Archive of Our Own

Tires crunching over hard packed sand. Lungs pulling in deep, steady breaths. Unrelenting heat pressing in from all sides. A sense of anxiety, of missing something important. Muffled voices through a headset. Then, suddenly, an explosion, the force of which knocks his vehicle off the road and leaves him insensate. The next moment - pain.

With a yell, Babe startles awake and jolts upright. His hands fly to his face to check for shrapnel or blood and it takes his shaken brain several long moments to realize that he’s safe in his apartment in Philadelphia. He swings his legs over the side of the bed and rests his elbows on his knees. Light has barely started to filter into his room through the misshapen blinds over his window. He reaches out and taps his cell phone. 6:45 a.m.

He flops back onto the mattress with a groan. It’s earlier than he needs to be awake but not so early that he can go back to sleep again. He gives himself a few moments to wallow in his exhausted frustration before he drags himself out of bed. At least he has enough time now to take a real shower.

His bedroom is small - tiny, actually - and devoid of any real personality. It’s an apartment so he isn’t allowed to paint the walls, forcing him to live with the dull, dingy yellow chosen by his landlord. His bedding is plain and gray and there’s no artwork on the walls. There are more important things to spend money on than sheets or art.

The carpet under his feet is well-worn as he wanders into his equally tiny en suite bathroom. He kicks off his sweat-soaked pajamas and leaves them on the floor, telling himself that he’ll get them into the laundry later. He reaches into the miniscule shower and turns on the water. The pipes shriek in protest as the water winds its way through them before the showerhead pathetically spits out a weak stream of water.

The water is so hot that Babe’s skin turns red as soon as he takes his first step under the spray. He washes his hair and body vigorously, trying to scrub the fear sweat from his nightmare off of his skin. As soon as he’s rinsed the last of his combination shampoo/conditioner/bodywash out of his hair, he hears the sound of quiet, sleepy groaning leaking through the thin walls.

He steps out of the shower and does a quick towel-down. The damp towel ends up on the floor as well - he adds it to his mental list of things to take care of later that he’s sure he’ll forget in ten minutes. On his way back through his bedroom, he steps into a pair of boxers and pulls a clean t-shirt on over his head.

When he opens the door to the second bedroom, he’s greeted by probably his favorite sight of all time: his seven-year-old son Daniel sitting up in his bed, sleepy-eyed and grumpy. It’s a view Babe has learned to savor; Danny grows like a weed and he’ll never be this small again - even tomorrow he’ll be just a little bit bigger than he is today.

In his own (entirely biased) opinion, Daniel Joseph Heffron is the most beautiful child to ever grace God’s green Earth. They share the same red hair but Danny’s tends to curl at the very edges if it gets too long. They’re both terribly fair skinned and prone to freckling (then burning) in the sun. Danny’s eyes are the same shape as Babe’s own, but instead of brown they’re the same shade of blue as his mother’s. He’s tall for his age and has the same charming lack of coordination as his father.

It’s earlier than Danny has to wake up so Babe assumes the groaning of the pipes from his shower probably woke him. Either that or Babe had cried out during his nightmare. Luckily for him, Danny is generally a happy, easy-going kid and has never minded an early wake up call.

“Oh, Danny boy,” Babe croons, off key and not caring as he waltzes toward the bed. “The pipes, the pipes are calling.”

Danny lets out a loud, long groan and flops back against his pillows. “Dad,” he moans. “Stooop. You’re hurting my ears.”

“That so?” Babe reaches down and tweaks Danny’s ear, causing him to yelp and bat his dad away with a laugh. “Anyone ever told you how ungrateful you are?”

“You do. Every day.” He laughs again as Babe shoves him over on the mattress, sitting down on the edge once there’s room for him.

“Good. I can’t have you forgetting it, can I?” Once Babe has made himself comfortable, Danny crawls over to cuddle up next to him, something he’ll never tire of. After a life of stilted affection, the easy way Danny hugs and snuggles is the cure for an old ache in Babe’s heart.

“How’s my guy this morning? You sleep good?” He presses a kiss to Danny’s strawberry blonde hair, wrapping his arms around him.

“Yeah. I had a dream about dragons.”

“Good dragons or bad dragons?”

Danny shoots him a withering look. “There’s no such thing as good or bad dragons. They’re lizards.”

Nodding as though this makes perfect sense, Babe kisses the top of his son’s head again. “Of course. Silly question, huh?” He runs his hand over Danny’s messy bedhead to try and flatten some of it down. “Get dressed. I’ll make breakfast.”

As Danny gets ready to start his day, Babe pads into the kitchen and cracks open the fridge. It’s not the fullest it’s ever been, but there’s eggs and cheese so there’s plenty to start the day with. He moves in a sleepy daze, scrambling and seasoning the eggs. They almost go flying when his phone rings, scaring the hell out of him.

“Yeah?”

“What do you mean, ‘yeah’?” The voice on the other end of the line is sharp and would seem truly hostile if Babe didn’t know better. “What kind of asshole answers the phone with ‘yeah’?”

“The kind of guy whose best friend calls at 7 in the fucking morning.”

“You’re a wiseass, you know that? Raised in a fuckin’ barn…” Bill continues to grumble insults under his breath as Babe pours the eggs into a frying pan. Babe has just about tuned him out when he says something actually useful. “I’m doing you a favor and calling to remind you that my godson has a doctor’s appointment today.”

“I know that, Bill,” Babe huffs. “It’s on the calendar.”

“I just know that you forget stuff sometimes, so I figured I’d call.”

As much as Babe strives to be the perfect dad, the one who remembers every detail about his child and never forgets a single thing, his shitty memory is an incontrovertible fact. He sighs loudly. “Thanks. You know I appreciate it.”

Bill completely ignores his gratitude just like he always does. “Do you guys need a ride? I’m free all morning.”

Babe considers his offer carefully. Taking a cab from their apartment to the doctor’s office will be too expensive. They could take a train or a bus but it’s always such a hassle to navigate public transportation with a seven year old.

“Yeah, that’d be great. His appointment is at…” Babe’s mind goes completely blank and he turns to look at the big calendar that lives on their fridge.

“11:15, I know.” Bill has the answer before Babe’s eyes have even found the right date. Tactfully, he doesn’t mention that Babe has just completely proved his point. “I’ll be there at 10:35.”

“Thanks.” And because Babe is determined to raise an emotionally literate son and all of the parenting websites say that expressing platonic love is important, he adds, “Love you.”

Plus, it tends to make Bill uncomfortable which is always fun.

“Yeah, yeah,” Bill mumbles awkwardly, but he still replies, “Love you too, asshole,” before he hangs up.

Babe and Bill have the type of friendship that seems like it’s always existed, even though they’ve only known each other for 5 or so years. They were both born and raised in Philadelphia but they never would have met if it wasn’t for the army.

When Babe enlisted a week after his high school graduation, 18 years old and already the father of a 1 year old, he had been so damn sure that serving his country was what he’d been born to do. Even as a kid he’d been obsessed with the idea of joining the army, of proving his mettle and dedicating himself to his country, so making the choice to enlist wasn’t as difficult as others might have expected.

By that point he’d already cemented himself as the family’s disappointment, his foray into teenage fatherhood having dashed his ma’s hope of her youngest becoming a lawyer or some other type of fancy professional. He’s sure his mother would have been furious at his enlistment if she’d been speaking to him at the time.

The only hard part about it was having to leave Danny behind. Sara, Danny’s mother, had agreed to take custody of him during Babe’s deployments because she knew what being in the army meant to Babe. Plus, the military would benefit Danny, too - he’d get health insurance, a place to live, and potentially money to go to college someday.

So even though it half killed Babe to leave his baby son behind, he made the choice he thought was best.

When Babe and Bill met, it took them about 3 minutes to figure out that they both came from South Philly; it was pretty clear the minute they opened their mouths. After that, they were inseparable. It turned out that they grew up only a few blocks away from each other but they’d gone to different schools and different churches and their paths had never crossed.

Bill had taken Babe under his wing with warmth and ease. Without him, Babe never would have learned the best way to keep camel spiders out of his shoes (and that they were mostly harmless, just searching for shade). He wouldn’t have known which MREs were edible and which really, really weren’t. He wouldn’t have learned how to survive in a place so very different from home.

Even now, Babe doesn’t regret his decision to enlist, not entirely. After all, going to war introduced him to some of the greatest men he’ll ever know. It taught him responsibility and teamwork, how to lead and how to follow in turn. But two tours before the age of 21 left Babe scarred and more than a little broken.

The bond between him and Bill, forged in war, is still strong and vital in civilian life. When Babe had been discharged, Bill was the one waiting to pick him up at the airport. When the last members of Babe’s family had drifted away from him, Bill took over the responsibilities of being Danny’s godfather. They have family dinner together every Sunday night - Babe and Danny go to the Guarnere house to eat with Bill and his wife Frannie. Their friendship is one of the only things that keeps Babe sane, that gives him the strength to wake up and carry on when the whole world feels like it’s pressing down on him.

It isn’t that Babe doesn’t have blood brothers. He does - three of them, in fact, and one sister. And he loves his brothers, but the attachment he has with Bill is something different. It goes beyond brotherhood, beyond blood and family obligation. He and Bill love each other not because they have to, but because they choose to. Their relationship blossomed in the chaos and agony of war, and that means more than shared genetics.

The rest of Babe’s morning is spent hanging out with Danny and getting him ready for his appointment. They eat their breakfast at a leisurely pace, leaving Babe with only a short amount of time to get himself ready. The clothes he puts on are ones that he’s reasonably sure are clean and he finger combs his hair to try and make it lie mostly flat.

Bill texts him at 10:35 on the dot to let him know he’s outside waiting. Civilian life hasn’t managed to beat military precision out of Bill yet, and he’s stubborn enough that it might never manage it.

Babe ushers his son out of the house as quickly as he can, harping at him just a little to make sure he brings a jacket with him in case he gets cold. He throws on a sweatshirt himself and heads out the door.

In Bill’s mind he’s the type of man who belongs behind the wheel of a Lamborghini or Ferrari. This only makes it more hilarious to Babe that his actual vehicle is a 2019 Toyota Camry. It’s a nice enough car and everything, but it’s not the luxurious Italian masterpiece that Bill thinks he deserves.

(Neither of them have ever discussed the fact that Bill only chose this car after a solid three months of researching child safety ratings. No matter how charming Babe finds it.)

As he walks toward the car, Bill unlocks the child safe doors and rolls the window down. “Hurry up, will ya? Traffic’s gonna be a bitch.”

Babe helps get Danny secured into the booster seat that lives permanently in the back of the car. “You always say that and we always get there on time.” He gets into the passenger seat and buckles his seatbelt. “Besides, it’s not some big deal appointment. It’s just a check up.”

“Hey, if it’s for my godson then that makes it a big deal.” Bill pulls away from the curb with all the terrifying confidence of a Boston taxi driver. He glances in the rear view mirror, making eye contact with Danny who is carefully forming spit bubbles on the tip of his tongue. “Look at that talent,” Bill crows. “He’s gonna be something special, I can tell.”

“It’s spit,” Babe says slowly, slightly worried that Bill might be on the edge of some kind of breakdown.

“If that kid wants to be a champion spit bubble blower, then that’s what you’ll be, right Danny? And we’ll cheer him on the whole damn time. That clear?”

“Thanks, Uncle Bill,” Danny says, beaming with a gap-toothed smile. “See, Dad? Uncle Bill believes in me.”

Erupting into laughter, Babe earns himself a firm punch to the shoulder during an ill-advised lane change.

—

Babe has taken Danny to a handful of pediatricians over the years. It’s not that they’re bad patients (at least Babe hopes they aren’t), but if he’s a little picky about the person poking and prodding at his kid, who can blame him?

The very first doctor they saw had spent the majority of their first appointment asking pointed questions about Babe’s age and espousing the importance of ‘traditional family values’ for a child’s health and happiness. Babe, already irritable and worn thin from caring for a newborn almost entirely on his own, had told the receptionist point-blank that he would not be scheduling a second appointment. Along with some other choice words.

Another doctor had been a harried looking woman in her mid-forties who moved like a tornado, always running late and moving much too fast to compensate for it. She had seemed perfectly competent but it was hard to tell when their appointment had been so rushed. She had spent a total of 10 minutes with them. They had scheduled a second appointment with her but they’d ended up waiting two hours past their appointment time. By the time they were finally seen, Danny had been crying and miserable and Babe wasn’t too far behind them.

Bill was firmly cemented in their lives by that point and had driven them to the appointment. He’s the sort of man for whom timeliness is next to godliness and the doctor’s lateness had made him absolutely livid. After they were done, he had almost begged Babe to take Danny to another doctor.

“I don’t care if I have to find and pay for a new doctor myself,” Bill had said desperately. “We’re finding someone new. I can’t take this anymore.”

Danny has been seeing his current doctor for a few years now. Ralph Spina is a fellow Philadelphia native, warm and funny and calm. He seems to genuinely love both children and his job and kids seem to be equally as fond of him. He’s the type of guy who leaves time during the appointments to have thumb wars with the kids and puts in the effort to get to know the parents.

It didn’t take Spina long to cotton onto the fact that Babe sometimes struggles to remember key points of their appointments, so now he always makes sure to write down the important details in his most legible handwriting. Babe loves him for it.

They arrive at the office and Bill parallel parks, squeezing the car into a barely big enough spot. As Babe unbuckles his seat belt and double checks to make sure he has his wallet, Bill exits the car. It’s instinct for Babe to watch him walk out of the corner of his eye - he can’t help it, he worries - and he notices that Bill is limping slightly. It means his leg is either hurting him or it’s been too long since he last wore his prosthetic.

No matter what the cause of his discomfort, Babe forces himself to take a deep breath in through his nose and keep his mouth shut. Fussing never works on Bill; he prefers to do all the fussing himself.

“Are you coming in with us?” Babe asks curiously as he closes the passenger door behind him. It wouldn’t be unheard of - Bill has tagged along to doctor’s appointments before.

“Nah,” he says. “I just couldn’t let you go in there without saying hi to my Danny.” With practiced ease, he helps Danny out of the booster seat and steadies himself just as 48 pounds of kid launch into his arms.

“Oof!” Bill pretends to stagger even though it’s no trouble at all to catch the gangly child. “Watch it, kid. You’re getting too strong for your old Uncle Bill.”

Danny hugs him tightly. “Liar,” he sings out. “You’re the strongest guy I know.”

It’s almost unbearably adorable and Babe can’t resist taking out his phone to snap a quick picture, one that he immediately sends to Frannie. “Alright, alright. We gotta go in or we’ll actually be late.”

Bill sets Danny lightly on the ground, running a hand over his hair. “Fine, fine. I’ll be waiting in the car. I’m gonna do a crossword, so take your time.”

“I don’t know why you keep trying crosswords. You always end up getting pissed off and filling in the squares with cuss words anyway.”

“Don’t irrigate me, Babe.” Bill glares at him as he folds back into the driver’s seat and locks the doors with a loud ‘thunk’.

Once inside the building, Babe and Danny walk over to the reception desk. The receptionist is a full figured woman in her early thirties and she’s a perfect fit for a pediatrician’s office: bubbly and smiling. She always has the coolest fingernails and Danny always oohs and aahs over them.

“Hi Emily,” Danny chirps as he beams at her. “Nice nails.” Today they’re a swirled mixture of blacks and purples with white stars and different planets painstakingly painted on.

“Oh, thank you,” she says brightly, grinning as she types away on her keyboard, her long nails clicking satisfyingly. “Danny Heffron, all checked in!” She hands Babe a hot pink, translucent clipboard. “Just fill out those forms for me in case any information has changed since the last time we saw you guys. I can’t believe how long it’s been - you’re getting so big!”

Babe beams, pushing Danny’s hair away from his freckled forehead. “Growing like a weed.”

“We love to see it.” As Babe turns to find a seat in the waiting room, Emily calls him back. “Just so you know, you and Danny won’t be seeing Dr. Spina today. You’re going to see a different doctor.”

“A different doctor?” Babe frowns. “I thought Dr. Spina was the only doc in this office.”

“He is. But he had a family emergency and asked someone from another practice to cover for him so he didn’t have to cancel all of his appointments. His name is Dr. Roe and he’s wonderful, I promise. Your kiddo is in good hands!”

Shifting uncomfortably, Babe tries not to let the full extent of his distress show. “Alright. Thanks.” He gives her a weak smile and walks to one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs.

Since leaving the army, sudden changes don’t go over well with Babe. He likes consistency and routine, likes knowing what’s coming and what to expect. There are handfuls of calming strategies in his arsenal, provided by his therapist, but they don’t work all of the time. Sometimes he just has to push through it, no matter how hard it gets.

It’s only a few minutes before Dr. Spina’s nurse calls them back to an exam room and Babe is relieved to see her familiar face. At least that hasn’t changed. He hands her the clipboard of completed forms and follows her through the door.

The hallway she leads him through is long and lined with closed doors. It makes Babe feel trapped, but he takes several long, deep breaths to try and soothe the anxiety taking hold of him. In spite of his best efforts, he looks anxiously from one door to the next, waiting for some kind of threat to burst out. He tries to use this hypervigilance to his advantage, to prove to himself that there’s nothing to worry about. It doesn’t work.

Babe flinches as Danny reaches out to take his hand, but his sweet, wonderful son doesn’t pull away. “Dad?”

Not trusting himself to speak, Babe squeezes his hand reassuringly and presses a kiss to his hair.

The nurse leads them to the last door on the left and steps aside to let Babe and Danny go in first. His gaze flicks around the room, making sure everything is as it should be before he goes in.

“Go ahead and sit,” the nurse says brightly, gesturing to the chair next to the computer desk. The back of the chair is pressed up against the wall and Babe isn’t sure he can stomach sitting with his back to the door right now.

Even though Babe is trying his best to hide it, his anxiety has roared to life inside him. There’s a cold sweat breaking out on Babe’s forehead and he feels slightly ill. Danny has glued himself to his father’s side, gripping his t-shirt tightly and pressing his face against his side.

“Sorry, but could Danny sit on the table instead?” The exam table is better situated. It has a clear view of both the door and the window, and the doctor won’t have to stand between Babe and his only escape route when he comes in.

“Of course.”

Babe lifts Danny onto the table, the clean paper crinkling underneath his skinny little legs. Despite his father’s odd behavior, Danny doesn’t seem worried. He just keeps a firm grip on Babe.

The nurse peppers them with routine questions. How is Danny sleeping? How is he eating? Does Babe have any concerns that the doctor should know about? Babe and Danny answer them all (good, great, not that they can think of off the top of their heads).

It goes perfectly smoothly until the nurse claps her hands and says, “Alright Danny, let’s head into the hallway to get your height and weight.”

As she takes a step toward his son Babe reflexively jerks between them, holding out a hand to keep her away. The nurse looks shocked and mortification sweeps through Babe until all he wants is to sink into the floor and disappear.

“I am so sorry,” he says, low and mortified.

The nurse wipes the surprise off of her face and replaces it with an understanding smile, like parents flinch and yank their kids away all the time when she tries to take their vitals. “It’s totally fine. The doctor is going to need his vitals before you leave, but it doesn’t have to be right now.” She makes a quick note in Danny’s chart on the computer and Babe imagines that it says something along the lines of ‘dad is crazy - use caution’. Her smile stays pleasant even as she stands to leave. “Make yourselves at home, Mr. Heffron. The doctor will be with you in a few minutes.”

As soon as the door closes behind her, Babe lets out a long, shaky breath.

“Dad?” Danny sounds apprehensive but not frightened as he reaches out to hold Babe’s hand.

“Yeah buddy?”

“I’m okay. They’re not going to hurt me.”

Babe’s heart sinks. The first time Babe had experienced a flashback when Danny was old enough to notice, he and Bill had explained that sometimes Babe got scared because he thought people were trying to hurt him, even when no one was around.

“I know, Danny. My dad-brain knows that.”

“But your soldier brain forgot.”

Not for the first time, Babe stands and marvels at the bright, intelligent blessing that is his son. “You’re too smart for your own good.”

“I must get that from my mom.”

Babe laughs and laughs and by the time the doctor knocks on the door, he’s feeling better. At least, he’s calmed down enough that he no longer feels like grabbing Danny under his arm like a football and running full speed out of the building. It’s a notable improvement.

“Yeah,” he calls out. “Come in.”

If Babe had been asked to guess, he would have assumed that the substitute doctor would be someone older, maybe someone tired or annoyed to be covering for another doctor’s practice. He’s pictured cold, wrinkly hands and frown lines and gray hair.

He is not in any way prepared for the person who actually walks through the door.

Dr. Roe is… gorgeous. Like, jaw-droppingly, heart-stoppingly beautiful. He’s young, no more than 30 at the absolute oldest. His hair is so black that it shines blue when it catches the light and it’s just a little tousled like he’s been running his hands through it. At first glance it seems like his eyes are dark brown, but when Babe looks closer he realizes that they are actually impossibly dark blue, like the sea just before a storm.

It is immediately clear to him that he is going to make an absolute and complete ass out of himself in front of this doctor.

Dr. Roe steps forward with a mild-mannered smile and holds his hand out. His fingers are long and elegant and Babe has the sudden, insane impulse to put one in his mouth. It conjures up a distracting and problematic mental image.

It gives Babe a certain amount of pride that he manages to keep himself under control enough to shake the man’s hand like a normal person.

“You must be Edward Heffron,” he says in a soft, warm voice and Babe swears his soul leaves his body. The man has a southern accent, thick and syrupy like molasses, though Babe can’t put his finger on where it’s from. As far as he’s concerned anything south of the Mason-Dixon Line might as well be a foreign country. He’s never been further south than Gettysburg.

“Babe,” he blurts unintelligibly.

“Beg pardon?” Poor Dr. Roe looks confused and a little startled and Babe can’t blame him.

“Shit, sorry. My name is Babe. Well, it isn’t legally my name but I go by Babe. Only the nuns call me Edward.” Babe is fully, horrifyingly aware of how deranged he sounds.

“Oh my God,” Danny whispers behind him.

That’s when he realizes that he just swore in front of his young child in full hearing of the hot doctor. His face turns red and he swears he must be radiating heat from his cheeks. “Fuck. I mean, crap. I don’t usually swear in front of Danny.”

“Yes you do,” Danny says incredulously. “You swear all the time. Like, a lot.”

With wide eyes, Babe turns to look at his son in betrayal. How is it possible that he has raised a narc?

Dr. Roe is too polite to really laugh at him but amusement is twinkling in his eyes. “You’re fine. There are worse things in the world than swearing. And you must be Danny.” Roe holds out a hand and shoots him a big smile. “I’m Dr. Roe.”

Danny shakes his hand, his own cheeks red as he suddenly looks very shy. Apparently being overwhelmed by Dr. Roe is something of a family trait.

“You’ve got a strong handshake!” Dr. Roe shakes out his hand with a grin.

“My uncle Bill says I’m the strongest kid he’s ever seen,” Danny brags, chest puffed out with pride.

Dr. Roe lets out a low, long whistle. “I bet he’s right. Let’s get some vitals, alright? Then we can prove it with science.”

Now, had Dr. Roe been offering to ‘experiment’ with Babe, he would have agreed in a heartbeat. He thinks he’d do anything Dr. Roe asked him to. (He has a sudden, visceral image of himself on his knees in front of him and now is not the time.)

But despite his overwhelming attraction to the doctor, Babe still reaches out to put his hand on Danny’s arm to stop him from getting up. The rules are different when it comes to his kid. There’s a dark part of him that wants to snarl and hide his son away from any and all potential threats, but the rational part of him understands that this man is Danny’s doctor. In order to make sure he’s safe and healthy, he has to examine him. But knowing it and feeling it are two different things.

Dr. Roe must sense his trepidation as he smiles easily at Babe. “Why don’t you come help us, Dad? I’ll show you how the scale works and you can take his height and weight for me. Or it can wait until next time you come in when Dr. Spina’s back, if you prefer.”

It’s incredibly rare for a stranger to understand what Babe needs and even rarer that they’re willing to offer it. Babe nods after a moment of consideration. “Yeah, that’s fine. Sorry about this.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Dr. Roe says easily. “Let’s get started.”

The three of them work as a team to gather all of the necessary data about how Danny is growing. They take his weight, height, and temperature together and Babe sits next to him on the table as Dr. Roe checks his ears, eyes, and heart.

Danny doesn’t usually love strangers. He isn’t exactly shy, but he so rarely meets new people outside of school and Babe’s circle of friends that he’s hesitant. However, it becomes apparent that he is also pretty enthralled by his new doctor. He laughs at every lame joke Dr. Roe makes and chatters happily about snakes and volcanoes and all of his other highly specific second grade interests. He’s the perfect image of a social, well-rounded child.

Babe thinks he might be the world’s best wingman.

For the entire appointment, Danny is sweet and well-behaved. He doesn’t even cry when he gets his yearly vaccinations.

By the time they get to the questionnaire part of the appointment, Babe feels comfortable enough to move to the chair by the computer, the one he’d refused earlier. Danny stays sitting on the exam table, swinging his skinny legs back and forth.

They run through questions concerning the normal developmental milestones that are typically expected for seven year olds and Dr. Roe seems perfectly pleased with all of their answers. Not once does concern show on his face.

“Alright, Doc,” Babe says brightly. “Break it to me gentle: did I wreck him?” He’s teasing. Mostly.

“By all indications you have a wonderful, healthy kid on your hands, Mr. Heffron.”

Danny cheers and while it’s comforting to hear that his kid is doing well, Babe flinches. “Oh God, please don’t call me that. Just call me Babe, I’m begging you.”

The mere idea of it seems to make the doctor uncomfortable. To be fair, lots of people have a hard time calling Babe Babe at first. It seems too intimate or too personal when really it’s just a childhood nickname, the result of being the youngest of all his siblings and cousins. It’s just stuck around all these years.

Still, Babe doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. So he concedes, “Alright, how about Edward then? Just… not Mr. Heffron.”

“Edward.”

And damn, Babe thinks, his name has been wasted on the nuns. They always said his name like a whip cracking, harsh and short and followed by something unpleasant. But Dr. Roe makes it sound like melting chocolate. Babe shivers.

“Well, if I call you Edward then it’s only fair that you call me Gene.” There’s something almost coy in his voice but Babe isn’t sure if it’s really there or if he’s just hearing what he wants to hear. The spell is broken when Gene looks at his watch. “I should move on to my next patient. It was nice meeting you gentlemen.” He shakes both of their hands and then he’s gone, leaving them behind with the gentle click of the door.

“You are so embarrassing,” Danny whines from the exam table.

Babe turns around and gives him an insulted look. “What? What did I do?”

“You like him.”

All of Babe’s denials are for naught as soon as they climb back into Bill’s car.

“Oh, Christ,” Bill gripes after just one look at Babe’s face. “I know that look. What, does Dr. Spina got a new nurse or something?”

“No, a dooooctor,” Danny coos in a sing-song voice from the backseat.

Babe reaches back to swat his leg gently. “Who raised you to be like this, huh? I know I taught you how to keep a secret.”

Bill freezes. “Wait just a fucking second. Are you telling me that you’ve got that stupid look on your face because of Spina?” He sounds shocked and affronted, like somehow it would be unthinkable for Babe to have a crush on Danny’s doctor.

“No, don’t be stupid.” Babe lets his head thunk back against the headrest. “He’s not here today, There’s a new doctor. Eugene Roe.” He sighs.

Bill looks up at the ceiling of the car in supplication. “God help me.” Then he elbows Babe playfully. “So… is he cute?”

Babe sighs wistfully as Danny pretends to retch. “He’s beautiful.”

Bill’s interest and support aren’t surprising to Babe; it’s not the first time that Babe has told him about crushing on a guy.

During their deployment, they’d both had an evening off. Bill had somehow managed to get his hands on a bottle of scotch and the two of them had gotten a little drunk. Well, Bill was a little drunk. Babe, freshly 21 and unused to drinking, had gotten completely and utterly wasted. He ended up sobbing on Bill’s shoulder in total bisexual heartbreak about the very unrequited crush he had on one of their straight squad mates.

Bill had held him tight, patting him on the shoulder and telling him “there ain’t nothing wrong with you” over and over again so fiercely that Babe had actually believed it. Then, like a true friend, he never brought it up again. Sure, sometimes he’ll wink at Babe if he catches him staring at or flirting with a cute guy, but he’s never mentioned that conversation, never made Babe feel like he has anything to be ashamed of.

Bill is the best.

---

Meeting Dr. Roe, while delightful and pleasant, doesn’t change Babe’s life in any particularly life altering way. He thinks about him every so often, sighing sweetly before continuing on with his day.

Babe’s a busy guy. During the week he works at Bull Randleman’s construction company. It’s hard work, but Babe relishes in the ache it leaves in his muscles. If he works his body enough, sometimes his brain takes a break and he isn’t bothered by memories he’d rather forget.

That doesn’t mean that Babe doesn’t have bad days at work. It doesn’t happen often, but every once and a while something heavy will drop with a bang, sounding so much like a bomb or a gunshot. Sometimes the whir of machinery sends Babe right back to Iraq, to the sound of helicopters and planes and Humvees.

He has a lot of friends at the construction company, but Joe Liebgott is his closest friend there, a skinny little guy with the temperament of a Tasmanian devil. (He’s also, weirdly, related to Danny. Sara - Danny’s mom - is his cousin.) On the three or so days when Babe had fallen apart, he was the one to notice that Babe was falling to pieces and he’d removed him from the site as quickly as possible.

Babe likes his job. But Babe is a single dad and he can’t raise Danny on a construction worker’s salary, so he bartends a few nights a week.

Currahee is an upscale bar just a few blocks away from Babe’s house. It’s owned and run by Lewis Nixon and Dick Winters. They hadn’t met at the bar, or even in Philadelphia - they’d met 6,000 miles away in Iraq.

Dick Winters had been Babe’s commanding officer during his first tour of duty. He had been well-liked by everyone, Babe included, for his cool head and kindness even under the most stressful of situations.

Nixon had been in the war as well. He was an intelligence officer so he and Babe had never fought side by side, but they had known each other and gotten along very well.

Dick and Nix make an odd couple. As far as Babe can tell, Dick doesn’t drink at all and he’s not entirely (or at all) approving of Nix’s love affair with expensive whiskey. Nixon, on the other hand, had gone into the war with a strong affinity for drinking and had left it with a worse one. He lets Dick take charge over the actual running of the business, using most of his time to chat with the customers and eagerly sample the bar’s wares.

Nix is outgoing, lively, charismatic and almost thoughtlessly generous, whereas Dick is more introverted and gentle and supportive. They bicker constantly, picking at each other like they’ve been married for sixty years instead of just a handful. But somehow they just work, just fit together seamlessly in spite of their differences. They adore each other in a way most people can only aspire to.

It had been Nix who offered Babe the job at the bar.

It had only been three weeks since Babe’s deployment ended, only three weeks since he’d taken back custody of a then-3 year old Danny who barely remembered him. Neither of them had been sleeping well and Babe’s eyes were itchy with exhaustion and shadowed by dark rings that spoke of many sleepless nights. Motion was one of the only things that lulled Danny to sleep so, since Babe didn’t have a car, he decided to take a long walk around the neighborhood to try and get him to sleep. They had ended up at a neighborhood farmer’s market and Babe walked, dazed and foggy, from stall to stall as Danny slept pressed against his back in a baby carrier.

Fatigue had made him slow and dim-witted so he didn’t manage to move in time to let another man pass. “Sorry,” he mumbled as their shoulders bumped.

“My fault,” the other man said pleasantly, his voice light and… familiar? “Wait, Heffron?”

Babe had looked up, shocked and delighted to see Lewis Nixon standing before him with a bag of lemons in his hand, looking just as surprised to see him. They exchanged polite but warm greetings before Babe was distracted by Danny squirming against his back.

“Wait, is that your kid?” Nixon craned his neck to look over Babe’s shoulder at the stirring toddler.

“Yeah. This is Danny.” Babe had bent down slightly to give Nix a better view of Danny’s innocent and sleeping face. Then he’d let out a jaw-cracking yawn and Nixon had basically dragged Babe back to the bar with him for some food.

Dick made Babe a sandwich and a cup of coffee, on the house of course, and once he was full and a little more awake they had offered him a job.

“I don’t know,” he muttered with a shake of his head. “I don’t think I can afford any more nights of childcare.”

“Just bring him with you,” Nixon offered casually as he bounced Danny in his arms.

Babe’s brain shorted out. “You want me to bring my toddler… to a bar?”

Nix had laughed quietly, handing the baby to his husband. “I mean, I’m not suggesting you set him up on top of the bar next to the drinkers all night. He can hang out in the office with me. He seems like a good kid. It’ll be fun.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” Babe stammered. Nix had never struck him as a man who would volunteer to babysit for free. The last thing Babe wanted was to impose on these men who had gotten him through a war and were being so kind now.

Nix had just scoffed in a strangely comforting way, rolling his eyes as he ran a gentle hand over Danny’s downy red hair.

So, Babe has brought Danny to his shifts at the bar ever since.

While Babe tends the bar, Danny and Nixon spend the whole shift in the back office. They play games, do Danny’s homework together, read books together. Hell, they even built a fort back there once. Nix is perfectly happy to let Dick do all of the actual work managing and maintaining the establishment while he and Danny bond.

Nix never drinks while he’s watching Danny - maybe that’s why Dick never complains - and he’s honestly an incredible babysitter.

It never escapes Babe’s notice how soft Dick’s eyes get when he watches Nixon interact with Danny. They don’t have kids of their own but both of them have paternal instincts a mile wide. Hell, they’ve basically installed themselves as Babe’s de facto dads after his family turned out to be less than supportive. They do everything a parent should - they look after him even when Babe tries to reassure them that they don’t have to, and they make him feel important and loved.

Currahee isn’t a particularly large venue. The bar seats seven people and there are five small tables with a couple of chairs each placed throughout the dining area. It’s not as dark as most of the bars Babe has gone to in his life, dives with stained floors and sticky countertops. During the day, light pours through the huge windows at the front and back of the building and at night the place is lit up by designer light fixtures that cost more than Babe can ever imagine spending.

The wall of bottles behind the bar is so tall that Babe has to climb a ladder to reach the shit on the top shelf. Nix’s own favorite drink, his beloved Vat 69, has pride of place in the center of the top shelf even though it isn’t the fanciest or most expensive brand they carry. It’s even specially lit. Every time Dick complains about it, Nixon secretly replaces the bulb with an even brighter one.

The bar gives off the vibe of a place you’d expect to have a decent menu of trendy appetizers, but Nix stated very firmly when he opened the place that he did not want to deal with the hassle of serving actual food. So they hand out wasabi peas and artisanal pretzels and dip instead.

The place has developed the reputation of being pretty high end, mostly due to Nix’s infatuation with expensive whiskey. Sure, they serve the same swill as most other places and Babe has learned to make at least fifty different types of mixed drinks, but most of their clientele have tastes leaning more toward the higher shelves than the lower. The exceptions tend to be personal friends of Babe’s - Bill, Liebgott, Toye, and the like - who come in to visit rather than drink and who cut their teeth on shit like Fireball and Southern Comfort instead of Daddy’s $400 bottle of cognac.

—-

About two weeks after Danny’s appointment, Babe and Danny hurry into Currahee. Some of the regulars cheer out their names and Danny waves happily as they walk back to the office.

Nix is waiting at the door, and he scoffs impatiently as Babe gives Danny a hug. “Gimme the kid or I’m taking your tips.”

Babe rolls his eyes and lets go of his son. “Nice to see you too.” Danny bounces over to give Nix a big hug and Babe watches with a smile. “Alright Dan, be good for Grandpa.”

It’s an old joke but Babe never gets tired of it. He loves the expression Nix gets - playfully offended with a well-disguised hint of pride underneath.

“I am NOT his grandfather! I’m 39 for Christ’s sake!”

“I mean, I’m 24 so technically it could work if you’d gotten a girl pregnant at 16 like I did.”

Nixon glares at him, trying to appear dignified even with Danny hanging off his neck. “No tips.”

Babe laughs and gets to work. It’s a boring shift, mostly spent preparing for the inevitable evening rush. He’s doing the menial tasks that everyone else hates but he doesn’t mind - wiping down tables, organizing and cleaning glasses, making sure the ice machines are on and full.

There aren’t very many people in the building and Babe can hear Danny, Winters, and Nix talking and laughing through the open door. A couple of barflies are seated at the bar nursing their drinks, as silent and unobtrusive as ghosts.

Babe doesn’t notice how quiet it’s gotten until Nix calls, “Babe?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t panic, and I cannot stress that enough, but you’re gonna want to come take a look at this. There’s something going on with Dan.”

Of course, Babe immediately panics. He clumsily sets down the glass he’s cleaning, somehow managing not to break it, and stumbles over his own feet as he rushes over to the office.

Danny is seated on the leather couch against the wall with the back of his shirt pulled up to reveal the soft, fair skin there. He’s covered in tiny red specks. They’re raised, spreading from the back of his neck down past the waistband of his jeans. When Babe puts his hand on the skin, they’re warm to the touch.

“What happened?” Babe demands, half-frantic.

“He was scratching and when I looked over I saw this rash all over his arms. It came out of nowhere,” Nixon explains with a worried frown.

Squirming in discomfort, Danny turns to look at his dad with tears in his big blue eyes. “It itches,” he whines through clenched teeth, his hands squeezing into tight fists.

“Oh buddy, I bet it does,” Babe says sympathetically, his heart in his throat. He wants to wrap his arms around him and pull him close but he’s afraid that even a gentle touch will irritate his skin further. “Do I take him to the hospital?” His voice is pitched too high, tight with worry.

Nix shakes his head. “I don’t think you need to do that yet. Dick’s looking up pediatricians who are open right now. If none of them can see you, then you’ll take him to an urgent care clinic.” Sure enough, Winters is sitting at the computer with his phone tucked between his shoulder and his ear.

As Babe tries to take deep, calm breaths, Nix reaches out and pulls him into a one-armed hug. He falls into it immediately. “Hey,” Nix says softly. “He’s gonna be fine. Kids get rashes all the time. You know how sensitive Danny’s skin is. You’re gonna get him seen by a doctor and it’s all going to be okay.”

“If I go, you’ll be short-handed.” Babe starts to run his hand soothingly through Danny’s hair.

“Kid, I own the bar,” Nix says with a laugh of disbelief. “Contrary to popular belief, I can manage serving beers to three guys in the middle of the afternoon. Don’t worry about it. Oh, and stay clocked in, too.”

“No, you don’t have to do that.” Babe’s brow furrows. “You don’t have to pay me for work I’m not doing.”

“We want to. Hell, Babe, you know we’d just give you the damn money if you let us. You two are our family.” He makes it sound so simple.

Babe feels choked up, but he’s saved from replying as Dick walks out of the office carrying a piece of paper. “This office is open and said they can take walk-ins today. They know to expect you. This is their address and phone number.” He grips Babe’s shoulder tightly like he used to do when Babe was anxious back in Iraq. “Call us as soon as you know anything.” It’s as firm an order as he’s ever been given.

“Yes, sir.”

Babe helps Danny pull his shirt back down and he tries not to feel too guilty when the clothes rub against his skin and make him cry. Dick and Nixon generously pay for a taxi to take them to the doctor’s office across town and Danny writhes against the seat to try and find a position that isn’t uncomfortable, to no avail. By the time the driver pulls over, he’s crying miserably. Babe tips the driver extra (it’s never fun to be trapped in a car with a distressed child) and rushes them into the office, not even bothering to look at the name of the doctor on the door.

The receptionist and nurse kindly get Danny and Babe back to a room right away, probably as much for their own benefit as their patients’. Danny is whining loudly as Babe helps him climb onto the exam table and take his shirt off. He keeps scratching at his skin and Babe doesn’t know much about medical shit but he knows that you’re not supposed to scratch chicken pox and he assumes the same rules apply here.

The rash looks worse now than it did at the bar; while it had looked like raised red freckles before, now it sweeps across his skin like swathes of red paint. What Babe really wants is to hold Danny and comfort him but he thinks it would just make it worse. So he stands beside him instead, carding a hand through his soft hair.

Fat tears start to roll down Danny’s cheeks as he hiccups in anguish. It breaks Babe’s heart. “I know it doesn’t feel good, buddy. We’re gonna make it better, I promise.” He presses a kiss to Danny’s forehead - one of the only spots not covered in hives.

“Is it chicken pox?” Danny blubs through his tears.

Babe shakes his head. “You got vaccinated for it. I don’t know what this is but we’re gonna figure it out.”

The two sit in the room unhappily, silent but for Danny’s sobs. Mercifully, it doesn’t take long for the doctor to knock on the door and let himself in.

“Oh!”

Babe turns to look over his shoulder and does a double take. Standing in the doorway is none other than Gene Roe.

It would be a lie to say that Babe hadn’t imagined seeing him again. In his daydreams, he imagined that he would feel surprised or overcome like a teenager with a crush, but all he really feels is relief. Even after only one appointment, Babe knows he can trust Gene to take care of his son.

“Gene,” he breathes, voice breaking.

The surprise melts off of Eugene’s face, replaced by warm, professional calmness. “Hiya, Edward.” His voice is low and soft, just as soothing as Babe remembers. Gene goes to the sink and thoroughly washes his hands, then moves to stand on the other side of Danny. He tries to smile brightly down at the boy but there’s concern in the way his eyebrows bunch together. “Hey there, Danny. Not feelin’ so hot, huh?”

Danny shakes his head, chin quivering.

“He got this rash outta nowhere,” Babe explains hurriedly.

“Can I see your arm?” Danny lifts the limb, letting Gene look it over. “Did you have any spots when you got dressed this morning?”

“No,” Danny says with a shake of his head. A rogue tear splats onto Babe’s forearm.

“Nix noticed he was breaking out about a half hour ago. I don’t know what happened.”

“We’re gonna figure it out, don’t you worry.” If there’s any voice more comforting than Eugene Roe’s, Babe can’t imagine it. “Is it okay with both of you if I look Danny over?”

For a moment Babe is confused. Why is he asking for permission to examine Dan? It’s literally his job. But then he remembers his behavior at their last appointment and flushes red in embarrassment. Despite his mild horror, he finds it incredibly sweet that Gene thought to ask so carefully before touching his son.

“Yeah. Yes, of course.”

“Great.” Gene smiles then, oddly, sticks his hands in his armpits.

With a furrowed brow, Babe’s frantic worry makes way for confusion. “I know you’re the doc here and all, but is that some sort of new way to examine a person?”

Danny gives a weak giggle and Gene laughs, actually laughs, and Babe’s heart thrills despite his nerves. “No, I’m just warming up my hands a little. They’re always icicles and I hate to touch patients with ‘em.” After a moment or two he deems his hands warm enough and puts on a pair of hot pink nitrile gloves. His touch is as gentle as can be as he runs his fingers over the bumps, examining carefully.

As Gene is looking him over, Babe’s phone starts to loudly vibrate in his pocket. Not wanting to take any of his focus away from Danny, he lets it go to voicemail. The vibration continues for a minute, pauses, then immediately starts again. Babe lets out an exasperated sigh.

Gene glances up and gives him a reassuring smile. “You can answer that. Danny and I got this, right?” Danny nods.

“Thanks, Doc.” Babe steps away so he’s not talking right in Gene’s ear. He pulls out his phone and sees BILL GUARNERE flashing at him across the screen - no surprise there. He accepts the call and pins the phone between his ear and his shoulder.

“Bill, everything’s okay.”

“Okay?!” Bill is shouting. His fear has always looked a lot like anger. It took Babe a while to figure that out, but he knows what to expect now. “I get a call from Winters saying you rushed Dan to the doctor and you’re telling me everything’s okay?”

Babe winces and catches Gene’s eye as he glances up, wary at the yelling voice. “Did Winters tell you what’s going on?” Babe takes Bill’s fuming silence as a denial. “Danny was hanging out with Nix and they noticed that he’s got some kind of rash. It came outta nowhere and it looks bad and he’s uncomfortable, but the doctor’s looking at him now. That’s all I know.”

Bill audibly takes a few deep breaths. “Put me on speaker. I want to talk to the kid.”

“He’s with the doctor,” Babe protests. “We’ll call you as soon as we know something, alright?”

“You call me as soon as they tell you more.”

“I swear.”

“You both okay?” Bill’s voice is calmer now but still gruff from stress. “Do I need to come get you?”

“We’re holding it together.” Babe rubs the back of his neck. “Don’t worry about a ride. We’ll grab a cab.”

“Alright. Call me if you change your mind. I’ll be waiting by the phone. Hey,” he barks as Babe starts to move the phone to end the call. “I love you.”

“Yeah. Love you too.” Babe finally hangs up and lets out a long, slow breath.

Gene glances up at him again with a neutral expression. “Was that Danny’s other dad?”

It takes Babe a second to comprehend that question fully. When he manages to decode it he barks out a laugh. “No. Jesus Christ, no. He’s just my best friend and Danny’s godfather. He loves Danny a lot but no. I’m Danny’s only parent.” He reaches out to stroke Danny’s hair gently.

“Not my only parent,” Danny says, a little calmer now. “All babies have a mom.”

Gene laughs gently. “You’re so smart, Danny. Do you live with your mom, too?”

Danny shakes his head, kicking his heels against the side of the exam table. “I lived with her for a little while when I was a baby but now I live with Dad all the time. I call her Aunt Sara.”

An odd look passes across Gene's face, there and gone again in a flash. It almost looks like relief.

“It seems like you have a lot of people looking out for you, Danny.” Gene looks up and smiles as he shifts to listen to Danny breathe.

“Yeah. I have Dad and Uncle Bill and my grandpas and Aunt Sara and Lieb, Julian, Bull, Toye…”

“Pretty much everyone we know, right kid? I mean, how could anyone not love you? Look at that face.”

Danny beams at him.

Gene works in silence for a couple of minutes before he takes a step back and removes his gloves with a snap. First he disposes of them, then comes back to stand next to the table. “Has Danny eaten anything new lately? Have you changed your laundry soap or bought him any new clothes?”

“No to the last two. But I guess he’s probably eaten some new stuff, yeah. I try to give him new food a lot.”

“Do you remember what he’s had recently?” Gene sits down at the computer and Babe, always nosy, watches him pull up Danny’s chart.

“I mean, just today or a few days ago? How far back?”

“Probably today or yesterday evening.” He’s already typing.

Babe scours his brain but he can feel a cold sweat breaking out on his forehead. Of course this requires him to remember shit. The harder he tries to remember, the blanker his mind becomes. It’s Babe’s nightmare - the health of his child depends on his shitty memory.

“Babe,” Gene says calmly, snapping him out of his building panic. “Take a deep breath. Take your time. I’m not in any rush.”

A tiny hand reaches out and grabs his own. “We went to that supermarket in Chinatown, Dad.”

Nodding, Babe has to grit his teeth against the shame rising like bile in his throat. He hates that his son has to compensate for his shortcomings, has to give him hints about things he should remember. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to think of what they bought. What did they look like as he set them in the shopping basket? What colors were they when he cut them up? Did Danny like them or did he leave them pushed to the side on his plate? Any little details can help, anything that makes those foods stand out more than others.

Suddenly Babe’s eyes snap open. “Cantaloupe! We got a cantaloupe melon and we had some with breakfast this morning. Right?” He glances at Danny who nods eagerly.

The smile Gene gives him is dazzling. “That would make sense. Fruit is a relatively common allergen.” He types ‘cantaloupe’ somewhere into Danny’s chart.

It feels a little pathetic to be so proud to have remembered one small detail, but Babe makes a mental note to tell his therapist about this at their next appointment. Taking small victories as they come - that’s one of the things they’ve been working on.

Gene twirls his chair away from his computer to face Babe and Danny. “The good news is that it doesn’t look like anything more serious than a minor to moderate allergic reaction. I know it’s uncomfortable but it doesn’t look like you’re having any issues breathing which is great. The bad news is that the hives will last for about a week and you’ll have to be careful with most melons from now on.”

Spinning back to the desk, he grabs a notepad and starts to write things down. “I’m going to prescribe Danny an antihistamine - here’s the correct dosage and how often to give it to him. I’m also writing down some lotions and soaps that might make him feel more comfortable. And some advice: no scented soaps, loose fitting clothes, let him air dry after his bath. It’s all here.”

It feels like Gene is going out of his way to write everything down for Babe so he can’t forget. It doesn’t feel condescending, though. On the contrary, Babe thinks he might be a little bit in love.

Gene hesitates for a second before he writes down one last thing on the slip of paper. “I don’t usually do this. I know it’s not professional and I probably shouldn’t, but seeing as you guys aren’t really my patients…” He holds out the piece of paper with the most delightful rose-colored blush seeping over his cheeks. “That’s my cell number. You can call or text me whenever you want.”

Babe takes the note and looks down to confirm that there is, in fact, a number written there. Surprisingly, Gene’s handwriting is perfectly legible despite the fact that he wrote it all pretty quickly.

“This is great, Doc, thank you.” It’s surprising that any doctor would give out their personal number. If Babe was a doctor he’d hate to have patients texting him at all hours of the day. “I’ll text an update on how he’s feeling tomorrow and let you know if I have any questions.”

There’s a strange moment where Eugene looks a little taken aback, like that wasn’t the response he was expecting. “Oh! Of course. Yes, that would be great.”

Babe is no stranger to the feeling of missing some vital part of a conversation - that’s sort of his sweet spot, actually - but he’s not sure where the gaps are in this one. But before he can figure it out, Danny tugs on his hand.

“Dad, I’m cold. I wanna go home.”

“Alright, hold your horses.” Babe helps Danny put his shirt on with careful hands, trying to keep from irritating his skin any further.

When they move into the hallway, Babe strokes the back of Danny’s hair. “What do you say, Dan?”

“Thank you,” Danny replies dutifully.

Gene gives him a warm smile. “My pleasure. Hang in there. I promise it’ll get better soon.”

Just as Babe is about to leave, he turns around to face Gene again. “Hey! You called me Babe.”

Gene looks startled. “I did? When?”

“Just now, when I couldn’t remember.”

“Babe.” It sounds like he’s tasting the word, turning it over on his tongue to see how it feels. Babe suddenly feels a little hot under the collar. “I guess I did.”

Babe can’t keep the stupid grin off his face. “Babe,” he mimics, putting on a terrible version of Eugene’s low drawl.

Gene rolls his eyes. “Heffron, get out of my damn office.”

He does, but they’re both smiling as he goes.

---

The next morning comes much too soon for Babe. He wakes feeling groggy and off.

Danny is normally a pretty great sleeper, but the previous night was the worst he’s had in Babe’s recent memory. The itching kept him from falling asleep and before long he was crying from exhaustion and frustration. Babe laid next to him in his little bed, petting his hair and humming until Danny finally fell asleep. In the end Babe had only gotten about two and a half hours of shuteye himself.

The apartment is still and quiet so Babe allows himself the luxury of rolling over to grab his phone so he can scroll through social media for a while. When he unlocks his phone, he can’t help but smile despite his exhaustion.

He’s got dozens of notifications waiting for him. Messages have been sent by both Winters (at a respectable 9:45 p.m.) and Nixon (sent at a less appropriate 3:08 a.m.) asking for updates about Danny. Babe had called them after the appointment to give them a report, but he knows that they worry.

There are also texts from Bill, Frankie, Liebgott, Toye, Lipton, Buck and Bull. Babe has unopened Facebook and Instagram messages from some of his army buddies like Luz, Perconte, and Malarkey.

Even Julian, still stationed overseas in the middle of a deployment, has sent him three messages demanding updates.

If Bill is like Babe’s older brother, then Julian is the younger one he never had. They met during Babe’s second deployment and he was always dogging Babe’s steps in Iraq, asking questions and pestering him and finding out every button to push to get under Babe’s skin.

But after Bill’s accident, Julian became a pillar of strength and support for Babe to lean on. It became impossible to find one more than ten feet from the other’s side and it stayed that way until it was time for Babe to go home. Julian could have been home by now but he keeps reenlisting, determined to try and make it as a career soldier. It’s hard to be away from him, but they make time to talk every other week when it’s possible to do so.

Babe is touched that someone thought to reach out to Julian and that Julian took the time to check in on Babe and Danny.

Babe isn’t embarrassed about the hot tears that prick the corners of his eyes. A lot of things changed when Babe got Sara pregnant. He’d expected - and dreaded - having to raise him alone, but these messages are proof of how wrong he was. He and Danny have a family, a network of people who love them and look after them; not just a safety net but a mountain of down pillows to cradle them should they ever fall.

Although he’d like to drift back to sleep for a little while, Babe knows he should respond to the messages before Danny wakes up so he gets to work. Winters, Nixon, Julian, and Bill each get their own texts. The rest of Babe’s friends are sorted into two big group chats: work friends and army friends. His reply is a short, poorly written, ‘everything’s fine. Didnt sleep for shit but all good. D still asleep,’ followed by a sleeping emoji.

After that task is complete, Babe gets busy with his morning routine. He has all the normal stuff he has to do - shower, get dressed, wake and feed Danny, head to work - but now with the added chore of administering medicine to a sleep-deprived and cranky child.

He and Danny spend their Saturday, as per usual, at Currahee. Nixon and Winters are fussing over Danny at one of the tables, cooing and tutting at the rash on his arms. Joe Liebgott is sitting across the bar from Babe and he snorts. “They’re gonna spoil your kid, Babe.”

Babe shrugs with a grin. “That’s alright.” He raises his voice. “What are grandparents for?”

Nixon flips him the bird.

“Besides,” Babe adds, “if you think he isn’t spoiled already then you need your head examined.”

Liebgott laughs as he leans across the bar to refill his own pint glass from the tap. “So what did the doctor say again?”

“It’s just an allergy. He gave me some… oh!” Babe interrupts himself and slides his phone out of his back pocket.

Liebgott raises an eyebrow in an expertly perfect look of distant curiosity. “‘Oh’ what?” Most outsiders find Liebgott abrasive and condescending, but Babe can confidently say that that’s just how Lieb talks.

“I gotta text Danny’s doctor,” Babe replies as he opens up his texts. The tip of his tongue pokes out between his teeth as he starts to type.

To: Gene Roe
Mornin doc. Dannys still red but it looks ok. Better. Didnt sleep a lot. Seems uncomfortable still

To: Gene Roe
This is Babe

To: Gene Roe
Edward

To: Gene Roe
Heffron

Lieb’s other eyebrow goes up in surprise. “The doctor gave you his cell phone number?”

“Yep. He was worried about Danny.” Babe sends the last of his chain of texts, trying not to cringe at what an idiot he is. “He wanted to check on him. Wasn’t that nice of him?”

“Babe.” Lieb’s voice is strained like he’s trying not to laugh. There’s incredulous amusement in the lines of his face. “I don’t care how cute your kid is. Doctors don’t just give out their cell numbers to check in on patients.”

The amused condescension in his voice is irritating and Babe lets out an annoyed sigh. “I don’t know what to tell you, Joe. That’s what he did.”

Liebgott cranes his neck to try and read what Babe’s typing. “What exactly did he say when he gave you the number?”

Feeling defensive about his clumsy text messages and knowing full well that Liebgott will torment him about them, Babe tucks the screen against his chest. “Christ, Lieb, I don’t know! Something about how he wouldn’t normally do it but he wanted to check on Danny.”

“Did he say the words ‘check on Danny’ specifically?”

The hate in his glare intensifies, but Babe knows that Liebgott will never be intimidated by him. “I don’t know! I can’t remember shit, you know that. But why else would he have given me his fucking number?”

Just as Babe’s irritation starts to blossom into genuine anger, Babe’s phone vibrates against his chest. The effect is instantaneous. Liebgott is forgotten. Babe’s face lights up as he peeks at the screen to see if Gene has responded.

From: Gene Roe
Good morning, Edward. I’m sorry to hear that Danny’s still feeling uncomfortable, but the antihistamines should be making a noticeable difference soon. He’ll be back to normal in no time. If he’s not, you should call Dr. Spina on Monday. I’ve already sent over the notes from our appointment. Tell him I say hello and that I hope he feels better soon.

From: Gene Roe
I’m always here if you need me. Truly.

Despite Babe’s best efforts to keep his expression neutral, he knows that he’s lit up like a Christmas tree. He’s always shown his emotions on his face like a projector and Lieb, like a fucking shark, has sharp enough senses to pick up on his mood swing immediately. His eyes scan from Babe’s eyes to his rosy cheeks to the tiny smile curling the edges of his lips.

“Fuck,” he breathes with delight, leaning forward. “You LIKE him.” He sounds absolutely gleeful in a way that tends not to bode well where Liebgott is concerned.

“No!” The protest is automatic, the same one he’s given to his older brothers a thousand times when they would realize he had a crush. Then Babe remembers that he’s a grown man, fully out of the closet and allowed to be romantically attracted to other people, so he sighs. “Yes.”

“I knew it! Fuck.” Lieb crows as he puts both his arms up like he scored a touchdown. “That’s great, man. I haven’t seen you crushing on someone before.”

“I literally made a baby with your cousin, the girl you set me up with,” Babe responds dryly.

Liebgott waves his hand like he’s trying to knock away a particularly irritating fly. “Yeah, but you didn’t LIKE her, like her. It’s different. She never made you look like a lovesick teenager even when you were teenagers.”

“I don’t look like that now!”

“Yeah Babe, okay.” Liebgott winks at him, annoying and smug, smirking into his pint glass. His own phone vibrates on the bar top and he picks it up to look.

When his attention is thoroughly diverted, Babe sticks out his tongue at him. Like Lieb is one to be giving relationship advice. The longest relationship he’s ever been in is with the same guy he’s been hate fucking for a year.

Finally free of Lieb’s scrutiny, Babe looks back at his phone. The excitement in his body is so strong that it almost feels like anxiety. His heart is racing, his fingers and toes are numb and staticky and his palms are sweating. It’s been a very long time since he’s had a crush on someone.

He dithers over what to say for the next few moments, his head swimming with his own attraction and what Liebgott is implying.

To: Gene Roe
Thanks. I cant tell you what that means to me :)

---

After that morning, Babe and Gene start to text each other pretty regularly. While Babe may not be entirely confident that Gene gave him his phone number for flirting purposes, he can at least acknowledge that his focus doesn’t seem to be entirely set on Danny’s medical wellbeing. Sure, the first few texts are awkward exchanges related to Danny’s allergies and overall health but once he seems to be basically back to normal, their discussions stray away from medical advice into ordinary conversations, the types friends would have.

They talk about all sorts of things: their favorite foods (Babe’s is a backyard grilled hamburger and Gene’s is something called etouffee that Babe has to google pictures of); the worst parts of their jobs (back pain/drunk frat boys and snot, respectively); funny stories about their days.

They still talk about Danny a lot, but Babe talks about Danny a lot to everyone. Danny is his #1 source of conversation material so it isn’t weird to talk about him with Eugene, too.

Shockingly to Babe, he isn’t always the one to text first. Gene seems just as eager to talk to him. If they go a few hours without saying anything, Babe can be sure that there will be a text from Gene waiting for him, asking if he’s okay or how his day is going.

One thing about texting Gene always stays the same: as soon as Babe gets a notification about an incoming text message, his heart starts to race and hears burn red and hot. Sometimes it’ll turn out that the text isn’t from Gene and Babe’s stomach drops with disappointment, but it’s all worth it for the times that it is him.

Because Babe displays his feelings like a museum exhibition, all of Babe’s friends know he’s sweet on Eugene Roe within two weeks. Plus, Liebgott’s a fucking loudmouth. Babe is forced to endure a certain amount of good natured ribbing, especially from Bill and Nixon, but babe is surprised at how little he feels embarrassed. Liking Gene feels good; great even. Even if nothing ever happens between them, just having a crush on him feels amazing. For the first time in a long while, he feels like the 24 year old man that he actually is.

Two weeks go by and the regular conversations and near constant texts between them leave Babe feeling like he and Gene are actually friends. Still, it’s a surprise when his phone rings on a Saturday evening.

He worked a day shift at Currahee so he’s spending his evening relaxing with Danny. They’re sitting on the sofa together, Danny working on an elaborate coloring page while Babe supervises and makes sure no crayons end up crushed in between the cushions. Their couch is a few years past its prime but he refuses to get rid of it. It’s broken in perfectly. The cushions are just on the right side of too soft, and until the thing dies on him Babe is holding onto it. He sinks into its familiar embrace with a sigh. The phone is on the arm of the sofa but it’s close enough that he is still able to pick it up on the second ring.

“Hello?”

Babe spares a fleeting moment to think about how indignant Bill would be to know that Babe doesn’t greet everyone with the ‘yeah’ that he hates so much. He can picture so clearly in his mind Bill waving his hands as he yells. It’s a good thought.

There’s a short pause on the other end of the line, like someone is hesitating. “Hi, Edward,” Eugene says finally, his voice warm and hesitant. It gives Babe goosebumps.

“Hi yourself.” Babe grins, reaching out to smooth down a wild cowlick in Danny’s hair, right at the back of his head. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” replies Gene, still sounding tentative. It’s a tone of voice Babe hasn’t heard from him before. “Am I interrupting your evening?”

“No, not at all!” The last thing Babe wants is for him to feel like he’s imposing or for him to hang up. “Danny and I are just doing some art before bedtime. He’s a genius, this kid. A real Picasso.”

Danny turns and grins at him.

“That sounds really fun. I’d like to be there to see it.”

“Yeah? You’d want to come and color with us?”

“Absolutely.” There’s no hesitation in that answer. “You’re raising a good kid.”

Babe’s heart thumps heavily in his chest and he has to bury his face in the crook of his arm to hide his blush from Danny and God. “Thanks. That means a lot coming from you.”

A few moments go by silently, only interrupted by the quiet rattles of Danny setting down and selecting different crayons. He doesn’t seem too bothered about Babe being on the phone but Babe can appreciate that they’re spending time together so he speaks first. Gene seems reluctant to and Babe’s always been good at filling awkward silences.

“You know I’m always happy to talk to you Doc and I’m definitely glad you called, but was there something you needed?”

“Actually, yes.” There’s a sense of firmness in his voice, a kind of determination. “Would you like to go on a date with me this week?”

Shock jolts through Babe, stealing his breath. Dating Gene Roe has something that has definitely been on Babe’s mind lately. Between Liebgott’s pestering and his own desire, he’s imagined Gene asking him out plenty of times. But he never thought it would actually happen.

Maybe it’s the gasp that gets Danny’s attention or maybe Babe has let out some horrible, humiliating little squeak, but either way his son turns and gives him a wide-eyed stare. Babe gives him a reassuring wave of his hand - everything’s fine - and Danny goes back to his coloring.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Yeah. Yes. I’d like that. A lot.” A broad smile stretches across Babe’s face, so wide it aches.

Gene lets out a slow breath, like he’d been holding it while he waited for Babe’s brain to reboot. “Good. Can I confess something?”

“Of course,” Babe says instantly, resolutely chasing any thoughts of confessionals, priests, or anything else related to the Catholic Church out of his head.

“At Danny’s last appointment, I didn’t give you my number so you could update me on how he was doing. I was giving you my number.”

A loud, sudden laugh bursts out of Babe’s mouth before he can reel it in. Danny turns to look at him with an annoyed expression before he turns back to his coloring. Eugene is quiet on the other end of the line.

“I’m not laughing at you, Gene, honest,” he rushes to say. “I’m laughing because I’m a fucking idiot. I’m not good at this kind of stuff. Totally oblivious. You gotta be direct with me or I’ll never get it.”

“I’m realizing that now.” Gene’s voice is utterly dry and it sets Babe off laughing again. When he’s managed to compose himself, Gene continues. “I know that your schedule depends on Danny and being able to find a babysitter. What day would work for you?”

“Oh, I don’t have to worry about a sitter,” Babe admits with an embarrassed chuckle. “My friends will all be so glad that I’m finally going out with you that they’ll all volunteer to watch him.” This time Gene laughs with him. “How about Tuesday at 6? I know it’s a weird night for a date but I have a late start on Wednesday so I don’t have to be up at the ass crack of dawn.”

“Tuesday at 6 is good. I’ll see you then, Edward.”

“I can’t wait.”

---

Babe’s friends, true to form, are total assholes about the whole thing, albeit in their own special ways.

Bill wavers between being relieved that Babe is going to have a normal young adult experience and being overprotective like he thinks Gene is going to tarnish Babe’s virtue (illegitimate child notwithstanding).

“I’m just saying,” he announces forcefully during their Sunday dinner, “we don’t know this guy from Adam. Bring some pepper spray and leave your phone on, just in case.”

Babe isn’t sure it’s medically possible for him to roll his eyes any harder than he does. “I fought in a war, Bill. I can protect myself without pepper spray. Besides, I’m not gonna fucking mace a doctor, Jesus Christ.”

“Doctors can still be shitty people! There was that one piece of shit, with the gymnasts…”

“Gene is not…”

“You can never be too careful!”

“Oh shut up, Bill,” Frankie says with a heavy sigh as she puts more food onto Danny’s plate. “Babe will be just fine. Besides, a hot pediatrician? Who could be more perfect for him?” She winks.

Babe could not love her any more.

Liebgott, on the other hand, is so unbearably smug about being right that Babe has to fight down the urge to throat punch him.

“My point is, Babe,” he drawls during lunch on Monday, tipping his chair back onto two legs. “If you’d just listened to me in the first place you could have been laid by now. Lord knows you could use it. I mean look how red your face is. You obviously need a good, hard…”

That particular sentence never gets finished as Babe kicks the front leg of his chair and sends Lieb sprawling onto the floor.

“Oops,” he says with an innocent smile.

Despite all the ribbing his friends give him, Danny is enthusiastic and excited about the date. Babe is initially hesitant to tell him, mindful of all the horror stories he’s heard about children reacting poorly when their parents begin to date.

“That’s so good!”

Babe raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You’re not upset?”

Danny shakes his head fervently. “Lieb says you LIKE him. Is that why you always get so embarrassing when you’re around him?”

“Remind me to never let you talk to Lieb again.”

—-----

On the night of their date, Babe ends up leaving Danny with Winters and Nix. Normally Bill and Fran are his go-to people for childcare, but it’s their date night too and Babe had refused to ask. He’d been almost weak with gratitude when Dick and Nix had offered instead.

They get to his apartment at 5:00, just in time to watch him panic about what to wear. There was a time in Babe’s life when he would have vehemently denied ever caring about the clothes he wears. That version of himself seems very far away now.

“Anything you pick out is fine,” Dick tells him kindly with an encouraging smile. It’s an expression Babe knows well, though he’s usually seen it before running headfirst into some sort of battle. “He’s going out with you because he likes you, not because of what you wear.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Nixon retorts lazily from the floor where he’s building a lego castle with Danny. “He showed up to our first date in cargo pants.”

“We were in a war zone!” It sounds like an argument they’ve had before.

“You could have put in SOME effort, Dick, that’s all I’m saying.”

“You didn’t seem to have too big an issue with it at the time.”

“I have told you a hundred times - I would have put out before the date even started if it meant I didn’t have to look at those pants. I still maintain that I was just trying to get you out of them in a non-sexual way. The fact that you took it as a sexy thing and were only too happy to go along for the ride is not…”

“This isn’t helpful,” Babe cuts in loudly, not particularly anxious to hear about Dick and Nixon’s first date sex. “And my son is RIGHT there.”

“It’s okay, Dad,” Danny says mildly. “I already know where babies come from.”

Winters has the decency to look apologetic. Nixon does not. He sits up and looks into Babe’s bedroom over the back of the couch.

“Look, kid, just wear your tightest pair of jeans and that short sleeved button up.” He twirls his finger in the air, trying to jog his memory. “The dark green one with the pine trees on it. The one that looks at least a size too small?” Winters and Babe give him incredulous looks and he shrugs. “You always get extra tips when you wear it to work. I figure that’s a good sign.”

Like a dutiful son, Babe heeds his advice. Of course, then he’s too early so he paces in the living room, shaking his hands out like that can dislodge his anxiety. “This feels like maybe it’s a bad idea.”

Dick traces his path with his eyes. “You’re just nervous, Babe. That’s perfectly normal.”

Danny is pacing next to his father, legs stretching out comically to try and keep up with his stride. “Perfectly normal,” he echoes.

“Gene doesn’t know what he’s getting into. That’s not fair, right?”

“He already knows you’ve got a kid,” Nix adds.

“He met me and everything,” Danny chirps.

Babe stops and looks down at his son. “I am not worried about him not liking you, okay?” He gently tilts Danny’s sweet little face to look up at him, putting his big hands on his cheeks. “There is no one I could ever love more than I love you. You’re the best kid in the whole galaxy and I would never date someone who didn’t think that. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Then what’s the problem?” Nix raises a dark eyebrow, drawing Babe’s attention back to him.

“The problem is that he doesn’t know anything about me or my family or my stupid, fucked-up brain…”

“Hey!” The sharp bite in Winters’ voice makes Babe stand up straighter, fighting the instinct to stand at attention. Danny lets out a quiet ‘oooh’ as though Babe has just been called down to the principal’s office. “You are not fucked up.”

Nix raises his dark, heavy eyebrows. It’s rare for Dick to curse, even when he’s repeating what others have said.

Dick walks over to Babe and grips his shoulder. “You are a good man, Babe. He’s lucky to go out with you. You guys are going to go out for dinner and you’re going to have a good time and it’ll all be fine.”

“That sounds like an order, sir.” Babe smiles weakly.

Dick’s stern expression melts as he chuckles softly. “It is, Private.”

---

Gene texts Babe an address that turns out to be the location of a nice, casual French restaurant. While he waits for Gene, Babe loiters outside on the sidewalk, clenching and unclenching his fists as he waits, trying to get out some of his nervous energy.

It’s been a very long time since Babe has been on a real date. After getting back from Iraq he had a few casual nights out, but a real date? No matter how hard he tries, he can’t think of a time he’s been on one.

Gene jogs up to him a few minutes late, looking terribly apologetic. “I am so sorry. My last appointment went longer than I anticipated and it threw off my whole schedule.”

Despite looking somewhat harried, Gene looks beautiful. Nice gray trousers have been paired with a mint green button down shirt, and it’s probably the same thing he wore to work but Babe couldn’t care less what he’s wearing. His cheeks are tinted with just the faintest tinge of red, and in the dim light his eyes are so dark they look black.

“That’s alright.” And even though Gene’s lateness had made him nervous, Babe really means it. He feels like he probably would have waited for Gene forever. “I don’t mind. It’s a nice night.”

Gene holds the door open for him like a real gentleman, touching Babe softly on his lower back as he walks by. The air around Babe seems to get ten degrees warmer.

The restaurant is the type of place that Babe’s parents never would have taken him growing up and where he’d probably never take Danny now. Even though most of the patrons are in some dressed up form of jeans and t-shirts, the tables are blanketed in pristine white cloths that are the nightmare of every parent. There’s a lit candle in the perfect center of each table, casting the diners in a flickering, romantic light. Babe can hear the sweet tones of cello music underneath the quiet rumble of a dozen or so soft conversations. It’s one of those places that manages to capture an upscale ambience while still staying comfortable.

Their hostess is a cheerful teenager with bright teal hair. “Welcome,” she chirps, smiling broadly and revealing rainbow banded braces on her teeth.

“Hi,” Babe says with a smile. “I like your hair.”

“Oh, thanks!” Her grin grows even larger as she reaches up to touch her hair. “How many in your party?”

Gene leans in to be better heard by her, his hand still resting on the small of Babe’s back. “I called ahead. Eugene Roe?”

It might be weird to be enormously charmed by someone being organized enough to make a reservation, but something about Gene’s pre-planning is really working for him.

“Of course. I’ll show you to your table!” She picks up two menus and escorts them to the back corner of the restaurant. Their table is tucked away - the only person who’d have any reason to walk by them would be their server. It feels intimate and secluded and incredibly romantic.

Babe automatically takes the seat that gives him the best view of the restaurant. It’s a reflex for him these days, something he does without even thinking. Having eyes on the entrances and exits, as well as on the rest of the patrons, makes him feel more stable, like he’s at least partially in control of the situation.

Gene doesn’t even seem to notice. He just takes the opposite seat with a smile at the hostess.

The hostess leaves and Babe opens his menu, his heart flopping uncomfortably as he realizes the menu is in French. Almost all of it.

His panic and confusion must be obvious because Gene smiles with absolutely no judgment. “Do you speak French?”

Babe breathes a sigh of relief as he’s spared the experience of begging for help. “I barely speak English,” he admits with a laugh. “Do you speak French?”

Gene rests his chin on his fist, smiling sweetly at Babe. “Not really, as far as the French are concerned. But yes, I do. My mother’s full Cajun so she and my grandmother taught me.”

“That’s…” Sexy, cute, accomplished, impressive. “Really cool. I never learned another language. I can say hi in a couple, but not much beyond that.”

“Oh? Which ones?”

Having the full force of Gene’s attention tuned in on him makes Babe feel a little dizzy and his mouth a little dry. He takes a sip of his ice water to soothe his throat. “I mean, bonjour.”

Gene’s face does a horrified little twist at his accent and pronunciation and Babe laughs. “I don’t think that counts.”

Babe pretends to pout. “Fine then. But I can say a few phrases in Irish, German, and Arabic. Just enough to be polite.”

“Manners are always important.” Another warm smile. Babe could get addicted to those if he isn’t careful.

“So they tell me,” he chirps cheerfully. He glances back down at the menu, remembers it’s in French, and looks back up again. “You been here before?”

Gene makes a quiet affirmative noise. “I like French food. I found this place a few months ago. It’s not too pretentious, which is nice, so I come here every once and a while.”

“You bring all your first dates here?” Babe bats his eyelashes playfully.

A blush spreads enticingly across the bridge of Gene’s nose. “No, just the special ones.”

“Ooh, that was smooth,” Babe laughs with delight. “What’s good here, then?”

“Everything I’ve tried so far, really. What kind of stuff do you like?”

“Plainer is better,” he admits, slightly shamefaced. “I want to like exciting food but I grew up with meat, potatoes, and a vegetable with a glass of milk on the side. Then I lived off MREs for a while, and now I survive primarily on chicken strips and PB&J so I’m not real experienced.” Babe takes another drink of his water, feeling more settled and comfortable now that their conversation has picked up.

“Don’t worry,” Gene murmurs, teasing. “I’ll be gentle.” Babe chokes on his water and Eugene tries (and fails) not to laugh at him. “Too much?”

“No,” Babe coughs, shaking his head as his eyes water. “Just took me by surprise. But not too much.”

The server comes by and Babe manages to order with a lot of intervention on the part of Gene, and when the food comes he’s happy to find that it’s actually really good. He hums happily and tries to remember his table manners, resisting the temptation to inhale it like he wants to. “This is really good. I’m so used to the shit I make for Danny and me that I kinda forgot what real food tastes like.”

“Then I’m happy I brought you here.” Gene smiles. “You mentioned MREs - what branch did you serve in?”

Babe freezes. Had he mentioned MREs? He usually avoids any topic that has to do with the military, especially on something like a first date. He tries to relax with a deep breath. He can do this. He can handle talking about his past for two minutes without a breakdown. “I was in the army. Paratroopers.”

Gene’s eyebrows go up in surprise and a rush of pride warms Babe from the inside. “Wow, that’s incredible. When did you get out?”

“My last tour ended… shit, I guess it’s been four years ago.”

“Is it something you like to talk about?” Gene takes a bite of his food, glancing back at Babe to meet his eyes.

That’s a surprise too. Most people just start grilling him about his time overseas without any thought about whether or not it’s something he wants to revisit. But he knows that Gene likes him and figures it would ruin the date to ask Babe to relive his trauma this early on.

“Not really,” he admits softly. “Sorry, it’s not about you at all. It’s just rough first date material, you know?”

“Of course.” Gene smiles warmly at him, not a hint of hurt or disappointment on his face. “Tell me about Danny.”

Babe laughs. “Now that’s another story entirely. I could talk about him for days straight. I’d bore you to tears.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to hear it,” Gene points out with a grin. “I wasn’t buttering you up when I said what a sweetheart he is. He’s one of the cutest kids I’ve ever met. Besides, it’s adorable to hear how much you love him.”

It’s hard for Babe to stop talking about Danny once he gets himself going. He knows it’s annoying. The only people who can stand it are Babe’s chosen family - his old army buddies, his best friends, the people who have chosen to love him. With anyone else, Babe can always tell that they’re waiting for him to move on to a different subject, that they’re trying to be polite while they really wish he’d stop.

Gene, as Babe is continuing to learn, is different. He actively participates in Babe’s stories about his son, asking questions about Danny’s interest and hobbies while providing his own anecdotes about some of the other kids he’s met and doctored. Talk of children leads to stories about their own childhoods, about school, about dating, and eventually about adulthood. It’s one of the easiest conversations Babe’s ever had.

Babe has never been shy. Growing up as the youngest in a large, exuberant family requires a certain level of boldness; a shy person might not have survived the experience. So he can carry a conversation pretty well simply through sheer force of will, but it can be exhausting to do so. With Gene, he doesn’t feel like he’s dragging the conversation along like a plow horse. It just ebbs and flows naturally like the tide. It’s almost relaxing.

As most parents would, Babe can’t help but check his phone periodically throughout dinner. It’s hard to be apart from Danny for anything other than work and he can’t help but worry about his kid even though he’s having a great time and he knows that Danny is having a blast with Nix and Winters. He only sends one text during dinner, waiting until Gene steps away to use the restroom. He sends a quick thumbs up emoji with a question mark to Dick’s phone and promptly receives, ‘Everything is fine. Stop looking at your phone, it’s rude.’ With proper punctuation and everything.

By about 9 o’clock the restaurant has quieted down considerably, hovering in that liminal space between open and closed when the wait staff is starting to act more human as they laugh and chat between themselves. No one has asked them to leave yet but the tables are being wiped down, the salt shakers are being refilled, and the floors are being swept. It leaves Babe feeling like his date has become more intimate, more private than before.

It’s about this same time that Babe’s phone vibrates in his pocket. “Sorry, I just got a text.” He pulls his phone out of his jeans, torn between being polite and being paranoid that something’s wrong with Danny. “Is it okay if I check it? I know it’s kind of rude…”

“Of course,” Gene insists, sweetly earnest. “You’re a dad, you should absolutely check it. I’m not going anywhere.”

A sudden rush of affection washes over Babe and leaves him feeling almost dizzy. He’s not sure he could have dreamed up a better man than Eugene Roe. It takes an enormous amount of willpower to unlock his phone instead of launching over the table at Gene and kissing him senseless.

His phone notifies him that Nix has texted him a picture and he opens it up, half-expecting to see some sort of damage or destruction wrought by Lewis Nixon and his son. Instead he finds a photo of Dick and Danny both passed out on the floor, each flat on their backs with their right arms flung out beside them, open-mouthed and probably snoring. Babe’s laughter prompts a curious look from Gene so Babe passes him the phone.

Eugene grins at the picture, his eyes going soft. “One hell of a resemblance. That your brother?”

Babe can’t help but chuckle; it’s not the first time someone has made that assumption. “We’re not related at all actually - he was my commanding officer. He and his husband, Nix - he sent the picture - left the army a little before I did and just ended up moving to Philly. It’s… it’s a long story but they’ve kind of adopted me and Danny. Nix owns Currahee, too, the bar I work at sometimes.”

“I think I remember you mentioning Nix at Danny’s last appointment. He was the one who noticed the rash at first, right?”

“Wow. You remember that?” Babe is impressed; he can hardly remember a conversation as it’s still happening.

“I like listening to you talk.”

Fuck, he’s charming. “No one likes to listen to a boy from South Philly talk,” Babe says with good-natured incredulity.

Eugene looks mock-affronted but his eyes are glittering with amusement. “You callin’ me a liar, Heffron?”

“I think I am. You’ll have to prove me wrong.” He smirks but Gene’s reply is interrupted by the server dropping off their check.

“Take your time,” she says, bright and friendly whilst still managing to convey that she very much wishes they’d leave. It’s a skill that Babe is vaguely envious of.

As Babe goes to reach for his wallet, Gene waves his hand quickly. “No, what are you doing?” He snatches the billfold before Babe can touch it. “I asked you out. I’m paying.”

“First dates are Dutch,” Babe says before he thinks to himself be bold. “You can pay for the next one.”

His bravery pays off when a smile stretches across Gene’s face. “The next one, huh?”

“I’m game if you are.”

Satisfied by Babe’s offer to let him pay next time, Gene agrees to split the bill although he insists on covering the tip. It’s gratifying to see that Gene is especially generous as an apology for them staying so late. Babe tends to measure the goodness of a person’s heart by how they treat their waitstaff and he thinks a 60% gratuity is a pretty good indication of Gene’s integrity.

As they head outside Babe scans the area for a waiting taxi, but they’re on a quiet side street at 9:30 so of course he doesn’t see anything. He sighs as he reaches for his phone to hire an Uber, resigned to the inevitable waiting he’ll have to do. He’s barely gotten the app open before Gene gently touches his arm.

“Can I drive you home?” He’s got a set of car keys in his hand and they clink satisfyingly as he shifts them in his palm. He doesn’t have many keychains, but there’s one or two attached to the key ring.

“I don’t live anywhere near here,” Babe protests although he’s already thinking longingly of sitting in a comfortable seat next to Gene on the drive home, of parking outside his building and leaning across the gear shift to press their lips together.

Gene smiles sweetly. “I don’t mind. I want to.” He grabs Babe’s hand and laces their fingers together and Babe thinks his heart might stop in his chest. He’s helpless to do anything but nod.

Since he’s a doctor, Babe is half expecting Eugene to drive something at least a little flashy, maybe a BMW or an Audi. God only knows the type of car Babe would buy if he was earning a doctor’s salary. But Gene’s car is a sensible Subaru Crosstrek in all black. The model is a few years old but it’s still in good shape - clearly it’s been kept up well. The interior is all gray leather and it’s comfortable as well, Babe discovers as he slides into the passenger seat. “I like your car.”

“Thanks. I’m not much of a car guy, but it gets me where I need to go.” Gene pats the steering wheel fondly. “So where am I headed?”

Babe gives him the address and grits his teeth against the instinct to be embarrassed. Like a lot of South Philly, his neighborhood is working class and almost completely across the city from the sweet little French restaurant they’re just leaving. But Gene doesn’t even blink, just puts the address into his phone’s GPS and heads off.

Within minutes, Babe is almost pathetically grateful that he accepted the offer of a ride. Not only are the car’s seats plush and comfortable, they’re heated too. Not to mention the fact that he and Gene talk and laugh the whole time. Babe points out different landmarks as they pass, different places where he’s gotten into fights or made a poor choice as a teenager. It feels like they’ve barely had any time at all before Gene is pulling up outside his apartment building. He puts the car in park next to the curb but neither of them move.

Finally Babe unbuckles his seat belt and turns to look at him, finding Gene already watching him. “I had a really, really nice time,” Babe murmurs with a smile and a blush.

“I did too.” Gene sounds relieved as though there were any possible way that Babe hadn’t enjoyed himself, or maybe he’s just glad Babe said it first.

Without any hesitation, Gene leans across the span of his car and presses a gentle kiss onto Babe’s mouth. It’s shy at first, giving Babe the option to pull away if he wants to. He definitely, absolutely does not. Instead he melts into the kiss and returns it eagerly, parting his lips to deepen it.

It’s been a very long time since Babe kissed anyone and he had forgotten how much he likes it, especially when the other person is someone he truly, genuinely has a crush on. He likes how his pulse kicks up, how warm his blushes make him feel, how nice it is to have someone else’s hands on his face, his jaw, tangled in his hair. And, fuck, Gene is a very good kisser.

They kiss sweetly and deeply for a few long minutes - though hardly long enough - before Babe forces himself to break away. There’s a hot desperation bubbling up in his stomach and if he lets it go much longer there’s no way he’ll be able to say goodnight. He has a kid upstairs he has to get back to and dignity to maintain and both of those things will go out the window if he can’t stop himself from climbing into Eugene’s lap.

“I’d ask to come to bed with me, but I don’t think Nix would ever let me live it down.”

Gene laughs, almost a giggle, and kisses him more chastely than before. “That’s alright. There’s no rush.” It’s luxurious to know that they have time, that Gene wants to see him again and wants to sleep with him but isn’t going to push for it.

Unable to resist temptation - it’s never been his strong suit - Babe draws Gene back into another long, deep kiss before he finally forces himself to leave the car and go inside. Gene stays parked in front of his building, waiting until Babe unlocks the door and waves before he finally drives away.

---

It doesn’t take long for them to schedule a second date. In fact, by the time Babe says his goodbyes to Dick and Nix there’s already a text waiting for him asking when they can see each other again. He’s not too proud to swoon back onto his bed in delight.

For their second date, Eugene takes Babe on a picnic. He finds a lush, shady spot in Logan Square to lay out a blanket and arrange a whole meal of food he’s made himself. All of it is absolutely delicious and Babe adds ‘good cook’ to the ever-growing list of reasons why Gene might actually be perfect. They spend the afternoon eating and talking and flirting and it’s so good to feel young again.

Puffy white clouds drift lazily overhead, alternately flooding their blanket in bright light then refreshing shade. Eugene lays back and pulls Babe with him so they’re both looking up at the idyllic blue sky.

“When’s the last time you stopped and actually looked at the clouds?” Eugene folds his hands over his own stomach.

Babe wracks his brain and finds that he can’t remember. It’s not a new sensation, though this time his memory is clouded not by trauma but by the passage of time. “Shit. I don’t know. Probably not since I was a kid.”

Gene scoots closer to him until they’re pressed hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder. He points up at a fat, puffy cloud as it floats by. “What do you see in that one?”

“Is this one of those…?” Babe waves his hand, trying to find the word.

“Rorschach tests?”

“Yes!” Babe slaps his hand against Eugene’s arm, delighted to have found the right word. “Are you doin’ some kind of psych eval on me, Doc?” He laughs as Gene pokes him in the side, tickling him. By the time he settles again the cloud Gene asked him about has already blown past, so he picks another. “That one up there looks like Great Britain. See?” He points his finger up at the sky. “There’s Wales, and Scotland’s up there somewhere.”

For a long moment, Eugene is quiet. Then he says, “You know, if I was doing a psychoanalysis on you, I’m not even sure what that would tell me.”

Babe just laughs, feeling lighter than he has in a long time. Even the sunburn that blooms on his face later that evening from spending hours in the sun is completely and utterly worth it.

---

Babe doesn’t adhere to the ‘third date is the sex date’ way of thinking. Sex happens when it happens as far as he’s concerned. He’s had sex on the first date and he’s waited until much later. But his third date with Eugene is definitely influenced much more strongly by lust than romance.

Their plans are dinner and a movie, but it really turns into dinner and necking in the back row of a dark movie theater. Some big budget action movie flashes across the screen but Babe isn’t sure he ever even got the name of it. It’s certainly not a priority right now.

Making out in movie theaters is something that Babe had never dared to do even as a teenager. He was always too afraid that one of his mother’s friends from church would be in the audience as well - she had a lot of friends and not a single one of them was ever content to mind their own business.

It turns out, he thinks blissfully, that it’s even more fun than he imagined, which is saying something because he’s always imagined it to be VERY fun.

---

Being a parent means finding a balance between one’s own happiness and the comfort and contentment of one’s child. While it’s undeniable that Babe enjoys dating Eugene immensely, he can’t help but feel that he’s failing as a parent by going out so often without his son. His friends frequently express their vehement disagreement, pointing out that Danny is seemingly unfazed by his dad’s short absences but it still niggles at Bab. For the past five years or so, his entire world has revolved around his child. But now, for the first time in ages, there is another person earning Babe’s attention and focus. More than that, he wants to give his time and affection to this new person, and that makes him feel guilty. Danny has to come first.

Babe already knows how kind and empathetic Gene is, so it’s no surprise that he’s wholeheartedly understanding when Babe confesses to him how anxious he is about potentially neglecting his son.

“You’re not a bad dad, Babe. It seems to me that you’re a pretty wonderful one, actually.” His voice is soft and reassuring. “But I know it must be hard to leave him.”

“Bill always used to say that I needed to practice leaving Danny with a sitter when he was little. Do you know how annoying he is when he’s right?” Gene laughs and Babe laughs with him, then he sighs. “I don’t want to stop seeing you.”

“That’s nice to hear,” Gene says softly, a smile evident in his voice. The line goes quiet and Babe can’t help but feel a little sorry for himself. Then Gene says, “Can I make a suggestion?”

Babe lets out a long breath of relief. “Please.”

“Why don’t you bring him with us, next time? I know it’s only been a couple weeks and it might be too early to do the whole ‘introduce me to your kid’ step, but to be fair I have already met him.”

Babe pauses and thinks it over. It seems like a great solution although not totally ideal. “Are you sure? I think it’d be a lot of fun but I know having my kid with us isn’t exactly sexy.”

Gene laughs sweetly. “That’s fine. I just want to spend time with you, Edward. I don’t really mind if it’s romantic or not.”

Babe feels like Gene surely must be able to hear him blush through the phone.

They plan on meeting on a Saturday afternoon that they both have off of work. Babe isn’t sure where they’re going or what they’re doing - Eugene says it’s a surprise - and normally that would make him anxious, but he finds that he’s almost shockingly calm. Maybe it’s because he’s getting better, but maybe it’s a sign that he really trusts Gene. That’s a nice thought.

On the day of their date, Babe leaves his apartment holding hands with Danny only to find Gene leaning into the backseat with his ass sticking out. It provides Babe with an excellent view, one that he takes full advantage of. When Gene stands back up he grins at them and over his shoulder Babe can see that he just finished setting up a booster seat.

Babe walks over and kisses Eugene sweetly.

“Are you gonna do that all day,” Danny demands with a whine.

“Probably,” Babe says with a cheeky grin, earning himself a scowl. “Nice booster seat, Doc. Do you just carry one around with you all the time?”

Gene blushes enticingly. “No, as a matter of fact. Never had any real reason to.” The ‘before now’ is left unsaid. “A friend gave this one to me; her kid just outgrew it.” He moves his gaze over to Danny. “You ready for a good day? I think I’ve planned out something pretty fun.”

There’s a moment where Danny gets a little shy, tucking himself behind his dad’s body. He nods though, so Babe takes that as a sign to get him set up in the booster seat.

When everyone is settled in and secure, Babe leans over to kiss Gene again. “It’s sweet that you thought about it. The booster seat, I mean.”

“‘Course I did.” Gene’s ears go adorably pink.

“Right. Doctor and all that.”

It turns out that Gene’s plans for their date consist of a trip to the zoo. Babe hasn’t been in years - since a high school field trip, probably - and when they get there he isn’t sure who’s more excited, him or Danny.

They take their time as they move from exhibit to exhibit, the only thing rushing them along being Danny’s breathless excitement. It’s not his first time at the zoo - he’s gone with Bill, Dick and Nixon, and for a few birthday parties over the years - but it hasn’t lost its appeal. He bounces from the big cats to the birds to the reptile house, spouting off facts about each animal to the men trailing behind him.

But his favorites are the giraffes. The Philly zoo lets the guests feed the giraffes and Danny is nearly overcome with happiness when one of the giants bends its long neck to curl a purple tongue around the branch he’s offering. Danny reaches out and takes Gene’s hand, his neck tilted back as far as it goes, his eyes wide and full of awe. Gene beams down at him.

Watching them takes Babe’s breath away more than any giraffe ever could.

—

Over time, Babe and Eugene gradually offer to each other more and more parts of themselves, as tentative as the offering of a flower or an open hand. Most of these traded fragments are small, sometimes a little more significant, but Babe is very aware of the secrets he’s keeping. There’s so much he hasn’t told Gene yet, key things about his past, his present, his whole life that have formed and warped him over time.

Until everything is laid out on the table, Babe knows he isn’t being fair. He feels like a liar. Gene can’t commit, can’t love what he can’t see. Babe can’t rope him in, hold him tight and keep him there when he doesn’t have the whole picture. When he can’t see the damage.

But the idea of baring his soul to Eugene is frightening. All Babe wants is to weave Gene so deeply into his life that they can’t be untangled. But he knows that he comes with a lot of baggage, burdens that others may not want to try and carry with him. There’s always the chance that Gene will decide that the relationship - that Babe - is too much work, too broken.

Although Babe knows that it would be smarter to keep Eugene at arm’s length, he succumbs to his own desperate need and pulls Eugene into his bed relatively quickly after their date at the zoo. Babe is still a very young man, just as susceptible to lust as most, and he hasn’t had sex in… too long. He doesn’t like to think about how long it’s actually been. Ever since they first met, all Gene has to do is walk into the room and Babe’s mouth starts to water. Whenever they’re together he’s bombarded by frankly distracting and intrusive thoughts about what he’d like to do to the man and what, precisely, he’d like the man to do to him.

But just because he wants it doesn’t make it easy. Getting laid as a single parent is never a simple thing. His separation anxiety prevents him from spending a full night at Gene’s apartment, away from Danny, no matter who’s watching him. But he wants them to have a full night, as long as they can get - he certainly doesn’t want to plan on leaving immediately after what he assumes will be pretty incredible sex.

His own apartment isn’t ideal, either. It’s small and cramped, usually pretty messy, and runs the very real risk of them being interrupted by a child. They don’t have the freedom to be spontaneous or loud and Babe is reluctant to put such limitations on either of them.

In the end, Gene makes the choice for him. He’s just as eager to sleep with Babe as Babe is to sleep with him - which is flattering - so when they go to Babe’s apartment for dinner and a movie, he’s the one who makes the first move by taking Babe’s hand and leading him to his own bedroom.

The sex is… mindblowing, breathtaking, the best Babe’s ever had. Babe has hooked up with plenty of people before - men, women, both and neither - and a lot of it has been perfectly satisfying. But sex with Gene is full of pleasure and laughter and genuine affection in a way that Babe hasn’t experienced before. They just fit, both physically and emotionally, and not once does Gene fail to make him feel like the Earth is shaking beneath him. They communicate with one another and find joy in each other and Babe always finds himself teetering on the edge of saying three words that it’s far too early to say.

It’s fun and new and utterly wonderful.

But sometimes Babe lies awake long after Gene has drifted off to sleep, infected with and tormented by guilt. Is he lying to Gene by not telling him the whole truth? Would Gene still want him, if he knew it all?

---

Babe and Gene go on date after date after date. Neither of them makes any grand declarations of monogamy or commitment but they don’t really need them. As far as Babe can tell, they’re both satisfied with what they have. Besides, even if one of them feels the desire to see other people, neither of them has the time.

In any case, Babe’s brain promotes Gene from ‘that one doctor’ to ‘the guy I’m seeing’ to ‘my boyfriend’ smoothly and easily. He worries a little about whether or not Gene thinks of him in the same way but he doesn’t mention it, afraid that he’ll upset some sort of delicate balance.

After about a month and a half of seeing each other, Bill encourages Babe to invite Gene to one of their Sunday family dinners. Well. ‘Encourages’ might not be the correct term; ‘demands’ is a better fit.

“If he’s gonna hang around then he needs the ol’ Guarnere seal of approval,” Bill says stubbornly and brusquely over the phone. “I gotta make sure he’s good for the family.”

“Jesus Christ,” Babe complains in an exasperated whine. “You sound like the fuckin’ Mob.” Bill just hangs up on him.

Still, Babe knows that he’s right. The importance of family is a value that has featured strongly throughout Babe’s life and Bill is his family. He wants the people he loves to know Gene, he wants them all to get along.

Despite feeling that it’s the right thing to do, Babe still passes along the invitation with clammy palms and stress sweat gathering under his arms. Gene, calm as ever, just says, “I’d love to come. What should I bring?”

Sundays have a pretty set routine in Babe’s life. Bill and Fran go to Mass in the morning at the neighborhood’s big, Italian church and they’re there until about noon. There was a time in Babe’s life when he would have gone to Mass just as faithfully, when he would have shared a pew with his own family and found comfort in the rise and fall of the priest’s voice, but that part of his life is firmly behind him.

Instead, Babe and Danny spend the morning playing at their apartment until Mass is over. The Guarnere house is only a few blocks away so, barring terrible weather, they usually just walk over and spend the rest of the day with Bill and Fran.

Bill’s home is one of Babe’s favorite places. It’s an old rowhouse in the heart of working-class South Philly with a tiny front porch and a roof that leans just a little to the right. The building is narrow and three stories tall, which is admittedly not ideal for a resident with a prosthetic leg. But, as with every other obstacle thrown at them, Bill and Fran are nothing if not resilient and they’ve made it work.

Nothing in the house is new; all of the furniture is second hand. There are no rugs on the wooden floors because they get caught on Bill’s crutches when he uses them, but it doesn’t make the rooms feel cold. The floors are a warm, dark color that seems to absorb and reflect the warm natural light that floods in through the wide windows. The walls are littered with family pictures - both Bill and Fran come from large families - but among them are many pictures of Babe and Danny that never fail to make him feel like he belongs in this home, with this family.

More than anything, their home is welcoming and full of warmth and laughter. Growing up, there had always been things in Babe’s house that he wasn’t allowed to touch - white couches, porcelain figurines, expensive vases. He always felt like he needed to be careful in his own home, that he needed to tiptoe and be always gentle. He had as happy and carefree a childhood as any other kid, but all of his wild moments happened outside or at school; he was all too aware that one wrong move inside his house could result in something being broken and his mother being furious. But at Bill’s house, Danny is free to touch and run and play without any fear of discipline should he accidentally break something.

The first time Danny had accidentally knocked into a table, sending a mug careening to the floor, Babe had tripped over himself trying to apologize.

Bill had only shrugged as he took out the broom and dustpan. “This house is his as much as mine. If something breaks then it shouldn’t have been there in the first place.”

On the Sunday that Eugene comes for dinner, Babe gets there early and ends up loitering on the front steps until Frannie and Bill get home.

“‘Eyyyy,” Bill calls with a grin as he sees them. “How’s my favorite guy?”

Babe doesn’t bother answering, already perfectly aware that Bill isn’t talking to him. Sure enough, Bill walks right over and picks Danny up into a tight bear hug.

“Uncle Bill!” Despite the fact that they never go more than a week without seeing each other, they always act as though it’s been months. “Can we play paratroopers outside?”

“Let me ask the boss.” Bill and Danny turn wide, beseeching eyes on Frannie who sighs.

“Alright, alright. But don’t get too dirty!”

Bill and Danny hustle out back to the postage stamp of a backyard, leaving Babe and Frannie to get the food ready for dinner. Babe can feel his anxiety bubbling in his gut and the palms of his hands are damp with sweat. Fran must notice because she places a soft, well-manicured hand on his arm. Her nails are always long and dark red and it might make her look intimidating to some people, but Babe associates it so strongly with Fran that it’s become a comfort to him.

“Take a deep breath,” she coaches him. Babe learned early on that listening to her is a good idea so, as always, he does what she says. Ignoring her advice has gotten him into trouble more often than not. “You know everything is going to be fine. Bill talks tough but he won’t scare Gene off because he knows how much you like him and he loves you and wants you to be happy. Besides,” her eyes crease in a smile as she cracks her knuckles, “I’ll keep him in line.”

Babe knocks their shoulders together. “I know, I know. I just want them to get along, that’s all. What do I do if they don’t like each other?”

Fran snorts. “My husband is a simple man, Babe. As long as Gene is good to you and Danny and reasonably nice to Bill they’ll get along just fine.” She hands him a stack of plates. “Now go set the table. Take your mind off it.”

Gene shows up exactly on time, a major step in the right direction as far as Bill approving of him is concerned. When the doorbell rings, Babe tries to reach the door first, he really does, but Bill gets there alarmingly quickly for someone with one leg and a kid clinging to his arm. He wrenches the door open with an intimidating glower on his face.

Gene has a big bouquet of brightly colored flowers in his arms and a bottle of wine in his hand. Seemingly unbothered by Bill’s striking unfriendliness, he smiles calmly, cool as a cucumber. “Hi, you must be Bill Guarnere. I’m Gene, Babe’s boyfriend.”

Babe’s heart flutters with joy at the words and he blushes harder than he can ever remember blushing in his life (except maybe after his first ever kiss with Abigail Popa in fifth grade). It’s the first time Gene has referred to Babe as his boyfriend and Babe hadn’t realized how much he was longing to hear it.

Bill’s attempts to look touch and unapproachable, while usually very successful, are somewhat undermined by Danny throwing his arms out to hug Gene tightly. “Hi!”

Gene’s demeanor changes instantly. His almost-forced sense of calm breaks as he hugs Danny back with a bright smile. “Hey there, cher. I’m happy to see you too.”

“Bill Guarnere, who raised you? Ask our guest in,” Fran snaps as she walks into the front room. Obedient and slightly shame-faced, Bill barely avoids being elbowed sharply out of the way by his irritated wife. Once the doorway is clear, Fran takes the flowers and wine from Gene’s hands and ushers him into the house. “I’m Frannie Guarnere. It’s so good to finally meet you; Babe’s told us so many good things.”

Gene blushes sweetly, looking pleased. “It’s nice to finally meet you too, ma’am. Babe’s always talking about what good care you and Bill take of him.”

Babe has waited so patiently for Gene’s attention and it’s made worth his while when Gene comes over and kisses him hello. “Hey, Edward.”

“Hey yourself.”

All things considered, dinner goes surprisingly smoothly. Bill loosens up, as he usually does, after some wine and conversation until he’s back to his easy-going and charismatic self. Babe is glad to see it. Bill really is a very charming man, funny and warm and fun to be around once he lets his walls down a bit and he’s relieved that Gene can see even a glimpse of the reason Babe loves him so much.

“So,” Babe says while Gene is in the kitchen helping Fran with the dishes. They’re still sitting at the dining room table with Danny who is drawing some sort of bright bird with colored pencils. Babe rubs a hand over his back, mindlessly and affectionately. “Does Gene get your seal of approval?”

“I dunno,” he says gruffly. “What do you think, kid?”

Danny lifts his head with a confused blink. “About what?”

Bill gives an exasperated sigh while Babe chuckles. “He wants to know if you like Gene.”

“Oh! Yeah, I really like him. He knows all these really fun games and he makes really good food. Plus he likes cats and dogs the same amount, just like me.” Having said his piece, Danny goes back to coloring.

Bill spends a moment considering this information before he nods. “He seems like a good guy. He definitely seems to like you, Christ knows why.”

“Gee, thanks.”

Bill grins, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, he seems like a good fit for you.”

Babe laughs, relieved.

Later, Babe walks Gene out to his car. They kiss up against the side of the vehicle for a while, neither of them getting carried away but both of them just enjoying each other’s company. When they pull apart, Babe is so glad to hear him murmur, “I really like your family.”

—

After Danny, Bill, and Fran, the only people Gene has left to meet locally are Babe’s work buddies from the construction company. The day that Gene decides to stop by is warm and bright, so Babe and the rest are eating their lunch outside.

Gene introduces himself to everyone with a comfortable, “I’m Babe’s boyfriend.”

It’s not the first time that Babe’s heard it, but it still makes him so happy that he feels like he could burst. It takes a lot of willpower to keep himself from kissing Gene until neither of them can breathe. His feelings must show on his face because Liebgott pretends to vomit and the rest of the guys are smirking at Babe tellingly. All of them except Lip, of course, who very politely introduces himself and starts to make friendly small talk with Gene.

Babe meets Eugene’s friends, too. His closest friend is a neurologist named Renee who works at the University of Pennsylvania’s hospital. They met during medical school and maintain a close friendship despite both of their hectic schedules. There’s something about Renee that comes off as very intense to the point of sternness. She speaks bluntly and Babe can’t tell if it’s because she’s French or if she really is just that brusque. The more they talk, however, the more Babe realizes that she’s actually a warm, genuine person who, like himself, is dedicated to the health and happiness of Eugene Roe.

Almost all of Eugene’s friends are doctors or intellectuals and for quite a long time Babe feels self-conscious around them. He’s a single dad whose education stopped at his high school graduation. They come from various, far-flung locales whereas Babe was born and raised in South Philadelphia and has barely left the country.

But all of Gene’s friends are nothing but kind and welcoming to Babe. They seem to appreciate how head over heels he is for their friend and glad that Gene has found a relationship that makes him happy. Before long Babe has bonded with them over things like trashy television and video games, and he doesn’t feel so much like an outsider anymore.

—

Danny’s eighth birthday comes after Babe and Gene have been dating for around four months.

Birthday parties were never a huge deal for Babe growing up. He had them, of course, but they were more like neighborhood get-togethers than actual birthday parties - gatherings of all the neighborhood kids and their parents with the added benefit of several huge sheet cakes. They certainly never had any sort of theme. His mom would go to the dollar store and buy some balloons to put on the front porch and Babe was always grateful for what he got and he never wished for more.

For the first several years of Danny’s life, his birthday parties were pretty similar to the ones Babe had been raised with. But Nix, the only son of a stupidly wealthy businessman, had been horrified at the very idea of Danny having another generic, blandly decorated birthday.

The week before the party, Nix and Winters show up at Babe’s apartment, unexpected and frankly uninvited, with armfuls of space-themed decorations. It’s become something of a tradition over the five years Danny has been in their life. They unload bag after bag of streamers, plates, napkins, stickers, noisemakers, and a million other things that Babe would have walked right past at the store because he has no idea what the fuck they are or what purpose they might serve.

Winters looks about as exasperated as Babe feels, although he’s still participating. It’s clear he thinks Nix has gone overboard but knows better than to express his feelings about the topic out loud.

“Don’t worry about anything, kid,” Nix crows as he shoves all of the party goods into Babe’s tiny front closet. “I put in the order for a cake and I know a guy who’ll take care of all the food.”

“Nix,” Babe says with a heavy sigh as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “The party doesn’t need to be catered. Danny’s turning eight and his favorite food is chicken nuggets. I could make frozen pizza and he wouldn’t care.”

Nixon tuts and ruffles Babe’s hair. “When will you learn that these parties aren’t just for Danny; they’re for you.” Then he turns and breezes out of the apartment again with Winters trailing behind him.

On the day of the party, Babe’s apartment has been transformed. Planets of all sizes and colors hang from the ceiling, streamers are draped from wall to wall, and every piece of furniture has been shoved against the walls to make room for all the people who love Danny.

It’s bittersweet. On one hand, Danny is surrounded and celebrated by everyone he knows; Bill and Fran, Nix and Winters, all of Babe’s friends and coworkers who could possibly make it, Gene, and of course Babe himself. In addition, the apartment is jammed full of seven and eight year olds, friends of Danny’s from school. Danny is the happiest little boy who ever lived, laughing and beaming as he’s smothered in affection and gifts and joy.

(“Aunt Sara”, Danny’s biological mother who isn’t really involved in his life, sends a huge lego set and a sweet card.)

But Babe can’t help but think of the fact that none of his biological family are in attendance. He’d sent out invitations to each of his relatives but even Babe’s sister, the only one of his siblings who makes an effort to stay in touch, only sends a short text wishing Danny a happy birthday.

Babe has a large family - his Ma and Dad, his three brothers and one sister, his grandparents, countless aunts, uncles and cousins - but none of them are there. Most of them haven’t even spoken to Babe in a year or more, not a text or an email or a passed on message. The only blood relatives of Danny’s who are at the party are Babe and fuckin’ Liebgott. And Babe knows that Danny doesn’t know any better. He’s never met any of his paternal relatives so he probably doesn’t even notice their absence. But Babe does.

In the grand scheme of things, blood means very little. The most important people in Babe’s life are his chosen family, the people who have stood by him through all of his struggles, who have seen his flaws and made the conscious choice to love him anyway. But it still stings to be so thoroughly rejected by the people who are supposed to love him most.

In a melancholy moment, Babe stands off to the side and watches as Danny and the other kids play pin the tail on the donkey. Bill, Lipton, and Toye cheer him on wildly as though he’s about to win some sort of race.

Someone walks up next to him, their shoulders brushing softly, and he turns to smile faintly at Gene. He’s got two space-themed paper cups in his hand and he passes one to Babe.

“Y’alright, Edward?” Gene rubs his hand over Babe’s back softly.

“Yeah.” Babe sighs and looks over at him. “Just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Gene teases mildly. He relaxes slightly, relieved when Babe cracks a genuine smile.

“Yeah, yeah. Rude, that’s what it is.” His grumbling is silenced as Gene leans in to peck him on the lips.

They stand quietly for another moment or two, just enjoying each other’s company. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Nah, not today.” Babe doesn’t want to spend his son’s birthday moping. Today is about Danny, not his own demons. “Someday, though.” It sounds like a promise.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

---

Everything goes to shit six months in.

For six months, Babe is astonishingly happy. Danny is healthy and wonderful, growing like a weed with every passing hour. The baby fat begins to fade from his face as he continues to sprout into a long-legged kid instead.

For six months, Babe and Gene’s relationship blossoms until Babe is helpless against the love he feels. When he finally says the words “I love you” they are returned instantly and with great feeling.

It’s not perfect, of course. Babe has a quick temper and Gene is pretty hot headed himself so they argue pretty frequently. Babe is messy and Gene is neat to the point of obsession (as far as Babe is concerned); Gene works long hours and is often gone, and Babe is constantly trying to juggle his relationship with his boyfriend and his relationship with his son.

But things are good. Even when he’s angry or annoyed or anxious, Babe is happy.

On the day everything falls apart, Babe lets himself into his apartment after work, physically exhausted from exerting himself all day and very much looking forward to a long, hot shower. Danny hasn’t gotten back from school yet and Babe is eagerly looking forward to half an hour alone with just him and hot water.

The apartment is still lit with daylight and the gentle twinkling of Christmas lights strung up along the walls. They’re only a few days past Christmas and all of the decorations are still up, including the massive fake tree that Babe and Danny painstakingly deck out each year. Someday, Babe wants to get a real one. He wants to hike into the woods and cut down the best tree, wants to be surrounded by the scent of pine. But for now their plastic tree suffices well enough.

It doesn’t occur to him that his front door was already unlocked until after he hangs his coat up and slips his shoes off. Alarms shriek in his head as he holds his breath, slowly inching into his living room with Danny’s little league bat in his hands. He drops it to the ground with a great rush of breath when he notices Bill sitting on his couch.

“Jesus Christ, Bill. You scared the shit out of me.” He chuckles and takes a step closer, but Bill’s pale, tearstained face and bloodshot eyes stop him in his tracks. “What, what is it? Is it Danny? Fran?” Babe can hear the breathless panic in his own voice, the ragged edge of it. Bill doesn’t answer and Babe takes another large step closer. “Tell me what’s going on!”

Bill stands, his hands trembling as he holds them out to pacify Babe like he’s trying to calm a spooked horse. He seems exhausted and Babe is so used to seeing him cocky and energetic that it only makes him more frightened. “Danny and Fran are fine.” Bill sighs. “Babe, just… just sit down, will ya?”

Babe’s feet move of their own accord. They carry him to his armchair and he sits down heavily, woodenly as his fingers start to tingle and go numb. If Fran and Danny are both fine, what could make Bill look so drawn and miserable? Is it Dick or Nix?

There’s a large footstool in front of the chair and Bill sits down on it, putting himself in front of and a little below eye level with Babe. He puts a large, heavy hand on Babe’s knee. Even though he’s been out of work for years, his fingers are still callused, weathered and cracked at the cuticles like they always get when it’s cold outside. That hand has saved Babe before and he reaches out to grasp it.

“Hell, I don’t know how to say this.” Bill’s voice shakes as he runs a free hand over his face. When he lowers it, there are tears in his eyes again, spilling over and running in streams down his cheeks. “Julian was killed in action. He’s dead, Babe.”

The room goes silent except for the faint hum of distant traffic and the buzz of a housefly from somewhere in the room. For a long moment Babe doesn’t comprehend Bill’s words at all.

It’s impossible for Julian to be dead. They’d talked less than a week ago, they had video messaged and Julian had been as young and vibrant and whole as he’s ever been. His current deployment is set to end in two months and then he’ll be home and safe with his mother again. How can he possibly be dead?

“He’s not,” Babe croaks in a strangled voice, his head shaking slowly.

A spasm of grief flickers across Bill’s face. “I’m sorry, Babe. He is.”

Slowly, insidiously, a deafening roaring begins to fill Babe’s ears. He shakes his head like a dog to try and clear it out but it just continues to grow and grow until Babe can’t hear Bill’s voice at all anymore. It’s like he’s muffled, talking through a thick stone wall. Babe catches a few words - sniper, head, suffer - and vomit rises hot and acidic into his throat.

Babe lurches out of his chair, narrowly avoiding headbutting Bill in the process, and he scrambles toward the kitchen sink. His stocking feet slip on the linoleum floor as he collapses against the tiled countertop and he grips it hard to keep himself standing. A chip in the ceramic digs into the flesh of his palm as he empties his stomach onto the dirty dishes that he’d been planning on washing later in the evening.

“Shit,” Bill hisses behind him before he hears the distinctive ‘step-thump-step’ of Bill’s hasty approach. Bill’s big hand comes to rest between Babe’s shoulder blades but he flinches away like it burns him. “I’m so sorry,” Bill murmurs, choked and sad. “I know the two of you was close.”

Babe’s heart throbs in agony. Bill is right. John Julian had been the only reason Babe survived after Bill was wounded and sent home. Babe would have walked into a burning building, stepped on a landmine, stood in front of a bullet to make the hurting stop if it hadn’t been for him.

Julian, a young idealist who just wanted to be a hero in a war that never should have happened in the first place. Julian, who volunteered a second tour and had sworn, promised that he’d be okay even without Babe there to watch his back. Julian, a real live virgin who’d never had a date, now dead before his 24th birthday because Babe wasn’t there to shield him, keep him safe.

Things go fuzzy after that.

Babe’s brain shuts down, hides from the pain so thoroughly that he only has a few moments of awareness over the next few days. The first time it happens, he finds himself tucked into bed in his pajamas, hair wet from a shower he doesn’t remember taking and his mouth minty from toothpaste he doesn’t remember using. He can hear the low voices of Gene and Bill in the other room and he pulls his comforter over his head.

Then he blinks and it’s afternoon and he’s sitting at his dining table. There’s a turkey sandwich on a plate in front of him and a bite of it in his mouth, tasting like ash. Winters is sitting on his left, his warm, long-fingered hand rubbing circles on Babe’s back. Nix is on his right, talking soft and low to Dick but Babe can’t understand what he’s saying. He spits the sandwich into a napkin.

Suddenly it’s dark out and he’s staring at himself in the mirror, pale and gaunt with deep purple circles under his eyes. There’s bruises on his arms but he can’t remember where he got them.

The sensation of losing time is becoming increasingly familiar and Babe is aware he should probably be worried or unsettled. He’s supposed to remember these little details of his life, at least for a while, but he just feels like he’s trapped in some sort of dream that he knows he can’t wake up from.

Underneath the scraping agony of his grief is an unrelenting, rotting guilt. He should have been there to save Julian. It should be Babe’s body in a flag-draped casket instead of Julian’s. Julian, whose mother still loves him and who had so much potential to do important, wonderful things for the world. He was so smart, so much smarter than Babe, and eager and bright.

As thoughts of Julian haunt him, so too does his failure as a parent. How can he be a good dad when he can’t even take care of himself? He so, so faintly remembers someone saying that Winters and Nix are taking care of Danny but a better parent would be able to take care of their child themselves. Babe can’t even think of the last time he held his son. Has it been days? He’s not even sure what day it is.

It isn’t like he never sees Danny. Now that Babe is taking time off of work, he has a lot of free time. Every afternoon he goes over to Dick and Nix’s house and waits for Danny to get home from school. They spend all evening together, playing games and watching TV. Babe tries to be an active participant despite his exhaustion, tries not to let Danny see how hurt and broken he is.

When the sun sets, he helps give Danny a bath and reads him a bedtime story. Then he goes back to his apartment, alone. Every cab ride back to his apartment is agony. What kind of father drives away from his kid every night?

Thoughts of Gene also bring Babe’s guilt bubbling to the surface. In addition to being a terrible dad, he’s a horrible boyfriend. He’s been lying, hiding like a coward from Gene since the very start, refusing to show just how broken he is. Gene is missing key information about Babe, so how can anyone explain to him why Babe is nearly comatose when he’s never given him any hints about the decay inside of him?

The grief and guilt bring Babe to his knees. He doesn’t feel human - he’s a raw, oozing wound, pulsating and festering.

Julian’s funeral is held nearly two weeks after the news of his death reaches Babe. It takes a long time for his remains to be flown from Iraq to his home in Alabama. A vicious, macabre part of Babe’s mind wonders how much of him is even left to be buried.

The day of the funeral dawns gray and cold. Bill knocks on the bedroom door to wake Babe, but it’s not necessary. He’s been awake for hours, staring at a crack running perpendicular to the frame of his window. Bill sighs gently as he leans against the doorframe.

“Babe. Julian’s funeral is today.”

Babe says nothing. He’s not sure why Bill is telling him. Alabama is much too far away for them to reach in time for the service.

Bill steps into the room and sits next to Babe on the mattress, not quite touching him. He’s cutting a sharp figure in his dress uniform. It still fits him perfectly; he hasn’t lost much muscle since his time in the service. “Get up. Get a suit on. We’re going to church.”

Once upon a time, Babe had taken great comfort in his faith. Church had been like a second home, a safe haven, constant and dependable. He’d gone to Mass every Sunday as a child and had prayed every night in Iraq. Even as a kid, Babe had loved church and the idea that there was a being who could understand and love him immediately and without reservation.

But now? It’s been a long, long time since Babe last prayed.

A large, loud part of him wants to tell Bill to fuck off. It seems impossibly exhausting to pull himself out of bed. But arguing with Bill seems exhausting too and, truth be told, there’s a meek little part of him that wants to go to church to light a candle for Julian.

Julian was Catholic too and he was better at it than Babe ever was. His belief wasn’t a result of his upbringing, of strict and unyielding parents. He was an honest and true believer. Babe knows that if he’d been the one to die, Julian would have been the first person to go to church and say a prayer for Babe’s soul.

In the end Bill wins (predictably), and Babe stumbles into his bathroom for a shower. While he’s washing away the grime and stench of too many days in bed, Bill lays out Babe’s best suit for him. Babe is eternally grateful that he chooses a civilian suit instead of his dress uniform; he’s not sure he could stand wearing a uniform today.

One Babe is dry and in clean underwear, Bill comes into the bathroom to help him shave. It’s incredibly intimate, the sort of thing Babe would normally ask Gene to do. It requires more touching than either of them are comfortable with and their faces are awkwardly close. Bill’s fingers are strong and demanding as they push and pull Babe’s face to turn where it needs to go in order to catch every inch of the skin on his chin and jaw. Bill radiates discomfort, his face screwed up into a grimace, but Babe understands that helping him was never a choice. There’s no way in hell any of his friends would willingly put a razor in his hand right now.

Once Babe is clean shaven and fully dressed, he walks into the living room to find Danny, Winters, and Nixon already there.

“Dad!”

The air is pushed from Babe’s lungs with a quiet ‘oof’ as Danny collides with him. Babe lifts him up off the ground and holds onto him tightly, swaying back and forth. “Hey, buddy. I missed you.”

Danny clings to him, burying his face in his dad’s shoulder. “I wanna come home,” he whimpers.

Babe squeezes his eyes shut so hard it almost aches. He gently lowers him back to the ground, kneeling so they’re about the same height. “I know, Danny. We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

As Danny nods miserably, Babe takes the opportunity to look him over. He’s in a perfectly tailored suit that Babe is sure cost too much money, especially considering the fact that it will fit him today and most likely never again. Other than looking terribly sad, he seems healthy and well-rested and Babe knows he’s better off staying with Nix and Winters for now.

Babe hugs and kisses Danny again before standing, turning to face the others. Winters is also in his dress uniform but Nix is in a well-fitting but nondescript black suit.

“Are you guys coming to the church too?” Babe’s voice is hoarse and ragged. They both knew Julian, but barely. They had rotated home pretty shortly after Julian had joined them.

Winters puts his hand on his husband’s lower back. “Of course.” He sounds as sure and confident as he ever did in war. “You’re not alone, Babe. We’re here for you.”

Bill ends up taking them to the nearest Catholic church and it happens to be the one Babe attended with his family as a child. Maybe it was just the most convenient or maybe he thought the familiarity of it would give Babe some comfort. The building is familiar - it’s exactly how he remembers it to be down to the smell of old stone, dust, and incense. It’s musty and old which, in Babe’s opinion, is how churches should smell. But he doesn’t feel soothed by it. He doesn’t feel put off or nervous either. He’s just numb.

It’s Sunday, but Mass has already ended by the time they walk in so the church is mostly empty. There are a few figures still scattered in the pews, kneeling with their heads bent in prayer, but none of them look up as the group files in. Babe barely looks at them either. He looks at the crucifix with singular focus and wonders if he could feel any worse nailed onto a cross than he does now. It’s a blasphemous thought but he doesn’t have the strength to regret it or ask for forgiveness.

They find an empty pew on the left side of the church, right by the back. They all file in - Winters, Nix, Babe, Danny, then Bill at the end. It’s comforting to have them all there, to have the comforting pressure of Nix’s shoulder pressed against his own and Danny’s small hand held in his own. Even still, Babe finds that he comes up completely blank when he bends his head to pray.

Words don’t often fail Babe - any of his friends would attest to that. But now they’ve completely abandoned him. He can hear Dick’s whispered prayers, catches Bill crossing himself out of the corner of his eye, but he can’t remember a single prayer from his childhood to offer up or think of anything he wants to say to God. He clenches his free hand into a fist, fingernails digging into his skin as his breathing becomes unsteady and labored. Nixon starts to rub soft circles over Babe’s back like a parent might with their upset child.

“Deep breaths, kid,” he murmurs softly. “Just talk to him.”

“Who, God?”

Nixon snorts in wry amusement. “If He’s up there, He’s probably too busy to listen to you or me. It’s not like He’s listened to me much in the past. Talk to Julian.”

The lump in Babe’s throat is back, huge and choking. “I don’t think I can,” he croaks.

Nixon moves his hand to grip the back of Babe’s neck firmly but gently. “You can, Babe. You’re great at talking.” He shakes Babe a little, smiling faintly. “You loved him and you’ll miss him. Tell him that. This is your chance to say goodbye so tell him what you need to tell him. I’m right here for you.”

Babe bows his head and shuts his eyes.

Julian, he thinks. I hope that you’re not hurting anymore, wherever you are. I don’t really know what happened to you. I couldn’t ask. I don’t think I want to know that information, really. I don’t want to picture you bleeding and broken. I hope you weren’t too scared at the end. You were always so fucking brave and I could never tell if you were faking or not. I hope you were really that brave, but it’s okay if you weren’t. It’s okay if you were scared. You took too many risks, Julian, I always told you that. I told you that I’d protect you, and I couldn’t. I didn’t. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m sorry you never got to fall in love or date. I’m sorry that you never got to get married or have kids. It kills me that you barely met my kid. I’m sorry you never went to college or saw your ma one last time. I wish it had been me instead of you. It should have been me. I love you like a little brother and I didn’t tell you enough. I’m so, so sorry.

Tears flow over Babe’s cheeks and land with soft pats on his arms. A litany of ‘I’m sorry’ repeats over and over in his head, digging in and refusing to be displaced by any other thoughts. He uncurls his hand and uses it to cover his face as he weeps. Danny makes a soft, alarmed noise and crawls into his lap. Babe wraps his arms around him, sobbing against the top of his head. Nixon leans over and presses his forehead to Babe’s temple. It’s close and grounding, the first touch that hasn’t felt claustrophobic or painful in so long.

The three of them stay close for several long, quiet moments. They’re still stuck in the quicksand of their grief when Babe feels Bill go rigid on his right side. He lets out a low, angry noise, almost like the growl of a cat as he tries to stand.

“No,” he says sharply and Babe flinches in surprise at the fury in his voice. “You need to leave.”

Although the words were clearly meant as a warning, the sound of high heeled footsteps gets louder as someone walks toward them and stops. “Babe?” The voice is soft, worried and tense and so achingly familiar.

Something like dread floods through Babe, tangible and heavy and weighing down his limbs until he’s drowning. He wraps himself protectively around his child as he lifts his head.

“Ma.” He wishes he could sound cold and distant but he sounds weak and needy instead.

Nixon pulls away suddenly, his body tensing. Danny starts to struggle in his arms, trying to turn and look at the person whose arrival has changed everyone’s mood so instantaneously.

Mrs. Heffron takes another step forward. “Oh, Babe.” When Babe finally looks up at her face, warm brown eyes meet warm brown eyes and her face is etched with motherly concern.

Nearly eight years have passed since the last time Babe laid eyes on his mother. Her hair is a little less red and a little more gray than he remembers. There are new lines on her brow and in the corners of her eyes - laugh lines. Has she been smiling a lot since she pushed him away? Has she been laughing and creasing those joyful lines onto her face while he struggled?

Beyond that, she’s much the same as she’s always been. She’s his mother, the one person who should be his port in a storm no matter how big his issues might be.

Babe can feel the tension and anger of his friends. None of them hold his family in high regard and he knows that they’re furious with her for abandoning her son when he needed her most. During weak moments Babe has wondered whether their anger is really resentment, whether they hate her for foisting Babe onto them and forcing them to support and comfort him when it should have been her responsibility.

It would be understandable if Babe was angry. But with his mother standing in front of him, all Babe wants is to fall into her arms so she can hold him like she used to when he was a child, when his hurts were small and insignificant and easily fixed. It’s a difficult temptation to resist, but he does.

“You look so tired,” his mother murmurs. “And so thin.” Babe gives a trance-like nod, wanting her to fix him and make it all better. But she disappoints him once again by sighing and shaking her head. “I told you, didn’t I? I said that this was going to happen. I told you that you’d end up like this.”

It’s like ice water has been poured over Babe’s head. He wants to flee and save himself but he’s frozen, caught in her gaze like a cobra’s prey.

She shakes her head again, her concern morphing into frustration and anger. “I knew it was going to end up being too much for you, raising a child on your own. Young, unmarried, no family to help you.” Babe’s eyes flood with tears and he hears Winters suck in a sharp, angry breath. “It’s no wonder you’re having such a hard time, sweetheart. This was always going to be too much for you to handle. You’re just not strong or mature enough.”

Babe’s whole body goes utterly still - even his heart stops beating. There’s a high pitched shrieking in his head and he feels as though his insides have been shredded, like he’ll spit blood if he opens his mouth. His mother’s voice is so warm, so concerned, but Babe can’t think of anything she could have said that would be more destructive.

She’s seen him broken and has found him wanting, deemed him a failure. Weak, stupid, incompetent. Not enough.

Danny, who has been so quiet and well-behaved all day, finally breaks free from the circle of his father’s arms to face the woman saying such unkind things to his father. If he’s surprised to see the resemblance between her and Babe, he doesn’t say anything. “You don’t get to talk to him that way!”

“Danny,” Nix says sharply. “Let the adults handle this.”

“No!” Danny stomps his foot and Babe grabs his arm gently to keep him from lunging. “You’re mean,” he spits at the woman, pure venom in his voice.

Mrs. Heffron’s eyes flicker from her son’s exhausted face to the child struggling against his grip. “Is this…?”

Babe is suddenly very sure of the fact that he doesn’t want Danny and his mother to interact at all. If she wanted to know Danny then she should have been there from the beginning, not eight years later.

“Bill, take Danny outside,” he says firmly, as close to an order as he’s ever given.

Bill looks like he’s seriously contemplating forcing Mrs. Heffron to leave through violent means. His face is red and his strong jaw is clenched hard, making the muscles jut out in stark relief. But he nods, holding his hand out to Danny.

“No, I want to stay with my dad!” He’s edging closer and closer to a meltdown. Babe has gotten pretty comfortable with tantrums but he shamefully realizes that he doesn’t want his mother to see it. He doesn’t want her to think he’s a bad father, that he can’t control his kid.

“Tough,” Bill says sternly, picking Danny up. He shoulders past Mrs. Heffron as Danny starts to shriek angrily, putting up a fight with what tools he has at his disposal.

The others watch them leave, Babe with tears in his eyes. Once the heavy doors close behind them, Mrs. Heffron clears her throat.

“Babe, don’t you see how all of this is harming your son?” She looks at her own child beseechingly. “This isn’t fair to him.” She reaches out to touch his cheek, the frigid tips of her fingers brushing against his skin before he recoils.

In a heartbeat Nixon surges to his feet, his face distorted with rage. “Listen here, you fucking harpy,” he snarls, more furious than Babe has ever seen him. “Babe does have a family. He has me and my husband and Bill and a thousand other people who would die for him and his kid. We love him, actually love him, not just when it’s simple or convenient. You don’t deserve to love him, do you hear me? Not Babe or his son.”

Babe doesn’t blink, doesn’t think he’s blinked in minutes, but somehow he doesn’t notice Dick moving to stand next to Mrs. Heffron. He must have gone the long way around or maybe he climbed over the pew to get to her. Strong and ferocious, he puts his body between Babe and his mother, forcing her to take several steps back. “You need to leave, Mrs. Heffron,” he orders coldly.

Babe’s mother glances between all of them - her broken son, his protectors. “I only ever wanted what was best for you, Babe,” she says firmly though there’s a waver in her voice. “You always know where to find me.”

“Get out,” Nix snarls.

And then she’s gone, leaving only devastation and a trace of her perfume in her wake.

---

The trip back to Babe’s apartment is silent and tense. The others are still stiff with rage but all Babe feels is burning, rotten shame. Shame about the person his mother is, that she deemed him a failure, that he believes her.

When they get back to the apartment, Babe drags himself to his room. He strips out of his suit and pulls his pajamas on, barely thinking as he stumbles toward his bed. The room is quiet and cool as he stares at his ceiling but he isn’t alone for long.

A small form crawls onto the bed and tucks in beside him. Babe automatically wraps an arm around his kid, pulling him in close. He looks down at the soft ginger crown of his beloved head.

“Do you know how much I love you?” He keeps his voice soft, not wanting to disturb the stillness surrounding them.

Danny looks up at him, his blue eyes wide and guileless. “Yeah,” he says without hesitation. Then he buries his face back in against Babe’s ribs.

Eventually Babe drifts off into a fitful doze and when he next wakes there’s a sitcom playing on his laptop and tepid hot chocolate on his bedside table. Danny isn’t pressed against him anymore and he feels cold and lonely.

Through the door he can hear the sounds of someone moving around in his kitchen, but he has no concept of who it might be. He slowly pulls himself into a seated position and considers calling out but before he can the door is gently pushed open.

Gene peeks his head in before he comes into the room with a glass of water in his hand. A tiny, worn-out smile flickers across his face when he sees Babe sitting up.

“Well hey there.” He walks over and sets the water on Babe’s nightstand, ice cubes gently tinkling against the glass. “I brought some water in case you got thirsty.” He bends and preses a long, firm kiss against Babe’s forehead.

Touch-starved and raw, Babe leans into the kiss for a few brief moments before pulling away. “Where’s Danny?”

“Nix and Winters took him back to their place last night after you fell asleep.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Don’t got anywhere else I want to be.” Gene looks tired but his voice is kind as he sits down on the edge of the bed near Babe’s knees. “I like taking care of you. It’s my job.”

The words lance through Babe like a spear. “Your job,” Babe repeats numbly. “Right.”

“What’s wrong?” Gene looks puzzled by his reaction, his brows drawing together.

“It’s not your job.” There’s a buzzing rising in Babe’s ears and his body flushes hot with humiliation. “I’m not another sick fucking kid for you to fix, Gene.”

Gene’s eyes go wide. “That’s not…”

Humiliation and anger war within him and he clenches his jaw. “I’m not some challenge, some puzzle for you to solve to make you feel all good and holy.”

A tinny laugh track erupts from the still-playing sitcom and Babe slams his laptop shut, cutting the sound off abruptly. It almost feels good to be angry, like a relief. He’s been so numb and so sad that to actually feel something as visceral as anger is something worth savoring.

But when he looks at Gene’s face, the anger sours in his gut. He looks hurt and furious and part of Babe wants to grovel and apologize until the conversation is ended and put behind them. At the same time, he wants to keep going, wants to push until Gene sees how terrible he really is.

“Believe it or not,” Gene says with forced calm, “I’m here because I love you and I love Danny. This might be a shock to you, but I know that you’re not perfect. It doesn’t mean I’m trying to fix you.”

“Knowing it and living it are two very different things.”

Gene huffs. “I’m not here because I want to magically make everything better or because I think you’re broken. I’m here with you because I want you, not because it’s easy.”

Babe turns his head and watches a bead of condensation slip down the side of the water glass. He stays silent even though he knows Gene is waiting for him to talk.

With a sigh, Gene puts his hand over Babe’s. “Bill’s on his way over. I have to get to work, but I’ll be back later, okay?”

Babe nods to show he’s heard but he still doesn’t look over. He listens to Gene’s footsteps cross the small room toward the door, hears it open and shut, and then Babe is alone.

---

It doesn’t take long for Bill to arrive. Babe hears the front door open, then the nasal tones of Bill’s voice and Gene’s soft response. Not wanting to hear even a hint of what they’re discussing, Babe presses his palms over his ears and squeezes his eyes shut as he lays back against his pillows. It isn’t until Bill’s shadow falls over his face that he peeks his eyes open again.

Bill looks sad and concerned but mostly disappointed. Some of the residual anger pulses through Babe and he wants to order Bill to leave, but if there’s one thing he’s sure of it’s Bill Guarnere’s stubbornness. You can’t force him to do anything he doesn't want to; he’ll only dig his heels in until he’s utterly unmoveable.

“Babe,” he says sternly in a way that reminds Babe very strongly of the nuns at his elementary school. Babe tries to roll away from him but Bill grabs his shoulder to keep him still. “Why the hell are you picking a fight with Doc?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Tough shit. Damn it Babe, Gene loves you - though God knows why when you’re being such an ornery son of a bitch. He loves Danny. You love him back, so why the hell are you treating him like shit?”

Babe rolls over onto his back, crossing his arms over his eyes. “I don’t need him to fix me, Bill.”

“You know, for a smart guy you’re real fuckin’ stupid sometimes.” Bill shoves him over and sits in the spot he creates for himself. “When I lost my leg, I tried to get Frannie to divorce me.”

That gets Babe’s attention and he looks over with wide eyes. “What?” It doesn’t make any sense. Bill and Frannie’s love is constant and dependable and Babe’s never doubted it for a second.

“When we got married, I was healthy and whole and I came back different. It wasn’t what she signed up for.”

The words echo thoughts that Babe has had about himself and Gene a thousand times and he flushes.

“So when I was in the hospital, I tried to convince her to leave me. I tried to explain it first but she wouldn’t listen, so then I got mean. If she wasn’t smart enough to know when to call it quits then I was going to convince her, you know? It lasted about two days before she put the fear of God in me. She said ‘I’m not here because I feel sorry or because you’re nice to me, I’m here because I love you. When the people we love are hurting, it’s our duty to help them - not because we have to, but because that’s what love makes us do. Now shut up and let me give you the damn sponge bath.’”

Babe laughs wetly. “Gross.”

Bill smiles and runs a hand over Babe’s greasy hair. “Let Gene help you, Babe. He’s a doctor, so helping people is in his soul. He’s not trying to treat you like a kid, he’s just trying to do what he does best.” Silence descends, broken only by Babe’s sniffles. Then Bill says, “I made you an appointment with your therapist for tomorrow. She said it’s been a while since you went.”

“I don’t feel like going.”

“That’s too fuckin’ bad,” Bill says sharply. “You got a kid you have to think about, Babe. He’s lucky enough to have a shit ton of grown ups who love him and who love you so he’s got people to watch him right now, but he needs his dad. And right now you can’t take care of him so you gotta put in the work to get better so you can.”

It’s painful to hear, like all of Babe’s worst fears have been confirmed. “So my ma was right.” His voice is stretched taut as a bow, so close to cracking and breaking.

“No. Your ma is a fuckin’ piece of work, is what she is. You’re an amazing dad, you got that? But right now? Right now you’re grieving and you need help getting back to the place where you can be his amazing dad and your therapist is gonna help you get there.” Bill puts his hand on the side of Babe’s neck. “But first I’m gonna make you some real food and you’re gonna get some sleep.”

Bill crosses the room to the door, then turns to look at Babe over his shoulder. “We’re gonna fix this, Babe. I swear it.”

—

By the next morning, Bill has arranged a full schedule for Babe with ruthless efficiency. It feels like he’s a kid at school again - his days will be full of appointments and lessons and exercise. It’s all very predictable and boring, but Babe can admit that those are probably good things for a combat veteran struggling with PTSD.

He’s grateful for Bill’s intervention, but it’s hard to accept that the reason Bill pushed so hard is because he’s afraid that Babe might somehow harm himself. It’s even harder to accept that he might be right.

Babe goes to his therapist the next day, mostly to make Bill happy. He’d forgotten how much he likes his therapist. Asha is an older black woman with a low, soothing voice and a mellow temperament. Her office is gently lit and always smells like clean laundry and lemon candles, but never overpowering. She has three couches and he always chooses the same one, a dark navy blue sofa that is pushed against the wall and has a clear view of the door and windows. She’s gentle and understanding when he needs to be handled with kid gloves, but firm and unyielding when he gets stubborn and digs his heels in.

She doesn’t tiptoe around. After they make the customary small talk she asks him, “If you could have anything in the world right now, what would you want? What would make everything better?”

It’s a hard question, one Babe usually shies away from thinking about. There are so many things he would change, things beyond his control. He wants Julian to be alive. He wants his family to love him. He wants his friends not to worry about him. He wants to go back to being happy with Gene, back before their argument.

But there’s one thing he wants more than anything, one thing that brings tears to his eyes. He has to clear his throat before he can speak. “I want my son back.”

Asha nods, her eyes soft. “I thought that might be your answer.”

There’s nothing legally keeping his son from him - no one came and took Danny away, no one told him he couldn’t have his kid. It’s at Babe’s own request that Danny has been spending his nights with either Dick and Nix.

It’s an issue of trust - not that the others don’t trust him, but that he doesn’t trust himself. He can’t be sure that Danny would be safe with him right now, that he wouldn’t lapse into another dissociative episode and neglect or traumatize his kid in the process. Babe won’t ever risk his son, no matter how badly he wants them to go back to being the little family they were a few weeks ago.

“What would it take to make that happen?” Asha crosses her ankles as she watches him.

Babe tilts his head back to look at the ceiling in a bid to avoid making eye contact as a few tears leak down toward his temples. “I need help.”

It’s a hard thing for Babe to admit; it always has been. It’s easier to ask for help with Danny - he’ll do anything, no matter how uncomfortable or humiliating, to make sure that Danny has what he needs. But asking for assistance for himself is still difficult. He can’t help but feel that as a man, as a combat veteran, as a father, he should be able to solve his own problems. It’s just one additional way his parents fucked him over, he guesses.

Asha smiles softly at him. “The good news is that you’re already getting help.” She waves jauntily. “I’m help.”

Babe laughs wryly. “I need different help.”

“Okay. Elaborate on that. What kind of help do you need?”

“I guess… I’m afraid that if I’m the only one taking care of him, I’ll hurt him somehow. I don’t want to be alone with him.”

Asha, as always, gently guides him to where he needs to be. “So how can someone help you with that? Do you think you’d want someone to be there with you?”

Babe nods silently.

“Good! So can you ask someone to stay with you?”

Babe thinks of his tiny apartment, of the dishes he can’t bring himself to do, of the donated food slowly molding in his fridge when Bill or Gene aren’t there to help him. He thinks about the laundry waiting unwashed in his hamper and the vacuum sitting lonely and unused in his closet. He tries to imagine someone coming into that space and seeing the darkness of his life on display. He knows Bill or Gene or any of his friends would stay with him if he asked, that they’d be genuinely happy to, but he can’t imagine actually making them. Where would they even stay? On his shitty couch? In Danny’s tiny twin bed?

He shakes his head.

“Okay,” she says easily, accepting his answer without argument. “What about asking if you and Danny can stay with someone else?”

“I…” Babe considers this option, blinking. He knows that Nix and Winters have a large, beautiful brownstone that has at least four bedrooms. He and Danny could stay there and be completely out of their way. He also knows with complete confidence that if he asked they would agree in a heartbeat.

But he also knows that there’s someone else he needs to ask for help first, someone who wants to see him back to normal than he does himself. “Yeah. I can do that.”

When Babe’s appointment is done, he walks back to the lobby where Bill is waiting for him. He’s intently reading a magazine whose headline screams ‘BUILD YOUR DREAM SHE-SHED’ in baby pink letters. Babe puts his hands in his pockets and clears his throat, fighting down a laugh as Bill startles. He looks up at Babe then back down to the magazine in his hands and quickly throws it onto the nearest table as though it has transformed into a venomous snake.

“I wasn’t reading it or nothing,” he says defensively, much too quickly. “I just got bored, alright?”

Even though he feels as emotionally wrung dry as an old hand towel, he can’t help but grin. “Yeah, alright. Whatever you say, Bill.”

With the loud groan of an elderly man, Bill stands. “I hate these fuckin’ chairs,” he grumbles.

He’d known better than most. After all, he’d driven Babe to the appointment and sat in one for a full hour so he could drive him home again. It’s nothing that Babe ever asked him to do, but he knows better than to tell Bill not to bother.

The pair walks to Bill’s Camry in silence. It isn’t until Bill starts up the engine that he looks over at Babe cautiously. The idea of therapy has always made him nervous. “So how did it go?”

“Went okay,” Babe replies quietly as Bill backs out of the parking spot. “She… we talked about how I need to get better about askin’ for help.”

“She knows her shit.”

“Yeah, she does.” They lapse into silence.

Bill’s fingers tap out a rhythm of impatience against the steering wheel. “So you talked about asking for help. That mean you need to ask me for something?”

Babe’s palms feel clammy and damp so he wipes them on his thighs. “I don’t want to ask you for anything else. You’ve… I can ask someone else.”

“Shut up,” Bill bites, eyes narrowed in offense. “What do you need?”

“Bill, I mean it.”

“Me too.”

Babe sighs. “You can say no. I won’t get upset or hold it against you or nothing. I’ll understand completely if…”

Bill huffs in irritation. “Just ask the fuckin’ question. Jesus Christ.”

“Can I move in with you?” Babe blurts, too loud in the small car. The volume of his voice makes Bill wince and something inside Babe withers. He interrupts just as Bill opens his mouth to reply. “Me and Danny, I mean. It’d just be for a little while, just a few weeks I think, maybe.”

A few seconds somehow manages to feel like an hour as Babe holds his breath until Bill says, “Of course, you moron. Let’s go get some clothes and shit from your place. We’ll call Frannie on the way.”

—

The Guarnere house has two guest bedrooms. There’s one on the second floor next to the master and it’s been Danny’s room since he was three. Bill and Fran had insisted, saying they wanted Danny to have his own space if and when they needed to babysit overnight. It doesn’t happen often, but Babe has to admit that it’s been nice to know it’s there should they ever need it.

The second guest bedroom is located on the third floor along with a bathroom; it was originally meant to be the master suite, but Fran and Bill moved to the second floor after he lost his leg when it got too hard for him to climb two flights of stairs. It’s the room Babe has always stayed in when he needs to, usually on Sunday evenings after he and Bill have indulged in too many beers or glasses of scotch.

It’s not a big room but the windows let in a lot of light and it makes the space feel roomier. The mattress on the queen sized bed is new and comfortable and Fran makes up the bed with a quilt that her grandmother made back during WWII. Babe can’t help but be a little touched that she’s letting him use something so valuable and sentimental.

Babe and Danny spend the evening with the Guarneres but when it’s time for Danny to go to bed they let Babe take over. By the time Babe gets ready for bed, Danny has been bathed, read to, and tucked in for hours. Despite this, when Babe comes back into the bedroom after brushing his teeth and washing his face, Danny is standing in the doorway to the bedroom looking uncertain. His bare toes peek out from the hems of his Spider-Man pajama bottoms, his fingers curling around the bottom of the matching top.

“Hey bud,” Babe says softly. “You should be sleeping.”

“Can’t sleep,” Danny says quietly, holding out his arms in a silent request to be picked up. It’s happening less and less as Danny grows and Babe knows that soon he won’t be able to lift his kid at all. And even though Babe is bone-tired and it’s well past both of their bedtimes, he can’t stop himself from hoisting his son off the ground and into his arms.

Danny clings to him with surprising strength and Babe presses his nose into Danny’s soft strawberry blonde hair, breathing in the unique lavender smell of a soft, clean kid. His kid. He sways them back and forth, his eyes closed tight.

It’s impossible not to notice the way Danny’s breath hitches or the warm, growing wet spot on Babe’s shoulder where his cheek rests and Babe feels his failure so keenly he thinks he might choke on it.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry. I love you so much, sweet boy. More than anything else in the whole world.”

Babe paces around the room, holding Danny close as he cries himself out. Finally Danny’s grip on him starts to get weaker, his body going limp as he drifts toward sleep. “Okay,” Babe whispers, shifting Danny’s weight in his arms to lay him back down on the mattress. But as soon as he pulls Danny away from his chest he wakes again, whimpering and curling his fingers into the fabric of Babe’s shirt. It’s pure muscle memory to start swaying again, quietly shushing him until he’s still.

It’s an echo from the very first night Babe brought Danny home from the hospital after his birth. Although he was healthy and perfect in every way, Danny had been so incredibly small, as frail as a baby bird, and Babe had been terrified of him. There was nothing to suggest that he, 16 and hardly able to care for himself, could manage to raise this child and that uncertainty was all he could think about.

When Danny began to emit the rough wail of an angry newborn, dread had curled into his stomach. Nothing quieted him - not a diaper change, a warm bottle, nor swaddling. It wasn’t until Babe held Danny as he rocked back and forth from exhaustion that he finally settled.

Danny isn’t that frightening, tiny newborn anymore. The fragility of infancy has transformed into the sturdiness of childhood as those hazy days of brand new life fade.

It hits Babe, suddenly and forcefully, that he doesn’t have too many more nights of this. Someday soon Danny will be grown and won’t need his dad to rock him to sleep. Babe doesn’t want to waste a single second of holding his kid in his arms. But he’s so tired.

Ever so gently, Babe moves to the bed and sits gingerly on the mattress. He leans back slowly until he’s propped up against the soft pillows with Danny curled against his chest. Somehow he manages to get comfortable without ever waking him, which is a miracle that all other parents could appreciate. His hand rubs lazy circles over Danny’s back until the warmth and comfort slowly lulls him to sleep.

—-----

Babe knows with full certainty that he owes Gene a massive apology. They’ve texted back and forth since the day of their argument, but they haven’t spoken on the phone and Babe doesn’t want to apologize via text. Still, he knows he can’t pretend like they never argued. Guilt gnaws at him and makes him feel even worse than he did in the first place, which seems impossible. After a few days of over-thinking, Babe sits on his bed while Danny is at school and dials Eugene’s number.

“Hello?” Gene’s voice is as soft and sweet as it always is, but there’s a wariness there like he’s nervous about what he’ll hear on the other end of the line. Babe’s guilt intensifies.

He can hear a low voice talking in the background, too clear to be the television, and his heart painfully skips a beat. It isn’t as though Gene can’t spend time with friends without Babe around or that he needs to let Babe know when he’s having people over, but normally it’s something that he would have shared, that Babe would have been invited to. The feeling of being left out stings although Babe’s sure Gene’s intention was never to hurt him.

“Hey,” he says quietly, staring down at a hole in the knee of his jeans. “Is now a bad time?”

There’s an extended pause during which the voices get softer and a door gently closes; presumably Gene went into a different room for some privacy. “No, it’s okay. Renee and I both had the day off and she broke up with her boyfriend, so we’re having a movie day.”

“I can call back later.”

“It’s fine,” Gene says and Babe can hear the faint smile in his voice. “I want to talk to you. How are you feeling?”

“I…” He’s not sure how to answer, so he decides to go with honesty. “I feel okay but I don’t trust it.”

Gene laughs gently. “I know exactly what you mean. It’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

“Yeah,” Babe breathes. “Just like that. But I had my first therapy appointment.”

“You said. How did it go?”

“It went good. Danny and I have been doing good at Bill’s house, too.”

“That’s real good, Edward. I’m proud of you.” He sounds so genuine and sweet.

“I should have called,” Babe blurts in a rush. “I’m so sorry. I was so fuckin’ mean to you.”

Eugene makes a soft noise of agreement. “I’m not going to argue that. But I forgive you. I know that grief can make people do and say things they’re sorry for later.”

“I am sorry,” Babe says desperately. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know, honey. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Babe bites out. “You should be mad at me.”

“But I’m not.” He says it like it’s the easiest, simplest thing in the world. “I know that part of you wants me to be mad because you feel like you deserve it, but I am not mad at you, Edward.”

Babe takes a deep breath. “There’s some shit I need to tell you, Gene.”

“Okay.” The quiet confidence in his voice has been shaken a little. “Are… are you breaking up with me?”

The bottom drops out of Babe’s stomach. “No! Jesus, no, not at all. I love you.”

There’s a low gust of air like Gene’s letting out a breath he’s been holding. “Okay. Shit, gimme a minute.” He sounds shaken.

“I’m sorry,” Babe laments. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I swear.”

“It’s okay.” Another deep breath. “If you’re not breaking up with me, then what did you want to talk about?

“About my life before you and I met. About why I’ve been havin’ a hard time.”

The background noise on Gene’s end of the call gets a little louder, like someone opened the door of the room he sequestered himself in. “I think that’s a conversation I’d like to have in person,” he admits. “But I don’t think Renee is going anywhere anytime soon. She’s pretty heartbroken.”

“That’s okay. A little more time would give me a few more therapy sessions which isn’t a horrible idea.”

“That’s true.” Babe hears someone talking in rapid French. “I gotta go, Babe. Renee’s been drinking and I’m afraid she’ll start breaking things if I don’t pay attention to her.”

Babe laughs. “Yeah, of course. Go have fun, okay?”

“I’ll talk to you soon, alright? I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Then he hangs up.

—----

As with any journey, there are steps forward and setbacks in turn.

Babe tries to return to his construction job a month after Julian dies. It takes less than half a shift for the sounds of nail guns and dropping lumber to send Babe tumbling into the nearest trailer, shaking like a leaf. He isn’t surprised when Bull Randleman asks to talk to him at the end of the day.

Bull isn’t unkind - Babe hasn’t witnessed him being unkind even once in all the years they’ve known each other - but he does suggest that construction might not be the best job for Babe at this point in his life. It still stings but Babe knows he’s right.

To keep Babe occupied and out of trouble, Nixon offers him extra work at the bar. He becomes their first full-time employee - outside of Nix and Dick themselves - and they force him to accept an annoyingly good benefits package in return.

Not that Babe’s complaining. He’s always loved working at the bar and he really enjoys being there full time. Nix and Winters hover a little at first, clearly still worried about him, but it never feels overbearing. It feels like love.

At first Babe worries about childcare - while they liked having Danny there every once and a while, he isn’t sure how they’ll feel about him coming to the bar 5 days a week. It turns out to be a non-issue: they demand that Danny come to every single one of his shifts. They say that they got used to having him around all the time and they miss him.

Part of why he loves working at the bar is because he’s good at it. The more time he spends there, the more comfortable and confident he becomes. That long counter turns into his domain, the bar’s regulars become his regulars, and the more he’s there, the easier it gets to remember how to make all the different specialty drinks. He flourishes in the dim overhead lights and under the warm, loving guidance of his COs.

After a week of working full time, Nix and Winters summon Babe to their office. A ball of dread forms in the pit of his stomach. Deep down he knows that he doesn’t really need to be worried - it isn’t like he’s being called to the principal’s office or being reprimanded at another job. Dick and Nix love him, they consider him family, but it’s a struggle to remember that fact as he walks into their office.

Nixon is sitting behind his big desk looking intimidating and professional despite the fact that Babe doesn’t think he’s ever done any real work at that desk before. He looks cool and confident and every inch the owner of the establishment.

Winters, meanwhile, is sitting on the floor with Danny, patiently helping him assemble a massive jigsaw puzzle. Babe watches them fondly, thinking of how tough Dick seemed while they were at war.

After a minute, Babe turns to look at Nix. “You wanted to see me, boss?”

Nix shudders. “Ugh, don’t call me boss. I much prefer ‘sir’, don’t I, Dick?” He winks at his husband.

“I don’t think I needed to know that.” Babe is mostly joking but when he sees the way Winters’ face blushes, he suddenly realizes that he truly didn’t need to know. “Oh my god. I’m being traumatized again.”

“Alright, alright.” Nixon raises his hands in good natured surrender. “I’ll stop flirting. For now.” He moves and comes to stand right in front of Babe, leaning against the edge of his desk. “I want to promote you.”

Babe blinks, taken aback. “Promote me? You just promoted me two weeks ago.”

“That didn’t count - I didn’t pay you anything extra. I want you to be the general manager of the bar. It comes with a pretty hefty raise so that’ll be fun for you. Not that you ever do anything exciting with your money.”

Babe wants to be offended by that, but he feels rather like he’s taken an unexpected step off a curb or leaned back too far in a chair. “I’m not qualified.”

“If you think Lew cares about things like qualifications, then you haven’t been paying attention,” Dick points out.

“You’re my most experienced employee,” Nix says defensively.

“Yeah, because you hire shitty, unqualified people who leave after three friggin’ months.”

“See!” Nixon beams at him. “You’re already bitching at me like a manager. I’m so proud.”

Babe shakes his head in disbelief. The offer is so, so tempting. It’s the chance to spend every day at the bar with some of his favorite people in the world and make even more money doing it. He could finally prove to himself that he’s a competent, capable adult who can handle professional responsibilities.

But he’s sure that, as much as he wants it, he’d be terrible at it. Under his lack of experience, there’s no way the bar could function and he’d never be able to live with himself if his own ineptitude shut the bar down. “Nix, I’m not kidding. I can’t do this. I just had a fucking mental breakdown.”

Danny looks at him with a frown. “But you’re better now.”

“Kind of,” Babe says with a sigh. “But not all the way. It's complicated, bud.”

The humor has left Nix’s face. “You’re working damn hard to move past it. I know what you’re capable of, Babe. You can do this.”

“You’d be doing us a favor.” Winters, ever the strategist, tries a different angle. “Lew has been complaining for years that I work too much. If I knew that you were here to take care of the place, I could actually take a few days off. Maybe we could even go on vacation.”

Babe shuffles his feet uncomfortably. “I don’t want any charity.”

“It’s not charity. We need the help, kid.”

“So hire someone with experience.”

Nix scoffs. “I’m not hiring some stranger to run my business when I could keep it in the family instead.”

“But I’m not -”

“Don’t,” Nix spits, genuine anger now burning in his eyes. “Have you or have you not been training your kid to call me Grandpa since he was three years old?”

“As a joke!”

“Well I’m not joking. You are the closest thing Dick and I have to a kid. You and Danny are my family.”

His furious expression only melts away when Danny comes and hugs him tightly. Nix sighs and hugs him back, cradling his head.

“Lewis,” Winters says softly from off to the side, but Babe can’t take his eyes away from Nixon.

“No. I know we’re being gentle with you right now Babe, but you don’t get to push me away. So take the fucking job and the raise and the benefits. Okay?”

Babe flushes, properly shamed. He’s seen Nix lose his cool before but they had been at war, stretched so thin that the only option left was to snap. “I’m sorry, Nix. I didn’t mean…”

Nixon cuts him off by reaching out and grabbing his arm. “I love you, kid. I’m tired of watching you hurt yourself because you think you deserve it.”

Babe bows his head and Winters pats his back. “It’s going to be okay, Babe. You’ll be alright.” When he gets no response, he shakes Babe’s shoulder. “Look at me.”

It’s hard to argue with that tone of voice, the one Babe has heard Dick use to comfort dying men: firm and gentle and soft. He lifts his eyes to meet Winters’ baby blues.

“Have I ever lied to you before?”

“No, sir,” Babe admits.

“Alright then. You’re working so hard and it’s going to end up just fine. Let Lew and I help you get there.”

After a moment or two, Babe nods. “Okay. I’ll take the job.”

—-----

As much as Babe hates feeling like a burden, hates that his friends feel like they have to take care of him all the time, he’s pathetically grateful for their hovering and fussing and fretting. With their help, Babe starts to feel like himself again. Everyone he knows has a hand in helping him. They don’t take turns babysitting him like they did in the beginning, but all of the people he loves share the credit for his recovery.

A month ago it didn’t seem possible, but Babe can finally play with Danny, spend time with his friends, and live his life without being consumed by the worry that his brain is going to malfunction in some terrible way and send his life sputtering into a flaming tailspin. He starts to smile again, laugh again, and sometimes he even manages it without being suffocated by guilt.

At Bill and Fran’s insistence, Babe breaks the lease for his shitty little apartment. It’s bittersweet; sure, the pipes made a racket and it was hardly big enough for even Babe’s meager furniture, but it was his and Danny’s home. Still, it’s more than worth it to get to spend more time with the Guarneres.

One thing hasn’t gone back to normal: he and Gene have barely been speaking. It’s not intentional, but between his new full time job and Gene’s always hectic balance of work and personal life, they don’t have enough time to dedicate to the Important Conversation they need to have. They have some sort of unspoken agreement that the next time they see each other in person will be for that Conversation and until they both have time for it, they communicate through text and phone calls only.

Babe misses Eugene Roe’s touch like he’d miss a limb - sorry Bill - and the longing never abates or eases. Even though he tries to be inconspicuous in his pining, he’s never been a subtle man where his thoughts and feelings are concerned.

Bill ambushes him one evening after family dinner. He, Babe, Danny and Fran are still sitting in the dining room, the men watching while Fran tries to teach Danny how to count cards.

“You’re thinking about Roe again, I can tell,” Bill declares, apropos of nothing. “Can’t get nothing past old Guarnere.” He taps the cheekbone beneath his right eye.

Babe scowls at him from across the card table. “So what?”

“Yeah,” Danny chirps. “So what? Daddy’s always thinking about Gene.”

Bill lets out a braying laugh as Babe covers his face with his hands. “Thank you, Danny Boy. See, even the kid notices it.”

“Was I not supposed to say it?” Danny asks Fran in a stage whisper.

Fran sighs and leans over to slap Bill upside the head.

“What?” Bill whines at his wife, upset that she’s apparently decided to side with Babe. He rubs the back of his head.

“Don’t be mean to Babe. I think it’s sweet.”

“All I’m saying is that he should call the man and end this weird little impasse they’ve got going.”

Frannie sets her cards down. “What’s stopping you from calling him?”

“Nothin’, that’s what,” Bill says sternly.

Babe glares at him. “Who says he’s even ready to talk about it?”

“I say it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re a fuckin’ moron. How you got Frannie to marry you is beyond me.”

Fran preens. “I am outta your league, honey.” Bill grumbles.

Babe leans over and glances at Danny’s cards over his shoulder, then settles back into his chair with a sigh. “I know I should call him. I’m just worried. What if he changes his mind about us?”

Before he can argue, Fran leans over and pats his knee. “Just call him, Babe. Hear what he has to say. Then at least you’ll know.”

It’s irritating, Babe thinks as Fran collects her winnings, how she’s always right.

—

It takes Babe another two hours to summon up the courage to call Eugene. His palms sweat as he stands in front of his bedroom window, looking out over the backyard. You fought in a war, he tells himself. You can be brave. The light in his room is starting to fade into warm yellows and oranges and he’ll soon be plunged into darkness if he doesn’t turn a light on. Gene has already been out of work for hours, so it only takes three or four rings for the call to be picked up.

“Edward,” Eugene breathes, sounding tired but glad. “Hi.”

A broad smile blooms across Babe’s face. “Hey, Gene. How are you?”

“Oh, I’m alright. It’s been a while since we talked. I miss you.”

“Yeah, I miss you too. Can… Do you have any time this week to see each other? I think we need to have that conversation.”

“Hold on, let me check.” There's a minute or two of silence. "Can Bill and Fran watch Danny tomorrow? I should be home by 6. You could come over then."

“Yeah, that'll be fine.” A nervous mixture of relief and anxiety sweeps through him, leaving his hands shaking. “Thanks, Gene.”

“See you tonight, Edward.”

—

At 6:00 on the dot, Babe loiters on the front steps of Gene’s apartment building. He’s weighed down by several heavy bags from Gene’s favorite Chinese restaurant in Philadelphia, nevermind the fact that it was completely out of the way. Babe’s stomach is roiling with nerves but the food smells good enough to remind him of how hungry he is.

Gene’s car pulls up to the curb a few minutes late and Babe tries to keep himself from wiggling with excitement like some kind of overgrown Golden Retriever. It’s the first time in weeks that Babe has seen Gene’s face and his heart races as he walks up. Gene has dark circles under his eyes and he looks exhausted but he is still so, so beautiful. Babe steps forward to meet him and is blessed with a broad smile.

It’s as natural as breathing to step in and kiss him, one hand coming up to tangle in his dark hair. Gene hums in contentment and sweetly presses into the kiss.

When they pull away, he grins. “Hey, Edward.”

“Hey, Gene,” Babe replies with a blush. He awkwardly lifts the bags he’s carrying. “I brought food. I know that you don’t always remember to eat when you’re working. You look dead on your feet. Are you tired? We can do this some other time if you want to, I don’t mind. You can keep the food, obviously.” The rambling is embarrassing but he can’t seem to stop.

Gene shakes his head, the corner of his mouth lifting. “No, no, this is fine. Come on up.” They do an inelegant dance on the small porch, moving around one another so Gene can unlock the door.

They walk up to the second floor in silence and it makes Babe’s skin itch. Gene has always been a quiet guy and it usually doesn’t bother him, but now that he’s so anxious it’s hard to bear. He’s so used to filling silences with inane chatter but he figures that Gene is going to get real sick of his voice by the end of this conversation so he should save the talking for the important stuff.

Gene unlocks his apartment door and enters, holding it open for Babe to step in behind him. His apartment is much nicer than Babe’s was, all clean white walls and high ceilings and natural light. It feels spacious and airy as opposed to cramped and stuffy. It’s just a studio, but Gene’s modern furniture and lack of clutter make it feel bigger than it is. Even though it’s not stuffed full of personal objects or decoration, the place is still warm and homey, welcoming in the same way that Bill and Fran’s is even though they couldn’t be more different.

Once Babe takes his shoes off, he lifts the bags of take out. “Where do you want me to put the food?”

Gene leaves his own shoes beside the front door and hangs up his coat in the hall closet. “Kitchen counter is fine. I’ll get some plates.”

“I got it. You get comfortable.” Babe goes into the kitchen and unloads all of the food like a buffet on the dark granite countertops. He gets out the plates and silverware as quietly as he can, trying to let Gene decompress after a long day at work.

After a few minutes, Gene joins him in the kitchen and starts to fill his plate with food. Normally Babe would pile his own plate high and eat every bite happily but he’s not positive that his stomach won’t revolt with nerves, so he serves himself modestly instead.

They move together to the couch in the living room, making themselves comfortable. Gene eats quietly but Babe just pushes his food around on his plate.

“You’re not hungry?” Babe glances up to see Gene’s concerned face.

“I was,” he admits with a crooked smile. “But I guess my nerves got the best of me.”

Gene reaches over to touch his arm. “I’d say that you don’t have to be nervous but I don’t think you’d believe me.”

Babe laughs weakly. “Probably not. I just…” Feeling uncharacteristically shy, Babe sets his plate on the coffee table and rubs his forehead anxiously. “I’ve never really talked about this shit before. Not all of it at once, anyway. The only people who know everything are Bill and my therapist.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Gene says, and it sounds like he really means it. There’s no hint of reproach or hurt, just understanding.

“No, I do. I owe you the truth.”

“You don’t owe me or anyone a damn thing. You and I might be together but your life is still private if you want it to be. You decide what to tell or not tell.”

It’s a perfect thing to say - exactly what Babe needs to hear. He leans forward across Gene’s plate to kiss him gently. “I really love you.”

Gene smiles but he looks a little sad. “You shouldn’t love me because I treat you with basic respect.” He strokes the side of Babe's face with his knuckles.

“No, I just love you because you’re you.” They kiss again, chaste and sweet. But when they pull back, Babe knows once and for all that he has to lay all his cards out on the table. “Maybe I don’t owe you anything, but I want you to know. I’ve been kicking myself because all this time it felt like I was lying to you and roping you into a situation that you didn’t have all the intel about.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Gene says in a soft, firm voice as he sets his own plate aside.

“I know.”

“But I want to know, if you’ll tell me."

When Babe looks up, he meets Gene’s intent and compassionate gaze. He remembers the first time he had all of his attention focused on him, how he felt pinned and laid bare and luckier than any other man alive. Now it mostly feels weighty and nerve wracking.

Babe tries to figure out where he should start, what part might hurt the least. None of it feels safe or comfortable though, so he decides to just start at the beginning.

“When I was 16, I dated this girl, Sara. You remember Liebgott? Great hair, bad attitude?”

Gene laughs and nods. "I remember."

“Sara’s his cousin. He and I went to school together and she was at his house one time when we were hanging out and she and I just kind of hit it off. My parents didn’t like her right from the start. They’re Catholic, you know? Old fashioned. They wanted me to date a nice Irish Catholic girl whose family goes to our church until we both went to college and got married. American dream type shit.”

“Let me guess - she didn’t fit the bill?” Gene’s mouth ticks up into a wry smile.

Babe laughs. “Not at all. Sara’s Jewish and her plan for the future was to get a degree in feminist literature. 2 kids, a white picket fence, and church on Sunday wasn’t ever going to be in the cards for her.”

“What’d your parents have to say about that?”

“Nothing surprising. It’s not that they didn’t like her as a person, they just didn’t want her to be my girlfriend. She was too different from them.”

“They thought she was too different? Did you ever tell them that you’re attracted to men? Or at least I assume you are, considering…” He trails off and Babe knows that they’re both thinking of the many instances in which Babe has enthusiastically demonstrated his attraction to men during their relationship.

“I came out as bi when I was 15. They were fuckin’ pissed - ‘no son of mine’, that sort of shit. But then they realized that I still liked girls and that calmed them down. They decided I could just ignore the liking guys part of it and be normal. It's bullshit but I went along with it. It was easier not to fight it and just let them think that. Not brave, but easier.”

Eugene looks understanding. “You had to keep living with them. Bravery isn’t as important as survival.”

“Huh.” Babe blinks. “I… never thought about it that way.”

He gets lost in thought until Gene gently urges him on. “You were telling me about Sara?”

“Oh! Yeah. My parents weren’t happy but they didn’t put up a fight because they knew I wasn’t serious about her. We weren’t Romeo and Juliet or some shit. It was convenient. We got along really well and it was fun and fine but it wasn’t anything special. Not like what you and I have.”

“Edward,” Gene says softly, rewarding him with a soft kiss. When they pull apart, Gene nudges him to continue.

“We weren’t serious but we were 16 and stupid as hell. I never got a safe sex talk and I just kind of assumed she was taking care of everything. I think she thought that I knew what I was doing, but I definitely did not. So we were stupid and reckless and she got pregnant. When my parents found out they were…” Babe hesitates, trying to find the correct turn of phrase. “I’d say less than pleased, but they were fuckin’ furious. They tried to convince her parents to let us get married but her folks didn’t think that a baby was a good enough reason to tie two people together for the rest of their lives. Especially teenagers.

“I told Sara it was her decision, that I’d back her 100%. I even offered to make her an appointment at Planned Parenthood. But she made up her mind pretty early on that she didn’t want an abortion but she didn’t want to raise the kid either. She was really sweet about it - she didn’t have to ask my opinion about it but she did and… it was stupid because I was six-fucking-teen, but I said I wanted to raise the baby myself. I didn't even talk to my parents first, I just volunteered for it. I didn’t think about how hard it was going to be or how I’d do it, I just knew that she was carrying my kid and I wanted it.

“Don’t get me wrong, Danny is the best thing I ever did, the best thing that’s ever happened to me. But I didn’t mean for him to happen, and I sure as shit wasn’t ready for him.

“But that’s what I wanted so she and I worked it all out. She was kinda like a… shit, what’s the word for when a lady gets pregnant for someone else?” Babe snaps his fingers, trying to find the word.

“A surrogate,” Gene suggests and Babe points at him in triumph.

“Yeah! A surrogate, that’s it. Thanks.” But his excitement dims like a slowly dying lightbulb. “My folks weren’t happy about that either. I mean, I didn't think they'd be jumping for joy but I thought hey, it's better than abortion in their minds, right? But they were so mad. They wanted me to put him up for adoption and when I said no they told me I was gonna ruin my life, that I was stupid to think I could raise a kid on my own at 16. They said I was too poor, too immature, too damaged. When I told them I didn’t care what they thought, they told me that I was on my own.”

A strange mixture of emotions settles on Gene’s face, sadness and anger combined. Babe looks away so he doesn’t have to see his expression anymore. He presses the heels of his hands against his eyes until a kaleidoscope of shapes and colors swirl on the insides of his eyelids.

“Sara’s ma and dad took me in. I rented their basement and they agreed to watch the baby while I went to school. I think they liked the idea of being involved with their grandkid even if Sara didn’t want to."

“Did any of your family stay in touch?”

“My sister, Bridget and my second oldest brother text on holidays and stuff but they’ve never actually met Danny. They have kids of their own and shit so they’re really busy and they probably don’t want to go up against my ma. The other day in the church was the first time I’d seen her since I said I was keeping Danny.”

“Jesus,” Gene breathes.

“Yeah. It’s not great.”

They pause, Babe taking a few deep gulps of water while Gene contemplates everything he’s heard so far.

“That’s not everything, though.” It isn’t a question.

“No. Just the first half. Want me to keep going?”

Gene nods. “If you want to.”

Babe takes another sip of water and sets the glass on the table. “I always wanted to join the army, ever since I was a kid. My grandpa was a soldier and he used to tell me these stories and I just knew that’s what I wanted. I mean, I was never gonna go to college, even before Danny was born. But I knew I needed to get some money and some security for him.”

“So you chose the army? For stability?” Gene asks skeptically.

Babe laughs a little. “Well, it was selfish too. It’s what I always wanted. So I temporarily transferred guardianship of Danny to Sara’s parents so I could enlist. I signed up the minute I turned 18, right out of high school. I was deployed twice, did two tours in Iraq before I turned 21. That’s where I met Bill, Nix, and Winters. And Julian.” Saying his name hurts, a pang of sharp-edged grief. “He’s, uh… he’s the one who just died.”

Gene reaches out to hold and squeeze his hand.

“It… It was okay. I mean, it wasn't. It was scary and hot and completely fucked but I thought I was doing okay over there for the most part. I was with all these guys who were completely amazing and I grew up a lot. Plus, I knew that I was doing right by my kid and that helped a lot. But during my second tour…” Babe has to pause, feels himself swaying in his seat before he manages to pull himself together.

“We went on patrol together, me and Bill and Toye and a couple other guys. It was supposed to be nothing, completely routine. But our Humvee fucking exploded.”

For one terrifying moment Babe swears he can feel the scorching heat of the flames and the desert licking against his skin, swears he can taste gasoline and his own terror in the air.

“Edward?” Gene sounds worried, the grip on his hand tightening to an almost painful level, but Babe shakes his head.

“I’m okay.” Babe throws him a weak smile. This is normally where he’d stop. He’d let his brain tell him that he’d said enough and he’d clam up. But that’s not an option now, not if he wants to fix things between him and Gene, so he keeps going.

“Bill and Toye both lost a leg, but I was fine.” His voice cracks. “They got blown to shit and all I got was a mild concussion and some superficial wounds. If anyone deserves to be fucked up by it, it’s them. But I’m the one whose brain got broken.” Gene makes a soft noise of dissent but Babe cuts him off. “No, I mean it. It isn’t just flashbacks or nightmares. I forget shit all the time. I have these fuckin’ panic attacks outta nowhere. I hate crowds and loud noises and I’m more afraid of thunderstorms than my goddamn kid. And then sometimes it’s like my brain just… checks out.”

Babe’s hands are shaking when he looks down at them. “I’m not even the one who got hurt, you know? There’s no excuse for it. It just feels like I was too weak to deal.”

Gene takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly like he’s buying himself more time to think about what he wants to say. “I know that you’re talking to a therapist so I’m sure you already know how wrong you are about that. Trauma is trauma. People deal with it differently. It has nothing to do with strength or earning the right to struggle. Would you say that any other person with PTSD is weak?”

“No,” Babe says fiercely, “of course not. Look, I know it’s hypocritical of me but I just hold myself to a different standard. I shoulda been able to handle it.”

He trails off into silence and Gene scoots in closer until they’re pressed and tangled together. “What else did you want to tell me?” Gene prompts after a minute or so of quiet, sensing that there’s more Babe has to say.

“Right. So after the patrol, Bill and Toye got sent home but I had to stay until my tour was over. But after they left, it was like I was dead inside. I knew I had a kid waiting for me at home but nothing felt real. I did such stupid shit… I think part of me wanted to get killed because then at least it would stop. I probably woulda if Julian hadn’t kept me together enough to stick it out until I got shipped home.”

Babe closes his eyes and lets his head fall against Gene’s shoulder. “I was so fucking naive. I figured I’d come home and take care of my kid and go back to normal but it felt even worse than it did over there. I mean, I had Bill and he helped, but how was I supposed to just go back to civilian life after all that shit? I was 21, traumatized as fuck, and I had no idea how to be a real person in the world anymore, let alone a dad.”

“That must have been hard.”

Frustrated, Babe shakes his head. “I’m not trying to get you to feel sorry for me, I swear.”

“I know that. And I’m not pitying you, but it sounds like it was difficult to deal with.” Gene starts to stroke his hand gently over the back of Babe’s head and it feels so good he wants to cry.

“It was. I mean, it’s not like there’s classes that can teach you how to go back to normal after you spend years expecting to die at any minute. So I came home and I pushed all that shit down and I raised Danny because I didn’t know how else to feel real anymore.”

Neither of them says anything. Babe can hear the quiet sounds of traffic going by two stories below, the screeching of a car alarm softened with distance. When he opens his eyes he finds Eugene studying him, searching his face for something that Babe can’t possibly guess.

“And you did it alone.”

Babe shakes his head furiously as his chin quivers. “No, not alone. I got my real family. Bill got me through a war and I haven’t been able to get rid of him since. Nix and Winters basically adopted me. Then there’s Liebgott and Toye and all the other guys. I got people who help me. People who love me and who love Danny and they made it so I wasn’t alone.” His voice creaks like the boards of an old wood floor as he tries to keep from crying.

“Babe,” Gene says, his voice so soft and gentle and the floodgates burst.

Babe starts to sob, trying to bury his eyes in his elbow to hide the tears. “I know that I’m lucky. Lots of people get disowned and they got nobody, you know? But I miss ‘em. I miss my ma and my dad and my brothers and sister. I don’t want to but I do, all the time.”

Ever so gently, Gene uses his hands to coax Babe into a hug. It strikes Babe how nice it is to be held, how much he’s missed it over the past month when he could barely handle even the lightest touches.

“I’m so sorry, Babe,” Gene murmurs, kissing his temple. “You deserve better.”

Babe cries for a long time, longer than he has in ages. The whole time, Gene keeps his arms wrapped firm around him. When he finally feels cried out, Babe pulls his head back with a watery, self-deprecating laugh. “Jesus. I’m a fuckin’ mess.”

“How are you feeling?” Gene presses Babe’s glass of water into his hand, encouraging him to drink.

“I don’t know. Sad. Tired.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” He reaches out to wipe a tear off of Babe’s cheek with his thumb.

Quiet settles over the room as Babe fights to get a hold of his emotions a little more. Their breaths start to move in sync and the slow, even tempo helps Babe settle. When he’s confident he can talk without weeping, he asks, “You got any trauma you want to talk about? Any skeletons in your closet?”

Gene laughs and shakes his head. “I’ll let you have your moment. Mine can wait.” He presses a kiss to Babe’s cheek before he starts to get up and gather their plates. Babe grabs his hand to stop him.

“Wait. I have one last thing to talk about and then I’m done. I want… I wanna tell you about Julian.”

“Okay.” Eugene slowly lowers himself back onto the sofa, his eyebrows creased in concern. “Are you sure? It can wait, if you want. I know how much he meant to you and I’m sure it’s hard to talk about him right now.”

Babe nods hard. “It is, but if I don’t say it now then I might never say it at all. And… he deserves to be talked about, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. I’d really love to hear about him.”

With a deep breath, Babe dives in. “After Bill got hurt, Julian was the only person who could really get through to me. I was just waiting to die, you know? I figured that the patrol was my last bit of good luck so I should just… get it over with. Julian was always the one holding me back and keeping me safe.”

“We all owe him a lot, then.”

Babe’s heart does a funny leap in his chest. “Yeah, I guess so. He was 17 when I met him - he had to get special permission to enlist from his ma. He was so fuckin’ annoying. Here was this skinny little virgin - he’d never even seen a naked girl outside of a magazine - and he was all bright eyed and sure he was gonna change the world. He was just a stupid kid and I was so mad at him for being there.”

“Why?” Gene tilts his head to the side, confused and curious. “You weren’t much older than him when you enlisted.”

“That’s why I was so mad. Sometimes I think that enlisting was the worst choice I ever made and here was this little prick who’d had the chance to do something different and he didn’t. He was smart, his family had money; he coulda gone to college and done something amazing. But instead he was in Iraq, always following us around and asking for explanations and getting in the way. But I felt like I had to protect him so I never let him get too far away. So after Bill and Toye got hit, he’s the one who never gave up on me. He’s the one who fought to make me feel like a human again. By the end of it… look, I’m the youngest kid in my family, right? Julian was like the kid brother I never had.

“When my deployment ended, I tried to convince him to get out when he could. But he already decided by then that he wanted to go career and I couldn’t get him to change his mind. I got this real bad feeling, and it was so frustrating. I’d been waiting to get out of there for months, but all of a sudden I just knew that if I left something bad was gonna happen. I never told him that. I just went home.”

“It wasn’t your job to protect him from his own choices,” Gene says gently. “He was an adult by then and he knew what he wanted. Him dying isn’t your fault.”

“I shoulda been there to protect him, Gene, like all those times he protected me.”

“He wasn’t alone, Babe. He had a whole team of guys around him. There’s nothing they could have done and nothing you could have done, even if you’d been there.”

“I know you’re right,” Babe says quietly. “But it feels like I shoulda been there to protect him. I never even got to pay him back for everything he did for me.”

“I never knew him, but I am positive that he wouldn’t have wanted you to die in his place.”

Desperate for an excuse to look away, Babe picks at the peeling cuticles around his fingernails. “Sometimes it feels like I should have,” he admits in a whisper. “I think he would have come back stronger than I did, you know?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Gene puts his hand over Babe’s so he stops aggravating his hangnails. “I know that Julian must have been a wonderful person and I’m so sorry that I never got to meet him. But his life was not worth more than yours, Edward, no matter how easy he might have found it. You have a son who loves you, who needed you to come home.”

Babe just nods but finds that he can’t trust his voice to speak. Gene leans forward to kiss him gently, drawing him out of his own head just a bit. “Let me go get you some tea, alright?”

He starts to gather up the plates and glasses around them, grabbing Babe’s before he can even try to help. He disappears into the kitchen and Babe can hear the sound of the faucet turning on, the gentle clink of porcelain plates being lowered into the sink.

Eventually Babe decides that he can’t sit in the living room alone with his thoughts any longer, so he gets up and walks silently to the kitchen. There’s an electric kettle plugged in and heating on the counter and Gene is up to his elbows in soapy water with a pensive look on his face.

“Can I dry?” Babe doesn’t wait for an answer as he grabs a dish towel and stands beside him.

They do the dishes in comfortable silence, though Babe wishes desperately he could hear what was going on inside Gene’s head. Once all of the plates and forks are clean and the leftovers have been stashed away in the refrigerator, he turns to Gene.

“Could you say something?” He’s proud of the way his voice doesn’t tremble.

Gene looks at him in surprise, then softens. “Come here.” He wraps his arm around Babe’s waist and backs them up until Babe’s back is pressed against the counter. The intensity of Gene’s gaze makes Babe’s heart flutter, his rapid pulse betrayed by a vein in his neck.

“Babe Heffron, I love you. I love you when it’s easy and when it’s a challenge. I love you as a dad and as a man and as a person with a good, pure heart. I even love you when you leave your wet towels on the bathroom floor. With every day that goes by, I am more and more sure that you are the love of my life.”

It’s at this point that Babe bursts into gasping, ugly sobs. Relief and love and joy and guilt rush through him until he can’t even catch his breath. “I th-thought…” he stammers out between sobs.

“Babe,” Gene croons, taking Babe’s face in his hands gently. “My love’s not fragile.”

Tears come hard and fast until Babe’s face is soaked with saline and snot. Gene gives a wet laugh, his own eyes shining, as he wipes Babe’s face with his sleeve.

“Is… is that from Frozen 2?” Babe sobs.

Gene laughs, bright and open and infectious until even Babe is giggling through his blubbering.

“I should have known you’d call me out,” he murmurs through his smile, leaning up to kiss Babe thoroughly.

They never do get to that tea.