Don't You Know Who I Think I Am?

Behind the Mess Hall buffet counter, there was the, excellent, cook; Patrick V. M. Stump. He never cooked up anything that wasn’t edible- the 27th Troop was extremely lucky to have him. Pretty much all of the other troops had god awful cooks who couldn’t make something that wouldn’t make you barf.
But Troop 27 had Patrick. And they were lucky. Most of the troop took their luck for granted- but there was one, particularly feminine, Lieutenant who did not.

Lieutenant Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III had fixed his military issued pants to be extra tight, and just got finished stitching in a small bat patch into the upper thigh. “Lt. Wentz!” A tall, bearded man walked into Pete’s quarters. He gave Pete a salute and the smiled. “Pete, it’s dinner time, dude.”

Pete had almost jabbed himself with the scissors when he cut the thread from the patch. “Damnit, Joe.” He said putting the scissors away. “I thought I asked you to knock before you came in my fucking quarters!?”

Joe laughed. “You probably did. But we’ve got to go- Andrew’s been holding our spots in line down in the Mess Hall for about fifteen minutes now.” He looked at the clock on the wall behind Pete. “So put down your needles, Grandma.” Joe pulled Pete by his arm all the way to the Mess Hall.

---

Pete, Joe, and Andy sat at a table close to the buffet. They’d be able to get to the buffet quicker for seconds like that. “That cook is nice.” Andy muttered from behind a comic book. “And his food is pretty good- it’s refreshing.” He scooped a spoonful of his soup into his mouth.

“And he’s a cutie.” Pete looked over the cook, nodding in approval.

“Lt. Wentz!” Joe almost yelled. “That’s not- You shouldn’t- We do not need to know that. We shouldn’t know that.” Joe leaned across the table. “It’s against regulation.”

“Fine then, don’t listen.” Pete stood up. “I’m gonna go talk to him- wish me luck!” He picked up his soup bowl and headed to the buffet.

“He’s gonna flop.” Andrew turned the page in his comic. “There’s no way one of staff is going to go for something like that.” He shook his head in disappointment. “Don’t stroke my leg, Private Trohman.” Andy elbowed him in his gut, causing Joe to scoot over slightly.

“Sorry, Hurley.” Joe continued to eat his food.

Pete set his bowl on the side counter. “So-“ Pete started up some idle conversation. “-what’s the special today, Lunchbox?”

Patrick looked up at him from under his glasses and red hat. “L-L-Lunchbox?” His blue eyes seemed troubled. “I-It’s Patrick.”

“You’re the special today? I could deal with that.”

“No no no no.” Patrick blushed. “That’s my name- it’s not Lunchbox. The special is Brisket and Veal today.”

Pete laughed softly. “That blush looks great on your face, Lunchbox. It kinda blends with your pink lips.” Patrick averted his eyes. “You… You Keep looking away. Why is that…?”

Patrick couldn’t help but still avoid Pete’s eyes. He mumbled something too low for Pete to hear. Patrick readjusted his glasses, and looked down. “Y-You know.” He quickly said something else before Pete could question about his mumble. “I did say my name was Patrick, not Lunchbox.”

“What did you say before…?” Pete leaned over the counter, eyeing Patrick devilishly.

“Nothing.”

“I swear I heard ‘Sexy’ in that discomforted mumble.”

“I said that I keep looking away because,” Patrick looked away again, lowering his voice. “, because I kinda like you- and I don’t want you to really know.” His voice faded out at the end.

“Aww, Lunchbox.” Pete smiled, and put his hands over his heart. “That’s sweet.”

“I told you my name was Patrick.”

“Oh, I know your name, Lunchbox. But I think Lunchbox fits you. You do make lunch…” Pete climbed over the counter, and walked up to Patrick.

Patrick couldn’t help but smile slightly. “I-I-!” He stuttered in an angelic voice. He pulled his hat down over his eyes. “Lieutenant Wentz, you aren’t supposed to be back here.” Patrick held his arm by the elbow, not meeting Pete’s eyes.

“And you aren’t supposed to be in my quarters, but that sure as fuck is not going to stop me.” Pete took Patrick by the arm and led him out the back door of the kitchen.

“Lieutenant! This is really against regulation!” Patrick wasn’t really complaining, he was only making sure Pete was aware of this.

“Don’t Ask, don’t tell.” Was all Pete said before they got to Pete’s quarters.

Patrick remembered the night to be long- filled with love, but long. He woke up in the early morning, curled up next to Pete, who was sure to be out for another hour or so. Patrick smiled as he thought for a moment. Things had gone over well. He nodded to himself. He was satisfied- he had really always liked the Lieutenant.
Sighing happily, he pulled the blankets over himself and Pete, and snuggled in closer. It was only about 4 am anyway.

“Patrick- are you leaving me…?” Pete asked sleepily, he’d been woken by the slight movement.

“No, no.” Patrick said, leaning into Pete’s arm. “Don’t worry, go back to sleep.”

“I love you, Lunchbox.”

“I love you too, Pete.”