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California was terrible. It was absolutely terrible. Everyone back home seemed to think that California was filled with movie stars and everyone defecated gold the way they all talked about it. Well, David had been there for a whole week at Hoberg’s Resort, outside of San Francisco, and he’d hated every single minute of it.
“Are you going with Harry this morning?” David’s mother asked. The whole happy family was at the main lodge for breakfast and David was trying to actively squash the swell of resentment rising in him. He could have been in upstate New York with the rest of his friends, bumming around, finding parties around the lakes, enjoying the last summer before he went off to college. Instead, they were spending a month visiting his stepfather’s family in California at a resort that catered to people who believed that they wanted to experience the outdoors, but really only wanted to do it if they could have a cocktail on the banks of the lake while wearing their stylish new bathing suits.
Harry, David’s younger brother, had found a fellow group of fourteen-year-olds and they’d been roaming the resort, wreaking teenage havoc and sneaking bottles of liquor. David had spent the time reading in the library.
“No, thank you,” David said firmly. “I wanted to finish my book. Maybe I’ll head to the library after breakfast.”
“Oh, David, you’ve got to get outdoors,” David’s mother said.
“You can come with us!” Jocelyn, David’s six-year-old half-sister said. Charlie, Jocelyn’s twin, echoed the offer.
No matter how David felt about Archie, his stepfather, David loved Jocelyn and Charlie beyond words. “That’s a great offer,” David said. “How about I track you guys down after lunch at the kids’ club?”
They accepted his negotiation tactic and the conversation should have moved on. Except that his mother turned back to David. “I really do think that it would be good to get outside. This is a beautiful area. I know that you’ve been in that library, day after day. You could go for a walk or check out the archery range. You’ve always been excellent at archery.”
David had last picked up a bow when he’d been seven and in scouts, but he didn’t want to get dragged into an argument. “Sure, Mom. I’ll go for a walk.”
Assuaged, the conversation finally moved forward.
David was half-tempted to ignore his mother’s instructions and go to his usual place in the library to read his book. Actually visiting the library to see if David was following orders seemed like it would be a step farther than his mother was willing to do, but David didn’t want to have an argument if she did find him in there. And, David admitted begrudgingly, it was a nice day to be outside. Nice and warm, no mosquitos out, so David wandered for a while until he found a bench overlooking the backside of the picturesque main lodge that also had a beautiful view of the lake. Even his mother wouldn’t be able to argue with that.
David was in the middle of The Grapes of Wrath when he heard a door bang open in the back area behind the main lodge. Two people were speaking in hushed voices that increased in volume once the door slammed shut.
“What the hell were you thinking?” a male voice said, each word sharp and livid.
“I was thinking that I told you that we’re done, so you needed to get your hands off of me,” a female voice said, bristling back. “Stop holding my arm—you’re hurting me.”
David sat up straight at that. He couldn’t see either of the people speaking, but that was clear enough. He should go and see if the woman needed help.
“Yeah? This hurts? Maybe you should shut the fuck up then. You’re embarrassing yourself and me.”
“Seriously, Robbie, you’re hurting my arm,” the woman said and fear was beginning to creep into her voice, so David put his book down, mind made up, and headed straight from his spot on the bench.
Just as he turned the corner, revealing a woman who looked to be a year or two older than David, maybe nineteen or twenty, and a well-muscled man a few years older than that, the door from the main lodge shot open, slamming against the wall and a skinny but attractive guy, dark brown hair, slicked back, in his early twenties, came roaring out of the lodge.
“You get the fuck away from Virginia,” the attractive guy said, so angry, he was almost spitting out his words.
“Look, Joe,” the first guy said condescendingly. David noted that he did not, in fact, move his hand from where he was holding onto the woman’s—Virginia’s—arm, “this doesn’t concern you at all. None of your business.”
“Yeah, try that one again, Robbie,” the attractive one—Joe—said. “I’m making it my business.”
“You and what army?” Robbie said. “You gonna take me on?” Robbie straightened up, revealing that in addition to his general health, he was a good three inches taller and at least thirty pounds heavier than Joe.
“You want to go, let’s go,” Joe said. “I can guess that you’re thinking, ‘I’ve got this punk’s number. Cake walk.’ Well, you better make sure that if I go down, I’m not getting back up. Because I will fucking come after you and I will tear you apart, even if I have to use my fucking teeth to do it.”
And the thing was—Joe looked like he was issuing a prophecy. There was a sense of doom around his words, that Robbie was signing his own death warrant, and even Robbie, who did not look like he was overly burdened with intelligence, seemed to sense it.
“Fuck you,” Robbie said, but it lacked the confidence from his earlier casual violence and threats.
“You touch a girl like that again—you’re going to wish that someone had put you out of your god damn misery right here and now,” Joe said.
Robbie dropped Virginia’s arm, pushing her back to Joe. “Fuck you—she’s a used-up slut anyways. Have fun slumming it, Ginny.”
And then the door banged open again, Robbie disappearing back into the bowels of the main lodge. Belatedly, David realized that Robbie was wearing the same non-descript tan pants and crisply pressed shirt as Joe and the rest of the lodge staff. Joe, Robbie and Virginia must all be Hoberg employees.
Virginia let out a deep breath. “Joe…” she said. A long beat passed and she looked down at the ground, avoiding Joe’s eyes. “Thanks—but you know that’s just going to make things harder for you.”
“I can look out for myself,” Joe said and then Virginia reached out to pat his arm.
“I’ve got to get back inside. But thanks, Joe.”
Once she was gone, Joe stood there for a minute, his whole body tense, and then his eyes shot over to David. He’d been the only one to have David in his eyeline.
“I—” David started. He wasn’t sure where he planned to go with it, but he felt like it was incumbent upon him to say something.
“What are you looking at?” Joe said, his tone hostile enough that David took an immediate step back.
“I heard—” David started. “That is, I thought I could help, not that you needed help. I just heard—”
“You heard nothing,” Joe said. “You saw nothing. Nothing.” He drew himself up and managed to look even more intimidating than when he’d been threatening to kick Robbie’s ass to New York City and back.
“Absolutely,” David affirmed. “Nothing.”
Joe threw David a dirty look, like he thought that David’s easy acquiescence belied something more nefarious, but David was all in on Joe’s plan. Besides, what would David do anyways? Any complaint he made about Robbie would probably tar Virginia and Joe with the same brush.
Joe turned without a by your leave and was back through the door into the main lodge, the door slamming shut behind him.
David stood in the same spot, amidst the trash cans and the dim smell of oil and decomposing food, and felt slightly dazed.
The next afternoon, David was heading to the library when he caught a glimpse of someone cleaning in the dining area. He stopped short, arrested by the fact that it was Joe. He had thought about Joe all afternoon yesterday, replaying their conversation and trying to think about how he could have played it differently. Ended on something other than Joe stomping away.
Now was David’s chance. Maybe. Maybe it was his chance. Joe hadn’t seemed the friendliest, but David had felt this tug towards him. Maybe Joe wasn’t what someone might have said was traditionally handsome, but he was striking. And the way that he held himself—he was completely confident in himself. David needed to meet him. And David wasn’t the type to give up on something after the first try.
“You stand there any longer, people might think you’re the door,” Joe said, his voice a bored drawl from inside the dining area.
David froze for a second, caught in the act, before he forced himself inside.
“Joe, right?” David tried. Joe didn’t even look up from where he was cleaning one of the tables.
“Guests aren’t supposed to be in here after lunch hours,” Joe said.
“Er,” David said, trying to think of a way that he could get Joe to talk to him, “can I help?”
Joe looked up at that. “No—if someone caught me giving a guest something to clean off the tables with, I’d probably get sacked.”
“Well—” David said, not wanting to give up.
“Come on, kid, get out of here. Scram, we gotta get this place ready for dinner,” Joe said.
“What do you do outside of work?” David tried.
Joe stopped at that and fixed David with a look. “We work long hours here,” he said. “I’m not exactly fly fishing in my free time.”
“But you must do something,” David said.
“Yeah, and who wants to know it?” Joe asked, going back to cleaning. He started on a new table.
“Me,” David said, his voice low.
“Sure, kid,” Joe said. He gave David a look that was probably intended to intimidate David into leaving, but David had been in prep school for years and had been dealing with hazing from upperclassmen since he was ten. He stood his ground.
“What time do you finish?” David asked, feeling unbelievably bold but determined to see this through. If Joe wanted to tell him to go jump in a lake, he’d get the message, but David felt like he needed to press his luck.
Joe looked up again and gave David a long look. Eventually he said, a kind of half-smile to his drawl, “You seem like a pretty smart kid—I’ll be you can figure it out.” Then he smirked at David, “Seriously, get out of here, guests aren’t allowed in here right now.”
David backed out, trying not to show how triumphant he felt. Joe had essentially told David to figure out when he’d be out. That seemed to be at least mildly encouraging. And David could do that.
In the library, David thought through the little that he knew about Joe. Other than the fact that he was good looking and seemed to be chivalrous with respect to women. He worked at the main lodge; he probably did bussing and cleaning after the meals since David didn’t recognize him as one of the waitstaff. He probably got done some time after the dinner service ended. Maybe he finished around ten or eleven at night.
The next two nights, David hung around the lodge well after dinner finished, telling his mother that he’d made some friends and was going to hang out with them. Harry had scoffed, but his mother and Archie had seemed to relax, as if they’d been afraid that David was deficient in some way for failing to bond with the other young men staying at the lodge.
David didn’t want to make friends—he had plenty of friends back home, many of which were going to Harvard with him, where he’d presumably make more friends.
Well, he didn’t want to make friends other than Joe. The only genuinely interesting person that David had met so far at the Hoberg’s.
He’d yet to see Joe getting off work, but he had seen a bunch of the other staff leaving after the dinner shift had ended. On the third night, David decided to follow one of the groups that got off at the same time back. They headed west of the main lodge, back on one of the paths through shrubs, lit by lanterns.
As he continued on the path, he heard the strains of music start to float by, getting louder and louder until he emerged from the path next to a large building. It was more utilitarian than the other cottages sprinkled around the property, made out of wood and forming a sort of U-shape. Putting two and two together, David had arrived at the staff lodging.
There was a smallish bonfire going on out front while music was being played from a record player inside the building and the window left open in order for others to hear it. And there were a lot of others. Men and women sitting around the bonfire, a few paired up and dancing to the sounds of Tommy Dorsey’s orchestra. Most of the people had cups in their hands, drinking as they talked or danced.
If the look of the staff housing hadn’t made it clear, then the overall look of the group would. Everyone seemed fairly young, their clothing faster than what the Hoberg’s guests wore. Ladies’ hems a touch higher, the linen of the men’s pants coarser. It was warm for jackets; none of the men wore wearing any. David felt a little out of place in his suit jacket from dinner, but all concern flew out of his mind as his eye snagged on Joe sitting near the edge of the perimeter, chatting with a man.
David stood still, unsure if he should stay or go, until another man appeared right in front of David. He gave David a pleasant smile. “I’m sorry, this area is off-limits to guests.”
“I—” David made an abortive attempt at arguing. “That is—Joe?”
The man looked over at Joe. “Joe!” he called. Joe looked over at David, his eyebrows raised and then stood up, slowly making his way over to where David stood. “You know this guy?”
Joe gave David a long and assessing look.
The man looked back at David. “You should probably go.”
David wasn’t sure what he expected, but he didn’t want to leave. He didn’t move and instead raised his eyebrows at Joe, daring him.
“Len, it’s fine,” Joe said, “I’ll cover him.”
“Look, Fralich was clear. No guests.”
“Shove off,” Joe said, but there wasn’t any heat to it.
Len rolled his eyes and waved his hands at Joe. “Fine. No skin off my nose. Your problem.”
Joe motioned David forward and threw a sideways glance at him as he headed towards an area with a small table a distance from the fire. “You. From the lodge.”
“Yes, from the lodge,” David affirmed. “You remembered.”
“Sure,” Joe said, laughing a little. He gave David a questioning look. “Want a drink? Nothing fancy like at the lodge or ballroom.”
It was a test. “Whatever you have is fine,” David said.
Joe turned and fussed at the table for a second and then handed David a cup. David took a sip—it was a punch of some kind, spiked heavily with gin. He took another sip.
Joe headed back towards the area that he’d been sitting at previously—now resolved into a long log. David followed him, feeling a bit like a dog following a human that had thrown it a scrap of food. But the man that Joe had been talking to was gone, so David took the seat next to Joe.
“What’s your name?” Joe asked. His voice and body were relaxed and he seemed curious instead of hostile. It was different than the two other times he’d caught a glimpse of Joe.
Joe took a long pull of his drink, tipping his head back and David couldn’t help but track the movement.
Fuck. Fuck.
David hadn’t let himself think about why he’d been interested in Joe, but the reason had just become abundantly clear, as evidenced by the growing discomfort in his pants.
“Name?” Joe asked again, turning to David. David flushed, certain that he was turning bright red in the firelight.
“David,” David got out. “David Webster.”
“Webster?” Joe asked. “How do you feel about dictionaries?”
David snorted. “Gee, that’s real original.”
“You don’t like the company, feel free to find something new,” Joe said, but there was no real threat to his words.
“I like the company fine,” David said. “You from around here?”
“Nah,” Joe said, “San Francisco, but my buddy hooked me up with a spot here and the money for the summer is better than what I’d make at home. What about the illustrious Websters? Where are they from?”
“New York,” David said. “New York City.”
“Ah, one of those,” Joe said. “And how are you liking this slice of paradise?”
“I hate it,” David said darkly and Joe tipped back his head and howled with laughter.
“You New Englanders,” he said, but he was smiling at David in a way that made his heart start beating erratically, so David figured that Joe could say anything he wanted about New England.
They talked for a while—this was Joe’s second summer at the Hoberg’s, he had a large family back home with a bunch of sisters, had moved out west when he was a kid. When Joe found out that David was going to Harvard in the fall, he let out another burst of laughter. “Wow, a college boy, here amongst our midst,” he said, letting the words drawl in a way that insinuated exactly what he thought of a Harvard boy next to him.
“Hey,” David said, heatedly. That wasn’t why he was here and if Joe thought that—
“Don’t wind yourself up, college boy,” Joe said. “You want a tour of the place? I’m guessing you haven’t been this way before.”
He looked at David expectantly and David hoped—hoped with every part of his body—that Joe meant what he thought Joe meant.
“Yes,” David heard himself say. “I would love to.”
By mutual unspoken agreement, they both finished their drinks, the gin not even registering to David’s mind. And then Joe stood up, his long, lean body illuminated by the firelight, and then inclined his head to the left and then started walking in that direction.
David followed fast on his heels.
They went around the back area of the staff cabins. There was a little path leading away from the cluster and David followed Joe as he stepped away from the brightness of the staff housing, heading into the moon-lit forest. It took a few minutes, but David’s night vision kicked in, the moon bright enough to lead the path clearly.
Joe stopped near a large tree and David stopped next to him, resting his back against the trunk. “You slumming it?” Joe asked, his voice dropped low as he leaned in towards David.
David swallowed and shook his head, his cock so hard from the proximity of Joe, it hurt.
“What else do you call it, you following me around?” Joe said and stepped so close, there was barely enough space to breathe. David wanted Joe even closer.
David didn’t have an answer for that that didn’t sound horrible and like a reason to get punched straight in the face, he just tried to keep breathing, his stomach flipflopping like crazy.
“Why aren’t you hanging out with the other Richie Richs?” Joe asked, his voice quiet and menacing and it was making David so hard, there was no way that there could be any blood left anywhere else in his body.
“I—” David tried. “You—you’re just—” He stopped, stymied. How to explain this overriding pull to be near Joe? The intensity of David’s attraction overwhelmed him and he couldn’t put into words the sheer want of it.
Joe huffed out a laugh and David had a second to fear that Joe was going to turn and leave him, stranded in these unfamiliar woods, when he leaned forward and kissed David. He bit at David’s lips, just as his arms came up to keep David in place, holding so hard, it hurt in a pleasure-pain burst.
David kissed back—he’d had a girlfriend during his senior year who had attended Rosemary Hall. Her name was Ellen. Ellen was the daughter of one of David’s father’s friends, and Ellen and David had flirted like mad during last summer, before writing to each other during the year. They’d called it quits at the end of the year.
Kissing Ellen had never felt like this. Electric, intense, crowding every single thought out of David’s head except the need for more.
Joe pressed against David and David could feel where Joe was hard, Joe’s cock pressing against David’s thigh. David’s hand hovered awkwardly—he wanted to reach out and grasp Joe, feel the weight of Joe’s cock. He’d had a half-fumbled encounter once at school, the two of them grasping each other’s cocks and stroking each other until they came.
Is that what Joe wanted?
Joe solved the question by spitting on his hand and then thrusting his hand into David’s pants, grabbing David firmly and stroking him. Joe’s grip was a touch hard, almost painful but so incredibly good.
David had some half-thought idea of reaching out for Joe, but he barely had the coordination to remain standing up, the intensity of every stroke driving every other consideration away.
“Oh god,” David said. He tried to say something but all that came out was a moan and Joe slapped a hand over David’s mouth.
“Shhhh,” Joe hissed.
David panted against Joe’s hand—the delicious tension rising and rising until his balls drew tight and then he was coming, a sheer rush of perfection where David’s body felt like it had been flooded by a cocktail called euphoria.
The come down lasted some time. When David finally had the wherewithal to open his eyes, Joe was frantically bringing himself off in front of him. David tried to reach out to help, but Joe kept one hand on David’s chest, effectively pinning him against the tree. David could have pushed him away, but he was torn between wanting to follow Joe’s lead and get his hands on Joe’s cock.
Joe’s pants were half down and when he came, he spilled over his hand onto the ground, tipping forward and resting his head against David’s shoulder.
“Fuck,” Joe said eventually and then wiped his hand on David’s shirt.
“Hey,” David said, but it was half-hearted at best.
Joe deigned to tell David that he got off before the dinner rush since he worked set-up for breakfast, so David ate an early dinner, letting his mother believe that he’d made friends and was hanging out with them. He waited near the back of the lodge for Joe to get off his shift around 7 p.m.
This time, Joe gave David a half-smirk when he saw him. “Hey there, college boy,” he said, making the act of going to college sound like it ought to be illegal.
“Hey Joe,” David said and that made Joe smile, which made something light right up in David’s chest.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Joe said. “I’ve got a good spot for us.”
He did—Joe took David to a spot that overlooked the lake. It was a beautiful view, the sun setting against the lake in a riot of orange and reds, but they were surrounded by trees, so it still felt secluded. Like no one could stumble across them.
Joe cocked an eyebrow at David and David took the opportunity for what it was.
After they’d cleaned themselves up, Joe revealed that he’d brought two bottles of coca-cola and some cinnamon bread that they kitchen had made. They watched the rest of the sun set and David felt like he could come to really like California.
“Do you like it here?” David asked Joe.
Joe looked at David and then rubbed his hand against his jaw. “Here at the Hobergs or…?”
“California,” David said. “Do you like living in California? I always thought that I’d spend most of my life back east. But this is nice.”
“I thought you hated it here,” Joe said, snickering, especially when David leveled a glare at him. “Yeah, I like California. Michigan was cold as hell. It gets a little cold here, but not so bad. And the summers are nice.”
They certainly were, David agreed with that.
David kept deliberately vague about his new group of friends, but his mom was so happy that David wasn’t moping around, clearly wishing he was back in New York, that she didn’t try and pry any further. Harry seemed to guess at some of it—presumably because he never saw David around with any of the other young men his age—but he’d had years of pretending he didn’t care about what David did, so he didn’t seem inclined to drop the act now.
David felt like he was living in a dream. Every night, he waited for Joe to get off and then the two of them went off somewhere. Some nights, they hung around with the rest of the staff, David feeling awkward and like a sore thumb sticking out, but willing to be there if it meant seeing Joe. Other nights, they rambled around the Hoberg woods, letting the strains of the big band music from the open-air ballroom surround them, making it feel even more like a dream.
It was almost time to meet Joe, so David was hanging near one of the small fire pits near the lodge when someone called out David’s name.
David looked up, expecting Joe, but it wasn’t him at all. It was a wiry guy about David’s age who resolved himself into Colin Templeton, another boy from Taft.
“Colin!” David said, jumping up. “What are you doing here?” They hadn’t been close by any special means, Colin had been one of the more athletically-inclined boys at school. He’d been quarterback for the football team and star on the baseball team, throwing a mean pitch.
“My mother’s family is out here,” Colin said. “And I’m going to Stanford this fall, so I’ve come out to visit for a while.”
“Well, it’s great to see you!” David said and they partook of the manly pastime of thumping each other on the back and checking in on their mutual acquaintances.
When David stood back, he saw Joe standing, his attention fixed on David, near the lodge.
“I’ve got to go,” David told Colin. “But I’ll see you for breakfast tomorrow?”
“Yeah. And I’m going to show you up at the archery range,” Colin said confidently, “so don’t be a poor sport.”
“Of course,” David said, automatically, his mind already on Joe.
Joe didn’t talk as they walked away from the lodge.
“Long day?” David offered. Joe turned around and glared at David hard enough that David took a step back. He held up his hands in surrender.
“Like you know anything about a hard day of work,” Joe said.
It stung. Joe wasn’t exactly wrong—David had never worked any job, really. He’d spent a few days in his father’s offices, but he couldn’t have called what he’d done there working. It wasn’t even worth bringing up that David worked hard—he worked hard all the time. He studied, he got up at dawn for rowing, he didn’t gamble away his spending money.
But that wasn’t scratching the surface of anything. David couldn’t understand what it was like to be in Joe’s position and to need to work to survive. He could be a layabout like plenty of his friends—they would go to college, drink every night until they passed out on the floor of some house, and still get respectable jobs after college. They could do absolutely nothing at those jobs and their future would still be gilded—money from their families to support whatever habits of leisure they wanted.
David saw all of that in an instant. And he knew that whatever Joe was angry about, it probably wasn’t about David. But it hurt all the same.
“You know I don’t,” he said quietly.
“This just a wild story to tell all of your friends, college boy?” Joe snarled, turning towards David.
“No, of course, not,” David said, bewildered. Joe stepped forward, almost pressing against David. David instinctively took a step back. Joe followed, moving forward and forward again, until David was pressed up against some tree, the bark digging into David’s back but David couldn’t even think about it.
Joe grabbed David’s shoulders, like he wanted to shake David, and David waited for the movement that never came.
They were both breathing hard. Joe unbuttoned David’s pants and pushed them down, reaching down into his underpants to grip David’s cock. Like a flaring match head, David became aware all at once that he was hard, so incredibly hard.
“Are you sure? Looking for a good story to tell your college friends about your summer in California?” Joe asked, his voice quiet and his grip painful and yet David couldn’t—didn’t want to do anything to—stop it, his dick jerking in Joe’s grasp. “All about that poor schmuck who worked at Hobergs?”
“No, Joe, I would never—” David started.
“Do you let every Tom, Dick or Harry dick you around?” Joe asked.
“What? No, not at all,” David breathed out, trying to follow what was happening and failing miserably.
“It sure looked like you were getting friendly with that boy back there,” Joe said and he bit down on David’s shoulder. David sucked in breath—from the shock of it, from the pain of it, from the fact that it was like a direct wire to his cock lighting him up.
“No—he’s just. No one. Someone from school. I’ve never even thought about him—God, Joe, please,” David panted.
“Please what?” Joe asked. He stopped suddenly and David, embarrassingly, felt himself thrust up into Joe’s hand, desperate for more.
“More, god, more,” David said, his voice breaking.
Joe leaned in and kissed David, hard. Biting, forceful, controlling every facet of the kiss.
David moaned, broken, nonsense words coming out. He sounded needy and desperate and if he’d been even remotely capable of critical thinking, would have been horrified and embarrassed. But there was no room for that, there was only Joe’s hand and Joe’s mouth and Joe’s body and David wanted every part of that that he could have.
“Beg for it,” Joe said, his voice thick and demanding. David could only comply, pleading, canting his hips—he wanted it so badly. Joe’s hand resumed its pace, the calluses on Joe’s hand rubbing across David’s dick and lighting Joe up.
“Please, Joe,” David was babbling, sounds coming out of his mouth with no rhyme or reason and Joe was making murmuring sounds of assent and then David’s body tipped over the edge, every muscle drawing up, and David came so long, it felt like everything had been pulled out of him, sheer ecstasy flooding in and cutting each string holding them tight.
He breathed wetly into Joe’s shoulder and waited for his body to get itself in working order. Once his legs were in a good condition, David dropped down to his knees. He looked up at Joe—Joe had never let David get this far before. He’d let David rub him off, once or twice, but when David had offered to suck him, Joe had ignored the offer.
But David wanted Joe in his mouth. He was wild with it. David expected some type of protest or push away as David unbuttoned Joe’s pants, but Joe just stood there, eyes glittering, watching David.
David took a deep breath, uncharted waters and all that, and then pushed down Joe’s pants and underpants. Joe’s cock bobbed up, already hard and firm, glistening at the slit.
Carpe diem—David didn’t let himself think too hard about it, a sense of excitement and nerves settling over him as he reached over and licked his hand, then stroking Joe’s cock before he lowered his mouth over the head of his cock and took it into his mouth.
Joe made a sound like something had been punched out of him and his hands hovered over David’s shoulders and then settled there. The touch grounded David and he took Joe deeper.
David knew he was trying too much, tears beginning to prick at his eyes, his jaw aching, but he liked it, wanted more, wanted more of Joe.
“God, you’re—fuck—beautiful,” Joe said. When David looked up, Joe’s eyes were clenched closed and his head was tilted back, like he was in deep pain. He groaned and then gripped David’s shoulder hard. “I’m going to—”
David understood that directive and he hastily pulled back and stroked Joe until his body jerked forward, David’s hand moving through Joe’s orgasm until the last.
“God, David, you’re just—” Joe said and he was pulling David up and kissing him harshly, pushing him back against the tree and they necked there until David got hard again and they started all over.
The next day, David slept in late, waking slowly, finding himself smiling at the memory of last night. He could feel the bruises on his body, the tender spots where Joe had gripped him or he’d been pressed back against the tree, the rough bark scrapping. He wondered what Joe was doing today, if he was working in the main lodge or doing something else.
Without examining the impulse too much, David got out of bed and dressed. Everyone else had already spread across the resort, so there was no one there to ask questions or dig in on David sleeping late, letting David’s good mood stay. He grabbed a banana and apple from the fruit bowl arranged on a table near the front door and then headed out to try and find Joe.
David had dim ideas of following Joe around the lodge and making a nuisance of himself until Joe sent him away or finding out when he got off for the day, so David could meet up with him then.
An hour later, David hadn’t found Joe in any of the usual places in the lodge, so he found another staff member, who David vaguely remembered Joe referring to as Len.
“Hey, Joe around anywhere?”
Len gave David a long look. “Not anymore,” he said eventually, his tone cagey. David’s stomach sank, a strange cold terror filling it.
“What does that mean?” David asked.
Len shrugged. David waited him out. “He was sacked this morning,” Len said eventually.
“For what? What reason?” David asked, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “He’s already gone?”
“I don’t know—someone complained about him, I guess. I don’t really know anything more. Someone drove him to the train station this morning.”
David felt a numbness begin to fill his head, pushing him outside himself, as if he could look down and see himself having this conversation.
“Do you know where he was going? His address?”
Len shrugged, sympathetic but clearly in the negative. “No, I don’t. You might be able to ask around, but I don’t know who would have it.”
David wandered around in the woods for hours, coming up with half-thought out ideas before discarding them. He’d go to the train station—and what? Joe would be long gone. He’d write—where?
He could find one of the owners and ask them for it. They’d want to know why and it would certainly get back to his mother and step-father, but then, at least he could write to Joe.
And then what? Assuming he could even get an address for Joe, he had no idea if that’s where Joe was headed. Or if he’d even write back.
This can’t be the end, something inside of David wailed. It couldn’t be. The way that Joe had looked at David. The way that David’s body had been focused on Joe, as if Joe was the tuning fork directing the vibrations of David’s life.
What had David lost? He hadn’t even really known Joe that well. But that was a lie and telling it to himself felt less than paper thin.
Everything hurt—a gaping maw in his chest that was visceral. Agonizing. It was unfair. It couldn’t be the end.
But, inexplicably, it was.
Two Years Later
Toccoa and the United States Army had ground down David so much over his first two days there that he was starting to lose his mind. While David was in the middle of his one hundred and fifteenth push-up, his mind decided that this was the perfect time to hallucinate and conjure up Joe.
It was a blink and miss moment—a man who looked like Joe appearing in a group of men in their PT uniforms jogging as they headed over to Currahee.
It obviously couldn’t be him—and David logically knew that—but his heart jumped like he’d had a shock of electric current. Matheson was coming closer, so David looked back down at the ground and focused on appearing as if every particle of his being was awaiting the Army’s instruction.
When first platoon hit their 150th push-up, Matheson finally released them from his scrutiny for lunch, but not before laying out their afternoon, which would feature, to absolutely no one’s surprise, a run up Currahee before they did a scouting exercise.
David immediately headed for Luz. “Who just ran by?” he asked under his breath.
Luz glanced around. “Which who?”
David tried to keep his impatience to himself. “While we were doing push-ups, I could have sworn that I saw a group run by.”
“Oh yeah,” Luz said, idly dusting off his shorts—as if that could fix the damage of four hours of obstacle courses and PT. “That was second platoon. Also in Easy. We’re all under Sobel, so at least we’ll have some company in our very present misery. I heard that they’ll be one more platoon from the recruits arriving today.”
David sighed, already thinking about how much he hated Sobel. “That guy really manages to stand out as terrible, even in the Army.”
“Web, you haven’t heard?” Luz focused on David and laughed. “Everyone says that Sobel is the worst officer by far. We’ve been here for two days and we’ve had to do PT in the night both times. Did you see any other companies out there joining us?”
David had, a matter of fact, noticed that their experience seemed to be especially like torture, but had chalked that up to the shock of going through the paratrooper basic training.
“Yeah,” Luz said definitively. “That guy lives to torture us. You know, we’ve lost five men already.” David had noticed a few men missing between their original formation when they’d arrived and now, but hadn’t put it all together.
“Jesus,” David said.
“You said it, Web,” Luz said and then they were at the mess hall, ready to inhale their chow.
It couldn’t be Joe. David knew that. He knew that the likelihood of running into Joe in Camp Toccoa of all places, was so small as to be non-existent. Therefore David firmly put aside any thought of actually seeing Joe. But, David wouldn’t say that he was averse to seeing a guy who resembled Joe.
David had had some experience with other men since he’d met Joe those years ago, but David would have been lying to himself if he pretended that he hadn’t noticed that they’d all been lanky, dark-haired and a few years older than himself. It wasn’t like anything could happen in a camp full of thousands of other men, no privacy and very dire consequences if someone had caught David doing something with another man.
But, it cost nothing to look, and they’d see second platoon sooner rather than later, knowing Sobel. So David would just keep his eyes open.
He got his chance that evening—just after their evening run and exercises, they entered the mess hall and David stopped short in the door way—Dukeman running straight into David.
“Jeez, Web, get out of the way,” Dukeman said and shouldered David aside.
Right there, not even twenty feet away from David, was definitively Joe. He was sitting and eating some pseudo-pasta, chatting with a guy next to him, also dark-haired, but a little more solidly-built. His hair had been shorn to regulation-length, and he’d firmed up a bit in the past few years, but it was Joe.
Joe.
Joe.
Someone else pushed David from behind and he stumbled forward, catching himself and then continuing to move into the building. He followed the rest of his platoon into the line to get what passed for lunch, but it felt like the power had left his brain. All the electricity was gone. No one was home.
“Web, you ok?” Skinny asked. David hadn’t even been aware of getting food and sitting down, but he was right next to Skinny with a plate in front of him filled with barely edible product that purported to be pasta. David was so thrown, he couldn’t even find it in himself to work up the slightest outrage or objection as to what passed for food here.
“Yeah,” David said, forcing himself to get back on track. Joe was here. Here in this very room. Joe was at this camp.
David had to talk to him. Had he noticed David? Did he even remember David?
David was in agony, a million questions arising and immediately being trampled by a new set.
“Web? Web?” Skinny said, waving a hand in front of David. “You better get some water in you, you’re definitely not going to make it through our training exercise this afternoon like this.”
Blindly, David reached out for his glass and began drinking water as fast as he could to shut up Skinny.
“I’m fine, Skinny” David said, putting the glass down when he was done. “Hey, you know anyone in second platoon?”
Skinny shrugged. “Not really. You gonna eat or…?”
“Eat,” David said and started putting food in his mouth with an appetite he didn’t feel.
Joe. Joe was here.
Joe was at Camp Toccoa. It was undoubtably him. David had managed to engage one of the second platoon guys, a Penkala or something, in conversation while they stood in line at the mess hall the next morning. Penkala mentioned in passing a Joe Liebgott. That had to be him. David hadn’t even known his last name.
The trick was how to approach Joe. He obviously couldn’t do it while they were training—although that was when they’d have the most chance to interact with each other.
Second platoon joined first platoon the next morning for their morning exercises and PT. Joe didn’t look at David once—at least not when David was able to sneak looks. They were in formation, strict lines, under Sobel’s very strict gaze, for every aspect of their training. Even if David had thought it was a good idea—and it wasn’t—there was no opportunity to casually interact with Joe.
It would need to be outside of training. And there was a negative amount of leisure time. If they weren’t doing physical training like obstacle courses, running ‘till they puked and then running even more, then they were doing other exercises or training. Their days were filled with lessons on how to read maps and then being left in the middle of a forest and asked to make their way back to the camp. There was combat instruction, weapons training and communications training. Grappling, radios, guns. New information until David’s brain felt like it was about to completely melt into sludge. Not to mention jump training, which they’d all been informed had an abysmal pass rate.
The last thing that David wanted to do was approach Joe in a public place like the mess hall. But even in those spare moments from washing up to getting back to the barracks, Joe was always around other soldiers.
David had walked into the PX with Skinny to get a drink when he spotted Joe. David froze up until Luz dragged him along, towards the bar, but all thoughts of getting a drink were gone. Joe was in the middle of a card game with two other men, who looked like Toye and Malarkey, but David was never going to get a better opportunity than this.
“Give me a second,” David said to Luz and then took a deep breath, heading over to Joe.
“Excuse me,” David said, when he got close. It looked like they were playing poker. “Mind if I join in for the next round?”
Joe didn’t look up from where he was dealing out cards. “Sorry, we’re full up.”
David’s stomach sank. But he wasn’t going to let Joe push him off easily. “Hey, don’t I know you from somewhere?” David said, trying to sound surprised.
Joe looked up now—and it was a straight shot to David’s solar plexus. David’s heart stopped and a huge swarm of butterflies began beating in his stomach. Joe was looking at him. He was right there in the same room as David. David had known that Joe was here, had seen him around, but hadn’t really fully believed it until this moment. The look was so quintessentially Joe, it ground against David’s stomach and hurt.
Joe raised his eyebrows and looked at David. With a smarmy smile that both set off another round of fireworks in David’s veins and also boded poorly, Joe said, “Pal, I ain’t never seen you before in my life outside of this camp. Malark, you gonna ante up or what?”
All three men turned back to the game and David knew that he’d been dismissed. As he walked away he heard Joe make some remark, his voice too low for David to catch what it was, and the other two men laughed.
David knew without a doubt that they were laughing at some joke that Joe had made at David’s expense.
David lay in bed all night. His brain ran a million miles an hour—it was like he’d downed five cups of coffee before bed. He wanted to get up and pace. It figured that the one time that he wanted to be up and moving, he could do nothing but lay in his bed, replaying Joe’s face as he completely dismissed David. He replayed the moment he’d walked away, his brain coming up with crueler and crueler witticisms on each watching.
It was like getting to attend a play, front row, except that it was one of the worst humiliations of David’s life.
What had he even been thinking? That Joe would welcome him with open arms? Joe hadn’t even especially wanted David’s presence back in California. Why on earth would he want it now, here, surrounded by thousands of other men?
The rose-tinted glasses had been removed from David’s eyes and he could see the folly of his choices now. While David had been mooning over Joe like some calf-eyed farmer, Joe hadn’t even given David a second thought.
David held in a groan, low and embarrassed. What a fool he’d been. He was a grade A, Hoover Dam-sized idiot. He brought up his hands to his face, his face burning.
Somewhere in those pre-dawn hours, his self-recrimination began to wane in favor of the more pressing concern. What should David do now? It wasn’t like he would never see Joe again. They were in the same company. They would be training together, running exercises together and fighting a war together.
Fine. Joe wanted to pretend that they’d never met before. Then they had never met before. He just happened to bear a superficial resemblance to someone that David had met once.
David was here to train. He’d train, he’d do everything in his power to be ready to fight the war when it came for him. And as for Joe—he could go jump off a cliff.
When the 101st arrived in England, it felt like things were finally beginning to come to a head. The whole journey over, David had been alternatively anxious and elated. It was hard to believe that he’d had a full year of training and nothing but training. He had assumed that when he’d joined the paratroopers, that they’d go through some short period of training and then be out on the battlefield before Christmas.
Of course, now David intimately understood how inaccurate that timeline was. After he’d finished basic, there had been jump school, following by additional training and jumps in North Carolina.
When they’d received word of yet another move, David had assumed it would be another location in a long line of training that was beginning to feel redundant. Maybe they’d find somewhere else in the middle of nowhere to scout and jump out of planes on to.
But on that train, the train to New York, something different buzzed through the air. Hoobler made his way through the car and then dropped into the open seat next to David. “Web, you’ll never believe what Guarnere just told me.”
David put down his book, The Moon is Down, intrigued. “What? Does he know where we’re going?”
Hoobler nodded and then looked around the car. No one was paying that much attention to either one of them—playing cards, reading or sleeping. Even though there was no way that it could actually be confidential if Hoobler of all people knows it, David was very intrigued.
“We’re going to England,” Hoobler said. David sat up.
“England?” he repeated back, feeling something like elation sprint through his veins.
“England,” Hoobler said. “Jolly old England. Guarnere heard it from one of the guys in Charlie.”
“Wow,” David said, letting the moment sit. “Wow.”
“It’s really happening,” Hoobler said, his voice beginning to rise. A few of the men looked over at him and he immediately lowered it. “They’re going to send us to war.”
War. Something passed through David, and it felt almost like a premonition. It was bad. Everyone knew it was bad over there. The reports were heavily censored, but everyone had a brother or a best friend who had been fighting in North Africa and Italy. The casualty lists weren’t short.
And yet. David had been training for this for over a year. He felt ready or at least on the cusp of readiness.
He thought back to Joe. David would have liked to say that he hadn’t thought of Joe in anything other than a professional sense since Joe had so emphatically turned David away, but that would have been a lie. David’s heart had felt like there was something between them and it was taking a long time to convince it that that wasn’t the case.
But there had been no harm in thinking about Joe. Just thinking about him. Joe had made his position and thoughts clear, so there was absolutely no chance of anything happening between them, which made thinking about Joe a guilt-free experience rather than trying to summon up someone new to fantasize about.
He wondered what Joe was thinking about right now. Did he know that they were being sent to England and from there would start preparations for their jump into the war?
David could almost see it—one night, both of them a little tipsy, knowing that they were going to be shipped off to war in the morning, running into each other on their way back to the barracks. It would be dark, not much light, and Joe would lean on David for support.
“You alright?” David would ask.
Joe would start at the sound of David’s voice. “David?” he’d say.
“Sorry,” David would say and turn away.
“No, wait,” Joe would say. He’d hesitate on the verge of something. And then, with the growl of a man losing his last tie of restraint, he’d say “fuck it,” and would pull David in close.
“I hear that the British broads go crazy for Americans,” Hoobler said and David shifted, hoping that what he’d been thinking hadn’t been written on his face.
Being in England was almost like being free again. Of course, they still had all the other trappings of the military: terrible food, crowded beds in converted stables, early morning risings, classroom lessons and exercises. But curfew was a little more relaxed—drinks in town after evening meals weren’t uncommon. The doughnut dollies were there—fresh doughnuts and coffee, smiles on their faces.
It was the army, no two ways about it, but it wasn’t terrible.
It was also the calm before the storm. David knew that it was halcyon even as he experienced it. Hoob and Klink were good guys—guys that David had become close with—and they didn’t hesitate to drag him to every bar or party that they found.
They even got some of those coveted weekend passes and they visited London once or twice.
Temporary, David knew in the back of mind.
And then, the big one was announced. D-Day. The day that they’d jump into Europe. June 5.
The companies stood around for hours, their gear carefully checked and packed, waiting to board their planes. The night before, David had felt anxious, jumpy. He kept checking his watch and dreading and anticipating the wakeup that would go through the camp.
But now, here on the tarmac, waiting for the signal, David felt a sense of calmness overtake him.
Welsh, of course, was grim-faced, swearing every so often as he conferred with other officers. Something wasn’t going according to plan. That wasn’t unusual.
David closed his eyes. He thought about Joe. What if he struck up a conversation now? Would Joe talk to him then? Joe was ten feet away, chatting playfully with Toye. It was always torture to be this close to Joe, but this was excruciating. This could be the last time that they ever saw each other. David could die tonight. Joe could die tonight.
Someone loudly said, “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Hoob looked over at David and raised his eyebrows. He pantomimed asking a question. David shrugged.
About two minutes later, Meehan stood up on a block in the middle of the tarmac and gathered up Easy Company. There was the sound of heavy packs were moved, everyone shuffling forward to sit awkwardly so that everyone could see Meehan. Meehan didn’t waste time once everyone was there. “No jump tonight!” he yelled. Bad visibility.
David tried to push off the crushing sense of disappointment. All of the paratroopers served at the whim of the weather and to ignore that was to jump in peril of your death.
But still—the moment that David had been waiting for. There was a sense that he had been waiting all his life for this one jump into Europe. This one chance to finally prove himself. This chance to make a difference in the war.
The company split up in to their squads. Bull gathered up their squad. “Relax,” he said, “get some god damn food and sleep. God willing, we’ll be back here tomorrow, ready to finally do what we came here to do.”
The words sounded more confident that Bull could logically feel, but everyone nodded and followed Bull back to stow their gear and weapons.
David found himself back in the commissary in short order, a pint of beer in front of him, raucous chatter around him as everyone talked about the jump that could have been. David felt numb, removed from it all, until a drink plopped itself next to David, swiftly followed by a hand and then David looked up to find Joe pushing his way in between David and Klink.
“This seat taken?” Joe asked.
David shrugged, the odd numbness still blanketing his body.
Neither one of them said anything. It was funny—the first time that Joe had ever acknowledged David in public outside of any incidental interaction during training. And David couldn’t find anything to say to him.
Eventually Joe must have come to some sort of a decision because he downed the rest of his beer, looked at David, eyebrows raised. Whatever he saw must have satisfied him, because he nodded at David and then left. David could have pretended that he didn’t know what Joe wanted, but he wanted it too. He felt a sort of laissez-faire attitude descend over himself as he stood to follow in Joe’s footsteps. He should have waited five minutes, to hide the fact that he was going after Joe if anyone happened to be looking. But David, again, felt that curious lack of consideration. He didn’t want to wait five minutes, even though he should have, and no one else was looking at him. And even if they had been, everyone should have been thinking about how tomorrow they were going to be dropping into German territory to be shot at from all angles.
Death felt realer now than it had twenty-four hours ago even though they’d ostensibly been in the same exact position.
Outside, night was well underway—crisp cool air, bright stars, a crescent moon. David’s blood felt like it was on fire. He knew that he should have stayed back in the bar. He knew that this was pathetic of him—after Joe had completely ignored him and embarrassed him, here David was just panting after him, willing to let Joe lead him around like a dog on a leash.
And yet, David couldn’t have resisted following Joe any more than he could have told himself to stop breathing.
There was no indication where Joe had gone, but David didn’t let that stop him. He wouldn’t have headed back to the bunks, too many other men around. Joe wouldn’t be willing to risk that.
So, David went the opposite direction—heading out towards the open fields, the fields washed silver and white in the moonlight.
He’d been walking for a few minutes when he passed one of the hedges demarcating one farmers’ land from another’s and Joe stepped out from next to the hedge.
They were about the same height and yet David always felt like he was looking up at Joe. Something about Joe’s force of personality seemed to overwhelm David and now was no exception.
“I hear you go by Web now,” Joe said, an unlit cigarette playing in between his fingers.
“Not to you,” David said, trying to affect an air of nonchalance.
Joe looked at David for a long minute and then huffed out a laugh before putting the cigarette behind his ear. “Is that how it’s going to be, college boy?” he said.
“You tell me,” David said. “You’re the one who’s apparently setting the rules here. You tell me how it’s going to go, since apparently how I feel or what I want is of little interest to you.”
Joe rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure. You feel like heading out, you can leave anytime.”
David should have left. Any illusions that he had about Joe were gone. He certainly didn’t want David as a friend. He barely wanted David at all—he was clearly only here right now with David because David was something convenient.
David wanted to leave. He wanted, for one in his life, to feel like he had the upper hand with Joe.
“Fuck you,” David hissed.
“Yeah, fuck you too, pal,” Joe said. “What’s it going to be?”
David wanted to punch Joe in his stupid, punchable face. Instead he leaned in and yanked at Joe’s collar, pulling him in and kissing Joe for all he was worth.
There was no dry press of lips—Joe met David eagerly, his body betraying what his tone and voice had hidden. He grabbed at David’s uniform, fitting the two of them together so David could feel how desperately Joe wanted this, already thickening up underneath the material of his suit.
David didn’t delude himself. Joe didn’t want him—he didn’t want David. David was the most conveniently located man. David was unlikely to tell someone else about Joe’s proclivities with other men because he’d be telling on himself as well.
That was fine. David wanted a release as well. He’d been surrounded by men unable to risk much more than the occasional visit to a bar that he’d heard of from an acquaintance of an acquaintance when they’d been near a large city. But opportunities had been few and far between and David wasn’t going to pass up the chance to get his cock touched by someone other than himself for the first time in months.
“Please,” Joe said, panting into David’s mouth. Despite the chill in the air, David pulled off his jacket and lay the interior of the jacket onto the ground, to do his best to avoid an incriminating stain on his knees when he did return to the bunks. Settling himself, he unbuttoned Joe’s trousers and pulled down his underwear.
Joe’s cock bobbed towards David and David eagerly took Joe into his mouth. There was a familiar muskiness to Joe’s scent and it drove David wild. It would have been unfathomable to say that he’d missed this—this exact weight in his mouth, the desire to push himself and take Joe as deeply as he could, the smell of Joe and man and sweat—and yet David had missed it so deeply, that it felt like he’d gotten back some part of himself.
“God, fuck,” Joe said above David, his fist pressed against his mouth. “You’re so god-damn—so god-damn good. That mouth. God, how is your mouth so perfect?”
David looked up at Joe, beginning to feel wetness gathering in the corners of his eyes as he took Joe down as far as he could.
Joe swore again. “God, fuck, you’re—David,” he choked out.
For a few minutes, time seemed to flow both fast and slow, the moment splaying out as if the two of them had always been here in this position, even as David felt minute tremors through Joe’s body that indicated that he was going to come soon and felt something within him feel sad that the moment would soon be over.
Joe gave a warning when he was close and David weighed the options for a minute before keeping his mouth on Joe—better to clean up all evidence of their liaison.
Joe came with a cut-off cry, biting down on his arm, his body tight as a bowstring, emptying himself into David’s mouth. When he finished, David pulled out Joe’s cock and stood up. For a second, he felt awkward and uncomfortable, aroused beyond all reason in a field in the middle of the Army’s training grounds.
But then Joe kissed David, heedless of the taste of David’s mouth and mumbled, “Don’t worry, I’ll get you,” and then went down as well.
Neither one of them spoke much once they’d finished. It wasn’t like Joe had been all that romantic back in California, but there’s been something of camaraderie between them. Joe didn’t even look at David.
“I’ll see you around,” David said, carefully putting his jacket back on. He’d have to do some minor surgery on it to try and get as much as the grain stain out as he could. No reason to give anyone any reason to raise their eyebrows, even though they’d assume that David had been out here in the moon and starlight with someone of the more feminine persuasion.
Joe grunted at David and then waved a hand at him. “Wait a few minutes—try and be a little more subtle.”
And then he was gone.
That had been it. No good-bye kiss. No acknowledgment or thanks for what they’d both just done. David should have felt relieved. He knew how Joe felt—anything else from Joe would have given David hope that maybe Joe did care in some way for David.
Instead, he knew what Joe wanted. David was convenient in all ways.
Somehow David survived D-Day. There was a sense of putting everything aside on the plane over. David looked around in their stick and saw each man focused on some inward conversation. The calmness from the day before had stayed and even though David could feel that his heartbeat was elevated, his body in heightened anticipation, he felt calm as he stood up in line and hooked in. There was a brief moment where he knew that there was no return as he stood looking out over the dark night, tracer fire in all direction, but his body knew his business and he jumped.
He linked up with some of the men in Dog Company and eventually they made their way into Carentan. David saw Joe sitting with the other Easy men, shooting the shit, despite the fact that there was a raging battle five blocks over in the town. Joe looked over at David and for just one minute, one second even, his face softened and he smiled at David.
That was all that there was. But all of David’s vows to himself from a day ago broke apart in the face of that smile. He headed next to Joe and dropped his gear, looking up and letting the sun warm his face.
“You made it, huh?” Joe asked.
“Looks like it,” David said.
“Meehan hasn’t shown up,” Joe said. That got David’s attention.
“They think that Meehan is—?”
“No one knows, but Winters is in charge right now,” Joe said.
David let out a low whistle. He liked Winters.
“Good to see you,” Joe said, and then a touch lower, “A sight for sore eyes.”
David kept his eyes close, but couldn’t keep the smile from crossing his face.
Nothing happened between Joe and David after that. Not that David expected to start having relations with another solider in an active war zone. But there was a certain thawing to David’s mind. Joe didn’t seem friendly, per se, but that wasn’t his style. He was prickly and his humor lay in the ribbing that he gave his friends. But he was willing to take it as well, letting Guarnere and Perconte rib him right back.
It was fascinating seeing Joe in this different environment, where he let David hang around, or at least near him. For the first time since David had seen Joe at Toccoa, David felt like he could look at Joe. He could pay attention to him. And now David was seeing that Joe looked like he was at home in a way that he’d never been at the Hoberg’s. It wasn’t hard to see why.
Sometimes they sat next to each other when they grabbed their chow for a meal. When they got back to England, sometimes they’d be in the commissary at the same time and they’d have a friendly chat over a drink. Never alone. Always with Hoob or Klink there, or maybe Guarnere or Toye, or one of the other Easy guys. Never just the two of them.
Which was a good thing. Because occassionally Joe would look at David, a certain gleam in his eye, and David would want to kiss Joe so badly it hurt. David wondered—hoped—that Joe was thinking about kissing David too. But Joe never gave the signal that he had the night before D-Day.
So David let himself take solace in the brief press of Joe against David’s body as they sat next to each other. If this was all that David could have, then he would take it.
After David’s ignominious bullet to the butt in Holland, David was sent back to England in recuperate. Apparently bullet wounds, even to the butt, required significant time to heal. David occasionally heard from the other Easy men, but never from Joe. He tried writing a letter once, just basic niceties, but Joe never wrote back.
David had heard that Joe had been grazed in the neck in the same battle in Holland, but he’d been able to stay with the company. And that was really all that David knew until he was released from the army hospital and flown into France.
Hagenau was terrible. Bombed out, Easy down to half its size, easily, maybe more. A bunch of faces that David didn’t recognize. Replacements who were now more battle-hardy than he was.
And Joe. Joe looked terrible. And he looked at David like he didn’t he even see him anymore. Every gesture felt so artificial, like he’d settled a mask over his face and was pretending to be someone named Joseph Liebgott.
David tried catching Joe in what passed for their quarters, but Joe shook him off. Would barely give him the time of day except as a way to get information from him. So, when the opportunity came up to volunteer to be the translator, David took it. He needed some way to get back in. Not just with Joe, although that certainly was something that David was hoping for, but also back in to Easy. He needed some way to brave the distance.
After the patrol, after Jackson bled out, for the sake of some dick-measuring prisoner information grab, David found himself on the rickety top floor of their house. The light had burnt out or maybe broken, so only the gloomy mid-morning light straining through the one small window provided any illumination. It had probably served as an attic before the house had become riddled with mortar and bullets, but it was blessfully empty and David needed solitude.
Another patrol? Another fucking patrol. Useless, heartbreaking, pyrrhic.
Outside was a man dying slowly, painfully, for what?
David closed his eyes.
“I would have thought that you’d have enough of quiet back at the hospital,” Joe said, his voice and melodic from behind David, making him turn around from where he’d been staring out a small porthole of a window.
“It wasn’t very quiet at the hospital,” David said. “Doctors talking, nurses checking in on patients, people groaning, healthier soldiers swapping stories or playing games. I’m not sure you can get quiet in the army.”
“That’s probably true,” Joe said and he came and sat next to David.
Neither one of them said anything for a long time, the dull sound of mortars occasionally going off as their soundtrack.
“Are you angry that it took me so long to come back?” David asked.
David watched Joe want to deny it. Deny that he in any way cared about David deeply enough to be affected by his absence. Joe took a breath, ready to let out some tongue lashing and then he closed his mouth, sighing.
Joe shrugged. It was a yes. After seeing what they’d been going through. Hearing about Guarnere and Toye, who had lived, and Muck and Hoobler who hadn’t, David didn’t blame him.
David had been back for a day and it had felt like a lifetime. He had forgotten what it was like in the hospital—no, not forgotten, it had hidden in a recess in his brain. Outside of the theatre, it was impossible to hold it in your mind. How bleak it could feel. How numbering. How exhilarating. Some magic trick like a man with a tall hat conjuring a rabbit.
“I’m glad you’re back,” Joe said after a long minute. David gave Joe a sharp look. Joe gave David a half-smile, genuine. The most genuine look on Joe’s face since Holland.
Joe’s eyes roamed over David and he quirked an eyebrow at David. David felt his face warming but he didn’t look away and neither did Joe.
That decided David. He leaned in for a kiss, but Joe put a hand on his chest. “What are you doing?” David asked.
“What are you doing?” David said back, embarrassment adding fuel to his words. He knew he wasn’t imagining all the signs that Joe was giving. “I know that you want this. You can lie to yourself, but you can’t lie to me right now.”
“Jesus H. Christ. It’s not about what I want,” Joe said and then lowered his voice. “Someone has to save you from your goddamn self,” his voice a hissed whisper.
“And that someone is you?” David hissed, shame and anger bringing heat to his words. “Perhaps it’d be more believable if you’d ever indicated that you even tolerated my existence.”
“Web—” Joe took a deep breath and let out a sigh, like David was the one being unreasonable here. “David,” and something trilled in David’s heart even as he ruthlessly tried to squash it, “we’re surrounded by thousands of men, all of whom have an obligation to report us for any number of crimes that we’d be committing. And you’re so goddamn transparent. Anyone who knows you would take one look at your face and they’d know. You can’t hide your feelings for shit.”
“Hey,” David protested.
Joe fixed David with a look. “You saying that’s wrong?”
It wasn’t wrong, exactly, “I do have some discretion,” David said.
“Yeah? I’ve yet to see any indication of it,” Joe said. “You cracked and gave us all the CP info with the slightest bit of sweet talking.” His eyes were laughing and David felt another wave of shame washing over him.
“Hey,” David said, as if that were any type of credible defense. And Joe shook his head, but his eyes were fond. He swallowed and then his eyes dropped to David’s lips and a wave of something else crashed over him, leaving David’s throat dry.
They stood there, neither one of them speaking, just breathing in the dark. “Fuck,” Joe said softly. “Fuck!” Before David could take it in, Joe was kissing David. No missish press of their lips—Joe kissed harshly, like this was a battle he was fighting right here and now. David opened his mouth, eager, intoxicated, his whole body lighting up like he’d been zapped by a lightning bolt.
He could feel his blood pounding throughout his body, his cock filling, and Joe pressed closer so that they were right next to each other, Joe’s cock, thick and hard even through both of their layers.
After a minute of rubbing against each other, Joe pulled back. David held his breath, immediately going to the thought of someone approaching, but he didn’t hear anything. Another second and Joe seemed to come to some decision because he gave David a jaunty smile and said, “Web, you better keep quiet.”
He went down to his knees and David watched in no small amount of disbelief as Joe unzipped David’s pants and pulled out his cock before easing it into his mouth and beginning to suck.
It felt so good—unbelievably good. David immediately had to bring up his hand to his mouth to try and keep the multitude of sounds from erupting.
David had told himself that he must have been imagining it—he’d gotten jacked off and sucked since Joe and they’d been enjoyable, but there had been a special golden halo around the times that he’d fooled around with Joe before.
Logically, David’s memory and pedestal-lifted memory must have been because that was really his first everything—not some fumbled attempt in a dark room—but a deliberate act with someone that David had wanted. Who had looked at David and wanted him too, that was why it had felt so good at the time and in his memory.
It wasn’t Joe. It was the situation.
That’s what David had told himself.
But now David definitively knew: it was, in fact, better. Leagues better. It was like the looking up at the Eiffel Tower or the Empire State Building. It was bigger and better because it was Joe.
“Joe, I’m almost there,” David gritted out as quietly as he could. Joe just took him deeper and that was it—David came, his balls tightening, hips trying to thrust into Joe’s mouth, emptying into Joe’s throat like David hadn’t rubbed one out in years.
Joe stood up and David was on his knees on the floor, desperate for Joe’s cock. He palmed it through Joe’s pants and Joe hissed—David had half a mind to try and play with Joe, drive him wild, but even though David had already come, he still felt half-wild, like he needed to get Joe’s cock in his mouth or he would explode.
Joe didn’t say anything and so David went for it, biting at Joe’s thighs—and even though Joe hissed a “Be careful!”, he didn’t stop David, even though David’s stubble would almost certainly leave a mark.
When he finally took Joe into his mouth, Joe swore low, but strong and then brought his arm up to muffle himself. David hadn’t had much practice these few years or so, but it was like riding a bike, or so the saying went. He found himself remembering the rhythm of it, gripping Joe, using his other hand to cup gently at Joe’s balls.
Joe was murmuring things to David, quiet laudations and encouragement that pinged something in David. When Joe indicated he was about to come, David took him deeper, unwilling to let go sooner.
When it was over, they lay there on that dirty, decrepit floor, panting, their pants hastily pulled back up. But their arms overlapped. David felt like he was flying high, a perfect moment that he’d never thought to get.
“Forget the army, you should just do that,” David said, dreamily.
“I think that would make me a whore,” Joe said, but he was smiling at David, almost as if he was laughing at him. David found himself laughing too, his body languid and loose as it hadn’t been for months. Years.
There’s not a lot you can do in the middle of the theatre of war, romantically, with another man. David knew that, but in spite of what felt like little free time and no privacy, Joe and David managed to sneak time every so often.
And even when they couldn’t find a quiet barn to steal away to, Joe would sit near David or nod at him to come and join him in whatever basement or room served as a gathering spot in between missions.
Warm shoulders pressed against David’s. Joe’s hands brushing against David’s during a patrol. Sharing a beer in the moonlight, next to each other, knowing that they’d be exhausted in the morning.
They never talked about after the war, because it felt like the war would never end, even as all signs pointed closer and closer to something like a finish. It must finish. All things did.
But that was alright with David. He was happy to live in the now. The stolen moments with Joe.
After the mission to apprehend the camp officer, Joe stopped speaking to David.
It was complete and absolute, nothing unless it was necessary and in the line of official duties, which, at this point, were minimal.
It wasn’t just the anger of a fellow soldier. Joe was angry because he trusted David. David wanted to be angry back. What Joe had wanted to do was wrong, although David understood the impulse. But they were supposed to be better than their impulses. David wanted to rail at Joe, Joe was in the wrong!
But that didn’t make David feel any better about Joe’s cold shoulder. Yes, he’d rekindled his friendships with the original Toccoa men and made new friends among the replacements since he’d rejoined Easy. But none of them were Joe.
“Hey Joe,” David said, trying to nonchalantly approach Joe while he was eating dinner next to Perconte.
Joe’s eyes slid over David and then he went right back to eating.
“Woof,” Perconte said, commiserating. “You must have pissed him off good.”
Perconte didn’t know the half of it. David took his sandwich and went outside, looking up at the sunny, beautiful day and not seeing a thing.
And then Joe made his points—due to ship out to Le Havre along with the other men who’d made their points. David would never see him again.
All that careful not talking about the end of the war and it still had the audacity to show up anyways.
So David swallowed his pride and tracked Joe down. He found Joe down by the lake along with Alton and Skinny.
He watched for a while. Joe certainly saw him, but gave no acknowledgment of David’s presence. When Alton and Skinny headed back into the water, Joe stayed near the edge, so David took it as tacit permission.
“Can I talk with you?” David asked.
“You’re talking with me now,” Joe said.
David looked down at the brush on the ground, scuffing his shoe against some of the mossy rock. “I heard that you made your points and you’re heading out,” David said at last.
“Yeah, finally. Uncle Sam is sending me home,” Joe said, but there was a lack of intonation in his voice. David couldn’t bring himself to look up, so he wasn’t sure what he might have been able to read on Joe’s face.
“That’s good,” David said.
Neither of them said anything for a long time. And David felt himself scratching at where his stubble was starting to come in. “Can I write to you?” he asked.
Joe sighed, deep, and David finally looked up. “Are you sure you want to?”
“Yes,” David said. “I know that I was just someone convenient for you, but—”
Joe snorted, cutting David off. “You think you’re convenient,” Joe said, his eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re the most inconvenient person, Web. Certainly while we’ve been in Europe. But possibly the most inconvenient person in the history of the world. We’re surrounded by thousands of other men, all of whom would happily turn us in to be court-martialed and shot if they knew what we were doing.”
It should have poured a cold, bracing dose of reality on the situation, on David’s feelings, but instead, all it did was ignite something warm and happy inside David’s breast.
Joe took one look at David’s face and rolled his eyes. “Christ,” he said. “Come on.” He gathered up his clothes and hollered a goodbye to Alton and Skinny. He hastily dressed, not bothering to put his clothes to rights, and was a rumpled mess as they made their way back to billets.
There were a few men milling about, but no one gave them any mind as they made their way to Joe’s room. Joe sat on one end of the bed and David sat on the other. Joe ran his hand through his hair a few times until it stuck up, like he’d had a big shock.
“You really want to write to me?” he asked.
David nodded. “Maybe one day visit you.”
Joe leaned back on the bed and covered his face with his hands. “Yes,” he said eventually, muffled, “I guess that’s ok.”
He sat up and rooted around in one of the drawers until he found a pen and paper and, painstakingly, wrote out an address, which he gave to David.
Two days later, Joe was gone.
When David was discharged, finally free to go home, his family just about threw him a ticker-tape parade on his return. His mother was crying and his sisters were crying and Harry wasn’t crying, but he was doing something close to it. Even Archie looked pleased to see him.
There was dinner and drinks and so many hugs that eventually David took refuge in the quiet of his room. His army duffel had already been unpacked, all clothing items removed to be laundered, and the rest laid out on David’s desk. Next to David’s books that had survived the Atlantic voyage was a stack of letters addressed to David. His recent mail.
He idly picked it up and began rifling through it. One envelope caught his eye, postmarked from California.
No. It couldn’t be.
But David was opening it up carefully, making sure to preserve the return address.
David, the letter began, handwriting cramped. I made it back to California, safe and sound. Hope you did the same in New York. I snuck your address off Martin, hope that was alright. Not sure what your plans are and you’ve probably got a big fancy college like Harvard to return to, but if you ever find yourself in California, look me up. Consider this an official invitation. I wouldn’t say no to a letter as well.
Joe
David sat down, unable to keep the smile off his face, and began hunting for some stationery and a pen to write back.