#mctoye
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convergence. joe toye/earl mcclung, 1k
When he turns and looks back down the grass track, he finds he’s lost all sight of Aldbourne. (The relief of being alone like the relief of a ceasefire. And the stillness like the waiting of a ceasefire.) No lights in the darkness, nothing silhouetted against the sky.
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OMG I loved that last one!! Can I have more? Like maybe “Keeping a Secret” or “Two Roads” or “Relaxation” or Toye and McClung?!? ❤️❤️❤️
Also I really like your definition of 5 sentences. You should keep that. 😂❤️
x. keeping a secret / two roads / relaxation
Aldbourne, July 1944.
He’s not sure how far he’s walked, or for how long, or exactly where he is now. Time alone is a luxury he’s never had much of, if at all, and even less in the army. Sometimes close quarters feel too close. It feels like he’s still walking out the confinement of the ship, the planes, now the village. Maybe England feels smaller. All he knows is he’s travelled farther over the past couple of years than he had in his entire life before the war, same as most of them.
When he turns and looks back down the grass track, he finds he’s lost all sight of Aldbourne. (The relief of being alone like the relief of a ceasefire. And the stillness like the waiting of a ceasefire.) No lights in the darkness, nothing silhouetted against the sky.
This soon after the return from Normandy, the rules are lax. A lot of the guys are using their weekend passes, and it doesn’t much matter where he is. Usually he would have used the pass to head out of Aldbourne too, but this one time he didn’t want to. Tonight it feels like the quietest place he’s ever known.
Ahead of him the path intersects with another. Nothing to choose between them in the darkness; easier to find his way back if he doesn’t change direction, he thinks. It’s on his left he sees a figure approaching – another paratrooper, he’s pretty sure, though he doesn’t yet recognise who. For a moment too much in shadow, for a moment everything unfamiliar, then it changes to familiarity: the shape, the silent gait, the angles of his face. Unsurprising, somehow, that it’s McClung.
He hadn’t made much effort to get to know McClung at first. Not a Toccoa guy, after all. But a few weeks, maybe a month or so, had gone by and he’d started to think he should. McClung came into the company already knowing more than most of them had, probably more than some guys still do, though Joe’s never said any of that out loud. It’s been a year now, and they know each other well enough, but after combat – he realises – is a different kind of knowing.
And so he’s not surprised because he’s learned many small things about everyone and McClung has this singular quality about him, this way of doing something a little unexpected. So if anyone was going to show up here, when Joe thought there was nobody else in a mile’s radius, it figures it would be McClung.
Joe thinks he’s about to turn back towards Aldbourne, but instead McClung falls into step beside him.
“Where’re you headed?”
“Nowhere,” McClung says. “Walked a few miles, looped back around, heard you.”
“Heard me.” He’d thought he’d been pretty quiet – learned that in the mine, learned it more in the army – but Mac’s always been someone, maybe the only one, he can’t get anything past. Still, he’s not convinced.
“From a mile off,” McClung says, unkindly.
Joe had expected to be the only one out here, everyone else in London or maybe some other city. If he’s honest with himself, the idea of being in a city now had felt jarring, too much noise, too many people. He’ll get over that, soon.
“Thought you’d gone to London,” he says. Not that he’d paid close attention.
“Yeah,” McClung says, a little absently, “tomorrow, maybe.”
Joe doesn’t ask why.
He says instead, “So you’re avoiding everyone?”
McClung makes an affirmative noise. “Fucking ship,” he says briefly, from which Joe figures the Normandy crossing was an unwelcome reminder of the SS Samaria to McClung, too.
“How about avoiding me?”
“Got unlucky.”
He’d been worried about McClung after the jump, when the platoon had been scattered – about all of them – but not as uneasy as he might have been. He’d always had an instinct that Mac would be OK. Still, something in him had eased when McClung rejoined them, and he hasn’t altogether shaken that feeling. Joe would rather go into combat with him than without him.
And McClung’s corporal now, which Toye would have expected sooner or later anyway, but most of them have been promoted now, after Normandy. As if Mac’s thoughts are running along similar lines, Joe sees him glance at his new sergeant stripes.
“You’d better not undermine my authority,” he says.
Mac shrugs. “You’ve outranked me for a while already,” he says. “We’ll see if it makes any difference.”
He looks at Joe, expressionless, which Joe knows how to read by now.
Joe says, “You’re a liability.”
“That’s my job.”
“Yeah, save it for the enemy.”
The promotion feels good, right now. Maybe later it won’t, when they jump again. Returning to England, it felt like they’d won the first round, like that protects them now. And far deep down he knows there’s nothing true about that: a warning sense that he won’t, can’t, listen to.
Aldbourne’s a good place for walking: fields, farm tracks, drovers’ roads, small forests. No light, out here, except the moon. Bright enough to see the path, bright enough to see McClung: illuminating his face, his hands, against the shadowed lane. The darkness of the warm summer night still feels quiet and private, as if Mac showing up unexpectedly was no interruption, just a natural and inevitable part of it. He’s someone who it’s easy to be quiet with.
“Weren’t you heading back?”
“Got to make sure you don’t get lost,” McClung says. But then, more quietly, “I’ll head back if you want.”
Joe shakes his head. Somehow that’s the last thing he wants now. “What if I get lost?” he says, and Mac laughs, which Joe realises doesn’t happen too often.
If McClung had gone back to the village, like Joe had expected, he’d have thought that was what he wanted, but it wouldn’t have been. Under that feeling lie things he doesn’t want to think about.
He’s walking a little slower now than he did before Mac showed up. His shoulder bumps McClung’s accidentally, but McClung doesn’t put any distance between them. The night feels like something that’s theirs, some shared secret. He wants it to last. He thinks maybe McClung’s watching him a little, but he doesn’t mind that. Likes it, maybe.
Eventually they’ll have to turn back, of course, and he feels a strange pull of regret for it, now. But that’s not yet, none of what’s to come is yet, he can forget. He can be alone, the two of them, and believe this is the only part that matters.
He’ll never talk about this night with anyone else, and with McClung he’ll never need to talk about it. But he thinks he’ll remember it. For this place, for this time, and because of Earl.
#decided to do the three prompts in combination#thank you for sending this! I know it was... 'a little while ago' shall we say#and yes I do think they're lowkey flirting but how self aware they are is a different question#band of brothers#joe toye#earl mcclung#toye x mcclung#mctoye#my fic#thank you to mucca for helping me out with some timeline stuff#anyone wanting to send more prompts feel free#(anon is on if that's your style)#my writing schedule is in the hands of g-d and five sentences is whatever tf it wants to be#**
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You watch the goddamn line, McClung.
#band of brothers#bobedit#hbowaredit#hbo war edit#perioddramaedit#joe toye#earl mcclung#gene roe#toye x mcclung#mctoye
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f i n e, I'll self indulge: Bar/Restaurant AU + Criminal (or Detective) AU + mctoye
This is so overdue I'm sorry.
Originally from this post.
Originally I approached this idea from the angle of one of them being a bartender/restaurant person and one of them being a criminal (or detective) but u know what? Can both of them be criminals and have a fave shady hangout that both of them are sometimes behind the bar at? Is that allowed? Hangout/probably a front for whatever they're doing because they totally wouldn't stay in business otherwise.
And maybe it's the Dinner Rush (2000) but I'm seeing a distinctly '90s quality to this movie. Dark. Both physically and thematically. But also darkly humorous.
#hmmmmmm#answered#onelungmcclung#We Will Discuss#..........also just found in our chat where you mentioned sending this and saying it was Dinner Rush inspired.#congratulations i played myself#also v into movies that take place over the course of a day/night#could see that here
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return. joe toye/earl mcclung, 4k
He thought about writing to Joe often, in Germany and Austria, in the times he spent alone in the Austrian woods. Even once the war ended, he never did. Instead he’s here, four months after getting back to the States, outside the door he thinks is the right door.
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the space and thin air. joe toye/earl mcclung, <1k
He thinks they’re in their foxhole —
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solace. joe toye/earl mcclung, <1k
It doesn’t happen often but it happens: the worst things he’s seen, felt, coming back to him at night, in too much detail for something almost a year gone.
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dance. joe toye/earl mcclung, <1k
“Are you leading?” Joe murmurs. “Am I leading?”
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thread. joe toye/earl mcclung, 1.5k
The day’s dawned bright and cool. He could be at Sunday morning mass but instead he’s here, not long after washing up their breakfast things. In the next room, Jack Denny is singing Nevertheless I’m in love with you on the gramophone. There are other things he might be doing, but for now he’s just leaning against the worktop, drinking the last of his coffee and watching Earl.
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regret. joe toye/earl mcclung, <1k
It seemed to take him a long time to leave his hole and reach Joe. He helped Doc Roe to get him onto the stretcher. Joe looked at him then, and McClung wanted to find something to say but could not, so he touched Joe on the shoulder and let him go.
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december. joe toye/earl mcclung, <1k
He knows McClung as well as he knows most of the men but he never realised just how much the other man talks to himself until they’re sharing a foxhole in Bastogne and all the time McClung is twisting his hands, rubbing them together in an attempt to keep himself warm, and murmuring to himself.
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and even now in the gathering dark
#bobedit#band of brothers#joe toye#earl mcclung#toye x mcclung#mctoye#hbowaredit#hbo war edit#edit#look I ask myself 'why' every single day but who am I to question#making mctoye edits takes a lot of determination I will admit#(poem is by tom hansen)#**
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whaup movie: set during ww2 in the shetland islands, transporting allied agents between scotland and german-occupied norway under cover of darkness, against the twin dangers of the harsh sea conditions and discovery by enemy forces. / x. x.
mctoye au for @papersergeant-pencilsoldier with ever-increasing gratitude for all manner of galaxy-braining 💜
#joe toye#earl mcclung#toye x mcclung#mctoye#bobedit#this is pretty moody for something inspired by a meme#but it's important to Commit#and let's not try to pretend I wouldn't watch tf out of a movie like this#not quite sure what branch of the military they're attached to but they would not have got kicked out of the soe for being not-hetero#ps if anyone spots any historical discrepancies no you did not#edit#whaup movie#big 'go niche or go home' energy#**
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He’s not sure how far he’s walked, or for how long, or exactly where he is now. Time alone is a luxury he’s never had much of, if at all, and even less in the army. Sometimes close quarters feel too close. It feels like he’s still walking out the confinement of the ship, the planes, now the village. Maybe England feels smaller. All he knows is he’s travelled farther over the past couple of years than he had in his entire life before the war, same as most of them.
When he turns and looks back down the grass track, he finds he’s lost all sight of Aldbourne. (The relief of being alone like the relief of a ceasefire. And the stillness like the waiting of a ceasefire.) No lights in the darkness, nothing silhouetted against the sky.
#band of brothers#joe toye#earl mcclung#toye x mcclung#my fic#mctoye#I am very tired so may edit tags or w/e later#**
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Ooh, could i request #39 for Toye/McClung, please and thank
39. dreams
He thinks they’re in their foxhole, and it’s sometime around dawn, a grey light spreading across the sky, and McClung’s crouched over the small fire they’ve managed to build, heating a little of their coffee ration to share, and when he passes the tin cup to Joe he feels the residual warmth in Mac’s fingers.
He thinks they’re in Fort Bragg, and it’s the first time he watched McClung shoot, and he feels that twisting thread of respect and envy and relief they have another good sniper, and something else, like warmth, like fascination.
He thinks they’re on leave in Rheims, when he went out drinking one night with Mac and a couple of other guys from their platoon, and someone said Hey who’s the better shot, you or Shifty? and Mac said Oh Shifty can’t shoot for shit, I’ve been covering for him the whole time and caught Toye’s eye, laughingly, for just for a moment that nobody else saw.
He thinks they’re in England, in the village stable they were billeted in, that night when it was just the two of them, playing cards in the straw for a little money, a few cigarettes, and then for things they don’t have, inventing more farfetched wagers each time.
He thinks he’s lying wounded in the snow, and on the plane, and it’s taking him away from his body. Something – morphine, blood loss, darkness – fogs his vision and he can feel the engine. He thinks McClung is lying beside him, the same steady reassuring weight of him that Joe knows like his own breathing, and McClung murmurs something to him he can’t quite hear over the noise of the plane. And then he knows this can’t be true, and he knows maybe they won’t see each other again, but he tries to hold onto it, he tries to believe it: the feel of Mac against him, the sound of his voice.
#working on the other one you sent!!#five sentences is a vibe not a number#but this is closer than last time#band of brothers#mctoye#toye x mcclung#joe toye#earl mcclung#my fic#**
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Ahh! 5 Sentence Drabbles!! So exciting. I would love a #5 (Seeking Solace?) for McClung and Toye 🥺🥺🥺❤️❤️❤️
thank youuuu 💜 summary: postwar, lowkey h/c, g rating (later I’ll decide whether to post it to ao3 as part of ask him to dance or as a standalone; probably the former)
It doesn’t happen often but it happens: the worst things he’s seen, felt, coming back to him at night, in too much detail for something almost a year gone. Sometimes, like tonight, it seems he can’t move or defend himself, trapped or too badly wounded, and he wakes, trying to talk himself down from a fear worse than he remembers, trying to let his muscles ease again, and wondering if what he dreamt is what Joe felt, that day they rarely speak of.
Minutes pass – or so it feels – until he can make himself sit up. What is the use, he thinks, the tiredness turning almost to anger, what is the point of reliving it. He’s torn between getting some air and staying beside Joe, because Joe is always the quiet place for his mind to go, during day or night. But the room seems smaller, closer, than other nights, and so at last he rises, dresses, all in long practised silence, and slips out of the room.
***
Joe wakes alone, a little later that night. He almost thinks nothing of it, until he notices Earl’s clothes are gone. That worries him, not because he thinks Earl will be hard to find but because he knows what it means when Earl goes out alone at night.
He pulls on his clothes, and doesn’t bother with his prosthesis or a crutch until he’s downstairs, where one of his crutches stands in the stairwell. The quiet sound of the wood on the floorboards irritates him a little, but it’s probably better he can’t startle Earl just now.
He finds Earl in the narrow alley at the back of the row of houses, sitting on their step and smoking. He doesn’t look around or get up, just shifts aside to let Joe by. Joe stays in the open doorway, leaning against the doorpost behind him.
“That kind of night?”
Earl nods. He passes Joe the cigarette. Joe reaches down with his free hand to slide his fingers into Earl’s hair. He can feel the lingering tension ebb out of Earl, slowly.
He knows they can’t be seen from here. He keeps his fingers in Earl’s hair as he returns the cigarette to him.
Earl’s always been there for him on bad nights. Sits with him downstairs or drives him somewhere quiet they can be alone, all without asking or being asked. This has happened before, too, but a little less often; he knows the things that bring Earl out here at two in the morning, and wishes he could protect Earl from them. There’s nothing either of them can do, but he’s not going anywhere.
“You need anything?” he says, quietly.
Earl shakes his head. He leans his head against Joe’s thigh, gently. His eyes close.
Joe’ll stand here all night if it helps any. Maybe talk Earl into taking the day off work, if this is all the sleep they get. Earl doesn’t move, still leaning into him, and neither does Joe. He’ll just do whatever Earl needs, he thinks. For as long as he needs it.
#replies#my fic#band of brothers#toye x mcclung#mctoye#joe toye#earl mcclung#I have absolutely no intuitive idea of what five sentences look like#it's basically the same as five paragraphs right#and then you have a little flexibility on that#and then the divine muse punches you in the face so you let her call the shots#I have a hilariously awful commute to work (just while training) but today I put it to better use#I promise I have not forgotten the other prompts in my inbox#alternate summary: h/c feat. two people who have never once knowingly sought solace in their entire stoical lives#**
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