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When Babe first saw Gene, they were at dinner, sitting around shitty mess hall tables eating shitty mess hall food. Babe was with his new found South Philly brothers Bill and Spina. They had just been shooting the shit, complaining about the beans that tasted like clay and the very questionable “chicken” that was in the chicken soup.Then he looked over at the table two away from theirs and he saw Eugene Roe. He wasn’t talking, but he looked quite content to be watching the men around him. The first thing that Babe noticed was his coal-black hair. It looked so soft and thick that Babe’s mind immediately went into overdrive, thinking of scenarios in which he could run his fingers through Gene’s hair.He shook his head. Where did that come from?He looked at Gene’s face. His sharp jawbone had a sprinkling of fine hairs over it. His lips were now quirked into a soft smile, his eyes shining in amusement at something Luz had said.Then Babe stopped in his tracks. His eyes. Fuck Babe if those weren’t the most soulful eyes he had ever seen. They were a deep blue, reminding Babe of the ocean before a storm. They were clear and sparkling and Babe wanted to keep looking at them, in them, trying to figure out the man within.It took him a while to realize those eyes were staring right back at him and Babe startled. He carefully averted his gaze and looked back at his table where everyone was now laughing at something Buck had said. He chuckled as well to cover up.-Gene leaned heavily against the wall and put his head in his hands. He couldn’t keep the images, the noises out of his head. Jackson was dead, just another name on the long list of people who could’ve done something, been something, anything, as long as it wasn’t dead. The screams echoed in his head, and the image of Jackson’s eyes glazing over seemed tattooed on the back of Gene’s eyelids. He pulled his hair hard, as if by doing that he could pull out those memories and tuck them away in a secret, shameful place along with all his other memories of men who died because of him.He slid down the wall to sit on the pavement. A sudden surge of hate rushed through him. He hated Hitler for starting this pointless war that ripped so many people apart. He hated the goddamn army for entrusting him with the lives of so many people. Didn’t they know Gene was only human? Most of all, he hated himself. Each death in the company was no one’s fault but his. So many men had to die because Gene didn’t get there faster, didn’t have more supplies, didn’t-“Gene?” Babe called out tentativelyGene lifted his head out of his hands to look at him. And oh, every thought of hatred was dimmed by the shine in Babe’s eyes.Babe walked over and sat by Gene, cross legged so his knee was just barely touching Gene’s thigh. “Cigarette?” he asked. When Gene shook his head, Babe just shrugged and lit one for himself.“Been looking all over for ya,” he said. “Knew you would be alone somewhere, blaming yourself for Jackson. Knew you’d need me to tell you that it’s not your fault and that-““But it is my fault Babe! If I had been there earlier, or if I had done a better job of calming him down-“ Babe snapped. “It isn’t your fucking fault Gene! You did all you could, you always do. You could never, never hurt somebody,”Babe took a deep breath. He stubbed his cigarette on the ground while Gene just stared at him. It was the first time he had seen Babe angry. He turned to face Gene and took both of his hands in his own. “You see these hands? They were made to heal. To give. They could never take. And it seems like you’re the only person that hasn’t realized that yet. I wish I could show you,” and then Babe lifted one of Gene’s hands and turned it over to place a kiss on his palm.At first his kisses were fast and light, half because he was desperate to show Gene just how perfect he was and half because he wasn’t entirely sure this was okay. When he felt no sign of protest, he slowed down, taking his time to go over every callous, every scar that marked just how strong this man was.His lips moved slowly across his hand, and he did it reverently, as if it was some form of worship. This kiss on his finger spoke of admiration, that one on his wrist assured him of his goodness. Each kiss was long and lingering, and Gene tried not to shiver when he watched Babe, how his eyes were closed as he pressed his lips firmly to every inch of skin.Then he picked up Gene’s other hand and did the same. Gene dipped his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, reveling in the feeling of soft lips and wet mouth over his rough hands. “Babe,” he whispered, wanting to freeze this moment in his memory, wanting to make more moments like this because Babe was the thin silver lining to this sprawling dark storm cloud of a war that was raining blood down on all of them.Babe placed one last kiss on the back of his wrist before he pulled away and sat back, looking at Gene from beneath his eyelashes, sheepish, with a blush riding high on his cheeks. While Babe’s face was normally boyish, under the moonlight he looked ethereal. Gene couldn’t stop staring.Babe smiled nervously as his blush spread down his neck. He leaned in to press a kiss to Gene’s cheek before making to stand up.“I guess I’ll just leave you alone then,” he said, still a little shy. Gene grabbed his hand and pulled him to sit next to him. He kissed Babe’s temple before saying, “Stay.”And stay Babe did.