They had been camping outside, on the damp land with the tents as their temporary shelter to the soft and continuous raining.
Two men hear their colleagues outside, shoes on sticky mud and orders hollered on the air but they did not care for all of it.
They had been hiding inside one of the bigger tents. One that has drier land and leak-proof tent. The one where they keep the crates of supplies.
They had been talking in hushed voices and listening to each other for hours now, ignoring the shouts of their names from their superior, allowing themselves - to pretend for just a night, that everything is normal. Imagining that they're back to their homes - Arthur in England, where he would spend a perfectly good night with an even more perfect drink in his usual pub and Alfred in America where he would look at the sunset grazing his family's corn fields.
Everything felt like yesterday, fresh from their memories until they were snatched in their own perfect peace and forced into the battlefield.
Arthur did it to fight for his country. Alfred did it to make a difference. They had different reasons - all of them in here but all the same, fighting.
Alfred held on his snicker as he heard their Commander holler out his name and an angry tone. Arthur snorted as he pat his pocket for his last box of cigarettes. He put one between his lips and offered Alfred some of it.
Alfred was never a smoker. He swore to never inhale the toxic thing ever since his brother struggled with asthma attack when a dumb person thought it was fun to blow it off on their faces when they where little but when he was pushed to action in the frontlines, the stress and horrors of this hellhole, the nicotine seemed to do the magic. He picked up one and put it one on his own lips.
He heard metal clinking open to see Arthur open his lighter while trying to conceal the flame from the outside view of the tent. Quickly pocketing it as he looked at Alfred. Arthur once told him that that lighter had been his father's and gave it to him as a good luck charm. He laughed at it the first time to which earned him a punch from the other, from then on, he learned not to make fun of it.
He put down his cigarette, puffing out a small amount of smoke. Letting it linger on his lungs as it slowly comfort his nerves. He passed his cigarette to the younger, knowing what to do with it. He put the tip of the cigarette on his unlit one and inhaled, letting the fire move from one stick to another. At this times, they need to think of ways on how to save even in how to share a flame from cigarette to cigarette.
Alfred always think it would be better if Arthur move near him, with the cigarette still in his lips and connect their cigarettes together. Sharing an intimate moment but cannot be quite labelled as a kiss, of sorts. They both knew they could never risk, they both knew.
They quietly blew off smoke, making the tent hazy. Alfred learned another thing - sneaking. A trait that proved to be an advantage in fighting but also a way to giving oneself a little comfort once in a while. He grabbed a metal flask from the inside of his jacket and passed it on to Arthur. It glinted in the small light passing inside the tent.
"Oh." That's all Arthur had said. Alfred just grinned as he let it rest on his open hands.
"Yeah." He sounded so proud to something that could earn him demerits.
"I never thought of you as a sly person." The older uncapped the flask and took a good long swig of the liquor inside. It's been weeks since he had tasted alcohol and whatever burn his throat and warm his inside felt good to him.
"Who do you think gave you those extra tea bags?" Alfred took the drink from Arthur and took a wig himself. There are better drinks but this will do, well, at least for now.
"Those are shite anyway."
"But you still drink it."
Arthur snorted as he flicked his thumb and the ashes fall on the ground.
"Hey, we can risk the tent from being burned." He gave the flask back to Arthur as the older clicked his tongue while crunching the ashes with the heel of his shoe.
"Such a baby." Alfred just chuckled as he inhaled his smoke.
They took a few swigs, back and forth, between their nicotine sticks. Listening to the pitter patter of rain against the tent's roof.
Alfred shifted closer to Arthur's side, leaning against the box crates as he let his hand rest over the other's thigh. He heard a small hitching of breath from the older but he relaxed as he leaned his head on the younger's shoulder.
"What do you think will happen tomorrow?" He asked quietly. The flame of his smoke nearing its filter. He could get seconds but he chose to stop with just one while Arthur had been silently filling his lungs with his third stick. Damn, he really should stop that.
The older shrugged. "The same. Bullets, firing noises, shouting, men injured - probably down." He took the last swig of the flask that Alfred decided to give all of it to him now. "If we're lucky enough, we'll only be enduring the mud and a few non-fatal bullets. But that's wishful thinking." He sounded so casual as he told this to Alfred - like, he'd been fighting longer battles than their current one.
Alfred was never the one for serious talks, especially ones that involved death. He has seen countless men, soldiers, hit the ground as they mutter a praying on their last breath and be snatched of their name tags. He felt like he had enough.
"Man, all I can hope is that I won't be shoot on my face." He tried to be humorous, making the talk light as he nudged the other with his shoulder. "It'll be a shame to destroy my handsome face, since I know you love lookin' at it." He even waggled his brows.
He could feel Arthur cringe, his nose would do an adorable wrinkling together with the frowning of his equally adorable eyebrows. Oh, Alfred could already list down the things he would surrender just to see that every day.
"It'll be a shame, indeed." Alfred laugh but it turned to be a shock as the elder's hand found his, together with the words that followed it. "I do love looking at your handsome face." He squeezed his hand to which the other reciprocated.
"Then, I'll do my best to protect it."
Arthur chuckled, it was small - somewhat hollowed, a bit exhaust but still a chuckle. "You better, you still owe me that dance when we get back in England."
Ah, yes. That unfulfilled dance. The one that ended up being a promise as the pub became crowded and chaotic on their last day before deployment.
The younger moved to kiss the older on his forehead. HIs hair smelled of smoke but the remnants of fresh rain and tea still remains. "I do now, eh?" He let go of Arthur's hand to put it around him and completely closing the distance between them.
Arthur grabbed at his sleeve as he pulled the other. Their dying cigarettes forgotten on the floor as they cling into each other's arms. A few rustling and they found themselves connecting their lips. Moving with one another as they grabbed on each other's clothes, desperately longing for their touches.
Arthur was the one to push away. His breath coming short, panting, as his forehead rested on Alfred's. After a few moments, he finally found his voice.
"I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't- I'm a bit drunk by now-" He knew- they both knew that it's a lie. He scrambled to pull away from Alfred but the other kept him in place. He was about to protest when Alfred kissed him again. This time, softer, gentler.
"It's okay, Artie." He smiled as he clung to the other. He heard Arthur mumble a protest about the nickname but he knew deep inside that Arthur loved it. He kissed him again, and again, and again until the other responded and pushing against him with equal fervour. Hands to hair, to necks, to arms, to chests. Hands that seemed unable to find the right place to stay still.
After what felt like eternity of passionate kisses, they looked each other in the eyes. Clouded with emotions they did not dare to name as cheeks flushed from heat and lips glossy and swelling because of each other.
"Do you want to..." Alfred asked, leaving out the last words as he knew well that Arthur understood the message. His hands caressing the older male's cheek as he felt the other shook his head.
"No." His voice a bit broken and Alfred felt his heart grew a little sad. They had never did the act before. No. They will not risk before but tonight, with the threat of facing death - experiencing death first hand - he's willing to take the risk. Just this one night to be with the one he loved and he could die happy.
His train of thoughts was interrupted as Arthur spoke again. "Not yet, love. Not yet."
He wanted to ask why but Arthur answered it before he could even voice his doubt.
"After all of this is over, when we're back at home. And in safety." He looked at Alfred as he touched his face to which the younger leaned into.
"So, please..." His voice begging, pleading for the other and Alfred would always be eager to grant him anything. "...please survive this."
He felt his head nod. "And survive this too, Arthur. For me." With his left hand, his pinkie finger up and directed to the other. Pinkie promise has always been children's thing but he needed some assurance - he needed proof, that this one would be fulfilled. No matter what.
Arthur brought his own pinkie finger out, entangling it with Alfred's and even kissing their entwined pinkies. Sealing their promise.
"I promise." He smiled, a genuine and determined smile reserved only for rare occasions and even rarer recipients and Alfred's glad he's one of them.
"I'll hold onto that promise, then." The younger leaned again - with their pinkies still intertwined - he sealed their words with a kiss.
END