#also I really really think i did good with egan and cleven's voices here

[mercurygray]

Still working on the 'rules' of this end of the universe, but I think we're getting a good start on The Darkening Sky: MOTA.

"Looks like we've got a couple of ladies around," Gale said, lightly curious as a couple of the ground crews zipped by in jeeps, all chapped faces and pigtails.

"Lousy with 'em," Egan reported, sounding none too pleased about it. "Air crew, ground crew, weatherwomen. I wish that Warren woman had fucking stayed home."

"You know she's from Wyoming?" Gale said, mostly to DeMarco. "Her grandfather was the state governor."

"I don't care if he was the goddamn president of the United States," Egan interjected angrily. "Having women over here ain't helping us do shit."

"What's this - John Egan has a bad opinion of the fairer sex?" Gale could only smile. "John, has someone hurt you since I've seen you last?"

"No," Egan said, though he still sounded mighty sore about it. "We've got a lady looey running the control tower who's a goddamn pain in my ass."

Gale exchanged a look with DeMarco and raised his eyebrows, and DeMarco grinned back. Oh, so that's how it is.

Egan began to drive them back, giving them the tour as they went - runway, taxiway, hard stands - and finally the control tower, checkerboarded against the sky. Egan parked the jeep and took the stairs two at a time up to the observation level. There were four women, stationed inside the glasshouse, each of them wearing headsets and watching the runway from their stations. The single woman standing turned around and glimpsed the three of them through the glass, her neutral face deepening into a frown before she excused herself and stepped outside to the tower's observation deck. (She looked like she was ready to run interference, the way she was standing between Egan and the door.)

But Egan, it seemed, was ready, his hands already up, "Don't shoot, I'm just giving the new fellows a tour. Buck, Ben, this Lieutenant Callaway, our Control Officer. Lieutenant Callaway, this is Major Gale Cleven, and Captain Benny DeMarco."

The lieutenant nodded, keeping her arms firmly crossed over her chest. She was around their age, with dark hair pulled back into a tight roll and was wearing trousers - practical, probably, for the wind they got up here. She had a way of standing that told Buck that she was not in the business of being easily moved - and staring down John with an expression that could only mean that the pain in the ass feeling was mutual. "Sir."

"Does Lieutenant Callaway have a first name, or do you just not feel like being neighborly with it?" Gale asked, trying to be pleasant, looking between the two of them with faint but growing interest.

"It's Cordelia, but I think Lieutenant will be just fine, for now, Major."

Gale nodded, filing that away with John's earlier remarks. "Heard and acknowledged, Lieutenant. Nice to put a face with a voice after the landing. Looking forward to working with you."

Callaway nodded, and returned to her post, though she continued glancing over her shoulder until she was convinced they were all really leaving.

"She seems nice," DeMarco ventured, glancing again at Cleven as they headed down the stairs and back to Egan's jeep.

Egan scoffed. "Nice, ha. She's a goddamn iceberg. Had me written up for handing out a few compliments to her crew one night - said I was unprofessional, and a threat to group morale."

"The way you go through girls, Bucky, you would be," DeMarco said with a grin. "They take stuff like that personally, you know."

Egan rolled his eyes. "Remind me why the hell I'm friends with you jokers?" He looked at the two of them and scowled at two very knowledgeable smiles. "Oh, get out of my jeep. You're walking back." He picked up Gale's flight bag and pitched it out of the front seat, giving DeMarco just enough time to grab his before he'd shifted the jeep into gear and roared off on his own.

"He'll be fine in an hour," Gale predicted, hefting his flight bag back over his shoulder so that he and Benny could continue their long walk back down the airfield towards the dispersal huts and crew quarters.

DeMarco watched the jeep disappear down the runway and scoffed. "So how long do you think he's wanted to fuck her?"

Gale grinned, entertained that it was that obvious to someone else, too. "Since the minute they met, I think." And I get the sense she's not the kind to fall for easy charm.

--

If you liked meeting Cord, you'll love reading more about 'that Warren woman' who is currently in my Band of Brothers fanfic The Darkening Sky. You can read the whole thing on AO3.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

#masters of the air#buckycrosby#PLEASE GOD (gayle) I NEED THE MORNING AFTER I NEED TO SWEET CHAOS I NEED CROSBY HAPPILY DEALING WITH HAVING A VERY TALL VERY HANDSOME BF#WITH PACIFIC WIDE SHOULDERS AND BIG HANDS AND BIGGER HUGS THAT HE DISAPPEARS INTO ALL THE TIME AND#im just thinking about that one photoshoot clip with anto cal n austin when callum just hugs anto to his chest like hand to god anto look#blissed out#mota#harry crosby#bubbles payne#bucky egan#buck cleven

[Well, you asked nicely, and also, I want to write more Harry. It's the anxiety and the confidence. It intrigues me.]

Harry wakes up the next day and stretches and yawns. He sits up halfway and freezes. "Oh, shit." 

"Morning!" Bubbles says. He's sitting on his rack, elbows on his knees with his chin on his hands, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Bubbles…did I…"

"Sit in Major Egan's lap, play with his hair, kiss him, and then let him bring you back here to tuck into bed?"

"Yeah."

"All while narrating most of it?"

Harry breathes a sigh of relief. "Only most of it?"

"Well, he was kissing you at one point, so you couldn't."

"Oh, fuck," Harry says. Dropping his head into his hands. "Why did I do that?"

"I think it's probably because you've had a crush since the first time you saw him, and I talked you into a third martini."

Harry stares at Bubbles. "How could you do this to me?"

Bubbles shrugs, unconcerned. "It wasn't just me. Buck was in on it, too."

Harry flops back onto his rack, then freezes. "Wait. What?"

Bubbles stands and leans over so Harry can see his face. "The handsomest man in the whole damn army likes you back, Croz. Just like I've been saying."

Another memory from last night comes to Harry. He feels himself blush. "Um, we cuddled," he says. "And then he kissed my forehead and said he'd wait for me to walk to the mess for breakfast."

Bubbles laughs. He steps back half a second before Harry jerks upright, suddenly in a frenzy to get dressed. "Croz!"

"I have to get dressed," Harry says. "I have to–I can't miss–"

"Croz!" Bubbles grabs Crosby's elbow to make him stand still. His grin is even larger than when Crosby woke up. "He's outside. He's been outside for ten minutes."

"What?" Harry hisses. He covers his mouth with his hand. "What if he heard everything?"

"I did!" Bucky calls from outside. "These walls don't muffle shit!"

Harry drops to his rack, one leg in his trousers. "Bubbles, mercy kill me."

"Bubbles, belay that order!" Bucky shouts and steps into the barracks. Harry closes his eyes and curls into himself. He listens to Bucky walk closer, and then he feels Bucky sit on the rack next to him. 

"Hey," Bucky says, voice soft and warm. His mouth is just barely touching Harry's ear. "I brought you coffee. Wasn't sure how that third martini hits in the morning."

Harry cracks open his eyes. Bucky has a coffee cup in hand, holding it out to him. "It…um, it doesn't, really. But thanks."

"I'll meet you at breakfast," Bubbles says to Harry. 

"Buck's probably already there," Bucky says. "Save us a couple seats."

"Will do," Bubbles says and leaves them alone.

Crosby takes a long drink of coffee and then holds the cup awkwardly until Bucky plucks it out of his hand. 

"Finish getting yourself together," Bucky says. "I can step outside again, if you want."

"Um. Yeah. Would you? Could you?"

"Sure," Bucky says. He gives Harry a bright grin. He stands and walks out of the barracks. 

Harry stares down at his trousers, still only half-on. "Holy shit," he whispers, shaking his leg to untangle his trousers. "Holy shit," he whispers again as he pulls on a fresh blouse and does up his tie. "Holy shit," he whispers again as he gets his shoes on and then quickly combs his hair. 

When he steps outside, Bucky's leaning against the wall looking tall and handsome and happy. He steps forward and pauses. "Can I kiss you good morning?" he asks. "You okay with that?"

"Uh-huh," Harry says, unable to say anything else with Bucky looking at him like that, the early morning light bringing out his freckles. 

Bucky kisses his cheek, then his mouth, one hand cupping Harry's face. When he pulls away, he's smiling even more than he was, and he rubs his thumb on Harry's bottom lip. "Even better than last night," he says. 

Harry laughs and feels himself blush. Bucky looks pleased as he leans in and kisses him again, quicker this time, but just as warm. "I, um, guess you know I've got a crush now, huh?" he asks.

Bucky chuckles and turns towards the mess hall. He slides his arm around Harry's waist, pulling him in against his side. His hand feels so large and so right as he settles it on Harry's hip. "Well, secret's out on my end, too. So, how about we try it out, huh? You and me?"

"Yeah," Harry says, "That's um…that's very doable."

Bucky squeezes his hip and hands Harry his coffee back. "I stole a drink or two. Hope you don't mind."

"You majors think you can do anything," Harry says, his confidence back with Bucky so obviously pleased about things. 

"Oh, give me a few days," Bucky says, "I'll show you what I can really do."

Harry blushes at the innuendo but turns his face into the kiss Bucky presses to his cheek. "Oh, get a fourth martini in me, and I'll surprise you," he replies, and Bucky's laugh makes Harry shiver in the best way. 

Ooh prompts okay - haven't seen this one yet so something on Harry/Bucky, please? I've always watched their interaction in the medical wing with heart eyes - Just thought Croz was really cute all flustered with Bucky like that, and I just think these two would be absolutely adorable.

The thing is, Crosby figures, everyone has a little crush on Bucky. It's not like it's difficult. He's friendly. He's sweet. He's smart. He's very tall and has wide shoulders and huge hands.

"And he sings better than you," Bubbles says.

"That, too," Crosby replies, two sips shy of finishing his third martini. He should not have ordered a third martini. He gets motor-mouthed and horny on his third martini.

"Yeah, I know, you say that every third martini," Bubbles says.

"Am I talking out loud?" Crosby asks.

"Oh, yeah," Bubbles says.

Well, that's no good. Now it's possible Bucky's heard him say that he thinks he's got a crush on him. Because Bucky's sitting across the table and smiling at him.

"Hey, Croz, come here a sec," Bucky says.

"Sure," Crosby replies. He finishes his drink and walks over to Bucky. There's no place to sit.

"Sure there is," Bucky says, leaning back in his chair and patting his lap. "Plenty of room."

"You're a whore," Buck says like he's reading the windspeed outside.

"Me?" Crosby asks.

"No," Buck replies. "Your chair."

"Oh, I should sit," Crosby says and does so right on Bucky's lap. "Oh, hi, Bucky."

"Hey, Croz."

This close, Crosby can smell Bucky's cologne and see his curls coming loose from the Brylcreem.

"Yeah, those little side ones do that," Bucky says. "Smooth 'em back, will you?"

"This is obscene," Buck says. "Bubbles, you wanna get another round?"

"Naw, it's better if I'm here to remember for posterity. Croz gets a little fuzzy after three martinis."

Crosby wants to say he does not--

"You do, too."

But he's combing the little curls over Bucky's ears, and it feels really nice.

"Yeah, it does," Bucky says. One of his hands curls on Crosby's hip, and the other he cups on Crosby's cheek. "Hey, can I give you a kiss?"

"Sure," Crosby replies because why wouldn't he agree.

"I can think of several reasons," Buck says as he comes back from the bar.

"Huh?" Crosby asks, but then Bucky's got his face in both hands and he's kissing him, and it's...

"Did he really try to keep narrating that?" Buck asks, looking at Bubbles.

"Oh, yeah, does it all the time."

Buck glances back at Bucky and Crosby. Crosby's still petting the curls by Bucky's ears, and Bucky's got both hands on Crosby's waist now. "Is he gonna remember this happened?"

"Most of it," Bubbles says. "He gets fuzzy, like I said, but it's not too bad. He might not mention it happened, though, if he decides he embarrassed himself."

Buck shakes his head. "Chances of that?"

"High," Bubbles says, and he and Buck share a grin.

Bucky pulls away from Crosby's mouth and looks at Bubbles. "He gonna think that if he wakes up next to me tomorrow?"

"Honestly? Maybe. You gotta catch him before he thinks too much about it. So...five minutes after he's up?"

Bucky wrinkles his nose. Crosby whispers something in his ear. "Just a second," he says to Crosby, kissing his cheek. "What if I walk up to him whenever I roll out of bed tomorrow and just plant another one on him?"

"That'd work, but he's gonna blush."

Bucky grins. "Oh, he's cute when he blushes."

Buck sighs and slouches against his chair. "You're shameless," he says to Bucky.

"Yeah, and look where it got me," Bucky replies, waving a hand at Crosby. "Lap full of the smartest guy in the room."

Buck glances at Bubbles. "You're going to let him insult you like that?"

Bubbles shrugs. "Not really an insult when it's true."

Buck finally cracks, laughing quietly and leaning over so he and Bubbles can tap bottles. "Good point."

"I am gonna pour this pretty thing into bed," Bucky says, standing up and putting Crosby on his feet. "Don't worry, Bubbles, I won't follow after him."

"I don't really believe you," Bubbles replies.

"That's a good instinct," Buck says.

Bucky waves at them both and holds Crosby close as they walk off.

"Thank goodness," Buck mutters once he and Bubbles are alone at the table. "Bucky's crush was getting ridiculous."

Bubbles laughs. "Told you, the third martini works every time."

[mercurygray]

I'm really not sure where 'Masters of the Air but it's also the Revolution and the Culper Spy Ring' came from but you know what, this was fun.

Scene: Occupied New York, 1779, or thereabouts. Wilson Callaway’s house.

It had been foolish to let him come here.

There were many things Cordelia regretted now - regretted coming home from Philadelphia and her aunt's house, regretting saying yes to Gale Cleven, when he'd said that she could be of use to them and the cause. Her father's house had his Majesty's soldiers in it, and she had good ears to hear them. But she regretted most of all that he'd chosen the world's stupidest man to be his courier in this enterprise.

John Egan was many things, and a good solider was doubtless one of them, but she was having a hard time seeing that, when he was letting himself into her second floor sitting room window in a borrowed red coat and exchanging pleasantries about the weather.

"You'll be hanged!" she'd hissed, after he'd folded himself through the window, too tall by half for everything but most especially for a spy.

"Well, you didn't make our drop, did you?" he said, pleasant as can be. "I had to make sure you were all right. No sense having our best agent aground."

"Not for the window, you lummox," she shot back, hitting him for good measure. "Soldiers out of uniform are executed as spies."

"It's what I am, though, isn't it?" he said with a grin, completely unbothered by this information. "And that's only if they catch me. Where's your dispatch? I'll take it now."

She could only glare, crossing the room to the loose floorboard under the eaves and gently prising it up so she could pull out her notes.

"Is that where you keep all your secrets?" he asked, peering over her shoulder with little-hidden interest.

"There's no love notes here," she said with annoyance, trying to keep the pile as neat as she could as she pulled out the list she'd written for Gale.

"Only because I haven't sent them yet," he replied.

She rolled her eyes. "If they don't kill you first, John Egan, it'll be me that sinks the knife."

"And I'd be pleased to die looking at someone so pretty, Cordelia Callaway," he said, still smiling. "Even if you do hate me." There were voices downstairs - her father, and another voice, male and booming. Egan froze. "Who's that?"

"Captain Semple."

"What, now? He's at inspection at this hour."

She realized Egan might know more of their British guests' schedules than he let on. "Yes, now!" Cord hissed, trying to keep her voice down. John looked around and considered his exits - the door out to the hallway and the front door, past Mr. Callaway and his guest and at least one servant who knew his face, and the window he'd climbed in through earlier.

And without any ceremony at all, pulled off his hat and belt, pulled her onto his lap, and began kissing her with an intimacy and interest she'd never previously shared with anyone, let alone him.

The door opened, and her father shouted her name, and she sprang away from Egan's lap like she was ashamed to be found there - which, for the moment, was very true. Her father was standing in the doorway with Captain Semple, the two men both wearing looks of revulsion.

"What's the meaning of this?"

"Best be leaving now," John said with a flashed grin, gathering coat, sabre, and crossbelts and making a hasty dash for the open window and the roof beyond, giving a careless salute as he went. "Captain."

Her father was still half in shock, looking from the open window back to Cordelia with apparently nothing to say, words totally beyond him. Had he seen that it was John? It would be just like her father to greet him by name - but the surprise, she thought, had covered most of their sins, and Semple wasn't a local man - he wouldn't know the face. To him he was just another smiling redcoat, set on taking his time with a pretty girl behind her father's back. Clever, really - or it would be, when she'd wiped his kiss off her lips.

"I think I'll leave you to get your house in order, Mr. Callaway," Captain Semple said mildly, glancing from Wilson Callaway's shocked face to Cordelia's flushed and embarrassed one. "Good day."

They heard Mary and her pleasantries, and the door opening and closing. Finally her father found all his thoughts, and spoke. "That was John Egan."

So he had recognized him. "It was."

"In a red coat."

"Yes." Fewer words felt safer now.

"I didn't think your inclination tended that way. To Egan."

She almost laughed, thinking of too many conversations at dinner where she'd made it abundantly clear what she thought of their tall, merry neighbor. "It doesn't."

"Then why - " Mr. Callaway opened his mouth, closed it, and apparently thought the better of his question.

"Ask me no questions and I'll tell you no lies, Papa," Cord said, as quickly as she could. "I promise it's…not as bad as it looks."

"And it's…not what Captain Semple saw, either," her father said, choosing his words carefully.

"No, papa, it's not." John Egan's coat is blue, not red, and we never kissed but to cover something up, and if you ask me why else he was here I don't know what I'll tell you.

Her father looked calmer now, though there was still some concern there. "Has he pushed you to it?" He didn't need to say what it was - intelligencing. Spying.

"No, Papa, I - I volunteered." John Egan couldn't push me to anything if he tried.

Her father nodded slowly, taking all of this in with the same quiet deliberation he did most things. "I'd tell you to put a stop to it but I don't think you'd heed me." He stood in the doorway, still deciding. "He's not to come to the house again, for that. I won't have you put our neighbors at risk, and I'd think Major Cleven has more sense when it comes to plans."

She nodded. "Of course. It won't happen again."

Mr. Callaway's face softened, and he reached up to stroke her cheek and press a kiss to her forehead. "My dear, darling, brave girl."

Cord closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, the memory of her earlier kiss still a ghost on her skin, the feeling of his arm around her waist, her body wrapped into his. I know what my father means by a kiss, but what do you mean, Egan? And why should it vex me so?

[therealslimshakespeare]

MERC IS WRITING FLYBOYS❗️

Still working on the 'rules' of this end of the universe, but I think we're getting a good start on The Darkening Sky: MOTA.

"Looks like we've got a couple of ladies around," Gale said, lightly curious as a couple of the ground crews zipped by in jeeps, all chapped faces and pigtails.

"Lousy with 'em," Egan reported, sounding none too pleased about it. "Air crew, ground crew, weatherwomen. I wish that Warren woman had fucking stayed home."

"You know she's from Wyoming?" Gale said, mostly to DeMarco. "Her grandfather was the state governor."

"I don't care if he was the goddamn president of the United States," Egan interjected angrily. "Having women over here ain't helping us do shit."

"What's this - John Egan has a bad opinion of the fairer sex?" Gale could only smile. "John, has someone hurt you since I've seen you last?"

"No," Egan said, though he still sounded mighty sore about it. "We've got a lady looey running the control tower who's a goddamn pain in my ass."

Gale exchanged a look with DeMarco and raised his eyebrows, and DeMarco grinned back. Oh, so that's how it is.

Egan began to drive them back, giving them the tour as they went - runway, taxiway, hard stands - and finally the control tower, checkerboarded against the sky. Egan parked the jeep and took the stairs two at a time up to the observation level. There were four women, stationed inside the glasshouse, each of them wearing headsets and watching the runway from their stations. The single woman standing turned around and glimpsed the three of them through the glass, her neutral face deepening into a frown before she excused herself and stepped outside to the tower's observation deck. (She looked like she was ready to run interference, the way she was standing between Egan and the door.)

But Egan, it seemed, was ready, his hands already up, "Don't shoot, I'm just giving the new fellows a tour. Buck, Ben, this Lieutenant Callaway, our Control Officer. Lieutenant Callaway, this is Major Gale Cleven, and Captain Benny DeMarco."

The lieutenant nodded, keeping her arms firmly crossed over her chest. She was around their age, with dark hair pulled back into a tight roll and was wearing trousers - practical, probably, for the wind they got up here. She had a way of standing that told Buck that she was not in the business of being easily moved - and staring down John with an expression that could only mean that the pain in the ass feeling was mutual. "Sir."

"Does Lieutenant Callaway have a first name, or do you just not feel like being neighborly with it?" Gale asked, trying to be pleasant, looking between the two of them with faint but growing interest.

"It's Cordelia, but I think Lieutenant will be just fine, for now, Major."

Gale nodded, filing that away with John's earlier remarks. "Heard and acknowledged, Lieutenant. Nice to put a face with a voice after the landing. Looking forward to working with you."

Callaway nodded, and returned to her post, though she continued glancing over her shoulder until she was convinced they were all really leaving.

"She seems nice," DeMarco ventured, glancing again at Cleven as they headed down the stairs and back to Egan's jeep.

Egan scoffed. "Nice, ha. She's a goddamn iceberg. Had me written up for handing out a few compliments to her crew one night - said I was unprofessional, and a threat to group morale."

"The way you go through girls, Bucky, you would be," DeMarco said with a grin. "They take stuff like that personally, you know."

Egan rolled his eyes. "Remind me why the hell I'm friends with you jokers?" He looked at the two of them and scowled at two very knowledgeable smiles. "Oh, get out of my jeep. You're walking back." He picked up Gale's flight bag and pitched it out of the front seat, giving DeMarco just enough time to grab his before he'd shifted the jeep into gear and roared off on his own.

"He'll be fine in an hour," Gale predicted, hefting his flight bag back over his shoulder so that he and Benny could continue their long walk back down the airfield towards the dispersal huts and crew quarters.

DeMarco watched the jeep disappear down the runway and scoffed. "So how long do you think he's wanted to fuck her?"

Gale grinned, entertained that it was that obvious to someone else, too. "Since the minute they met, I think." And I get the sense she's not the kind to fall for easy charm.