs, the muffled sound of Winters and Mrs. Hughes conversing in the kitchen faintly audible. Joe raised his eyebrows at her, and Eleanor rolled her eyes, pushing him forward softly and towards the door.

“I can’t believe him.” Eleanor huffed as the early evening air hit her face, and Liebgott snorted, brushing past her, “I can.”

She sighed, abandoning the porch for the path as Joe sauntered ahead of her. It felt strange, but nice, to be friendly with him again. Though, there was still a sense of apprehension that hung between them Eleanor’d first noticed a week after they left Carentan. It was like they were dancing around each other, testing limits while simultaneously shrinking away. Like now, where Liebgott offered to walk her home— next door, yet walked several steps ahead of her.

“Are you gonna slow down?” Eleanor huffed, and Joe’s strides paused, his shoulders rounded as he turned back to look at her. “I got long legs Verbeken, keep up.”

Eleanor shook her head, but didn’t make any effort to speed up her steps. Their destination was literally right next to their starting point, so he didn’t win by much. If it was a game. Nora suspected that to him it might be.

“Congratulations, you beat me to my own porch.” Eleanor drawled, approaching his tall figure, standing aimlessly at the foot of the path. The ghost of a smile etched his lips, one side upturned, until it was quickly placated with a cigarette. Joe lit it, exhaling without removing the stick from his lips. “Want one?” He mumbled, the cigarette dangling as his hands were shoved back into his pockets.

Eleanor nodded, and he repeated the process for her, both of them shuffling to perch on the edge of Florence’s small porch. Eleanor took a long drag, savouring the smoke as it coated her throat.

“You alright?” She asked, twisting the lit cigarette between her pointer and index fingers. He looked deep in thought. She could see the clench of his jaw as he stared down at the gravel.

“What?” He asked, eyes on her own, as though she’d knocked him out of whatever thought had his face screwed all tight.

“I asked if you were alright,” Eleanor paused, “Seems like you’re thinking real hard about something.”

“Nah, I ain’t thinkin’ about shit.” He scoffed, and if it were possible for his brows to furrow further than Nora supposed they did. His words left his mouth with a bite that made her falter. The hell was he snapping at her for?

“Well okay then.” She quipped back, bringing the cigarette back to her lips to quell whatever irritated words dared to spill out. Eleanor didn’t want to fight. Not with him, not now. She was too tired to have to match his barbs, but her dismissal wasn’t passive. She saw his lips screw together before she looked away, irritated. They sat in silence for a few moments, their Lucky Strikes dwindling.

“I think it’s gonna rain.” Liebgott said, cocking his head up to look at the sky, and the clouds that seemed to be moving in ever so slowly.

Eleanor followed his actions, looking up through squinted eyes before letting her head fall back down to face him. He hadn’t moved, chin up towards the clouds and his Adams-apple bobbing slightly with each crane of his neck.

“Is that a good or bad thing?” She asked, ashing the end of the cigarette between her feet. Joe tutted.

“Bad, obviously, who likes the rain?”

Eleanor shrugged, “I dunno, I don’t mind it.”

Joe hummed, tapping his hands against his knees as he shifted in his seat, “This is a real interesting conversation Verbeken; rain, good or bad.”

Nora scoffed, taking another hit of her dwindling cigarette, “You’re the one who brought it up.”

“Yeah, but, the way conversations normally work is the other person keeps it goin’.” He teased, and Eleanor rolled her eyes. “I started talkin about the weather, so now you gotta come up with somethin else, it’s basic math.”

Eleanor questioned his calculations, though she didn’t voice it, brows raising as she turned to look away from him. One moment he was snapping at her, and the next he seemed to demand her attention. “Alright, have you met any of the replacements yet?”

“Nah, I haven’t,” He paused, “But it doesn’t have to be about this— yknow, here.” He raised his hands for emphasis.

Eleanor sighed, flicking the end of her cigarette onto the path and resting her head in her hand, elbow supported against her bent knee. “This is pretty much all there is at the moment.”

“Well I ain’t talkin about current affairs,” He huffed, “But hey, see any good movies lately? What’s your favourite colour? When’d you realize Santa Claus wasn’t real? Shit like that. Now that last one, I knew from the jump, personally, yknow, not celebrating Christmas n’ all.” He clicked his teeth before finishing his cigarette, tossing it to join Eleanor’s on the gravel.

“Same as you, didn’t celebrate Christmas.” Eleanor hummed. In all honesty Nora had depressingly believed in Santa a lot longer than she should have for a girl who never received gifts from the round man in his customary red and white garb. She wouldn’t divulge that, however, as the last thing a dying conversation needed was “Hey, I used to write him letters asking why he never visited me or wrote back, why my pa was so angry and why my mum was dead. By the way, if you decide to start answering, can I get one of those pretty rag dolls all the other girls at school have?”

For what it was worth, it seemed Liebgott got the memo, as despite the briefest frown that etched his face he didn’t push for her to elaborate further, once again tapping his hands against his knees in an awkward rhythm.

“But I think blue is my favourite colour.” She offered, “And I watched half of Stagecoach with Luz today.”

“Why only half?” He snorted, and Nora smirked, “What do you think? George can’t sit still for the life of him.”

“Ah I get it though, feels stuffy sittin’ in that tent.” Joe shook his head, “That’s why I don’t go.”

“Hey, that’s not true.” Eleanor spoke, and Joe stiffened. She didn’t know why she’d said that. It was true, he had been to the makeshift cinema. With her and Tab. The day they’d gotten into an explosive argument at the pub.. speaking of which,

“You comin out for drinks tonight? Joe asked, and Eleanor pursed her lips. He’d pointedly ignored her observation about the cinema, probably for the best. Though his change in conversation wasn’t much better.

“Not likely, I don’t feel like getting thrown out.” She exhaled. Joe scoffed. “Cmon, you ain’t gonna be thrown out, I was there the night we got in and he clapped me on the back.”

She shook her head, wiping her brow with the back of her hand, “I’m the only woman not in civilian or nurses clothing Liebgott.”

“I think you’re paranoid.” He teased, knees still bouncing. Eleanor wondered how his leg hadn’t cramped yet, his boot making small pattering noises against the gravel path.

“I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

“For a pint?” He whistled, “I’d be takin my chances.”

“You do that.” Eleanor said softly, a huff leaving her lips as she pushed herself back to her feet. She cocked her head to look down at him, “Thanks for walking me back, don’t know how I would’ve gotten home by myself.”

He snorted, dimples on display as his lips tugged into a smirk. “All in a day’s work.”

Liebgott stood, dusting off his pants as he did, and Eleanor made for the door, her hand clasped around the brass knob.

“Have fun at the pub.” She called back, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

“Always do, see ya Verbeken.” He said, turning back to look at her, before leaving down the path.

•••

Eleanor slept in the next day, much to her annoyance. Her PT kit had been hastily thrown on, breakfast abandoned as she ran her fingers through her short hair (in need of a trim, though) in a feeble attempt to cut corners as she raced out of the house and towards the field where Welsh was running calisthenics. Eleanor thought it’d burn, her muscles no longer used to the vigorous stretch after almost two months away from said routine, though she found herself enjoying the brutal pace the Lieutenant coached them through. Normandy had been messy, and unorganized, though the physical aspect was still as heavy— heavier if anything, than the meticulous training the company was put through off the line.

Eleanor breathed through her nose as she supported herself on her elbows and toes, her waist squeezed tight and teeth clenched as Welsh called out the seconds as they ticked by on his watch.

“And that’s time!” He barked, a chorus of groans sounding across the field being quickly followed by the sounds of bodies hitting the grass. Eleanor fell more elegantly, not burdened by the heavy drinking it seemed many of them had partaken in to celebrate their last free night— if their sallow faces and heavy complaints were any indication.

“Alright, it’s nearly 900, I want you changed and in the weapons range by half past.” Welsh spoke.

Eleanor lifted herself up to rest on her elbows, exhaling through rounded lips to blow her overgrown bangs away from her eyes. A large number of the men that surrounded her were strangers, and the realization had settled deep in her chest like an anchor once she’d first noticed it. Hoobler was next to her, Shifty to his left, and Mal was on her right. She’d shuffled in amidst familiar faces.. but the sight of just how many replacements dotted Easy Company after their month in combat was a glaring reminder of the brutality they’d jumped in to. It wasn’t their fault, not at all, but each new face left a sour taste in Eleanor’s mouth when she remembered a man, boy, more likely, from Toccoa whose shoes they’d been sent to fill.

“You should’ve came last night,” Hoobler laughed beside her, “Buck n’ Luz wiped the floor with half the new guys in darts.”

“Did they now?” She hummed, turning to face him. Her elbows dug into the grass harshly, the morning dew clinging to her skin and no doubt leaving it stained. “Not exactly a warm welcome now is it?”

Hoobler snorted as he sat up, Malarkey copying his movements before clearing his throat, “They had it coming’, don’t tell me you’ve pulled a Shift n’ don’t gamble all of the sudden.”

“Hey..” Shifty trailed off, and Eleanor hid her grin in her palm as she scooted up onto her knees.

“I’m not opposed to it,” She huffed, “But I’ve seen Compton’s wrong hand con enough times to stop falling for it.”

“You’re a smart woman Verbeken.” Hoobler saluted as she rolled her eyes.

“Hey Birdie, how’s Tab doin?” Shifty asked, and Eleanor hummed.

“I gotta run back and check his bandages before I head to the aid station, but as good as he can be for an idiot who broke himself outta the hospital and tore his stitches.” She shook her head, shifting against her knees in the grass. She may as well locate Liebgott, if he hadn’t already left without her.

“Skip bet me a year ago some shmuck would end up outta commission gettin’ lucky,” Malarkey whistled, “But I didn’t bet it’d be Tab, and I sure as hell didn’t think a stab wound’d be involved, now I’m out a few bucks.”

“Well, the nurse didn’t stab him.” Shifty pointed out, and Eleanor chuckled,

“Mal, who’d you bet?”

“Are you kidding me? Sisk screwed his girlfriend on live train tracks in Toccoa, I figured it’d be him.”

Eleanor snorted, yeah fair point. She wondered if Skinny was even still seeing that girl from Georgia. Hoobler’s outstretched hand in front of her dragged her from those thoughts as she let him hoist her up from the grass.

“Lieb’s over there,” He noted, nodding past her. Eleanor bristled, but Hoobler only looked at her with furrowed brows, “Aren’t you heading back to his?”

“Oh,” She said blankly, “Yeah, thanks Hoob.”

She walked off the field they’d co-opted for calisthenics, eyes trained on the head of messy hair she knew belonged to the Californian. His back was to her’s, his white cotton shirt snug against his back as he chatted with Skinny. She was surprised no one had made any real effort to head back into town, since Welsh had only given them just over half an hour to report to the weapons range that’d been set up on its other side.

Not that that included her. Though she did have to attend a lecture with Roe after their short shift about the more intricate aspects of field treating. It felt a little silly, after having actually done it. But she understood the need, it wouldn’t do them any good to get too comfortable.

“Did he eat this morning?” She asked as she came within hearing distance of the pair. Eleanor could see the way Liebgott’s muscles tensed as she snuck up on them, Skinny’s eyes lighting up as Joe bristled, turning towards her, “Jesus Christ Verbeken.”

“Sorry.” She mumbled, scooting past him as Sisk nudged her shoulder, “Haven’t seen ya in a few days, you too good to party with us all the sudden?”

“Forgive me if I wanted to relax.” She teased, and Skinny rolled his eyes as Joe cleared his throat, “I dunno, probably.”

“Who’s this, Bunny?” Skinny asked, his lips tugged back into a smirk.

Eleanor’s nose scrunched in disgust at the use of the nickname Floyd had apparently acquired from the nursing corps, “The one and only, apparently.”

“What do they call you Lieb?” Skinny egged, and Joe bristled, “Shut up, that’s what.”

“Are we going or what?” Eleanor cut in, hands on her hips. They only had so much time and Greenwell Lane was an annoyingly just too long walk to the aid station. She had to shower, the damp residue of the grass clinging to her skin.

“Yeah, cmon Verbeken.” He answered, his hand on her shoulder as they left Skinny standing there. Eleanor waved at him as they went, though the man’s smirk was centred on Liebgott,

“Well it definitely ain’t Mr. Merry and Bright!” He called out, “Maybe Fat head, or hornet— those are the pissy ones aren’t they?”

“Go shower Sisk, I can smell ya from here for fucks sake.” Liebgott called back, and Eleanor rolled her eyes as the field gave way to the gravel road.

As they walked back into the center of town the few men who’d left the field the second they’d been released became visible, along with many locals who dotted the small sidewalks and blocked their path.

“What the hell?” Eleanor mumbled to no one in particular, though she could feel Joe turn to eye her nonetheless. She spotted Chuck’s tall frame immediately, and Nora followed Liebgott as he walked ahead of her and tapped the man’s shoulder.

Closer to the road, Eleanor could finally see what everyone had gathered for, the British nursing unit was walking down the street in their dress wear, their belongings behind them and the faintest sound of drummers in the distance.

“They’re leaving?” She asked, and Grant nodded, “Moving further south, where the infantry division got moved.”

Eleanor shuffled closer, her shoulder’s brushing against Grant’s as she craned her neck to watch the procession. She heard Chuck scoff beside her, and she turned to watch as Joe stopped dead in his tracks at the chastisement. He’d been trying to leave.

“What?” He asked.

Chuck tutted, “Hey, they came out to watch us leave, at least show them the same respect.”

“Chuck’s got a point you know.” She affirmed, and Liebgott huffed before turning back towards them, “Aren’t you gonna check Tab’s stomach?”

“It won’t take too long.” She shrugged, turning back towards the parade.

She recognized one of them, past the vague familiarity she regarded the other British women with after spending months billeted in the same village as them. She’s very pretty, with bright eyes and auburn hair waved in much the same way Florence wore her own. She’s curvy too, in a way that always used to make Eleanor falter about her own proportions as she reached adulthood and didn’t seem to fill out in the “right” places.

It’s when the beautiful nurse turns towards the group of them assembled and shoots a toothy, lipstick painted grin and wink towards Liebgott that Eleanor remembered why the women felt familiar. She was the nurse that Joe left with that night at the bar, before he came back and took her home with him and Floyd. Based on their conversation in the following days, and the charged look sent towards the man beside her, Eleanor knows without a doubt that they’d been sleeping together. A strange feeling settled in her gut at the thought, and when her eyes flickered to the right she saw Joe look away, his eyes downcast instead of forward at the procession of British nurses. His brows were furrowed, yet his lips were twisted into that smirk of his she’d become so familiar with. It seared itself into her head.

“Maybe.. maybe we should go.” Eleanor said suddenly, and she stepped back before Grant could attempt to convince her otherwise, “Liebgott’s right, I have to check on Tab before my shift.”

“Voice of fuckin’ reason, thank you Verbeken.” He quipped, and Eleanor let him lead her out of the crowd until they were back on the walking path. He didn’t grab at her harshly, but his face was screwed tightly, similar to how it had been the day before when he’d gone all quiet after walking her home.

They walked in silence for a few minutes until she wondered if perhaps his more-morose than usual mood had anything to do with that nurse. She couldn’t leave well enough alone, despite the nagging voice in the back of her mind begging her not to engage with him. Especially about the pretty nurse, whose smile seemed unable to vacate her head.

“Sorry if we made you stay,” She started, as Greenwell Lane came into view, “I dunno if you two are still going together with her leaving, or..”

“Huh?” He asked, and Eleanor swore as she nearly walked into him. He’d stopped to stare at her, his brows furrowed.

“The nurse, she was the one you were seeing right?”

“Nah, I wasn’t seein’ any nurse.” He shook his head, though the preoccupied look on his face didn’t relent. Eleanor shrugged before resuming her steps,

“Alright.”

“Why are you fucking worryin’ about it anyways?” He asked, and once again her feet were rooted to the path. His voice sounded defensive, and the very notion left an embarrassing heat rising up the back of Nora’s throat. She wasn’t worrying. They were friendly, were they not? Maybe she’d misread him, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d done so.

“I’m not worrying about anything, I was trying to be friendly— isn’t that you wanted?” She quipped, tone a little harsh, “Or should we just not fucking talk at all?”

“Real nice.” He sneered, and Eleanor clenched her teeth as he brushed past her. She watched as he stalked away before turning the corner and she followed after him, annoyance sitting heavy against her shoulders as the morning sun grew hotter.

He was on his porch, an aggravated look on his otherwise pleasing face. Nora walked past the house, marching through her own gate. She felt embarrassed, but couldn’t exactly place why. It gnawed at her, nearly as bad as the dew clinging to her skin.

“Are you coming or what?” He called out, and Eleanor paused, turning to face the Hughes’ yard.

“I have to shower” She replied. Joe didn’t move, his hand gripping the doorknob as he shifted on his feet.

“So?” He called again, his tone a bit softer.

“So I’ll come by later.” Nora shrugged, her ears burning. She was starving, and the sweat on her skin and grass stained PT kit seemed to weigh her down heavier with each charged look he shot across the lawn.

“What’ll I tell him?” He asked, voice rather dejected. He’d suddenly begun speaking solely in questions. Eleanor faltered, guilt seeping in behind her tired eyes and food deprived mind. Floyd likely wouldn’t even notice if she came later than she’d promised. If he were anything like her, he was most likely still out cold— the break from training a chance to catch up on sleep. Yet, the frown on Joe’s face made her stutter as she pursed her lips in thought.

“I… I dunno, just tell him I’ll be by after my lecture.” She offered, before twisting the knob between her fingers and entering the house. She didn’t wait for Liebgott’s response. Tab was hardly even critical, he’d survive a few hours of boredom. Since, if anything, being confined to his bed probably bothered the Sergeant more than his torn stitches did.

She’d cleaned herself off and managed to shovel a few pieces of toast in her mouth before journeying back across the village, though the gnawing pit in Eleanor’s stomach didn’t leave. It’d increased after she’d stepped out of the shower, skin goose-fleshed and damp, staring back at her through Florence’s small bathroom mirror. She’d spared a moment, eyes roaming over the harsh jutting of bones and small curves of her own frame. Eleanor had frowned, pensive as she let her hands ghost over the swell of her chest before locating her brassiere. They weren’t ample, but they were there. That was something.

Nora chastised her own thoughts as she crossed the threshold of Easy’s aid station fifteen minutes later, her feet quick as the anagram clock on the wall read quarter to. She was late, though, Eugene seldom minded. If anything the quiet man would likely tease her for not leaving the PT field earlier as he had done.

The head medic was rather good at that; sneaking away unsuspected. Now he looked at her expectantly as Eleanor entered the small room, his hands fiddling with a box of bandages.

“Sorry Gene, got stuck in the procession.” She offered sheepishly, “You know how far my billet is, I had to shower.. but I forgot to eat breakfast this morning, so—“

“Eleanor, you know I don’t give a damn.” He cut her off, a deadpan expression on his pale face. He nodded to the side, and Eleanor’s eyes followed, “Just start unboxing all this conneries.”

She nodded, smiling triumphantly until she noticed the man near said boxes of crap. He was sneaking glances at her, and Eleanor snuck a look at Eugene before the unfamiliar man cleared his throat.

“Ralph Spina,” He introduced himself, moving forward with his hand outstretched, “I’m your new third.”

Nora shook his hand, “Eleanor.”

A chill passed through her, though it wasn’t the man’s fault, not really. Eleanor had only just gotten used to Jansen’s absence, and the flow of her and Gene on their own. A replacement just reiterated the blatantly obvious— he was a replacement, for Ken, who died in a flaming C-47 in a flame filled sky above Normandy.

“Where’d you get transferred from, Ralph?” She asked, her hands grasping one of the boxes perched behind him. He stepped out of the way for her.

“Able.”

Eleanor paused, the heaviness in her shoulders dissipating at Spina’s words. “Oh, you jumped then.”

The words had left her mouth in a tone of relief. Somehow the man not coming straight from a training depot back home made Eleanor feel less guilty about him taking Jansen’s place. Even though the very notion was ridiculous, of that she was aware— but still. Spina knew what it was like; he wasn’t green and overly eager for action. It also meant he’d already had plenty of time to get over the fact he’d be serving with a woman, well aware of the fact that Nightingale had shipped her off with the 101st. If he minded, he had yet to make his opinion known.

“That I did.” He whistled, leaning against the countertop opposite her and Roe, “By the skin of my goddamned teeth, I was last man out and a piece of flak burst the engine soon as my chute opened.”

“Christ.” Nora blanched, and Eugene tutted, “He ain’t need no extra training, if that’s what you were getting at.”

“Just a bit,” She admitted, shooting Spina a half-apologetic glance, “No offence, but I already got my hands full.”

Literally and figuratively, as she sat down to pry open the box and began sorting through the vials within.

Spina chuckled, “You’re stuck takin’ care of that Sergeant who went awol, aren’t ya?”

“You’ve barely unpacked your bags and you already know about it?” She teased, shaking her head, “Floyd’ll be pleased he’s turned into a celebrity.”

“Heard about you before I heard about him.” Spina tutted, transferring his own box of supplies to the table before sitting next to her, “Sergeant Grant and Bunny’s— that’s what they’re calling him, ain’t it?— roommate were talking about ya at the pub last night.”

Eleanor stilled, her lips pursed as she abandoned the vial of iodine in her hands on the table top, “Oh really? And what exactly were they saying?”

“Fuck if I know, just caught your name and the tail end of it; that you were the poor medic suckered into babysitting the bastard.”

“That I am.” Eleanor huffed jokingly. She didn’t mind it actually, Tab’s billet only being next door. If anything she’d rather take care of a wound he’d both gotten and worsened in the most ridiculous (but non-fatal) ways than have him actually be in any danger. Tab was younger than her, not by much, but he was easily one of her favourites among the men. Not that she’d ever admit that.

What she did mind however was the fact that Chuck and Liebgott were apparently talking about her long enough for it not to be only about Floyd. The notion made her uncomfortable, squirmy in her seat like she was a girl again, the kids at school shooting her shitty looks that told her they were snickering about her and she couldn’t do anything about it. God, what the hell did they have to say about her?

“Spina’s from Philadelphia.” Roe pointed out in the silence, and Eleanor’s anxious thoughts dissipated, “Are you really? I’m from Chester County.”

“No shit, we’re basically neighbours.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes, though she grinned as she questioned him further, “You met Joey and Bill yet? I used to live near Joey up in Hughestown, but Guarnere’s from South Philly, never shuts up about it really.”

“Huh, I know a few Guarnere’s..“ Spina trailed off, and the small talk continued in the small room until they’d catalogued whatever supplies battalion had refitted them with. No men came in while they worked, the weapons range training proving to be relatively harmless that afternoon.

Eleanor’s mind replayed Spina’s words as the time passed, thoughts of Chuck and Liebgott talking about her replaying in her mind on a sick loop. She burned with curiosity, more than that— her shoulders felt permanently tensed in agitation the more she worried over it, until Eugene was beside her, his rough hand at the base of her neck.

“Y’alright?” He asked, the drawl of his voice breaking Nora from her internal battle. Her muscles relaxed, head swivelling to meet her friend’s eyes.

“Course I am, why do you ask?”

He didn’t answer her for a moment, shifting on his feet before he spoke.

“You been hidin’ away in that house, and now Talbert—“

“—Gene, you know I don’t mind taking care of Floyd.” She cut him off, “Besides, you hide away just as much, I can’t think of a time you came out to the pub with any of us, not here, not back in the state—“

“—He’s too busy with that wife a’ his.” Spina’s voice rang through the room like a cannon firing, and Eleanor was struck by two things. First, that their new medic had been listening to them, and second, that he’d said Eugene had a wife.

Eleanor sputtered, spinning around to look at Roe as the man’s eyes widened. “Wife?”

“I—“

“What do you mean you’ve got a wife?” Eleanor repeated, her eyes flitting between an uncomfortable Eugene and an embarrassed, though entirely too pleased, Spina.

“Try living with them.” Ralph pointed out, and Eugene shot him an aggravated look, “You got a damn big mouth.”

“Aren’t you billeted with a family?” Eleanor asked, her brows furrowed as her mind raced to remember the home that Eugene and Ken— well, now Ralph, had been living in since they’d crossed the Atlantic. The family had a daughter near their age, if Nora was remembering correctly. She’d only gone over once or twice, Eugene entirely content to be left alone more often than not.

“Wait a minute, did you marry the Newman’s daughter? Without telling me?” She further sputtered, slightly hurt that Eugene hadn’t said a word. He still didn’t, his face screwed together tightly as though he was ready to combust.

“I didn’t not tell ya on purpose.. Rita didn’t want a fuss about it, y’know how the parish is.” He finally muttered, a pained look on his face as he did, and most of the hurt fell away from Eleanor’s shoulders at the mortified expression on her friend’s face.

Out of any of them, Roe was the last she’d have expected to find an English girl. He always seemed so reserved, and the thought of him courting the (very pretty, from what she remembered) girl without anyone knowing left a devilish amusement surging through Eleanor at Roe’s uncomfortable sputtering.

“Gene, don’t tell me you were..”

“I ain’t having this conversation with you.” His cheeks were red, and Nora guffawed, “Oh my god, D’you know I’ve been bullying the rest of them for being deviants? And the whole time you’ve been shacking up with your billet?”

“She’s a real nice girl,” He defended, and Eleanor shook her head, grinning, “I’d hope so, since you married her— without telling me or anyone else for that matter.”

The latter words still contained a bite as they left her lips. She was somewhat hurt, even if her and Gene’s friendship did lie on a foundation of mutual introversion and comfortable silence. She didn’t think that their dynamic would result in a marriage left unshared and unspoken. It tugged at her, though Nora’s feelings of delight over Roe’s mortification won out. Slightly. Ever so slightly.

He picked up on it, though Gene always did.

“I’m sorry Eleanor,” He said, quieter— so Spina’d stop listening in, “I was gonna tell ya, but we almost didn’t— get hitched, I mean.. I dunno, it was gonna be in June, the sixth if you can believe it.”

“You’re shitting me.” She huffed, her words breathy as the reminder of their first jump left the hairs on the back of her neck prickled.

“She.. I was gonna leave it be, wait to see if I came back, I didn’t wanna put her through hell if I didn’t.” He muttered, and Eleanor’s brows furrowed at his words.

“Are you an idiot?” She asked, Roe’s words settling uncomfortably over her. Even she, as closed off to intimacy as she was, knew that a ring meant little in determining how upset Rita Newman, well, now Rita Roe apparently, would have been if Eugene didn’t come back to Aldbourne.

Eleanor couldn’t off and marry a civilian even if she wished to, being a man’s wife automatically disqualifying her for Nightingale, but she’d spent the last month and a half worrying over the enlisted men she’d been deployed with. None of them were her husbands, hell, Joey was the closest to family she had, and the thought of him dying was enough to haunt her dreams and make her chest heave. She’d have to find Joey at some point that day— having missed him in PT. Mal had said something about him and Bill adopting some replacement in Bull’s squad. The thought made her a little envious, though she hadn’t exactly helped her own case by hiding away at Flo’s for the better part of their first week back.

“Yeah, she said as much.” Eugene scoffed, his lips quirked in a smile as though he was replaying said moment. Eleanor didn’t know the Newman’s eldest daughter all that well despite them being around the same age, but she did see the blonde cuff a Fox company man in the ear once for no doubt saying something unsavoury their first few months in the village. She only wondered how she and Gene got on, how they began— God, Nora was no better than a nosy gossip.

“She yelled at me somethin’ fierce, then dragged me down to that church by the diner the day before we left Aldbourne.” He continued, and Eleanor snorted, “You got her a ring though, right?”

Eugene looked offended. “‘Course I did.”

“It’s a nice ring, real big.” Spina cut in from the other side of the room, sneaking a glance at them. Eleanor rolled her eyes, her hands at her hips as she looked between the pair of them.

“I can’t believe he knew before I did, you owe me Gene.” She pointed a finger at him, and now it was Roe’s turn to roll his eyes.

A thought passed over her, “Wait, did Ken know?”

The room got quiet. Ralph knew better than to show his eavesdropping any longer, turning away from them and busying himself with something on one of the shelves.

“Well, we shared a room.” Roe admitted, and Eleanor nodded, a small smile inching on her face as she thought about Jansen and his lack of filter or care for anything.

“Good, I bet he was real happy for you.”

Eugene snorted, and Eleanor imagined the stoic man in front of her was probably remembering some uncouth acknowledgement from their lost third medic, though Eugene didn’t share it.

“Yeah, he was.”

“I am too, in case you thought I wasn’t,” She grinned, “But you’ve gotta let me meet her properly, so we can talk about how much of an idiot you can be sometimes.”

“A’ course, why wouldn’t I want that?” Eugene drawled, sarcasm tinging his words as he turned away from her with a smirk.

•••

Mr. Hughes, or Victor— as he’d demanded she call him, let her in at the door. Eleanor walked lazily up the wooden staircase with her med bag on her hip, the voices from within the room she walked towards growing more discernible as she went. Nora stilled just as her hand reached the brass doorknob.

“But was the fuck worth it? Look at ya.”

“Oh fuck off Lieb— she wasn’t complaining when my face was under her skirt.”

Eleanor pushed open the door with a wrinkled nose, Liebgott tutting as she did,

“‘Least ya can say you hurt yourself in the service, maybe then they’ll give your dumbass a medal.”

If Tab was going to retort, his mouth shut as Eleanor entered the room, his cheeks red.

“Nice conversation.” She mused, shutting the door behind her and swinging her med pack off of her shoulder, “What’re you two playing?”

They each held cards, and it was Liebgott who spoke first.

“Cribbage.” His shoulders were hunched forward, voice tense.

“Holy shit, and I was worried Lieb scared ya off.” Tab grinned from his spot on the bed. Not much had changed, relatively speaking, since Eleanor had seen to him the day before, “Could a’ sworn you’d forgot about me Birdie.”

Joe was looking at her from over his cards, sneaking glances as she walked further into the shared bedroom. “As if I’m scared of him.” She bit out, an attempt to escape whatever awkward back and forth their walk back that morning had ended on. It worked, as Joe’s face morphed from amusement to faux-agitation from where he sat on the rug next to Floyd’s bed.

“Real confidence booster, thanks Verbeken,” He snorted, “Tell that to the Krauts.”

“Good thing I’m not a German soldier.” She shot back, moving to swat at Tab’s legs so he’d shift them and make room for her. He did, and her ass hit the man’s bed just as a cocky laugh left Liebgott’s mouth.

“Well ya are a broad, and a Jew,” He tutted, “Two obvious things to rule that out pretty quickly.”

“She also ain’t fucking German,” Floyd rolled his eyes, “Shit, they’d probably be more scared a’ you than you’d be a’ them.”

Eleanor furrowed her brows, “What am I, a bear?”

“Could be, w— Ow!” Eleanor’s fingers pressed through Tab’s sleep shirt as he spoke, and she nodded at the feeling of the stitches holding.

“A little warning could be nice.” He huffed, lifting his shirt up to his chest as Eleanor smirked.

“Don’t tear your stitches next time.” She could practically hear Joe’s leer in Tab’s direction at her words.

“You heard the woman.” He quipped, and Eleanor looked over at him as he abandoned his cards in his lap. His hair was longer, brown locks falling further into his eyes than they normally would. She wondered who cut his hair, seeing as though he practically cut everyone else’s. did he do his own?

Tab’s pronounced exhale broke her from her thoughts, his stomach flexing beneath her touch. Nora turned back towards him, peeling the used bandage from its place above his belly button and tearing open a sulfa packet with her teeth to clean the fresh stitches. They looked good. They’d continue to look good, so long as the Sergeant beneath her remained stationary.

“Your hair’s gettin’ long.” It seemed Eleanor’s observations about the Californian went both ways. She shrugged, not bothering to look at him as she placed fresh gauze over the now thoroughly sterile wound. He spoke again, a teasing glint in his raspy voice,

“You’re startin’ to look like a ruffian.”

“I like it.” Floyd cut in, reaching over to tug at a dark strand that hung at her shoulder. Eleanor rolled her eyes, turning— both out of Tab’s grasp and to face Joe and his mocking smile.

“George and I got this whole plan to be outlaws together, I’m getting ready.” She shot back, the corners of her mouth tugging upwards as his dimples quirked in response. He tutted.

“You want me to cut it?”

“God no,” Eleanor shuddered, “And have you cut me again?”

“Verbeken, you knocked the damn bucket and you know it.” He defended.

“So, you told me you don’t cut girls hair anyways.” Eleanor raised her brows. Tab shifted beside her, sitting up on his pillow now that Eleanor was finished prodding at him.

“But I got four sisters.” He shrugged. Eleanor’s ears pricked at that. Two years and the man before her had never spoken about his family, at least, not to her. She knew Tab had all brothers, and that a few of them were serving in other regiments. Still, the casual slip of personal information intrigued her. What was life like for him at home? She didn’t ask.

“And they won’t let you touch their hair?” She asked, “I can’t say I blame them.”

He snorted at that, shaking his head. “Are you gonna stick around just to shit on me? Or do ya wanna play a round with us at least?”

Eleanor hummed. “Well, we can’t play cribbage, but I’m game for a round of rummy.”

“Alright, sure— just shut your fuckin’ yap for once.”

•••

Eleanor found herself spending an awful amount of time next door for the rest of the week— a perk, or consequence, of being designated Sergeant Floyd Talbert’s keeper. It’s surely extra work on top of their rigorous return to training, though Nora had no wish to complain. Not really. Tab let her change his bandages and bark orders at him with only the slightest scowl, and a small part of her found the sudden authority over her friend (and Sergeant) somewhat amusing. She wouldn’t say she’s drunk on power, though bossing Floyd around was certainly an entertaining break to the physically demanding monotony their return to Aldbourne signified.

Eleanor was not the only one who found joy in it, though. Liebgott— or her co-torturer, as Tab had said once or twice now, was just as entertained by the injured man’s boredom. The man’s taunting laugh seemed permanently stuck in her head, buzzing behind her ears at each scowl that graced Tab’s face. It was a nice laugh, she thought. She’d thought that before, though their lapse into unlikely friendship had left her far more observant.

It is a friendship, even though the notion feels foreign and wasn’t one she’d willingly address. They hadn’t ever not been friends, since Toccoa. Sort of. There were moments where the thought of him made her blood boil, and she was just as certain he would say the same, yet his presence was unavoidable. Not in the sense that they belonged to the same company, but that somehow her eyes and mind always sought him out, regardless of their tenuous standing. The man endlessly confused her, though she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t equally as intrigued.

He was laughing at her now.

Not maliciously, she didn’t think, and not alone. But he was laughing nonetheless, his mouth tugged into a smirk at her expense while Eleanor squirmed uncomfortably on the carpet of his and Floyd’s bedroom.

“Chuck, tell her she’s being an asshole.” He leered. He sat back against the side of his own bed, head tipped towards her as he fiddled with the razor in his lap.

“I’m not being an asshole.” She rolled her eyes as Floyd’s socked foot left the bed to nudge her arm. She ducked, a grimace on her lips as he spoke,

“She ain’t the only one you’ve sliced— remember how good you got my ear at Bragg?”

“I didn’t slice either of ya,” He huffed, “See the hole in your stomach, that’s a goddamn slice.”

“Slice or not, I dunno if I trust a barber whose sisters won’t even let him cut their hair.” Eleanor tutted, “Chuck?”

Grant was watching the back-and-forth with a smirk, his lips pressed tight into a quirked line despite both of their attempts to include him in the conversation.

Tab’s isolation had seen a few guests make their way through the Hughes’ front door that week. Chuck was a frequent flyer, Perco and Alley had come by the day before, and even Skinny managed to pop in once or twice. Needless to say, the man huddled underneath his blankets was not short for company.

“Don’t involve me in this.” Chuck finally grumbled, tossing his cards onto the carpet, “I’m sick a’ fuckin’ gin rummy, I ain’t playin’ anymore.”

“Oh come on!” Floyd whined as Grant stood up on shaky legs, dusting off his pants before shooting Tab a leer, “Buddy, the platoon’s down a Sergeant, I gotta help Compton set up for the march.”

“I’m gonna be all alone..” Tab lamented, lying back onto his pillow as Nora snorted.

“I’m sure any of us would switch places with you to get outta the march Tab, it’s supposed to rain.”

“It rained all the time in France.” Liebgott cut in, and the look on his face suggested he’d only pointed it out to contradict her. She’d know, there wasn’t a single person on the line in Normandy who actually enjoyed a rained-out trench.

“Yeah and you bitched every damn time.” Grant scoffed as he shrugged on his jacket. A-ha! Case in point. Eleanor smirked, “Anyways, I guess we’ll see you in an hour Chuck.”

“Yeah yeah,” He waved off, nodding in Tab’s direction, “Rinse the shmuck of all his cash for me.”

“Aye-aye Sergeant.” Liebgott teased, the room falling into a comfortable silence once the blond man made himself scarce.

“Another round of rummy?” Eleanor asked, and Floyd groaned.

“Chuck’s right, I’m fuckin’ sick of rummy.”

Eleanor sighed, dropping her cards to her lap to tuck her hair behind her ears. It was getting long, and as much as she’d been enjoying teasing the man across from her she wouldn’t mind getting it cut.

“Liebgott, do you wanna cut my hair before the march?” She asked tentatively, and the Californian’s smirk etched up his face, dimples pulled back.

“I dunno, feels like I ain’t appreciated enough around here.” He teased, and Nora rolled her eyes before pushing herself up to her feet.

“But if you insist…” He stretched out the words, a lazy grin on his face as he copied her movements.

“What, now you two are fuckin’ leaving me?” Floyd whined, and Liebgott tutted.

“I ain’t gettin’ hair all over the wood, I’m cuttin’ it in the garden.” As though it were obvious. Eleanor shot Floyd an apologetic smile before following Joe out of the room and done the stairs, his hand twisting the scissors around his fingers as they went.

“Better not make me regret this.” She said as they stepped out onto the back porch. Eleanor sat on the lowest step as Liebgott made a noise of indignation. It only served to spur her on further.

“At least tell me your sisters names.” Eleanor huffed, her shoulders tensed as she felt Liebgott settle behind her.

“Why?” His voice dripped with agitation.

“So I can send them each a letter confirming their fears if you cut me again.” She quipped, smirking as she heard him still.

“Do you want me to cut your damn hair or what Verbeken?” He snapped, and Nora’s smile fell slightly at realization she’d pissed him off.

“Yeah, you can cut it.” She said softly, resisting the urge to shudder as his hands ran through her hair. The sound of his scissors moving was the only one to be heard for the few minutes it took him to trim Eleanor’s hair back to her preferred length just below her chin.

She blinked as Liebgott stood from the step, moving around to crouch in front of her.

“Mary’s two years younger than me, then there’s Elizabeth— but we call her Beth,” He spoke, “Then Anna and Barbara.”

He timed his words with the first brush of his fingers against Nora’s forehead, her mind blank for a moment as his hands met her skin.

“Huh?” She asked.

“My sisters.” He shrugged, and before Eleanor could speak he grinned, “I got a brother too— Stephen, since you’re so fuckin’ nosey.”

Eleanor hummed, though the noise was strangled as Joe snipped away at her overgrown bangs, her breath in her throat as the scissors ghosted her furrowed brows.

“There, was it that hard?” He finished, hand swiping across her forehead with his breath as he blew away the excess hair. She flinched, “Well, my letters can be nice ones I guess.”

“Oh so now you’re nice.” He grunted, and Eleanor yelped as he grabbed her by the arms to pull her to her feet. She steadied herself, hands instinctually going to her dark hair, mussing it a bit.

“Thanks Liebgott.”

“Well, don’t ever say I didn’t do anything nice for ya.”

His words contained a bite that made her falter, though Eleanor didn’t acknowledge it. Joe had already walked halfway to the door, his hand on the brass knob before he turned back to spare her a glance.

She blinked, forcing a smile as he turned back around and pushed through the door. Maybe she’d imagined it, or maybe he hadn’t meant for it to come out that way, but his dejected, almost irritated tone kept replaying in her head as she walked out through the side gate and towards her own cottage to change into her full OD’s.

Thankfully, it hadn’t rained. Eleanor thought it still might, given the grey, wispy clouds that seemed to littler the night sky— though for the two hours Easy had been made to march through the English countryside in full equipment the sky hadn’t opened to rain down on them. The air was thick, though in a way it only ever was when rain was imminent. She looked up, tipping her helmet back to glance up at what little light she could see through the clouds, taking a deep breath. She hoped that if the weather did sour it’d be once she was back at Flo’s in the comfort of her bed. The rain pattering against the cottage’s old windows was perhaps her favourite sound aside from whatever Flo played on the radiogram.

“Hey.”

Joey’s gruff voice broke her from her musings. She turned towards him, her helmet tipping back over her brows as she did.

“You got your hair cut,” He acknowledged, “Thought you’d start pullin’ out the braids again.”

Eleanor snorted, the memory of her one and only hairstyle in their youth a somewhat comforting one.

“Yeah I let Lieb cut it.” She said.

“You two are like Frick and Frack all a’ the sudden.” Joey teased, and Eleanor shot him an irritated glance, “He happens to live with my pet-Sergeant.”

“Oh yeah, how is Tab doin?” The teasing glint never left his voice, and Eleanor rolled her eyes.

“He’s doing just fine, bored mostly,” She muttered, “Come visit him, to spare me if anything.”

Joey opened his mouth to answer, though Bill sauntered up to the pair of them and clapped Toye on the shoulder before the man could get a word out. “D’you give her shit for ditchin’ us?”

Eleanor laughed, shooting Bill a dirty look as Joey chuckled, “Ditch you? Do you know how much shit I’ve had to put up with this week?”

“Yeah yeah, that’s what they all say.” Guarnere teased, “Don’t roll your eyes at me— it’s alright, I get it, you’re too cool to hang out with your old pals Joey and Bill—“

“— Oh really?” Eleanor played along, crossing her arms over her chest and tipping her chin up and away from the pair of them, “Cause I heard you aren’t bothered at all, in fact… you seem pretty busy with that replacement of yours.”

“Oh shut up.” Joey teased, bumping her shoulder, “You both sound like little girls.. go get fuckin’ Heffron.”

Bill shot Eleanor a wink as she huffed, turning to Joey as Bill walked away, “You know I’m only joking right? I couldn’t care less that you two have found some other poor dope to annoy.”

“You callin’ yourself a dope?” He grinned, and Eleanor rolled her eyes. Bill reappeared, a red haired young man (she only knew that because the grinning man had his helmet balanced against his hip) beside him. Luz made up the rear, hands on both of their shoulders, and Eleanor shot him a wave.

“This here’s Babe.”

Eleanor thought he’d heard him wrong, Bill’s gruff voice suffering a mistranslation amid the cool air and chatter around them while they shed unnecessary gear.

She furrowed her brows, head cocked to ask as much before George clapped her on the shoulder,

“Jheez Birdie, I know English ain’t your first language but did you forget it all together?”

“George, shut up,” She teased, shoving him back, “Babe, really?”

“Yeah— real helpful, ain’t it?”

“Alright Casanova.” Toye cut in, an incredulous look on his face. Eleanor snorted as so-called-Babe shifted on his feet.

“Birdie n’ Babe, it’s got a nice ring to it.” He grinned, and Eleanor couldn’t help the blush crawling its way to her cheeks as she rolled her eyes. The new kid was fucking with her, and Bill and Joe looked far too amused by it.

“Did you two stooges put him up to this?” She asked, a grin tugging at her lips as she looked the redhead up and down in disbelief.

“Oh cmon, I’m a charmin’ fella,” Babe teased, grinning, “I’m butterin’ up all the medics, thinkin’ ahead.”

“You think I’d encourage this?” Joey asked in faux-offence, shaking his head as he slung an arm over Eleanor’s shoulder. Eleanor let him lead them away, not before he called out, “Kid thinks he’s hilarious, you got your own bird at home Heffron— go write your Doris some love letters.”

Eleanor grinned, laughing as they left the field and began to walk back into town. She’d meant to wait for Liebgott, as they’d been walking home together from most training exercises all week, though she didn’t spot him amidst the platoons huddled together after their march.

Then again, she’d spent most of the week with him. And Tab of course, though Tab didn’t leave the four walls of their bedroom unless it was to use the bathroom. She really had been spending most of her time with him, ‘ditching’ Joey and Bill.

Joey didn’t take it personally, he told her as much when she asked him as they reached the first few shops that signalled their return to the village. It was just past midnight, if her watch had the correct time, and Eleanor wanted nothing more than to collapse in bed. It was Friday, which meant she could sleep in, though she hadn’t been able to lately, her body seeming to rise with the sun no matter how sleep-deprived her mind felt.

They passed the pub when Joey’s arm left her shoulder, and her closest friend shot her a grin and asked if she was sure she didn’t want to come in for a pint.

“Just one,” He reasoned, “Most a’ the guys’ll be coming straight here.”

Eleanor shook her head, “I’m gonna head to bed, but I’ll come out with you tomorrow.”

Joey had expected her denial, though her promise of next time made his brows raise. She scoffed, “Don’t give me that look— it’s not like I swore the pub off completely.”

“Alright, I’ll see ya tomorrow then.” He hummed, ruffling her hair before heading towards the entrance.

Eleanor couldn’t avoid a night out tomorrow even if she wished too, but she didn’t. In all honesty she missed the raucousness of a good night out with the rest of them. But, as she’d been half out the door a few hours earlier Speirs had pulled her aside. He’d scared the fucking shit out of her when he’d done it, sneaking around like that in Flo’s kitchen, but he’d basically ordered her to find a different home to crash at on Saturday night. He’d been allusive when she asked, but Nora would bet money that he’d be asking her billet to marry him.

She walked down the dark main road that Greenwell Lane hinged off of, and turned onto the street with a sigh. She itched for a cigarette, and let her hands fumble against her pockets in the dark as she approached the house, her fingers curling around her pack of Lucky Strikes just as a voice rang out, sending her jumping.

“Hey, you got a lighter?”

“Jesus Christ.” She spat, turning to the house next door where Liebgott sat on the porch, an unlit cigarette between his lips. “Don’t— don’t fucking do that.”

He apologized, though the amused smirk on his face told Eleanor he didn’t really mean it. She shook her head, agitated, as she turned away from her gate and made her way through the Hughes’, her lighter in her hands.

She lit her own first, inhaling and letting the cigarette sit between her fingers as she handed Joe the brass box. The flame lit his features, obscured by the dark, and he patted the stoop next to him before handing her back the lighter.

Eleanor sat down, her arm brushing against his.

“Surprised you’re not down at the pub with the rest of them.” She mused, sneaking a glance towards the older man. Joe tutted, the cigarette hanging from his mouth swaying slightly as he did.

“Too tired for that tonight, maybe tomorrow.”

Eleanor didn’t know why she asked, as she could have asked Joey and Bill while they were still on the field, but the words had slipped past her mouth before she could take them back, “Think I could crash with you and Floyd tomorrow?” exhaling the Lucky Strike between her lips.

Joe looked at her from over his own, brows furrowed for a moment. He took the cigarette away from his mouth just as the creases in his face dissipated.

“Sure, but I ain’t taking the couch again, shit hurts,” He complained, “Why?”

“Can you keep a secret?” She asked.

“Sure I can.”

“I think Speirs is gonna ask Flo to marry him.”

“You don’t say,” He whistled, “You seem excited about that.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Her brows furrowed.

“Thought you weren’t the marriage type,” He shrugged, “That whole thing with whatshisname.”

“Oh, Peter.”

“The asshole.” He corrected, and Eleanor squirmed in her seat. He’d said it almost ferociously, nostrils flared. It stung her, slightly. Then again, Eleanor didn’t want to think about that day. She doubted her and Liebgott would have a pleasant conversation if she did. Then again, she wasn’t sure if their current conversation was pleasant.

“I dunno,” Eleanor paused, “Thats different.”

“How’s it different?” He challenged, tossing the cigarette onto the gravel.

“He wanted to marry me to keep me in one place,” She took a drag, frowning as she felt the cigarette hit filter, “Wasn’t cause he loved me, or wanted us to be in one place together, yknow?”

Liebgott nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“Besides I barely knew him— and not like Flo and Speirs, they.. they fit together somehow, Peter didn’t know anything about me really, nothing important anyways.”

Joe hummed. “Like what?”

“Huh?”

“Like, what’s the important shit?”

“I.. I don’t know.” She shook her head, flustered. She hadn’t expected him to press her on it, and in all honesty didn’t have an answer. She could feel his stare boring into the side of her face.

“Anyways— it doesn’t matter. It was fun till it wasn’t, yknow?” She huffed, itching under the older man’s stare. She hated when he did that, she could never read him when he did that.

“Yeah, fun till it wasn’t.” He affirmed, and Eleanor exhaled once he looked away, eyes back on the road ahead of them. He would know, being as familiar as half the other men when it came to unserious flings. It’d get him off her back.

“I’m uh..” She began, shuffling up and off of the step, “I’m gonna head in, I’ll see you tomorrow then?”

“Yeah,” He nodded, standing up after her, “See you tomorrow Verbeken.”

•••

The pub was loud, and Skinny was mumbling in her ear as she took a sip of her second whiskey. Eleanor flinched as his breath tickled her neck, and she sat back, nudging the man on the shoulder, “Jesus Skinny, you’re breathing down my neck.”

“Leave ‘er alone Sisk.” Johnny teased from his other side.

“I’m only askin’ her about Tab!” He reasoned, leaning over to bother Martin, “You haven’t even been over to see him once, I’d know— he won’t shut the fuck up about it.”

“All anyone seems to ask me lately is about Tab.” Eleanor rolled her eyes, though accepted the lit cigarette Wayne handed her as a peace offering, “But Sisk has got a point Johnny.”

“Yeah yeah, I’ll go see him when I see him.” The Sergeant acquiesced. Just then George reappeared, plopping himself back into his seat on Eleanor’s right. The drink he’d gone to fetch for her was slid over, knocking against the half filled one she was currently nursing.

“Your highness.” George said with a flourish, and Eleanor rolled her eyes, taking a drag of her cigarette as Skinny whistled.

“Malark are you seein’ this?” He called out, and Don and Skip’s animated conversation across the table was cut short as the two men looked over.

“Oh-ho-ho, we havin’ a good night tonight Corporal Verbeken?” Skip cheered, “You wanna grab me a drink Luz?”

“Aye, me too.” Don teased, and George grinned.

“Gentlemen, when one a’ you gets a matching tattoo with me I’ll do whatever the hell you want, until then, it’s Birdie and I against the world.”

“Exactly.” Eleanor affirmed, raising her now-finished second glass in their direction as she took a last hit of the Lucky Strike, flicking it into the ash tray at the table’s center.

“I dunno how Faye would feel if I came home with an Eagle on my ass.” Muck tutted, and Eleanor beamed, “Did you tell her I liked her new hairdo?”

“Of course I did, she knows I been showin’ her off to anyone who’ll listen.”

“Ugh, love.” George faux-groaned, and Eleanor giggled at his forlorn expression as she reached for her glass, taking a sip as she felt a hand drape itself against her head.

“You behavin?” Joey slurred, and Eleanor grimaced as she felt him lean against her chair, nearly toppling it forward and into the table. “Don’t you think I should be asking you that?”

“Here ya go Birdie.” Babe grinned, and another glass was placed in front of her. Eleanor laughed as Don’s eyes widened, “Are you fucking kiddin’ me?”

“Don’t get mad at me you aren’t being resourceful Malarkey.” She hummed, and the new arrivals to the table quickly found seats. Eleanor spared a glance at her brother as Joey seemed to flop into the one Bill shoved him towards, “Besides, Babe said he’s butterin’ up all the medics, so now if one of you needs extra bandages, I know who I’m giving ‘em too.”

“That is cruel, Corporal.” Don teased, enunciating each word as Skip flicked him in the ear, “Ow— watch it!”

Eleanor rolled her eyes as she quickly downed the drink George had given her. As she did, she spotted Liebgott enter the pub and noticed their table, as close to the door as it was. She swallowed with difficulty, once his eyes met hers, and coughed as George slapped her against the back. “Y’alright Birdie?”

She hadn’t been sure if he was coming, really. Eleanor had been waiting for the perfect moment to beg Joey and Bill to let her crash with them given that most of them had been at the pub nearly an hour now; and that the man now pulling up a chair wasn’t home when she’d gone to check on Tab before she left.

“You fellas just don’t get it, Birdie knows where her loyalties lie— we’re a regular Pennsylvania quartet.” Bill said, slamming his hand against the table with a grin. “Hey Liebgott, nice a’ ya to join us.”

Joe nodded, accepting the pint Chuck seemed to have waiting for him. Eleanor waved at him in greeting, too engrossed in her drink and Bill’s absurd declaration to do much else. Still, her ears pricked when he waved halfheartedly back, his brows furrowed and lips upturned as he noticed the glass-graveyard in front of her.

“What the fuck’s a quartet?” Joey murmured, his head leaning against his arm on the table as Nora laughed, “Hey, Spina’s from Pennsylvania too, and Winters, we can’t just be a quartet.”

“‘Sides, I don’t need to butter up Spina, look at ‘em over there.” Babe reasoned, gesturing to where Ralph was ‘butterin up’ one of the American nurses still in the village.

“Absolutely not, we gotta be selective here, you think I can let in any Joe and Harry who says they’re from Pennsylvania? There’d be too many a’ us.” Bill quipped, just as Joey once again asked what a quartet was.

“You idiots already got a Joe,” Malarkey pointed out, gesturing to the inebriated man, “It’s a singin’ group by the way, ya drunk.”

“We’re singin? Since when?” Joey mumbled, and Eleanor grinned as he sat up straight, clearing his throat, “Hey Malark, I know you know this one.”

“Buddy, what the—“ Bill began, though Joe’s deep voice cut him off, “In Dublin's fair city…Where the girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone…”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” Bill howled as Joey’s singing tapered out, and Malarkey’s eyes lit up as he slammed his fist against the table,

“As she wheeled her wheel-barrow, Through streets broad and narrow, Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!"”

“Oh my god! I remember this one!” Eleanor shrieked, and she felt George snatch the half-filled glass from her hands as she practically vibrated in her seat, “Alive, alive, oh, Alive, alive, oh!—“

“—Crying "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!” Both Joey and Malarkey cut her off, as George wrapped his free arm around the side of Eleanor’s head to press it against the side of his own.

“Jesus Christ Birdie, leave the singin’ to the real damn birds.” He moaned, and Eleanor wrestled herself from his hold as the men around the table shook with laughter, and pouted.

“I used to like that one.” She reasoned, looking around at the shocked faces as her fingers curled around her glass. She took a heavy sip, just as Don stopped laughing enough to clear his throat.

“How the hell do you know Molly Malone?”

“S’how we taught ‘er English.” Joey answered for her, and Eleanor rolled her eyes, “Don’t lie.”

“I ain’t a liar,” He shook his head, “You and Liz used to sing it up n’down the street!”

“I knew what I was singing.” Nora asserted, raising her glass in his direction and smirking as the drunk man once again began to refute her words.

It was a half truth, as Eleanor’s English had certainly improved under the Toye’s tutelage. Then again, the man across the table also had a proclivity for teaching her curse words, but she didn’t bring that up.

“But did ya know how you were singin’?” George nudged her side, “My poor fuckin’ ears, Toye’s the only one outta the three of yous who can carry a note.”

“Nuh-uh, I got the voice of a damn angel.” Don shook his finger from across the table. Eleanor snorted, finishing her drink and letting her head rest against her hand in much the same fashion as Joey’s was. What a pair, the two of them were. She missed Liz, the old Irish tune reminding her suddenly of happier times.

Then again, she’d still come home to a tense house that seemed far too big for the two people living within its walls. Except for once, when she was ten— pa had gone home to tie loose ends and she’d spent almost two months well fed with both warm meals and warm faces. In a way she felt similar, now. No matter where she went Eleanor constantly teetered between feeling happiest surrounded by smiling faces and desperately hoping eyes didn’t linger too long.

But adrenaline was adrenaline no matter the circumstances, she supposed. They were off the line, back in England and surrounded by peace, quiet, and routine. Her revelling in it made her feel somewhat guilty, considering her real purpose and how comfort wasn’t supposed to factor into it. Then again, Nora wasn’t entirely sure she was capable of feeling comfort. Not wholly or deeply.

She watched as Joe and Chuck stood, the sound of their chairs scraping against the wood tingling down her spine as she flinched ever so slightly. She didn’t turn her head fully, instead looking down at the empty glasses bracketing her arms. It looked as though they were heading to the bar.

“You know any more Irish songs?” Heffron quirked, and Eleanor looked up, noticing the redhead was speaking to her. She liked him, and his lopsided boyish grin. He seemed nice enough, but his charm sat in her stomach funny. He didn’t know her, not really— and he seemed to warm to the fact that she didn’t have a cock between her legs far too easily. She wondered if the two men that flanked him had something. They must have, because she couldn’t understand Babe’s behaviour otherwise.

Spina had transferred from a company within the regiment, but the young man Joey and Bill seemed to have adopted came straight from a training depot back home. He was too nice, and Eleanor was waiting for the foot to drop.. the other new faces had made sure to steer clear of her thus far.

Except for Peacock, but he had been another 101 transfer and even then she wished he would. The man had in only a week proved to be a horrible nag, to all of them.

“Mhm,” She muttered, “Joey’s family’s very patriotic.” Smirking as the man in question heard his name,

“Want me to sing another?”

“Toye, if I wanted a show I would a’ gone to a fucking show you Mick.” Martin whined.

Babe grinned again, laughing at the irritated look on Joey’s face. Bill clapped his hand over her brother’s neck, and Nora smiled as the two began to squabble.

“What language did ya speak?” Babe nodded towards her, and Eleanor was interrupted from her observations, “Huh?”

“What’d you speak at home?” He repeated, and Skinny threw an arm around her before she could answer,

“Her and doc are always speakin’ French, wait, you met Roe yet?”

Heffron shook his head, “Nah I haven’t— French?”

“It was Dutch, we called her Dutchie.” Joey interrupted, and Eleanor wrinkled her nose, “Stop telling people that!”

“But it’s true!” He reasoned, raising his arms in surrender as Eleanor shook her head.

“How many fuckin’ languages do you speak? You sure you ain’t in intelligence? Jesus Christ.” Skip whistled, “We gotta send your ass to Nixon.”

“Three,” She shrugged, stealing a cigarette from the carton on the table, she lit it and brought it to her lips before continuing, “But not really, my French is horrible.”

“She’s a real genius boys.” George drawled, and Eleanor elbowed him in the ribs as he cackled.

“Je bent een eikel.” She hissed, and George whistled, “What the hell’d you call me?”

Eleanor was about to tell the man to her left that she’d called him an angel, really, when Malarkey guffawed,

“Jesus Christ, that for the table?”

“Get your own Malark.” Liebgott quipped, and Eleanor’s lips quirked as he and Chuck deposited their bounty on the wood— several pints.

Eleanor took a drag of the Lucky Strike perched between her lips and giggled, “They’ve gotta catch up Don.”

“Speakin a’ which, I’m gettin’ another, you want one?” George sighed, and Eleanor nodded as he stood from the table. Eleanor took the opportunity to slide over and steal his seat, now directly next to Joe and Chuck.

“Where were you today?” She asked, her voice quieter as she let her eyes meet the side of Liebgott’s face. He took a swig of his drink before turning towards her, “Playin’ soccer with F company.”

She took another drag, “Really? Never took you for the type.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” He teased, his dimples pulled back as Eleanor fought the urge to smirk, “I dunno, you seem like a baseball guy.”

Joe tutted, “Guess you don’t know me then.”

Nora didn’t respond to that, her head fuzzy as she sat back with a shrug. She took a last drag of her cigarette before depositing it in the ash tray.

“Anymore sports up your sleeve?” She offered as Joe took an especially long swig of his drink.

“I used to box,” He shrugged, and Eleanor snorted, “That I can see.”

It seemed to have been the wrong thing to say, at least in her whiskey-addled mind, as a heat crawled up the back of her neck and wrapped itself around to cradle her jaw the second the words had left Nora’s mouth. Liebgott bristled slightly, his brows furrowed. She looked away from him, just as he shifted beside her and brushed his arm against her own.

“You buildin’ up a collection over there or what?” He asked, and Nora’s eyes met his again after flickering towards the short glasses in front of her now empty seat. “First time back, had to make it count I guess.”

“Heard you got Luz and the new one waiting on ya hand and feet.” His voice had an edge to it that made her falter, and Eleanor suddenly felt the urge to explain herself. Why, she wasn’t sure.

“Y’know George.. and well Babe said he’s tryna get on all the medics’ good sides— so the drinks don’t hurt.”

“And is he?” Liebgott asked, his stare holding her own, “Gettin’ on your good side I mean?”

Eleanor opened her mouth to respond when George plopped into her previous seat, sliding a fresh glass over towards her, “We playin musical chairs now?” He chuckled, “What’re you two whisperin’ about?”

Eleanor brought the glass to her lips as she felt Liebgott swing his arm over her shoulder almost mockingly, choking as the man squeezed and shook her ever so slightly.

“Oh ya know, just the sorry son of a bitch I left back at home.” He forced a teasing smile, his arm not budging against her.

“S’that why you look like you’re drinkin’ for two?” George grinned, and Liebgott raised his second glass in response and took a swig.

“Hey, we’re leavin’ before he spews, Y’alright?” Bill had made his way around the table, Joey leaning against him precariously.

“Huh?— Oh, yeah I’m good..” Eleanor spoke, nodding her head towards Liebgott, whose arm was still around her, and Bill’s brows furrowed ever so slightly. He didn’t say anything else, not to her at least, telling Chuck he’d see him back at the house before dragging Toye out of the pub.

“Nice singin’ by the way,” Liebgott’s teasing voice was in her ear, and she shuddered before turning her head to meet his mocking expression, “You could give those USO girls a run for their money.”

“Shut up, smart ass.” She shook her head, taking another sip of her drink. She felt him chuckle beside her, or above her. He was still holding onto her, and the notion made her lightheaded. Though, that could have been the drinks. She wondered if the Californian even realized he’d left his arm draped over her shoulder, long after the joke of it— as that must be the reason, had landed.

“Hey miss Molly Malone, come dance.” Babe called across the table as the slower music playing in the pub changed to one more upbeat.

Eleanor sputtered, pointing to herself as Heffron rolled his eyes, “Who else would I be talkin’ to? You think I’m asking Luz to Lindy Hop?”

“Shit, maybe I’d let ya!” George whistled as Eleanor laughed, shaking her head, “Take him, he’s willing.”

“Oh come on.. I been itchin’ to dance and I need a partner.” He begged, and Liebgott snorted.

“Tough break kid, Verbeken don’t dance.”

“When you meet Sergeant Talbert you can blame him for that, one time he spun me so hard I thought he broke my ankle..” Eleanor shook her head, attempting a a serious expression.

“Lieb— since when are you her keeper?” Mal guffawed, and Muck shook his head beside him, “They been babysittin’ Tab— he’s probably got them playing ma and pa, who woulda thought, these two suddenly thick as thieves?”

Liebgott’s arm left her shoulders as the eyes around the table suddenly seemed to focus on them. The sudden lack of contact left her feeling uncomfortably bare and Eleanor cleared her throat, “Y’know what, maybe I will dance, just this once.”

“Hey!” Heffron cheered as George and Skip pounded their fists against the table, and Nora slipped out of her chair, bracing against George’s for support. The empty glasses that littered the table seemed to stare at her mockingly.

Babe jumped up far too quickly for her brain to register, and suddenly the redhead was dragging her out into the crowd of soldiers, nurses, and Aldbourne locals just as The Andrews Sisters began to blare from the pub’s battered jukebox.

He spun her around, and Eleanor shrieked as he led them through a rather energetic jitterbug. Her head was spinning midway through the second song when she finally tripped over her own feet, Babe catching her before she fell forward.

“Christ—“

“—I told you I don’t dance!” She laughed, her hand clutching the sleeve of his jacket as she righted herself. She smoothed down her skirt once the room stopped spinning, Heffron grinning as she shook her head and pushed him forward and back towards the table.

Liebgott had a sour look on his face, and George had reclaimed his seat, talking the man’s ear off about God knows what when Eleanor slinked her way back into her original chair, heartily accepting the lit cigarette Skinny thrust towards her.

“Who would a’ thunk it, new kid’s made a dancer outta you.” He teased, and Eleanor let the smoke coat her throat before blowing it out in the man’s face, “I’m spinning, Wayne, shut up.”

Malarkey and Skip had left while she’d been away from the table, and a quick look to the left told her Johnny had snuck out as well. The table was dwindling, the hours on the clock growing later and later. She was tired, her feet aching and head suddenly far too heavy.

“Alright I’m leavin, anyone else?” Luz cut out once Eleanor smoked through her cigarette. Skinny and Heffron— Eleanor’s current enemy for making her dance, left with him.

“As fun as this is I’m missin’ my bed.” Chuck drawled not long after, and Liebgott grunted in response, finishing his last pint. Eleanor watched as he tipped his head back, his Adams-apple bobbing as the amber liquid slowly left the glass.

“Yeah, me too.” She muttered, pushing away from the table. Liebgott had been quiet since she’d gone to dance, avoiding her eye. She wondered if he even remembered she was staying with him and Tab tonight, and a part of her was scared to ask.

She finally cleared her throat a few minutes after Grant had taken a left turn down his own street, the pair of them silently tugging along until the sign for Greenwell Lane came into view. It was cold, and Eleanor pulled her jacket closer to her as she turned towards Liebgott, his brows furrowed and footsteps jumbled.

“I can still stay at yours, right?” She asked, and it was as though her voice had reminded him she was there. The creases between his brows straightened out, and he huffed,

“Nah, I’m gonna let ya sleep in the garden.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes, “Get me a blanket at least? Maybe a pillow, if you’ve got any to spare.”

He answered with another amused huff, his eyes trailing his feet as they reached the Hughes’ gate. Eleanor faltered as he held the gate open for her ever so slightly, reaching forward to catch it before it closed and follow him up the path. His hair looked nice, and shorter. She’d meant to tell him that when he’d first sat down at the pub but she’d forgotten. She wondered again if he cut it himself, or if he got one of the other guys to do it for him.

Her limbs felt heavy as she followed him up the porch, though something was off, had been since he’d taken his arm off of her. Maybe it shouldn’t have been there in the first place, but the whiskeys made Nora think it felt rather nice. But he was being weird now, like he often did, and Eleanor followed him up the stairs with bated breath, her neck tense as the tension in the air (or was it all in her head?) settled further and further over the pair of them.

“I’ll bring you a change a’ clothes.”

He was talking to her again, his voice slightly slurred as his arm guided her by the small of her back towards the bathroom door. She could feel the heat of his fingers through her blazer and dress shirt, burning her skin and radiating up her spine.

Eleanor walked into the small bathroom and caught her reflection. Her hair was mussed, and she instinctively ran her hands through it, the flush of her cheeks the only colour to be found on her face. Any lipstick Florence had forced on her earlier was likely littered against the many empty glasses she’d left at the pub, a faint stain in its place.

She heard footsteps, and Liebgott stood in the doorway, his jaw still clenched like it had been since they left the bar. She itched to smooth the muscles, though the intrusive thought remained buried in her head as she took the plaid pyjamas from him and moved to close the door. She paused at the last moment.

He didn’t look right when he frowned, though she only thought so now because she’d seen him so amused that week, instigating the Sergeant whose snoring in the room next door could be heard through the walls.

“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?” His voice reflected the strained look on his face, gruff and stiff as his stare bored into her own. She opened her mouth, though his hand reached out to push the door the rest of the way shut,

“Change your clothes Verbeken.” He said, softer this time, though the bathroom door was closed before she could read his face.

Eleanor left her dress uniform in a pile on the floor, her heels buried beneath them as she fiddled with the men’s pyjamas that hung too loose on her frame. She’d finished buttoning the shirt when Liebgott knocked on the door, “You done?”

“Yeah.” She muttered, opening the door to see he had also changed. His dog tags sat starkly against the clean white of his undershirt, the shining pendant catching in the dim light of the hallway.

Maybe he was angry with her again. She didn’t know, but she didn’t want to look at his face and find out. Or maybe she did, the past week had been a rather nice one. She pushed past him and headed for the stairs as his arm reached out to grab her own, stopping her in place.

“What are you doing?” He asked, and Eleanor faltered, “Going downstairs, you said I had the couch this time.”

She heard him scoff, and suddenly he was pulling her back towards the bathroom and his bedroom.

“I was just— just go to bed, I’ll take the couch.” He muttered, and suddenly his clipped tone was too much for her. Eleanor turned around, slipping her arm from his hold.

“Why are you being so weird all of the sudden, did I do something?” She asked, a familiar warmth in her chest awaiting the inevitable; confirmation she’d somehow done something to sow discord.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His voice was softer, almost intentional, like he’d caught himself and slipped on a mask. It still felt wrong, like he was only trying to get her off his back.

“You’re like, fucking mad at me for some reason,” She bristled, “I didn’t do shit to you, you’re the one who..” She trailed off, unsure of what it was she even wanted to say. They’d been good lately. The thought of ruining that and rehashing what she’d rather banish to obscurity made bile rise to her throat and threaten to smother her on the spot.

“You called me pretty,” She brought up, voice unsure as though she’d imagined it, “In Normandy.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes widening in the dim light. Eleanor felt just as surprised as his expression suggested, unsure why that of all things had been what her mind had conjured.

“Yeah well, seemed like the type a’ shit he’d respond to.” He bit out, voice hoarse.

“Yeah,” She nodded, forcing a small laugh that sounded more like a choke, “He would I guess.” She was choking, under his gaze and the weight of her embarrassment on her shoulders. Somehow his response made her feel worse than no response at all would have.

His eyes flashed with something, or maybe it was the way Joe’s subtle step forward made the light catch them ever so slightly. She stepped back, almost outside of herself, his face so close to hers before suddenly it was Joe stepping back, his brows furrowed and jaw tense.

“Are you going to let me through?” She asked barely above a whisper, afraid that if she spoke any louder the words would leave strained, her voice threatening to crack and splinter the longer he stared at her.

“I’ll just..” She began, her eyes downcast and heavy as she moved to brush past him, when suddenly his warm hands were on her shoulders, pushing her backwards until her back met the bathroom door they’d left ajar, and the sound of it creaking on its hinges was the only sound Eleanor’s brain registered before his lips were on hers’ and any coherent thought rushed out of her like a dam breaking.

If Joe wasn’t gripping her so tightly Eleanor might have fallen, her knees weak as his mouth hungrily moved against her own, and Eleanor gasped into his mouth as his arms moved to drag her chest flush against his own.

Her mind had slipped into a frantic numbness as she lifted her arms to drag her shaking hands through his hair, tugging against him as she let him push her backwards until her back hit the countertop and all she could taste was the beer on his mouth and God, his mouth.

This was wrong. So incredibly wrong— and yet the thought of him stopping was borderline sickening.

“We shouldn’t do this,” She begged, though for a moment it hadn’t even sounded like her own voice, “Please.”

His grip on her didn’t loosen, and Eleanor’s chest heaved as his rough hands found her face, pulling her back towards him and reconnecting their mouths sloppily, almost angrily. She melted into it, his mouth on hers so foreign, yet as addicting as the calming smoke of a cigarette that promised to linger long after it had been smoked through. She pulled at him, her fingernails dragging against the cotton of his undershirt so tight she thought she’d ripped it.

A desperate noise escaped her as he practically rutted against her, their skin fusing despite the fabric that separated them. Nothing about he man devouring her was gentle, but for the briefest moment she thought she'd let him devour her whole if it meant he'd continue.

"Shouldn't or can't?" He panted, and Eleanor's mouth hung open as she drank in the way he stared at her with blown out puils. “Shouldn’t or can’t?”

Eleanor couldn’t breathe, not while he looked so, lewd. His chest heaved against her own as his eyes scanned her face, and when a moan escaped her mouth at the drag of his dog tags against her chest, Eleanor lets him lift her with strong arms until was practically seated in the sink, her back folded against the mirror.

his teeth dragged across her exposed neck, a well placed and breath-stealing distraction from the way his hands made quick work of the buttons on her— his, shirt. It was a tantalizing distraction, though it’d be better if Eleanor’s mind wasn’t aflame with the screaming thought that it was his teeth. On her neck. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to care, at least enough to throw him off of her.

How could she? When for as touch-starved as she was his lips left a hot trail across the expanse of her neck, collarbones, and Eleanor gasped as his lips found her breast, his tongue swirling and nipping at her pebbled skin while his hand made quick work of the other, all the while his body flush against hers left Eleanor unable to think about anything other than the fact that it was him— his mouth, his hands, his hips flush against hers as they seemed to melt together in a desperate depiction of panting, frantic animals.

She tugged at his hair, his lips back on her neck before her pants were smothered once more, until they weren’t, his lips leaving her skin as footsteps padded down the hallway. Joe reached out and connected his hand with the doorknob just as it twisted, a pounding rocking the door.

Eleanor felt as though she’d been thrown into freezing water, any warmth evaporated as Floyd Talbert’s annoyed voice cut through air.

“Lieb, I gotta fucking piss.” He hissed, and Eleanor’s eyes widened as Joe’s panting ceased. Both of them held their breath, and Eleanor wished the ground would swallow her whole.

Lips swollen, his hair looked as though she’d tried to rip it from his scalp, undershirt stretched where her hands had grabbed at him like an animal. She swallowed harshly.

With a mortifying start, Eleanor realized that her tits were out, wet patches chilled by the air now that his lips and hands had ceased their commitment to stripping her bare.

“Give me a sec.” He spat, fingers turning the lock on the door before suddenly they couldn’t look at each other, Eleanor’s ears ringing as his eyes settled on her exposed chest. He shuddered as though he’d been slapped.

“What the fuck are you doing in there?” Tab knocked on the door again, and suddenly Joe’s hands were back on her, though this time he was redoing the buttons of her— his shirt, his fingers shaking against her ribs as she jumped from the counter, landing practically on top of him.

Her nose brushed his, and Eleanor felt sick.

“D’you have a bird in there?” Floyd huffed in disbelief, his knocking increasing in fervor as the doorknob rattled, “Joe—“

“—Give me a goddamn second!” He snapped, and Eleanor felt as though she was outside herself, watching in horror as Tab’s knocking relented.

Joe tried to reach for her, but the window opposite the door was suddenly the only thing Nora was able to focus on. She wretched it open, looking down.

“Don’t you dare.” Joe hissed from behind her, and Eleanor swallowed harshly, “Give me my clothes.”

“Are you fucking nuts?” He whispered, and Eleanor pushed past him to grab her uniform and throw it out of the window before he could stop her.

It wasn’t far— and maybe it was the state of her mind but a part of Eleanor itched to jump and roll like they’d been taught since Fort Bragg.

A window was not a plane, and the man behind hers pyjamas were not a parachute, though the longer she stayed trapped in that room with the evidence of what they’d done smothering her the closer she’d come to having to look at him.

The Hughes’ gutter was supported by white wainscotting that in that moment may as well have been a ladder, and before Joe could reach for her again Eleanor swung her bare foot through the window.

•••

luvrottt speaks— Y’ALL LMFAOOO this fic is at almost 90K words already…

anywho pls welcome @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy to the phantom cinematic universe ‼️‼️‼️

I do not even know where to begin, with this chapter, so I will let y’all discuss in the replies… however I’m so sorry I took such a long time between updates, I hope both the insanity of this chapter & it’s equally insane word count make up for it, we’re officially in phase two of joenora 💀