E. B. Sledge (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
withtheoldbreed) wrote2014-11-14 06:54 pm
withtheoldbreed) wrote2014-11-14 06:54 pm
d-day ✯ spam
[Open Spam for the Deck]
[It happens quickly. One minute, Gene's sitting in the rocky Peleliu hills, hearing Burgie's voice over and over in his head - Sniper got the Skipper, Ack Ack's dead - watching someone pull the wool blanket over the Skipper's head, and the next, he's here. Standing on the deck of a ship, looking out at a seemingly endless horizon of stars. He remembers the conversation, the promise that this could be fixed, a wrong could be righted, and he remembers agreeing, but he blinks, and suddenly, the hills, the crackle of gunfire, the solemn footsteps, his buddies are all gone.
He's alone. For the first time in well over a year, he's alone, and that hits him like a ton of bricks.
It's cold, is the next thing he realizes. At least, it's colder than the hundred and fifteen degree temperatures he's been forced to cope with for the last month, and he shivers involuntarily. He's still holding his helmet in one hand, his rifle in the other. His pack and sidearm and filthy fatigue green dungarees he's been wearing since they landed on that fucking beach have all come along too, along with the dirt and dried blood. Sometimes, it feels like he'd do anything for a shower, even a cold one with salt water.
He's filthy, exhausted, and he's staring out at an ocean of stars. Everything hurts - the scrapes and sores on his face, arms, feet, his feet in general, but his chest, too, even if that's a different kind of pain entirely - but for a moment, he's utterly distracted, staring. What is this? What kind of ship had he volunteered for?
For the hundredth time since he got on the LVT, Eugene Sledge wonders what the hell he was thinking when he volunteered for any of this.]
[ooc: multiples & fuzzy time are all welcomed. c8]
[It happens quickly. One minute, Gene's sitting in the rocky Peleliu hills, hearing Burgie's voice over and over in his head - Sniper got the Skipper, Ack Ack's dead - watching someone pull the wool blanket over the Skipper's head, and the next, he's here. Standing on the deck of a ship, looking out at a seemingly endless horizon of stars. He remembers the conversation, the promise that this could be fixed, a wrong could be righted, and he remembers agreeing, but he blinks, and suddenly, the hills, the crackle of gunfire, the solemn footsteps, his buddies are all gone.
He's alone. For the first time in well over a year, he's alone, and that hits him like a ton of bricks.
It's cold, is the next thing he realizes. At least, it's colder than the hundred and fifteen degree temperatures he's been forced to cope with for the last month, and he shivers involuntarily. He's still holding his helmet in one hand, his rifle in the other. His pack and sidearm and filthy fatigue green dungarees he's been wearing since they landed on that fucking beach have all come along too, along with the dirt and dried blood. Sometimes, it feels like he'd do anything for a shower, even a cold one with salt water.
He's filthy, exhausted, and he's staring out at an ocean of stars. Everything hurts - the scrapes and sores on his face, arms, feet, his feet in general, but his chest, too, even if that's a different kind of pain entirely - but for a moment, he's utterly distracted, staring. What is this? What kind of ship had he volunteered for?
For the hundredth time since he got on the LVT, Eugene Sledge wonders what the hell he was thinking when he volunteered for any of this.]
[ooc: multiples & fuzzy time are all welcomed. c8]
[spam!!] fair enough, still can't get over that it was inspired by how much he hated south pacific
You really don't mind, sir?
[spam!!] seriously XD (although south pacific was kind of boring...)
[He tilts his head to indicate the bathroom - it's not huge, but it's neat and clean and best of all, the hot water never runs out (or at least, he's never gotten it to, and there have been a couple of times he's come home after a mission and stayed in there for a long, long time.] Take all the time you need. I mean it.
[spam!!] yeah not a fan, we did it my sophomore year of high school u_u
[It takes Gene a while to figure out how to turn on the shower - he still wants to know where the hell this apartment is, because it doesn't look like anything he's ever seen before in a bunch of tiny ways - but he gets it to work and he's pretty sure stripping out of his uniform and stepping under hot water is the best thing he's ever felt.
Well, besides maybe drinking that cold, clean water. But it's a close race.
He winds up standing there for a long time, letting it beat a soothing pattern on him, but then gets to work scrubbing a month's worth of dirt and grime off him. He winces when he upsets sores, scrapes and bruises, but presses on until he actually starts feeling cleaner. Even if he's not exactly taking his time, it does go slow just because of how filthy he is, so it's a while before he steps out of the shower.
When he does, he's wearing the clothes borrowed from Bucky. They're still a little too big for him, but like hell is he complaining. Between that, and the fact that he's actually clean, he looks... younger. Still completely worn out, but less like he'd aged eight years between landing on that beach and winding up here. He's also holding his uniform like he's afraid of contaminating the clothes, or himself, or Steve's apartment.]
I'll have these washed and returned for you friend as soon as I can, sir.
[spam!!] I just saw the movie, but the weird filters kept distracting me XD
So he's not surprised in the least when Sledge spends a while in there - he would have been more disappointed if he hadn't - so Steve's just sprawled on the couch with a book when Sledge reappears. He hasn't touched the gear or the weapons, but that's more out of respect for Sledge's belongings, and not because he cares that they're dirty. Likewise, he doesn't care about Sledge's uniform being dirty, either, but he's not sure how else to get that point across.
Either way, he sets the book down and stands up, nodding. It's nice to see the young man under the dirt and mud and blood, even if he does look worn thin.] That's fine. Whenever you get the chance, he's got other stuff to wear.
[He almost wants to offer to toss Sledge's uniform in with his own laundry, but that seems kind of patronizing, so he doesn't.] I know you don't need an escort to find your cabin, but if you want a hand. [He shrugs a little, and smiles. The offer's there, but Sledge can take it or leave it.] I promise, this place gets a little easier to handle, after some food and some sleep. A lot of things do.