A/N: Thanks again to K-yers for her edit :)

And as usual, reviews are loved

"George? Are you still mad at me?"

He still hadn't spoken to me since we finished doing the inventory. He had accidentally dropped a case of cigarettes on his foot and, somehow, blamed me for that. Yeah, well maybe that was because I had distracted him a little bit when I accidentally hugged him from behind. But that was because I had lost my balance and the closest thing to grab onto was George. So...

"Georgio..." I said, drawing out his name. "Am I gonna date a mute?"

Ha! There was a twitch in his mouth. Let's try this again...

"If I give you an unlimited supply of toilet paper, will you talk to me again?" I asked.

George didn't answer right away, and then, "I traded my precious Lugers to give you a handcrafted chess set. Not to mention scarred my life permanently for asking David Webster about what would be a perfect gift for you. And you want to give me," He paused dramatically. "toilet paper. My sacrifices will be paid with toilet paper?" He asked incredulously.

Wow, who could have thought that George Luz could be overly dramatic? I smiled and said, "Spend one more week on the front line and tell me if you don't want an honest to God roll of toilet paper."

He rubbed his face exasperatedly. "I'll never win, will I?"

"Nope," I said with heavy emphasis on the "p".

Before George can say anything, we hear Frank holler, "Hey, dumbass!" When Frank saw me, he added, "and his missus."

Oh...

Well, apparently David was right. Our friends already considered us an item. I just hoped my blush is not that obvious.

George groaned but then composed himself and said, "What can I do for my beloved midget on this fine day?"

"I'm not a midget!" Frank said. I think that that was the SOP of their friendship. George would call Frank a midget, or any variation of it. Frank would answer with "I'm not a midget", or any variation of that.

"Fine," George said with an eye roll. "My dear, vertically-challenged friend. Deal with it! Or I'll call you my dear intelligently-challenged friend."

Oh, I love this guy.

"I'm bringing you your mail, shithead!" Frank said, throwing George a stack of mail that George caught reflexively. George's face lit up instantly. Letters from home, when they finally caught up with the men, always boosted morale one hundred percent.

"Sugar reports?" Frank asked, grinning like a madman.

"Nope. You know that I don't have anyone to give me that." He said and then paused as if he realized something. "You deliberately asked me that in front of Becca, didn't you? These are from Mama Luz, asshole!"

"Yeesh," Frank said. "Mama's boy."

George flipped him off.

"You've got mail too, Frank?" I asked Frank. George started to rip into his letters eagerly.

"'Course. My wife sent me the picture of our son, Richard. Want to see him?"

"Sure"

George didn't look up from his letters. "Are you sure he's yours?" He got a kick in the shin from Frank.

Frank gave me the picture and used a dreamy, father's voice to ask, "Isn't he handsome?" I had never heard him use that tone of voice before.

I looked down to the picture and saw a baby that is...a small version of Frank Perconte. "He's a mini-Frank." I blurted out loud.

George snorted. "Like Frank is not mini enough." Both Frank and I smack his head fondly.

"How old is he?" I asked.

"About six months, I think." Frank said, staring down at the picture. "I miss him. Is that possible, to miss someone you never met?" He sounded sad. Frank had married his sweetheart, Evelyn, while on furlough from Camp Benning. She was pregnant when he left to go overseas. It must be very hard for both of them, separated thousands of miles as newlyweds.

George scoffed. "He's your spawn. Of course you miss him. I can imagine it already." He lifted his hands and made a frame with his hands. "You'll spoil the boy and your missus rotten to make up for the years you've been away from them. And I'll be the cool uncle that will happily corrupt your son just to annoy you." He nodded, seemingly satisfied of his description of the future and his future job to corrupt Frank's son.

I can see Frank's mood lighten up. George subtly said that "You're going to survive this godforsaken war and you will meet your son and you will live happily ever after with your family."

This is the best quality of George Luz. Behind his company clown mask and sarcastic commentary, he was the most sincere, kind, and caring human being I had ever known. Jolly Old Saint Luz would make sure everyone is happy and never expecting anything in return.

And this was the reason why I was falling in love with George Luz. Not that I would say it out loud in front of him. I would never hear the end of it.

Here comes December 1st. Our division gave us a day off to Reims, a city nineteen miles from our camp. I really wanted to see the famous cathedral of Reims. Meanwhile, George wanted to taste the champagne ("I've never tasted that bubbly wine.") since Reims was the capital of the Champagne region. The others from Easy just wanted to get some drinks and, if they were lucky, find some women "to have some fun with". And believe me, libidinous G.I.s would screw anything with a skirt.

At exactly 0800, I heard a pounding at my door. "Hey, Becca! How many layers of makeup do you have to put on your face? Hurry up, Missy! Or we're gonna miss the bus!" George shouted from outside of my room.

I had gotten awake super early today so I could properly set my hair and wear some makeup. George said this was a date, so...I was never good in these two activities, so it took time to do it right.

Even though military encouraged the feminine appearance of service women (they even highly recommended bright red lipstick!) in consideration to boost the soldiers' spirits, I only wear face powder and pale pink lipstick for my daily activities. I also never curled my hair. I usually put it up in a tight bun just above my neck. I preferred functionality and practicality above appearance. I was here to do my job, not to please the soldiers' eyes. The Colonel never voiced his disagreement, so I thought that it worked just fine.

"Didn't your Ma tell you that patience is a virtue?" I shouted back. "I'm looking for my gloves. This dress uniform should be worn with gloves. The regulation said that."

WAC had issued new off duty uniform on May 1944. It's a one piece dress made from wool with scarf, gloves, detachable belt and brown leather pumps. It should come with the overcoat, but I hadn't received it yet, even though it's already December. So I used my old WAAC overcoat. I took the time to practice walking in the pumps, since I usually used low heels oxford-style shoes or field shoes. Why is it so goddamn arduous for being a woman?!

Where is that glov-ah, there it is. Now, lipstick. Should I wear my regular pink one or the official Army approved red?

"Since when did you comply with the Army Dress Regulation?" George shouted through the door. "You've never even curled your hair or worn that lipstick!"

The red lipstick it was. Wait; did he pay attention to my hairdo and lipstick? The hell with it! Woman up, Jones! He told you to doll up, didn't he? So I applied the bright red lipstick with extreme caution. I desperately hoped that I didn't look like a clown.

Okay...inhale...exhale...here we go.

Why the hell am I so nervous? It's not like we're going to be alone. We're still going to be with the men, for God's sake!

"Are you meditating or some-"

George is never able to finish his sentence because I opened the door and then he's standing there gaping at me. Shit! Am I wearing too much makeup? Do I look like a clown?

I started to feel a cold sweat trickling down my back. I fiddled with my purse; don't you dare look at him! "Is something wrong? Do I look like a clown?" I asked, not looking at him.

I heard a clicking noise that apparently is the sound of George's teeth clicking when he closed his mouth. He swallowed before saying, "God! You're beautiful!" And then he looked shocked and added, "Holy shit! I said that out loud, didn't I?"

Needless to say, I don't need a rouge to make an effect of "rosy cheek" on my face. George cleared his throat and offered his hand, smiling his gorgeous and warm smile. "Shall we, Princess?"

This time, I take it and said, "Don't let our golden carriage wait for us any longer, Frog."

"Becca, I didn't know you could wear makeup!" Malarkey said with surprise.

Joe smacked his head. "She's a woman, you Mick. Of course she wears that. You look good, Becca. It's nice to see you wear a dress. I'm getting bored seeing you wearing trousers or fatigue."

"Thanks, Lieb," I winked, understanding that he knew the meaning of his shortened name.

He smiled and asked, "How did George react when he saw you?"

George sheepishly scratched his head. "Eh... kinda speechless for a moment." I valiantly fight the blush that is threatening to creep up my cheek.

Joe laughed. "There must be a medal for rendering George Luz speechless." George gave him a salute of only his middle finger.

"You're making me miss my Faye," Skip said dreamily. "She's as beautiful as you, Becca." He took a picture from his pocket and started looking at it. He sighed deeply, causing Alex to groan and say, "Oh no, not again."

"Lookit here." Joe Toye said. "You're really a sight for sore eyes, Becca." He came up with Babe. Bill was still in the hospital since getting shot by a sniper in Holland, so, according to George, "We're taking turns babysitting our ginger baby. Consider this to clean his mind from Bill's bad influence."

George, who apparently wasn't very happy with the other men thinking that I was pretty, snapped, "Babe, close your goddamn mouth! You'll catch flies; and they carry disease." Babe's teeth click when he closed his mouth. His face turned as red as his hair. I started having difficulties maintaining a straight face.

Go Team Jones.