#The Crooked Billet

[captainfairygodmother]

Not me patiently waiting for The Crooked Billets to announce more venues for After Agincourt because I'm not in the south so can't go to London nor Brighton:

[taylortruther]

same i feel like whether or not the place she saw he was at was the black dog doesn't change the meaning of the song. it could've been something dumb sounding like crooked billet or prospect of whitby (actual london pubs!) and she was like,,, well that's not gonna work, let's find something better 😂

AND I HOPE IT'S SHITTY AT THE PROSPECT OF WHITBY

[kvetchlandia]

Bill Brandt      Bartender at the Crooked Billet, Tower Hill, London     1939

[sanguinarysanguinity]

"And the work?" "Is purely nominal." "What do you call purely nominal?" "Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in the building, the whole time. If you leave, you forfeit your whole position forever. The will is very clear upon that point. You don't comply with the conditions if you budge from the office during that time." "It's only four hours a day, and I should not think of leaving," said I. "No excuse will avail," said Mr. Duncan Ross; "neither sickness nor business nor anything else. There you must stay, or you lose your billet."

Arthur Conan Doyle, “The Red-Head League,” The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

omg, this hits very differently in 2023 than it did pre-pandemic. The only requirement of this job -- and I do mean the only requirement -- is that you do it in the office. They don’t give a flying crap about what you actually do with your time, but you must, must -- and they are absolutely immovable on this point! -- come in and do it at the office.

And Sherlock Holmes’ assessment of all this? If your boss doesn’t let you work from home, he’s obviously a confidence-trickster and a crook!

[olvale]

It was crooked. The whole thing leaned to the left. Its rough crust was bleached and pale, bleeding. The front corner weighed down, buckling at the knuckle.

Once a place where the thrumming pulse of life could be felt underfoot, it was now a monument of time and the decay that sets in with neglect. One could say a life well lived, long and fruitful, from baying and cribbing to shouts and laughter. From quiet calls of game replaced by cacophonous thunderclaps and shrieks. It had seen more than most, even with its wax paper eyes, and felt the fingerprints of a thousand touches.

Inside, dust filtered down from the sky parlor, lit by dreary beams of light that forced themselves between ever widening gaps. Pallets, once full of bounty, lay broken and splintered, stained by the very beasts that emptied them and gnawed at their bones. Billets were covered with lumps of forage, yellow stalks now brittle and covered with brown time. Quilted love, crumpled and abandoned in the corners, called out for the touch of their guard whose fate they are oblivious.

But now, quiet. Now, shock.

To see the shell of it, injured but cared for only by the harsh rays of yellow sun and the blue ice of rain.

This and that lay camped about, a discarded skirt of fresh rust, covered by worn wads of ejected loam, invaded by the tendrils of nature it had once sought to hold at bay. The arena around, broken dirt blackened and burnt before, was now covered in grün though the scars beneath remained. A testament to violence.

It mocked. Laughed. Taunted.

It bit its thumb at desire and smote raw impetus spurred by empty bottles and crushing misery. It stood its ground against intruders, false and true, and waited.

Waiting... Waiting for life. Waiting for sorrow. Waiting for acceptance.

A famous prompt: Describe a barn as seen by a man whose son has just been killed in a war. Do not mention the son, or war, or death. Do not mention the man who does the seeing.

[qudachuk]

This stroll past beach huts, wartime ruins and wildfowl cuts through Southend and ends in a 16th-century boozerWhy is the Essex coast so underrated? Close to London, and arguably as pretty as any other, is it because there’s something...

[lookitcookit]

On cabbages and.......

The ornamental cabbage is a strange concept.  According to James Alexander-Sinclair, it’s easy to be sniffy about them. It is quite a strange concept; “an odd, Frankensteinish amalgam of vegetable and bedding plant.” They are edible but most people prefer to look at them.

The ones in the picture were at an Oxfordshire pub called The Crooked Billet in the village of Stoke Row near Henley. We’d gone for a walk in the countryside with friends. The weather was decidedly drizzly but they were up for the planned morning activity, so we didn’t complain and walked through fields, mulchy leaves and woodland. I have to say that June would have been better than January for the outdoors part of our get together, but never mind, after the healthy ramble, we were more than ready for the welcoming log fire and interesting menu.

I am always looking out for vegetarian-friendly restaurants and this one, like Allora that I wrote about last week, has a menu with many items that non meat eaters would enjoy.  I’m not a vegetarian, but for religious reasons I don’t eat meat that is not kosher, so it’s always good to be offered a menu that has several inspiring vegetarian suggestions as well as two or three fish choices.

The Crooked Billet has a 2-course menu at £16.95 -  great value for us Londoners who are used to far higher prices. It included cured salmon with dill cream cheese and an excellent onion tart baked with local Nettlebed cheese and a tomato compote. For main courses there was sea bass with pureed artichoke, fennel and crispy kale or a John Dory fillet with harissa and chargrilled Mediterranean vegetables. (My one criticism is that the vegetable was a sadly undercooked aubergine). Wild mushrooms made an appearance in two dishes: a starter of mozzarella risotto cakes with rocket and a filo ‘tart’ filled with spinach cream. The robustly flavoured tart came with roasted salsify and pearl barley.

We were too full for dessert (the others at the table having chosen a generous bowl of fish soup with rouille etc. followed by slow braised venison or a duck leg with red cabbage and prune jus.)

However, we managed to share an excelled apple and almond Bakewell tart. This can be a slightly heavy pastry based cake, but here it was moist and warm, offset by a cool raspberry sorbet.

If, as we were, you are impressed by the cooking, you can even join a class with the chef and produce your own dinner at the end of it.  To find out more, click here.

[briefninjastudent]

Early twentieth century postcard of The Crooked Billet inn at the Wimbledon Village entryway to Wimbledon Common.

Street scene in Wimbledon, London, England, UK

British vintage postcard

[workingforitallthetime]

GASP you must tell us your thoughts on succubus!kent

i did not have any thoughts when i tossed off that tag, but now that you ask, i absolutely love the idea of succubus!kent appearing in owen's dreams to confuse and beguile him. owen keeps furtively changing the sheets in his billet room and showing up at practice a little dazed and out of it.

briss smacks him on the shinpads, like, "wake the fuck up!" and owen tries to explain that he's having all this crazy dream sex with a skinny demon with a crooked mouth who's actually kind of bossy and rude but somehow that's hot? briss does not view this as a problem. after doing a little internet research, briss lights a few candles and scratches a charcoal circle on the floor and tries to attract his own succubus. he is successful beyond his wildest dreams--or rather, in his wildest dreams--when bords shows up that night.

covid happens and the season is canceled and owen and brendan are very disappointed to discover that the succubi were apparently a chicago phenomenon that did not follow them home to mississauga and manhattan beach. but then they arrive on campus in the fall, and i envision a scene where they walk into yost and somebody rockets a slapshot off the glass and the impact echoes under owen's ribcage right at the moment when kent takes off his helmet and shakes out his flow.

[the-house-of-nott]

Nott Another Love Story - Masterlist

Thank you to everyone who participated in Nott Another Love Story - a Theo Nott Valentines themed fest! You can view the entire collection here or check out all of the amazing stories below. Also a huge thank you to @magicaltraveler3 and @beautyberrywrites for spearheading this fest and helping to make it a reality!

Billet Doux by Dart

If this fic had a Stealth Prompt, it would be: Theo learns not to bet against Harry’s obliviousness the hard way.

48 Notts by Sheryl_Holmes

“Granger, you can’t be serious. I’m tipsy,” (understatement), “and we are in the middle of a tropical storm, hundreds of miles from the shore. If I try to Apparate now, I may just splinch myself in half.”

She splashed her hands about, at a loss. “Then do it! Have St. Mungo’s grow back the bits you leave behind, but get out of my bathroom!”

The ever-present amiable quality to Nott’s face seemed to dim into the ghost of hurt. “You don’t really hate me that much, do you?”

Hermione blinked. “I don’t—I don’t hate you, Nott, I’m just—” I’m just in the bath, naked, and you’re here without invitation, this is a complete surprise, I don’t want to discuss my breakup with Ron, and, as you can see, my response here is perfectly reasonable. This is what she intended to say. What came out, instead, was: “Are you wearing my shirt?”

Lost for His Smile by Xyxo_The_Ghost

"A beautiful, crooked teeth, canines biting the bottom lip, cheeks full of it and scar thinning kind of smile."

An Experiment Gone Awry by Mayhoa

When Theodore Nott turns twenty seven he becomes obsessed with finding his soulmate.

Broken Fairytale by Amarillis39

“Since we’re both here as moral support, at least tell me I’m pretty,” Potter laughed and batted his eyelashes.

“You are. Very pretty actually,” Theo said, chuckling.

“See? It wasn’t so bad,” Potter cooed with a smile and Theo froze. His body stiffened and the sharp inhale scorched his throat as those few simple words burned into his consciousness.

In Sanguine by Sheryl_Holmes

Harry grieves. A secret Valentine is leaving him unorthodox gifts. A dark wizard evades his investigation. The dead haunt him. And Theodore Nott has become Harry’s lodestone. But, if there is anything that Harry has learned the past four months, it’s that associating with Aurors only ever pays in blood.

“Did you think your death would not have haunted me, too, Theo?”

He replied in a soft voice, “I wouldn’t know whether I haunt you or not, Harry.”

The Tale-Tell Heart Confetti by Dart

Harry has a severe case of accidental child acquisition.

Catch Me if You Can by starnobella

It's the age-old story of cat and mouse, but who is the cat... and who is the mouse?

The mortifying ordeal of falling in love with your entire secret study group by tinystreetlamp

An Arithmancy group project in third year turned into a friendship turned into the Double Date of Disaster in eighth year.

Ghosting Season by saveourskinship

“You need a Ghosting Season.”

“I know I’ll regret this,” Heather began, “but what on God’s polluted Earth is a Ghosting Season?”

“Oh, I have one every year. Terribly efficient,” Daphne replied with a shrug, “it’s when you halt all contact with any undesirables you are dating. You just drop off the face of the planet and never see or speak to them ever again.”

Dating the Carrow twins is not turning out to be all lollipops and flip-flops for Theo and Hermione but what's one to do when your girlfriend refuses to acknowledge when you've broken up with them?

Daphne has just the thing: A new season for an old holiday.

Dangerous Way to Live by akorah

Hermione Granger and Theo Nott partner up in sixth year to brew a finicky truth serum. While the potion appears to work on them, it fails to work on anyone else. In the aftermath of the war, Theo learns why he and Hermione were susceptible to the vapours when no one else was.

That’s Another Story by magical_traveler

On her first Valentine's Day single, Hermione runs into an unlikely option for some much needed relief.

Cheesy First Dates by articcat621

Theo works up the courage to ask Hermione on a date.

Locked In by emilyinwonderland

He stepped up beside her, slipping his hands into his pockets. “I’ve read about these love tropes.”

“Love tropes?”

“Yes. You’ll see them in romance folktales, but some ancient practices involved casting the runes to generate an environment for falling in love. We must have tripped the room somehow to activate it.”

The Lovers by CalypsoTemplete

It started with a note and ended here: the two of you huddled together in a lumpy bed in a frigid motel room in a backwater town. Far away from the castle you used to call home. Draco’s hand wavers just over yours, and there’s a lot unsaid and a lot that could go wrong, but you silently beg him to close the distance.

*

A story about schoolyard notes and the confessions that sneak through the lines.

Willing to go up or down art by digthewriter

"Trapped in an elevator."

The Right Time by MzKinzy

Hermione really doesn't want another fuckboy.

Theo is nervous and wondering why he's agreed to this. 

*My prompt was blind date, but then I threw in a "the one that got away" vibe too.

The Truth of the Matter by xxDustNight88

Theo has a bit too much to drink and reveals exactly how he feels about Hermione.

Varig Kjaerlighet by mytimeconsumingsidehobby

Theo joins his girlfriend on a nice little Valentine's Day holiday. To Svalbard.

Galentines Improved by Willowfairy

Theo finds out his girlfriend is at a club that brews Amortentia. What if she smells someone who isn't him? He'll do whatever it takes to keep her, including crashing Galentines Day.

[federer7]

Customers at the Crooked Billet, Tower Hill, London, 1939

Photo: Bill Brandt

[mister-higgs]

“PEDESTRIAN no.2” stickers Crooked Billet Yard

“Squarehead PEDESTRIAN” pasteup Dereham Street

“PEDESTRIAN no.4” & “StarBurst PEDESTRIAN” pasteup Dereham Street

[withinthewalls]

Walk of the Roses - Saturday 31st July 2021

Within the Walls presents a 14 mile Cross Country Pub Crawl visiting 5 rural Pubs and The Towton Battlefield; the site of the most bloodiest battle in English history. Meeting at 12:20pm at the bus stop in front of Cawood Castle Gatehouse and walking to The Fenton Flyer at Church Fenton, The Boot & Shoe at Barkston Ash, The Rockingham Arms at Towton, The Greyhound at Saxton and finishing at The Crooked Billet for food around 8:15pm. Booking recommended. Cawood is easily accessed via the No.42 bus from York for the meeting point. The bus leaves from Piccadilly at 11:45am. You must arrange your own transport. Download the route map from our main website here.

RSVP to the Facebook Event here.

[leonagraham]

Nice ride up to @crookedbillet on the @hondaukmotorcycles #nc750x Easiest bike I've used in my 3 year biking life. Just hassle free to ride, park and store stuff. The petrol tank is at the back meaning the front is for storage. I keep my bag in there. So much easier and quicker. It's a #DCT #dualclutchtransmission meaning I can use it in auto or manual mode. I have it in sports auto mode. Its actually life changing for me! I am not a fan of manual gears anymore, especially in London. Plus there is no clutch lever on the left foot... I have bad knees and every gear change was hurting 😭. I am sharing that in case you have similar issues, and to say there is a bike for everyone! 👍 #motorcycle #hondamotorcycles #hondabike #honda #biker #bikerchick #hondalove #motorbike #dj #djbiker #bikerdj🎧 #motorcyclesofinstagram #motolife #redmotorcycle #absoluteradio #bikersofinstagram #bikergirlsofinstagram (at Crooked Billet, Wimbledon) https://www.instagram.com/p/CEU4wj3p1Cp/?igshid=1o80klhbw836s

[taraross-1787]

This Day in History: The Battle of Crooked Billet

On this day in 1778, American militia are handily defeated at the Battle of Crooked Billet. It was the latest in a string of disasters for American Brigadier General John Lacey.

Our founding generation overcame quite a lot, didn’t it?

The winter of 1777-78 was a generally hard one. George Washington’s army was enduring hardship at Valley Forge, but so was local Pennsylvania militia. These problems worsened when their commander requested a leave of absence to go home. The Supreme Executive Council of Pennsylvania appointed Lacey to take his place.

Lacey wasn’t so sure he wanted the job. He’d been trying to retire.

To his credit, Lacey was enough of a Patriot to accept the assignment. It had to have been especially tough for him to make this decision. He was a Quaker who had been expelled from the movement because of his decision to fight. He was also young and maybe a bit too inexperienced for the task that he’d been given. He was only 25 years old.

Washington soon wrote Lacey, outlining the parameters of his responsibilities. “Protecting the Inhabitants is one of the ends designed,” Washington wrote, “and preventing supplies and intercourse with the Enemy is the other.”

Lacey failed at both objectives. But what positive thing did Washington later say of failures such as these? The story concludes at the link in the comments.

[smol-and-grumpy]

Dear Dean (Chapter 13)

Re-post

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (Jamie Blum)

WC: 2.6k

Summary: After taking Saint Lo, by sheer dumb luck, Lieutenant Dean Winchester from the 29th Infantry Division, Baker Company, received a truckload of replacements for his platoon that was falling apart. Little did he know, that one recruit would change his life forever.

Chapter Warnings: Minor Character death, a lot of angst, fluff

SERIES MASTERLIST

September 9th, 1944

Bambi fell asleep in Dean’s arms, and he couldn’t bring himself to wake her up. He watched her sleep and felt her warm cheek against his. He only woke her up at the very last second, so he could savor the time. She punched him in his arm because he let her sleep so long. She knew that he had to go to see Castiel and cuddling was not a valid reason to be late to a meeting.

So, Dean was running late.

It was Twenty-Three-Oh-Seven, and Dean guessed that Cas would let it slide. They were pulled off the front line so he was going easy on his platoons, and Dean hoped that he would go easy on him, too.

When he reached Cas’ office, Dean knocked and waited. It was an office Cas shared with the other CO’s of Able and Fox companies, and Dean didn’t want to just barge in unannounced, even though Cas was probably impatiently waiting for him.

“Lieutenant Winchester. Permission to enter, sir!” Dean called out still from the outside.

“Permission granted.” Cas shouted from the other side.

Dean pushed the door open. The office was surprisingly empty. There were three desks with an unfinished sand table in the middle of all the other tables.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Dean closed the door behind him and walked into the room.

“At ease, Dean.”

“Oh, good. Cause I’m too tired for that crap right now.”

Cas chuckled light heartedly. A good sign, Dean thought.

“What’s wrong, why am I alone?” Dean asked and Cas pointed to a chair for him to sit down. “Is it because of the reassignment of Bambi?”

Cas still didn’t say anything. He took out a cigarette from the tin that laid on his paper scattered desk and offered Dean one. Dean thanked him, but didn’t take one. “Still not smoking, Cas.”

“Oh, right. I forgot.” Castiel lit up his and took a deep drag of the cigarette.

“Shit, Dean,” Cas started to say, the hand with the cigarette in between his fingers went up to his nose and Cas squeezed at the bridge. “The reassignment, is not going to happen.”

“What do you mean?” Dean leaned back in his chair with a frown on his face. He wasn’t sure yet if he should be happy or sad about it.

Cas took another drag of his cigarette, blowing smoke up in the air. “Bambi’s not going anywhere. He’s going home.”

“Excuse me, what?” Dean couldn’t sit any longer, he stood up, dragging the chair across the surface of the floor, the noise of it made the hair on Dean’s neck stand up.

“Dean, listen.” And now Dean thought that Cas was torturing him deliberately by not saying what the fuck was going on. “Blum’s brother. Jim?”

“Yeah, Jim, I met him.” Dean thought back to the paratrooper he met in Saint Lo. Thought back to the man Bambi felt comfortable enough to hug in front of him. A man who loved his sister and had a hard time parting from her. “A fine man. What’s with Jim?” Dean’s heart started to beat out of his chest. Please, no. Don’t say it, Cas. Don’t fucking say it.

“I’ve heard he’d been there in Saint Lo. He got shipped off to Cherbourg to join his company, but he never made it out of Cherbourg, Dean. I don’t know why it took them so long to get the information to us.”

“Shit.” Dean opted to sit back down, holding his head in his hand as he rubbed at his face.

“I’m sorry. I just got the news before dinner. I didn’t want to ruin the mood.”

Dean didn’t know what to say to that. Should he fucking thank Cas? He knew that it wasn’t Cas’ fault, but he didn’t know who he should direct the anger to. At last he asked, “What does that mean for Bambi?”

“Private Jamie Blum will be sent home. He’s going back to England tomorrow and they will hand him a form. He’ll be deemed 4-G.” Cas said, holding up a paper that said what it meant because for the love of god, Dean didn’t know what Cas was talking about. He just kept looking at Cas puzzled until he read it out to him. “4-G: Registrant exempted from service because of the death of a parent or sibling while serving in the Armed forces or whose parent or sibling has Prisoner of War or Missing In Action status.”

Dean cleared his throat, there were so many things going through his mind.

“Do you want to tell him or should I?” Castiel asked him and Dean replied with a face.

“I’ll tell him. When does he has to leave?”

“Oh-Nine-Hundred-Hours tomorrow morning. They’ll cross the channel with the wounded and he can hop on.”

“Fuck. He’ll need time to say goodbye. You know how close my platoon is, Cas.”

“I know. I exempt your platoon from all things until that time tomorrow. I’m sorry. Tell him that, alright?” Cas put a hand on Dean’s shoulder in sympathy.

***

Dean jogged back to the building where his platoon was billeted, taking the stairs, three at a time. He peeked inside the room, the men were still drinking and laughing, playing poker on their bunk beds. When they notice him, the laughter died down and they stood at attention.

“As you were.” Dean said, before his gaze found Bambi’s. “I’ve been to see the CO..uh.. Bambi, I need to talk to you.”

She hopped off her bed and joined Dean outside. “What is it? Is it about my reassignment?”

Dean didn’t know how he should say it. So, he didn’t. Not then. He told Bambi to wait for him outside and went back into the room to tell it to his men first. So that they would know what happened.

There was no more laughter. Not even when Dean told them that they could sleep in ‘til Oh-Nine-Hundred.

“Will we see him before he leaves, Lieutenant?” Tran asked, a little teary eyed.

“Of course. I..just…we… need to clear things, and I don’t know if he’ll return tonight. Logistics, you know, but he’ll be here to pack his things tomorrow.”

“Alright. Good night, Lieutenant.” Harvelle said, trying to keep the spirit up as he suggested for the others to play another game. it wasn’t well received, but the men played along, trying to distract themselves.

He joined Bambi in the cool night, and they walk to the open field with Dean not saying a word. She didn’t dare to ask him what was wrong. They sat down underneath a tree and Dean looked up at the stars. it was a clear night, a cold one, too.

“Dean, would you please tell me what’s going on?” She turned to face him.

Dean rubbed at his face again and fuck, he tried to form words in his brain, but he couldn’t. “Shit, Bambi,” He started to say but had to pause to swallow down the lump that had built up in his throat. “You’re not going to be reassigned.” He could see her frown at him. “You’re going home.”

“I’m what?” Her voice was shaky.

“Jim,” Dean said and fuck, why was it so hard to say? “He..uh.. he fell. In Cherbourg. They couldn’t get the news to us sooner. Shit, Jamie, I’m so fucking sorry.”

She didn’t look at Dean anymore. She looked away and then she took off. She stood up and walked into the open field. Dean stood up slowly, watching her go. He was confused. He didn’t know if he should follow her or stay behind. He just didn’t know anything anymore.

He watched her collapse, falling down to her knees as she started to sob, and he rushed to her. He took a knee and held her up, making her look into his eyes. The sound of her voice broke his heart, and Dean had to bite back his own tears.

“No no no.” She mumbled as she whined. Dean pulled her into his embrace. He let her cry into his chest as he stroke her head and he couldn’t do anything more than say sorry to her over and over again.

“Jimmy.” Jamie kept on crying, but she let Dean haul her up and walk her back to the big tree. They were alone in the open, but Dean still needed to have some kind of privacy. He positioned her between his legs and laid her face on his chest as he leaned against the tree. She was still crying; her moans muffled by his chest.

He didn’t interrupt her. Instead he let her cry her heart out. Dean thought that it was long overdue, but on the other hand, what did he know? He wasn’t really the poster boy for feelings.

When her sobbing died down, Dean tried to cheer her up a little. He fished out the flask from his pants and to his surprise, Jamie took it and drank it all up. He smirked a little, because he could have used a damn drink himself. She handed it back to him, her eyes all puffed up red and her nose was swollen. Dean was sure that he had tears and snot stains on his combat jacket, but he couldn’t care about that.

Dean sat there, not saying a word. He wanted her to speak when she was ready.

After a while, Bambi did speak.

“What now?”

Dean cleared his throat, because what he was going to say then, probably devastated him more than her. “Uh.. you’re going back to England. They will deem you 4-G and then you’re on the next ship home.”

“Shit.” She muttered under her breath.

“Yeah.”

“What if I don’t wanna go home? What if I wanted to stay with the only brothers I still have left?”

“Bambi, you can’t stay. They will find you and haul your ass back, no matter what.”

“Shit.”

Yeah, there was no other word for it, Dean knew.

“That’s it, huh? I won’t see you anymore?” A new drop of tear streaked down her face and Dean brushed it away with his thumb.

“Shhh.. don’t say that.” Dean pulled her closer, placing a kiss on her forehead. “I’m still going to go back home. Not with you but to you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.” He held her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her, and he wished that he wouldn’t have to let her go. “At least one of us will definitely get out of here alive.”

“Shut up. You promised.” She rammed her elbow into Dean’s rib, making him flinch. “When am I going?”

She had her face buried back deep in the crook of his neck and he felt her breathing against his skin.

“Tomorrow. Oh-Nine-Hundred.”

“Shit.”

“We can stay here a little longer.” Dean moved further down, laying himself in the grass and spread out his arm for her to crawl into.

“I’d like that.” She said, laying her head on his shoulder and put an arm across his chest. Her nose brushed against his jawline before she nuzzled back into the crook of his neck. He loved that. Loved that the place was made just for her to fit into.

They stayed until dawn and Dean walked her back to her billet. She wanted to have time to say goodbye to her family, and Dean understood that. He knew that he couldn’t keep her to himself. He had to share with his men, but that was okay.

Before she went in, Dean pulled her in for a bruising kiss. One that he wished would never end and she parted her lips, letting his tongue explore the familiarity of her mouth. Dean didn’t even know that he cried into he kiss, but again, so did she. Their faces were wet when they parted and they chuckled a little. “I’ll be outside when you get out. Go get some shut eye too.”

She nodded at him, smiling brightly before she went in.

***

It was Oh-Eight-Hundred when his whole platoon came out. Dean was sitting outside on the steps, waiting for them to come out. He’d been waiting for what seemed like forever. In fact, he didn’t even go back to his room. He wrote up reports for Cas, just anything that would occupy his mind. Now he was patiently waiting and he knew that they needed to say goodbye. Saying goodbye was a rare thing to do and his men didn’t get to say that a lot.

He stood up from the steps, as Bambi walked out with a crowd of men.

“We’re going for coffee and breakfast. Would you like to join us?” She’d asked him and yeah, coffee sounded about right. Dean didn’t know if his stomach could hold down a meal, though.

The truck was there on time, and they all stood in front of it as Bambi loaded up her things into the bed of the truck. She stood before Dean then, and he wanted so much to hug her, but he was already fighting with his tears at it was. Bambi saluted him one last time, a stupid grin on her face like the first time they met and he echoed her salute, so did his whole platoon.

She winked at them as she sat herself on the passenger seat, and they all watched her drive off.

To say that the moral was at the lowest since they started their mission into Normandy was an understatement.

Still, things needed to be done and a war needed to be won, and the men of 1st platoon of Baker company were slowly getting back into swings.

Dear Jamie,

You’ll probably get this letter when you arrive home. I just wanted to say - since there will probably be nobody around to say it to you - welcome home.

I hope your journey was bearable. Did you get seasick? Because I did. But also we were packed like sardines on the way over. I guess the way back is a little less stressful.

To tell you the truth, I don’t even know how I should write this letter as you’re still here. At the moment, I’m waiting for you outside on the steps. You are taking your sweet time saying goodbye inside. I want to scream for you to hurry up, because even though I just saw you a couple of hours ago, I’m jealous that they are going to spend the rest of the morning with you. Call me crazy, but that’s just the way it is.

God, I already miss you. You are not gone yet, but I already miss you.

I don’t wanna do this no more, Bambi. I wanna go home with you, but since that’s not possible, I’m gonna make good on my promise and go back home to you. One day, when this is all over, I’ll be standing on your porch and you’d say “welcome home” to me. Please say it, because then I’d feel like I arrived. Your arms will be my home. Your smile will be my home. You will be my home.

I always thought that we’d go home together and now that you’re gone, I don’t know what to do with myself anymore. I have nobody to confide in no more. In front of my men, I have to be tough and strict, but you and I both know full well that I’m not as tough as I look (don’t ever tell Sam that, you hear me).

Well, I don’t know what I should write anymore. I literally just saw you and will see you hopefully soon whenever you decide to walk out of that damn building. Hurry up!

I miss you so fucking much already. And I’ll see you soon. You just sit tight and wait for me, alright?

So, yeah, welcome home, Sweetheart.

Yours, Dean

CHAPTER 14