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~ One ~ Klaus’ 1st Day in Vietnam ~
Dave Katz is a lot of things. A good card player, a bad soldier, a lapsed Jew, and a flaming queer, just to name a few. He’s also friendly to a fault, though, even when he knows it’ll only get him in trouble. So when he sees that the new guy -the one who showed up beat to hell and naked- looks a little confused, he knows he’s going to try and help him out. He doesn’t get the chance until the next morning on the bus, as they’re shuttled back to main camp, at which point the naked man is now dressed in mismatched gear and jittering his leg up and down with frantic energy.
“Just get in country?” He asks, settling down across the aisle.
The man looks up, startled, and nods, his large, dark eyes holding an almost manic glint. “Oh, uh, yeah,” he stutters.
“Yeah, shits crazy, I know,” Dave says, flashing the All-American smile his momma used to tell him girls would go nuts for. “You’ll adjust.” He holds out a hand. “I’m Dave.”
He doesn’t know what makes him use his first name instead of Katz because soldiers just don’t use their first name out here- it’s too personal of a thing to hear shouted in hell. He regrets it almost instantly but before he can pull back, the skinny, shaggy man holds out his hand and responds in kind.
“Klaus.”
They shake for maybe a second too long before Klaus coughs and folds up on himself, one hand moving to his mouth where he chews on his nail. “Hargreeves, actually. Klaus Hargreeves. That name... ring a bell for you?”
Dave shakes his head. “Don’t think so. Have we met before?” He knows they haven’t, because he’d never forget somebody like Klaus. But the man has a scared look on his face, so Dave says the first thing that comes to mind. “Oh, right! Spring break, 1964? Miami Beach?” It works and Klaus starts laughing, a high and giddy sound that makes Dave itch to tell every joke he’s ever heard.
“No, we’ve never met,” Klaus finally says, before scooting over in his seat.
“I’m Dave Katz,” Dave offers as he slides into the empty spot besides Klaus. “I’m, uh, two months into a year tour.”
Klaus takes a break from worrying his thumb to smirk. “You sound thrilled to be here.”
Dave shrugs. “I’m a draft victim, but, uh, I’m here now, you know? I’m just trying to make the best of it,” he mutters.
“Ha! Very admirable, Dave. So, um... where is here exactly?” He peers out the window at the country side, taking in the rice fields like he’d never seen them before.
“The A Shau Valley?” Dave offers, confused. “Did you... not read your orders?”
Klaus lets his head clunk against the dirty window pane. “To be honest, Dave, the past few days have kind’ve been a blur.”
Dave claps Klaus on the shoulder and his skin feels hot to the touch. He isn’t sure if that’s just his imagination or if Klaus is running a fever but he doesn’t mention it. “Well, time to ruck up, soldier,” he commands, both teasing and encouraging at the same time.
“Ruck up?” Klaus repeats, eyebrows dipping into a little ‘V’ of confusion.
“You know, get moving?” Dave questions. “Pull on your ruck sack and start marching? Did they not say that to you in basic?”
Klaus makes a dismissive gesture. “Oh, right. Ruck up. ‘Cause I’m... a soldier now. Well, slap me in a blue dress and call me Monica.”
“...what?”
“‘Cause I’m about to get fucked? Oh. 1968. Never mind.”
~ Two ~ Klaus’ 4th Day in Vietnam ~
The next few days show how utterly unprepared Klaus is for combat.
Despite handling guns with a comfort that only comes from years of training, Klaus holds his service rifle like he’s never even seen the model before, let alone gone through three months of training with it. He needs Dave to prompt him along at every point of the day -roll call, mess, duty roster, patrol- or else he’ll just stand around with a confused look on his face. Yet he seems to be well versed, if out of practice, in basic hand-to-hand, first aid, and even electrics and mechanics. On their fourth night in camp, though, he seems even more... off than usual.
He’s sitting on his cot, rocking slightly and picking at his hands, his hair, his face with quick moving fingers, wincing at nothing and snapping a piece of bubble gum like it had personally offended him. Dave approaches him slowly and holds out a deck of cards in offering.
“If I ask you to play war,” he says, tone wry, “will you think I’m being facetious?”
“I don’t even know what facetious means,” Klaus quips, light tone contrasted by his bloodshot eyes.
Dave smiles and rattles his half empty pack of Camels in his other hand. “Come on, we’ll play for smokes.”
Klaus rolls his eyes. “I’m all out,” he informs him.
“Then I’ll spot you.”
They play three games and even though it’s a game of chance and not something challenging, Dave can feel the familiar actions of shuffling and drawing and dealing out the cards soothing his nerves. It doesn’t seem to have the same effect on Klaus, who still looks ready to jitter straight out of his skin. And then, while Dave is handing Klaus some cards, their fingers touch.
“Jesus, Klaus,” he yelps, because if his skin had been warm on the bus a few days ago, now it’s on fire. “You sick?”
“No, no, I’m fine,” Klaus says, batting away Dave’s attempt to feel his forehead.
Dave shakes his head. “You’re obviously not. What’s going on?”
Klaus laughs, dark and bitter, and even after only five days of knowing the man, Dave already knows that that sound doesn’t belong in Klaus’ mouth. The skinny man reaches out for another cigarette -his fourth since they’ve sat down- and lights it with a quick, practiced flick of his wrist and- oh.
That makes sense.
“Oh. You’ve gone black on grass, huh?” He asks, wincing in sympathy.
“Gone black on grass?” Klaus parrots, eyes seemingly stuck on something over Dave’s shoulder. “I don’t-?”
“Ran out of pot, I mean,” Dave says, even though he thinks it’s pretty clear what he’d meant. For someone as hip as Klaus seems to be, the guy doesn’t use a lot of slang.
The dark haired man snorts and puts his head between his knees. “Something like that. Only had a few days worth in my coat pocket. I’d trade my left nut for a refill. A drink, a pill; hell, I’d settle for a vape pen right about now.”
“I, uh, don’t know what that last thing is,” he comments quietly. “But you said a drink would help, right?” He scoops up his cards and grabs ahold of Klaus by the elbow, tugging the man gently.
“Where’re we going?” Klaus mutters despondently, following Dave on shaky feet.
Dave shrugs. “I got some pals. I’m assuming you don’t have any money?”
Klaus giggles again and Dave laughs back as they make their way across the darkening camp to the mess tent. It’s supposed to be closed but there’re always a few card games going on and he’s looking for one game in particular...
“Heya, Manger,” Dave greets, all smiles and charm.
Manger, a snarl toothed man with mischievous eyes, looks up and crows in delight. “Digity Dave! What’s brought you my way?
Dave carefully keeps himself between Klaus and the crowd. “I was hoping I could join for a game. You got the usual stakes up?” He holds up his last five in offering and waits-
“Sure!” Manger says and pats the milk crate beside him. “But I thought old Katz was too straight for my moonshine. Finally loosening up?”
Dave shrugs and settles in and, when he sits, Klaus copies the movement, dropping to the dirty ground beside him with a confused look on his face. The game is a familiar one, a variation of poker that Dave has played a hundred times and soon, it’s down to him and Wolfe, a large bottle of Manger’s disgusting toilet water moonshine between them.
Dave considers his hand briefly. If he plays his queen of spades, he’ll win... unless Wolfe has the king of spades. He hesitates and then remembers the shaking, nervous wreck of a man at his side and decides to go for it-
“Don’t play that one,” Klaus says, catching Dave’s wrist as he goes to pull his queen free.
Manger chuckles and some of the other guys gripe about no help while Dave frowns. “But-”
“Trust me.” Klaus stares up at Dave with his large, dark eyes and, well, Dave’s never felt the way he does in this moment, Klaus’ hand on his wrist and his eyes boring into Dave’s with purpose. “Play the one to the left.”
“Okay,” Dave says, for... reasons.
So he plays the six of hearts like Klaus instructs and- “Damn,” Wolfe hisses, throwing down his king of spades.
Dave grins and the rush of victory sweeps through him. But it has nothing on the rush he feels when Klaus wraps his skinny, clammy, fever hot arms around Dave and giggles gleefully. “That’s my man, Dave!”
An hour later, when Klaus is drunk and sleepy and has stopped staring so suspiciously at shadows, Dave will replay those words over and over again until it’s what he hears in his dreams.
~ Three ~ Klaus’ 17th Day in Vietnam ~
The 173rd is, for the most part, a close bunch of guys. Nobody makes fun of White for sucking his thumb in his sleep or reports Boyle for sneaking off with the Vietnamese woman who delivers their milk and, when Klaus falls into their laps like a twentieth century Oscar Wilde, none of the other men comment on his obvious and flamboyant queerness.
Dave doesn’t know if Klaus even notices this. He gets the impression that Klaus is actually toning himself down- which leaves Dave both itching to know more and slightly fearful for the situations that Klaus probably finds himself in amongst less... accommodating company.
It does come up eventually, though, like Dave knew it would.
Six of them are stacking crates of MRE’s from one truck to another and Klaus is regaling them with one of his disjointed, break neck stories from home. “And then Allison is all, ‘Diego, put the violin down,’ and Diego is like, ‘she won’t mind,’ even though we all know that she totally will so I-”
“At attention, boys!”
Five of the six of them snap to attention but Klaus... “Shit.” Klaus keeps talking.
“-so I grab Vanya by the arm and Ben by the neck and make like the Flash ‘cause I know Dad is just around the corner and-”
“Klaus!” Dave hisses, reaching over to tug Klaus into reality. “It’s a captain, shut up!”
The skinny man stares at Dave blankly before he falls into line with the other guys, looking more bored than anything. Captain Peterson eyes him in bewilderment before stepping forward and clearing his throat. “What’s your name, solider?”
“Klaus,” he offers with a smile.
Captain Peterson blinks once, slowly. “Is that... your last name?” He clarifies.
“Oh,” Klaus frowns. “No, that’s Hargreeves. Am I in trouble?”
Dave feels the urge to bury his head in his hands, a desire that Klaus is exceedingly good at bringing out in him. Captain Peterson looks Klaus up and down before directing his gaze skyward. “I told them not to send me any more rainbows.”
“Excuse me?” Klaus asks, posture stiffening.
Captain Peterson looks pained. “As if we don’t have enough troubles out here, now they’re sending me you fucking rainbows and calling you soldiers.”
Klaus’ face goes blank. “I didn’t ask to be sent here,” he hisses, voice low.
“And I didn’t ask for you,” Captain Peterson retorts. “You got somebody keeping track of you or are you just stumbling around fucking my camp up?”
Klaus looks set to blow so Dave steps smoothly between the two men. “I got him, Cap, we’re all good here.”
“I doubt it,” the officer says but spins and walks away without further comment.
The other four soldiers share a look but go back to their work and Dave takes that as a sign to drag Klaus towards the tree line. The skinny man puts up a token protest but allows himself to be manhandled until they’re hidden from view. He looks... scared. And defensive, maybe, like he’s prepared for Dave to pounce on him.
“You’ve gotta be more careful, Klaus,” is all he says, squeezing his eyes shut. “The Captain is a tolerant man but that was blatantly disrespectful.”
Klaus snorts and starts fishing a joint out of his pocket. “And him calling me out for being gay is just acceptable?”
“What?!” Dave squeaks, looking around quickly on instinct.
Klaus rolls his eyes. “Oh, come on. He can say it and I can’t?” He starts pacing, quick strides back and forth, and Dave backs out of his path a step.
“No! No, you can’t just say that, Klaus!” He exclaims. “Don’t ask, don’t fucking tell!”
If anything, that only heightens the man’s irritation. “What? He can out me like that but I’m not allowed to say anything?!”
“He didn’t! What are you talking about?!” Dave demands, heart in his throat.
The jungle buzzes around them loudly. “So we’re just ignoring it? ‘I told them not to send me any more rainbows.’? I mean, is almost dying everyday not enough?” Klaus keeps ranting, but Dave cuts him off with a soft hand on his wrist.
“Wait, wait, wait,” he breathes. “Rainbow? That’s what this is about?”
“Yes! It was fucking rude!”
A laugh bubbles out of Dave’s throat. “Klaus, ‘rainbow’ is Army slang for an untrained soldier. Surely you got called a rainbow in basic?”
“...oh. Yes?” Klaus goes loose limbed and his stubbly jaw works at the air.
He laughs again and thinks, distantly, that he’s been holding onto Klaus’ wrist for too long. “Nobody outed you, it’s fine. I mean, I’m sure most of the guys already picked up on it, but...” He shrugs, hoping it conveys what he’s trying to say.
“And you’re...” Klaus looks pointedly down at Dave’s hand. “Not angry or grossed out?”
Dave chews hesitantly at his lip. “You could say that that’d-” Man up, Katz. “Well, that’d be a little hypocritical, yeah?”
“Oh.” Klaus’ dark eyes go wide and he licks at his chapped lips quickly, tongue pink against his red mouth.
Dave tries not to look nervous. “Oh.”
“Well, that’s- shit!” Klaus jumps and hisses. He flings his burnt down joint to the ground and jams his finger into his mouth. “Ow.”
“Wasted your smoke,” Dave whispers, smile on his lips.
Klaus smirks around his finger. “I wouldn’t call it a waste,” he whispers. “Here I was thinking my gaydar was defective, turns out I’m just... looking for the wrong cues.”
And then he spins on his heels and high tails it back into camp, sparing Dave the briefest of looks over his shoulder.
“Klaus! Klaus, stop! Did you just say ‘gay-dar’?!”
~ Four ~ Klaus’ 18th Day in Vietnam ~
The next day, Dave’s fingers are still tingling where he’d touched Klaus. He’s never met somebody like Klaus; so free and exuberant on the outside and so deep and dark on the inside. He wants to be a part of the other man’s life so bad it physically aches. He wants to demand an explanation for his... Klaus-ness. Wants to demand that the other man explain how he’s making Dave feel this way. Just as he’s working up the nerve, though, Monty comes bursting into the tent.
“Y’all hear the news?” He yells, practically collapsing against Dave.
He raises his eyebrows and smiles mildly. “What’s that, Monty?”
“I know you haven’t or else you’d be cheering,” he says, eyes dancing with mirth. “Every man in this tent is a single digit midget!”
Dave can’t help the whoop of joy that escapes him and every other man seems just as excited. Besides for Klaus, Dave instantly notices, who’s looking around in confusion. He seems ready enough to smile about whatever the other guys are celebrating but if he really understood-
Dave bounces onto Klaus’ cot and grins. “You know what that means, pal?” He asks, elbowing the other man right in his skinny side.
Klaus purses his lips in faux-concentration. “There are some midget strippers coming?”
“You’re ridiculous,” Dave says around his laughter. “No. We’ve got leave. I hope you’re ready to party.”
“Oh, I was born ready. Time to get turnt!” Klaus bumps shoulders with Dave playfully but the blond only shakes his head and laughs more.
“Turnt, huh? And what’s that one mean?”
“It means,” Klaus says, bending so close that his lips brush Dave’s ear. “That I hope you can keep up.”
~ Five ~ Klaus’ 26th Day in Vietnam ~
They drink, they dance, they smoke, they kiss, and then they fuck. Fucking isn’t exactly what Dave wants to call it, because it was passionate and sweet and tender, but he doesn’t think they’re ready for ‘making love’ yet. He likes Klaus, cares about him, but he doesn’t think they truly know each other.
And when Klaus wakes up the next morning screaming, Dave wishes he did know the man better. Knew how to comfort him, or what to say to stop him from reaching for the pill bottle with somebody else’s name on the side and swallowing three capsules dry.
Klaus catches him staring and curls up on himself. “I can’t... I can’t stop, Dave.”
“I know,” he says and rubs a gentle hand up the other man’s back. “At least, not here. The middle of ‘Nam is no place to be getting the shakes.”
Klaus smiles sadly. “Trust me. You do not want me sober in the middle of a war zone.” His tone is heavy and Dave knows better than to think that one night of- of this entitles him to answers.
“Tell me about life back state side,” he says instead.
Klaus tucks himself onto Dave’s shoulder and sighs. “I... I’ve got a whole lot of baggage.“
“Don’t say that,” Dave scowls.
Klaus rolls his eyes. “I’m a pansexual, non-binary, homeless junkie with more daddy issues than all of the Jackson Five combined,” he bites out, tone flat.
Dave squints and wracks his brain for some kind of clue as to what Klaus is trying to say. “I- pansexual? Jackson Five?”
“I’m fucked up,” Klaus reiterates. “My life is fucked up.”
“Just ‘cause it was FUBAR before doesn’t mean it always will be,” Dave whispers, heart clenching in his chest. To hear this beautiful, kind man say those things about himself...
Klaus leans back a little and looks up at Dave with amused eyes. “FUBAR. I hear the guys say that a lot. What’s it mean?”
“Fucked up beyond all recognition,” Dave explains.
“That’s- that’s-” Klaus starts laughing, that bubbly noise that Dave craves so desperately. “That’s fucking hilarious. And fitting. Klaus Hargreeves, fucked up beyond all recognition.”
“Klaus, that’s not what I-”
“-Not what you meant, I know. Just- let’s forget it for tonight, okay?”
“Okay.”
~ Plus ~ Klaus’ 39th Day in Vietnam ~
Before leave, things between Dave and Klaus had been good; all belly laughs and midnight smokes and flirty gazes over card games. During leave, it’d been a drug fueled sex marathon broken up by sweet kisses and whispered confessions. But after, when they return to their day-to-day life of missions and patrols and guns and shooting at strangers who are shooting at them...
It stabilizes.
They’ve only know each other for a month but in that time, Klaus Hargreeves has wormed his way into Dave’s heart so thoroughly that he can’t imagine a single day without them.
“What about Louisiana?” Klaus says up to the stars, pulling Dave back to the present.
“Too muggy,” he counters. “Minnesota?”
Klaus tisks and holds out their shared cigarette. “Too cold. San Fran?”
Dave laughs. “It’s gay enough,” he concedes. “But probably too expensive,” he adds.
“Hm... West Virginia?”
“West Virginia,” Dave repeats. “A cabin in the woods?”
Klaus snorts and props himself up on his elbows. “Ew, Dave, no. A cottage in the forest.”
“That’s what I just said!” Dave protests, looking up at Klaus. He’s so close that Dave has to go a little cross eyed to stare but it’s worth it to keep looking at the gorgeous man in front of him.
Klaus only giggles. “Is not. We could have a produce stand?” He sounds so genuinely enthusiastic that Dave nods even though he kind of hates gardening.
“Sure, a produce stand. And you can feed our... goats? Yeah, you’ll feed our goats while I chop wood.” Dave leans up a little and quickly kisses Klaus’ smirking lips. “And a dog.”
“A dog. We’ll name him something topical, like Stoney,” Klaus declares, returning the kiss.
Dave prods at Klaus’ cheek with his nose. “We can’t name our dog after the gay riots in New York City, Klaus, the locals will string us up.”
“Let ‘em try,” Klaus declares hotly, swinging his fist playfully. “I won’t let nobody harm a hair on my bae’s head!”
Dave’s feels his eyebrows crease down in confusion. “Bae?” He repeats the unfamiliar term.
“Bae-? Oh.” Klaus blushes slightly.
Dave smiles at Klaus’ uncharacteristic display of shyness. “What?”
“It’s, uh, something people back home say,” Klaus mutters into his lap. “An endearment. Bae. Beyond all else.”
Dave’s heart stutters in his chest. “Beyond all else, huh? Sounds like something you’d say to somebody you... love,” he whispers, voice probably getting lost in the sounds of the jungle around them.
“I do love you,” Klaus whispers back, normally playful tone replaced by deadly seriousness.
The air between them is electric. “I- I love you, too.”
Klaus giggles a little and then Dave has an armful of sharp elbows and khaki. They hug quickly, tightly, before extracting themselves from the incriminating position. It’s Dave who speaks first, fiddling with the straps of his gun. “I guess that means we’re going steady?”
“Going steady-? Christ on a cracker, Dave.” Klaus smiles so wide, Dave worries his cheeks might split. “You’re the cutest damn thing on the planet.”
“Well... you are what you eat.”
“Dave!”
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