Damaged Love

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"That would be really nice," he admitted, resting his head once his hand as he took in George, a smile only growing. Just their proximity made him happy since he hadn't had that warmth for half a decade. It was easy to let all of his attention lock on his lover, even if the other's personality had made some changes - he was the same George in his eyes, no matter what.

"God, I love you," he whispered, biting his lip, "so much. Sure, we haven't seen each other for a few years but distance makes the heart grow fonder, thats what you said, right?" He confirmed affectionately. "I'm staying at your place tonight, perhaps we can make dinner then, yeah?"
 
George had gone through a lot in one day, and admittedly, the stress of cooking was probably a bit too much for him to undergo. He knew he needed a long sleep to put the day behind him, which had been emotionally and physically draining. That said, he also knew he had disappointed his boyfriend enough for one day and he really wasn't willing to upset him again by letting his hopes down, even if it meant exhausting himself in the meantime.

"No, that sounds good, yeah. It'd be nice to have a proper meal-- and my parents go to bed stupidly early, from what I remember. It'd be like having the house to ourselves. And... maybe I'll carry you to bed if I'm up to it. I'm sure it'll be easier, despite... the missing arm. I'm stronger, so... so we'll give it a go. If I fail, we can at least laugh about it, huh?"
 
"Oh, no need to carry me!" He urged, shaking his head quickly. "Actually - I mean, I would love for you to carry me to bed, kissing me all the while. That being said, I've been working on walking. I can get up the stairs a little better. That being said, it... does still hurt a lot. I can do it if I need to, though," he reassured, smiling proudly.

"It's been a lot of work, actually! I mean, I wanted to surprise you but I think it's jhst better to tell you now. I know you're the tough soldier boy but I got up the stairs," he teasingly bragged. "When we get our own home, it isn't going to have stairs. You'll just have to carry me through the threshold romantically."
 
"You have? And you didn't tell me in our letters? I... I mean, it's definitely a surprise-- that's amazing, Bobby. I'm proud of you, I... wish I'd been here to see you do that but-- but I won't force you to try again. A cute bungalow out in California sounds ideal, really. And a cat and some sunflowers in the garden and... it sounds too good to be true. Something will go wrong, nothing goes perfectly," he laughed lightly, the attempt at some dark joke falling flat the moment it depressed him. He did have a constant paranoia that something would go wrong, and the idea of their dream move away failing was one that terrified him. Trying to joke about it only made him feel as though the likelihood of something bad happening had increased.

"You know I'd carry you right now if we were alone-- not that I'm some tough soldier; I was rubbish out there, panicked the moment I heard gunshots."
 
"You're not a 'tough soldier' but that's because you're a good person," he reassured, a smile growing to hear the orher's praise. After all, the only other person who praised him that much was his mother, who was there to see it. Shaking his head slowly, he yawned wearily.

"You aren't a violent person, George. You're a lover, not a fighter and that's a good trait. I mean, we established as kids that I'm the tough guy, right? You're a sweetheart, don't let anyone else say otherwise," he praised softly.
 
"Not exactly useful in war though, is it? Being a lover not a fighter. It got me shot, Bobby. You'd never let that happen to you," he pointed out with a fake smile, setting the plate of food down with no intentions of eating anything else. He was exhausted and mentally drained, so tucking into food was the last thing on his mind, however hungry he felt he was.

"My mother said she had talked to girls about me, from the town. She said that when I got back was the perfect opportunity for me to find someone; I know she worries about that. She met my father and had children by my age, I... think they're desperate I get a move on," he began as he took a seat on the stairs, picking at a thread in the carpet absently. "I'm... not sure what to tell them; how to get them off my back about it, Bobby. I can't tell them I already have someone; they'll just press me into setting up a meeting."
 
"Hmm... well, that's certainly a predicament, huh?" He replied, tapping a finger to his lips thoughtfully. He wanted nothing more than to tease the other's family, have George leave little hints only for them to tell the truth the same day they started for California. He knew George wouldn't find it as funny. Side-eyeing the other, he decided to shrug casually.

"Well, on one hand you could be honest. Your parents are nice enough, they might not take it as hard. You could say you met some cute girl in Europe and that you promised to send her letters? Or, you could just tell them you aren't interested. It's your choice, you know?" He reminded before offering a wide smile. "You'll do great no matter what you choose."
 
"If I say I'm not interested, they'll pressure me into something. If I say I met a girl across seas, my lies will catch up to me, Bobby. I... I don't want to lie to them any more than I already have, I just... I'm sure it'll work out somehow. I just don't want to end up going on a date with a nice lass, you know? I'd rather take you out somewhere, I... suppose we can go into town tomorrow, just us," he confirmed suddenly, peeking up from his hands to offer a smile. He had changed his mind a lot in such a short time but, no matter how horrendous the thought of leaving the farm was, he wanted to make the effort - Bobby had clearly made an effort working hard for six years, the least he could do in return was head to town for something to eat.

"...We'll grab some lunch, maybe buy some new clothes. I could do with some new things, and... and it'll be nice, just us two."
 
"You've definitely... filled out since the last time you were here," he agreed, taking in the muscles that were outlined well in the other's uniform. Biting his lip with a smile, he let his eyes watch as the leftovers of food were carefully pushed away and replaced with two large cakes, 'WELCOME HOME' messily written on the top, clearly done by one of the children though the effort was genuine.

"It's marble, your favorite," whispered Bobby before rolling up, eagerly grabbing a large chunk. He absolutely adored cake, especially when his mother made it. He tucked in eagerly, though did cut the large slice in half to over the other. "I put on the frosting."
 
The unsubtle reference to his newfound muscles did make him blush, though he would be lying if he said he didn't want the other to compliment him some more about it. He hadn't consciously worked on it, there being no real time for him to do so - every second of the spare time he did have was spent worrying about what he had done and the consequences that would arise on his mental health. Hearing a compliment and seeing Bobby being so attracted to him helped distract him from his thoughts, if only for a little while.

"...There's cake too? Y'all shouldn't have, this really is too nice," he sighed, albeit happily as he set the plate down and grabbed a fork to tuck into the cake, humming in delight. This was an experience that didn't need to be faked, at least. A good slice of cake was something he had missed; a cup of tea alongside it, and the moment would have been perfect. "You made this, ma'am? It's delicious, it's my favourite cake-- this is the best I've tasted, for sure."
 
"Aw, you're such a sweetheart," the heavy woman praised, her hands resting on her hips. She was the spitting image of a 'proper' middle-American wife, that was exactly how Robert liked it. Offering the former soldier a motherly kiss on the man's forehead, she headed back into the kitchen as she hummed along to the radio, the quiet symphony that took up the living room being her favorite song. She 'knew where she was supposed to be', which was the kitchen, to Bobby's small grimace.

"It is pretty good, huh?" Bobby added to keep his anger low. "Better than the store-bought, that's for sure. I know it ain't good for me but I could definitely have a slice of cake every night. I'll miss this, for sure - probably the most."
 
"I don't think it's that bad to have a bit of sugar a day, Bobby. I really don't mind if you ate an entire cake a day, as long as you're happy. And I wouldn't blame you, it really is delicious - your mom's baking is always amazing," he smiled, the memories of having spent the majority of his childhood running over to Bobby's house after his dinner just to get there in time for dessert making him grin wider. His mother couldn't bake to save her life, not even the Greek desserts her own mother had tried to teach her, so George had always been thankful that his best friend's mother excelled at it.

"...I'm sure we can just buy cake when we get to California. Or we could try baking ourselves, it'd be cute, I think. We're going to have to learn how to cook anyway, we can't eat out every night."
 
"Well, I did say I've been practicing. It's just... not fantastic yet. I'm getting better, really! It will just take some extra time. I was thinking I might try some lasagna next? My father won't let me try cooking anything that has anything to do with the Axis so he won't even let me make spaghetti around him," he explained, sighing in exhaustion at just the memory. He was just as patriotic as any other American, especially since his own boyfriend was risking his life, but that didn't mean he didn't find the extreme patriotism displayed by his father annoying.

"We could try making cake, of course. I feel like the mixed cake might be a bit difficult so we might just have to do chocolate or vanilla," he admitted, smiling at the thought. He knew it would probably taste awful, even if he followed his mother's recipe to the letter, but that didn't mean it wouldn't be fun. Besides, his favorite part was the batter if anything.

The party went well, unsurprisingly. Everyone was in too high of spirits to let the little annoyances bother them, like when Bobby's siblings would cause a bit of chaos every now and then. Once everything was cleaned up and his siblings had fallen asleep, Bobby's parents said good night as they headed over to their own home to leave Bobby and George to each other outside of the other's parents. Letting out a yawn, Bobby had finished helping clean the table.

"Do you want to show off those tough muscles?" Bobby teased once rolling towards the stairs, staring up them warily. "I mean, you were bragging quite a bit before. I want to see you prove just how strong you are now~" He teased with a grin.
 
Even though the loud squeals of Bobby's younger siblings had only increased his anxiety levels and caused him to disappear from the welcoming party for several cigarettes outside, George was surprisingly happy to be home. He was reluctant to admit that he was back to normal, knowing the luxury of normality was never going to be his again, at least not for a few years. His PTSD and the trauma of war were going to live with him for a long time, especially when the physical reminder of his time fighting was a permanent feature, reminding him constantly of the failure he felt he was.

But the party had helped at least, giving him a little hope that things could get better, albeit only if he was with Bobby. It made him a tad more relaxed about the idea of California, being alone with Bobby and able to express his love for him without their parents around now seeming the best way for him to recover. He lived for their time together, so moving away to be alone with him was now starting to feel like the dream again, one he wanted to make reality as soon as he could.

"...I'm not a boastful person, I'm sure I wasn't bragging," he reminded, though the quiet smile on his lips said differently as he moved to pull the other up into his arms-- well, arm. It was somewhat amusing to him that he was able to do so far easier now, with one arm less, than he had when he had no injuries. In fact, a rare cocky smile pulled on his lips as he started up the stairs, more than delighted with being able to show off the strength he had obtained through war. it was the only thing he was remotely happy about as an outcome of the years away - other than the victory, of course. Even he couldn't pretend not to be happy about that.
 
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Letting out his usual snorts and laughter at just how easily he was lifted up, he held onto George's neck tight with rosy cheeks. Peering down the stairs to make sure the other's parents weren't following, he wasted no time into pulling him into the passionate kiss he was so desperate to have, pulling himself closer to George once at the top of the stairs. Since the party was over, he had no real reason to keep his happiness and love that had built up over the past five years. Once set on George's bed, Bobby quickly patted the spot next to him.

"I'm glad we're alone now," he insisted, squirming in anticipation. He knew better than to imagine George wanting to do anything too intimate despite wanting otherwise but that didn't mean he didn't want to at least cuddle close and finally relieve the countless nights he had spent clutching his pillow, pretending it wass George. He eagerly pulled the other into another kiss once he sat down, his hands easily wrapping around his waist. "I haven't gotten a single good night's sleep since you left.
 
"I haven't either, I... it's been tough for both of us. It's silly to say I'm the only one who suffered, everyone's gone through a lot. But I'll be okay, so will you. Just as long as we're together, right? I couldn't get better without you, Bobby," he reminded as he managed to lock the door behind them. He knew his mother hated him locking his door, often scolding him for it when he was a young boy, but he also knew that she would probably leave him be if he explained that it felt safer for him to do so. He did it for that reason, but primarily, he just wanted to guarantee his and Bobby's relationship remained a secret.

"...Are we just going straight to sleep?" He asked awkwardly, moving to lay down beside him with a flustered smile at the affection. "I... am really tired but I'm sure I can manage to stay awake for another hour if you wanted to... I don't know... kiss?"
 
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"I've waited five years to be able to kiss you again, I can wait another night if you want me to," he reminded, propping himself up properly onto the bed. He immediately wrapped his body around the other, burying his face into George's neck before offering it a soft kiss. He couldn't help himself from sniffling, wiping his eyes quickly when he realized how cheesy it would be to get emotional.

"I'm glad this isn't a dream and if it is, I don't want to wake up," he murmured before snorting. "Gosh, that sounded cheesy, didn't it? It's true, though. We don't have to make out, just having you here right now makes me happier than you could imagine. Hell, just hearing your voice is enough to make me tear up, you bastard," he laughed.
 
"It is cheesy, sure, but I'm prone to being incredibly cheesy, so it's nice we both share that," he grinned in response, his cheeks a bright red at the intimacy, though he failed to get too embarrassed about it. He had often gotten too embarrassed during these moments and made an excuse to get to sleep, just to prevent himself embarrassing himself even further if things did get sexual. After years away from Bobby, however, a little bashfulness was hardly going to stop him.

"I don't mind, Bobby. My parents could sleep through a hurricane," he pointed out as he wrapped his arm tightly around the other, pulling him a tad closer to him. "And... well, I want to. It's been years, Bobby. I... think we can at least try."
 
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"Well, neither of us has had proper practice in years... right?" He confirmed, his brows raising curiously as he moved to sit up a bit, his hands absently tracing George's face with a smile.

"I mean, you were surrounded and close to plenty of handsome men," he noted with a snort before offering a soft kiss. "Your letters were so romantic, George. It was like a poet had written them. Meanwhile I just talked about the farm all the time. How you didn't get annoyed by them is a mystery."
 
"They weren't handsome men, Bobby. I only ever thought of you anyway. If they were handsome, I barely noticed. And don't put yourself down so much, your letters were a comfort to me. I couldn't have coped without them-- and my letters weren't romantic. They were... fabrications most of the time, to comfort you, but I know you're smart enough to have realised that, especially when my handwriting changed. I'm getting better at that, writing with my left hand. It's... not that hard," he promised with a faint shrug, afraid that he was sounding too boastful about it, unable to accept any pride in having to learn how to write all over again when, in fact, he really ought to be proud of himself for adjusting as well as he did to the skill.

"I haven't done anything romantic in years, no. Just today, in fact. Kissing you was the only intimacy I received in all these years, which... was hard, I'm sure you know that."
 
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