Chapter Text
The trucks rattled over hard-packed desert as the SAS convoy rolled toward the new temporary base. A stopover — nothing more — before they shipped out to Italy. Paddy Mayne sat in the passenger seat of the lead truck, jaw tight, the new lieutenant colonel insignia on his shoulder looking as irritated as he felt.
Eoin watched him from the back bench, arms crossed, boots tapping restlessly. His own new rank — Captain — still felt strange on his sleeve. Too clean. Too proper. Paddy hated his promotion; Eoin only vaguely tolerated his.
As they pulled into the base, the bustle of activity immediately hit them. Army units, supply crews, and—
Eoin froze.
RAF uniforms. Too many of them.
His stomach dropped.
Oh no. No, no, no.
Paddy hopped down from the truck, stretching. “Right, you lot, gather your—”
“Paddy.” Eoin was suddenly at his elbow, voice wound tight. “Can I— can I go ahead?”
Paddy blinked at him. “Go ahead where? We just got here.”
“I mean—” Eoin rubbed the back of his neck, already pale. “Just… ahead. Away. Somewhere.”
Paddy stared. “Why the hell would you want that?”
Eoin swallowed hard and jerked his chin toward the RAF section of the base. “Because my brother’s here.”
Paddy swore under his breath. Then paused. Then barked a laugh.
“Oh, come on, shur— Ambrose? He’s not the worst lot of your brothers.”
“He is,” Eoin insisted, mortified. “He absolutely is.”
“Worse than that cousin of yours who tried to enlist his bloody sheep?” Paddy snorted.
“Yes! Worse!”
“Christ.” Paddy clapped him on the back. “Well it’s only temporary. Keep your head down, maybe he won’t—”
A shout cut through the air.
“EOIN!”
The SAS men all turned.
A stocky RAF officer with sandy hair and the unmistakable grin of someone both delighted and about to cause trouble sprinted toward them at full speed.
Eoin had just enough time to mutter, “Oh God no—”
Then Ambrose tackled him.
Fully. Bodily.
Arms wrapped like a vice, knocking Eoin flat into the sand.
The entire SAS squad stared — some reaching for weapons, others too stunned to move.
Ambrose ruffled Eoin’s hair violently. “YOU’RE ALIVE! You’re actually alive, Mam’s going to—”
“AMBROSE GET OFF ME!” Eoin shrieked, kicking uselessly.
Paddy pinched the bridge of his nose, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
“Not the worst of your brothers, my arse.”
“SHUT UP, PADDY!”
But Paddy only grinned wider — because seeing Eoin alive and pinned under a wildly affectionate RAF officer was somehow the best thing he’d seen in weeks.
And Eoin, red-faced and flustered, met Paddy’s eyes with a glare that did nothing to hide the embarrassed smile tugging his lips.