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Time moves differently on Pavuvu.
Everything seemed to go so much slower. It is a welcome contrast to the constant distress Eugene had experienced on those airfields and rocky hills over at Pelilu, even if it takes a while for his nerves to settle even after they step off the boat onto the sandy beaches of their camp. It takes a while before he is able to unwind properly, but it’s not from a lack of trying.
He sleeps for three whole days after they get back, though he doesn’t feel all that more rested when he wakes up on the fourth day. It does not help that the first thing that greets him that morning is the sight of Snafu touching himself in the bunk next to his. And it probably doesn’t help either that, on the fifth day, he walks into their tent to be greeted by the sight of Snafu precariously balancing his trusty kabar knife against his own scalp.
Feeling his heart in his throat, he barks out a harsh, “What the hell d’ya think you're doing, Shelton?”
Snafu jumps where he is sitting on his cot, fumbling with the knife hovering right above his hair. He looks towards the source of the shout with big eyes, reminiscent of a deer in headlights. “Burgie said I needed a trim,” he answers quickly and quietly as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. Which in fairness, he had both today and yesterday, but for some reason he seems more embarrassed getting caught doing this than when Eugene had caught him with his hand down his underwear.
Eugene eyes the wiry curls atop of Snafu’s head. He supposes they’d gotten a bit out of control, though Eugene can’t say he exactly minded Snafu’s new look. It frames his face nicely and the way some of the curls just grace his forehead. The look is deceitful though as the bigger, longer curls made him seem almost angelic and innocent, but the fact that Eugene even thought to associate those words to someone like Snafu is almost laughable.
There’s a slight, uncharacteristic blush dusting Snafu’s cheeks when Eugene stares a bit too long, his posture turning defensive. “Didn’t your mama teach ya it’s rude to stare?”
“Sorry,” Eugene mutters and cast his eyes down to his own feet. When silence follows, Eugene dares to glance back up to see Snafu precariously angling the knife at his right temple and Eugene feels his heart in his throat once again.
“Stop,” he commands with more authority than he should. Snafu is technically his superior after all, it’s considered an offence to disrespect that but watching Snafu with the kabar so dangerously close to his head invokes this primal instinct to protect. “You’re gonna hurt yourself like that. C’mon,” Eugene says, beckoning Snafu to follow him. “Let’s do this properly.”
Snafu looks like he is about to protest but after a moment of contemplation, he puts his kabar down on his mattress and jumps off it. “I’ve seen children wield swords better than you wield your can-opener, Sledgehamma. Y’sure this is the safer option?”
Eugene presses his lips together, not dignifying that with a response before he turns to exit their tent. He makes sure to pick up some soap and scissors that are very conveniently placed atop one of their makeshift tables on their way out. Eugene has to remember to thank Burgie later for thinking of everything.
Eugene leads Snafu down to the waterside where they usually went for a swim. Access to anything but saltwater was in short supply and they couldn't very well use what little drinking water they had to wash they hair, so this would have to do.
“Go duck under and wash your hair. It’ll be easier to cut that way I think,” Eugene says as he is kicking of his shorts, not wanting to get sand all over his clothes while he is sitting on the beach.
Snafu pouts at him in a surprisingly childish manner. “If this was a proper barbershop they’d do this for me.”
“Don’t be such a baby, Shelton. Just go in the water and dunk your head, it ain’t hard.”
Somehow it ends up with the two of them sitting in the shallows of the water, with Eugene gently massaging the soap into Snafu’s wet hair. Eugene doesn’t exactly know how they reached this compromise, but he is certain that Snafu used dirty tactics to lure him into this. The smug, self-satisfied look on Snafu’s face only cemented Eugene’s belief that he had been tricked.
Still, Eugene isn’t going to deny that this is kind of nice. Snafu is humming some tuneless melody where he is sitting between Eugene’s legs with his head tilted backwards to accommodate the angles Eugene are working with as Eugene latter soap into Snafu’s hair. It feels almost peaceful.
And while it’s kind of cold, Eugene finds that he doesn’t mind because Snafu is radiating so much heat that it feels like it’s burning his skin a little when he accidentally bumps into the Cajun now and again. He misses that kind of physical proximity between them. After they got back there are no longer any excuses or need to press up close to each other during the nights in their foxholes like they’d done at Pelilu after all, but Eugene can admit he longs for the comfort of Snafu’s body pressed up next to his.
The foam and saltwater is starting to make his hands cold though and he orders Snafu to rinse out the soap so they can start cutting before Eugene’s hands stop cooperating with him.
“I guess I’ll have to bid my ears farewell now, huh?” Snafu says as he plops back down between Eugene’s legs carelessly, side-eyeing the scissors resting atop Eugene’s shorts to keep sand from ruining the metal.
It earns him a smack on the back of the head from Eugene. “Not if you behave like a normal person,” Eugene retorts and picks up the scissors. “I’m serious. Sit still or ears will be lost.”
Snafu’s hair is surprisingly soft to the touch, Eugene thinks when Snafu tilts his head back again, allowing Eugene to thread his hands through it. He does it again without thinking, watching in fascination how the curls wrap around the digits as he does so. It’s only when Snafu awkwardly clears his throat that Eugene realises he’s been gripping onto Snafu’s curls while completely zoning out on him for quite some time.
“Right, sorry. Cuttin’ hair,” he mumbles, embarrassed, and gets to work on chopping off those captivating locks.
It takes a while before they are both happy with the result, but in the end they’ve left just a bit of length to it, just skirting the line of being on the right side of the regulations for what qualify as an acceptable marine haircut. Burgie probably wouldn’t be pleased but they’d done what he’d asked so they both know he won’t comment upon it. It is like in school, they’d done the bare minimum to pass.
“Okay, rinse one final time and we’ll be done,” Eugene says as he wipes of the scissors on his clothes.
Snafu obeys and goes into the slightly deeper parts to wash of loose hairs. Eugene doesn’t pay attention to the Cajun before he resurfaces again almost right in front of him. Snafu shakes his hair like a dog, spraying water everywhere. Including at Eugene, who’s managed to keep himself mostly dry throughout this process up until this point.
“Hey, cut it out it’s cold!” Eugene protests.
The grin that splits Snafu’s face then is practically predatory. Snafu takes advantage of the slippery, wet sand underneath them as he slides up between Eugene’s legs so they are almost chest to chest. “Or what, Sledgehammer?” he challenges.
Eugene shivers, at the cold skin touching his and those simple yet complicated words. The whole atmosphere has shifted, suddenly becoming heavy with tension, and he looks anxiously across the beach, not sure if he is hoping that someone would come or afraid that someone would see them in this compromising position. It would be a sight to behold, he is positive, with Snafu resting naked between Eugene’s spread legs, their bodies only inches apart while Snafu looks at him like he is about to devourer him.
“Did’ya like my little show the other day?”
The statement makes Eugene’s gaze snap back to Snafu in bewilderment, because what the fuck. Snafu had wanted Eugene to watch him yesterday. Watch him be intimate with himself, listen to his wet pants as he steadily reached his tipping-point. Eugene had thought it was unintentional, that Snafu hadn’t wanted him to see and Eugene had been prepared to never mention it to him because they were all guys with needs living atop of each other in their cramped tents. He understood the need for release.
Eugene needs it too. Can feel his body begging for it every day and he would be lying if he said he hadn’t felt that need yesterday watching Snafu. He had enjoyed it. He’d felt the arousal course through his system and making him unable to go back to sleep again.
He’d wanted to touch him.
Snafu smiles as he gauges Eugene’s reaction. “You did, I can tell,” he says and places a hand at Eugene’s thigh that is coated in salt water and gives it a firm squeeze. “That’s why you invited me down here, isn’t it? So no one would see?”
Eugene’s head is spinning and he feels kind of faint. “I –,” he starts, his mouth dry at Snafu’s proximity, by his hand on his leg. So very close to his privates which are starting to show his interest in what Snafu is suggesting.
Because he can’t deny that he hasn’t entertained the idea, but it’s always been in the deepest, most hidden corners of his own mind, when the outside world had been as enshrouded in darkness and secrecy. Eugene isn’t exactly sure when the fascination and desire had started to develop but he is definitely feeling it now in its’ full force as Snafu stares deep into his eyes.
“Someone’s comin’,” Eugene observes intelligently in a whisper, worried but at the same time hoping to shatter whatever spell Snafu seems to have caught him in.
It’s true. There are sounds in the distance as marines make their way down to the beach. They both seem to freeze up, turning their heads slightly towards the noises, listening intently, as if trying to estimate how long they had before someone would come bursting through the foliage and catch them in this compromising position.
Snafu turns to look at him after a moment. Really look at him with those dark, strange, captivating doe eyes of his that Eugene can’t really tell if are blue or green. They seem to hold so much emotion and depth in that moment of eye contact and Eugene shudders underneath Snafu’s gaze.
It seems to snap Snafu out of whatever stupor he’d found himself in, but instead of looking away he smiles. A proper, soft smile Eugene has never seen on him before. In that moment he looks actually angelic with his big eyes, boyish smile and glossy curls, and Eugene feels his breath catch at the sight.
“Thanks for the haircut, Eugene.”
Chapped, dry lips press against Eugene’s, tasting like honey, coconuts and smoke. They are hesitant but pliant, and so incredibly gentle as if uncertain, giving Eugene the chance to pull away if he wants to.
Then, they’re gone as quickly as they’d come, and Eugene is left alone sitting in the sand with only a pair of scissors and a bar of soap next to him, his lips tingling from a kiss that feels like a promise.