1940s AU

The dance was well underway, giving the world's bravest men a break from the terrors of the battle. Swinging jazz and big band tunes filled the hangar that had been emptied particularly for the purpose of holding the many boys, men, and ladies who were in attendance. Casual chatter provided a pleasant back noise to the louder music, and all over, women were lifted off their feet in the air during the eccentric dance. Everyone was in high spirits, and whomever was not already incapacitated by liquor was well on their way there. Drunken comments were made, playful banter passing between eager boys and bold girls.

Antonio stood off to the side, looking a bit lost as he gazed out at the sea of swarming bodies. He didn't know what he ought to do. His lover back home, the dashing and ever handsome Phillip Carter, had chosen to save his own skin for fear of the police and his own collapsing financial stability. Did he blame Phillip for the decision he had made? Of course not. Homosexual men were so greatly persecuted against, and a flogging if not a fatal lynching of some sort would not necessarily be out of the question. The bigotry and fear that people held in their hearts was sometimes greater than the human capacity for sympathy and love. He didn't understand that...but it was only the way in which the world functioned; he would simply have to learn to live with it.

He'd already had a few drinks, and his mind was a little bit hazy. He felt immense perplexion over this concept of hatred and warped masculinity, and he pondered it as he nursed another glass. He was not particularly unattractive, and he had been told he was easy on the eyes. However, his bunkmates had done him the favor of at least steering the women and the alcoholics away from him, sensing his melancholy. They weren't all bad, he supposed, and they made him smile despite the endless taunting and mockery of his chastity.

Eventually, the alcohol in his system urged that he use the men's room, and he was forced from his slump in the corner to the dark, poorly lit bathroom in the hallway. A young boy staggered past him as he entered, the smell of liquor on his breath as he accidentally bumped into Antonio's shoulder. He must have been a rookie with such a good looking face...he could only hope these boys knew what they were getting themselves into. The bathroom was empty, so he unzipped and let out a heavy sigh. As he bent his head back to look at the ceiling, a strange sense of calm took over him. This was how the Lord intended it. Men would saunter into his life, only to leave him behind with sour regrets and scars from the battlefield known only as a relationship. God was protecting him as he went up in the air; his virginity and single status were a small price to pay for his life.

As he zipped himself up once more, the door swung open and one of his roommates joined him: Peter Smith, a gorgeous man three years his senior. Peter had rich, chocolate eyes, beautiful dark hair (Antonio could never tell if it was black, or just brown), a strong jawline, a sharp nose, and the most tantalizing lips Antonio had ever seen. He had seen Peter as he brushed his teeth at dawn every morning; they were as white as the blinding sun. He turned his head back to the hands he was washing, hearing the zipper come down and sensing the presence of the adonis next to him. If he tilted his head just a bit, perhaps his peripheral vision could pick up just what his depressed state needed; but he knew better. His face a crimson scarlet, he finished washing his hands and dried them on his pants. As he turned to go, a voice as smooth as honey stopped him.

"Why are you so down tonight, Virgin?" Peter asked casually, turning his head to look at the shorter boy who very strongly resembled a ripe tomato. "Did you drink too much? Your face looks as red as a communist flag." Antonio didn't trust himself to say anything right away, so the seconds ticked by as the silence pressed down upon the pair. Eventually, the man zipped up his pants and began to wash his hands, continuing on as though Antonio had already answered him, "Is it a lover?" More silence, but this time, the younger boy turned to face the man as he slowly nodded his head. "Ah, I knew it. You've been as boring as a carrot ever since the mail arrived today. Go find yourself a girl, have some fun. Give me a good reason to stop calling you Virgin." He grinned cheekily and did the same as Antonio, wiping his hands on his pants; he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms and waiting expectantly for a reaction.

"I...I don't just use women, Peter," he said softly, looking at a muddy puddle near his feet. "...and you shouldn't either." The man scrunched up his pretty face and gave Antonio a rather offended look, responding indignantly, "What makes you think I've used women, Virgin? I'm not an asshole, God almighty..." Antonio didn't know what else to say, so instead, he counted the number of cracks in the wall behind Peter's head. After a few more moments of agonizing silence, Peter changed the subject. "You know, I figure I'll actually miss the war once I finish my twenty-fifth mission and get to go home." Antonio stopped counting the cracks and turned his attention back on the other, who began tracing a crack Antonio had just labelled six. "I think...civilian life will just not be the same now. I'll miss you, and Tommy and Drew, and Mark and Chris...you guys are my family. I can't imagine a life without you all anymore, and it's tearing me apart knowing that I'll be leaving you so soon."

"You're not really leaving us, Pete," he replied earnestly, flashing him a small smile, "We'll all be with you in your heart." Peter just shook his head, running his fingers through that luscious hair of his as he responded with a huff, "That ain't it, Virgin. There's more to it than just that, you and I both know it...well, maybe you don't yet. But you will. Or maybe the war will be over by the time you get back to your folks. Who knows, damn it..." As Antonio just stood there, not saying anything, the door cracked open and their friend, Thomas, poked his head through the crack. "Oh, so that's where you two went," was all he said, gesturing back out to the sounds of the others enjoying themselves. "Me and the guys are going to head out with the girls. Y'know, just for some fun." Peter just nodded and waved a hand dismissively, answering with a simple, "Have fun, then." The door shut once more, leaving the two men alone again. The prolonged, ever persistent silence returned.

"Hey. What was her name?" Peter asked eventually, and Antonio looked up. He had known Peter since his first day in Britain; Peter had greeted him with a smile and a pat on the shoulder, pointing to his chest and swearing, "As long as I am alive and breathing, you're going to get to go home." And so far, Peter was still breathing. Peter meant the world to him, and he supposed he was bursting to tell someone the truth about himself and what a monster he was. He could keep it inside no longer.

"...his. His name," he corrected him quietly, walking over to the smudged mirrors and looking sadly at his reflection. "His name was Phillip, Phillip Carter. He...our situation changed. We couldn't see each other anymore, and he has a fiancée now." He gripped the sink tightly, staring at his reflection in disappointment. "I wasn't good enough for him. To him, I'm just another fun time in a race to get ahead before we're lowered into the earth where we belong. That's just how it is, but I just...I don't know, Peter...I thought I was special to him. I thought I was different." He went silent again, his knuckles white from grasping the counter so tightly. He slowly let go, then realized that Peter hadn't said a word yet. Perhaps he'd ran to tell their superiors...it was illegal to be homosexual and serve, anyways. Just what he needed...

But the butter-smooth voice returned, this time, more sympathetic than before. "I can't possibly understand what you're going through, Antonio. You've been seeing a person for what I'm guessing is a couple years, and you're so young too. Of course this seems like a big deal to you. But you realize as you get older, things will get better. New people will come into your life, and maybe guys like you aren't as hard to find as you think." Antonio just chuckled weakly, wiping his eyes a bit as he murmured, "You're not that much older than me, Pete, only by three years." He turned to look at his friend again, and found himself wrapped up in a hug that smelled of sweat, cheap soap, and an underlying scent of liquor. "Didn't you hear anything I said?" Peter huffed into his ear, Antonio's face resting against his strong chest. His heart...did it skip a beat? "No...sorry, Peter..." The man took Antonio's jaw in his hands as he pulled away from the hug, tracing his cheekbone with a thumb that was calloused from work. "Idiot...listen to your superiors," he muttered, but his tone was gentle and warm. The butterflies in Antonio's stomach whipped up a whirlwind, Peter's face looming closer and closer.

Their lips met; and little by little, that meeting turned into something more like a kiss.