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Eugene first hears about it from Spina while they’re huddled together in a frozen foxhole.
It’s a rare moment of reprieve from the Germans’ merciless shelling, and the latter’s been taking full advantage of it by unloading every crumb of Easy Company gossip on to him like it’s breaking news. Eugene nods along where appropriate, murmuring replies here and there as his fingers busy themselves by tidying up a roll of bandages he managed to scrounge up a few hours ago, Spina’s spiel largely going in one ear and out the other.
“And get this - he said no, if you can believe that!”
“Mm-hmm, sounds like him.”
“Nah, Gene, you’re not getting it. This was a goddess we’re talking about here. If a girl like that even gave a sorry Omega like me a second glance, I’d be over the moon!”
“Yeah, but he’s married, ain’t he?”
Spina snorts so loudly that Eugene is almost afraid it’ll trigger the next wave of shelling, “Dammit, Gene, you just might be as bad as Babe, after all.”
Try as he might, he can’t help the way his ears perk up (just a little) at the mention of the redhead. He hopes Spina doesn’t notice the twitch in his fingers.
“What’s Heffron got to do with this?”
Thankfully, Spina seems to have taken this as a cue to go down yet another verbal rabbit hole.
“He’s a sorry lovesick fool, that’s what.”
Eugene feels a stone drop in his belly.
“...What?”
Spina sighs, “You ever see him with that old courting bracelet of his?”
Eugene shakes his head, brows furrowing on their own. Courting bracelets are age-old traditions, gifted from Alphas to their chosen Omegas. They’re the perfect centrepiece in every romance novel, whether classic or modern, though with all that’s happened in the war it seems like they’ve also become a favourite object of ridicule among cynical soldiers who’ve seen too much to believe in fairytale endings anymore.
Eugene doesn’t care about whether courting bracelets are revered or mocked, of course. It’s always been made clear to him that the matter of courting bracelets is strictly reserved for typical Alphas and their Omega brides. Rare male Omegas, such as Spina and himself, aren’t part of the conversation, though from the sound of things Spina sure as hell isn’t letting that stop him from getting up in other people’s business.
“Well, he’s had it with him since he first joined Easy. Carries it everywhere, even now in this icy hellhole,” Spina explains.
“...I didn’t even know he was courting someone.”
The other Omega lurches forward, shaking Eugene by the shoulders, “That’s the thing! He isn’t. Apparently that courting bracelet’s been passed down his family for generations, and he inherited it when he turned sixteen. Said it’s for when he meets his soulmate, or whatever, and he’s been mooning over this idea of a person, instead of going out to find the real deal.”
Eugene doesn’t even realise he’s been crushing the precious bandages until his fingers finally loosen their hold. He’s not going to think about the wave of relief that just swept over him.
(He’s losing it. They all are, but now he knows he is for sure.)
Instead of dwelling on his personal spiral into madness, Eugene replies, “That don’t sound like him. Heard he dances with any Omega he sees when he visits the dance halls.” He hopes he does a good enough job of keeping the slight bitterness he feels from seeping into his tone.
Spina rolls his eyes, “Sure, the guy dances, but that’s all he ever does. Bill and I once saw a real looker try to get him out the hall early, and you wouldn’t believe her face when he refused. Ain’t the one, he said, whatever that means. Ridiculous, huh?”
Eugene hums; it’s the usual response he gives when he has nothing more to say. He goes back to straightening out the bandages, and Spina soon finds something else to chatter about.
~*peareedot*~
Days later, when Bastogne is left in ruins and Eugene’s caught between bone-deep fatigue and overwhelming restlessness, he finds himself dropping into Heffron’s foxhole, almost on instinct.
This close, he catches a hint of Heffron’s scent, dulled by the time spent in the theatre, but no less sweet, like summer berries. He thinks if they were anywhere but here, away from war, death, and destruction, he’d like to take his time savouring it.
When he finds out that Heffron’s wounded, and by his doing no less, guilt and worry cloud his mind, and he almost misses the slight satisfaction that he feels at having left a mark on the other. This possessiveness, no matter how small, is far beyond what he is prepared to deal with, and so he distracts himself by mending the hurt he caused. It’s not right, after all, for someone like him, defective both as a man and an Omega, to stake a claim over anyone, let alone Edward Heffron.
Ripping Renee’s blue scarf in two and gently wrapping one half around Heffron’s wounded hand, Eugene spots a slight glimmer down the other man’s left sleeve.
He’s never been one to pry, so he doesn’t ask about it.
Besides, he gets the sense he already knows what it is.
~*peareedot*~
They’re in a church in Rachamps, finally warm and no longer looking over their shoulders for the enemy, if only for a little while.
Eugene and Spina have taken one of the pews for themselves, taking stock of their medical supplies and repacking everything in preparation for when Easy’s eventually sent out again.
“Heya, fellas,” chimes a voice, and Eugene prays no one notices the stiffening of his shoulders.
“Ew, Babe, get outta here - it’s Omegas only,” Spina jokes, already scooting over to give Heffron some room on his side of the bench.
“Oh yeah? Then how come I don’t see Liebgott around 'ere?” Heffron takes his seat, and Eugene inadvertently counts to three in his head before letting his gaze move to the newcomer.
“You wanna say that louder? Should have known you had a deathwish,” Spina clicks his tongue, already resuming his packing like nothing’s happened. (Because nothing has, Eugene reminds himself.)
Eugene gives Heffron a small smile and nods his head in greeting. The beam he gets in return almost ejects his heart from his chest, but he thinks he manages to hold it in just about.
“Need anything, Heffron?” Eugene asks, hoping his voice comes out steady enough.
“Nah, just came over to see if you two needed me for anythin',” Heffron replies, before wrinkling his nose and adding, “And quit callin' me that.”
The corners of Eugene’s mouth twitch, but their conversation reaches a lull. It doesn’t take an army to pack a couple of bags, and Eugene’s never been good at thinking up conversation topics on the fly. They fall into a silence, and as embarrassing as it is, Eugene hopes Spina will take the reins.
Thankfully, Spina seemingly reads his mind and says, “You know what? I do need you for something, Babe.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, Babe, I’m in need of some shuteye. But if I go off right now, poor Gene’ll be left with all this work on his own.”
Spina tosses him a wink, and Eugene feels like he’s giving him a message that he can’t comprehend. (Or won’t.)
Heffron laughs, “We can’t have that, can we, Gene?”
Gene. It’s a name he’s been called all his life, but Heffron saying it makes it sound much sweeter than it usually does.
“Think you could trade jobs with me for a couple hours, Babe?” Spina asks, already getting up from the bench.
“Yeah sure, go get some rest.”
“You’re a good guy, Babe.” And Spina’s gone, leaving Eugene alone with a large pile of supplies and Heffron, who’s looking at him with those giant eyes of his.
“Well, Doc, I’m all yours. Do with me what you will,” Heffron chuckles, shifting to take up the space Spina left. It brings him closer to Eugene than he has been since they shared a foxhole for an afternoon, the thought of which brings to mind images of a blue cloth wrapped tenderly around Heffron’s hand, and bashful smiles that Eugene can barely begin to decipher. Heffron’s sweet scent is back, still weakened by everything they’ve been put through, but as tempting as ever.
Eugene feels his face heat, and promptly decides that hurling himself into the sun may be a good idea after all.
He coughs, “Spina and I were splitting the extra supplies that got delivered. Think you could help put his pile into his bag?”
“Well, that sure sounds like super secret medic know-how to me, but I’ll give it a go,” Heffron replies, and Eugene’s smile widens on its own.
They work in a comfortable silence, Eugene allowing himself to give his companion a few quick glances whenever he thinks the other won’t notice. Heffron’s one of the many Alphas in Easy Company, but his wide-eyed gaze and easy smiles have always given him a much softer appearance despite his fiery personality and boisterous attitude.
When Heffron reaches to grab a box of syrettes left in the pew behind theirs, he hits his arm against the back of their bench, cursing in pain.
“Forgot to tell ya - I hit my arm real hard against the truck when we were gettin' off earlier. Luz laughed so hard I thought he’d fall right off himself.”
“Is it bad?” Eugene asks, taking the opportunity to look directly at Heffron.
“Nah, just a bruise.”
“Show me,” Eugene insists, already reaching towards the other’s arm.
Heffron shrugs, but pulls his left sleeve back anyway. Sure enough, a large bruise purples the skin there, but it’s nothing serious. What really catches Eugene’s attention, however, is the delicate pearl bracelet wrapped around the Alpha’s wrist.
He tries not to stare, but Heffron catches him all the same.
“I’m guessin’ Spina’s told you all about this,” Heffron says, turning his wrist to show Eugene the small silver pendant in the middle of the string of pearls. The pendant is flat and round, with a simple ‘H’ engraved in the middle.
“Mm.”
“My ma gave it to me when I turned sixteen - said my dad courted her with it, so I should only give it to someone I’m really sure about.”
Eugene nods, though he’s not sure what exactly he’s agreeing with.
“My brothers each got courting bracelets too - all Alphas, y’see. But none of ‘em got one that belonged to Ma. A good thing too, ‘cause my second brother almost lost his three times before and Ma just about went up the wall the third time.”
Heffron’s gaze is fixed on the bracelet, smile softer than Eugene’s ever seen it before.
“The other guys don’t get it, of course. Most of ‘em, anyway. If it ain’t the fact about me bringing it on the road with us, it’s ‘cause they think it’s stupid of me to think I’d ever find who I’m looking for on the line. Should’ve given it to a girl in Aldbourne, or even Eindhoven at the latest, they tell me, ain’t no one to court after that. Ha! I’ll show ‘em.”
Eugene hums. He can’t say that he understands Heffron’s line of thinking either, can’t comprehend the other’s confidence that what he’s set on will really come to fruition, but he never had to anyway. It’s not for me to understand, he thinks, willing himself to resist the hope that threatens to take shape in a small crevice at the back of his mind.
“It’s beautiful, Heffron,” he says, and whether he’s talking about the courting bracelet around the other’s wrist, or the steadfast optimism in the Alpha’s heart, he’s not sure.
Heffron looks up, and their eyes lock.
“Sure is, huh?” Heffron whispers, like it’s a secret just between the two of them.
~*peareedot*~
Haguenau is much like all the other places they’ve been to in the sense that it’s a bombed-out shell of whatever it once was. Eugene doesn’t feel much when he sees the wrecked buildings and ruined streets at this point, his aching body moving on autopilot as he walks with Spina to their assigned bunk.
They’ve been given a small bedroom to share in the house that’s been designated as the aid station, just a few doors down from the rest of Easy Company. The intact roof is really all Eugene needs to be satisfied, so the two proper beds and wooden desk are pretty much the icing on the cake. The window in their room gives them a view of the river, across which is enemy territory, though they’re partially blocked by the roof of a neighbouring building.
There’s still work to be done, so all they really do is give their room an approving once-over before they head downstairs again.
Eugene is kept busy on the ground floor of the house-turned-aid station, helping the injured men who show up at their door and sorting through their inventory in the in-between. When the shelling from the other side starts, Eugene is out the door the moment he hears cries for a medic.
It’s Kiehn, dead before he can even get to him. He feels like he’s failed somehow - maybe he should have been closer to the men before the barrage started, or maybe he should have run out just a few seconds earlier. To make up for it, he decides to check on every Easy Company man just in case anyone else is wounded. He overhears conversations here and there as he does so, and soon catches wind of the patrol taking place that night.
“Should’ve seen Malarkey’s face when that new Lieutenant told him,” someone grimaces.
“Webster knew beforehand too - was trying to keep a lid on the names of the guys who were picked though,” another adds.
“I’m surprised Liebgott hasn’t jumped him yet - hey, what’s that face for? You know what I mean.”
“With the way Webster told Babe, One Lung, and Ramirez they were going, hell, I’d jump him myself if I were one of them - and not in the good way either, so stop your grinning, you sly bastard.”
Eugene feels his stomach drop. Perhaps he should have seen this coming, what with Second Platoon’s usual luck. It doesn’t keep the knowledge that Babe - no, Heffron, will be sent out on such a risky patrol from leaving him slightly off-kiltered, though he refuses to stop his rounds until everyone has been seen to.
In the end, he bumps into Heffron, literally. The redhead is quick to stabilise him when he stumbles, a worried frown marring the Alpha’s face.
“Gene, you look terrible,” Heffron remarks, and Eugene realises the other is fresh from the showers while he’s still wearing an additional layer of grime on his skin.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to get any dirt on you,” he takes a step back, but Heffron stops him from going any further by grabbing his arm.
“I don’t mean that, Gene, I mean you look dead on your feet. When’d you last take a break? Have you even eaten since we got ‘ere?”
“Was checking up on the men,” Eugene replies.
Heffron blinks, “Right. So I’m guessin’ I’m last?”
Eugene takes stock of who he’s seen in his mind.
“Yeah,” he shrugs, unsure of where this is going.
“Great,” Heffron shoots him a crooked smile, “Well, Doc, as the last patient on your list, I demand special treatment.”
“...How so?”
Heffron makes a show of scanning their immediate surroundings for any eavesdroppers before leaning in and whispering conspiratorially, “If you’re plannin’ on checkin’ out that bruise on my arm, I don’t wanna have it done where all the other guys can see my bracelet again. Gives ‘em fresh ammo for an old target, y’know? So, Doc, think you could let me upgrade this check-up to a private suite? To make up for putting me dead last?”
It takes Eugene a second to process this, though he eventually gives the other a slow nod. His heart rate’s starting to pick up again, and his ears have begun to warm though he tries to convince himself that Heffron’s only cracking a joke, and any underlying meaning he’s picking up is just a product of his own traitorous mind.
“Get yourself a shower first, though. There’s still hot water in the tank,” Heffron says, already pulling Eugene towards the showers.
Eugene goes easily, the feeling of Babe’s - Heffron’s fingers around his wrist equally grounding as it is sending his head into the clouds.
Briefly, he wonders if wearing Heffron’s courting bracelet will feel the same.
God, he hopes the hot water can melt the nonsense in his brain away.
~*peareedot*~
Once he’s washed and changed into a new uniform, Eugene leads Heffron to his room. They walk past a few other medics on the way up the stairs, and Eugene can’t help but feel self-conscious at the questioning glances from the mix of Betas and Omegas.
Heffron seems none the wiser, thankfully, too busy looking at the photos on the walls and the trinkets left about, memories of a family who’ll likely never see this place again.
Spina’s still out, so the room is empty. When Eugene shuts the door behind them, the noises from outside are instantly muffled, leaving the two of them in relative silence.
“Nice place,” Heffron whistles, “Our place ain’t that bad either. Lotta guys in one room though, and now that Webster’s back the space feels ten times smaller ‘cause of how everyone’s scents keep spikin’. ‘Specially Liebgott’s.”
“What’s that about, anyway?” Eugene asks, remembering some of the comments he overheard earlier in the day.
“I don’t even wanna know at this point,” Heffron snickers, “Just hope if they end up killin’ each other they do it far away from wherever I am, ‘cause I ain’t gettin’ involved with that mess.”
Eugene hums, and decides he doesn’t want to either.
They spend another few minutes in silence, Heffron busy checking out the desk and view, when Eugene finally remembers why they’ve come here in the first place.
“Let me see that bruise, Heffron,” he says, and he can practically feel the other’s eyeroll.
“What’d I tell you before, Gene?” It’s said in a lighthearted way despite the other’s obvious annoyance, and Eugene can’t contain his amusement.
“Sorry, Edward.”
Heffron spins around, exasperation plain on his face, “Now you’re just messin’ with me. Have mercy on a guy, won’t you?”
Eugene shrugs, and gestures for Heffron to pull back his sleeve.
The Alpha rolls his eyes again, but does it anyway.
The bruise has faded since Eugene last saw it, though it was never of much concern in the first place. What does alarm him, however, is the realisation that Heffron’s wrist is bare.
Did Heffron give his bracelet away? Or did he lose it on the road? Both possibilities sound horrible in very different ways.
Heffron picks up on the worried spike in his scent easily enough.
“It ain’t lost, if that’s what you’re thinkin’,” he says, and Eugene feels heat rush to his cheeks.
Where is it then, he wants to ask, but he knows it isn’t his place to.
Instead, he just chews on his bottom lip, unsure of how to continue the conversation.
A few seconds pass before Heffron decides to break the silence.
“Did you hear about the patrol tonight?” the redhead asks, voice low.
Eugene nods, though his eyes are still fixed on the other’s wrist.
“They want us to take some prisoners from across the river,” Heffron murmurs, and Eugene feels the weight of his gaze on his face, “To tell you the truth, we all think it’s a stupid idea.”
There’s a palpable tension in the air now, so thick that Eugene worries it’ll devour them both.
“We saw the boats they’re giving us - rafts, more like,” Heffron continues, “Everyone knows the chances of things goin’ wrong are…”
He trails off, and Eugene gets it - they’re all on high alert, and they’ve gotten to the point where they’re worried that even saying the wrong thing will jinx them all somehow.
“Anyway,” Heffron clears his throat, “I was worried that I’d lose the bracelet somehow in the river. It’d be too dark and deep for me to do anythin’ about it if that happens. So I wanted to ask…if you’d keep it safe for me?”
Eugene’s eyes dart upwards, locking with Heffron’s.
The Alpha flushes, words pouring out in a rush, “I know it’s a lot to ask of you! So really, don’t take this as an order or nothing - heh, not that I can even order you around anyway, being a Private and all. But it’d mean a lot to me, knowing it’s with someone who’ll really take care of it.”
Eugene wonders if it’s possible for a heart to beat so quickly that the sound of it echoes off the walls of a room. He thinks he’s getting close to that point.
Now Heffron’s face is redder than his hair, and his palms are up like he’s trying to calm down a spooked dog, “Don’t feel pressured to say yes, though! I can just be extra careful with it during the patrol, or maybe I can leave it with someone else - ”
“No,” Eugene interrupts, and almost tosses himself out the window in embarrassment at how loud and desperate he sounds.
Heffron looks rather stunned himself, blinking at him with wide eyes.
Eugene’s quick to explain, “I mean - I don’t mind. I’ll take care of it.”
Heffron’s eyes soften, a relieved smile forming on his face.
“Thanks, Gene, you’re a lifesaver.”
“Where is it, anyway?”
Heffron’s expression turns slightly bashful.
“May have gotten ahead of myself and left it on that desk of yours. Figured that if you didn’t notice it was missin’ from my wrist I could just…leave it here and hope you’d get the message.”
Eugene huffs, though he can’t help the surge of affection within him.
“You’re an idiot, Edward.”
The Alpha’s smile only widens at that.
~*peareedot*~
He’s painfully aware of the courting bracelet sitting in his left breast pocket.
Spina’s back from wherever he disappeared off to earlier, and the two of them have been given strict orders to rest for a couple hours before the patrol is sent out. Now they’re lying in their beds, Spina already snoring while Eugene’s left staring at the dusty ceiling.
He wonders if Edward’s in a briefing right now, or maybe he’s already getting his gear ready. His mind, unsalvageable at this point, drifts to images of Edward rolling up his sleeves in front of the other guys, inviting questions about where his most prized possession has gone.
With Gene, Edward would say, all casual-like, though everyone in his vicinity would sense the true weight behind those two words, the claim they really represent.
Get your mind out of the gutter, Eugene scolds himself, the voice in his head sounding more like his father’s than his own, War ain’t the place to grow childish and stupid.
Still, he swears the bracelet must be enchanted, as it seems to grow heavier with each passing minute it sits over his heart. Finally, he decides he can’t take the temptation anymore, and takes it out from his pocket, cradling it in his hand.
Up close like this, he gets a clearer view of how pristine the bracelet has managed to stay despite the war it’s lived through. Edward’s hard work, no doubt. He thinks of the amount of effort the Alpha must have put in to keep it safe and perfect, the generations’ worth of love this precious string of pearls carries. That Edward trusts him enough to leave such a priceless object in his care is already better than he could ever hope for, and he curses the part of him that still greedily wishes for more.
Against his better judgment, he brings the bracelet closer to his face, and catches Edward’s scent wafting from it. It’s enough to soothe the worries in his mind, and soon he feels his eyelids drooping, his body finally deciding that it’s safe enough to drift off into slumber.
~*peareedot*~
The patrol ends in chaos, though Eugene is grateful that Babe - Edward made it out relatively unscathed. They’re not able to talk much after - even so, the way their gazes instinctively lock after Jackson’s demise sears itself into his memory.
They’re subsequently kept so busy with their respective tasks that by the time they’re moving off again, Eugene still hasn’t had the chance to give Edward his bracelet back.
I’ll do it at the next stop, he tells himself, doing his best to ignore the reluctance brewing at the thought.
But it seems like at every stop they make, and every detour they end up taking, Eugene and Edward are assigned tasks on opposite ends of the camp, their paths never intersecting. And so the bracelet remains in his pocket, a constant reminder of everything he wants and all that he can’t have.
~*peareedot*~
Berchtesgaden, with its oversized hotels and neverending supplies of silver, gold, and jewels, is a sharp contrast to the devastation they witnessed in Landsberg.
This time, Eugene gets a small hotel room all to himself, on a floor populated by fellow medics. When he hears yelling from outside, he’s quick to poke his head out his window, fearing the worst.
Instead, it’s a parade of soldiers running alongside trucks packed to the brim with what apparently used to be some Nazi bastard's giant hoard of alcohol. Some of the soldiers are already carrying half drunk bottles of wine, barely walking in a straight line. Eugene gets the sense that it’ll be a long night for all of them.
The other medics are already thundering down the stairs by the time he gets his door open, and he’s pulled along by Spina before he can even register what’s going on. Somewhere in the frenzy he gets a glass of whatever-it-is handed to him, and he spends the rest of the evening slowly sipping at it, using it as a means of waving off any further offers. He needs to stay on his toes, after all, especially with all the injuries he’s already expecting from the shenanigans a bunch of young, hammered soldiers are bound to get themselves in.
It’s nearing midnight and he’s just finished seeing to someone’s sprained ankle - the most serious injury of the night, thank goodness - when he hears his name being called. It’s none other than Liebgott, looking extremely unamused as he trudges towards him, bogged down by the weight of Babe (Edward, Heffron, whatever) as the larger man leans on him.
“Doc, you gotta help me here,” Liebgott pants.
Eugene rushes over immediately, and Liebgott practically throws the redhead at him.
“What’s wrong with him?” Eugene asks, ever professional. He’s relieved when he doesn’t spot any noticeable injuries on Babe’s person.
Liebgott rolls his eyes, “What isn’t? I don’t know how much he drank, but he’s been calling for you for at least the past two hours. Genie this, Genie that - God, you’d think he was some street cat in heat with all that yowling. I’ve had to drag him around the whole camp ‘cause everyone else is practically gone too. Bunch of fucking kids. Anyway, now that he’s with you I can finally go back to enjoying my night in peace.”
Genie. Now that’s a new one. Eugene hopes his blush isn’t too obvious, but Liebgott evidently doesn’t care as he’s already walking away.
Babe lets out a groan, and Eugene quickly turns his attention back to him.
The other’s eyes are glazed, and his scent is mixed with the pungence of alcohol.
“Genie?” Heffron asks, and Eugene nods.
A dopey smile widens across the Alpha’s face.
“Think we could go somewhere quiet? Need’a lay down a little.”
“Sure, Babe,” Eugene replies. When his brain catches up with his mouth, he almost flinches.
Babe’s smile only grows.
“Sounds good when you say it.”
The bracelet in his pocket only seems to grow heavier.
~*peareedot*~
Miraculously, Eugene manages to manhandle Babe up the stairs and into his room.
Babe flops on to his bed with a loud thump. For a moment, Eugene thinks the other man has gone unconscious, until he hears him calling his name, voice muffled from where he’s facedown on Eugene’s pillow.
“Need anything?” Eugene asks, sitting on the edge of the bed.
With great effort, Babe manages to flip himself over so he can look him in the eye.
“Nah,” Babe mumbles, words slurring from the alcohol, “Just wanna see you.”
Eugene’s torn between kissing the redhead silly or sprouting wings and flying back to the bayou. Both seem like equally impossible ideas. Instead, he gets his water canteen from his side table and hands it over to Babe, urging him to drink from it.
“Thanks, Gene,” Babe tells him when he’s had his fill, sounding just as drunk as before.
Eugene hums, and the two lapse into silence.
This time, Babe is the one to break it again, to no one’s surprise.
“I don’t think I can walk outta here, Gene,” he slurs, “Can I stay over tonight?”
“Sure,” Eugene replies, failing to keep his voice from cracking, “I can sleep over at Spina’s. He’s right next door.”
The expression he gets from Babe makes him feel like he’s offended him somehow.
“But Geeeeene,” he whines, and Eugene’s definitely a goner when he finds even that painfully charming, “I can’t kick you outta your own room.”
“It ain’t no problem. I’m used to sharing a space with Spina by now.”
Babe huffs, mouth pulled down into a frown, “Sure you are. You don’t like nobody’s company but his anyway.”
“Now that ain’t true,” Eugene replies, though he’s quick to snap his mouth shut when he realises the danger in continuing down this line of conversation.
Babe isn’t letting him go this time, though. Maybe this is what liquid courage really is.
“Oh yeah? Then why don’t you talk to anyone else?”
“I talk to you plenty, don’t I?”
At that, Babe’s expression turns visibly smug, “Yeah, you do. Haven’t seen you in so long, though. Missed you, Genie.”
Eugene’s gaze softens.
“Just been too busy, that’s all. Got so many things to do all the time.”
Babe nods like a bobblehead, “I know, I know. Still, can’t hurt to just spend some time together now and again, huh?”
When Eugene hums in agreement, he catches the way Babe’s scent strengthens, growing more pronounced as the minutes go by. It’s its own brand of intoxication, and the pesky part of his mind wonders if it’ll still coat every part of his room in the morning.
He licks his lips without meaning to. The glass of whatever-it-was must have been stronger than he thought.
It’s then that he realises that it’s probably the best time to return Babe’s bracelet to him. It’s impossible to say if they’ll even get time alone like this again, after all.
“I’ve been meaning to do this - just haven’t had the time,” he murmurs, reaching into his pocket.
He pulls the bracelet out, and Babe’s eyes widen.
“Here,” Eugene holds it out to the Alpha, “Sorry for keeping it for so long. I know you must’ve been wanting it back.”
“You’re…giving it back?” Babe whispers, eyes seeming to take on a wet sheen.
Eugene cocks his head in confusion, “...Yeah? I mean, it’s yours, ain’t it?”
Babe pales, and panic flares in Eugene’s chest at the thought that he’s missed an injury after all.
What he doesn’t expect is Babe bursting into tears.
“Woah - Heffron, what’s wrong -”
Babe only sobs harder.
“Heffron? Are you hurt?”
“Quit calling me that!” Babe wails, hands coming up to cover his face.
“Sorry - Babe, are you hurt?” Eugene scoots over, patting the other on the shoulder in an attempt to soothe him.
“My chest hurts,” Babe blubbers, and Eugene’s just about to kick into Doc mode proper when he continues, “It hurts…because - because my heart is brooooken…”
“Wha - why’s that, Babe?”
Babe sniffles, “‘Cause you’re givin’ it back.”
Eugene’s stumped.
“But…” he starts, “But it’s yours, ain’t it?”
That sends Babe into another fit of sobs, “NO. It’s yours.”
Eugene feels like he’s just been splashed with a truckload of ice-cold water.
“...What?” it’s a terrible response, but it’s all he’s got.
Babe sniffles, still slurring his words as he says, “Ma said to only give it to someone I’m really sure about. And I ain’t never been as sure about anyone, or anything, in this entire world, as I am of you, Gene.”
Eugene’s breath hitches. He’s dreaming. He has to be. Or maybe he’s dead. Maybe that glass of whatever-it-was killed him, because that sounds much more plausible than what’s happening right here, right now.
“But,” Babe tears up again, “But I’m an idiot. I shoulda known it was a pipe dream for a guy like me to win over someone like you.”
“Babe…” Eugene can’t help the small smile on his face as he wipes the tears off the other’s face, “You don’t even know what you’re saying right now.”
“But I do,” Babe insists, and he reaches up to catch Eugene’s hand in his own, “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met, Gene, inside and out. You’re outta my league, always have been.”
“You’re drunk, Babe. You’ll regret all this in the morning, I’m sure.”
“The only thing I’ll ever regret is never seeing you wear that bracelet,” Babe huffs, and Eugene can’t help the way his heart twinges.
“Y’sure about that?” Eugene asks, and Babe nods vigorously in response.
“Alright,” Eugene says, “Put it on me, then, if that’s what’ll calm you down.”
Babe sits up in a hurry.
“You mean it, Gene?”
“Yeah, go on then.” Eugene deposits the bracelet into Babe’s waiting hand, and holds out his own left arm.
Babe’s eyes glisten in the light of the moon shining through the window. Slowly, he unclasps the bracelet and gingerly wraps it around Eugene’s wrist.
Eugene doesn’t realise he’s holding his breath until the bracelet is firmly on. The sight of the small pendant with its engraved ‘H’ sends his heart into overdrive.
Babe lets out an exhale.
“It’s perfect, Genie.”
Before Eugene can say anything else, Babe flops over, out like a light.
~*peareedot*~
Eugene spends most of the night agonising over a multitude of things. First, he worries over how a sober Babe will react the next morning when he sees he’s wearing his most prized possession. Then he frets over his own unwillingness to take it off, even though he can very well do just that now that Babe’s out cold. Finally, his mind insists on replaying Babe’s drunken confession over, and over, and over again, to the point that he thinks he’ll sooner forget his own name than anything that was said within these four walls.
In the end, he grows so tired from the worry that he drifts off to sleep, slumping over on the bed next to Babe.
(It’s far from what a respectable Omega ought to do, but he’s never been seen as a proper Omega anyway.)
He wakes up to the sound of a startled yelp. When he blinks his eyes open, he’s face to face with a thunderstruck Babe.
“...Babe?” he groans, head hurting not from a hangover but all the thinking (spiralling) that’s been going on both in and out of his dreams.
Babe lets out a squeak, “I - I’m so fucking sorry, Gene.”
“Huh?” Eugene squints at the other man, brows furrowing.
“It wasn’t right of me at all, what I did to you,” Babe stammers, “Makin’ you bring me up here, runnin’ my mouth like that, actin’ like a fool, God.”
His eyes dart to the bracelet still on Eugene’s wrist.
“My ma would kill me if she were here now. Forcin’ my courting bracelet on you, guiltin’ you for wantin’ to give it back when I never properly asked you out in the first place. I’m a coward, Gene, and a real sorry one too.”
“Hey, it ain’t that bad -”
“Ain’t that bad? I made you put on that damn thing ‘cause I didn’t have the balls to tell you how I feel properly, and now you’ve got me stinkin’ up your bed.”
Eugene feels like his mouth has gone dry.
“...How you feel?”
Babe splutters, “And there I go again! Ma always said my mouth’ll be the end of me, and she ain’t never been wrong about nothin’ before.”
“Babe,” Eugene says, surprising even himself with the firmness of his voice. Babe clamps his mouth shut instantly.
“What do you mean by ‘how you feel’?” he asks emphatically, barely pushing down the hope that threatens to overflow from that tiny corner of his mind.
“I…” Babe starts. At first, it seems like he won’t be saying anything more after all, but he soon gets a resolute look in his eyes and a determined set to his jaw.
“Gene,” he tries again, voice stronger this time, “I was damn near outta my mind yesterday, but I meant it when I said that I was sure about you. And you really are the most beautiful person I’ve ever met. It sounds insane, but I’ve been holding a candle for you ever since Bastogne, of all places. The guys’d see me with that bracelet, and I’d make up some shit about waitin’ for my soulmate, when really I already knew that if it wasn’t gonna be you, then it wasn’t gonna be anybody else.”
It’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to him, and Eugene feels affection for the man lying beside him surge through his entire being.
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Eugene asks.
Babe shrugs, a self-depricating smile on his face, “Just didn’t see how I could tell you all this without you kicking me to the curb.”
Eugene lets out an amused huff.
“I don’t know how and why you got that impression of me, but I’d never do that, especially to you,” he resists the urge to break eye-contact, to turn tail and flee even, deciding that Babe more than deserves his honesty. “I’d be lying if I said I haven’t had a soft spot for you since Aldbourne.”
Babe’s sitting upright in a flash, looking down at him with widened eyes, “What the - Aldbourne? You mean when I first got here?”
“Mm-hmm,” Eugene nods, “Ever since I saw you in that dress uniform, making a fool of yourself at the dart boards.”
“This - this ain’t a joke, right? ‘Cause if it is, I ain’t lying when I say it’d be nicer to just shoot me point-blank.”
“Nah, I’m telling the truth,” Eugene replies, “Felt like I was taking advantage of your trust by keeping your bracelet with me when I wanted it so bad.”
The ensuing silence is so loud that Eugene genuinely believes his eardrums could burst from hearing nothing at all.
Finally, Babe asks, voice coated with a mix of disbelief, wonder, and unconcealed hope, “Does…does this mean I’ve got a chance with you?”
Eugene’s gaze softens.
“Babe, you’ve had me for a long time now.”
When Babe wraps his arms around Eugene for the first time, he finds himself enveloped in the scent of fresh summer berries, sweet on the tongue and ripe with the promise of only warm, sunny days ahead. Like this, his own arms are caught between their bodies, the courting bracelet sandwiched by their chests.
He feels the press of the pearls like a brand, its weight now grounding rather than suffocating.
“Hey Gene,” Babe murmurs, and Eugene hums in question.
“Can I kiss you?” Babe whispers, voice a little shaky.
They look at each other for a moment, and Eugene decides that he never wants to see that sliver of self-doubt in Babe’s eyes ever again.
And so he closes the gap between their lips, hoping his feelings get across like he wants them to.
(It’s alright even if Babe doesn’t get the full message just yet, though. They have a whole life ahead to spend together, after all. He’ll figure it out eventually; Eugene’s sure of it.)