#blake x everett

[fandomcentral101]

Everett Lang and Blake Navarro

Wolf Pack 1x02

[puppypackquotes]

Blake Navarro

[shelbbswrites]

Wolf Pack fans, what did you think of the season's penultimate episode?!

"Lion's Breath" tugs on familiar emotional strings (Garrett Briggs!!!) while setting the pack up for an INTENSE season finale.

Here's my review! As always, if you like the review and want to support me, please click the link and engage with my tweet. Both are VERY helpful!

[ashamtly]

Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Wolf Pack (US TV 2023) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Harlan Briggs/Cyrus Nix, Everett Lang/Blake Navarro, Harlan Briggs & Luna Briggs & Everett Lang & Blake Navarro Characters: Everett Lang, Blake Navarro, Cyrus Nix, Luna Briggs, Harlan Briggs, Danny Navarro, Austin Kirk, Phoebe Caldwell, Cody Malcolm, Tia Patterson, Connor Ryan Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn, Abusive Parents, Memory Loss, Mystery, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character Death, based on the series really Summary:

... a howl, broke their bubble, and suddenly it wasn’t just a teen laying on the floor laying on the ground, growling? At the beast on top of her, holding her arm. It was pack, Pack being threatened, and they…, they couldn’t…

(A.K.A part 2 of the Wolf Pack rewrite no one asked for)

[softspeirs]

Steer Clear

A/N: Here we are, kids. This OC came to me out of nowhere. I had no plans to write anything for Ev Blakely, but once I started thinking about it, I couldn't stop. Meet Marie.

It was an innocuous request, in his mind. Hey, Fernandez. Run these messages to the Colonel on your way?

She had frozen in place, halfway down the tower steps at his words, and he recognized the look on her face. He's seen it a thousand times since he met her over a year ago.

"I'm pressed for time, Captain." She says. "I have to run these figures to the plotters--"

"You're on your way there anyway." He insists. He holds out a stack of messages. Weather reports, updated communications from nearby bases, messages about incoming ferries happening later that day.

She turns her back on him.

Heads right down the stairs like he hadn't even spoken, and leaves him standing there.

"For fuck's sake," he whispers to himself, and then he's taking off, hot on her heels.

She's like a wraith the way he catches only glimpses of her disappearing around corners, until finally she's in Ops, handing a message to Red at the maps before turning to pass on other messages, her steps quick and efficient.

The room is relatively quiet and he's sure he's not imagining the way people take one look at the two of them and pretty much clear out. They don't want to be stuck inside with them when the arguing inevitably starts.

He sighs. "Fernandez-- can you just wait a minute?"

"Not really, no."

The thing about an impending promotion is that he's starting to understand why Jack hates being Air Exec. He hates being stuck inside, or in the tower, or elsewhere on the base while others are doing the flying. He understands his role. He'll do it and he'll do a damned good job of it, but that doesn't mean he likes it.

Especially because it means he's in close contact with the Ops staff, who are all, except for Marie Fernandez, willing to work with him.

"Do we have a problem?" He blurts, because he already knows they do. The first day he met her she looked at him with.... nothing. She wasn't rude or anything, but he felt like he could have been any other suit standing in front of her, and it hit him in the gut like he didn't expect. "I'm not giving you orders, I just asked if you'd do me a favor." He's aware his tone is hardening. He's trying not to let it happen, but she's just staring at him in that way she does.

"I don't work for you," she points out, tone perfectly neutral, but something about it just grates. He opens his mouth to respond, but she beats him to it. "I work for the Colonel, and he's the one who gives me orders."

His hands go to his hips and he looks down at the ground, clenching his jaw as he fights his temper. "We're working together, Fernandez. All of us." He leans in, "Unless you forgot."

Her eyes narrow. "Because I couldn't possibly feel the same patriotism that you do, could I?" She pretends to think, finger tapping he chin. "I forgot that the only way to fight from the air is in the seat. Us pencil pushers don't count." Her eyes are blazing, a few tendrils of her dark hair escaping from their pins after hours and hours of work.

"You weren't supposed to hear that." He mutters. Not a good excuse, but he can't help but bite back at her. She gets under his skin - he needs to have the last word. It's a matter of pride, is what he tells himself.

"Then don't gossip where everyone can hear you, Captain." She raises a perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Now. Is there something I can help you with? Because if not, then we're busy."

He takes a deep breath, tries to lower his voice. "I'm just asking if you would be willing to take messages when you're on your way anyway--"

"-- And I told you I don't have time. I know you think I don't do anything but sit around and twirl my hair all day--"

"That's not what I think."

"Can I--" Harry Crosby's head appears around the doorframe of his office.

"Not now, Croz--"

"Shut up Harry--"

They both snap at him in unison, and he holds his hands up in surrender and backs into his office. He's been the third wheel of too many arguments between Fernandez and Blakely over the last few months, and he has no desire to get in the middle of another one, even though he's desperate for a few minutes of quiet.

The sudden quiet between them is tense and for a moment -- he doesn't even think she's aware she does it - the wall around Marie Fernandez comes down. Her face is open, vulnerable. She looks exhausted, just like the rest of them.

She takes a deep breath, settles her shoulders, and squares to face him again, and he's suddenly breathless. She is unbearably lovely. Especially when she's yelling at him. And his heart is pounding, and she's saying something but he can't hear her and--

"Well?" She snaps.

"I-- what?"

"I said, the next time you need something from Ops, send one of the other girls. There's no need for us to keep disturbing everyone else." Her voice is quieter than it was a few minutes ago and he hates it. The fight's gone out of her eyes too, and for a crazed half-second, he wants to reach for her.

To do what, he has no idea, but suddenly he feels out of control, like he has no idea how to speak or move or--

She brushes past him. The door slams behind her as she goes back to her office, just outside the Colonel's.

He pinches the bridge of his nose as the quiet of the room settles over him. He knows this has to get sorted. They can't keep fighting like this, not with the invasion so close on the horizon, not when the communication between Ops and the tower is so important.

They need to trust each other, and he needs to keep his big mouth shut and stop taking his frustrations out on her.

He knows all this, but there's a part of him that's itching for a fight, and she's always willing to give it. Perhaps it's the masochistic part of him that came back from Bremen, knowing everything had gone to shit and convinced that it always would.

Harry comes out of his office again, hands in his pockets.

"Don't say it--"

"You can't keep doing that." He says, serious.

"She started it--"

"She's just doing her job, doing what she's supposed to do."

"I asked for a favor! That's all! Goddamn, you'd think I'm asking for her to get in the goddamn seat and drop a bomb on Hitler's house."

Crosby frowns. "Look, I just-- you let her get to you, and I don't know why, but you're driving everyone crazy. We're all tired but this is too important."

He opens his mouth to argue that Harry Crosby of all people shouldn't be lecturing him about being tired, but he bites his tongue. The door behind him opens again, and he looks over his shoulder, expecting her to storm back in and demand he apologize to her, but it's Douglass.

"Fightin' with Marie again?" He asks, casually, leaning against the wall as he bites down on an apple.

"Jesus Christ." Ev mutters.

"I'm just asking because the two of you really know how to clear a room."

"I'm going to go now. Don't you two have anything better to do?"

"Besides bother you? Not really."

"Thanks, Dougie."

Douglass follows him out the door, calling after him, "Just let us know when you're finally going to do something about it so we can steer clear, alright?"

Blakely flips him the finger over his shoulder and walks back to the tower, his gut roiling for reasons he doesn't want to examine. No, he'll steer clear of her from now on. It's best for everyone.

[millie-multifics]

Though I Yearn • Part 1

Masters of the Air

Secret Admirer x Reader

A string of anonymous letters causes a stir at Thorpe Abbotts. Who could be the author of the tender correspondence you have been receiving?

Warnings: Secret Admirer (could be cute, could be creepy, depends on how you see it.), Reader is part of the Red Cross Girls, Spoilers, possible mentions of injuries, death and warcrimes.

Word Count: ~1.2k

Masterlist Next Part

x x x

Thorpe Abbotts was abuzz before the sun peeked above the horizon. Many of the personnel had been busy throughout the night while the men who would be in the planes got as much rest as their minds and bodies would allow. You were amongst those who had been working through the early morning hours, preparing the Clubmobile to serve fresh donuts and hot coffee that were intended to carry the men through their dangerous and lengthy mission.

Helen stepped into the truck, a small stack of letters piled on top of the supply box in her grip. She set the box down on the chair in the corner, seperating the letters adressed to you from the ones adressed to the few other Red Cross ladies. “Early mail delivery.”

“Must be for morale, first combat mission for many of the men today.” You easily recognized the printing on the first envelope, a letter from back home just like the ones you had recieved every week since arriving to Thorpe Abbotts. The second envelope was unusual, void of a return adress and stamp, only your name was scrawled across the front. You gently peeled open the envelope, unfolding the sheet of paper to read the message inside.

“During our first encounter your presence washed over me like the English rain, soothing and all consuming. You have captured my attention and selfishly, I must admit that I don’t want you to ever let it go.”

The letter had no siganture or name to identify who had written it, only a creased bottom corner and a small coffee stain in the middle of the mostly empty sheet. You didn’t recognize the handwritting but admittedly, you had not seen the writing of the majority of personnel at Thorpe Abbotts. Your brain spun, shuffling through as many first encounters as your mind would allow but it was overwhelming, there were so many possibilites… too many possibilities.

“Everything alright?” Helen asked, her eyes glancing to the letter clutched tightly in your hands, worry creasing her brows. She hoped everything was okay at home, it was everyones nightmare to recieve bad news from home while being on a whole other continent, so close to a raging war.

“Oh,” You quickly folded the letter, tucking it back into its envelope. “Yes, everything is fine.”

You were sure Helen was skeptical, feeling her eyes following your movements as you tucked both letters into your coat. The men trickling out from their quarters was enough to distract both of you from the coffee stained paper.

“I don’t recall such a welcoming committee when I arrived.”

The sudden voice behind you had been startling, you turned to find the handsome Major leaning against the open window of the truck.

“I do recall being in this very spot while you rushed right passed, Major.” You sent the man a polite smile, adding to the stack of paper coffee cups, “Surely you were focused on the business at hand.”

“That must have been it, I’d like to think I would have introduced myself otherwise.“

You were thankful for the roar of planes flying overheard, the arrival of his men drew his attention away from the heat pooling in your cheeks. “That is my cue. Enjoy your day, ma’am.”

The soldiers came in waves, stumbling across the clubmobile on their way to settle in. Many men lined up for the provisions you offered; hot coffee, fresh donuts, cigarettes, the newspaper and even the occasional magazine.

You sent the next in line a smile, one nearly tripping over his own boots as his friend nudged him forward. “Gentlemen, what may I offer you today?”

The dark haired soldier leaned on the window ledge that seperated you, sending you what you could only assume to be intended as a charming smirk. “If a ‘gentle’ man is what you are looking for, then that is what I shall be.”

It certainly had not been the first attempt at flirting you had experienced in the day, but generally the men had kept it tame, calling you pretty in some way or asking to take you for a harmless drink. You let your distaste for the comment show on your face, choosing to adress the amused man at his side.

“May I offer you anything?”

“Just two cups of coffee and cigarettes, thank you.”

You placed only one cup of black coffee on the ledge along with the requested cigarettes, offering a polite smile. “When your friend learns how to speak to women respectfully then he may make requests. Welcome to Thorpe Abbotts.”

Your eyes briefly found those of the dark haired man, his mouth slightly agap with your words before he was pulled out of the line by his now laughing friend.

The line faded quickly, the men moving along to find their Quarters to settle in as soon as they were served. The coffee urns were empty, only a single cup of black coffee leftover from the gallons that had been brewed. Helen had just began to clean when the last few men to arrive wandered through. You had heard through whispers that one plane had been seperated from formation, missing in the clouds. It had flown overhead a short time ago and you assumed these were those lost men. Most passed without stopping for a treat, settling in on the forefront of their minds but one staggered up to the open window.

“Anything left?”

“I’ve always got extra cigarettes or the newspaper on hand, one last cup of coffee if thats what you’re looking for.”

The solider accepted the lone paper cup, sniffing the bitter liquid before taking a large gulp. The boldness helped relieve the putrid smell of vomit from his nostrils. It was fragrent on the plane because his navigator was unable to control his air sickness, but the scent seemed to stuck in his nose as it was still the only thing he could smell, until the coffee anyway.

“You got any gum?” He asked, glancing over his shoulder at two men who were busy chatting amongst themelves. You slide a small package of mint gum across the ledge, watching as stalked toward the two soldiers, throwing the gum to the dark haired one without more than a simple ‘Heads up’.

Your first encounters with many of the men circled your mind as you lay on your bed, the letter once again clutched between your fingers. Major Egan, Douglass and Blakely, Hambone, Crosby and Bubbles, Curt and Dickie. Your first interactions with many of the soldiers were friendly introductions, none had stuck out to you as anything other than kind or mildly flirty.

He had never intended on you reading the letter, it had been written in a futile attempt to rid you from the forefront of his mind. He surely wasn’t a fool, you were far too good for a man like him but he had been completely taken by your warm presence. Unable to ease the yearn he felt for you, anchoring deeper every morning when you happily served what the military had insisted to be coffee.

It may have been a presumptious move on his part but he just couldn’t help himself.

He had snuck the letter into the mail carriers bag when he was delivering letters to the men as they ate was being labelled as ‘breakfast’.

x x x

Tags: @canyousmelltheflowers

[cosmicoatlatte]

────── ☆ kinktober 2024

preferences - quickie

characters: john 'bucky' egan, gale 'buck' cleven, marjorie 'marge' spencer, curtis 'curt' biddick, robert 'rosie' rosenthal, harry crosby, joseph 'bubbles' payne, james douglass, everett blakely, howard 'hambone' hamilton, john brady, ken lemmons, bernard 'benny' demarco

☆ — John 'Bucky' Egan

Oh he is an absolute menace when it comes to sex. With Bucky the one thing you can count on is that all quickies will be followed with longer proper sex in a timely manner and vice versa. If he takes you apart at night he’ll come back for more in the morning, if you two disappear during a function you’ll get a reward once you get home. He always gets horny at the most inconvenient times too. On more than one occasion he’s been late for work because he just had to have you and who are you to deny him when you crave him just as much. Quickies with John are the best distraction. Even though the two of you aren’t strangers to getting it on outside your home he absolutely hates the thought of somebody catching the two of you in the act. You're his and he doesn't share. 

☆ — Gale 'Buck' Cleven

Even though Gale is a very thoughtful lover he is quick to underestimate just how fast he can bring you pleasure. Gale acts under the misguided assumption that proper sex is the only way to go. He likes taking his time and focusing on you first and foremost and quickies just seem to prioritize a man's pleasure. To him it would feel an awful lot like he is just using you and that's just not what you want to be about. Now you can definitely try and start something, corner him in an unsuspecting moment and get on your knees for him, but trust that Gale will find a way to thoroughly pamper you like you deserve. 

☆ — Marjorie 'Marge' Spencer

Marge is a tease and she knows it. Even though she's a fan of quickies, they're almost never quick. She likes to be a little mean, get you all hot and bothered, right on the edge of bliss and then step away to watch you crumble. She'll have you on your knees so fast. If you beg nicely she might even let you eat her out. It's only fair that at least one of you gets to come. And oh how sweet she sounds when she comes around your fingers, dripping against your tongue. She takes it so well, but she gives even better. If you're lucky she'll just play with you for a day, pulling you aside for quickies throughout the day. But maybe she decides that you need to wait a little longer. Poor you. Marge won't even let you take care of yourself. Afterall, that's her job. 

☆ — Curtis 'Curt' Biddick

When it comes to making you fall apart Curtis is a lover and a fighter. So whenever he isn't hellbent on keeping you in his bed for days on end he is a big fan of quickies. There is just something about fast fucking as opposed to making love that makes his blood rush through his body. He has no qualms about his friends knowing just why exactly he disappeared during a night out, even though he's a gentleman that doesn't kiss and tell. He just sends you back out to rejoin the group with a slap on the ass and his come slowly running down the inside of your thigh.

☆ — Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal

With Rosie quickies are more of a rarity. He's not against them, not at all, but to him it just takes away a lot of the intimacy. He doesn't just love the act itself but also foreplay. If it were up to him he'd take his time, every time. Do it properly. Do you properly. But just because he strongly prefers longer moments between you doesn't mean he doesn't indulge. It's a little selfish treat, even if all he does is make you come on his tongue. Rosie could stand to be a little more subtle about it though, because he has the tendency to be in an exceptionally good mood after. His humming is very endearing.

☆ — Harry Crosby

Your Harry has the tendency to get stuck in his own head, poor thing, but luckily he has you to get him unstuck. It might be a dirty method but it works. If it were completely up to him then the two of you would take your time together but he must admit that there is something freeing about giving in when his pretty partner tries to work his pants open. For you, he’ll give in every time. Quickies come with less expectations and less awkwardness. 

☆ — Joseph 'Bubbles' Payne

If there is one thing that you need to know about Bubbles is that he likes to sneak off and get off. Quickies are just near and dear to his heart and it only makes sense that he, as a navigator, knows all the best places for the two of you to get it on. You don't always end up in lockable rooms but neither of you are all too concerned about that. Not that you have much brain left to think when he crowds you into a closet and fucks you hard enough to see stars. If some poor unfortunate soul walks in on you his pace might stutter but he'll be damned if he stops fucking you. He will yell at them to get out and then he'll make you come. 

☆ — James Douglass

To say this man is prepared for whenever you need him would be an understatement. And truly he's a genius because there's no telling when the mood strikes and because he has rubbers stored all over the place you never have to stop and get any. Doesn't matter where you want him. Closets, bathrooms, offices, random secluded corners. As long as it's with you it's paradise for him. His skilled fingers are always itching to get you ready for him. You’re his first priority, trust he’ll find a way to come even if you have to part before both of you reach your peak. 

☆ — Everett Blakely

When it comes to sucking, proper vs. quickie, he is very 50/50. He's a well-balanced man that knows the two satisfy very different urges. He loves fucking you thoroughly, taking his time to tease you and make you melt but sometimes quickies are just the thing the two of you need. Whenever there's a chance to combine them he's doing so. Giving you a taste of what awaits you before taking you out or making sure you’ll be squirming all day waiting for him to come home. Because there's one thing that for certain it's that Ev Blakely makes his girl come.

☆ — Howard 'Hambone' Hamilton

He is absolutely insatiable but you wouldn't want him any other way. More often than not things with him start out fully meant to be just a quick fuck and then turn into nasty long sex that keeps you occupied and leaves your legs shaking. It's not uncommon that instead of disappearing during an event for a little bit the two of you just arrive belated. When quickies stay quick he will have you hard and fast. He has surprisingly good stamina and can keep up his pace. Ham can’t help it, you look so pretty with tears brimming on your lashes. What is a dining room table made for if not for eating?

☆ — John Brady

Johnny is an absolute romantic 100%. He loves taking his time giving you all the attention that you deserve. But sometimes he just needs you. Be it pure adrenaline rushing through his veins or some teasing taken too far, there are just times when he can't take it anymore and just needs to get it out of his system. John wants you without much care about when and where but he's always careful not to get caught. He loves you and doesn't want anybody else to see you in that situation. The way your face looks twisted and pleasure is for his eyes only. 

☆ — Ken Lemmons

When it comes to making you come Ken knows all the ways he can make you reach your high hard and fast but he prefers proper sex over quickies. It's just something he enjoys more, taking his time, making you come again and again. But sometimes the two of you just don't get the chance and have to make do. Not that it's a hardship to have your wrapped around him even for a short amount of time. He doesn't need long to satisfy you. And seeing you like that just helps build up his hunger. 

☆ — Bernard 'Benny' DeMarco

Benny would be crazy to turn down any chance to be with you but he's rarely the one to initiate a quickie. He likes to savor the moment and make love, not just fuck. Now if you were to come to him desperate for release begging please Benny please obviously he'd be on his knees before you know it, it's the polite thing to do. When there's a chance to draw things out and give you the long proper fucking you need he’ll will take it. Loves kissing you through it because he wants you to know how much you mean to him. 

[bcolfanfic]

the young vets au guys as fb shitposts 1/?

[alienoresimagines]

Rosie : Why are we all here ?

DeMarco, nodding towards Bucky who's glowering : Emergency Meeting.

Curt : Alright folks, let's settle this : raise your hand if you have a crush on Buck.

Curt : *Raises his hand*

Blakely : *Raises his hand*

Brady : *Raises his hand*

Dickie : *Raises his hand*

Rosie, fumbling : Oh

Rosie : *Raises his hand*

Bucky, looking around him with wide eyes : What ?? The fuck ??

Bucky : *Raises both hands to assert dominance*

[footprintsinthesxnd]

Trip Hazards

Massive shoutout to the lovely anon who requested this fic. I had a lot of fun writing for Blakley. Pairings: Everett Blakley x f!nurse!reader Summary: Everett Blakely has had his eye on a certain young nurse on base for a while now. When he finally plucks up the courage to ask her out he has a rather unfortunate accident.

There she was. Y/n Y/l/n. As pretty as anything. Her hair was pinned neatly in a Gibson roll while the rest of her head was covered by her white nurse's cap. Blakley sighed as he watched her count out a crate full of dressings and distributed them into piles. He could happily watch her all day.

“She’s a good-looking broad, Blakley,” Douglass agreed, watching the nurse as she began ticking off the new medical supplies on her clipboard. “I can see why you like her,” a smug smile pulled at the bombardier’s lips and his moustache twitched mischievously.

“I don’t like her, I…” Blakley turned to his friend, a little embarrassed that he’d been caught looking at the young nurse again. He couldn’t find the right words to describe how he felt about a certain Nurse Y/l/n. From the moment he’d bumped into her in the infirmary while visiting Bubbles he’d been fond of her. She was softly spoken and had an air of grace about her as she swept down the corridors in her white apron.

“You know you could just talk to her rather than keep staring,” John Egan chimed in from where he was perched on the jeep, lighting up a cigarette, the smoke floating up above their heads.

“No, I can’t. I’d just make a fool of myself,” Blakley replied adamantly, his eyes drifting away from the nurse and back to Douglass who smiled broadly.

The bombardier's moustache twitched once more as if he was going to come out with a clever comment, but Blakley’s warning glare stopped him.

“Well you look like a fool anyway standing over here staring at her,” Gale Cleven’s voice echoed from his spot beside Egan, breaking off the staring contest between Blakely and Douglass.

He turned to the Major, pushed his dark hair back and placed his hat back on his head, “Not you as well.”

Cleven held his hands up in response, but Egan answered for him, a common habit between the two Majors, “What’s the worst that can happen?”

Blakley stared at him with a deadpan expression. If he could have facepalmed he would have. Sometimes he wondered if he could smack Egan and Douglass’ head together and make sense of their comments. “Well for a start she could say no, tell me I’m a creep and then avoid me at all costs.”

The other airmen stared at him as though he’d grown an extra head, but the group remained silent until Cleven spoke up.

“Well other than that. Don’t think worst-case scenario, Blakley. You’re one of the good guys. You cause far less trouble than John.”

Egan glared at his friend and shoved him playfully. Blakley rolled his eyes at the Major’s antics. How could he think of anything serious while they continued this behaviour?

Douglass placed a hand on Blakley’s shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly, but accompanying it with a stern look.

“Alright, I’ll go and talk to her,” Blakley sighed, straightening out his B-3 jacket that he’d worn despite the warm summer afternoon. He was now regretting that decision, and paired with his hat too he was sweating before he’d even turned in Y/n’s direction.

“That’s my boy, go and get her,” Douglass called, hoping up onto the jeep so he could watch his friend.

Blakley felt a shaky breath escape his lips as he took a few tentative steps forward. His eyes were so focused on Y/n that he didn’t hear Lemmons whistling for Meatball, or the large grey object that streaked across his path, not until his leg connected with the object and he went flying through the air.

Meatball seemed unphased by her collision, continuing to trot towards Lemmons while Blakley flailed on the floor.

He could hear his fellow airmen’s cheers and jests from behind him, but it was when he met Y/n’s eyes from across the airstrip that his heart dropped. She’d looked up briefly from her clipboard and their eyes had met before he buried his head back into the dirt.

This couldn’t be happening. No. No. No.

It was the ruckus of laughter that alerted Y/n to the group of airmen standing by the jeep, their heads thrown back in fits of laughter. Her eyes fell on their fallen comrade in front of them, his whole body pressed firmly against the ground. She’d recognise that dark head of hair anywhere as Major Everett Blakley.

She’d seen the Major around often, in the pub in Dicklesburg or the officer club at one of the many on-base parties. She vividly remembered their first meeting while she was nursing Bubbles Payne. He’d been blushing like a schoolboy and her heart had instantly begun to race as their eyes met over the bed.

She watched as his friends continued to laugh at his discomfort and other than the way his limbs flexed against the ground, there was no sign of life. She glanced back down at her clipboard listing medical supplies before placing it down on the crate. Inventory could wait until later.

She removed the cloth that covered her hair and stuffed it into her apron pocket, smoothing down any loose hairs that may have sprung up. She wasn’t sure what it was about Everett Blakley but he always made her heart beat a little faster.

“Are you alright, Major?” She asked, standing above him as her shadow covered his face. He just shook his head, mumbling something into the earth that she couldn’t make out.

Sighing, Y/n crouched beside him, ignoring the way her white apron draped against the ground. Her eyes flicked over to James Douglass who was still bent double. Anytime she had seen Blakley, Douglass had never been far behind.

Her bright eyes flicked over to Major Egan and Major Cleven who had also participated in the laughter despite their fellow airman’s embarrassment. She gave them a look, similar to the one her mother would give her brothers when she’d finally had enough of their antics. The two Majors seemed to catch on and began to usher the men away, but not before Douglass shouted, “Go get her, Blakley.”

So this was what it was all about.

“Are you alright, Major?” Y/n asked, kneeling now and placing a hand on Blakley’s shoulder. She could just make out the pink tips of his ears from beneath the collar of his B-3 bomber jacket. She wasn’t sure why he was wearing it on such a warm day but that was probably contributing to the flush on his cheeks.

“I’m quite well, thank you,” he spoke gruffly against the ground, moving his head just a fraction.

“Right… Do you want to get up then?”

Blakey merely shook his head and had he been looking at Yn he’d have seen her with a more than confused expression.

Y/n huffed, nestling down beside the Major. At her touch, Blakley’s head shot up. He had grass and mud pressed into his right cheek, and a single blade of grass stuck to his lip.

“What are you doing?” He asked seriously, but Y/n couldn’t suppress the chuckle that fell from her lips.

“I’m sitting here with you.”

Blakley cocked an eyebrow and waited for her to elaborate.

“Well, you took quite the tumble and it’s my job to make sure you’re alright.” Y/n pointed at the Red Cross on her armband. “Can’t have one of our brave pilots injuring themselves on my watch.”

Blakley pushed himself up into a sitting position, brushing off the front of his jacket but forgetting his face.

“As you can see,” He cleared his throat, “I’m fine.” He couldn’t help the way his heart pounded in his chest, the blood rushed through his ears loudly. He wondered if Y/n could hear his heart beating too.

“Other than your wounded pride I would imagine,” she suggested and Blakley’s face grew red once more. “It’s okay to be clumsy, I’m clumsy too.” Y/n pulled her long white apron up to just above her knees, revealing multiple purple bruises, “I’m always falling over things.”

Blakley swallowed hard, his eyes travelling over the nurse's pale flesh. He felt his cheeks growing warmer and he cleared his throat, removing his gaze from her body. He should have been looking far more respectfully than he was.

Y/n seemed to notice his blush and reached over, linking her hand through his. Blakley glanced down at their joined hands, a faint ghost of a smile on his lips.

“There are worse things to be than clumsy,” Y/n added, her bright eyes meeting Blakley’s with a kind smile. “You could have a moustache like Douglass.”

Blakley chuckled, running his thumb over his own moustache, neatening the corners.

A gasp and a muffled shout from behind them confirmed that Douglass was in fact listening to their conversation.

A brunette head appeared beside the jeep and Major Egan flashed them a smile, as he marched Douglass away despite his protests regarding his rather ‘fetching’ moustache.

Blakley chuckled, turning back to the girl in front of him. There definitely were worse things than being clumsy, and who knows, maybe being clumsy was the best thing that could have happened to him.

Tags: @georgieluz @docroesmorphine @major-mads @violetdaze25 @bcofl0ve @precious-little-scoundrel @blurredcolour @artlover8992 @b00ks1ut @xxluckystrike @hockeyboysarehot @groovin2beats @kmc1989 @ginabaker1666 @hesbuckcompton-baby @beebeechaos @forsythiagalt @prettyinlimegreenboots

[thatsrightice]

Before the war, Harry Crosby had started school for his master’s degree in literature at the University of Iowa. He was regarded as a very smart guy, “borderline genius” by some of the others he served with and yet infuriatingly humble.

On one particular training mission with the Just-a-Snappin’ crew, the weather was good and Crosby knew where they were at every second of the fight, so he pretended to be a tour guide of sorts.

"Navigator to crew, if you look out the right window you can see The Wash."

“Waist, here. What's The Wash?"

I told him. "It's that huge inlet on the coast." In a few minutes I hit the button again. "Now if you look on the port side you can see Robin Hood's hometown, Nottingham. That's Sherwood Forest right by it."

A string of Rogers.

And later on in that same flight…

I tried to keep the crew entertained. I pointed out some places with funny English names, like "Ribble" and "Barrow-in-Furness." I showed them Balmoral Castle, Gretna Green, and Newcastle.

The best part is, only Crosby was allowed to do such a thing during the flight. Blakely would get rather miffed if anyone else tried to initiate any funny business over open-mic.

[fandomcentral101]

Everett Lang and Blake Navarro

Wolf Pack 1x05

[hesbuckcompton-baby]

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 18

Masterlist | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 |-| Chapter 19

AO3

Summary: As the war comes to a close, the future is brought into focus.

Word Count: 3.6k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58 @justheretoreadthxxs @blakelysco-pilot

Dear Mrs Higgins

Thank you so much for the tea set - Robert and I think it's lovely...

Frankie lifted an envelope to her mouth, running her tongue along the glue as she finished writing the latest in a long line of thank-you letters still in order from the wedding. The formal niceties felt foreign to her, even to write, and a pile of crumpled paper covered the floor by her bed where she had tossed away a litany of spelling mistakes. Rosie had offered his assistance many times, but with all the supply drops he'd been running, she had no desire to burden him with anything else.

Just as she finished signing the most recent letter, the door to the hut slammed open, making her jump and accidentally smudge the ink. "Oh, for fuck's sake, do you have to barge in here like the building's on bloody fire?"

"Frankie, turn the radio on," George huffed, striding towards her.

"Yeah, in a minute - I've got to rewrite this one now, so-"

"Now," She pressed, getting down on her knees to rummage beneath Frankie's bed. "Where is it?!"

"Over there on the window ledge," Frankie frowned, watching as George zipped across the room. "What's going on?"

"Churchill's making an announcement."

"Oh, shit-" She muttered, letter writing immediately forgotten as they fumbled to set up the radio, perched side by side on the edge of the bed as they listened closely. They had made it just in time, and as the familiar, slurring voice came echoing over the waves, a sense of importance seemed to settle over the room - one so potent that Frankie's whole body seemed clenched, her heart struggling to beat out its rhythm in time.

"Yesterday morning at 2.41am at General Eisenhower's headquarters, General Jodl, the representative of the German high command and of Grand Admiral Donitz, the designated head of the German state, signed the act of unconditional surrender of all German land, sea and air forces in Europe to the Allied expeditionary force, and simultaneously to the Soviet high command."

She felt George grab her hand. The words didn't quite seem real - how could they? Surely, they had been coming for a long time, and yet their arrival seemed so sudden, that it was as if Frankie were recalling a dream - peering through a veil into a fiction constructed by her subconscious, frozen in place as if any sudden movement might break the illusion.

She pressed her heels harder into the floor beneath her feet. It was solid. Real.

"Our dear Channel Islands will be free tomorrow. Hostilities will end officially ​at one minute after midnight tonight, Tuesday, the 8th of May, but in the interests of saving lives the ceasefire began yesterday to be sounded all along the fronts."

A bark of laughter escaped her, hand rising to clap over her mouth, suddenly embarrassed by the outburst despite being in the privacy of the hut, in the company of no one but her best friend. Beside her, George had begun to chuckle giddily, unable to wipe the grin from her cheeks.

"The German war is therefore at an end. After years of intense preparation Germany hurled herself on Poland at the beginning of September, 1939, and in pursuance of our guarantee to Poland and in common action with the French Republic, Great Britain, the British Empire and Commonwealth of Nations declared war against this foul aggression."

Blood rushed to her ears, the pounding in Frankie's chest so fierce that she almost struggled to hear the broadcast. Her lungs felt full to burst, pressing against her ribs so hard they could snap. Neither woman felt any need to listen further before collapsing into each other's arms, squeezing so forcefully that it hurt. But they didn't care.

There was no one else Frankie wanted to spend this moment with. Not Bucky, not Ken - not even her husband. There was no one she'd spent more of this war alongside than George - no one who had seen her at so many of her worst moments, no one who had brought her through them quite like she had.

This was the first instant they'd ever spent as friends during peacetime. And now they had to decide what that meant.

"I'm coming with you," George's voice came hoarse over her shoulder. "If you're going to New York, then so am I."

"What about Ev?" Frankie chuckled.

She felt her shrug. "He'll come if I tell him to."

Grinning, she held her even tighter. Weren't they all just following Rosie in the end?

"I need to find him," Frankie uttered.

George nodded. "Me too. Different him. Same sentiment."

They didn't let go for a long moment, breathing in synch. Maybe the war had brought them together, but peace was never going to tear them apart.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

An almighty swarm of airmen had gathered outside one of the huts by the time Frankie arrived, having jogged all the way from her own, and the moment she locked eyes on Rosie she was running. Even in the thick of the crowd, his gaze found her without even having to call out, shouldering his way through, beaming so widely that the cool air stung against his teeth. She let out something between a shriek and a whoop, hurling herself into his arms the moment they collided, feet swept off the ground as he spun her once, then twice in the air.

Neither needed to say the words 'it's over' - they knew the other knew, that was good enough. Besides, those words held far too much weight to deal with right now. Those words meant their time here was over - that the future was now.

As Frankie touched the ground again, Rosie's hands cupped her cheeks, littering her face with kisses as she guffawed with laughter. A few of the airmen nearby had taken to whooping and whistling at the sight, and she felt the blood rush to her face, tinting her cheeks a bright red. "Alright, alright," She chuckled, gently batting away his hands as she leaned forward to press a quick peck to his lips.

"Sorry fellas," Rosie called over his shoulder, gaze never leaving his wife for even a moment as he seized her hand, abandoning the makeshift celebration without hesitation.

"We didn't have to go," Frankie pointed out as they walked away, bumping against his side as her free hand wrapped around his arm.

"Well, I wanna celebrate with my wife."

"Oh-ho, say that again," She tittered.

"My wife," He grinned, pressing a firm kiss to her temple. "And when we get outta here I'm gonna buy you a house - hell, I'll buy you anything you want."

"Well, yeah, I'd hope so - we both know I married you for the money," Frankie teased as he ruffled her hair beneath his palm in silent reprisal. They were quiet for a moment until she spoke up again, serious this time. "Dad and the kids don't need me anymore. But... I really loved looking after those kids."

She could feel his stare, fixed on her as they walked. "You been thinking about what you said at the wedding?"

"About a baby? ...Yeah, kinda."

Nerves coloured his voice as he spoke again. "...And?"

Frankie shrugged. "Why not? Yeah."

It hadn't seemed possible that he could grin even wider, and yet somehow he managed it. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," She assured him, pulling him into her embrace as his eyes began to well up with tears. Chin tucked over his shoulder, she let herself begin to grin too. "Yeah, honey."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

George's hair blew this way and that as she walked, palms in an endless battle against the wind to smooth it back down again as she muttered to herself, scanning every group she passed for the face she was searching for. Come on Ev, where are you? Many of the men she worked alongside called out to her as she passed, but she was so focused on the task at hand that she offered nothing but the occasional wave, too distracted to properly reply.

"George!" A familiar voice called, an involuntary smile already creeping across her expression in anticipation before she had even pinned down where it was coming from. But then Blakely was hurrying towards her, engulfing her in an embrace so sudden that it was all she could do not to audibly groan. "Ah, I was lookin' for you."

"Hey!" George chirped, holding him tightly. "I was looking for you! I've got something to ask you."

He seemed to grow slightly tense at this. "Yeah, so do I."

Holding onto her cheery demeanour despite the shift in his, she pulled away. "Okay, you first."

Letting out a nervous chuckle, Everett shook his head. "No, no - after you."

"Okay... Look, it's just..." George took a deep breath, hands clasped tightly. "Frankie and Rosie are gonna go to New York together now that this whole thing is done, and I... I wanna go with her, Ev. She's my best friend."

A wave of relief seemed to wash over him as he began to smile. "You wanna go to New York?"

She shrugged. "Yeah."

Blakely began to laugh. "Babe, we can go to New York."

A grin started to crease at George's cheeks. "Really?"

"Yeah, of course," He beamed.

"Okay. Okay, yeah - now you go," She nodded, passing her weight impatiently from foot to foot.

Suddenly he was nervous again, glancing around at the huts and men around them as if self-conscious. "Alright..."

Her brow furrowed. "... You ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, just... didn't really plan on doing this here."

George's frown deepened, and Everett couldn't help but wonder how she hadn't caught on yet. "D'you wanna... go over there?"

"George," He laughed in exasperation, digging deep into his pocket as he shook his head. The faintest yelp of surprise escaped her as the diamond ring caught its first glint of sunlight, carefully unwrapped from the handkerchief that had protected it on the long journey from his mother's house.

"Oh, I'm a bloody idiot," She whispered. Raising both hands to cover her mouth, she let out a giddy laugh, beaming before he could even ask the question.

Blakely had begun to grin, pointing down at the ring in his palm as he waited for her to stand still. "Can I-?"

"Yes! Yes." George nodded firmly, planting both feet in the gravel below as she waited for him to ask the question.

"George Aarons," He started, suppressing a chuckle as he noticed the way she had begun to fidget impatiently. "Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" She cried, her answer tumbling forth so quickly that she almost cut him off completely, throwing herself into his arms as an elated laugh erupted from her throat. Arms wrapped securely around her back, he swept her off her feet for a moment before pulling away to plant a hard kiss against her lips, palms lifted to cup her jaw.

"I love you," George breathed as their lips separated, faces barely an inch apart.

Everett smiled, pressing his forehead against hers. "I love you too."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Frankie practically screamed when she first caught sight of George, entering the party as it raged in the officers' club, new engagement ring sparkling on her finger. "Holy shit!" She yelped, practically hurling herself at her best friend as she hugged her. Chin tucked tightly in the crook of George's neck, she scanned the crowd for signs of Blakely, pointing a finger as he stopped in his tracks. "You!"

"Me?"

"Thank you for marrying the love of my life," Frankie nodded sagely, gesturing for him to come close so that she could pat him on the shoulder without leaving George.

His brow furrowed slightly. "... So Rosie would be-?"

"My husband. Duh."

"Of course."

Rosie had recognised her yelp from across the bar, burrowing his way through the crowds in search of Frankie. "Ah. Hey! Congratulations!" He grinned as he spied George's ring, giving Blakely an affectionate clap over the shoulder as they shook hands. "Mind if I steal my wife for this next dance?"

"Steal away," Frankie nodded, planting a forceful kiss on George's forehead as she retracted the hug, leaving a lipstick stain in her wake. As the couple weaved their way back through the crowd, Blakely let out a snort of laughter, wiping the stain away with the heel of his palm.

"Is she-?"

"Oh, really quite drunk, yeah," George affirmed.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"I never got good at this, huh?" Frankie laughed, uttering a swift apology as she stepped on Rosie's toe. Again.

"Well, I don't think being good is really the point," He shrugged.

"In other words, you agree - I'm horrible at this."

"I didn't say that!"

Frankie gasped. "You're 'yes-dear'-ing me!"

Rosie's brow furrowed, somewhere between confused and entertained. "I don't even know what that means."

"It's when you just go along with whatever I say because I'm your wife and you don't want to have to tell me I'm an insane person to my face."

"Well, I like my crazy wife," He smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her cheek as she hummed a chuckle. They continued to step side to side as the music continued its brisk pace, Frankie's expression twisting with embarrassment as she felt his toe beneath her foot once more, the sight of this making Rosie laugh. "We don't have to keep doing this," He offered between chortles.

"No, I'm gonna do it until I get it right, otherwise I'll get shown up every time we go out," She frowned.

"Then you've gotta do it properly," Rosie said, looking down at the floor as he nudged her feet apart with his own. "Feet like that - you step with this one, then bring them together..."

As he continued to explain, Frankie began to realise that she hadn't been listening to a word, too distracted by... well, him. It was still somewhat embarrassing to admit, but if she stared at him for too long everything else seemed to simply ebb away, his voice fading into background chitter as her gaze traced every subtle movement in his expression, her lip rising in a calm, gentle smile.

For so long, this place had gotten used to firing on all cylinders - always working, always preparing for the next thing - never hesitating, never still. But now? Now there was nothing ahead of her - no planes to prep, no mission to agonise over. She was Just Frankie and he was Just Rosie, and everything else was simply cast aside. It was rare she ever got a moment to simply stop and stare - to take in the man before her and simply bathe in the feeling of how wholly and utterly she adored him.

"No, you've- ...Honey, you've stopped moving."

His voice came into focus once more, and Frankie blinked away her stupor, shaking her head slightly. "... Right."

"You okay?" He asked, brow creasing as he tilted his head slightly, a loose curl tumbling free.

"Mhm," She nodded, reaching up without a second thought to brush it away, her warm fingertips still managing to leave a flush in their wake as they grazed against his skin. "Tired. Little too much whiskey. I'm still working my way through the thank-you letters from the wedding."

"Well, I'll help," Rosie shrugged.

"No, no, you're-" Busy with your missions. The words had nearly slipped out without a second thought. And as a grin began to make its way across his face, she knew he'd predicted them.

"No. I'm not."

"No you're not," Frankie repeated, beginning to mirror his smile. "God, we're about to have way too much free time."

"Well, I can think of a couple things to do," He smirked, making her snort with laughter.

"Shush. We'll do that later. I gotta find Bucky," She beamed, giving his arm a tug as she pulled out of his grip, squeezing his hand as she turned away.

Rosie's brow furrowed. "I thought we were dancing?"

"Later!"

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Flares illuminated the night sky as Bucky sat back in his seat, watching on idly from his perch up on the command tower. Back when this had all started, he would've been inside with the others without a moment's hesitation, drinking and singing and making merry like all the rest. But these last two years had changed him, and that tug in his chest that had once compelled him on nights like this had gone limp.

At least one thing had always stayed the same.

"You fellas need some more booze up there?"

His lip curled in an involuntary smile, craning forward in his seat to peer over the railing. Standing in the grass below, profile brightened in the flickering light of the flares, Frankie stared up at him, a bottle in each hand.

"Get up here, Bevan!" Gale called beside him, letting out that deep, hearty laugh of his. She flashed a grin, the thunder of footsteps rising towards them as she dashed up the stairs, occasionally stumbling from an overindulgence of alcohol.

"Figured you'd be all over your husband tonight, all things considered," Bucky teased, edging over to the edge of his seat so that she could perch beside him.

"He gets me every other day. You and me gotta catch up on lost time."

He smiled, slinging an arm around her shoulders as she popped the cork on the champagne she had stolen, letting out a yelp as bubbles flowed over the brim, covering her hands.

"Before we make any more of a mess, I'm gonna see if I can't find us some glasses," Gale chuckled, stepping around the small puddle of champagne that was forming as he made his way to the door. "You can have my seat, Frank."

"Thanks," She uttered, squeezing Bucky's hand with hers and leaving a sticky palm print behind as she slid off the edge of his chair, sinking into the other.

Left alone, the pair sank into quiet for a long moment, listening peacefully to the cheers and music that hummed steadily from further down the runway.

"How's it feel?" He asked after a while.

Frankie let out a huff of amusement. "Completely, utterly bizarre. I mean... everything in my life changed because of this war, and now it's just... over."

"Which is a good thing. Right?"

"Oh, of course, yunno... I lost family to this thing. Almost all the boys I grew up with are dead now. But then, almost all the best people in my life, I only met because of this war. Hell, I'm married now - I can't just go back to how it was before."

Bucky let out a long sigh, nodding along as she spoke. He stared at the floor for a while, before finally speaking up.

"Y'know... It's gonna sound stupid, but for a little while back then, at the beginning, I kinda thought you and me..."

"Yeah, I know," She nodded, a beat passing before she reached across to grab his hand, holding it in her lap.

They were silent for a moment, letting the weight of Bucky's confession rest between them.

"Your hands are really sticky."

"They are covered in champagne," Frankie snorted, letting out a cackle as Bucky wrestled his hand from her grip, wiping it clean against her skirt. "Oh, you bastard."

"That's what you get."

As their laughter trailed to a stop, she found herself sobering, taking a deep breath.

"Promise me you're not gonna be alone after this. Promise you'll call and visit and find a nice girl to marry, and you won't let yourself go home to an empty house forever."

A flicker of something like adoration crossed his expression.

"Promise."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Gravel crunched beneath Frankie's feet as she finally returned to her hut, the energy that had carried her through the night steadily dwindling. Scrunching her eyes shut as she yawned, a frown began to crease her cheek as her vision readjusted, noticing the door to the hut as it gaped open, exposing the interior to the darkness.

Creeping up towards the entrance, brow furrowed, she tapped her knuckles gently against the doorframe, peering inside. There was only one light in the whole place, and in the warm glow, she could make out a familiar silhouette.

"... Honey?"

Rosie looked up from his spot on the edge of her bed, pen clasped between his fingers as he began to smile at her. "Hey, baby."

She let out a bemused chuckle, stepping inside. "... What're you doing?"

Shrugging, he raised one of the thank-you letters she'd been working on. "You said you needed help with 'em."

Frankie sighed, beaming as she came to stand in front of him. "I didn't mean right now. You should be at the party."

"Party got boring."

"It didn't sound boring."

"You weren't there."

The admission was so earnest that she swore something inside her melted, lifting both hands to loop around the back of his neck. Casting the cards aside, he stared up at her, arms draped around her waist.

"Now I am."

She pressed a long kiss to his scalp, cradling his head in her palms. Rosie let out a satisfied sigh, his thumb rubbing circles against her hip.

"Let's get outta here," He said.

Frankie's brow arched in amusement. "And go where?"

There was a glint in his eye. "Get us a room at the pub?"

"It'll be full by now."

"Well... I did call ahead."

She gasped teasingly. "Oh, you're good."

Rising to stand, he tugged one of her hands away from his neck, pressing a kiss to the back of her palm. He had that look in his eyes, the kind that made her cackle and go terribly red all at once.

"You have no idea."

[blakelysco-pilot]

Every Time We Say Goodbye

Beat Me, Daddy, Eight To The Bar: Part Seven Everett Blakely x Valencia DiRosano (OC)

Valencia is about to learn first-hand that not everything is as it seems. Especially when the horrors of the war threaten to take from her for the first time. Who will be there to pick her up and carry her through, and will friendship alone be enough; especially when her best friend is harboring the secret of a lifetime.

Part Six Follow along with the Eight to The Bar Playlist

Val moved through the house with a smile, dropping her bags by the door and leaving her purse and gloves on the credenza. She could hear a voice coming from the living room, softly speaking without waiting for a reply. Turning the corner, she found Everett holding a small baby, his eyes bright as he kept talking, the baby looking up at him in wonder at each word. Pausing by the door, she stood and watched, her smile never fading. 

“Mommy’s going to be home soon, and then, we can tell her all about what we did today… did you miss her while she was out to lunch with the girls? I did too, but I bet she had a great time with your Aunties. We need to make sure we remind her how much we love her, okay? Did you know mommy served in the war? Prettiest girl in East Anglia, but your Uncle Dougie might fight me on that and say it’s your Aunt Olive… Mommy made the best coffee, and she looked so pretty doing it too. Except for when your Uncle Curt would annoy her… he was really great. Did you know, he introduced me to mommy? Sometimes mommy gets sad because she misses him, so we need to remind her of the good stuff…”

No, that couldn’t be right… Curt couldn’t be gone. He wouldn’t just give up that easy; no one had more gusto during the war than he did! Then who had walked her down the aisle? Who…who’s life was she looking at? Surely not her own! Her life included her best friend, no matter how much he annoyed her, he was supposed to be there. 

“No…” she whispered, the word muffled as the house around her filled with a rusting noise as she turned and ran back towards the front door, desperate to get out of this life that didn’t belong to her. “No!”

Her eyes flew open, the rustling sound continuing around her as she took in the sight of the Red Cross hut. The side table with the photos of her and her friends, her rosary sitting next to the photo of her and Everett where she had placed it before bed. Helen sleeping in her bed to her left, wrapped up like a caterpillar waiting to emerge as a butterfly, and Olive sitting up in the bed to her right flipping through the pages of a book. So that was what she had heard. Exhaling deeply, she stretched beneath her blankets, arms coming up to test the temperature in the hut. 

“Morning Chickie,” she turned to face Olive, the Brit offering her a smile in return. “Up already?”

“You know me…” Olive smiled, closing her book and placing it on her side table. 

Sitting up, she swung her legs from under the covers and stood, making her way to the washroom to start her morning routine. As she passed Helen, or what she assumed was Helen beneath the blankets, she gave her a shake to rouse her as well, so that the three of them could start their day. 

“Nooo…” the Helen shaped blankets whined, burrowing deeper into the pillows. “Not yet… I was just about to have my big kiss with Jimmy Stewart!”

“You can kiss Jimmy Stewart at bedtime!” Val hollered from the sink, her voice muffled as she washed her face. “Right now, Herbert Nash is waiting for you to serve him coffee and wish him good morning!”

“Oh,” Helen giggled, untangling herself from the blankets. She was wrapped so tightly, Olive had to come and give her a hand. “Uh, Olive, can you uh…”

“Jeez, Helen, how tight tight did you wrap up last night Chicken, it wasn’t that cold!”

“No, but it’s so cozy. Like being held and soothed to sleep.”

“Oh, I see, you were dreaming of your sweet flyboy.”

“Olive!”

“I’m just saying,” she shrugged with a grin, watching as Helen joined Val in the washroom. “I bet it was a real nice dream too, especially when Jimmy Stewart swooped in.”

“That’s what happens when you read magazines before bed,” Val laughed, coming back into the main hut to get dressed. “Romanced by Nash and a Hollywood star.”

“And who were you dreaming of, hmm?” Helen begged the question, peeking around the wall of the washroom, toothbrush in hand. Val glanced over her shoulder as she pulled on her blouse before replying. 

“Who do you think,” Val teased, not ready to give up the dream turned nightmare that seemed more like a bad omen than anything else. “Cary Grant.” 

“Oooh!” Both girls teased her, their laughter filling the hut as they continued to get ready for their day, and for a moment, she forgot about the dream, and what it might have meant. 

They carried on with the start of their day, dressing and quickly pulling the blankets up on the beds so that the hut wasn’t messy. Once Val was in front of the mirror, digging through her cosmetics bag, the door swung open to reveal Tattie, a small box in hand and a smile on her face. 

“Morning girls!” She greeted them, setting the box down on the nearest side table, digging into it with one hand. 

“Morning chickie,” Val turned, zipping the jacket of her jumpsuit halfway. “Presents?”

“New uniform requirements,” Tattie shrugged. “Don’t ask me why but, we’ve got dog tags now.”

“Dog tags?”

“Yes, so don’t lose them please.” 

Handing Val her chain, the brunette inspected the two tags hanging from the thin metal chain, the second tag hanging from a smaller chain, lower than the first.  

“Perfect! One for me and one for Ev!” She beamed, pulling it over her head with care not to disrupt her hair, before tucking it into her blouse. 

“Oh! Olive,” Tattie called to her, Olive turning on the spot as Tattie tossed her a set of tags. “It’s official. We’re keeping you.”

“Like you had much of a choice, Spaatz.” Olive grinned, looking over her tags with awe before following Val’s lead and putting them on. 

“Something like that.” Tattie winked, handing Helen her tags as well.

“Helps to have a dad in high places doesn’t it?” Val teased, grabbing her cigarettes and old lighter with one hand, and her rosary with her other. Once all three items were secured inside her pockets, she linked arms with Olive and gestured to the door. 

“Shall we?”

“Come on Chicken,” Olive beamed. “I suspect there’s two men hankering for a coffee and a good morning kiss out there.”

“Helen? Are you coming or waiting for Jimmy Stewart?” Val teased, reaching her arm back to gesture to her friend. 

“Oh you’re so funny,” she rolled her eyes, grabbing Val’s hand and heading out the door with both her and Olive, Tattie right on their heels. “You’ll never let me live it down, will you!”

“We will, don’t worry.” Val chuckled. 

“After you’ve had a proper song with Herbert Nash.” Olive grinned wickedly, wiggling her eyebrows as she looked at Helen. 

“And who says I haven’t!”

“Helen!”

“What? He’s very charming!”

Pulling open the door, the four girls are met with the thickest smog to ever grace East Anglia, at least, that’s what it felt like. 

“They can’t fly in this!” Val crowed, turning to Tattie with a worried look in her eye, as if hoping the woman had an answer. “Chicky’s got to ground them, right?”

“I don’t know, Valencia,” Tattie gave her hand a squeeze in solidarity, letting her know she shared the same worry. “For now, let’s just do what they need us to, hmm?”

“Okay… come on then. Coffee’s not going to brew itself.”

“I made the first batch of sinkers on the early shift.”

“You love the early shift, don’t ya Tat.” Olive teased from Val’s other side. 

“It’s not so bad.” she grinned, and Val could see a hint of something simmering beneath the surface; but that was something for another time. 

Approaching the Clubmobile, Val could just make out four figures leaning against the side. As they got closer she could see that it was Jack Kidd, Dougie, Herbert Nash and Everett. The boys were smoking and chatting amongst themselves, the three veteran flyboys appeared to be giving Nash the lowdown on how mornings usually unfolded on base. 

“Excuse me fellas.” Everett tossed his cigarette down before pushing off the truck and making his way to Val. 

Quickly untangling her arm from Olive’s and breaking away from the other three girls, Valencia met Everett halfway, falling into him with ease as he pressed his lips to hers in greeting. They kept it clean, aware of their friends being so near to them, before pulling away slowly. 

“Good morning…” 

“Hmm, good morning,” Val grinned, her thumb swiping at the corner of his mouth. “You got a little something…”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, and we don’t need Chicky seeing you with lipstick all over your face.”

“No,” he laughed, giving her thumb a quick kiss before she pulled back. “I don’t need a chewing out this early in the day.”

“If he can even find you in this soup.” She frowned, taking his hands, her grip trying not to come across as desperate, regardless of how she felt. 

“Red’s got eyes in his ass, they’ll find us.”

His fingers brushed back a few strands of her hair that had fallen victim to the early morning breeze, his thumb grazing her temple. His big, hazel eyes went wide for a moment, looking over her shoulder to find his friends all in similar positions. He clocked Dougie and Olive, his bombardier had his better half pressed up against the side of the truck as he kissed her good morning, while Helen was giggling at something Nash had said, the fresh pilot looking a little too rigid with the higher ranking officers around him. And Tattie and Jack were, well he wasn’t sure, but they were talking softly and he had some strange look in his eye that Ev couldn’t quite place. 

“So, what’s brought this on hmm?”

“Ran into Nash last night walking back from your hut. He had caught up with Rosie so we all went back together,” Ev gestured over his shoulder. “We thought it might be nice to surprise you before the day got started.”

“And Jack?”

“He sort of just tagged along… not sure what that’s about.”

“I have a pretty good idea,” Val grinned. “I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“You think…?” He wrapped his arms around her, swaying her in place.  

“Oh absolutely,” she laughed, arms sliding up the back of his leather jacket. “Jack’s got a twinkle in his eye.”

“You have a twinkle in your eye.” His face pressed into the crook of her shoulder, his eyes closing against her cheek, lashes tickling her gently. 

“I wonder why that is.” 

His reply was cut short by Olive hollering that the coffee was done, Dougie front and center at the window so he could get his first cup. 

“No sugar, please, lovey.”

Val could just see the blush on Olive’s face at the nickname, shaking her head as she climbed into the truck to help her serve the boys. 

“Oh, you like that one!” Dougie looked triumphant, taking the coffee from Olive with a grin. 

“That one?” 

“I’m trying out nicknames,” he explained, waving at Val. “Olive likes that one, I can tell.”

“Everett,” Val turned to her boyfriend, passing over his coffee. “Please don’t try any new nicknames for me, okay?”

“I gotcha,” he laughed. “Besides, we tested out sweet cheeks and you hated it.”

“Still hate it,” she grimaced. “Sounds funny and, dunno, just not like you.”

“Don’t worry sweetheart, I remember.”

“Ah, better.” She smiled, clocking two small boys running across the field from the hardstand at breakneck speed, laughing the whole way. 

“Incoming,” Helen laughed, side stepping and pulling Nash with her. 

“Who’s kids are those?” He asked, looking around at the group. 

“Billy and Sammy,” Helen replied, pointing out each respectively. “Local boys who’ve taken a shine to Kenny and Winks.” 

“The ground crew fellas, right?”

“Right. They came by one day while the two of them were working and we haven’t been able to shake em since.” 

“Colonel Harding’s okay with that?”

“He doesn’t mind much,” Tattie patted Nash on the shoulder as she moved behind him to join Olive and Val in the truck. “As long as they don’t get in the way of work, and they’re behaved, he’s fine.”

The two young boys almost ran head first into the Clubmobile, Everett reaching his arm out to catch Sammy from falling as he tripped. 

“Woah, Sammy! Easy pal!”

“Sorry Captain Ev!” The young boy giggled as Everett ruffled his hair, and Val couldn’t help but recall the better part of her dream that was Ev and the baby, and the gentle nature he had taken. 

“Are you two behaving?” He looked down at them much like a parent would, but a teasing smile on his face. 

“Yeah!” They chorused, hoping it was convincing enough. 

“Alright, well, go on, I think Miss Olive has something for you.” 

Olive had two fresh donuts on a piece of kitchen roll for them, and Val could practically see their mouths watering at the sight. She quickly grabbed two of the smaller mugs from under the counter and filled them with milk before topping them off with some of the coffee; a little something to make the kids feel like they were grown ups. Something her Nonna used to do back home, but with slightly less milk and definitely more coffee. 

“Alright boys, careful,” Val leaned down with the two cups, their small hands grabbing at them eagerly before realizing she had made them a coffee. “And don’t tell your Ma! It’s our secret.”

“Wow! Coffee!” Billy’s eyes grew wide, his mouth pulled wide in a smile up at Val. 

“What do you say, hmm fellas?” Dougie ruffled their hair as he passed them by. 

“Thank you Miss Val and Miss Olive!” They cheered before running back towards the hardstands. 

“You gave two hyper kids coffee? Jeez Val!”

“Oh relax, it’s mostly milk.”

“Oh! Well, that’s smart of you.” Olive grinned. 

“Right,” Val winked. “Not just a pretty face.”

“The prettiest, though,” Ev winked, passing his half smoked cigarette to her through the hatch with a smile. “Morning Maude. Did we lose Doug?”

“Ernest,” Olive teased, looking out at where Dougie had just been standing with the boys. “He was just here, I’m not sure where he is actually.”

“Okay sourpuss, I’m sure he’ll be back soon.” Ev grinned, gesturing to the figure approaching in the fog. 

“There he is!” Olive breathed, leaving the truck to meet him halfway.

Val remained in the truck with Tattie, the two brunettes leaning on the open hatch to talk to their friends while Doug had pulled Olive to the side to talk privately. 

“Still can’t believe you gave those kids coffee,” Tattie laughed. “Even the slightest bit!”

“Oh stop, my Nonna used to give me coffee when I was their age. It’s nothing.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense.” Jack looked up at her, half smile on his face. 

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Just one of those things.” He shrugged as she passed him his own cup. 

“I don’t think much of it. Those kids’ll be drinking it eventually, it may as well come from adults who are watching them.”

“Did your Nonna give Biddick coffee when he was a kid, too?” Helen asked. 

“Absolutely not!” Val roared, laughing at the look on Helen’s face. “That boy does not need anything else, he’s hyper enough.”

The laughter of the group filled the foggy space around the truck, casually sipping their morning coffee and picking on the first few donuts that had been set out. Nash looked like it was a privilege to be among the group, sticking close to Helen even though the other boys had done a good job at making him feel welcome. 

“Doug! You need smokes?” Ev called from his perch outside the hatch of the Clubmobile. Val was handing him down two packs, not waiting for Doug to answer. 

“Thanks Val,” Doug grinned, tipping his imaginary hat at her as he came back from where he was with Olive, the girl now wearing an oversize jacket that Val made a mental note to ask her about later. “You sure know me well.”

“Kind of my job, Dougie.”

He was about to respond, mouth open and eyes wide with what was sure to be a smart ass remark, when Chick Harding’s voice cut through their morning reprieve. The Colonel came marching across the grass, hands on his hips as he stopped in front of the truck. 

“Alright you lot, briefings about to start let’s go!”  

He waved both Ev and Doug away and into the hut, giving Jack a good natured shove in the same direction. He appraised Nash quickly, the new pilot taking one look at the Colonel and dashing off in the other direction without more than a wave goodbye to Helen. 

“Replacement?” Chick looked over his shoulder where Nash had run off, an amused look on his face. 

“Yes, Chicky,” Val sighed from the window. “His name is Nash.”

“Valencia…” he warned, all the annoyance of a dad who loved his daughter present as he looked up at her. 

His face softened as she placed his coffee on the ledge of the hatch, fixed perfectly, and a second cup for Red Bowman next to it. 

“Thank you.” he gave her a half sheepish smile, the brunette in the truck shaking her head at him even as she handed him two donuts. 

“That one’s for Red, and here, eat something for Christ sake.”

“We ate already.”

“Don’t lie to us, Chick, I was up early and I saw you and Bowman in the tower, not the mess hall.” Tattie turned on him, her own scowl present. 

“Fine, we’ll eat,” he sighed. “Thank you. Now, can I get you girls to close up the truck and come with me please?”

“What?” 

“Briefing hut, all of you, please.” 

“Chicky…”

“Miss Tattie, we’ll tell ya when you get inside. Now come on.”

Val turned to Tattie, her own face a mirror image, while Helen stood nervously on the grass. 

“Alright, you three, let’s close it up for now.” Tattie gestured to the girls, the confusion not ebbing as they followed Harding’s orders. 

“Take the dang dog on your way in, would ya? Don’t need him out here unsupervised.”

Val dusted off her jumpsuit before climbing down from the truck, looping her arm with Helen, who was still standing in place on the grass. Olive had run ahead to meet Benny at the door of the briefing hut to take Meatball from him. 

“You don’t think…” Helen’s voice was a whisper, and laced with nerves. “Do you think he knows about Nash and me?”

“Oh Helen, if he was mad about that, he wouldn’t tell you in the briefing hut.”

“I mean, I know we’re technically not supposed to have relationships with the men, but we see them every day!”

“Helen, if you think Red and Chicky don’t already know…” Val laughed, remembering how Red’s voice had boomed across the tannoy the night before, hollering for Dougie to get to bed. 

“Oh, Bowman has eyes in his ass!” Olive joined their conversation, now with Meatball dutifully at her side. 

“Eww!” Helen shuddered with a laugh.

“It’s a stupid rule anyway,” Tattie joined them, coming up on Helen’s other side. “How can they expect us not to get close to these boys!”

“Tattie Spaatz, defying the rules?” Val balked. “Why I never thought I’d see the day!”

“You hush,” she turned to her, voice stern but eyes glimmering with something mischievous. “Come on, let’s see what this is all about hmm?”

The girls entered the briefing hut, all passing by Red at the door as he greeted them with a tight smile. 

“Spaatz, DiRosano, Porter, Lewis,” he addressed them all by their last names, only rarely ever using their first names. “Come on in girls.”

They followed him further into the hut, the men around them talking amongst themselves. The chatter in the room filled the large space, all of them seemingly doing their best to ignore that a mission was quite literally looming overhead, and that tomorrow, some of these faces may not be here to laugh with. Val tried not to think about it too hard, especially with so many of the faces being her friends and more. 

“Okay, Chick, why are we here?” Tattie’s arms were folded under her bust, and suddenly it was General Spaatz’s daughter staring down Colonel Chick Harding, cigar wedged between his lips and all. 

“Need to make sure that dang mutt doesn’t get lost in here again.”

“You hardly need four of us to watch Meatball, he’s not that bad.”

“Alright, fine,” Chick sighed, beckoning the four of them closer. “Bowman, tell em.”

“This is a big one girls,” Red sighed. “And we’re not blind to the fact that some of you have gotten close to some of the men, and we feel it’s unfair to keep you in the dark.”

“How big?” Olive squeaked. 

“Big, Lewis. Real big.”

Olive nodded, the hand not holding Meatball’s leash grabbing at Val, her nails digging in unintentionally. 

“You know we’ll find out anyway, but you think it’s better if we hear it first hand.”

“Exactly.”

“It doesn’t lessen the worry, Red.” 

“No, Valencia, I suppose it doesn’t, but, somewhere along the way you four got under everyone’s skin here and the fellas all love ya, they respect the hell outta ya’s and well, Chick and I feel the same.”

“Chick Harding is going soft, girls.” Tattie smirked, but nodded at the man in front of her just the same. 

“I ain’t soft, Spaatz.” He groaned, cigar smoke pluming around him as he spoke. 

“Alright Chicky, you’re not soft,” she conceded. “Where do you want us to sit?”

“In the back, if you don’t mind.”

“Come on girls, let’s find some chairs hmm?”

“And no balls!” Chick called after them, prompting a 

shrill whine to erupt from Meatball, several of the men in the room turning to look at him, the rumble of laughter and the dog's name filling the room. 

Making her way towards the back with the girls, Val doesn’t register the presence of someone behind her until his voice cuts above the rest, loud and full of energy. 

“There she is! There’s the gal!” 

“My god, Curt, do you ever just, I don’t know, say hello like a normal person?”

“Now why would I do that?” He grinned, pulling her into a hug on the spot. 

“No you’re right, why would you.” She rolled her eyes, hugging him back regardless. 

“Hey, what are yous doing in here? This ain’t your usual spot.”

“Chicky wanted us in on this one,” her voice now lowered so that only he could hear her. “It’s big, and they don’t want us hearing anything second hand.”

“Well, you gals should be included! You’re damn important if ya ask me.”

“Thanks, Curt, but we’re still only Red Cross. I only know so much because Chicky can’t type to save his life.” 

“Yea well, yous should know more,” he grinned, pulling out his cigarettes. “And not just cause me and the rest of the fellas tell you.”

“Curt,” Olive joined them, the pilot throwing an arm over her shoulders in greeting. “Want me to save you a seat?

“Heya English,” he gave her a squeeze before letting her go. “Thanks, but Dickie’s got us chairs up front with your boys.”

“Ah, grand!” Olive gave his arm a friendly pat before tugging on Meatball’s lead to head back to the seats the girls were occupying. 

“I’ll see ya after, gal. Have a coffee ready for me!”

“Pain in the ass!” Val called after him as he walked away, taking the seat on the end of a row, Dickie to his right. 

Just as Dickie offered a wave from his spot, Val spotted Everett, Doug and Croz in the row behind them, Everett’s hazel eyes going wide at seeing her in the briefing room before spotting the other girls behind her. She shrugged and his brows furrowed, just as the officer at the door called for attention, and every single man in the room stood as Chicky made his way to the front with Red at his side. The girls quickly hurried to the four chairs at the back of the room, Val taking the seat next to Olive, who was trying to settle Meatball. The husky seemed annoyed that all of his friends were in one room and no one would play with him, and kept whining at Olive’s feet. At the front of the room, Chick Harding commanded attention, and Val couldn’t help but feel rooted to the spot as the whole room focused on him. Next to her, Olive was petting Meatball, shushing him as quietly as she could until finally, his head came to rest on her lap. 

“What’s up?” Val turned to her, her right hand scratching between his ears. 

“He’s just moping because all his friends are here and no one will play.”

At the mere mention of the word play, Meatball began huffing and whining again, looking between Olive and Val to see which one would start their game first. 

“Not now buddy,” Olive spoke in hushed tones, trying to keep him quiet. “After, I promise.”

“Meatball…” Val warned, trying her hand at quieting him down. “Stai zitto, questo è importante.”

Be quiet, this is important.

“Aww he’s just a baby,” Helen came from Olive’s other side, reaching for the dog who was now lapping up all the attention. “He doesn’t mean it.”

“Girls,” Tattie’s whisper fell over the three of them.  “Quiet, or Chicky is going to regret ever asking us in here.”

“Today, the mighty eighth will be sending up a max effort of three air task forces, totaling 376 heavy bombers and 240 fighters!” Chicky’s voice carried through the room, all of the men cheering like it was a football game. “That’s the largest air armada ever assembled in the history of mankind!”

Val caught the excitement from the corner of the room where her friends sat, both Everett and Doug, and Curt and Dickie shared a shout of excitement before focusing back on the Colonel at the front of the room. 

“We will be in the first task force, targeting a Messerschmitt 109 engine assembly plant in Regensburg,” he announced, the men around him scribbling notes. “The second and third task forces will hit the ball bearing factories in Schweinfurt, because no war machine moves without em!”

Val noticed that Chick looked proud, and it was a foreign expression to see on the man. Normally she’d see him grumbling and complaining about this or that, the dog, the coffee and what have you. But this, he seemed infinitely proud of his men, and the Hundredth. When he mentioned that there were an infinite number of lives they could save if this mission went off as planned, the men in the room fell into a hush, talking quietly amongst themselves, presumably to determine who might be leading this, and she couldn’t help but pick up rumbling of both the names Egan and Cleven the most. 

Chicky called for their attention, his arm gesturing to the curtain behind him which the Corporal dutifully pulled back, revealing a map, and a route that looked terribly long, at least to her untrained eye. Whistles and groans replaced the hushed awe of just moments ago, and she just picked up on Harry Crosby groaning oh boy as he caught sight of what he would surely have to navigate his crew through. 

“Bowman.”

Taking his cue, Red stepped in for Chick, coming to stand in front of the map before he began speaking, his New England accent filling the room as he addressed the men. 

“It’s a three punch combo,” he began, arm coming out to trace the first of three colored strings. “And the Luftwaffe will only be able to defend one of them!”

“Uh, Major?” Curt’s voice, quieter than everyone, especially Val was used to, interrupted Red Bowman’s speech. “Why’s that red line go all the way down through Africa?”

“Well, that is a characteristically astute question Curt, and I’ll get to that in a minute if you don’t mind.” 

“Yeah yeah, go on and laugh…” Curt groaned, sliding down in his seat as the room broke into peals of laughter. 

Val just managed to catch Everett leaning forward in his seat to flick the pencil from behind Curt’s ear in what could only be described as sibling banter, one pilot to another as he mumbled a drawn out  fuuuuck you to Curt before both of them turned to see her shaking her head in exasperation. Like a mother whose children had exhausted her, Val pointed up to the front of the room, making sure they both focused on what Red was still talking about- second task force turning around, rearming and refueling, enemy territory, ME109’s until finally, a single sentence put the whole room into near deafening silence. 

“You’re going to Africa, gentlemen.”

“Val… Val did he say Africa?”

“Yea, he said Africa, Ol…”

“Dear god,” the Brit whispered from her spot next to her, one hand gripping Val’s with such force, she could feel her leaving small crescents in the skin of her palm, while the other was still buried in Meatball’s fur. “Why…why Africa… it’s so far…”

“Olive, hey, chickie, calm down, it’s alright.”

“I don’t like this.” 

Olive was borderline shaking in her seat, her eyes wide as they continued to listen to Red talk about the boys landing in Africa and linking up with the 12th who had promised ice cold beer. A holiday. With the fog outside not letting up, Val couldn’t help but wonder exactly how Chick and Red expected the boys to get up in the air safely, never mind General LeMay and his plan for them. It just didn’t seem safe. Olive’s nerves seemed to confirm that, her fear now on full display in the back of the room. 

“Tattie…” Val whispered, leaning over towards her to pinch her arm. “Give me your flask.”

“Val…”

“Give it here, please.” She gestured to Olive, and Tattie handed it over to her after a single glance at the girl, her eyes softening. 

“Ol, drink.”

“What?”

“Come on, drink, it’ll settle your nerves.”

Olive takes the flask from her, taking a generous sip before passing it back to Val, who also takes a generous sip. When Tattie pulls it from her grasp with a roll of her eyes, she can’t help but wonder if what she suspects is going on between her and Jack Kidd has her just as rattled. Half expecting her to take a sip as well, Val watches as Tattie slips it back into her pocket before pulling out her cigarettes and lighting one. 

“Major Kidd will be command pilot in Blakely’s fort-” Chicky announced. 

“Oh god… they’re leading them all into this soup.” Val murmured, dropping her head back. 

“Major Egan will be riding with Captain Cruikshank as…reserve command pilot of the group.”

“What the hell is a reserve command pilot?” Helen furrowed her brows, her gentle expression turned somewhat sour. 

“I think it means Egan didn’t want to be left out.”

“When does he ever.” 

“Gentlemen, good luck, and I’ll see you in a couple of days. Dismissed!”

As the men in the room stand to exit, Tattie stands and begins leading the girls from the hut, and like ducks in a row, they follow her. Olive is behind Val, one hand holding Meatball’s lead and the other still gripping onto Val’s wrist; mostly so she didn’t get lost in the shuffle of bodies leaving the room. As they approach the door, she spots Ev waiting for her, arms folded over his chest, cigarette between his lips, cheeky grin on his face. 

“And why were you four in there?” He throws his arm over Val’s shoulder as she approaches, guiding her out of the hut as Dougie does the same with Olive. 

“Chicky invited us…”

“He did? Why?”

“Said we deserved to know about this one.” Her voice sounded small, and so unlike her, even to her own ears. 

“And now that you know?” Ev stopped just outside the truck, taking her hands in his. 

“It’s Africa, Everett…”

“Yeah,” he sighed, and could feel her anxiety over the situation rolling off her in waves. This is why he felt the way he did about her being in the briefing room the last time, except now, Colonel Harding had asked her to be in there and he could hardly fight it. “I can’t say I’m thrilled with the location either.”

“It’s bad enough when you’re up for a few hours, but this? Days?”

“Hey, come here,” guiding her off to the side of the truck, behind the open doors off the back, he hoped she’d tell him what was really eating at her. “Talk to me, what’s going on hmm?” 

She wasn’t sure if she should tell him about the dream from that morning. About how she dreamt of their future, their child, but that something -someone- was missing entirely from that almost perfect scenario. In telling him, would she be giving that nightmarish fear of losing her oldest friend an escape from her mind and setting it loose upon reality? Would it scare him? Make him more nervous than he already was? Or, would it give him more reasons to fight, and fly so safely and smoothly that he’d come back to her, and lead the rest of their friends home safely too? 

“Want you to take this,” she chose against the former, reaching into the collar of her blouse and instead, pulling out her new dog tags. “One for you and one for me.”

“You have tags now?”

“Got them this morning,” she confirmed, yanking the lower hanging one from the chain. “I can’t go up with you, so this is the next best thing.”

“You know I take you up with me every time, right?”

“In your heart, the same way Curt told me he takes me up with him, yes.”

“Yes, in my heart,” he grinned, taking the tag from her hand and swiftly pulling his own out from his collar. “But also, in the red braid you’ve so securely tied to my wrist.” 

He pulled his own extra tag from his chain, putting the one with her name in its place before handing her the one with his name. Blakely, Everett E. The significance of carrying each other's names wasn’t lost on her, and she knew that if he was giving her back the same weight that her name carried to him, with his own, that there was stock to be taken in that dream. More stock in the good, and less in the fears she was projecting in losing someone she loved.  

“Also, I do take you with me,” he tucked his tags back into his shirt, before pulling out a small photograph from the breast pocket of his flight suit and handing it to her. “See? You go everywhere with me, baby.”

It was a photo she hadn’t ever seen of herself before, but could tell you exactly where it had been taken. The night in the officers club after Curt had been announced safe in Scotland- one too many cocktails had her perched comfortably in Ev’s lap, but he wasn’t in the picture. It was just her, and she was looking over at someone else and grinning, her bottom lip snugly between her teeth as she tried not to cackle with laughter, her eyes dancing with mirth. 

“When did you sneak this?” She looked up at him, the picture between two of her fingers in place of her usual cigarette as she waved it in his face, eyes and lips mimicking the frozen image of herself. 

“Don’t you worry about when,” Ev plucked it back from her, tucking it safely away over his heart, and then pulled her close. “Just remember, you’re with me every single day, even if I’m not on the ground.”

“Please,” pressing her face into his chest, breathing him in, committing it to memory. “Please don’t do anything stupid, and protect each other, all of you.”

“You know I won’t get reckless,” he pressed his lips to the crown of her head, uncaring of the hairspray she had set it with. “I’ve got too much at stake here on the ground to risk getting reckless.”

“As much as it pains me to say it, listen to Jack.”

“I will… you behave here while I’m gone, yeah? No getting up to mischief with the girls.”

“No promises.” She grinned, peeking up at him before standing on her toes to press her lips to his.  

“Yeah, even in this soup I saw that coming a mile away,” shaking his head, he kissed her back, knowing that time was ticking away and his crew would be heading for the hardstand soon. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

Pulling away, they turned to head back to the front of the truck so that she could carry on with work and he could get his coffee before leaving, when Curt rounded the corner wild eyed and looking for trouble. 

“There ya are! Oh, Val!” He called in a singsong voice. “You promised me a coffee!”

“You demanded coffee,” giving his shoulder a shove, he let out a y laugh at her fiery behavior. “There’s three other girls in the truck, Curtis.” 

“Curtis?! Ouch!”

“Serves you right.”

“I’d like to be served coffee, maybe a donut for good measure.”

“You are a pain in my ass, you know that?”

“Yeah I know,” he grinned. “Are you good? Is she good?”

Yeah, I’m okay,” Val nodded. “Are you okay?”

“Oh yeah, I’m good… got my bracelet and everything,” lifting his wrist; he wiggled it so both Val and Ev could see . “It broke the other day but I tied it back on.”

“CURT! No! You’re not supposed to, you know that!”

“It’s fine, gal!”

“I don’t have time to make you a new one…”

“You don’t gotta, it’s fine!”

She knew the distress on her face was evident when Everett stepped between her and Curt. She watched as he dropped a hand to Curt’s shoulder fixing him with a look that said he ought to know better than to mess around with what Val considered to be sacred. 

“Curt, even I know you don’t mess around with that.”

“Ah, it’s not the first time I tied it back on myself, won’t be the last,” Curt grinned, slipping out from under Ev’s grip and heading to the window of the Clubmobile. “Now how about that coffee for the road?”

With a roll of her eyes at Curt and a quick kiss to Ev’s cheek, Val climbs back into the truck where Helen is pouring coffee and passing out smokes and snacks to the boys lined up dutifully at the window. Tattie is a few feet away on the grass trying to pry Olive and Dougie apart with a soft smile, knowing they both have jobs to do regardless of the nervous energy swirling around the base. She hears Olive tell Doug that she’ll fix him a snack for the road, and sets about doing the same for Everett and the rest of the Just A Snappin crew. 

“Ev, what do you and the crew need for the trip?” She leans out the window, handing him another coffee and a donut. She knows that like many of the boys, he’s not the biggest fan of the powdered eggs, and usually chooses not to eat them before a flight. “Curt! Get out of the truck!” 

“How’d you even know it was me?” He grumbled, jumping down from the back of the truck to join the rest of the guys on the grass. DeMarco, who had been walking towards the truck with his crew, turned and raised his coffee in a salute, laughing at the put out look on Curt’s face.  

“Busted, Biddick!” Benny shouted. 

“Okay, okay. You,” Val gestured to Curt, holding out two coffees, and gesturing with a nod of her head to the two donuts on the window. “Take these, and the donuts, they’re for you and Dickie.”

“Thanks gal! Love you!” He grinned,grabbed his provisions, and blew her a cheeky kiss before running off to join his crew, uncaring of the coffee sloshing over the side of his cup. 

“A mess,” she shook her head. “Now, what do you need, handsome?” 

“You gave me smokes before,” he smiles, lifting the coffee to his lips. “Not sure what the rest of my boys need though, and I know Olive has Dougie all squared away.”

“Well, take another pack of smokes, and if the crew needs anything, send em over.”

“Thanks baby,” he grinned, turning to face the rest of the men on his crew with a soft authority that Val knew was the reason they all respected him so much. “Alright boys, if you need anything, go see Val so she can set you up!”

————————————————————

“Meatball, no! Uh, Olive a little help please?” 

Looking out the window, Val found Helen on the ground, Meatball pawing at her excitedly as he mistook her securing him to the pole for playtime. The poor girl was dusting off his fur and trying not to sneeze as Olive came around the front to help her, laughing as she pulled the husky from Helen’s lap. 

“Helen, you know how he gets…”

“He only listens to you and DeMarco.” She grumbled, wincing as Meatball let loose a howl at the mere mention of his favorite human’s name. 

“Oh now look what you started,” Val groaned. “You know saying Benny’s name gets him all wild.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Helen sighed, standing and trying to get all the grass and husky fur off her uniform. “Meatball, he can’t hear you from here boy!”

“He doesn’t know that.” Olive chuckled, securing the leash just as a jeep came to a screeching halt, startling the girls and the dog. 

“Garcia,” Val addressed the man behind the wheel, lighting a cigarette and coming around the front of the truck to join Helen and Olive. “What can we do for you?”

“Just stopping by to let you know the fellas have got a thirty minute delay.”

“Not surprising in this shit.” She gestured to the fog still swirling around them.”

“If you girls wanted to drop them another hot coffee and cheer em up… maybe say goodbye again.” He suggested, gesturing subtly to the empty seats in his jeep. 

“Say less!” Olive grinned, unhooking Meatball and guiding him towards the jeep. 

“Give me two minutes, let me put a bag together for them.” Val smiled, turning back towards the truck. She had two coffees and a bag of donuts ready in record time, jumping into the jeep with Olive as Tattie and Helen waved them off from the Clubmobile with a smile. 

“Step on it Garcia!” Val calls up to him with a laugh. “They’ll take the news better if it comes from us!”

“You got that right, DiRosano,” he laughed. “They sure like looking at you two more than they like looking at me!”

Without another word, Garcia steps on the gas, the jeep and its occupants beginning their journey through the mist. Meatball whined from his spot between Olive and Val, no doubt picking up the scents of all the fellas who had been driven out the same way on their trucks only a short while ago. Even with the headlights on, the road ahead was barely visible, and Val wasn’t sure how Garcia was managing it, maybe it was muscle memory, but she just hoped he got them to the hardstand in one piece. 

“It’s a real pea-souper, this one.” Garcia huffed, turning to avoid the hardstand of another fort that Val wasn’t able to identify. “Do you reckon they’ll call it off?” Olive practically begged, hoping for the answer she wanted to hear. “Not a chance, Lewis,” he sighed a bit apologetically. “This is a big one. Brass are taking a lotta risks and–well, I’d better zip it.” “It’s nothing I won’t find out in a few weeks when I’m typing reports for Chicky,” Val retorts, reaching around to pet Meatball. “No need to keep it quiet.”

“Sorry, Val, force of habit to zip my lips and all…”

“It’s fine, Garcia, we know. We were in the briefing room this morning.”

“Yeah? God, The Brass must really like you ladies… I think everyone on this base likes you ladies actually.”

Not sure what else to say, the trio continues to drive in silence, Garcia seeming to have run out of polite conversation within a few moments. The brakes screech as they come to a stop, and Val looks up to find the all too familiar silhouette of Just A Snappin looming in the distance, the plane somehow even more intimidating now, as opposed to the night she had been out here with Everett, and only the headlights of a jeep illuminated her. The fog almost completely covered it, and even though she could just see the nose in the distance, it felt tremendous. 

“Alright you three, this is your stop.”

“Thanks Garcia!”   

Jumping from the jeep, careful of the coffees in her hands, donuts having been passed to Olive earlier, she watches as Meatball bounds away into the mist, the dog gone in a flash. 

“Damnit, where’d he go!”

“Probably to find DeMarco…”

“Great, that’ll be fun later.”

“Maybe Kenny and Wink will find him before we do.” Olive chuckled, looping her arm through Val’s as they began walking closer to the fort. 

“Chickie, I can see through this haze just as well as you can.” “This is so we don’t lose each other.” Olive laughs in return, resting her head on Val’s shoulder for a short second. “Ol, that’ll never happen. I promise.” Val smiled, though Olive couldn’t see it, and dropped her head to her friends for a moment. 

They walk silently, arm in arm and careful not to bump a tire, or the wing as their steps take them closer to the fort. Val catches a glance of Olive trying, in vain, to wrap her jacket around her with her free hand, and realizes she’s never seen Olive wearing it before. It’s too big for the other woman, and littered in various patches and insignias. Yes, it must belong to Douglass. 

“Dougie’s?” Val asks, gesturing with her elbow to the jacket. . 

“Yeah! Sewed all these on himself,” Olive beams at her. “Ain't it neat?”

“He…he did…Sewed…himself?” Val practically balks, turning to Olive with her eyes wide. 

“Yeah!”

“Ol, I've been sewing all of his patches and clothes!” Val exclaims, green eyes wide. “Ever since Ev and I started seeing each other, I’ve taken care of all the guys in their fort.”

“Oh?”

“Wait till I get my hands on him...” She sighed as they approached the fort, ducking under the wing to find both their men, and select members of the crew laying about on the hardstand. 

“Well lookie here!” Dougie exclaimed, standing as he spotted the girls approaching. Ev, who had been leaning back against the wheel, scrambling to stand upon spotting Val. “What are you two doing all the way out here?”

“Garcia wanted us to share some news.” Olive grinned, glancing at Val. 

“Yeah? Well, let’s have it then.”

“Thirty minute delay!” They both yelled at the same time, Olive doing a little wiggle of her hands and hips to try and make it entertaining. 

Both boys immediately fell into laughter, even Charlie Via joining in from where he was still on the ground. Somehow, Val knew it wasn’t just about making their boys laugh, but the whole crew. 

“Is The Clubmobile serving snacks and putting on a show now, Maude?” Everett grinned, throwing an arm over Val’s shoulder as she kissed him on the cheek, his coffee still in her hand. 

“Hey, get it for free while you can.” Olive winked, taking Dougie’s coffee from Val and handing it over. “Olive and The Clubmobile Gals,” Val smiled. “It’s got some jazz to it!”

“You gonna be a star, Maude? Take care of all of us?”

“You bet, Ernest.” She laughs as Dougie wraps his arms around her waist and gives her a squeeze before stopping in his tracks at the wild look Val is giving him. 

“Uh, Val?”

“I’ve got a bone to pick with you James Douglass…”

“Uhm, can you leave my bones? I need to drop bombs in a few hours and well, I need them.”

“Oh, you’re in trouble baby.” Olive titters, hand covering her mouth in an attempt to hide her giggle. 

“You! Sewing!”

“Oh… yeah, heh… well, I know when I’ve been caught.”

“Dougie! I’ve been sewing all your clothes and patches for months now!”

“I know,” he laughs at Val’s annoyed expression, and she can see the gears turning behind his eyes. “It just makes me feel safer when you do it.”

Val’s face softens immediately, falling back against Ev once more as Olive lets out an aww at Doug’s confession. How could she argue with that? 

“Aw, darling, that's so sweet!” Olive kisses his cheek softly, unable to hide the affection for him in that moment. 

“The puppy dog eyes work every time.” Doug smiled down at her, thinking that Val was preoccupied with Everett. 

“You’re a little shit, Doug!” She hollered from where she stood, Ev pulling her aside so that they could have a quiet moment, while Olive and Doug did the same. 

“So…Garcia really drove you two all the way out here?”

“He did. He thought you might need another hot coffee, or a kiss goodbye.”

“He said that?”

“Well, not in such a way, but, yes.”

“So you brought me hot coffee and a kiss hmm?”

“I did! Are you happy?”

“Well, all I got was a kiss on the cheek, but maybe if you-”

Val wasted not a moment longer before leaning up on her toes to reach Everett’s lips, neither caring if her Victory Red stained his own lips, she just wanted to feel closer to him. 

“Better?”

“Much better,” holding her against his chest, she felt him press his nose into her hair, and just barely heard the sound of him taking a deep breath, as if he was committing the scent of her to memory. “You know I love the real thing.”

“You mean my lipstick smudged all over you.” 

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“Fresh,” she wiped at his lip with her thumb, her movements slowing as she tried to force herself to believe that he would come back to her. “I can’t send you off to Africa with lipstick all over your mouth.”

“No I don’t suppose it would be a good look would it.”

“Bring me back something?” She posed the question lightly, casually, as if he had said he was going to the corner store and she asked him to get her an ice cream bar. 

“Not sure what they have in Africa, but, I’ll see what I can rustle up.”

“Thanks handsome.” She winked, and was about to kiss him again when the sound of someone approaching caused her to stop short. 

“I thought I heard yous girls!”

“Hi Curt,” she turned and flashed him an impossibly tight smile, and he knew he had just interrupted a potential kiss, like any good brother would. “Yes, you heard us.”

“What are ya doing out here hmm?”

“Garcia drove us out so we could tell the boys about the delay.”

“Jeez Blakely, you get the news from two pretty ladies and I gotta hear it from Garcia? What gives!”

“Get yourself a pretty Red Cross girl, Curt, and maybe you won’t have to see Garcia every time there’s a delay,” Ev laughed, slapping his friend on the shoulder before walking away. “I’ll give you both a minute, yeah?”

“Thanks honey.” 

“Yeah, thanks honey!” Curt called after him, only to be met with Ev Blakely’s middle finger. 

“You deserved that.” Val gave him a gentle shove. 

“Yea I know,” Curt grinned, wrapping his arm around her waist and hugging her close. “This is some soup…”

“Reminds me of the fog that rolls in off the water back home.”

“Always spooked me as a kid.”

“Still gives me the chills now…”

The pair stood there under the cover of Just A Snappin’s wing, silent as the mist swirled around them, trying to find something in the distance that wasn’t obscured in haze. She wasn’t sure how to say goodbye for this particular flight. Usually, Curt would snatch his coffee from her, give her a cheeky goodbye and run to the truck, much like he had done earlier. But this time, that dream was weighing on her again, and she didn’t know if it was just a fear, or a premonition. 

“What’s eating ya?”

“Hmm?”

“I know when somethings bugging ya, so come on, let’s hear it.”

“It’s nothing,” she dismissed his prying, not sure how he’d react if she told him. “Silly, really.”

“Tell me, cause I ain't gonna be able to go up there knowing you’re down here upset over something.”

“I had a really strange dream last night…”

“Okay, well, I bet it’s not all that strange,” he softened at the expression on her face. “You wanna tell me about it?”

“It was like, I was watching my life in front of me, after the war. There was a house, and Everett, and…”

“And?”

“And a baby…”

“Gal, that ain’t anything to be so worried about! That sounds like a pretty good life to me!”

“It was… until you weren’t there.”

“I wasn’t?”

“No, at least, I don’t think so… Ev was talking to the baby, and I just remember that he said that I missed you a lot, and that sometimes I got sad.”

“Hey, if you’re worried that you and Blakely are gonna go and tie the knot and I ain’t gonna be around anymore, well, I got news for ya…”

“You better be around, Curt,” she turned to him, eyes filled with tears she was afraid to shed in front of him. “Nothing stupid up there, okay? I mean it!”

“I promise ya, I’m coming back.”

“I love you, you pain in the ass…”

“I love ya too…”

She pulled him close, arms wrapped tightly around his neck as she completely disregarded his gear, mae west, and jacket to hold her friend just a little longer. For once, Curt didn’t try and joke with her, or brush her off for being  worried. The weight of this mission, the length of it, the time away, it had everyone a little on edge. So he hugged her back just as tight. The way he did when she had her heart broken back home, or when her Nonno passed away when they were teenagers; the way he always would for as long as they had each other. 

“I wish you had let me braid you a new bracelet…” She mumbled into his neck. 

“This one’s still good, I know it,” he gave her a gentle squeeze before pulling away to see her face. “Cause you made it, and it’s got all the eye-talian luck in the world.”

“My mother would crack you good for that.”

“What? Tying it back on, or saying Italian the way I did?”

“Both.” She laughed, wiping at her eyes. 

“Hey, wipe those eyes, alright? I’ll be back before ya know it.”

“You better, because it takes too long to break in a new best friend.”

“You got that right gal…” 

He hugged her one final time before stepping back, and with a wink, disappeared into the mist. 

She sucked in a sharp breath as he walked away, only turning back towards the fort once she could no longer see him. Even the way he said goodbye had her feeling eerie. Christ, she hated this god damn soup. She tried to swipe at her eyes so no one would know she had been crying, but it was no use as Everett stood from his spot on the ground to meet her halfway. 

“Okay?”

“Nope,” she admitted, knowing that he had seen her face and it would be useless to try and hide it from him. “But, I will be. I just…”

“You say goodbye?”

“It sounds so final.”

“It’s not,” he reassured her, hugging her against his side as he walked her back towards their friends. “It’s just temporary.”

“Yea, Africa and back.” She groaned. 

“Come on, come sit.”

“Ev…”

“I’ve got a riddle? Would that cheer you up?”

“A riddle?”

“Yup!” 

He takes his previous spot on the ground next to Doug, gently tugging her down until she’s sitting between his spread legs, her back to his front; the two of them fit snugly together like a puzzle piece. Just as he’s about to speak, Dougie raises a hand to stop him, gesturing to Croz who’s laying next to them, head propped up on his bag and briefcase, crush cap covering his face. 

“Let him sleep!” Val hisses, knowing that he’d need his rest just as much as the rest of them, if not more with his airsickness. 

“Nah.” Doug grinned wickedly before furiously tapping on the navigator's leg to wake him. 

Croz grumbles and wakes with a light snort, his brow furrowed and face painted in annoyance as he spots Doug grinning next to him. 

“What, Doug?” “Ev’s gonna tell us a riddle!” “You woke me up for a riddle?” “I figured your brain could use the exercise.” Dougie teased him, the girls laughing as Crosby swatted at him.

“Alright, fine,” Harry sighed over dramatically. “Go on, Blakely, the floor is yours.”

Ev takes a drag from his Lucky Strike before beginning, clearing his throat and indulging in the dramatics for the sake of his audience before he speaks. “You’re on the way to purgatory–” “Purgatory?” Olive cuts him off, eyes wide. “Yes, Maude, purgatory,” he nods. “You’re on the way to purgatory; one road goes to Valhalla, the other goes to Hell, damnation.”

“Uh huh?” Croz leans forward, his tired face now clouded with confusion and curiosity.

“On each of the roads, is a goblin-”

“A goblin?” Olive cuts in again, trying to stifle a giggle. “Ernest, where is this going?”

“If you’ll let me get through more than one line, English, you'll find out,” he sighs, making a face at her. “Anyway! One goblin always tells the truth, the other is a tricky little fucker, he always lies.”

“An imp!” Olive chuckles, catching Val’s eye.

“Birichino,” she offers up, winking at Ev. “That's what Ma calls Curt.”

“What’s the one question that you need to ask, that’s gonna tell you the right way to go?” Ev finished, pulled Val closer so he could rest his chin on her shoulder. 

“Would you ask them which is the good goblin?” Olive turned to Ev after a moment of pondering. 

“I was about to say that!” Croz crowed, frisbeeing his crush cap at her with a laugh.  

“You snooze, you lose, Harry!” Olive grinned as she threw the cap back at him. 

Val watched her friend's playful banter; Croz feigning injury at Olive’s throwing of his hat, while Dougie held her close and nuzzled into her for as long as he could. Behind her, Ev was laughing, his grip on her tight as he held her close and continued to soak up every moment he could on the ground with them. 

“Okay, okay! I’ve got one!” Doug announced, grin wide as he caught Olive’s eye. 

“You have a riddle?” Val raised her brow at him, her fingers fumbling in Ev’s pocket for his lighter as she placed a cigarette between her lips .  

“Yup!”

“Well then, regale us with your riddle, Doug!” She grins, passing the now lit cigarette over to Olive. 

“What's the difference between a hippo, and a–”

“And a zippo?” Ev finished with a laugh. “Dougie, we've heard that one a thousand times now, pal.”

Even though they’ve all heard the joke multiple times, Olive begins to giggle, which makes Doug smile. 

“Yeah, but that’s why I tell it,” he grins. “To see the prettiest smile in East Anglia.”

“I love it,” Olive titters, reaching up to kiss him. “Never stop telling it, okay?”

“I know you do,” he winks, kissing her back just as lovingly. “And I love y–”

“Hey! That a flare?” Croz abruptly ends their sweet moment, his eyes narrowing as he tries to make sense of the blurry green light in the distance that's now plummeting to the ground. 

“Time to go fellas.” Ev commands with a groan, his crew jumping up at his tone. 

He stands, pulling Val with him, and immediately pulls her in and kisses her. They’re vaguely aware of his crew scrambling to get up and into the fort around them, shouts of men and the sound of gear being chucked into the belly of Just A Snappin as he held her for just a moment longer. 

“Come home, please.” Val whispered as they broke for air, foreheads pressed together. 

“Nothing could keep me from you,” he pressed his cheek to hers before his lips pressed to the shell of her ear. “When I get back…”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… I’ll find us somewhere.”

“I love you, and not just because…” 

“I know. I Love you too,” he pressed his lips to hers once more, her arms tightening around him until she’s sure she could hear his ribs clicking. “Now go, it’s going to get busy down here in a minute. And windy.”

Pulling away, she gave him one final squeeze before she joined Olive at the edge of the hardstand, the pair of them immediately gripping onto each other's hand, watching as Doug, and finally Everett, pulled themselves up and into the fort. It wasn’t until they could see Doug in the nose and Ev in the cockpit that they wavers  before they began to walk back to the Clubmobile. Helen and Tattie were no doubt wondering where they were. 

“You heard that, right?” Olive’s grasp on her hand tightening. “What Dougie said before the flare went up, you heard it?”

“Oh, I heard it, Val giggles, stopping and turning on the spot as the sound of Meatballs’ harness jingles in the distance before he joins them. “He loves you!”

“I didn't think–” Olive fumbles for the leash, grasping it finally and holding on tight. 

“Olive Lewis!” She pulls on her friend's arm, the Brooklyn of her accent really adding an extra umph to Olive’s name. “I will give you a slap.”

“I'm not… I just…” 

“We can all see how much he loves you and how much you love him too!” Val sighs. “You'd have to be blind to not notice it.”

“Are we really that obvious?”  

“Limpido come il giorno.”

“In English, please.” Olive rolls her eyes. 

“It’s as clear as day.” Val winks, continuing on with their walk. 

—————————————————————-

By the time the girls returned to the truck, all the forts had gone up and Thorpe Abbotts was bathed in almost near silence. If you didn’t count Meatball barking as soon as he saw Helen and Tattie sitting outside. Helen is coughing over a cigarette again, while Tattie puffs away unbothered, Olive wasting no time in stomping over to Helen and snatching the cigarette from her. 

“Would you stop!”

“I can’t seem to get the hang of it.” Helen sighs, not even fighting Olive. 

“Then don’t, silly! You’re only making yourself sick!”

Helen is about to reply when the sound of a group approaching behind the Clubmobile get louder, and Rosie and his crew break through the fog, some of the men kidding with each other until they spot the four women. Nash immediately breaks away from his friends to join Helen, the brunette suddenly no longer worries about arguing with Olive over the cigarettes. Rosie stops by the truck, Tattie now inside as she peers down at him, while Pappy has gravitated to Olive, pulling Speas with him. 

“Hiya boys!” Tattie calls down to them, cigarette in hand as she picks up what’s left of the morning’s donuts and brings them to the window. “Last few donuts are yours if you want them!”

“Thanks Tattie.” Rosie smiles up at her, shaking his head as he spots Nash already engaged in deep conversation with Helen. 

Val is in the middle of listening to Pappy go on about how he’s already written to his mother to tell her about his long lost cousin, Olive, when Tattie yells from the window of the Clubmobile with a smile. 

“Hey girls! Whaddya say we name this ole girl,” she pats the side of the truck. “A lot of other Clubmobiles in England are naming their trucks.”

“Yeah? Where’d you hear that, Tat?” Val yelled back. 

“Got a copy of The Sinker,” she clarified, a newsletter that was put together by Red Cross gals for Red Cross gals. “A couple of the other Red Cross girls are naming their trucks, thought we should too!”

“What should we name it?” Helen turned from her conversation with Nash just as Val and Olive walked over to join them, Pappy and Speas right behind. 

“What about something to do with the state you girls are from?” Pappy offered. 

“Pappy, really?” Olive turned to him, arms folded over her chest. “I don’t have a state.”

“Oh, right…”

“Tat? Any suggestions?”

“Hmm, ‘Do-Nut Enter?”

“What about All Things Nice?” Helen offered with a shrug. “We’ve got the sugar on the donuts, Val’s the spice, we’re all things nice!”

“Why thank you Helen!”

“Olive, any ideas?” Helen turned to her just as she moved to give Meatball a little love, the husky whining in protest of Helen’s suggested name, his head lolled to the side as Olive got his favorite spot behind his ears. 

“I got nothing,” she sighed. “My brain is fried.”

“That would be the lack of sleep,” Tattie fixed her with a look and a wink, the woman giving way to the fact that she knew Olive wasn’t sleeping well as of late. “I’ve got my eye on you, English.”

“I’ve got it! Something to do with Meatball!” Val exclaimed, eyes bright as the dog perked back up at the mention of his name. “Yes, you, you silly dog…”

“But what?” Olive looked between them, brows furrowed as she tried to come up with something. 

“What about Spaghetti n’ Meatball!” Val grinned, eyes bright as she turned to survey her friends for their reaction. 

“Oh, that’s precious!” Olive practically squealed, looking between everyone else. “Don’t you all think?” 

“Spaghetti n’ Meatball it is.” Tattie grinned with a soft smile and a shake of her head, Helen readily agreeing with a bright smile. 

They had corralled Kenny and Wink into helping them paint the side of the Clubmobile with the promise of hot coffee and a fresh batch of donuts. Billy and Sammy had followed them back to the truck when they found out that they were going to see Miss Val and Miss Olive, the promise of donuts making the two boys run at the speed of light. They had settled with Meatball almost immediately, the Husky basking in all the extra attention he was getting, while the boys got to work on painting the new name on their Clubmobile. The girls had sent Rosie and Pappy off in search of something that could be used as a ribbon- if we’re going to do it might as well do it right- while Nash had stayed glued to Helen’s side as she cleaned up inside the truck with Val. 

“Miss Val?” she looked down and saw Sammy was looking up at her. Ev liked to tease her that little Sammy had a crush on her. 

“Yes Sammy? How can I help you?” She grinned with a flourish, making sure that she paid him a little extra attention just to see him smile. 

“Could we have another coffee like this morning, please?”

“More coffee, hmm?” She pretended to ponder it, looking around the inside of the truck to see if there was anything left for them, when she spotted a D bar off to the side, and some milk that would end up being tossed if it wasn’t finished. “How about I make you something else? Something better than coffee?”

“There’s something better than coffee?” Billy had joined him, abandoning his post next to Meatball. 

“When I was your age, absolutely!”

“What is it?”

“Hot chocolate,” she winked, picking up the candy bar and waving it in front of her face. “Best thing in the world.”

“COOL!” They shouted, and she knew that they would take anything she made for them, simply because they loved her and the other girls so much. 

So while Val set about warming the milk and making a treat for the boys, both of them dutifully back on either side of Meatball, Kenny came up to the truck. Wiping his hands on his coveralls, he snatched a donut from the tray on the window, popping it in his mouth with enough exaggerated flair that had Val shaking her head. 

“Hey! You didn’t ask Miss Val!” Billy looked up at Ken. 

“That’s alright, me and Miss Olive have an agreement.”

“What do you mean you have an agreement?” Val looked down at him as she ceased breaking apart the candy to mix with the warm milk. “Olive, what does he mean?”

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” she brushed her off. “Just Kenny being Kenny.” 

“Yeah?”

“It’s nothing!”

“Okay, I’m sorry…” 

The topic is quickly dropped as Helen and Tattie come back to the truck trailing what looks like toilet paper, mischief in their eyes, as Rosie and Pappy trailed behind them looking like the accomplices Val was positive they had been. 

“We have a ribbon!”

“We have toilet paper…” Val laughed. 

“It’s the best we could do.” Tattie laughed, her and Helen stretching it from one side of the truck to the other. 

‘I feel like I committed treason…” Pappy shook his head, eyes downcast. 

“I doubt you committed treason, Pappy,” Val laughed, coming out of the truck with the drinks for the boys, just as Chicky approached the Clubmobile. “If anything you got up to no good.”

“Alright girls, who’s twenty-two sheet ration did you take for this?” He drawls, cigar in hand as he gestures to the toilet paper ribbon. 

“Yours, sir,” Tattie grins at him, knowing that he won’t say anything as she gives him a cheeky smile. “On three…”

Tattie gestures for Chicky to “cut the ribbon” on their official ceremony, but just as she gets to three and he reaches to rip the toilet roll, Meatball jumps up from where he’s been sitting and tears into the toilet paper, wrestling the sheets to the ground with a growl. 

“Meatball!” Everyone groans, peals of laughter spilling out into the open as the husky looks terribly pleased with himself. Even Chicky gives the dog a laugh, the moment seeming to be just what they all need after the morning. 

—————————————————

The Officers Club is practically empty, and it sends a chill through Val as she looks around the room. There’s a few men milling about, and the band is only a handful of men tonight, the music low and slow simply to fill the silence. Chicky and Red are off by the bar, the pair of them deep in conversation, as the girls take up their usual spot, Rosie and Pappy, Nash and Speas filling the seats that were usually occupied by Everett and Doug and the rest of their friends. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Rosie and his boys- quite the opposite as he filled her with this familiarity that only came with home- but she would have preferred that the four new faces filled in the gaps with the faces currently somewhere in Africa. 

On top of all the anxiety and worry, Olive seemed to be on edge and she couldn’t pinpoint why. Granted, Doug being so far away and for more than their usual mission time was contributing to it, as she felt very similar with Everett being gone, but this was something else. This was something she wasn’t saying, and that worried her just as much as the boys being gone. Olive had gone pale before turning to face the boys at their table, the words seeming to confirm to Val that there was in fact, a secret. 

“Fellas, sorry to be a buzzkill but, I need to talk to the girls,” the words are shaky, and if at all possible, Olive turns even paler. “Alone.” “Sure thing, Miss Olive.” Rosie gives her a gentle smile, standing from his seat before gesturing for the other three men to follow him over to the bar. Pappy remains seated, arms crossed over his chest as he smiles at her, looking between Olive and the rest of the girls. 

“You too, Cousin Pappy.” “What? Why!” He protests, and Val can see Olive’s nerves turning into upset. “Because, it’s private.” She starts, gently trying to get him to leave the table. “But, we’re family!” “It’s girl stuff!” The words come out harsh, and Val sees the moment Olive realizes it, a deep sigh leaving the girl as she pinches two fingers at the bridge of her nose. 

“Say no more…” He grimaces, the thought of that alone enough to send him running for the bar and away from the table of women. 

“Okay, are you going to tell us what’s bothering you?” Tattie lights a cigarette but never falters in fixing Olive with that concerned look that seems to come second nature to her. “You’ve been off all day.” “Well, it’s just uhh…” “Is it the mission? The boys being away for longer than usual? I know this is a few days, and the first time you’ve really worried but-” Olive cuts her off with a shake of her head, the curls Val had pinned for her earlier bouncing vigorously “No, it’s not the mission,” she gasps, unable to catch her breath before speaking again. “There’s something–oh, Jesus Christ…” 

“Something, what?” Helen leans across the table, eyes wide. 

“I need to tell you something about me, about my life, and I’m worried - terrified - that you all won’t believe me.” “We’ve heard it all, Ol,” Helen laughs, sipping her cocktail. “Oh, I doubt you’ve heard this, Helen.” “Christ sake!” Val yells, gently kicking Olive’s shin. “Spit it out, English!”

“Right, well,” with a deep breath, she turns to Tattie, giving the woman her full attention. “Tattie, you remember how I, quote, appeared suddenly?” “Yes, out of thin air apparently.” “It’s because I was on the hardstand that day. Because I fell out of a fort.” “What were you doing in a fort, Ol?” Helen places her drink down, her brow softly furrowed in confusion.

The girls watch as Olive takes a deep breath in, her face riddle with fear as the next sentence falls from her lips.

“I was in a fort because that’s how I got here,” she whispered, wringing her hands together. “I’m not from here, from this time.” “W-what?” Val feels the confusion begin to fill her, and something else she can’t quite place bubbling beneath the surface. “What do you mean you’re not…” 

“I’m from the future,” Olive whispers again, her eyes falling to her hands. “I’m from the year two thousand and twenty one.”

“Excuse me?” Val balks, green eyes wide. 

“In my time, I climbed into a model fort because I thought I heard a dog barking for help in there and I fell out, here.” “Olive–” Helen is staring at her in awe, unsure of what else to say, while Tattie simply watches as what appears to be a weight the size of a B-17 falls from Olive’s shoulders. “Does anyone else know?” Val demands, and for the first time, she sees Olive shrink back from her, the worry only growing. “Kenny, and now Benny.” Olive nods, her gaze never leaving her hands. “Before me?!” Val cries, and that something else she had felt bubbling beneath the surface reveals itself to be sadness. “I thought we were friends, Olive.” “We are!” she yells in response as Val stands, tears filling her green eyes, and marches  towards the door. “I didn’t know what else to do!”

She’s vaguely aware of Tattie quietly telling Olive not to follow her as she breeches the door and meets the cool night air. The sounds of the club fall silent as the door shuts behind her and she continues on until she reaches the Red Cross hut. There’s no one to walk her back, and almost no one milling about outside to stop and talk to, which gets her back faster than normal. When she’s inside, the door shut, it dawns on her that for the first time all day, she’s alone. 

“Sorry Meatball…” 

The husky is curled up on her bed, head on his paws as he looks up at her, immediately sensing that something isn’t right with one of his girls. He lets out a whine as she drops down onto the bed to curl up with him, her hands burying themselves in his fur just to stay busy while she tries to stave off the tears she knows are trying to fight their way out. How could Kenny and Benny come before her? Before Dougie, even? And how true was it all really? The future… it didn’t seem possible and yet, something in her gut told her that Olive wasn’t lying about it. It was the part that made the least amount of sense, and should have had her more angry than she was, wanting answers and explanations, but it didn’t matter now. What mattered was that Val had thought for the first time she had a best friend that wasn’t, well, Curtis Biddick. Another girl she could confide her deepest secrets and dreams with, gush over her boyfriend with, but the world  hadn’t seen fit to that. It had been made perfectly clear to her that Olive felt different than she did, if Val hadn’t been privy to one of her secrets, when she had divulged one of her biggest to her not even 48 hours prior. 

“Can I come in?” Olive’s head comes around the door frame, her knuckles gently rapping against the doorframe even as she opens it. .

“It’s a free country.” Val’s tone is sulky, voice muffled as she presses her face into Meatball’s fur. She catches Olive’s hesitation before she decidedly sits on the bed across from hers. 

“I’m sorry,” Olive’s just as quiet as she is. “I wanted to tell you, I just–” “Just what?” Val snaps, sitting up to finally look at her properly, Olive’s eyes filled with tears much like her own. “Decided to tell Kenny and DeMarco before I even got a look in?” “I didn’t tell them, Val. They caught me.” “I’m sorry, what?” “Kenny caught me one night and I couldn’t lie to him,” she sighed. “Truth be told, I’d had one too many that night and didn’t have my wits about me.” “What about DeMarco?” “Meatball gave me away this morning when I was coming back,” Meatball huffs indignantly at the mention of his name in a negative manner, Olive and Val rolling their eyes at him. “Yes, I’m talking about you, silly dog.”

“So you did want to tell me,..”

“More than anything, but I just couldn’t figure out how!”

“So why now all of a sudden,” Val leans over to pull a tissue from her side table, dabbing at her eyes as she continues to seek answers. “Why do this when we’re all so riddled with nerves over this mission?”

“It was getting too risky. There were so many things today that almost gave me up, and I was really starting to feel terrible about lying to everyone.”

“Mhmm…”

“Especially you, Val. You’re my person.”

“I assumed that would be Dougie.” Val’s tone is snarky, but the smile that stretches across her face tells Olive that maybe, just maybe, this is all going to be okay. 

“Romantically, he’s my man. But you…” Olive grins brightly at her. “This shit is for life.”

“Best friends?” Val sounds hopeful, the tears finally dry and she thinks that, yes, she hasn’t lost this sweet part of her life. 

“Forever.” Olive beams, reaching across to the bunk and taking Val’s hand in hers. 

“You know, you’re the first best friend I’ve had that isn’t Curt, and I got scared that maybe it was all too good to be true and you didn’t want to be my friend because I’m too crass or loud, or difficult.”

“Who the hell ever said that about you!” Olive crowed. 

“Olive…”

“Oh Val, what did that man do to you hmm?” 

Olive sighed, knowing that the version of Val they all got on a daily basis was clouded with self conscious fear of being too much as she was once dubbed, by someone she had thought to care about her. 

“I’m sorry for being such a big baby,” she sniffs, shaking her head at her own annoyance. “I just don’t like being left out. And when it came from you, I felt like…well… sad.”

“Does anybody, chicken?” Olive laughs to try and lighten the mood. “Wait, you believe me?”

“Yes, I believe you,” Val nods along with her words, catching Olive’s eyes widened at her confession. “It makes a lot of sense if you think about it. Your hair, nails never done, makeup needing fixing-”

“Yes yes, Helen already ate me up about all that.” 

“Ate you up?” A snort leaves Val, her hand coming up to cover her mouth as Olive giggles at the sound. 

“Chewed me up and spat me right out!”

“Oh that’s excellent, I love it! Not that she, ‘ate you up’, no the expression! I’ll be stealing that, English.”

“I thought you might like that one.”

It’s a quiet, comfortable silence, the hut filled with only the sound of Meatball’s light snores, as the girls take stock of everything that had unfolded in under an hour. The day itself, the anxiety, their boys somewhere terribly far away as they hoped that they had made it safely, and would return safely. Secrets aired and confessions laid bare as friendships were put to the test. Olive and Val both worried if they would be able to see through to the other side, and yet, it seemed nothing could keep the two women from sticking together through dark days and blue skies. 

“Any more secrets you’d like to tell me?” Val squinted at her playfully. “We may as well get it all out in the open now.”

“There’s nothing much to tell, really. Dead dad, abandoned by my mum and raised by Pearl.”

“Oh Ol… me too. The first part.”

“Really?”

“Yes, he passed away when I was very little. I don’t even remember him.”

Was that a blessing, that she didn’t have memories to be twisted painfully? Or was it more painful to not have those memories? She’d never truly be able to decide which side of the coin was easier to deal with. 

“I’m so sorry honey,” Olive sighed, and Val knew exactly how she felt. “It’s not a fun club to be a member of, is it.”

“Club?”

“Yes, the dead dad club. I got my badge when I was thirteen.”

“It was always me, mama and Nonna. And then, Curt and Mama Biddick seemed to just fall into place as part of our family.”

“I only ever had Pearl, after. My mum didn’t take it well at all but then, who would?” Val watches as Olive pulls a dainty gold locket from her shirt, gently opening, keeping the two halves closed, it before looking up at her again. “Would you like to see him?”

“I’d be honored.” Val grinned, coming from her bed to perch next to her friend. 

Val watches closely as Olive carefully opens the locket to reveal a small, heart shaped photo inside. She’s momentarily stunned by the color photo, but her eyes seem to soften as she takes in the image of the man holding a who she already knows is baby Olive. He looks proud, and positively in love with the small girl in his arms, and suddenly, she realizes that neither side of the coin is easier to deal with. Loss with or without knowing, is still loss, and it still stings something fierce. 

“You look just like him, chickie. The same eyes,” she glances up at Olive with a bright smile. “Wow! That’s your dad.” “That’s my dad. My Papa,” Olive breathes on a smile, closing the locket once more and keeping the man inside safe. “He was a sweetheart.” “Do you think he’d approve of Dougie?” “Without a doubt!” She grinned brightly “Both of them have the same silly sense of humor. I’m beginning to think James has a hotline to heaven with those jokes of his.”

“And this? You, here with us?” “I think he would, yes. I think he’d just be happy to see me happy.”

“That’s good…”

“It all scares me silly, Val,” her voice wavered, not unlike the way it had earlier in the club. “He’s gone, and once Pearl goes, I’m all alone.” “That’s twice today you’ve made me want to smack you,” Val scolds, wrapping her arms around her in a hug that takes Olive no time to reciprocate. “You are far from alone, Olive Lewis, who fell out of the sky and into my life. You will always have me, and our little family.” “You’re not  just blowing smoke up my arse?” “Would I ever?” Val raises an eyebrow at her in challenge, and Olive immediately laughs at how silly she looks. 

“Come on,” Olive suggests, pulling Val up off the bed. “We’d better get back.”

“We left Helen and Tat with those boys didn’t we…”

“We did,” Olive laughs. “Besides, I have something to show you.”

She’s digging in her bag when the door to the hut swings open, Helen and Tattie appearing with smiles on their faces and rosy cheeks. It’s Tattie who looks to have indulged just a bit more than she usually does, leaning on Helen as they enter the hut together. 

“What on earth is that thing?” Tattie laughs, pointing at the object Olive had been digging in her purse for. 

“Sorry, we wanted to check on you both.” Helen explains, sitting Tattie down on her bed. 

“Yeah, the conversation with Rosie and the boys was less than riveting after a while. Ha! Riveting! Get it?”

“Oh Tattie…” Val laughs, coming to sit beside her, pulling her into a one armed hug. “Please don’t ever change, okay?”

“Why would I- hey, what’s that in your hand, English?” The words are slightly slurred, and suddenly all eyes are on Olive. 

“What the fuck is that!” Helen exclaims, pointing at the object now sitting in Olive’s open palm. “Olive!”

“This is my proof.” She smiles, hand outstretched so that the other girls could see just what she was holding. 

It’s a thin rectangle, shiny, and Olive seems to be taking great care with it. There’s nothing to give away what it might be, but then Olive slides her finger up the front and it lights up, all three girls screaming as if it might bite them right on the nose. 

“What is it!” Val looks wild eyed and unsure.  “It’s a phone,” Olive explains. “Or as Lemmons likes to call it, a doo-hicke.” 

“But there’s no wire! Or buttons!” Helen exclaims, her total soft nature just a bit more emboldened by the alcohol and the mood. 

“Well, they don’t make them with buttons or wires anymore in the future.”

“No shit!” Tattie laughs. 

“I can’t do much with it here but, I can play some music, and take pictures.” “Pictures on a telephone?” Val shouts, finally standing and grabbing it from Olive in a flurry. “Let me see!”

Olive taps a button, and the screen suddenly changes, and all at once Val is face to face with herself and Olive looking back at her in the small screen.

“Look, it’s us!”

“Oh my god…” Val whispers, turning her head this way and that, the image never faltering, like a mirror. “B-but, how?” “Magic.” Olive replies. 

“Magic…wow!” Tattie smiles from the bed, watching as Olive shows Val the mysterious phone. “Take our picture!” Val demands suddenly. “Shit, alright, calm down there DiRosano.”

Olive holds the phone out in front of her, and quickly snaps a picture, laughing at the shocked look on Val’s face as the end result reveals itself to them. 

“Oh no, that’s terrible and now you wasted film!”

“There’s no film,” Olive grins, showing Val as she clicks what looks like a small trash can and the photo is gone. “It’s… well, technology is complicated.”

“No film?!”

“None. Here, let’s try again.”

“Okay…”

“Smile pretty, like Ev is looking at you.” Olive teases, and just as she suspected, Val falls into a fit of giggles beside her just as she snaps the photo. 

“Well, would you look at that!” Olive proudly shows Val the photo, and her green eyes go wide as she inspects it. 

Side by side, laughing together. Just as Val had hoped their friendship would be. 

“That’s…oh wow! Olive!”

“Right? Pretty cool!”

“Can we try?” Helen pipes up from where she’s perched next to Tattie. 

“Yes, of course!”

And so Olive spends the next hour taking photos of her friends and showing them how to use the camera for themselves. Val is adamant that if everyone on base knew about this, that poor Joe would be out of a job in the officers club each night, but the four girls have sworn to each other not to breathe a word of this to anyone who doesn’t already know. 

“How about some music?”

“Let me guess, there’s a teeny tiny Victorla in there?” Val laughs. 

“No, it’s, again, complicated.” Olive giggles, picking up a spare glass that’s on the vanity and sitting the phone inside of it. 

“A glass?”

“Helps it sound better.”

“Okay then… show us more magic then, English!” 

“Yes ma’am Miss Tattie!” Olive mock salutes as she taps on the screen again. 

It’s unlike anything Val has ever heard, and yet, she can’t find it in herself to stop bouncing around at all the different songs that Olive plays for them. It’s loud, and some of it is a little harsh, but she kind of likes it. 

“You’ll like this singer, Val. Her name is Madonna.”

“Like, La Madonna the Virgin Mary?”

“Yes, like that.”

“Jesus Christ… what an odd name to give your child!”

“It’s not her real name, it’s more of a stage name.”

“Still!”

And then she’s dancing around the hut again, and Olive is singing the words along with the song as she takes her hands and they dance together. Its girlhood at its absolute purest and neither of them can even be bothered to care about how their curls are coming undone and their uniforms are getting wrinkled. They’re simply happy. 

“What do you think Ev will like?” Val asks later, quietly curled up next to Olive on one of the bunks. “I’ll bring some of my dads old vinyls from Pearl’s on my next visit back, and we’ll find out!” Olive grins. 

“Do you think they’re okay?”

“Ev and Doug? Yea, I do…” Olive sighs, giving Val’s hand a squeeze. 

“All of them…”

“Yea, all of them.”

They’re interrupted by a soft snore coming from the other side of the room, Tattie knocked out in her uniform. Helen gently covers her with a blanket, her shoes long since discarded, and with a giggle, holds a finger to her lips to get everyone to shush. 

“She’s on to something,” Olive yawns. “I’m knackered.” “Nah-kurred!” Both Val and Helen tease quietly, Val poking Olive softly on the nose.

“Oh leave it, Yanks!” “Oooh, she’s getting bold!” “Yes, now that I know we’re all four of us stuck together forever, I can be myself.” “Good,” Val says, planting a kiss on her cheek as she stands up and moves to her own bunk. “I don’t want to see anymore funny business from you.”

“Ma’am yes ma’am!” Olive gives her a sloppy two finger salute, much the same way that Doug always does. 

“You look like Dougie when you do that.” Helen giggled, her pajamas now on as she shuffles beneath her blankets. 

“Off to dream of Jimmy Stewart again, Hel?”

“Yes,” she yawns. “Maybe this time Val won’t wake me before I get my big kiss.”

“I’ll do my best.” 

Val gets into her own pajamas just as Olive does the same, leaving a soft kiss to the dog tag that bears Everett’s name before taking her rosary into her hands and saying a quick prayer before bed. Just before she turns the lights out, she catches Olive pulling Dougie’s jacket from the end of the bed and put it on over her sleep clothes. She watches as the sweet English girl who fell from the sky presses her nose into the collar. Depositing her rosary, Val picks up the phone carefully and, following Olive’s earlier instructions, takes a quick photo of her curled into James Douglass’ jacket before switching the lights off. 

“I love you, DiRosano” Olive whispers, sleep slurring her words. “Love you more, English.” Val grins. 

Silently, she says goodnight to Everett, hoping her words and her prayers reach him safely in Africa. That he returns home soon, with his crew and their friends intact. That Curt had kept his promise of not doing anything stupid, and that they’d all be together soon. There was a lot to catch up on. 

A/N: Thanks for reading! This series will continue for Blakely & Val, so if you enjoyed this, please like, comment, reblog- whichever is your poison. Feedback is always welcome & my ask box is always open. If you want to be added to my tag list, or removed, let me know!

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[sleepy-hyperfixations]

Curt: If you took a shot every time you thought Bucky was attractive, how drunk would you be?

Brady: Sober.

Hambone: Maybe a bit tipsy?

Friedkin: Drunk.

Blakely: Wasted.

Buck: Dead.

[trashbag-baby666]

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