#Off roading | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

bcolfanfic · 19 days ago

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hiiiiii (: spent too much time on lesbian history jstor and decided i need to give cessie some proper development- just in time for @blind-dates-fest (; we will see much more of her in my clegan WIP off roading- but here’s this for now.

***this is a completely different alternate universe than brady blue ticket land

**annie is cessie's friend from college that had them start writing each other

i guess she is technically a the pacific oc haha. but for now she's in mota land (:

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May 15th, 1945 - Okinawa

Marjorie,

Your last letter only made its way to my hands in the dead of night, and I read it then and there, half-asleep but unwilling to wait. I like the way your words sound in my head, like I can hear you saying them. Annie doesn’t have much of an accent, but I suppose that’s because she’s not really from Wyoming. You must have one though, I’d expect. And I’d expect I’d like it too.

I can’t say I’m surprised that your pilot is bringing his pilot home. From all you’ve told me, I’d have wagered as much. I do hope he knows what he’s doing, but if he’s anything like you say, I expect they’ll be just fine given the chance.

As for things here, well, you can likely guess. It’s a strange thing, feeling the tide turning but still having to wade through the worst of it. I think I’m better at lying than I’ve ever been. The boys ask me if I think it’ll be over here too anytime soon, and I look them in the eye and tell them yes, though I don’t believe it myself. I think of home more often these days, but when I try to picture it, it doesn’t come as easy as it used to. Too much distance, I suppose. Or too much time.

There’s so much more I’d like to say, but you know how it is. I’d rather say it to your face, anyhow. It’s funny, isn’t it? I’ve seen your handwriting more than I’ve seen you. That hardly seems fair. I hope we’ll be able to fix that soon enough.

Write when you can, you know I’ll be waiting.

All my love,

Cessie

September 30th, 1945 - Casper, Wyoming

Cessie had imagined this moment a hundred times, maybe more. Every time she tucked a letter or a drawing into an envelope and sent across an ocean to somewhere safe. To a woman she’d never met but who, somehow, had become something steady in a world that never was.

For what had felt like a lifetime, her hands had been busy with bandages, needles, and the sweat-slicked, blood-slicked, foreheads of boys far too young to be dying. The idea of the war ending had once seemed almost ridiculous. The idea of the war ending and her standing here, in Casper, even more so.

And yet.

Marjorie stood just beyond the threshold, the late afternoon light catching on her hair, turning it gold at the edges. She was just a bit shorter than Cessie had pictured, hands twisting together at her waist, fingers curling and uncurling.

She looked like she might startle if she breathed too loud.

And was every bit as pretty as she’d been in the few photographs she’d sent her.

Cessie took a deep breath, glancing down at herself. Her dark, curly hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, a few strands brushing her freckled cheeks. She tugged the sleeve of her blouse into place and adjusted the way it tucked into her trousers, suddenly hyper-aware of the tremble in her hands.

Restless, she pushed a hand back through her hair, finding that she needed the motion to ground herself.

“Marjorie,” she said, finally.

Marjorie’s lips parted slightly, but no words came at first. Her hands fluttered at her sides before she managed to clasp them together right underneath her chin.

“Cessie,” she breathed, with a tremble to it.

Behind her, Cessie heard a sharp little snort, then a laugh, loud and unrestrained. The source stood just behind Marjorie, a dark-haired man she didn’t recognize. But the blonde one who shot him a quick glare before pinching his hip in reprimand, she knew from the photos was Gale.

Before she could decide whether to acknowledge them or not, the dark-haired one cleared his throat and stepped forward, all easy charm. Marjorie sidestepped to let him through, her fingers twisting together at her waist once again.

“John Egan,” he said, reaching for Cessie's hand and shaking it firmly before pulling back, giving Marjorie a little squeeze on the shoulder as he did. “We’ve both heard an awful lot about you from Marge here, should’ve seen how quick she snatched up your letter last week. Damn near bit my head off when I got to the mailbox first.”

“John.” Marjorie said- more a squeak than a proper protest.

Gale shot John a look, and he put both hands up in mock surrender, grinning all the while.

Cessie had known plenty of men like John Egan, flyboys with that casual sort of arrogance. But there was something different about these two, the charm feeling more disarming than it did irritating.

Still, she raised a brow.

“You two always lurk in doorways, or is this just a special occasion?”

John barked.

“Oh, this is a very special occasion.”

Marjorie, dear thing, looked as though she might keel over.

Cessie gave her a moment, letting the silence settle for a beat before she offered her an out.

“Now,” she said, picking her bag back up and slinging over her shoulder- waving off Gale when he moved to take it off of her. “Are you going to show me where I’m staying, or are we just going to stand here and let your friends gawk to their hearts content?”

Marjorie flushed again, and John, damn him, laughed even louder.

Straightening, she smoothed the skirt of her dress with one hand, inhaling and smiling some on the breath back out.

“This way then,” she said, quiet and turned on her heel. John made another gesture of surrender, and Cessie couldn't see the look from Marjorie that must have prompted it but chuckled soft under her breath anyhow.

Gale’s voice broke the silence from somewhere deeper in the house when the front door shut behind them.

“Why don’t you two sit down?” he called out. “I’ll grab us some coffee.”

Cessie smiled, her gaze shifting toward him for a brief moment before it settled back on Marjorie, who seemed almost relieved by the distraction. She nodded, a bit more composed now, though her fingers still fluttered restlessly at her sides.

“Come on,” Cessie said gently, nudging her head towards the living room they'd just passed. "Promise I don't bite."

A moment of hesitation passed, brief but noticeable enough for Cessie to catch the way Marjorie’s fingers twitched, as though the urge to reach out was there, but she wasn’t sure whether she could.

Marjorie beat her to the couch, sitting on the edge, hands clasped tight between her knees. The way her gaze lingered on her, waiting with a quiet intensity, was so sweet that it made Cessie’s teeth ache.

When she settled beside her, she slipped her arm around Marjorie’s shoulders, instinct taking over before she could second-guess herself. Only holding back for a second, Marjorie gradually shifted closer.

Her frame was warm against her side in the exact way she'd laid awake in the Pacific imagining it would be, and this whole deal suddenly felt more real than it had out on the porch.

Marjorie’s fingers brushed against her hand where it had come to rest on her shoulder, and her chest tightened with something soft.

“You know,” Cessie said, tentatively tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear, fingers grazing her face, “you’re even prettier in person.”

The words were out before she could second-guess them, and she watched as Marjorie’s eyes widened just slightly.

“Thank you,” she said with a voice that faltered, flush climbing up her neck. She straightened up a little, her shoulders stiff, lip tucked back under her teeth for a beat before she found her words. “You’re, I'd say- quite the sight, yourself."

Cessie let out a soft chuckle.

“And you’re just as straight-forward as you were in your letters,” Marjorie continued, the words tumbling out quickly, like she was trying to keep up with her own thoughts.

There was something about the way she was playing with her hand idly while she talked that made Cessie’s breath hitch, and it crashed over her like a wave that she wanted to kiss her with a desperation she hadn't expected.

But she swallowed thick and held back.

It could wait.

They had time.

Before she could respond at all, John’s voice broke the moment.

“Am I interrupting you ladies?" he said from the mouth of the room, amusement in his tone.

Marjorie’s face flamed red.

“You’re alright Marge,” John said, though his grin said he wasn’t sorry at all, his eyes flicking between them with a glint. “Just entertaining is all.”

Cessie laughed under her breath, holding John's gaze as she tucked another strand of hair behind Marjorie's ear.

“Didn't come all this way just to give you dinner and a show, John Egan."

Marjorie shifted subtly, then, slowly leaned further into her, tucking her head gently onto Cessie's shoulder. For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then, almost hesitantly, Marjorie slid one arm around Cessie’s front, pulling herself just a little closer.

Her breath, soft and warm against Cessie’s neck, sent a ripple of something fond through her- something that spread slowly, from the place where their bodies met, all the way down to her toes.

Cessie brought her chin down to rest atop her head, and the gesture felt protective in a way she hadn't meant it to.

Though, she realized where the instinct had come from when she locked eyes with John as he crossed the room, his gaze just a touch more curious than she thought she liked.

“I’m thinkin’ Cessie,” John said lightly as he sat back in the recliner, gesturing between Marjorie and where Gale was still getting the coffee ready in the kitchen. “That our sweethearts here might have a type.”

#cessie harrison #off roading #mota #marjorie spencer #background clegan

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