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Eoin watched passively as Paddy bodily threw his latest opponent out the door.
“You seem to be of a mind to fight the entire squadron.” He commented as Paddy retook his seat, irritatingly swiping the blood from his knuckles before touching the chess pieces.
“Wouldn’t have to if people would only mind their own business.” He grumbled.
“Considering you wanted to join, I would’ve thought there would be less bloodshed.”
Paddy grinned. “If you wanted less bloodshed, we probably should’ve gone to Burma. It’s a testament to Stirling that half the people here are half as mad as me. Any other commanding officer would run for the hills if they were given a group like this.”
“Stirling wasn’t given us.” Eoin pointed out. “He picked us. Well, you. He got saddled with me when he made that choice.”
“I didn’t exactly get a choice either. After I fucked up Burma. It’d be a hell of a trip for you to visit me in my desert jail cell all the way from the jungle.”
“I’d still be visiting, would I?”
“If you ever want to improve your game you would.” To underline his point, Paddy stole another one of his pawns. “I thought our partnership was founded on my being mad and you being smart?”
“Are you picking a fight with me now?” Eoin teased. “You can mock me, but be aware I may stop teaching you how to play the piano out of spite.”
“You are many things, Eoin McGonigal, but spiteful isn’t one of them. It amazes me that a man like you isn’t a fucking do-good do-gooder Quaker. Would almost be as bad as you being a Catholic.”
“Was that another insult?” He chuckled. “I would’ve thought that last punch to your head would’ve knocked some calm into you for at least an hour or two.”
“Never.” Paddy vowed. “I couldn’t avoid a fight if I tried. Especially out here. I don’t know whether it’s the war or the desert. Only man who seems to be sane is you.”
“And Lewes.”
“The man’s not calm; he’s as fucking mental as the rest of us. Jock is just quiet about it. It’s what makes him all the more dangerous.”
Eoin cast a glance out the mess hall window where Lewes was conducting drills, likely preparing them for another long march through the desert on no water. He was fairly certain he should be out there, but he’d noticed the higher-ups in this new regiment rarely seemed to part him from Paddy. Instead they were playing chess in the hall with half a dozen other men who’d been given recreation time. The few left who hadn’t been scared off by Paddy’s latest rampage were playing cards.
In the second he’d taken his gaze off Paddy, he had somehow gotten drawn into another rampage.
“What the fuck are you looking at?” He bellowed at one of the men.
“N-nothing.”
Paddy stood again, knocking back his chair. “Why don’t you learn to mind your own fucking business? Or is a lesson that you need teaching?”
“I wasn’t looking at you!”
“Keep talking and I’ll deliver my fist to your face and your teeth from your arse.” Paddy threatened, encouraging their latest interruption to move on.
Eoin stayed in his seat as Paddy backed the man up and out of the door. It didn’t take his friends long to follow. The look they gave Eoin on their way out proved they thought he was mad. He wouldn’t be surprised if they avoided Paddy like the plague from thereon out, hard as that might be in such a small unit.
“There you go again.” He said once Paddy retook his seat.
“Mad fuckers, just like I told you. Shame they couldn’t be clever too.”
“You’ve cleared the room.”
“Good, we might actually be able to finish a game for once.”
Taking a chance, Eoin said, “You know, you haven’t challenged me yet.”
“I’m challenging you now.” Paddy rebuked, moving his rook to put him in check yet again. “Not that you’re giving me much of a game.”
“We can’t all be chess prodigies. Besides, you know that’s not what I meant.”
Paddy gave him a sharp grin. “I only fight people who piss me off.”
“You fight with everyone.”
“That’s because everyone pisses me off.”
“But not me?”
“Not you.” He sighed, refocusing on the chess board.
Eoin narrowed his eyes, thought for a second. He couldn’t think on it much longer or that common sense of his would kick in. With a swift flick of his index finger, he knocked over his king.
Paddy looked up at him. “We’re not doing this again, are we?”
“You said it yourself, I’m not giving you much of a game. Might as well forfeit in that case.”
As he’d thought he would, Eoin watched Paddy pluck up his sacrificed piece and replace it on the board.
“There’s no point of playing if you don’t play through to the end. You wouldn’t like it if we stopped a song halfway through and this is no different. Now pay attention. You’re still in check but you can get out of it if you think through your next move.”
Eoin nodded, as if taking in Paddy’s advice, before flicking the piece over again.
Paddy’s jaw tightened as he reset it. Before Eoin could knock it over again, he snatched his hand.
“Stop that.”
“Am I starting to piss you off now?” He goaded.
“I may have spoke too soon when I said you weren’t mad.”
Laughing, Eoin otherwise sat still waiting for Paddy’s next move.
“Pick up your king.”
“No.”
“Eoin.”
“Patrick.”
He knew he smiled easily, it’s what kept him out of other people’s rages in a place like this. And the smile still came easily, even when Paddy shot him a glare that would make most men wither and turn tail.
“You never pick fights.”
“I wouldn’t say never.” Eoin rebutted. Paddy was forceful, but Stirling and Lewes wouldn’t have accepted him if he couldn’t hold his own. If he weren’t mostly fearless. Granted, his fights weren’t borne of rage: they were driven by need. Hitting back when his smile didn’t win someone over; standing up for someone who couldn’t; killing an enemy that needed to die.
He hadn’t been with the three of them when they trained – doing whatever the hell they’d done to turn them into such effective killers. He’d been with the Royal Ulster’s, and what he didn’t learn there he learnt through doing. It was easy to smile and put aside his common sense. Jump out of an aeroplane. Sneak into an enemy camp. Challenge the maddest man in the desert to a fight. What could go wrong? He only had one life and he could lose it tomorrow. Or he could live to a hundred with a hundred regrets to live alongside him.
His mother would never forgive him, but what was it Lewes said – amongst the enemy your mother isn’t watching? Something poetic like that. Well they were deep amid the enemy out in the desert.
“You’re serious?” Paddy asked.
“The game’s over.” Eoin confirmed.
There was a war raging in Paddy’s eyes, a different one to the kind that usually inhabited him. When he dropped Eoin’s hand, he expected a different response to the one he got.
“Get up then.”
His heart gave a pathetic thump before he complied, taking care to rise slowly from his seat as though he were at ease – as he always was. At ease while he watched Paddy unleash that rage on unprepared men. Eoin liked to think he was prepared, even if it would be a first for him personally. For some reason, Paddy had liked him from the moment they met. He wasn’t sure what had gained him the rare honour.
Raising his hands, Paddy beckoned him. “Come on then. If you’re determined to prove that you’re mad, do it.”
Not thinking about it, Eoin launched his left fist to hook toward Paddy’s gut. He deflected easily.
“Come on, then.”
His next attempt was also swiftly dodged, but Paddy didn’t make any attempt to return fire until Eoin successfully stomped on his foot and connected his fist to one of his ribs. Paddy retaliated with an open handed hit to the back of his head.
“Better.” He grunted, circling. “Not enough to keep you alive out here though. Try harder.”
He tried to tackle him with arms wrapped around his waist. Paddy dug his face into his neck and pushed back just as fiercely, keeping them locked in place barely moving an inch. Eoin could feel Paddy breathing strongly against his overheated skin, raising goosebumps in his wake despite the oppressive desert heat.
“Are we really doing this?” Paddy muttered against him.
Eoin didn’t think that question was really directed at him, it was just the mad Irishman voicing his thoughts aloud, but that didn’t stop him from answering. He always answered Paddy.
“Of course we are.”
A hand in his hair ripped his head backward and he caught glimpse of a snarled mouth and eyes madder than he’d ever seen. Their heads collided with such force that Eoin wasn’t sure at first whether it was a continuation of the fight, whether Paddy was truly going to fight up – beat him. It was only when Paddy licked into his mouth that he realised what was happening, and was suddenly quite grateful for Paddy’s insistence of frightening off their entire company or else they’d have had quite an audience. As it was, someone only had to look through the window.
Taking advantage of his surprise, Paddy hooked his leg under Eoin’s knee and successfully tackled him to the floor – all without breaking the kiss. It made Eoin wonder, as the sharp collision forced a moment’s awareness into him, how often Paddy had done this and with how many other men.
He tried to show his affection by running his hands up Paddy’s spine, but they were swept back and forced to the floor.
“Those bloody hands of yours.” He grunted, twisting their fingers together before taking his mouth again. Eoin had never been kissed like it. It was as if the air was being pulled from his lungs, leaving him dizzy before a gasp between attacks brought him back to Earth and the intoxicating feeling of Paddy’s weight sprawled atop of him. He wasn’t entirely sure any of this was happening – it felt more like a mirage or a fever dream or something to that effect rather than reality – but that didn’t stop him from hoping it was.
That push back and forth between them, waiting for the other to give a more overt sign. Trying to contain his disappointment when he thought Paddy would go to Burma without him; the shared joy when they thought they’d go together. Breaking the gap between them and placing a hand through the bars; Paddy laying his hand atop his in return. Teaching him how to play the piano; learning how to play chess.
He tried to give his all back in the kiss but Paddy kept him pinned down, leaving no room for movement. As if he would use any opportunity to escape.
Eoin could die here.
The next time Paddy pulled back he moved in for his neck, biting his jugular and repeating the action when the sensation of his teeth caused Eoin to buck beneath him.
“Paddy.” He gasped.
“Shh.” He replied, pressing a kiss to the bite mark. “You don’t want to gain an audience do you? They’re only outside you know.”
That had been easily forgotten in the moment, now all Eoin could think about was how close Lewes and his men were to the mess hall window. They’d only have to glance inside. Then down to the floor where they were currently sprawled. “Why did you have to remind me?”
“Relax,” Paddy coaxed, moving his mouth to hover over Eoin’s, “there are no rules here, remember. Unless you want me to stop?”
“No.” He answered quickly. It was the right response, as Paddy finally released his hands giving him the opportunity to do what he had craved for months – twisting his fingers through his hair, pulling the other man closer to return their mouths together. Paddy’s hands travelled down his back, rucking up his shirt to run fingers over his bare waist.
It was impressive the windows hadn’t steamed up, Eoin felt as though he were on fire. Although that sensation was extinguished when he heard someone clear their throat.
Eyes snapping open, he looked past Paddy’s mutinous expression to see Stirling hanging his hat by the door.
“An officer walks into the room and yet… no salute?” Stirling said, lips curling into a smirk.
“Only if I stand, and I can’t imagine it’s a salute you’d want to see. You already seem to feel inferior around me anyhow.” Paddy replied brusquely, staying firmly in place and keeping Eoin there in turn. “Is there something I can help you with, Captain? Maybe in finding the exit?”
“I merely thought you’d like advance notice that Jock is finishing up his drills and the men will be returning here shortly for a well-earned drink. I know of your fondness for showmanship Mayne, but McGonigal might not feel the same. Hmm?”
Paddy looked down at Eoin, thinking for a moment before hurling them both to their feet. He kept their bodies close, angled, as he gave Stirling a nod.
“Aye. Well, try not to miss us.”
“I take it you have a tent?” Stirling asked teasingly, as they moved toward the rear door. “Maybe consider using it in future, instead of communal areas.”
They did have a tent; Paddy had secured it for them early on and frightened off anyone else who tried to take up residence in it. There weren’t enough tents for two men to take one for themselves – even Stirling, their CO, shared with Lewes – but Paddy had a way of making people come around to his way of thinking. He’d never been so grateful for it.
“Paddy.” He muttered as they marched toward it. “Stirling…”
“He won’t.”
“But how do you…”
“He wouldn’t. I know him. He might be a self-entitled egoist, but he’s no bigot. If he can find it in himself to tolerate an American, he’ll keep his mouth shut about this. Trust me.”
Eoin did, so he let it go.
Flipping open the tent’s flap, Eoin followed Paddy inside. Usually when they retired for the evening – or whenever Paddy got too pissed off to be around other people – Eoin would head for his bed and take up whatever book he’d borrowed from his countryman’s collection. That was if Paddy didn’t read it to him – he liked that.
He was about to suggest they pick something when he was seized again. He half expected to land on his back a moment later but their kiss was softer this time, less angry, less rushed. Without his hands pinned to the floor, Eoin was able to wind his way closer and fully lose himself in the embrace without fear of further intrusion.
Paddy remained the one in charge and ended their kiss when the air around them seemed at risk of combustion. Pushing Eoin’s hair back, he looked up, trailing his gaze over his face to commit him to memory.
“What?” He asked, smirking at Paddy’s breathlessness. It was quite a feeling, bringing the mad dog to heel.
Pulling back, Paddy assessed their beds and started work pushing them together. Eoin crossed his arms and watched, his grin getting progressively wider. That was that then, they were sharing. Of course the mad bastard wouldn’t ask, or even consider the potential questions it would raise if anyone were to pay them a visit.
Laying down, a swift pat of the space beside him indicated where he was meant to go and so Eoin dropped down beside him. It was too hot with the sun still out to curl into each other – that would come later – so they settled with tangled fingers and boots knocking together.
Paddy leant over and pressed another kiss to his lips before settling back down. He stared up at the canopy, wondering what on Earth had happened to make this finally happen – wondering what it meant for them – before he spoke again.
“You know what, Eoin? You run risk of making me love life enough to become a coward. To run from danger instead of toward it. Would you run away with a coward, Eoin? Or would I become a hen you wouldn’t want?” Paddy said, referencing a song of theirs.
“You wouldn’t want to run from the SAS.” Eoin said, taken aback. “This is everything you’ve been after. No rules, no stalling, no…”
“No guarantee of living to the next day. That’s stayed the same.”
Rolling his head toward him, Eoin posed a realistic question – the kind Paddy hated. “Where could we even go? Burma?”
“I might lose you there too.” He sighed defeatedly, staring up at the canopy. This wasn’t a concept Eoin was used to: Paddy giving up. He didn’t want them to be the reason it happened.
“Leave the army entirely?”
“Desertion. Worthy of an execution that is.”
“Men have tried to put a noose around your neck before.”
“Not yours. Never yours.” Paddy groaned. “This is what I mean, Eoin. You make me want to live. It’s never been a problem I’ve had before.”
Knowing the ridiculousness of the statement before he even offered it, he replied, “We might make it.”
There was no humour in the returning laugh. “My only hope is if I keep you alive or I die with you. The only hope we have of growing old together is if we share a grave. And doesn’t that just scare the shit out of you?”
Eoin thought about it, the two of them rotting together, felt Paddy crane his neck to look over at him while he did. Honestly, it sounded quite nice. A thought that should have been terrifying and yet it wasn’t. Death should be terrifying, but with Paddy it wasn’t. Paddy was the only thing that made the desert bearable and he never wanted to experience it without him.
He offered up that easy smile of his in return. “No.”
Paddy returned the grin; his own much wider, much wilder.
“Good lad. You never let me down do you?”
“I try not to.”
“I’ll try too.” Paddy promised. “God help me, I’ll try. You know you’ve picked a mad one though?”
Eoin snickered. “Picked? At what point today have I been given a choice?”
“You could’ve thrown me off if you’d wanted to.”
“Aye, I could’ve.”
“You didn’t though.” Paddy reminded.
“I know.”
“There’s been many a time you could’ve turned tail. I’ll never understand how I haven’t scared you off.”
“It’s not like you’ve ever tried.”
“Aye. It’s too hard to threaten the face of such a handsome bugger.”
“That’s lovely, that. You should put that in a poem.” Eoin said sardonically. “You could rival Keats.”
“Sweet, sweet is the greeting of eyes, and sweet is the voice in its greeting…” Paddy recited effortlessly, “Warm the nerve of a welcoming hand…”
He squeezed his hand, “And earnest a kiss on the brow…” Paddy turned on his side to drop a kiss between his eyebrows.
“Are you going soft now?” Eoin teased.
“Only in words.” Paddy stated, rolling onto his arm so his body pressed against his. “But not yet, aye? Gotta be prepared.”
Eoin fidgeted against his side.
“What?” He asked.
“It’s nowt.”
“No… come on. You impatient? Because I can help.”
Closing his eyes at the thought, Eoin decided it were better to be honest and without thinking the sentence through he said, “I was just wondering how many times you’d done this.”
“I don’t have the anal retentiveness,” Paddy cackled momentarily at his choice of words, “the retentiveness of people like Stirling to keep score. It’s been enough men to know what I’m doing. You?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No.”
“No, you won’t answer or no… no there’s been no one else.”
Eoin fidgeted again. Paddy settled him with a hand on his hip.
“Oh that’s good, that is. It’ll make it much easier for me to impress you this way. Besides, I’ve come near to killing a man or two for showing too much interest in you. If you did have that kind of past I’d be spending my next leave very differently than the way I plan to.”
“How do you plan to?” Eoin asked, more interested in knowing if he would be involved than acknowledging Paddy’s possessiveness. He’d already figured it would be likely given how he acted in friendship.
“Presumably back in Cairo, where I’ll be getting everything we need and – most importantly – finding a bed not made out of stolen Army surplus. No ears about, at least none that’ll question the sounds coming out of your mouth a few days in. That’ll be the point I’ll start writing poetry I imagine.” He said, pressing the words against his skin. His hand was roaming and Eoin found it hard to keep still. It didn’t seem that Paddy wanted him to stay still, doing what he could to draw a reaction by biting down on that same point on his neck just as he pressed a hand to the front of his slacks.
“Jesus.” Eoin groaned, bucking up just as helplessly as he had before.
“I preferred it when you said my name.” He muttered against his jugular. “How do I get you to say it again?”
He bit harder and obligingly Eoin gasped, “Paddy.”
“Shh, shh. Overeager thing you are. Let’s see what I can do for you in the confines of our current hellscape. Can’t hurt you.”
Pulling back slightly, Paddy tugged at the buttons of his shirt until he could push the fabric away. He worked on his own while Eoin wiggled out of his vest, only content once their bare skin was touching.
Eoin expected to be held firm under his weight again in that delightful way, but Paddy caught him off guard and pulled him on top.
“Let’s see what I can do for you.” He groaned, settling his hands on his hips and pulling him into a delightful movement that satisfied them both. He hadn’t done this since he was a teenager, experimenting on his own or with the odd girl he could sneak away with. Sinking his head into Paddy’s neck, Eoin let the heat envelop them, savoured the feeling of Paddy’s controlling hands digging into his flesh and fell further into franticness as the friction built into a relieving climax that Paddy followed him through until they were laying in a pool of ruined bedding and discarded clothes.
Neither cared, and Eoin slumped against him. Paddy pulled one hand up his spine, tangled it into his hair to keep him in place.
“So controlling.” Eoin muttered tiredly.
Paddy didn’t know what he meant but chuckled all the same. He assumed Eoin was talking about him and had to agree. If he had the power he’d control the sun just to make Eoin happy.
“Should clean you up. Before it gets cold.” He told himself.
“Few minutes.” Eoin reasoned and Paddy agreed.
“Few minutes. Shall I read to you? It doesn’t bore you does it?”
“No, read me something.”
He snatched up the first book from the pile beside them. He opened to the first page and started to read, more to calm his pounding heart than for Eoin.
“Ah! ken ye what I met the day. Out oure the Mountains…”
Feeling limbless, starting to struggle between differentiating reality from fantasy, Eoin succumbed to the warm satisfaction still running through his body and let Paddy’s voice lull him toward sleep. Bring on the next day, he thought, for every day with Paddy was an adventure he couldn’t wait to start.