Finding You, Finding Me Read online

  They kept quiet about their…whatever it was they were doing.

  Will didn’t quite know himself. He’d been antsy in that café, back in France, and he hadn’t slept as Henry had. Instead, he’d stayed awake, watching Henry, trying to sort through everything that had happened. In all his wildest dreams, the last thing he’d imagined happening when he jumped on D-Day was getting bonked on the head and forgetting everything and everyone. And then, hitting on his secret crush, the man he swore he’d avoid throughout the entire war. Corporal Iverson…Henry. He’d gone and put the moves on him in his addled, forgetful state.

  He hadn’t even considered the possibility of blowing his memories like that. Apparently, none of the other docs had either. No less than three Army doctors, all captains or above, had debriefed him. He thought at first they would send him home, and he stoutly refused to be reassigned. He told the docs that, in no uncertain terms.

  He stayed, thankfully, and he was still a paratrooper in the same company. Still one platoon away from Henry.

  When Henry had woken in that café back in France, he’d smiled, fussy with sleep, and pulled Will to him. They’d kissed, long and slow, and Henry had tucked him against his body and fallen back into a light slumber. The sounds of rumbling diesel engines and the shouts of the men readying into position shot them both to their feet, and they ran to their platoons without a word spoken between them.

  Then Carentan, and the long fight through the streets. Separated from the rest of the company, from the rest of his platoon, even, Will had fought with his squad down one side of the village, house by house, garden by garden. He’d taken up squad leader duties when his squad leader had gone down in the fighting, leading his men through each cobbled street, each crowded house. He’d forced himself to put Henry out of his mind. Henry was strong, stronger than Will. He’d be fine.

  When Second Platoon got back to their command post, Henry had been waiting for him—all the while trying not to look like he’d been waiting—slouching against a ragged fencepost and smoking on the dregs of a cigarette. He’d smiled, though, when he saw Will.

  There hadn’t been time for anything, nor any privacy, right then. Henry had pitched in at the aid station while Will got to work with his platoon, cleaning, sorting, and counting equipment. He’d woken in the middle of the night and crept off to search for Henry, and when he’d found him, they’d finally had a real kiss, their first real kiss without sleep or addled brains or confusion in their way. Hidden behind the field hospital and against a garden shed, they’d fumbled through their first attempts to be together. It had been short, painfully short, for both of them, but still good. They had to laugh at themselves after, though. They hadn’t thought to bring anything to clean up with, and more than dirt and blood stained their trousers after that night. Hopefully, their platoon mates wouldn’t look too closely.

  Thirty days of skirmishes and holding Carentan, and then they were all airlifted back to England. Exhausted happiness floated through the ranks, along with an unease. When would they return? When would they continue the fight? The war was supposed to be over by Christmas, everyone said. They wanted to be a part of ending the war.

  England brought liberty, and the chance to slip out alone together. Henry had evaded, though, refusing to leave their camp on the base. He pushed Will away, telling him to go out with the guys. If he didn’t, it would look suspicious, he said. They were together—supposedly, in as much as they managed to kiss and fondle and jerk each other off in hiding in France when they could—but they couldn’t be seen. Couldn’t be found.

  Will had wanted, though, to spend liberty with Henry. To slip off to the coast, or even just one village over. Or to take the train into London or down to Brighton. Take the time to be together. Henry wouldn’t hear it, not that time.

  But another liberty was coming. They all could feel it, and everyone tried to not be the fuckup who ruined liberty for everyone. Boots were polished, lockers were kept cleaned. Rifles were in perfect shape. They could almost taste the liberty that was on the way.

  And this time, Will wanted to spend it with Henry. He wanted to do more with him. Spend more time together. They occasionally ate in the company hut instead of as platoons, and he wanted to sit with Henry, chat with him. Even just seeing his face made Will’s day better.

  He was a lovesick idiot, he knew, but since they could die in the next battle, he didn’t much care. It was Henry who was preoccupied with the guys, with keeping everything secret. Will had decided he didn’t care so much about that, not anymore. Not compared to spending time with Henry.

  Will bit his lip, huffing on the rise in the hill as they continued to run. He would do something about that.

  * * * * *

  When they returned from their run, First Platoon was already in the showers. The more the merrier, and Second Platoon barged in, loud and obnoxious and pushing into the overhead spigots. Henry, alone in the corner, looked up, eyes flashing, and caught sight of Will.

  Smirking, Will headed for him, ignoring the hard glare Henry sent his way. No one, but no one, shared a spigot with Henry. Ever.

  Not caring, Will stopped in front of Henry, letting the water sluice down his head and face. He grinned, spitting a squirt of water toward Henry.

  Glaring, Henry’s eyes flashed to the rest of the men, all clamoring and jawing with each other as Second Platoon hustled First Platoon out of the showers. A shoving match was happening in the middle of the room, friendly and full of soap, and only a few eyes were casually watching Henry and Will. “What are you doing?” Henry hissed.

  “Showering.” Will took the soap from Henry’s hand and rubbed it down his body. “All the others were taken.” He let his smile play over his lips. “Besides, I like this faucet best.”

  Henry’s glare didn’t lessen. “You’re being dangerous,” he growled. He rinsed his arms, not looking at Will.

  “Can I get your back?” Will held out his hand, offering.

  Henry turned, stiff as a board, and let Will rub the soap down his back. No one ever offered to help him. He was always alone. His eyes closed as Will’s touch deepened, turning into an almost-massage, with long, deep strokes down his back.

  Will stepped back. “Do me?” He held the soap out as he turned his back to Henry. Mute, Henry took the soap and quickly washed Will down. He wasn’t as smooth or as caring as Will had been, and he finished in seconds. Moving away, Henry rinsed himself without looking at Will and then slipped out of the showers with his towel wrapped around his waist.

  “You turning soft on us, Rollins?” Phillips grinned from his showerhead as he scrubbed his hair. “Showering with the queer?”

  Will glared at Phillips as Giordano barked from his showerhead. He was the last of First Platoon left in the showers. “Hey, fucker. Shut the fuck up about Doc.”

  Phillips whirled on Giordano. “You too?”

  “He’s our queer, fuck nuts,” Giordano snapped. “You don’t got a right to fuck with him.”

  Laughing, Phillips ducked his head under the spigot. “Whatever,” he shrugged. He winked at Will as Will slipped by and whistled after him when Will walked out of the showers.

  * * * * *

  He probably shouldn’t have pushed his luck, especially not after how bristled and piqued Henry was in the showers. But since they were eating chow in the company hut that evening, Will squared his shoulders and headed to Henry’s table. Giordano was sitting at the corner, talking a mile a minute to the privates in front of him while Henry sat apart, picking at his plate of army spaghetti.

  Will slipped in across from Henry, settling his tray down without looking at him. He could feel the blaze of Henry’s glare, though, and heard the hiss of his inhale. Henry moved, grabbing the edges of his tray, and he was halfway out of his seat when Giordano spoke.

  “Yo, Doc!” Giordano spoke around his spaghetti, waving a roll. “Where you going?”

  Henry hesitated, his eyes flashing between Will and Giordano.

>   Giordano waved his roll, motioning for Henry to sit. “Sit down! Sit down!”

  Will peered up at Henry through his eyelashes, quietly shoveling spaghetti into his mouth. Henry’s lips thinned to a hard line, but he sat, slamming his tray down in front of Will.

  Giordano slid down the bench, next to Will. He was still chatting with the privates, but without missing a beat, he turned to Will and Henry and started up a new conversation. “Hey, Rollins, what are you up to? You normally eat with your other Second Platoon pukes. You wanna get some of the good stuff in First Platoon?”

  Will shoved Giordano. “Tired of looking at their faces.” He grinned.

  “Yeah, I hear you there,” Giordano said around a mouthful of bread. “I’m tired o’ looking at all o’ these assholes.” He chewed in silence for a moment. Henry was still glaring holes in the tabletop. “So,” Giordano started again. “Hanging with the doc?”

  Across the table, Will saw Henry freeze, every motion in his body going eerily still. Will cleared his throat, trying not to look at Henry, though he was dying to catch his gaze. “Yeah, he saved my life and all. He’s a good guy.” His voice was too thin, strained.

  Giordano barked out a hard laugh. “That’s right!” he cackled. “You scrambled your brains up on that last jump. Surprised they let you stay. If you jump again, ya might forget even more.”

  Will grinned. At first, he’d been worried the guys would be angry, thinking he’d faked a head injury to avoid combat. But after Carentan, any thoughts of him avoiding combat faded. “Not much in there to lose.”

  “Ha!” Giordano chewed on the last of his roll and then snagged Henry’s. “Hey, next time we get the cards out you should join us, Rollins.” He punched Will on the shoulder and clambered to his feet. Giordano nodded once to Henry. “Doc.”

  Henry nodded back but said nothing. His eyes briefly met Giordano’s, but dropped back down to his tray. He fiddled with the edges, pressing on the bent metal as his lips pursed and his eyes closed.

  “You okay?” Will asked quietly.

  Swallowing, Henry shook his head. “I’m fine,” he grunted. “You should go get ready. They’re going to call for liberty soon. Giordano will invite you out with the guys.” He looked up, his face pinched and taut, his eyes dark. “You have friends here.”

  Will opened his mouth, but before he could speak, the company commander barged into the chow hut, and everyone jumped to their feet. The company commander called for liberty, and then there were cheers and hoots and hollers drowning out everything else. Excited chatter took over, liberty plans long dreamt of suddenly finalized for the long weekend.

  True to prediction, Giordano appeared at Will’s elbow. “Hey, Rollins, come on out with us. We’re going to hit the town, maybe even take the train down the coast.” The platoon sergeant was chewing on his toothpick and rocking on his heels, a relaxed happiness radiating from his body.

  Will stole a quick glance toward Henry and then back to Giordano. “I’m going to stay behind tonight,” he finally said. “I think I twisted something on that run—”

  “Oh, that what you’re talking to Doc about?”

  Will ignored Giordano’s interruption. “—and I’m just going to take it easy for now.” He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His excuse was lame. Even he thought so.

  And especially to Henry, if the roll of his eyes was anything to go by.

  “Well, hope your ankle feels better. Doc will fix you up. We’ll go have fun without ya. Later!” Giordano waved and was already moving off, shouting across the hall at another sergeant, arguing about the pubs they were going to hit up.

  Taking a risk, Will looked back at Henry. Henry was staring at him, one eyebrow raised. His dour expression called Will all kinds of idiot, all kinds of stupid. Still, Will smiled. “Don’t tell me you’re actually going out on liberty this time.”

  “I should, since you’re determined to be an idiot,” Henry growled.

  “Is it wrong to want to spend some time with you?” Will’s voice dropped to a whisper as he looked down. He didn’t want to see Henry’s eye roll.

  Instead of an eye roll, Will heard Henry’s soft sigh. “Will…”

  Will swallowed. Henry didn’t often call him by his name. It was always “Rollins”, or worse, “Private.”

  “I don’t want you to get slammed like I’ve been slammed,” Henry finally said. “Don’t you get that? It's awful, being known as the queer. I don’t want you to have to go through that.”

  “You’re wrong.” Will shook his head and met Henry’s gaze. “Giordano defended you, you know. In the showers after you left.” Henry frowned. “Phillips was making some noise, and Giordano said Phillips couldn’t talk about you. That you were First Platoon’s.” Will left out the bits about calling Henry a queer.

  “Phillips was asking why you were with me, wasn’t he?” Henry pushed himself to his feet, grabbing his tray.

  Will followed. “So what if he was? I can hang with whoever I want to.”

  Henry shook his head. “And who got invited to the card game? Who got invited out to liberty? You keep this up, and you’re going to be as alone as I am here.” Turning, Henry headed for the kitchen to dump his tray.

  “No, I won’t.” Will trailed after Henry. Most of the chow hut had emptied, soldiers eagerly racing for their liberty. “I’ll be with you. And that’s worth it.”

  Finally, Henry slowed and glanced sidelong at Will. A tiny smile threatened to break free from his tight, grim expression. Will held his gaze, smiling, until Henry’s eyes warmed. “You’re an idiot,” Henry whispered. His voice was fond, though, and Will grinned wildly at Henry.

  Turning, they both headed out of the chow hut and down the wooden steps to the dirt pathways crisscrossing the camp. Shouts from the barrack huts echoed as soldiers clamored to get ready. Henry smirked and then squinted at the setting sun. “Why don’t you swing by my hut in about three hours? Everyone should be gone by then. We’ll have the place to ourselves.”

  Smiling, Will nodded. Henry snorted and shook his head and then headed off.

  When he reached the crossing separating the chow huts from the barracks huts, Henry glanced back. Will was still there, watching him with a wide smile. Finally, Henry seemed to manage a grin back at Will, and for a moment, Will almost couldn't breathe. The sunlight and Henry's smile mixed together, creating a perfect slice of heaven in the middle of their ragged camp.

  * * * * *

  At twenty hundred, the camp was mostly empty. The paratroopers had fled in their race for liberty, hitting the surrounding towns in desperate groups of revelers. Instead of the constant hum of boots, bluster, and bravado, the camp was quiet, almost eerily so.

  Whistling a tuneless drawl, Will strolled down the wooden planks that served as their walkway between the barracks huts in the division’s sleeping area. He’d taken a long walk, trying to both evade anyone who might ask him to join them for a night on the town and to relax and clear his head before meeting up with Henry. He passed by the last of the former company’s barracks huts and headed into his own. First Platoon’s hut—Henry’s hut—was only a few feet ahead.

  The door to Henry’s hut swung open, and Henry himself slouched against the doorframe. He crossed his arms over his T-shirt covered chest and smirked. “Should have known that was you making that racket.”

  Will grinned and finally stopped whistling. He jogged to the base of the hut’s stairs but hesitated as he grabbed the railing. “You alone?”

  Henry met his gaze. He nodded, slowly. “They said something about going a few towns over. Should be gone for hours. Maybe even the whole night.” Liberty extended for the weekend. Some paratroopers wouldn’t straggle back in until the last few seconds on Sunday evening.

  Will started up the steps, one slow footfall at a time until he was standing right in front of Henry, right in his personal space. Almost touching. Henry was still smirking at him, but his eyes were traveling over Will’s body, as though tr
ying to take everything in.

  “We have the place to ourselves,” Will murmured. He leaned forward, quickly capturing Henry’s lips in a kiss.

  Henry drew back, glaring at Will as he turned and disappeared into his barracks hut. Will followed him in, and as soon as he crossed the doorway, Henry was on him. Their lips met in a heated blaze, and their hands were everywhere, stroking, grabbing, tearing belts from pants and pulling shirts over heads. Will was trying to undo Henry’s belt at the same time he was trying to cup his face for a kiss, and he failed at both. Henry laughed into their kiss and took over, undoing first Will’s uniform pants, then his own. He stripped Will of his uniform jacket and then his T-shirt, sending it sailing behind them both to join Henry’s discarded shirt.

  Chest to chest, they kissed again, moaning at the expanse of warm skin caressing each other. They’d only ever been able to fumble through uniforms and in dark spaces before. They hadn’t been able to truly feel, truly explore each other’s bodies. Still, this time wasn't perfect; any moment, their comrades could come back, and they were only counting on the creaking planks of the walkways and the troopers' complete inability to stay silent to alert them. It was what they had, though, and Goddamn, but Will was taking it with both hands.

  Slow wasn’t on either of their minds. Henry guided Will back, pushing and prodding him toward Henry’s bunk. When they arrived, he shoved hard, sending Will stumbling back against the bed frame and crashing down to the mattress. The springs creaked, straining under the load. Will bounced as he reached for Henry and tugged him down. Henry folded himself down on top of Will, crawling up his body, and covered him as he captured his mouth in another searing kiss.

  Hips aligned, they started to grind, thrusting and bucking into each other. Hard cocks drove together, rubbing through their uniform pants. Henry cursed and kicked at his boots, trying to peel them from his feet. Will pushed him up, reaching around Henry’s body, and quickly stripped them both of their boots. As he was up, he captured Henry’s nipple in his mouth, twirling his tongue around the nub and biting down.