Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anyone and I mean no disrespect whatsoever to the veterans of Easy Company and their loved ones.
A/N: Written for the HBO War-a-Thon on Tumblr. Harry and Kitty are often talked about because of the romance between them but they are hardly featured in fic, so I decided to dedicate a short one shot to them. Enjoy!
He's drunk, again, and crimson drips from his bottom lip as they walk back home under twinkling stars. It's nights like these Kitty's mother warns her about, tells her she should find someone else who deserves her affections. When Harry stops and sits on the street corner, tugging on her wrist to join him, Kitty doesn't object. She settles into the crook of his arm that's wrapped instinctively around her waist, his fingers sweeping in nonsense patterns across her hip. She gazes up at him; his focus is on the glittering light intertwined with the inky black sky, a crooked grin painted on his face. She takes in every detail, memorizing it so she can have something to hold onto once Harry leaves her for the war.
The very agonizing thought of him leaving makes her inch closer to him, her own arms encircled around his waist. She remembers when he told her he'd joined the Airborne and how conflicted she'd been at hearing the news, proud and completely frightened all at once. Kitty remembers the day her mother tried to convince her, yet again, to end their relationship before he shipped out. And here she is, sitting on a street corner under the stars with the man who'd had his lip split open defending her virtue. She couldn't possibly be more in love than she is now, and she hates that he's being sent away to endure long days and even longer, lonelier nights amid bullets and a terrifying enemy.
Her mother only wants her to break it off because she doesn't think a crazy bastard like him will make it back home in one piece, let alone make it back at all. But Kitty doesn't think like that. She knows he'll come home because he'll do it for her—he'll do anything for her. Her mother doesn't see Harry Welsh like she does.
Kitty presses her lips to Harry's cheek, leaving behind a lingering kiss. She feels the rumbling laugh deep in his chest and he looks down at her, grinning. The smile fills her up with warmth that spreads through to her toes and fingertips, and she decides to keep the image locked away inside her mind's eye for safe-keeping. They hold the attention of each other's eyes, saying everything—desperation, longing, passion, pleas for more time—and yet nothing at all.
Harry inclines his head towards hers, their lips inches apart. Kitty's eyes flutter closed, waiting for the familiar contact of his mouth against hers, but it doesn't come.
"Kitty?" he says, roughened voice purring in her ear this time, his breath tickling the tender skin of her neck. In an instant, it feels as though butterflies are dancing in the pit of her stomach.
"Hmm?" she mutters, eyes still closed.
"Will you marry a son of a bitch like me?"
Without looking at him, Kitty can hear the smile playing on his lips, the laughter in the tone of his voice. But she knows more than anything that the question is sincere. Kitty thinks about what her mother would want and what she wants and realizes they are two very different things. But Harry is asking her, and in the end, that's what really matters. Harry, for all his faults and imperfections, just wants her—wants her to be waiting for him when he gets home from the war; wants her to spend the rest of their lives together.
And that's exactly what Kitty has always wanted.
"You know I will," she tells him.
As Harry's lips meet hers, Kitty thinks it's nights like these she wouldn't dream of ever giving up.