Chapter Text
"What do you think, George?" Babe chimed while he nudged him expectantly in the side.
"Think about what?" Overwhelmed by a wave of somnolence, George succumbed to a heavy yawn before trying to shake his head clear from exhaustion.
"Captain Speirs," Babe continued, subtly gesturing to his right, "I think something's up."
He glanced at Babe, then to Eugene at his side who had a slight smirk beginning to appear on his face, which he attempted to cover up. Carrying his eyes over from Babe's motion, he noticed their Captain. Their grim looking Captain.
Sitting alone on the steps of a rather decrepit house was Captain Speirs, eating whatever insufferable excuse for food he's scrounged up. George watched as he removed his helmet, placed it next to himself, and adjusted his Thompson slung over his shoulder while he eyed his food suspiciously.
He looked back to Babe and Gene, a mischievous grin forming. "Lip is probably just too busy and had to cancel their dinner date or something," George snorted with a shrug. That earned him a wicked grin from Babe while Eugene slowly shook his head, looking quite scandalized.
From the moment Easy had arrived here early that morning, Lipton had been busy hustling about. He undoubtedly checked if everyone was all right, got them situated and made damn certain that Easy was as comfortable as they could be given their circumstances. George had only seen Lipton once, briefly, when he hunted down his Lieutenant to gift him with a hot cup of coffee.
During the drive, George had spotted Lipton and Speirs seated close to one another, Speirs offering Lipton a cigarette on a few occasions. He had accepted graciously, a small smile around the cigarette as he'd lean into Speirs to accept his flame. And warmth.
It was a plausible theory, George liked to believed.
"Maybe you're right," Babe considered. He looked between Speirs and Eugene, then enthusiastically turned to George. "You should go talk to him!"
"You should go talk to him," George echoed, he pointed a finger towards Babe.
"Ah c'mon," Babe pleaded, "don't you wanna know?"
"Sure, but what makes you think Speirs will talk to me?"
"We seen you talk to him before!" countered Babe.
"What, and neither of you have?" He looked between the two men who shrugged in sync.
George had spoken with Speirs on multiple occasions, he reminisced. His most fond encounter took place during the time Lipton had fallen ill with pneumonia.
When George had come to check on him one evening, he found them both under a large blanket huddled together on a couch. By the looks of it all, Lipton had passed out against his side some time ago, appearing more at peace than he had in days. Speirs had been about to take a swig from a bottle of Schnapp's when he noticed George and waved him over. He had sat himself down in an armchair across from the two, which creaked under his sudden weight. Speirs brought the bottle back up to his mouth and with a finger for emphasis mouthed shhhh before taking a sip, then passed the bottle on to George.
Despite being 'shushed' they had talked a fair amount that night. George had sensed an easy going atmosphere and broke the ice with "so where's your other hand, Sir?"
"Earth to Luz? George!"
His reverie was obscured by a hand on his shoulder that was rocking him slightly back into reality.
"Jesus Christ, what are you smiling about?"
George shook his head for good measure, then dragged a hand through his hair. "Yeah, I'll go talk to him."
Babe and Eugene remained near each other, softly snickering.
"What?" He intently stared down the two, Babe's face was turning pinkish from suppressing laughter and it didn't take long for one of them to give in.
Eugene turned to face Babe and began running a hand through Babe's hair, which left it standing at attention, then he whirled back around to face George. The hint was delivered, George started to pat down his tousled hair as he muttered a few curses and something about how it's always the quiet ones to himself. He still felt a little foggy.
"So long, fellas." George gave them a lazy salute and wandered over towards Speirs, patting down his various pockets in search for his smokes with no success on the way. He quickly turned around to shoo away Babe and Eugene who were standing where he had left them. They obliged, walking a few houses down the street and sat themselves beneath the town's central fountain.
Speirs didn't so much as glance up when George came to a stop in front of him, he just continued his reluctant chewing. After mulling over a few thoughts and a smart remark he fated for later, he decides to test his luck. "You look downright miserable, is everything all right, Sir?"
Speirs stopped chewing immediately, his brow furrowing for a brief second. George noticed a button missing from Speirs' shirt, the scarf he wore was hung losely and very uneven around his neck. His hair was slightly disarrayed, his fringe deciding it wanted to rest against his brow. Speirs' irritation was damn near tangible as he swiftly brushed the roaming hairs out of his eye, only to have them fall deviously back seconds later. Speirs sighed quietly, and George really wished he had a cigarette now to keep his hands occupied.
"I could be eating waffles right now," Speirs replied impassively, once again he began to skeptically stare at his food. After a few moments he continued, "but instead I'm eating this bullshit."
Speirs' unreadble expression didn't waver as he took another bite from his rations. He then looked up at George who remained standing in front of him, exaggerated frown plastered on his face but he was nodding in agreement.
He continued to watch George with his ambiguous stare, eventually righting himself and opted to stand. He held out an opened pack of smokes in George's direction as George was now day dreaming about waffles.
"Think we'd all love to be eating some toasty waffles right about now, Sir." George concluded while he accepted a cigarette, to which Speirs lit up after his own. He mumbled a thank you, Sir before politely, and perhaps a little quickly, took his leave.
George turned around after a few moments during his steady departure to chance a look behind himself. Speirs had settled back down on the step, exhaling smoke in a sigh. After rounding a slight bend in the street George looked around for Babe and Eugene but they were nowhere to be seen. He chuckled softly to himself as he took a drag of the Lucky Strike.
He slowed his pace.
Every man was aware of the stories that surrounded Ronald Speirs, after all the time that had passed since they originated he had become nothing less than a legend among men. George, more or less, remained indifferent to the rumors but enjoyed playing along.
Sure, he did just eject himself from a brief conversation with the man after he had offered him a cigarette, disbelief had tied his tongue over a simple thank you. This had been the first time Speirs had offered him a cigarette, however, the proverbial death warrant.
He took in another drag, absently kicking a pebble at his foot.
The temperature began to drop with the sun. George halted his walk and looked up at the sky, the brightest of stars beginning to show themselves. He smiled, this day was the most mild they have had in months.
George brought his gaze back down to the street, he noticed a 'closed' sign discarded in some rubble. The frail building it lay in front of appeared to be a once charming cafe. He approached its large window and placed both of his hands on either side of his eyes for a better look inside. He didn't know what he expected to find; there were some dishes left behind on the counter, some small tables and matching chairs, everything was covered in a fine layer of dust.
There's gotta be a kitchen, he considered as he smeared the word 'lucky' into the grime built up on the window. He thought about what Speirs had said to him, 'I could be eating waffles right now.'
His ponderings were interrupted by footsteps and pleasant chattering. George watched as Carwood Lipton stepped out of the building next to the once-cafe, clipboard in hand as he spoke through the doorway to someone inside. George stayed put and grinned, surely his theory was correct.
Lipton began walking in his direction as he concentrated on his clipboard in the semi darkness. George kicked another pebble which drew Lipton's attention, and received a warm smile from his Lieutenant.
"I'm alive!" George raised both arms up towards the sky as he announced this news to Lipton.
Tucking his clipboard under an arm, Lipton's smile had turned into a mock skeptical glare. "Are you, now?"
"I sure am!" George stated, rocking back on his heels.
"And when did you notice?" He thoroughly enjoyed when Lipton humored him.
"A few minutes ago, after I walked away with a cigarette from Captain Speirs." George took another inhale of the cigarette to prove his point.
"That was generous of him," Lipton spoke with a sheepish grin as George offered him the cigarette. He could plainly see as Lipton began to relax.
"Rough day at the office?" He asked.
Lipton merely shrugged, exhaling slowly as if he'd been holding his breath, and passed the cigarette back to George.
"Hey Lip?"
"Yeah boy?"
George leaned into Lipton slightly, glancing to his left and right suspiciously as if what he was about to say was strictly confidential. Despite himself, a smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Do you happen to know a place that sells milk and eggs at a reasonable price?"
Lipton let out a cheery laugh, he grasped George's shoulder and appeared all too amused. "George, what the hell do you need milk and eggs for?"
"Is that a no?" George wasn't quite ready to explain his scheme to Lip yet, it was still in its developmental phase, as of a few minutes ago. Without milk and eggs there could be no scheme at all, he needed to collect the appropriate pieces first, then share his plan with Lipton.
The look he received from Lipton was then wary. "George?"
"No reason," he shrugged. George knows that Lipton could pry the truth from him with little effort, he had to change to subject quickly. "Have you seen Speirs today?"
Perfect diversion, he thought.
"Not since this morning," he realized.
George wasn't entirely sure what was going on between his Lieutenant and Captain. From what he had observed over the last few months since Speirs became Captain of Easy Company, George deemed it safe to say there was something. They mesh well together, he believed; two contrasting pieces of the same ornate puzzle.
By now, George had all but forgotten about his cigarette burning away, and yelped lamely as it burnt right down to his fingers. Son of a bitch got me after all, he thought, chucking the butt.
"Does he cook?"
Lipton threw George a thoughtful look. "I've never asked," he hadn't considered Speirs in an adequate kitchen setting up until now, and he was having a difficult time trying to imagine why George would be. He smirked. "Honestly George, when was the last time you slept?"
"Hmm," George hadn't been getting much sleep, which wasn't unusual. He wasn't lying when he claimed: "I've been half asleep all day."
"Well, be sure to get a good rest tonight."
"I will Lip, you too."
Lipton smiled again at George before they turned their separate ways.
George had planning to do, but he was at least confident that when the time came, Lipton would be up for his role in this plan. He was chipper as he walked away, grinning from ear to ear when he heard Lipton call out to him from a couple houses down. "George! Do you know where I may find Captain Speirs?"