[ He laughs a little, his whole face lighting up with it. ] Sure, you don't drink. But when you become the President or whatever you can just summon it for your good ol' friend. It won't be that big of a deal.
Oh, he hated me. He just couldn't say or do anything about it because the bankroll was more important. [ There's just the vaguest edge of bitterness to his voice, there and then gone when he looks at Dick. ] Yeah. [ He smiles this time, a rare and honest kind, without the usual mocking edge. He's lucky, to have someone like him on his side. ]
Seriously, running? You just did an obstacle course, Winters!
Right, so I'm supposed to abuse my power for your gain? The curtain rises and the truth comes forward, I'm seeing your true colours now.
(But it is a funny picture, it's not like he hasn't smuggled alcohol for Nix already. No one ever suspected him, after all. Everyone knew he didn't drink, so no one ever suspected him to have it on him, even with his best friend considered. They just didn't think he would do something like that, plain and simple. He was just the nice guy from Lancaster with questionable religious upbringings.)
Of course. (The bitterness earns him a gentle little bump, to pull him back into the present.) Sure is good money doesn't have anything to say for me then, huh? (And he smiles in return, just as honest.) I can't wait.
[ He laughs again, his eyebrows lifting so that his whole expression is as innocent as he can make it ... which is probably not very much. ] How is that any different than me abusing your footlocker? [ He doesn't really get how no one ever suspects Dick of bending the rules a little. Maybe they just get so confused by his comely face and dignity. But Nix knows him a little better than that. Dick wants to do the right thing, certainly, but he's not above being a sarcastic little shit who blurs the guidelines a little.
He gets bumped and it does it's trick, his bad thoughts ushered away like bats from a light. ]
No running. We're going out. I'll buy you dinner, how's about it?
I'm not letting you use my footlocker. You just do it, and I'm not in a position where I can say no and still maintain our relationship. (But he doesn't say anything against it, so it's not like he has ever given any indication that Nix shouldn't be using his footlocker. It's not like there's anything else in there of interest, he can get away with it.
It's his face, his serious nature, the fact that he has yet to break a rule (and be found out), and is always the one to lead the way. They just see the perfect soldier, which, in part is what he wants to be, at least now that he's trapped in a war. Why give them any other ideas?)
That. (Normally Dick would try to say no, or try to convince Nix to let him pay his own way, he could afford it and all, but tonight:) Where should we go? I'm in the mood for anything.
You could say no. [ He shrugs but it does nothing to soften the smirk on his face. ] I mean, I probably wouldn't listen. But you could say no.
[ His dumb serious face is the first thing that Nix started to get stuck on. He couldn't resist a man like Dick, a ginger angel with the humour of the devil. Part of him is incredibly glad that he was chosen and not someone else. It gives him a sense of bonding.
When Dick doesn't argue ( he always argues ), Nix's smile goes wide and utterly pleased. ] There's a nice pizza place a couple of block's over. Heard some of the guys talk about it. [ And it's not too fancy, which has to help. ]
(He considers a moment, one eyebrow raising slightly as he looks at him.) I don't remember saying yes in the first place, so I doubt you would.
(His face stays serious, impassive, but the quirked eyebrow gives away that he's quite amused. Someone who didn't know him well might think that he was being condescending, but by now most of the men knew him well enough to where none of them would react to his comments. They know that he's quiet, yes, but when he talks, it's because he has something worth saying.
His lips twitch a bit at the smile on Nix's face, he likes seeing him smile like that, he can never avoid smiling when he does.) Is that the place that Perconte and Guarnere were talking about the other day? The place almost like Mom's? (He remembers hearing something about an italian restaurant that had pizza like the homeland, as they put it.) That sounded good, even if I don't think I could do with spaghetti.
[ Nix just grins in response, a shit-eating kind of smile that seems to take up his whole body with how buoyant it makes him. ] Yeah, you're right. I probably wouldn't. [ He claps a hand to Dick's bicep, still smirking. ] But you're a pal. You'd hate for me to get reprimanded.
You know they do things other than Spaghetti, right? [ Nix could probably put away a whole pizza by himself, with how he's feeling right now. ] If it's not your thing I'm sure there's some other place around town. I could ask a few of the fellas?
(The shit-eating grin is when you know you're in trouble, although he always feels like he's in some sort of trouble when they're together. He's a terrible influence, Dick's not sure why he sticks around him, honestly.) I know you well. (He reaches up then to take Nix's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before pushing it off him, linger longer than necessary with it in his hand, although hopefully to most it wouldn't be obvious.) Only because you'd sulk about it and I'd have to listen.
You don't say? (Dick gives him a playful eye roll. He doesn't think anyone in Easy could stomach spaghetti any time soon.) No, no, that's fine. All I want is ice cream after. I heard they don't have that in England, if we end up there.
Ice-cream. [ Nix knows far too well that Dick has a sweet tooth. It was one of the first things they'd talked about, when he'd cornered him and outright suggested that he wouldn't think Dick was human unless he had a craving for something. ]
You can have all the ice-cream you want, Winters. Sprinkles too, if they have them. [ Part of him knows not to flash his cash around Dick. It always makes him look discomforted. But the rest of him just wants to be able to treat his friend for once. And he doubts dinner and desert could really get him worked up. ]
(That had been a funny confrontation, and one of his favourite to date. He knew that there was talk across the camp about the fact that he didn't drink, smoke or chase skirts. It was all harmless, even then he had somehow garnered a decent amount of respect that he wasn't quite sure he deserved considering how little he had done, but he appreciated nonetheless. He'd been asked if he had anything, and honestly, all there was was ice-cream. It was something he craved, desired, and considered himself something of an ice cream snob, even, though in desperate times he would take whatever he could get. They had laughed and said it didn't count as a vice, but it was the only one for him.)
It doesn't need sprinkles. Maybe a nice, thick hot fudge, that's always good, but I'm just as happy with a scoop of pure vanilla as I am some crazy sundae. (The thought makes him smile fondly, as if he already has the first spoon of it on his tongue, and he's feeling more eager now about the dinner.)
We'll have pizza, then. Pizza and ice cream. I think it's called gelato in Italy, I read that somewhere. Maybe if we jump into Italy we can get some there, too.
[ Dick is an absolute sweetheart. Nix can't help the new fondness to his smile. ] Hey, we can't have you going off to war with just a scoop of vanilla to your name. [ Humming a little. ] I gotta say, I wouldn't say no to a coke float.
[ There's a spring in his step as he moves to where the showers are kept and he holds the door open with a grin. ] Let's hurry. I'm starving now.
But if it's the last thing I eat before we drop, I'll be a happy man, ready for war. (Of course, he doesn't know how much truth is in his words right now.) Oh, I haven't had one of those in too long. Maybe we should get those too.
(Dick ducks in then, pulling his t-shirt off quickly then as he went to the cubby he had secured himself earlier to get out his soap, and get out of the rest of his gear so he can head into the showers.) I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying. If you starve I'll make sure they serve pizza at your funeral.
[ He grins a little at Dick, pleased at how much he seems to be getting in to the idea of their dinner-date. His own clothes get dumped with less of a kindness, his thoughts firmly on getting in and out of the shower.
Nix takes the spot next to Dick without thinking about it, soaping up with a hum of song under his breath. ] You better. Cake too. I'll put the ice-cream into my will.
(Is it a date? Dick's not really sure how it works with them. They've hd a fumble here and there, but he's not sure what it all has meant, other than desperation in times of war, even if they weren't at war yet. It was an itch to scratch that couldn't be scratched by others.
He's used to taking quick showers, at least, lathering up from head to toe with the same bar, his hair, too.)
What kind of cake do you want? Is there some upper class one that's your favourite I've never even heard of?
[ Can't a dude just ask another dude out for pizza and ice-cream???? ]
I like chocolate. [ It's delivered so dryly, his elbow obscuring the crookedness of his smile as he rinses out his hair. ] I don't want any of that other crap clogging up your throat during your speech, you hear me?
[ Nix's tone is sly, playful. He doesn't really see himself as truly mortal, at least not yet. Even though they're going off to war and many of them won't come back, it just hasn't sunk in. ]
Though remind me to tell you about my tenth birthday party some day. My mother served canapés.
(Of course a dude can, but it just takes it to a whole new level when one dude is in love with the other dude. Which dude is which, that is the real question.)
Chocolate, then. With chocolate frosting? I'll make sure they slather it on real thick. (A soft snort is followed with a sigh as he stands under the water. It's hot, surprisingly, and no matter how good it feels, it makes him all too aware of muscles that are tired and aching. It helps, a bit, at least, and he shifts to crack his shoulder before turning it off. Might as well save some of the hot water for the others in the company. It's the polite thing to do.) I have to write a speech? You're so high maintenance.
(He grabs his towel then and wraps it around his hips after quickly giving himself a once over with it, stepping out and heading back to the changing area.)
[ Is it worse when both of the dudes are in love with each other and neither of them know? ]
Definitely chocolate frosting. [ He finishes up first. Usually Nix would be a fan of long and incredibly warm showers, but they have plans and it's not like he's going to stay under the spray when he gets time with Dick. ] You have to write a speech. Tell everyone how great a guy I was. Otherwise it'll just be dull, boring, old men in suits talking about how it's a shame for the family.
[ By the time Dick steps out, Nix already has a towel wrapped around his waist and is using another one to dry his hair. ] Tiny, gross little pastry things. Posh people food that's probably not actually food.
(Yes. Yes that definitely makes it worse. Probably, it's where they are, at least.)
I'll write that down in my diary tonight. (Not that he wants to think too hard on all of this, at least not in a serious fashion. Right now, the war, and the death that came with it, was at least still something distant. He doesn't want to have to think in honest about delivering Nix's eulogy. That'd break his heart.) Chocolate frosting, and the beginning of your eulogy. I'll invite all of Easy. Maybe Sobel will come and make everyone run Currahee as punishment. I think dying is an infraction that'll make us all lose our weekend pass for the rest of the war.
(Dick arches a brow slightly towards the other as he begins to change, pulling on boxers and then his service uniform, pleated perfectly as always, lest they give Sobel something to pick on, and it doesn't take long for him to be ready to go.) Sounds like a terrible thing to serve at a kids birthday party. (He frowns for a moment.) I think we had sandwiches at mine. Mom used cookie cutters to cut them into shapes.
[ Nix's snort of laughter is almost a choke of it, his face obscured still by the towel. ] He'll probably make you guys carry the coffin at the same time. It's a good thing the food on base is still shit, I probably lost a few pounds.
[ He moves to get dressed too, his own uniform probably less perfect than Dick's. But that's how they usually are. ] You mean like stars and hearts? [ It's clear from his tone he's never even been to a party like that. ] Triangles, Dick. That's how you take sandwiches. In tiny triangles.
[ Lacing his boots he glances over. ] Sounds nice though. What else did you do at these parties of yours?
Oh, come on now Nix. The food is only bad on the days that end with Y. (And even then, Dick doesn't think it's too terrible. He's had better, but he's had worse, too, and it's at least better than at the last camp they were at. And they have decent ice cream even in the mess, which mean's he's more than happy to eat when he gets his favourite dessert.
Dick affixes his hat atop his head, and then peers at him.) Stars and moons, actually. (He can't help but grin at the look he's on the receiving end of right then. Is it really so strange?) Triangles are boring. That's for every day lunches, shapes make it seem special.
(Dick sits so he too can pull on his boots.) We had games? You know. Pin the tail on the donkey, clothes pin drop, musical chairs. Mom always made my favourite drink, fresh squeezed lemonade with crushed strawberries in it and we got one glass each, and then she made a cake that had both chocolate and white cake, and even had real, buttercream frosting.
[ Dick's ice cream habit is one of those early things that charmed Nix. Because it was so sweet, so innocent, but felt so deeply that it was an actual honest to God addiction in some cases. So he knows all about his friend's fondness of this camp's mess. Which means Nix rolls his eyes at the first thing and then turns deeply curious at the rest.
He listens to Dick explain the birthday habit as he tightens up his tie and stands, watching him for a moment as he talks about the sandwiches, the games, the special drink, the cake. It sounds cute and it makes him ache because he didn't know the boy who liked all of that.
Perhaps, if he had, Nix himself would be different. ] Do you think I can hire your mom next year? Mine always makes me get a party planner but I don't know, moon sandwiches sound great.
(Dick can't stop the actual snort of laughter that comes at Nix's next words. Asking if he could hire his mother, well, that certainly is funny. But at the same time, he understands, to a point. He's not heard too much of Nix's upbringing, not in serious at least. It usually came through with little comments as above, with how sandwiches were supposed to be cut, and frilly foods at a kids party. It makes him wonder if Nix have ever gotten the chance to really be a kid, with all that followed. One night he's referred to himself as Mrs.Nixon's Baby Boy, and Dick couldn't help but wonder if she'd ever let him climb trees, play until it was dark outside, skin his knee. All things regular kids did.
He stands again when his boots are done, and shrugs his shoulders a bit.) I'll write to her and ask for you. She was pleased you liked her cookies, even if she thought you were praising them too much. I bet she blushed when she read the letter.
Will I be invited to your party? I haven't played Drop the Handkerchief in years.
Her cookies were a gift from heaven, Dick. Maybe you don't appreciate them like you ought to. [ He grins a little smugly, flashing his gaze towards his friend as they both head towards the door. ]
Drop the Handkerchief? [ One eyebrow lifts in question. ] What's that? Courtship for kiddies? [ Games for children can now be added to the list of things Nix has no idea about. It was probably all parties for the grown-ups showing off how smart and classy their families are. ]
I am well aware of how good they are. It's my favourite thing to receive on my birthday, but she doesn't think they're all that you talk them up to be. Ma's humble. (Though as he says that, his eyes flash with amusement and he gives Nix a gentle little shove.) You're lucky I like you enough to share.
Really? (As they leave the building, Dick glances at him, the surprise plain to see on his face.) You never played that either? Jeez, what did you do at your parties for fun? (He frowns just a little.) Sort of? (Already Dick's cheeks start to take on a slight tint of pink.) It's a game. Everyone stands in a circle facing the centre, and then there's one person outside with a handkerchief circling around it. The players in the circle have to keep their gaze in to the middle, and the person on the outside is supposed to drop the handkerchief behind someone. When that person realises it's been dropped, they have to chase after the person who dropped it back to the open space, and whoever gets there first wins? But if you catch them you're supposed to tag them, and they're stuck on the outside again. (And now his cheeks are a bright pink.) It's how I got my first kiss. The girl was taller than me and caught me, and kissed me. And everyone laughed.
You're all humble. [ It's infuriating because the Winters' family are all so sweet and kind. They should know just how good they are.
At the question of his childhood parties he shrugs and then grins like a shark when he sees the flush of colour on his friend's cheeks. It's an appealing look for him, and one Nix is already fond of when he gets down to the nitty gritty of liking him. ]
You had to be caught for your first kiss? God, you're so adorable it's making me sick.
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Oh, he hated me. He just couldn't say or do anything about it because the bankroll was more important. [ There's just the vaguest edge of bitterness to his voice, there and then gone when he looks at Dick. ] Yeah. [ He smiles this time, a rare and honest kind, without the usual mocking edge. He's lucky, to have someone like him on his side. ]
Seriously, running? You just did an obstacle course, Winters!
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(But it is a funny picture, it's not like he hasn't smuggled alcohol for Nix already. No one ever suspected him, after all. Everyone knew he didn't drink, so no one ever suspected him to have it on him, even with his best friend considered. They just didn't think he would do something like that, plain and simple. He was just the nice guy from Lancaster with questionable religious upbringings.)
Of course. (The bitterness earns him a gentle little bump, to pull him back into the present.) Sure is good money doesn't have anything to say for me then, huh? (And he smiles in return, just as honest.) I can't wait.
(Dick shrugs.) Three miles up, three miles down.
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He gets bumped and it does it's trick, his bad thoughts ushered away like bats from a light. ]
No running. We're going out. I'll buy you dinner, how's about it?
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It's his face, his serious nature, the fact that he has yet to break a rule (and be found out), and is always the one to lead the way. They just see the perfect soldier, which, in part is what he wants to be, at least now that he's trapped in a war. Why give them any other ideas?)
That. (Normally Dick would try to say no, or try to convince Nix to let him pay his own way, he could afford it and all, but tonight:) Where should we go? I'm in the mood for anything.
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[ His dumb serious face is the first thing that Nix started to get stuck on. He couldn't resist a man like Dick, a ginger angel with the humour of the devil. Part of him is incredibly glad that he was chosen and not someone else. It gives him a sense of bonding.
When Dick doesn't argue ( he always argues ), Nix's smile goes wide and utterly pleased. ] There's a nice pizza place a couple of block's over. Heard some of the guys talk about it. [ And it's not too fancy, which has to help. ]
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(His face stays serious, impassive, but the quirked eyebrow gives away that he's quite amused. Someone who didn't know him well might think that he was being condescending, but by now most of the men knew him well enough to where none of them would react to his comments. They know that he's quiet, yes, but when he talks, it's because he has something worth saying.
His lips twitch a bit at the smile on Nix's face, he likes seeing him smile like that, he can never avoid smiling when he does.) Is that the place that Perconte and Guarnere were talking about the other day? The place almost like Mom's? (He remembers hearing something about an italian restaurant that had pizza like the homeland, as they put it.) That sounded good, even if I don't think I could do with spaghetti.
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You know they do things other than Spaghetti, right? [ Nix could probably put away a whole pizza by himself, with how he's feeling right now. ] If it's not your thing I'm sure there's some other place around town. I could ask a few of the fellas?
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You don't say? (Dick gives him a playful eye roll. He doesn't think anyone in Easy could stomach spaghetti any time soon.) No, no, that's fine. All I want is ice cream after. I heard they don't have that in England, if we end up there.
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You can have all the ice-cream you want, Winters. Sprinkles too, if they have them. [ Part of him knows not to flash his cash around Dick. It always makes him look discomforted. But the rest of him just wants to be able to treat his friend for once. And he doubts dinner and desert could really get him worked up. ]
I'm thinking pizza. I miss pepperoni.
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It doesn't need sprinkles. Maybe a nice, thick hot fudge, that's always good, but I'm just as happy with a scoop of pure vanilla as I am some crazy sundae. (The thought makes him smile fondly, as if he already has the first spoon of it on his tongue, and he's feeling more eager now about the dinner.)
We'll have pizza, then. Pizza and ice cream. I think it's called gelato in Italy, I read that somewhere. Maybe if we jump into Italy we can get some there, too.
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[ There's a spring in his step as he moves to where the showers are kept and he holds the door open with a grin. ] Let's hurry. I'm starving now.
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(Dick ducks in then, pulling his t-shirt off quickly then as he went to the cubby he had secured himself earlier to get out his soap, and get out of the rest of his gear so he can head into the showers.) I'm hurrying, I'm hurrying. If you starve I'll make sure they serve pizza at your funeral.
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Nix takes the spot next to Dick without thinking about it, soaping up with a hum of song under his breath. ] You better. Cake too. I'll put the ice-cream into my will.
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He's used to taking quick showers, at least, lathering up from head to toe with the same bar, his hair, too.)
What kind of cake do you want? Is there some upper class one that's your favourite I've never even heard of?
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I like chocolate. [ It's delivered so dryly, his elbow obscuring the crookedness of his smile as he rinses out his hair. ] I don't want any of that other crap clogging up your throat during your speech, you hear me?
[ Nix's tone is sly, playful. He doesn't really see himself as truly mortal, at least not yet. Even though they're going off to war and many of them won't come back, it just hasn't sunk in. ]
Though remind me to tell you about my tenth birthday party some day. My mother served canapés.
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Chocolate, then. With chocolate frosting? I'll make sure they slather it on real thick. (A soft snort is followed with a sigh as he stands under the water. It's hot, surprisingly, and no matter how good it feels, it makes him all too aware of muscles that are tired and aching. It helps, a bit, at least, and he shifts to crack his shoulder before turning it off. Might as well save some of the hot water for the others in the company. It's the polite thing to do.) I have to write a speech? You're so high maintenance.
(He grabs his towel then and wraps it around his hips after quickly giving himself a once over with it, stepping out and heading back to the changing area.)
What's canapés?
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Definitely chocolate frosting. [ He finishes up first. Usually Nix would be a fan of long and incredibly warm showers, but they have plans and it's not like he's going to stay under the spray when he gets time with Dick. ] You have to write a speech. Tell everyone how great a guy I was. Otherwise it'll just be dull, boring, old men in suits talking about how it's a shame for the family.
[ By the time Dick steps out, Nix already has a towel wrapped around his waist and is using another one to dry his hair. ] Tiny, gross little pastry things. Posh people food that's probably not actually food.
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I'll write that down in my diary tonight. (Not that he wants to think too hard on all of this, at least not in a serious fashion. Right now, the war, and the death that came with it, was at least still something distant. He doesn't want to have to think in honest about delivering Nix's eulogy. That'd break his heart.) Chocolate frosting, and the beginning of your eulogy. I'll invite all of Easy. Maybe Sobel will come and make everyone run Currahee as punishment. I think dying is an infraction that'll make us all lose our weekend pass for the rest of the war.
(Dick arches a brow slightly towards the other as he begins to change, pulling on boxers and then his service uniform, pleated perfectly as always, lest they give Sobel something to pick on, and it doesn't take long for him to be ready to go.) Sounds like a terrible thing to serve at a kids birthday party. (He frowns for a moment.) I think we had sandwiches at mine. Mom used cookie cutters to cut them into shapes.
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[ He moves to get dressed too, his own uniform probably less perfect than Dick's. But that's how they usually are. ] You mean like stars and hearts? [ It's clear from his tone he's never even been to a party like that. ] Triangles, Dick. That's how you take sandwiches. In tiny triangles.
[ Lacing his boots he glances over. ] Sounds nice though. What else did you do at these parties of yours?
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Dick affixes his hat atop his head, and then peers at him.) Stars and moons, actually. (He can't help but grin at the look he's on the receiving end of right then. Is it really so strange?) Triangles are boring. That's for every day lunches, shapes make it seem special.
(Dick sits so he too can pull on his boots.) We had games? You know. Pin the tail on the donkey, clothes pin drop, musical chairs. Mom always made my favourite drink, fresh squeezed lemonade with crushed strawberries in it and we got one glass each, and then she made a cake that had both chocolate and white cake, and even had real, buttercream frosting.
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He listens to Dick explain the birthday habit as he tightens up his tie and stands, watching him for a moment as he talks about the sandwiches, the games, the special drink, the cake. It sounds cute and it makes him ache because he didn't know the boy who liked all of that.
Perhaps, if he had, Nix himself would be different. ] Do you think I can hire your mom next year? Mine always makes me get a party planner but I don't know, moon sandwiches sound great.
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He stands again when his boots are done, and shrugs his shoulders a bit.) I'll write to her and ask for you. She was pleased you liked her cookies, even if she thought you were praising them too much. I bet she blushed when she read the letter.
Will I be invited to your party? I haven't played Drop the Handkerchief in years.
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Drop the Handkerchief? [ One eyebrow lifts in question. ] What's that? Courtship for kiddies? [ Games for children can now be added to the list of things Nix has no idea about. It was probably all parties for the grown-ups showing off how smart and classy their families are. ]
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Really? (As they leave the building, Dick glances at him, the surprise plain to see on his face.) You never played that either? Jeez, what did you do at your parties for fun? (He frowns just a little.) Sort of? (Already Dick's cheeks start to take on a slight tint of pink.) It's a game. Everyone stands in a circle facing the centre, and then there's one person outside with a handkerchief circling around it. The players in the circle have to keep their gaze in to the middle, and the person on the outside is supposed to drop the handkerchief behind someone. When that person realises it's been dropped, they have to chase after the person who dropped it back to the open space, and whoever gets there first wins? But if you catch them you're supposed to tag them, and they're stuck on the outside again. (And now his cheeks are a bright pink.) It's how I got my first kiss. The girl was taller than me and caught me, and kissed me. And everyone laughed.
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At the question of his childhood parties he shrugs and then grins like a shark when he sees the flush of colour on his friend's cheeks. It's an appealing look for him, and one Nix is already fond of when he gets down to the nitty gritty of liking him. ]
You had to be caught for your first kiss? God, you're so adorable it's making me sick.
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