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Joe ran his hand through his hair, thoroughly messing it up, it was almost 3am and he had woken up from yet another nightmare. It never seemed to stop; Bastogne, the snow, all that blood. Each and every night without fail the haunted memories would wake him up.
They had stopped, for a while, when George had shown up. During the war they had never crossed any boundaries, per se, but they always knew something was there. When he had been lying in that hospital he had thought he would never see Luz again, then he showed up on his doorstep some months after the war ended and soldiers got shipped home and he had stuck around. At night when George was pressed firmly against him, soft and warm, he had chased the nightmares away. Yet they had begun to creep back in, slowly at first so that he didn't realise it.
He was thankful that George didn't know, he was able to slip out from under the warm covers and leave him sleeping and most nights he was lucky enough to slip back in before he woke and take the moment to truly appreciate that they were safe and away from the war. The slow and steady rise of George's chest would calm enough to continue on with his day without worry.
The coffee in his hands had gone cold, he was stuck staring into the endless swirl of brown when he heard shuffling coming from the bedroom. "Hey, Joe," came a soft whisper. Joe looked up and saw George standing in the doorway, his hear messed up and rubbing at his eyes as he held back a yawn, "I heard you get up, are you okay?"
Joe nodded, giving him a small smile, "Yeah," he whispered.
George came over and sat on the bar stool next to him, "Really?" Because this is at least the third time this week you've gotten up at this time, and that's only what I've woken up for."
Joe bit his lip, "Nightmare," he said simply.
George nodded in understanding, reaching over to intertwine their fingers together and they sat quietly in the dark kitchen with only the light from the dawn beginning to stream in through the window. Joe rested his head on George's shoulder, tucking his head into the crook of his neck. "We shouldn't mope around like this," George spoke suddenly, sitting up straight and jostling Joe from his position on his shoulder. Joe made a noise of protest and George completely untangled from him and moved around the small kitchen.
"What are you doing?"
He looked over at him with a large grin and Joe spotted him placing a vinyl record on the turntable that was tucked away on the counter as Joe liked to listen to music in the mornings when he made breakfast for the two of them. Joe couldn't help the happy sigh that escaped when the opening notes of his favourite song, I'll Be Seeing You by Billie Holiday, started to float out over the kitchen. George walked back over to him and held out his hand, "May I have this dance?"
Joe smiled and shook his head, grabbing George's hand and letting him tug him up. Once he was standing he pulled George close to his chest and they began swaying, "This may not be so coordinated," he warned, referring to his noticeably missing leg.
George merely shrugged, "One less foot for me to accidentally step on." He rested his head on Joe's shoulder as they swayed side to side whilst the music played, Joe's hand traced light patterns over George's back and his eyes slid shut.
"I love you," he whispered in his ear, he was never one for many words, but in quiet moments like this with no one around and the city still asleep he allowed the words to fall from his mouth.
"I love you, too," George replied, tilting his head up to catch Joe's lips in a soft kiss.
I'll be looking at the moon, but I'll be seeing you.