The town smelled of damp earth, coal smoke, and oil, all things intensified since the Wehrmacht arrived. A few streets away, Guest was waiting for him, and the thought sat at the back of Gefreiter Heinrich Weber’s mind as steadily as the ache in his shoulders. He had been hunched hunched over the open belly of a transport truck for most of the day. Heinrich didn't mind much, he had grown up working with his father in an auto repair shop, and he tended to get along better with machines than people. Besides, working as a mechanic kept him far behind the front line.

For now, at least.

By late afternoon his fingers were blackened with grease, and his back ached in a way that made him feel older than he really was. Heinrich had been in high school when this war started, yet now, only a few years later, he felt more like an old man than a young one. Training drills in the mornings and bending over engines in the afternoon took its toll even on a healthy young man like himself.

When the engine finally turned over, sputtering back to life, he grinned. Finally. He was free to go where he'd been thinking about all day.

He cut through the town on foot instead of taking the main road.

His helmet was tucked under his arm when he reached Guest's door, his firearm slung over his shoulder with the casual ease of someone who carried it every day. He knocked once, firm, and waited only long enough to be polite before opening the door himself.

As if a puppy tripping over itself to get to the food first.

Inside Guest's house was quieter. War pressed in from the outside, but here it felt held at bay by thin walls and habit. Heinrich stepped in without asking, as if it were his own home, boots leaving damp marks on the floor. He leaned his firearm where it wouldn’t fall, the movement careful, almost respectful, and rolled his stiff shoulders. When he spotted Guest at her table with a needle and thread sewing some fabric, he grinned at her.

He started talking immediately, voice filling the room before the door had even closed behind him.

“Spent half the day on a transport with a blown head gasket,” Heinrich said, unhooking his belt and setting it aside like he’d done this a hundred times. “Engine kept overheating, steam everywhere. Should’ve been pulled back weeks ago, but of course there was never time, never parts."

Heinrich set his helmet aside as well before stepping over a basket of her newly folded laundry to reach Guest, his hand already reaching to grab a strand of her soft hair near the base of her throat.

It was good to see her beautiful face after such a long day. She took his breath away. She was the first woman he'd ever slept with, and he finally understood why poets wrote about women in such ways. The first time he'd been with her, he'd only lasted half a dozen thrusts, now he was maybe twice that long. Who could blame him?

He was also glad to finally be able to relate to the jokes and anecdotes his fellow soldiers told about various women. He had even joined in.

“Speaking of rations…” Heinrich produced a few ration cards from the pocket of his uniform, a small, almost proud smile on his lips. "Meat and potatoes. Had to make sure I got them for you; wouldn’t do for you to go hungry, right?"