Chapter Text
Eugene was born with a simple and neat 'Merriell' written curling upwards from the bottom of his heel to just below the knob of his left ankle. When he wants to look at it, he has to sit on his back and pull his foot up with his hands and awkwardly twist his neck around. When he walks, he pushes 'Merr' into the ground with every step.
It's not a great place for a Soulmark.
His Mother learns this as she worriedly peers through her baby books once they have finally searched out the fateful letters on her squirming son. “Not very auspicious,” she will tut, holding her boy in tired but strong arms, long hair loose from her labor and falling over one shoulder.
Her husband, having just been allowed into the room, is all smiles as he looks at his wife and second son. His good mood will not be dampened by such a little thing. “Everyone is different, Mary,” he says softly. “It may not be a traditional placement,” he allows, hand rubbing absently at the sleeve of his suit jacket, at just the place where 'Mary' rests beneath the fabric, “but there's nothing other than superstition to say it's less than perfectly normal.”
Mary Frank hums, books now forgotten on the side table as she takes in her child. “But what a beautiful name,” she sighs, carefully turning the pudgy little foot this way and that as Eugene squirms in his sleep. “Merriell,” She coos, “A perfect match for my perfect boy. Don't make me wait too long before you bring her home. now,” She smiles down at the babe.
***
Unfortunately Eugene would find at different point in his life that his Mother's words were closer to the truth than his father's. 'Not very auspicious', indeed.
When he was older the other kids would gather on the playground during recess and make up stories and games that made their worlds more interesting.
'Step on a crack and you break your mama's back', or picking the petals off a flower to divine which was the answer: “He likes me,” or “he likes me not.” childish games and rhymes that provided the excitement that the children craved.
It was not out of the ordinary at all that one day a girl announced to everyone on the playground that she had learned something from her older sister, a new secret knowledge that everyone would surely like to hear. The rest of the children gathered around as she proudly explained what she had been told, that anything you did to the Soulmark name on your skin, your Soulmate would surely be able to feel it.
This was revolutionary for the gradeschoolers in Mobile.
They would fall over themselves giggling and goading each other as they would try to plant kisses on the letters printed on their elbows or pull down the hem of their shirts and tip their chins to the sun to warm the names that crawled along thin collarbones. Girls would beg their mothers for soft silk gloves to cradle the names on their hands or arms. It became a mean game with the young boys to pull worms up from the dirt and throw them at a friends letters, or if you were truly mad at someone, you would try to hit them where you knew their mark was, an act that would have been considered much more serious if the offenders weren't children, but still saw more than one boy sent to the principals office for the inappropriate behavior.
Eugene was swept up with the rest of them of course, listened seriously to the wisdom of his peers and had a devastating realization.
Eugene hopped on one foot all the way home that day, too frightened of stepping on his Soulmate's name and hurting them with the slap of his heel against dirt.
“It's just a silly game children play,” His mother tried to sooth him when he refused to come down for dinner that night, refused to leave the safe comfort of his bed at all lest he accidentally set his foot against the hard wood floor. “There is no physical connection between your mark and your Soulmate.”
His Mother's words were said soft and calming, but the little boy was too torn up, tears still slipping past his eyes. “I don't want to hurt her,” he whined, absolutely miserable.
Mary Frank had told her son all about the girl that the name on his foot belonged to, and how he must treat her, and he was doing it all wrong.
She would tell him that Merriell was someone who would one day be Eugene's most important person, and in that same way Eugene would be very important to Merriell. As soon as the two of them finally met, Eugene would be responsible for Merriell. He would need to be strong and provide for her, in the same way that Eugene's Father provided and cared for his Mother and his Brother and Eugene himself. He would need to be gentle above all else, and put her needs and comfort above his own.
This was why Eugene always needed to be a proper little gentleman. He needed to listen to his mother and eat his vegetables and not make too much of a mess, so that one day he would be kind and strong for Merriell just as he should be.
Eugene believed his Mother. He wanted to do what she said, and be good for Merriell. So he ate his vegetables, even though he did not like the taste, and always listened to his Mother even if he might prefer to run away from her and misbehave, and he did his best not to make too much of a mess. He did all of this for Merriell. He was going to be the best boy there ever was, just for Merriell.
And so now Eugene refused to budge from his bed, left foot bare and propped carefully on his soft pillow. He had already tried to kiss the name, in apology for walking on Merriell his whole life up until that morning, but to his shame he couldn't quite bend his leg in the right way to reach.
“Oh, my dear boy,” Mary Frank sighed, wrapping her arms around her son. “Little Merriell is a very lucky girl to have a boy as sweet as you.”
“But I'm not sweet!” he sobs, “I've been stepping on her!”
Even though her heart broke at her little boy's distress, Mary Frank couldn't help but chuckle at the way that children got so worked up about the little stories they told each other. Scaring themselves silly over nothing at all.
“Come now, Eugene, you have not,” she tutted. “How should I convince you? Shall I get your Father up here and have him talk some sense into you?”
Eugene says nothing, but nods his head from where it's pressed comfortingly against his mothers chest.
***
Merry had a name on his thigh. But it wasn't his name. Or at least his Maman tried to tell him it wasn't. She said that it was someone else's name entirely. Which was just stupid and he did not agree at all.
Why would he have a name that wasn't his own sunk into his skin so deep it would never come off?
The name on his leg spelled Eugene. And so Merry decided that must be his name too. A second name, and not as good as 'Merry' for sure, but if a boy had two names it must be better than just one and he should be able to use either one whenever he wanted to.
This kind of thinking got him into trouble on more than one occasion.
“If it's on me then it's mine,” he insisted to his Maman for the hundredth time.
Earlier, his Maman and him had gone to the market to buy the food she was now making for their dinner. While there, she had seen an old friend and when she told Merry to introduce himself he had felt it was a perfect opportunity to try out his other name. And so he had proudly announced: 'my name's Eugene'.
His Maman had not been happy at that. She had in fact been very cross and slapped his ear before apologizing to her friend for her trickster boy's antics.
“It's not yours, cher, it belongs to someone who you will love,” she continued to scold, head bowed over the pot where their dinner cooked, her own small creep of black lines sneaking from under the corner of her sleeve as she stirred. “Stop being so selfish, now.”
He didn't believe his Maman about that either. His name was Merry, and her name was Maman, and so if it wasn't his name, than it also couldn't belong to some other person that he loved because he only loved the two of them.
But Merry knew his Maman would not like it if he brought that up again, so instead he continues to pout in silence.
“What you did was foolish, besides,” Maman turns to him and scowls. “How many times have I told you to keep Eugene to yourself?”
Merry groans and hides his head in in arms.
He did not like it when his Maman told him that, most of all. He liked to forget that she tells him that.
It was a subject he was sore about, and more than a little confused. He always had to make sure that name of his was covered. He was not even allowed to go swimming with the other kids unless he had on shorts that Maman was sure would not slip down too far and show that spot on his leg.
None of the other kids seemed to care if their names were showing at all. Most of them jumped right in the water full nude.
“But why?” Merry whines, repeating a question he'd asked many times before.
“Baby,” His Maman turns to him and sighs that sad tired sigh of hers and said as though she was imparting a woeful truth, “Eugene is a boy's name.”
“I know that,” Merry huffs and rests his arms and little head against the wooden table, frowning up at her. Merry was a boy after all, so it only made sense that the name on his leg was a boy's name too.
“The world does not like it when little boys have the names of other boys on their skin.” She sat next to her son with a sad look in her eyes.
“Why?” he asks again.
“They think it means that they will grow up into a man who loves other men,” she says, wrapping a sturdy arm around his little shoulders.
Merry scrunched up his nose and leaned into his Maman's warm side, now unable to stop himself from proclaiming, “That's stupid. I'm not gonna grow up to love anybody but you, Maman.”
Maman laughs at that, and scoops her little boy into her lap and holds him close. Merry presses a wide grin into his Maman's shoulder, happy just for the fact she loves him and is no longer being cross.
“Well, someday you might,” she says reasonably.
“Never!” Merry insists.
“Oh, my sweet,” she grins, and plants kiss after kiss to her boy's sweet curls, making exaggerated smacking noises with her lips. He giggles and squirms in her grip but keeps his arms locked tight to the arms that wrap around his middle, not truly wanting to be let go.
She turns Merry in her arms and looks him in the eye now. She needed him to understand that these things did not matter all that much. That just because there was a name on your skin did not mean there was no choice in your life. That it was not really true that there was only one person for you, and if you did not find them you would have no chance at happiness. “You might love Eugene, or you might not,” she says simply. “You might love a woman, or you might not.”
“Okay,” Merry agrees easily with a shrug, tugging his mother's sleeve up so his fingers could trace the simple lines on her shoulder that made up 'Josephine'.
She smiles at her son, but sadness lurks in the back of her mind. She wants to protect her darling boy. Keep him away from the dark parts of the world. The hate, the ignorance, the preaching. But she knew no matter what she did, she could only shelter him for so long. There was fate and there were Soulmates. And then there was choice and the hard reality of what consequences those choices brought.
She knew which was the stronger force.
He would learn it for himself, one day. She just hoped her boy would be strong enough not to be broken by that understanding.
***
“You cannot go off to War in your condition,” Mary Frank says sternly, trying her best to talk some sense into her foolish boy. “Are you even thinking of Merriell at all?”
Eugene frowns at the dirty tactic of bringing Merriell into it, but he tries to keep hold of his temper. She is his Mother and is only acting out of concern for him. “Mama, I am thinking of Merriell,” He explains, “and I don't think she'd be very proud of a man who hid at home while the rest are off fighting.”
Oh, Mama did not like that at all. Eugene can tell by the way she sets her jaw and digs her heels in. “Do not go off and get yourself killed before I can even meet my daughter in law, Eugene Sledge.” She orders him.
Now this was just ridiculous. Eugene sighs exasperated, not even caring that it was quite a rude thing to do to his Mother. “Mama, she is not your daughter in law, I haven't even met her yet-”
“Are you thinking of not Marrying sweet Merriell?” Mary Frank's voice is high and aghast. “How on earth have I raised you, for you to think that's acceptable in the slightest?”
“Of course Merriell and I are going to Marry!” he bursts out. That was not ever in question. Of course Mary Frank was stubborn and maybe a little dramatic and intent on keeping her son at home through whatever means she could think of. “But I don't even know when we're going to meet! I can't just lock myself in my room waiting for her! What kind of man would I be then?”
“One that is safe and whole,” She insists.
Eugene feels his face heat up at that. The unfairness of the whole situation. Ed Jr. hadn't gone through this when he enlisted. He had gotten a teary send off and a proud pat on the back, not the guilt tripping that Eugene was enduring. Not his Mother's pleading for him to stay home, all couched in being 'for Merriell's' sake.
He grit his teeth and tried not to let it affect him too much. He knew what he needed to do, and he had to trust in his Soulmate, and that Merriell would be ready for him at the same time that he was ready for Merriell. That's what Soulmates were all about.
***
“Merry, my boy,” His Maman sighed, brushing a stray curl to the side of his head, “Are you sure this is what you want?”
Merry scoffs and looks down, but reaches his own hand to cup his Mother's hand and hold it to his face. “It's better money than I can make here,” he says. He'll be sending it all back home to his Maman, so his little sisters don't have to work. So they can finish school and have enough to eat each night. Maybe Maman could even take a day off every once in a while.
Maman's eyes go sad. She understands what he's not saying. She doesn’t like it, but she's letting him make his own choices.
“There's not enough money in this world worth you, my brave boy,” Maman pulls him to her chest and kisses his forehead.
Merry basks in his Mother's touch and has nothing to say. His mind is made up. This is the best he can do for his family and he is going to do it.
Merry didn't think of Eugene much at all when he made his decision. He had long learned of what that name on his skin truly meant. That there was supposedly someone out there who matched his heart and soul. Someone Merry might meet and know and lean on more than anyone else in this world.
Or he would not.
Not everyone got to meet their Soulmate. And not everyone who did got to keep them. It was really not something someone should plan their life around. He certainly wasn't going to stop and consider some letters on his leg when making the choice to provide for his family. Such a thing was simply foolish.
***
The new Boots came into their shelter and introduced themselves. Snafu truly did not care. They would die right away, like the last replacements did, or they wouldn't. Maybe he could mess with them some and get a bit of entertainment while they were around, but that was the extent of it.
He only became a little interested when he heard an Alabama twang wrapped it's way around the name on his thigh.
Eugene, the young man had said. But with a 'Sledge' tacked on at the end.
Snafu looked up at that. He had met a few Eugene's over the years. It was a common enough name. Most of them he knew right away couldn't be his Eugene, even before he snagged a peek at their letters, or they started talking about sweethearts they had. Just hadn't felt right.
But this one.
Well.
His face was long and lovely, with soft brown eyes that seemed very out of place under that bulky helmet. He had the kind of pale skin that was sure to be burnt raw the second he stepped under the pacific island sun. Which was sure to be quite funny when the rest of him matched that hair of his.
Snafu hid his appraisal of Eugene behind his usual bad attitude. “Taken,” he announced, throwing his sandals on the empty cot, and watched the way a scowl crossed over the boy's face before he backed down, not in the mood for a confrontation.
Hmm.
Maybe this Eugene was not for him after all. Snafu couldn't imagine he'd be paired up with anyone who didn't have a little fight in them.
***
Snafu did keep an eye out, after that. Tracking Eugene's movements as he went around camp. Call it idle curiosity, or the fact there was really not anything fun to do around here other than torturing the new recruits. He did do some of that too. And was thoroughly disappointed when Eugene took his jacket off while scrubbing drums, and there were no letters of any kind dancing over pale arms or the back of his already reddening neck.
But still, his mark could be somewhere less common, like Snafu's own. And an excuse to watch that pretty boy was not such a bad thing.
Somehow, months passed, and he still never found it. Which was crazy.
There was really no good place to hide in war. He'd seen Eugene in nearly every state of undress. Snafu does not have the decency to be ashamed peeping on someone while they pulled their pants down and took a shit. No loop of letters on Eugene that he could see.
As time went on his was almost convinced that poor Eugene didn't have a name on him at all. It happened sometimes, sure. Not often, but enough. Usually protective parents took a needle and ink to their blank babies before they let them go through life as a loveless anomaly. A made up name was no Soulmate for sure, but it at least gave the kid hope and saved them from cruel teasing.
He might have not found his name, but during that time he had gotten to know Sledge pretty well.
War sure stripped away all the things that kept a man's true self hidden from the world. No privacy or politeness to keep other men at a distance.
He had gotten familiar with the way Sledge's bright hair curled gently against his ears once it grew out a bit. He liked the way Sledge would glare at him, when he told a joke Sledge found in poor taste, which was pretty much all of them. The way he scratched in that bible he kept in his breast pocket, like that's where those holy words belonged. Snafu would pretend like he couldn't read Sledge's careful scrawl, playing up the fact he grew up in a swamp while teasing Sledge about his indecipherable hand. But that was only so he could peer over Sledge's shoulder and look at the poetry he wrote. The stark account of what they'd seen. His pleading to that christian god of his about the death he witnessed, trying to reconcile the concepts of mercy and forgiveness with the horror of war. Sledge was good. But that didn't make him soft. Oh that boy was tough as anyone, refused to break, but he kept that light that made him kind, made him human, tucked safely away.
He found himself sappy with love sickness.
More and more the thought of his name being the one printed on pale skin made him sigh and feel heavy.
He hated it.
He knew it was foolish to even think. Kidding himself like this wasn't doing anyone any favors. He needed to quit it. Pining away in the middle of a firefight was suicide. The way he caught himself looking Sledge's way every time a shell fell too close was going to get both of them killed.
He just needed to find out what Sledge's name was, and let that be the end of it.
But what was he supposed to do? Submit himself to the mortifying ordeal of straight out asking?
Walk up to him all sly, 'Hey, Sledge, what's your Soulmate?' everyone knew only desperate fools did that.
No thanks. Snafu was not going to reveal himself in that way.
***
They were out of the thick of things and back at base camp. Eugene was taking this time to do as little as possible.
He was lying on his cot, bone tired and too hot to move. His shirt was off to combat the heat. Shoes were off for what felt like the first time in years. The air moving over his abused toes felt like the best thing there was.
He heard Snafu shuffle into the tent but didn't bother to open his eyes, just laid there and stayed quiet as the other man heaved himself onto his own bunk.
Eugene knew that with Snaf around the peace couldn't last long, but he sure wasn’t gonna be the one to break it.
"Oh lala," right on cue, Snaf starts to be obnoxious. "Someone's got his soul on display,” he croons.
Eugene can instantly feel his brow furrow in irritation and a phantom itch start on his heel, telling him to hide his mark from prying eyes. He refuses to act on that instinct however.
He had gotten all kinds of shit like that as a kid. Couldn't even enjoy wading barefoot in a creek without some smart kid teasing him about getting his Soulmate wet in the water.
He wasn't gonna take it now he was grown ass man, and certainly not from a punk like Snafu.
"Give it a rest, Snaf." He groans. "It's my own damn bunk and we've both seen worse."
Snafu, as usual, doesn’t pay attention too well. "Well what's the lucky lady's name, huh? Who's gonna make you a fine Mrs. Sledge one day?"
He cracks an eye open to properly glare at Snafu who is grinning ear to ear and looking a little wild around the edges, finally pleased to have some proper fun at Eugene's expense, no doubt.
Eugene is not going to back down on this, no matter how hot he feels his ears get. "No one's stopping you from taking a look," He challenges, looking Snafu dead in the eye.
He's a bit taken aback by himself. Eugene is not usually this forward, or crass. But in his defense he's tired and already annoyed by the unrelenting heat. Snafu seems to have not expected his bold words either, and Eugene feels some small piece of victory for the hesitation in Snafus green eyes.
Not that it lasts very long.
Snafu recovers quickly and something like excitement flashes over his face. Of course he does not truly care how rude of a thing it is to tease and ogle someone's Soulmark when you're no longer a child. "Well with an invitation like that, how can I say no?" Snafu grins.
He's too stubborn to retract what he said and so Eugene does his best to pretend he really doesn't care at all. He holds himself stiffly and resolutely does not pull his foot away and curl it out of sight when he feels the air shift and Snafu kneel down to read the small letters. Despite his bravado it was still something intimate and maybe a little shameful to just lay there while another man was looking at his name. What would his Mother say?
He does look up when the teasing quip he expected doesn’t come, Snafu staying oddly silent at his side.
Snafu is just crouching there staring at the name on his foot, narrowed eyes gazing blankly and mouth slightly open.
"What's wrong with you?" Eugene asks, now too nervous with this strange reaction to leave Merriell unprotected, and sits up, carefully tucking his foot out of sight under his leg.
Snafu watches the movement, then seems to startle out of whatever place his mind had fallen into and snaps his jaw closed, swallowing thickly. "Merriell?" he asks, voice very odd, like he was still very far away. "Your Soulmate's name is Merriell?"
"Yeah," Eugene mutters, absently rubbing his hand against the heel where that very name sat. "Why do you say it like that?" Eugene frowns, then feels his heart pick up, can't help but ask, "Do you know a Merriell?”
"You haven't met your Soulmate yet?" Snafu looks almost desperate. Eyes wide and intense. He was starting to worry Eugene.
"No, I haven't." He says plainly, “What's it matter to you?”
Snafu seems to come back to himself, expression returning to relaxed, almost playful. “Oh nothing. It's just 'Merriell'” Snafu raises his eyebrows, clearly mocking. “What kind of name is that?”
Ah, and there's the teasing he expected. Sledge frowns sternly. “Don't you start, Snafu.”
Snafu smirks. Of course now he can't stop. He sits down on his bunk and stretches out, keeping Sledge in his sights, carefully watching his reaction. “You think your Soulmate is a proper southern belle, Sledge?” He asks, all faux innocence.
“It doesn’t matter what she is,” Sledge makes a brave attempt not to be affected, to remain above it all. “She's my Soulmate.”
“Really?” Snafu grins, “So you wouldn't care if she was, say, a loose, swamp raised harlot?” Snafu tries not to laugh at his own joke. He might not have ever been called a harlot, exactly, but if he had been born a girl he knows he sure would be.
“I'm not gonna play this game, Snaf.” Sledge's cheeks burst into a riot of color as he glares at him. It's a game that all the Marines play, teasing and making crude comments about each other's names. Eugene had managed to stay out of it until now, something he had been thankful for.
Snafu's eyes glint and he curiously suggests, “What would you do if she had a dick?”
Eugene should be shocked at Snafu's words, but he unfortunately isn't.
It did not take him long to learn the lesson that nothing was sacred in war. Not a man's privacy, not his faith, and not his Soulmate.
He did not care for the bragging about Soulmates that the company men seemed inclined too. He for sure did not care for when the men learned about a previously hidden name and made it a fun game to see who could say the dirtiest thing about it. Who could moan the name the loudest. Disrespecting a woman who did not deserve it and a bond that should provoke nothing but reverence. It was disgusting. A Soulmate was a good and pure thing, not to be dragged through the mud in search of some cheap entertainment, and to say such things made Eugene's blood boil.
In these last months he had been happy for the first time in his life about where his Soulmark rested on his body. It was almost easy to make sure it stayed out of sight.
And maybe Eugene should have been more careful and not even let Snafu see it. It was foolish to think Snafu of all people would show him a little respect. But he has made that mistake and now he was paying the price.
Not that he was about to sit back and tolerate Snafu making Merriell the subject of this cruel game.
He bites the inside of his cheek to not fly off the handle. “Why don't you show me your mark, huh?” he challenges. “Then I can say shit about her, too.” Fair was fair, Eugene told himself vindictively.
“Aw really?” Snafu guffaws. “Little Mama's boy Genie is gonna make fun of someone's Soulmate? Like hell,” he scoffs.
Now Eugene's temper was really flaring. “You think I won't, you ass?” He turns to properly stare Snafu down. “Stop being a coward and show me.”
“I don't have one,” Snafu lies smoothly. He did not want to show Sledge his mark, just now. He might have dug himself into a bit of a hole with this conversation, and it didn't seem like the best time to come clean.
“Horseshit,” Sledge proclaims, then because the blood was still rushing in his ears, he decided he needed to back up his boasting. Be a mean son of a bitch right back. “Why won't you show me? Your Soulmate got a shit name? Or do you match? Since you're Snafu, is she Fubar?”
Eugene was ashamed of his words the moment they left his mouth, but he couldn't really find it in himself to apologize. Certainly not just then with the things Snafu had said about Merriell still hanging between them.
Now Snafu knows he really shouldn't let that comment get under his skin.
Firstly, that wasn’t even a very good insult.
And secondly, Sledge was (unknowingly) talking about himself. Which he was only doing by escalating a game that Snafu had started, by talking shit about Himself.
Snafu might be in a little deep without a game plan. His Mama always said he was like one of those dogs, chasing a car without a clear idea of what to do once he got it.
He finally saw Sledge's Soulmark, something he'd been trying to do for awhile now. It was his name. It was Merriell.
It's what he had been hoping for, this whole fucking time. A sweet brave boy like that? His Soulmate? He never thought he'd be so lucky. Snafu really should have pulled down his pants right then and there and shown Sledge the Eugene printed across his thigh, and the two of then should be doing something celebratory about it right now.
But instead Snafu decided to antagonize him? Start talking shit about the Soulmate Eugene hadn't 'met' yet? Saying things about his own damn self? Maybe it was the way his heart hadn't stopped hammering since he saw his name on Sledge's ankle. Maybe it was because he hadn't had a good nights sleep in two years and the idea of finding his Soulmate made his ears buzz. Maybe it's the sick turning way his stomach feels every time he thinks about the way Sledge first looked at him when Snafu dug his knife into the jaw of a dead man and pulled out gold.
He didn't know what was wrong with him, and he had obviously taken this too far. But was he gonna back down now?
No, He was not.
“Oh, the nice Catholic boy can talk dirty, huh? Is that the best you got Sledge? Think your Merriell is gonna be happy with your filthy mouth?” He sneers, ignoring the fact that Snafu actually found Sledge's dirty mouth very intriguing and something to be contemplated further.
“Snafu,” Eugene is warning him, face all red and eyes blazing. “I think you ought to shut up now before you say something you'll regret.” Eugene truly did not want to start swinging at Snafu. But the bastard was not leaving him any choice with the shit he was saying.
“Oh yeah? You promise?” Snafu asks, excited. The thought of Sledges hands on him, regardless of why, felt like a good idea right about now.
Oh, some part of him realizes, far away and still rational, he was in far too deep.
But Sledge gave a warning so he had to test it. “Merriell sounds like the name of an ugly bitch to me.”
Sledge is standing now, getting into Snafu's face, hands clenched at his side, spitting mad but holding himself back like the good boy he was raised to be. “Shut your mouth, Snaf, I'm not playing,” Sledge grounds out through clenched teeth.
Snafu won't deny he's not sure what he's trying to do here. Be an ass, sure. But there is a thrill running through him at how worked up Sledge is getting. His skin feels hot and too thin, stretched tight over his bones. He wonders how far he can go before Sledge actually snaps. How much abuse of Merriell will he take before he does something about it.
“Just wondering,” Snafu grins all innocence, “how many men you think your Merriell has fucked?”
Ah, that one, Snafu realizes as he watches Sledge's fist fly towards him, was what it took.
***
Burgie and Bill Leyden have the unpleasant task of pulling the two of them apart, having heard the sound of a commotion in their tent and deciding to investigate. Something the two of them probably regret.
They're both given a stern talking to by Burgie. Neither of them fess up as to what it was that had got them rolling around in the dirt with bloody knuckles.
Burgie gives up trying to get the story out of them after awhile, and they're sent to do dishes as punishment for fighting.
Neither of them talk at first. They stand there scrubbing away in silence, Sledge still vibrating with rage, Snafu gleefully working his jaw, feeling out the new bruise forming there.
Oh he was still riding high on finding out Sledge truly was his man. Not that he knew what he was gonna do about that. Bask in the knowledge, and probably not much else. What else was there to do about it anyway?
Of course, once he's finally cooled down a bit, it's Sledge who breaks the silence, offering the olive branch.
“I shouldn't have hit you,” he acknowledges, still fuming and obvious in his lack of actual apology.
And then instantly amends even that, “I shouldn't have kept hitting you after the first one.”
Snafu smirked. He liked the way his jaw ached. Now he knew first hand just how hard Sledge hit in order to defend Merriell's honor.
“I shouldn't have said those things about your Soulmate,” Snafu admits with as much good grace as he could muster. And then adds impishly, “Even if it was all true.”
Sledge is instantly ready to go for round two, throwing his sponge down into the washtub, sending sudsy water splashing. “Was this all just a good laugh to you?” He angrily accuses, getting right back in Snafu's face.
Snafu maintains eye contact while he peels off his rubber dish gloves and starts to undo his belt.
“What the fuck, Snaf?” Sledge's face might be blooming even redder than it was when they were fighting.
“Hang on, Sledge,”He drawls, “I want to show you something.”
Sledge's face does something almost acrobatic and very funny, as he splutters out an incredulous “What?!” Sledge stumbles back so he's not quite on top of Snafu anymore, as he finishes undoing his dungarees and pulls them down just far enough so the name Eugene can be seen clear as day scrawling over sweaty skin.
There's an electric kind of stillness while Sledge keeps his eyes locked on that patch of Snafu's skin and Snafu watches the way Sledge's throat bobs as he swallows thickly.
“You fucker,” Eugene faintly accuses once he's found his voice. He wants to hit Snafu again. He wants to scream, maybe, or just start walking towards the ocean and not stop. Eugene takes in a few steadying, careful breaths, then lets out a strangled, “What's your fucking name, you fucking punk?”
Snafu can't stop the self satisfied grin that crawls over his face. He sure does like it when Sledge's mouth gets all dirty. “After all that fuss and this is how you talk to your sweet Merriell?”
Sledge looks like he might explode. Snafu considers, not for the first time, that he may have taken this too far.
But Eugene doesn’t explode, or even try to hit him again.
What Eugene does do, is drop to his knees in front of his Merriell.
It's his turn to blurt, “What in the fuck are you doing?” Snafu feels keenly the fact that his belt is still undone and hanging loose in front of him.
“Marry me,” Eugene says without hesitation, looking up at him with dark eyes earnest.
Snafu very nearly chokes on air.
“Excuse me?” he splutters.
“You're my Soulmate, Merriell,” Eugene explains, still on his fucking knees, “I've waited my whole life for you, I will provide for you and take care of you until the day I die. Please do me the honor of being my wi-” He stumbles, but only for a second and valiantly carries on “-of marrying me.”
“What kind of fucking nonsense has your head been filled with?” Snafu breaths, face going hot. Did he have that rehearsed? He knew Sledge was a fucking altar boy but proposing on the spot? This was goddamn ridiculous.
“It's not nonsense,” Sledge insists hotly.
“Get the fuck up,” Snafu roughly yanks Sledge up by the collar of his shirt. “Someone will see you, idiot.”
Sledge stumbles to his feet and his cheeks flame red but the steel in his eyes doesn’t change. “What?” he snaps, “Do you not want to marry me?”
Snafu bites down on the instinctive 'that sounds nice'. And instead hisses, “Maybe you're forgetting something, Sledge, but that kind of honeymoon would get us court martialed”
The fire spreads to Sledges ears, but the bastard is stubborn and he doesn’t waver. “Is that a 'No'?”
Snafu is at a goddamn loss. “You don't know what you're saying,” He growls, hands still fisted in Sledge's collar. “We can't just-”He fumbles for words then chokes out “-get married.”
“Maybe not legally,” Sledge hisses back, “But-”
“What?” Snafu can't help but laugh in his face. “Is there another way you were thinking of? Think a church is gonna let you walk in with me in a dress? Or were you planning on being the one in white?”
“Don't be an ass,” Sledge glares, “I know what I'm saying.”
“I really don't think so-”
“I know I love you,” Sledge cuts him off.
“You do not,” Snafu instantly refutes.
“I know that we're meant for each other,” Sledge barrels on, “that if I don't love you now, I will. I know I don't want to be with anyone but you”
Now Snafu was the one uncomfortably stuck on his back foot. Maybe Sledge should go back to hitting him. At least he's knows how to handle that.
“Just because we've got each others names' on us doesn’t mean 'we're meant for each other” Snafu desperately mocks.
“Yes, it does,” Sledge frowns at him, “That's exactly what it means.”
“Puh-lease-” Snafu rolls his eyes. Of course Sledge bought into that kind of thing.
“Soulmates are the holiest things there are,” Sledge insists hotly. “God made us for each other. Made us perfectly for each other, and marked us so that we could find one another. It doesn’t matter if we're both men.”
“Sure, Sledge,” Snafu scoffs, reaching down to do up his belt. He's suddenly very tired of Sledge's dumb beautiful face, and this ridiculous fantasy shit he's spewing. “You go ahead and tell that to the MPs, see how they feel about it.” Then he turns to leave.
“You're my Soulmate,” Sledge catches him by the arm before he can get very far. “I'm going to take care of you,” He promises. “Even if we never Marry,” Here he looks stricken, but he goes on, “I'll do right by you and give you whatever I can.”
“Sure,” Snafu sneers and tries not to feel guilty at the hurt in those sweet brown eyes. Sledge was truly being an idiot. 'Take care of him'. Yeah, right. What time or place did they have for romance or love?
Yes, he had wanted Sledge to be his Soulmate. It had been nice to finally find that out, like he was given a gift he hadn't been expecting but had hoped for with the deepest parts of himself. But he certainly hadn't though the next step would be marriage. They were still soldiers, this was still a war, and things were simply not going to happen that way.
He looks at the openness in Sledge's face. The gentle hope lurking behind those beautiful eyes.
He panics.
“You can start by finishing up these dishes then, Soulmate,” and he walks away.
***
“I'm not joking,” Eugene breaths into the dark air between their bunks that night.
The fucking idiot had stayed to do the dishes all by himself, completing their punishment while Snafu fucked off down the beach and angrily took a nap in the sun.
“I'm going to take care of you.”
Snafu snorts in disgust and rolls over in his bunk.
“Just watch me, you stubborn bastard,” Sledge hisses at his turned back.
Snafu tamps down on the small thrill of excitement at those words. There wasn't anything soft here for him. No matter how steady and sure Sledge's words sounded against the false security of a night spent in base camp.