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Bob Wallace was never a man to back down from nerves. That's why he's here, in Washington D.C., preparing to preform his latest show in front of President Dwight D. Eisenhower at Ford's Theater. Surely to be a night he'd remember fondly; preforming for the president was no small deal, but there was something about tonight that had him tapping his fingers on the vanity in his and Phil's dressing room.
"You alright, Bob?" Phil asked, watching himself in the mirror over Bob's shoulder as he tied his tie. "Pre-show jitters?"
"Unfortunately," Bob admits, sighing. He pushes himself away to retrieve his shirt, buttoning it with practiced ease. "You sure the president will like it?"
"You're talking nonsense, Bob." Phil chuckles, tossing Bob his coat. "'Course he'll like it. Never had a guy or gal in America not."
Bob takes his coat, shrugging it over his shoulders and grabbing his tie from a nearby stand. "You're right, and you always are, aren't you?" He fiddles with his tie, suddenly forgetting the particular knot they'd chosen for this act. "Say, could you help me with this tie for a minute?"
"First it's a minute, then forty-five," Phil jokes, taking the ends of Bob's tie and beginning the knot.
"Oh, I must get working on those nine kids then, shouldn't I?" Bob retorts, and Phil laughs, and there's this warm feeling in his chest that chases away the butterflies. Phil pats his chest after finishing and leaves, and the nerves start up again.
Theres a brief knock. "On in thirty, boys," someone calls through the door.
"Look at that, record time!" Phil says, sitting atop the desk of a second vanity. "Wish they'd have put a television in here while we wait."
"Oh, we've got each other's company, don't we?" Bob gives him a light tap on the arm before taking up a seat at his vanity. "Always been us two, like you've said."
"Ah, well, I'm afraid to admit I've missed us being together all the time," Phil remarks. "My own fault, I suppose."
Bob taps his fingers on the vanity again, staring at his reflection. He forgot to shave before they left the hotel, and bits of scruff were starting to rear their ugly heads. He tapped his fingers a hair faster.
Phil picked up on it, though. "You sure you're alright, Bob?" He asked, sliding off the vanity to lean on Bob's. "Got something on your mind? Everything alright with Betty?"
"No, no, we're great. I suppose this whole event is getting to me more than usual." Bob leans back as much as he can without falling, staring at the ceiling. "This is the biggest gig of our life, Phil! They're gonna air this all 'round the nation. We can't blow this."
Phil suddenly appears above him, his hands on Bob's shoulders. "And we won't! Come on, where's your spunk?" He looks away, tapping one of his hands as he thinks. "You could use a pick-me-up. Why don't we go find where they're makin' the drinks and swipe some? Ease you up a bit."
"I'll take a drink, then."
Phil moves to let Bob stand, opening the door to let him through before following suit. Were they suppose to be out of their dressing room? Not really. But who's gonna tell them no? Bob briefly recalled a time where they tried stealing a bit of extra from the cafeteria at boot camp. Nevertheless, the sudden mission gained an air of secrecy.
They snuck around the backstage for a minute, searching for a kitchen or a bar - something that wouldn't lead them offstage. Nothing except one door, which seemed low on traffic and would probably keep their cover. Bob gestured to the door.
Phil stared at the door, suddenly grinning a mischievous grin. "Race you there." And with that, he took off toward the door, leaving Bob rushing after his tail. Phil opened the door, suddenly stopping before Bob had time to react, and before either of them knew it, they were in a stack and the door was shutting behind them.
There was a short scramble while the two men pried themselves away, Phil taking his time to brush off his shirt. It turned out that no, there were no drinks behind the door. It was a closet.
"Think we took a wrong turn," Phil jokes, moving past Bob to open the door and-
Rattle
"Huh, isn't that queer." Phil rattled the door handle twice more before giving up. "It's locked from the outside."
"That is queer," Bob affirms, pawing at the air before a chain hits his hand. He tugs, and the closet lights up. "Well, what'll we do now? There's not nearly enough room to bust the door open. What if we miss the show? God, then the president will hate our act, for sure."
"Oh, don't be so down, Bob." One of Phil's hands pats Bob's arm reassuringly, and some kind of engine lights in his stomach at the motion. "We've got time. Someone will have to open it eventually, and they'll get us out."
"Maybe leave our dignities in here, though." Bob leans on the shelving, a bit uncomfortable. "What'll people think when they find us in a closet alone?"
"I'm sure they'll understand it as an accident. Sometimes our childish thoughts get a hold of us, nothing to be ashamed of."
Bob looks down at Phil, and maybe it's the dusty closet air clouding the light, but something about him seems so divine in the moment. If Phil were a woman, Bob would kiss him, but he's not, and the thought repulses him enough to look away.
"Your face is red, are you feeling well?" Phil presses the back of his hand to Bob's forehead, and suddenly maybe he his ill, because his face heats up and he's suddenly worried he'll throw up.
"I'm, uh. I'm okay, thank you. Maybe we should focus on figuring out how to get out of here. You're always good in a pinch, aren't you?"
Phil frowns. "You've been acting strange all day. If you don't want to do the show, we can cancel. Just say the word."
Their faces hadn't gotten any further since a moment ago, and Bob briefly considers kissing him again, before shooing the thought away. He's not like that. "We don't need to cancel, we just need to get out of here." He pushes past Phil and bangs on the door, shouting for help before his friend tugs him away by the waist. Has he been working out? He's got strong arms.
"Someone will come along, all of that ruckus isn't necessary."
Bob sighs. "I suppose it's a slightly more dignified plan, then. If you'd prefer it."
"We'll be alright," Phil assures, and they still haven't gotten any further - they can't, really, not in this small space - and now Phil's arms are around his waist, and the thought of kissing him pushes itself to the front of Bob's brain, to the point where he's struggling to get rid of it. It'd be so easy, and no one would know! Probably.
Phil's arms don't leave Bob's waist, despite the awkward tension hung in the air. "So, you, uh, come here often?" Phil jokes, dipping his head slightly closer to Bob's to accent his words, but it ends up shooting a spark of electricity through Bob's heart. Bob tries to laugh, but he can't shake the nervous buzzing in his hands.
"You and Betty getting serious?" He suddenly asks, and that catches Bob off-guard enough that he forgets what he'd been thinking about.
"Oh, uh, maybe. We're not quite sure yet. All the movin' around for the shows ain't leaving us enough time to talk about it, you know that. What about you and Judy?"
Phil shrugs. "She's a beautiful broad, don't get me wrong, but I'm sure someone better will come along for her. I don't think I'm ready to settle down yet."
It would be so easy.
Neither of them make much eye contact or conversation for the next minute or so, though it likely felt so long due to the lack of things to really do. I mean, what are you supposed to do when you're stuck in a closet with a (really handsome) guy? They were doing the sensible thing, which was to wait it out. Someone would show up. Eventually.
Any day now.
Phil patted his hands on Bob's waist in a rhythm he recognized from their set. One Bob wrote. It was sweet, kind of, that Phil would be thinking of him of the show right now. "You were bugging me about settling down before I met Betty, but you've known we're not lookin' for that right now. What gives? Why've you stopped pushing?"
Phil doesn't meet his gaze, continuing his tapping while he chewed on his bottom lip, a nervous reaction Bob recognized from their old infantry days. It would be so easy. "Hey, uh, Wallace. What happens in here, stays in here, yeah?"
Bob hesitates before he hums in agreement.
"Okay, so if I do something crazy right now, you ain't gonna tell nobody?"
"What are you gonna do, then? That's so scandalous."
Phil pulls him close enough that their chests touch, and Bob can't really think straight anymore. He mouths something Bob can't quite read, and suddenly Phil's lips are on his, and he doesn't think to react at first; not properly, at least, and when he finally comes to, he pushes Phil away.
"What- what the fuck, Davis?"
Phil's eyes are wide like saucers as he stutters. "I'm- I'm sorry, Bob, I don't know what came to me. It just, it felt like the right thing to do, and that was a foolish idea. I'm real sorry, Bob."
Bob at least has the dignity to act offended. "You thought givin' me neck was a bad idea after you did it? You're even more a fool than I thought you to. What would the girls think? They'd be shattered!"
"Is that what you're worried about? The girls? What about us?"
"You're the last thing I'm worried about. You've got a lot of nerve, acting on something so, so sinful! In public, no less! Anyone could've walked in just then!"
"Maybe that's so, but I just wanted to kiss you. More than I've ever wanted to kiss any woman in my life. I thought that if I kissed you, that'd go away, but even after all of this, it hasn't."
"You've become a no-good sinner is what's happened. I can't believe I've considered you my closest friend until now."
"So that's it?" Phil says, and something about the way he says it hits Bob in the chest. "Everything we've worked for now gone because of some silly kiss? So what if the Bible says it's wrong? I love you, Bob. I have, ever since the war, and I know saying that might drive us further apart, but if I don't say it now then I might never get the chance. I want to spend my life- our lives- together, and I don't want to spend it acting like I don't want to kiss you."
Bob considers it. If he spends the rest of his life with Phil. He already has, he supposes. Since the day he enlisted, Phil has been at his side. He saved his life. That's why they're here now. They could break it off with the sisters and continue touring together, fooling around in the bedsheets of hotel rooms. They tell everyone they share a room to save on costs.
If it means touring with Phil, then maybe...maybe he could get used to kissing him sometimes. Maybe he would like that.
Snapping back to reality, Phil has this terribly scorned look on his face, and it's not a look that particularly suits him. "Well, not to bring this back to the girls, but if we- if we were, uhm...if we were gonna do this, we'd have to let them go."
"I know."
Bob grabs Phil by the shoulders, close enough that his thumbs touch the ends of Phil's collar. "Then I suppose we could, uhm...try it. The homosexual thing."
"The homosexual thing," Phil echoes, in a light, teasing way. His gaze lands on Bob's lips and his tone turns serious again. "Then it's settled? You're staying?" His fingertips ghost the fabric of Bob's suit until his palms rested firmly on his waist again.
"Yeah, I'll stay."
"Then can we kiss again?"
Bob swallows a lump in his throat, then nods, allowing himself to pinch the edges of Phil's collar and tug him forward ever so slightly. Phil gently guides him closer by the waist, until their stomachs are firmly pressed together. There's less than an inch of space between their lips before Bob decides to make the move and close the gap.
Kissing Phil again was much better than the first time, and Bob let himself think for a moment. His first thought was that Phil was a great kisser. Really, for a guy that had only had maybe one or two women in his life, he really knew what he was doing. Bob might've melted slightly in his touch, but that was between him and the Lord.
He didn't have a cohesive second thought, continually returning to Phil after every attempt. Maybe it was sinful. Maybe that's why it felt so good to kiss him, but it's certainly not why it felt so...right. Bob was exactly where he needed to be. Phil was exactly where he wanted him. Sure, it wasn't the most magical scene, compared to the beauty of last winter, but the ache in Bob's chest told him that this was what he'd been looking for. Why he'd been so avoidant of women and the topic of settling down.
Bob couldn't help but let his hands wander to Phil's jaw, trying to pull him closer despite the physical limitation. Kissing Phil right there and then was bringing out some kind of raw, instinctual side of him, and Bob figured that if the Lord didn't want him to kiss Phil, he wouldn't let it feel like this.
Phil pulled away, and Bob suddenly realized he'd hardly been breathing, sucking in oxygen before coughing it all up for doing so too fast. Phil seemed like he tried to hide a laugh at first, but it soon came toppling out before he could reign it in.
Bob shoved him, only lightly. "You're just all apple butter, aren't you? You can talk me into anything."
"Well, if you want to give me the credit, I'll take it." Phil's hands dragged slowly along Bob's back, eliciting a shudder. "You're real handsome. I think you could smooth talk anyone into anythin' with just those eyes."
"Oh, well, if you say so." Bob decided the shelf next to his shoulder was suddenly very interesting, avoiding Phil's adoring gaze.
"I mean it, Bob. You're a sight for sore eyes. I haven't been able to say that to you so I'm gonna say it now." Phil tried to reach Bob's eyes. "Would you do me the immense pleasure of feeling your lips upon mine again? Even if it's the last time for a while?"
Bob turned back to him, feeling utterly precious in his gaze now. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt anyone."
"Thank you," Phil says, and he kisses him again, and Bob wishes it would last forever.
But they've lost track of time, and the second they pull away, they hear keys jingle and enter the lock on the door. Both men scramble to freshen themselves before the door swings open.
The person with the keys yelps when he sees the two. "Mr. Wallace, Mr. Davis! I hope you weren't here long. Someone told me they heard shouting coming from here."
"Yes, it's fine, sir. We're alright. Just a prank by some kids. Nerve of them, I tell you," Phil says, shaking the stranger's hand. "Thank you, but we best be on our way."
"Oh, yes, certainly!" The man says, and he rushes off.
Phil looks at Bob, who is still standing in the doorframe. He holds out a hand.
Bob stares at the outstretched hand for a second, all of his worries from earlier resurfacing, but the moment he touches Phil's hand it goes away. Phil tugs him out, and Bob shuts the door behind him.
"This is going to change a lot," Phil says, pressing Bob's wrist to his bottom lip. "Are you sure you're alright with that?"
Bob shrugs. "Not really, but I'm willing to give it a try, if you'll be with me."
Phil smiles, then kisses Bob's hand. "Come along, then. We mustn't keep the president waiting."