#everett blakely fic

[blakelysco-pilot]

The Way I Am

Beat Me, Daddy, Eight To The Bar: Part Three

Everett Blakely x Valencia DiRosano (OC)

The realities of war begin to dig their way under the skin of the men and women at Thorpe Abbotts, leaving some with more on their shoulders than they'd care to carry. New and existing friendships help to brighten a dark day, while Val and Everett admit truth's they can only say to each other. Featuring @winniemaywebber's Olive Lewis from the Honeysuckle Rose series.

Part Two Follow along with the Eight To The Bar Playlist

Non-mision days were, naturally, a favorite of those who lived on Thorpe Abbotts airbase. A lot of the boys would still go up for practice missions, but it would leave a lot less what-if’s and nerves on the ground because the Luftwaffe was nowhere to be found, and the only thing they needed to worry about was taking off and landing safely. Those days, the Red Cross girls would still set up the Clubmobile for the boys, greeting them with coffee and donuts and a friendly smile as they trekked out to the hardstand. Today, almost all of the boys were going up on a practice run. They had already seen Brady and the  M’lle Zig Zig crew, Bucky and the crew of Mugwump, followed directly by Buck Cleven and Our Baby. Benny DeMarco had lingered at the truck, the pilot infatuated with the newest Red Cross girl, Olive. Olive had seemingly come out of nowhere, according to Tattie, but the girls had wasted no time at all in taking her in, despite her accent and dry British humor, she fit in like a missing puzzle piece amongst them. 

When Benny had asked if the girls would be willing to keep an eye on Meatball while they went up for practice, Olive was first out of the truck to greet the husky. Val suspected it was so that he didn’t actually go inside of the truck and make a mess of things like he somehow tended to do. When he got restless, Olive had offered to take him for a walk, and since it had been quiet, Val had ushered Helen off as well to keep Olive company. Tattie had taken the jeep to go pick up supplies for the truck on the other side of the base, which left Val alone. 

“You running the show alone today?”

Val looked up from where she was reading her copy of Screen Romances to find Ev and Douglass standing in front of the Clubmobile. Dougie’s hands on his hips, a wide smile stretching across his mouth. 

“Is my favorite Flyboy and his bombardier bringing up the rear today?” She smiled upon seeing them, her gaze immediately finding Everett’s from behind his aviators. 

“Just coffee if you can spare it, Val.” Douglass requested, politely declining the donut she had pointed to. 

“Oh, it’s okay for me to make you coffee again? I don’t need to go find Olive for you? She teased, already moving to pour him coffee from the carafe. Benny DeMarco wasn’t the only one who had taken a shine to Olive. 

“I saw her on my way over,” He shook his head, but the smile remained. “She was with Helen and Meatball.”

“DeMarco asked us to keep an eye on him while you boys went up today, so the two of them took him for a walk.”

Val reached through the hatch with his coffee, the handoff seamless as he accepted the coffee, the cup immediately coming up to his lips. 

“You’ve got the magic touch, Val.” He hummed, eyes closed in satisfaction. 

“I won't tell Olive you said that.” She rolled her eyes with a shake of her head as he gave her a half hearted salute and cheeky smile, before turning and heading towards the hardstands.  

Everett remained by the truck, flight gear and sheepskin jacket making him look every bit the pilot that she knew him to be. He was squinting up at her in the early morning sun, sunglasses now hanging from the pocket of his jacket. Even with his crush cap on, the sun was in his eyes. He looked like a little boy when he did that, and Val couldn’t help but find him utterly adorable. 

“Coffee for the road, handsome?” She grinned, holding a cup up, nodding her head towards the back of the truck where the doors were open. 

He smiled and moved around, meeting her at the back and stepping up on the first step, as she came to stand in front of him. 

“Hmm did you make it the way I like it?” 

“You mean, did I leave it black? Yes, Everett, I did.” 

“Someone woke up on the sassy side of the bed this morning.” He watched as she pulled her hand back, holding the coffee away from him. 

“This is going to cost you, Captain.”  She grinned. 

“Oh yeah? How much then, Miss Val?”

“Hmmm I’m thinking it’s at least worth a good morning kiss.” 

“Well, what kind of man would I be if I refused payment?” 

Stepping up one more step, he came as close as he could so she wouldn’t have to lean down, and gently, carefully, dropped a hand to her waist to steady her before planting his lips on hers. The kiss was quick, but not without feeling. The pair were very much aware that they were on working hours when he was flying and she was at the truck, so they tried not to get too carried away. But, still, he hated to go up if only for practice, without giving her a proper goodbye. 

“Payment accepted.” Val grinned as they parted, her hand falling to rest over his that remained on her waist, the other handing over his coffee before she spilled it. 

“Thank you,” His smile was wide as he took the cup from her hand, taking a sip and sighing as the liquid warmed him. “Perfect.”

“I don’t see how, there’s nothing in it!” She eyed his coffee skeptically. 

“I wasn’t talking about the coffee, sweetheart.”

“Oh, well, in that case I’m inclined to agree with you.”

He was about to reply when Douglass appeared around the back of the truck, head sticking out from behind where the doors were open, just over Everett’s shoulder. 

“Not that I’m not enjoying getting to drink my coffee but, we can’t get moving without the pilot, pal.”

“Dougie, you have the worst timing.” Ev sighed, shaking his head as Val laughed at the pair. Sometimes she couldn’t help but wonder if they were the couple and she was just third wheeling. 

“Go on,” She urged him, stepping down from the truck to guide him towards where he needed to be. “You have to fly and I need to clean up here.”

“I’ll see you later, yea?” He dropped a quick kiss to her cheek just to see her smile again.

“Yes, either after you get back or at the club later with the girls. Now, be safe up there, okay?”

“You have my word.” He nodded. 

“You have mine, too!” Douglass joined in.

“Christ sake,” She shook her head. “Both of you get a move on, I don’t want to hear Harding bellowing about how I held you up.” 

At that, both boys turned, coffee in hand, and made their way to the hardstand to prep for their practice mission. 

Climbing back into the Clubmobile, she began to clean up what she could; covering the donuts with a towel, and wiping down the counter so that it was free of any spilled milk or sugar. Once she was satisfied, and knew Tattie would be too, she promptly parked herself back in front of her magazine to pick up where she left off. 

“Jeez, Val, don’t look so busy!”

Looking up she found Jack Kidd and Chick Harding, the taller of the men giving her his signature sarcastic scowl, which she was always happy to return. Ever since Bucky had been demoted from Air Exec, Jack seemed to have a permanent scowl on his face with most of the men. He had tried, once, to use it on her when he caught her and Ev saying goodbye at the truck, but Val had turned and given it back as good as she got. Jack had very quickly learned that while Tattie was in charge of the Red Cross girls, Val was the muscle, and if she was mad at you, heaven help the poor soul. Helen was starting to think Val and Jack just made faces at each other to see who could look meaner at this point, because it never lasted long before one of them broke and cracked a real smile.

“Wake up with a bug up your ass again, Jack?” She smirked, closing the magazine and leaning on her elbows out the hatch. 

“I’m here and not home so, yea.”

“Aww, well, loosen up and I’m sure you’ll feel better.”

Harding stood, amused, watching the two seemingly square off, before Val broke first, offering a genuine smile that Jack returned. At that, Chick stepped up to the hatch to get her attention. 

“Valencia…”

“Chicky…”

“Jesus,” he huffed around his cigar, smoke billowing around him at her use of his unauthorized nickname. “Don’t call me that.”

“Okay, whatever you say, Chicky.”

Behind him, Kidd snickered, but quickly covered it with a cough. 

“Valencia…” Harding warned. 

“Fine…” It was long and drawn out. “You boys want coffee? I’ve got a few donuts left too.”

“Please,” Harding spoke, the words muffled around his cigar. “Why are you out here by yourself?”

“Helen and Olive took Meatball for a walk, and Tattie should be back any minute now. She took the jeep for supplies.”

“That damn dog get near the donuts again?” Harding tried to lift the towel she had placed over them, eyeing up the treats. 

“No, he did not get near them.”

“Good, I’ll take one then.”

Shaking her head, she handed him his coffee and donut before she turned her attention to Jack. Before she could ask him what he wanted the sound of Tattie on the jeep filled the air. 

“You two playing nice?” Tattie looked between Jack and Val. 

“Yes, Tattie, don’t worry,” Kidd chuckled. “I know when I’m beat.”

Grinning, the brunette stepped off the jeep, the back loaded with supplies for the Clubmobile. 

“Give me a second Tat and I’ll come help ya!” Val called out to her. 

Nodding, Tattie grabbed the small box that had been resting on the front seat next to her and made her way into the Clubmobile, while Val finished up with the boys. 

“Jack? Coffee?”

“Sure, Val, thanks.”

“Remind me again…”

“Just black.”

Nodding with a smile, Val poured him a cup, leaving it black. Plucking a donut from the tray, she handed him both, waving him off when he tried to protest at the donut. 

“Go on, I can’t let them go to waste.”

“Appreciate it,” Kidd nodded. “You taking the rest out to the ground crew?”

“That’s the plan.” 

“Good, those boys are working hard.”

With that, Chick and Jack gave her a wave before walking off back towards the control tower, where she had assumed Red was waiting for them. Watching them go, she quickly exited the truck and made her way to the jeep to help Tattie unload the boxes she had picked up. Helen and Olive should have been back, but knowing they had Meatball, it might have been a small blessing that they could unload the jeep without the husky getting under their feet for a bit. 

“Red Cross sent more rations. Coffee and fixings to make more donuts for us,” Tattie groaned, lifting a box and walking it to the truck. “Looks like we’ve got enough sugar to get us through the next month or two at least.”

“That’ll keep the fellas happy.” She agreed. 

“Nicked a few sweets for us girls, too.” Tattie winked as she stopped by the truck. 

“Your last name does have its advantages.” Val laughed, giving the scarf tied around her head a quick fix. 

“Mhmm, and you wouldn’t have been able to sweet talk the supply officer into a few Hershey bars?”

Before Val could reply, the sound of an engine far too close to where it should have been sounded above them, followed by a crash. The sound of the Land Girls screaming, and flames igniting in the trees out by the perimeter of the base caught their attention immediately, their faces turning to panic. 

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” 

“Did you see what tail number it was?”

“No, I can’t see anything except smoke.”

“Get in the Jeep, come on.”

Tattie wasted no time jumping back behind the wheel, Val practically throwing herself into the seat beside her as they sped off to the hardstand. The fear was rising deep within her chest the closer they got, and she had to will herself to believe that Everett and his crew were not the ones ignited in flames somewhere in the trees. As if someone had their hand around her throat with no intention of letting up, she drew in ragged and uneven breaths. 

“Val… deep breath doll, come on…” Tattie’s voice sounded far away, like she was underwater and couldn’t break through the surface. 

“You girls shouldn’t be out here!” Ken Lemmons yelled as soon as Tattie parked the jeep by the Ground Crew. 

“Kenny…” Val turned to him with wide eyes, and the nineteen year old had never seen someone he considered a spitfire, look so terrified. 

“It’s Baynard and his crew.” He sighed, knowing her question before she had even asked it. 

“Jesus…” The relief she felt melded with the sadness that slammed into her as she remembered handing Baynard and his Navigator their coffee that morning. He was one of the newer kids- anyone younger than her was a kid in her eyes- and hadn’t even flown a first mission yet. 

“Took a turn too early and went into a dive, couldn’t pull himself out of it.”

“He was just a kid…” Val shook her head, trying to understand just how the world could be so cruel. 

Tattie’s hand came to rest on her shoulder, and when Val turned to look at her friend, she noticed that she looked just as upset as she felt. The boys liked to joke that the girls could be the last pretty face they ever saw, and the reality of it seemed to hit the pair on them with the force of a thousand B-17’s. 

“Tattie, let’s uh, let’s get back to the truck and let the boys uhm…”

“Yea, yea alright.” She put the jeep back into gear, and the two women sped off back towards the Clubmobile. 

When they returned, the boxes they hadn’t finished unloading remained on the grass, Helen and Olive standing amongst them with Meatball eagerly sniffing at them. 

“What the hell happened out there!” Olive yelled over the engine of the jeep. 

“Baynard, he uh… him and his crew they…”

“Fuck sake! That was them?”

“Yea, it was them.” Val stepped out of the jeep with a sigh, immediately letting it support her body weight. 

“We just saw them this morning…” Helen sighed, body slumped back against the Clubmobile. 

Val could only nod, the fear that had her in a chokehold slowly beginning to subside. To think it could have been Everett, or Curt, had made her blood run cold. The idea of losing either of them was a reality she prayed to god she never had to face. 

“Val? You alright?” Helen was suddenly in front of her, Val’s hand in her own, the woman trying to meet her eyes. 

“Yea… just, scared shitless if I’m being honest.”

“Oh honey, I know…”

“Could have been either of them, Helen. And I’m not keen on being alone.”

“Oh chicken, you’ll never be alone. You’ve got us.” Olive joined them, taking Val’s other hand in her own, a soft smile on her face. 

“I need to get used to being called chicken as a term of endearment.” Val laughed, dropping her head to Olive’s shoulder. 

“There we go,” Olive grinned. “Feeling better?”

Nodding, Val pushed off from the jeep, moving to help with the rest of the boxes so that they could close up the truck and head off to the mess for lunch. 

“Meatball! No!!” 

The three girls looked over to where Tattie was standing, hands on her hips, as Meatball ripped into one of the boxes with his teeth. 

“I’m going to kill DeMarco…” she sighed. 

——————————————————————————————————

Exiting the Red Cross hut, Val and Olive were surprised to see Curt waiting outside for them. The pilot was dressed sharp, grinning from ear to ear as the girls spotted him. 

“Can I walk ya to the club, Val?”

“You can; I’m hard pressed to ask what you want, Curt.”

“Honest to God, just wanna walk ya.”

“Curt?”

“Helen told me you were a bit rattled after today, and I just wanted to make sure you’re alright…”

Val stopped walking, turning to face Curt with a soft smile. 

“Olive, I’ll catch up.”

“Okay,” She nodded. “I’ll save your seat.”

“Thanks.” Val turned to her friend, watching as she walked across to the club, immediately intercepted by Benny who had been waiting outside with Meatball. 

Turning back to Curt, she saw him fidgeting with his sleeves before finding her gaze again. 

“Curt, I’m alright. Honest…”

“Nah, I know you’re alright but, I wanted to just, double check, ya know?”

“Curt, are you alright?” His fidgeting was so unlike him that it had her worried. 

“Oh sure, yea I’m just fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I gotta be alright for my crew, ya know? And for you and my Ma back home.  But, sometimes, it all just feels… well, I feel it.”

“Well, it’s okay to feel it. You can admit that to me, Curt. I wouldn’t think anything less of you.”

“You’d better not, you’re my best friend.”

“Curt…” She sighed. This was usually when she’d begin to get exasperated with him. As usual.

“B’Sides… if anything happens-“

“Curt…”

“If anything happens, you gotta write to my Ma, alright?”

“Curt, how can you ask me to do that?” She whispered. 

“No one knows me better than you, Val. It’s gotta be you, alright?”

“How can you put that on me, huh?”

“Just promise, would ya, ya stubborn woman!” He threw his hands up at her. “I’m not planning on leaving anytime soon, for fuck sake.”

“Fine! I promise, okay?” 

“Thank you,” He grinned, but she could tell it didn’t reach his eyes. “Now come on, I think we both need a drink.”

“After what you just asked me, I need more than one.” She groaned, allowing him to toss his arm over her shoulder and guide them both to the club. 

“Well I’m only buying ya one,” He looked up with a smirk. “You got Blakely now, he can buy you the second one.”

“You’re unbelievable.” 

“Nah, I’m very believable.” 

Pulling the door open, he walked Val to the table where the girls were already sitting, promising to be back with her drink. It left her shaking her head as she sat, baffled still at the conversation they’d had outside, and how he had turned on a dime from sarcastic Curt, to a scared boy right in front of her.

Turning to the girls, she noticed that Olive wasn’t with them, and knowing Benny had caught her on her way in, she wondered if him and Douglass were already vying for her attention. 

“Where’s Olive? With Benny or Dougie?”

“Ladies room.”

“Okay so which one is probably waiting outside the door for her?” Val chuckled, trying to bring herself back. 

“Dougie.” They replied in unison, laughing at the image of him hanging out outside the ladies bathroom. 

Helen gestured behind her, and before she could ask her what she was looking at, the one voice she had been yearning to hear all day since that crash, had finally eased the anxiety gnawing at her from the inside out. 

“I was starting to wonder where you were.” 

“Ev…” His name came on a breath, and she turned in her seat to see him standing behind her, dapper as ever. 

“I didn’t see you come in with the girls,” He rounded the table and perched himself against the arm of the chair next to her, casually bringing his drink to his lips. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, everything’s fine. Curt caught me as I was leaving the hut with Olive and wanted to talk.”

He nodded, slipping into the seat next to her with ease, his arm coming to rest around the back of her chair. His fingers gently moved over her shoulder, causing her to shiver and slide just a bit closer to him. 

“You okay sweetheart?” 

Shaking her head as if he had to ask why she had moved closer, she was about to give him the what for, when the other man in her life suddenly reappeared. 

“Course she’s okay! She’s got a drink now!”

He carefully slid a martini glass in front of her, and she couldn’t help but notice it was missing some off the top. 

“Thank you, Curt. And would you look at that, he taste tested it for me too.”

“What a guy, I know I am!” Curt beamed, not even caring that she had caught him. 

“You didn’t bring one for the rest of us, Biddick?” Tattie baited him, knowing it would get a rise out of the pilot and take the heat off Val. 

“My mistake, Tattie. What are you and Helen drinking this evening?”

“Rum and cola,” She replied, bringing a cigarette to her lips. “And they’re not to be taste tested.”

“Well then, I’ll be back with those.”

“Curt, why don’t you join us when you come back, yea?” Val looked over at him, and then at Ev, who nodded over at his fellow pilot in agreement. 

“Yea, Biddick, you can’t leave me outnumbered here…” Ev offered, the two men sharing a silent conversation. 

“Well, alright then. I'll be right back.”

Once Curt had reached the bar, Val pressed a chaste kiss to Ev’s cheek. 

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“You know what for.” She grinned. 

“Well, in that case, you’re welcome.”

“You two just going to gaze into each other's eyes all night, or are one of you going to go and save poor Olive, who’s been cornered at the bar.” Helen gestured to where Olive was now at the bar, Douglass, Benny and Curt, all trying to buy her a drink. 

“Jesus Christ almighty, Everett, you need to keep him on a leash.” Val sighed, pushing her chair back, standing to go rescue her friend. 

“Maybe we can ask Benny if he’ll lend us Meatball’s.” He called after her as she went, the two girls at the table with him laughing. 

“Okay boys, that’s enough,” Val pushed through them, just enough to get to Olive’s side. “Curt, I have two very thirsty friends waiting on you at the table.”

“I was just-“

“Helen and Tattie are waiting.” She fixed him with a look, and he quickly turned back to the bar to order two drinks for the girls and a whiskey for himself. 

“You two,” She turned on Douglass and DeMarco. “If you’d like to talk to Olive, come and sit with us.”

“Oh uh…”

“The table, Dougie,” Val grinned, a saccharine sweet smile stretching across her lips. “Benny, you and Meatball are welcome to join us.”

With that, she linked arms with Olive and marched her back towards the table that Everett and the girls were still occupying. 

“You could rule the world, Valencia DiRosano.” Olive shook her head with a laugh. 

“No, but I could certainly whip these fellas into shape.”

Neither girl had to turn around to know that all three boys were following dutifully behind them, looking more like lost puppy’s than the actual dog that was part of their little hodgepodge group. 

Four Red Cross gals, three pilots, a bombardier and a husky all crowded around a table as the band played on around them. Val had slid into Everett’s lap at one point, and Meatball had dutifully taken up her empty seat for himself, paws on the table like the good boy he was, simply enjoying the people around him. If she had to admit it, he was the best behaved fella at the table. Curt was currently telling a -very animated- story from back home that included Val, and a blonde that hadn’t gotten the hint that he was uninterested. 

“I ain’t never seen anything like it,” His arms flailed wildly around him, almost knocking the glass from Benny’s hand. “One minute she’s across the room, and the next, she’s got this girl by the elbow, hauling her out like-“

“Like trash, Curt. Because she was trash.” Val sniggered, pointing across the table at him while Everett held her in his lap. 

“So we know who to call when we need a quick exit then, is that it?” Benny chuckled. 

“Call Tattie, she’s just as good as I am.”

“Oh please! You’re the muscle, you managed to tame Kidd of that god awful scowl he’s been wearing for weeks.”

“That’s Egan’s fault,” Helen groaned. “Went and got himself demoted.”

“How exactly do you get demoted from Air Exec?” Dougie pondered, lighting himself a cigarette before it was quickly proffered by Olive, who plucked it from his fingers with a grin. “Hey!”

When she handed it back to him after taking the first inhale, no one at the table missed the slightly put out look on Benny’s face. Thankfully, they were saved by the Hundredths regimental photographer coming over to their table, camera in hand.

“You lot up for a group shot?”

“Absolutely!” Tattie grinned, maneuvering everyone so that they were all crowded together, Meatball front and center, tongue wagging in delight at all the attention. Val remained perched in Ev’s lap, her right arm wound around his neck, the left holding his that was firmly on her waist. Across from her, Dougie had pulled Olive into his lap, the blue eyed man looking rather pleased with himself. Curt had squeezed himself between Helen and Tattie, sitting on their laps, as Benny squeezed in between Val and Tattie, with Meatball. 

“Alright you guys,” Joe, the photographer hollered over the band. “On three…”

He counted off, and the flash captured the moment perfectly. He took a second, just to be sure, before the group untangled themselves. 

“How about you two,” He turned to Val and Everett. “Captain Blakely? Miss Val?”

“Oh! Thank you Joe!” She beamed, standing from Everett’s lap so that they could take a proper photo.

Adjusting his jacket, Everett wrapped both arms around her, holding her close as she rested one hand on his back, the other against his chest. They barely registered their friends watching, or that Joe had snapped the first photo of them simply looking at each other. When he had them turn to smile, Val felt as though she might burst; wrapped up in Everett’s arms, everything felt as it should. Her friends, the man she adored, the music around them and even Meatball. It didn’t escape her that this was the first photo they’d taken together, and she’d cherish it for the rest of her days.  

“I’ll get those to you all soon as I can.” Joe had bid them farewell after taking a few more of their group. Curt was especially excited to send the picture of him and Val home to his Ma. Proof they were both alright, he had said. Val suspected he just wanted to prove she hadn’t strangled him. Yet. 

“Thanks Joe!”

As he made his way to the next table, Curt stood from his spot at the table, holding his hand out to Helen, cheeky smile on his face. 

“Humor a poor sap with a dance?”

“Well; you’ve been surprisingly well behaved tonight, Curt, so why not.”

She allowed him to take her hand and guide her from her chair to the dance floor, where they began to sway to the tune of the band. 

Val and Tattie watched as both Dougie and Benny seemed to have the same idea, and sensing that DeMarco had sat and watched Olive with Douglass, Tattie stood from her seat, and tugged Dougie with her towards the dance floor. 

“Come on, you. Let’s stretch our legs, hmm?”

“Sure, Tattie…” Dougie followed her towards the center, eyes just barely catching Benny leading Olive to the dance floor as well. 

“May I?” Everett held his hand out for Val, who accepted without hesitation. Joining their friends on the dance floor, the band kept the tunes slow and romantic for a bit longer than normal. Val didn’t miss Dougie and Benny swap partners after the second song finished, the two of them remaining well behaved, lest ruin the mood of the evening for everyone. 

“The pair of them are lovesick.” Everett shook his head, watching as Olive joined Dougie, and Tattie moved into Benny’s hold. 

“Olive is definitely overwhelmed by it all,” Val looked up at him. “But between you and me, I think it’s Dougie who’s stolen her heart.”

“You think so?”

“She looks at him a certain way that she doesn’t when Benny comes around. I think she loves Benny but she may be falling in love with Doug.”

“Love, huh? That’s a big admission.” 

“Well, when you know, you know.” Val shrugged, tucking herself back against his chest. 

“Ain’t that the fuckin truth…” Ev whispered to himself, glancing down at the woman in his arms. 

He’d had a feeling when he first saw her in the club that night that something had been irking her, and when she had mentioned Curt wanting to talk, he thought it had been something he had done. The two of them were constantly arguing like siblings, the occasional real disagreement popping up, but they had seemed fine at the table, so maybe it really was nothing. 

“How did it go up there today?” She peeked up at him, and that’s when he saw it. The worry behind her eyes. 

“That’s what’s bothering you…”

“Nothing's bothering me.”

“Please, don’t lie to me…” 

“I don’t want to do this here,” Val eyed the room cautiously, before nodding towards the doors. “Take a walk with me?”

“Of course honey. Come on.”

He led her from the club, now outside in the dewy, English air. They walked hand in hand, silently, until they found a suitable place to talk without anyone hearing them. 

“It’s not like me to get scared but, today…”

“You heard about Baynard.” He guessed. 

“Tattie and I saw it happen.”

He hadn’t expected that she’d seen it. Hearing about these things was never easy, and the girls were all so friendly with the fellas that they began to grow attached to some of them. You remember how they take their coffee, or to ask about their sweetheart back home. Anything to bring a smile to their faces. 

“Jesus…”

“We were unloading the boxes into the truck, and the next thing we saw was the tail of a fort in the trees, black smoke and fire. Fire like I’ve never seen in my life.”

“Honey…”

“I just thought…” She sucked in a deep breath, trying to focus on something, anything. Anything except for the way her chest was seizing up and her eyes were watering. “What if it had been you, or Curt. I just don’t know what I’d have done.”

“I’m so sorry that you spent all day worried.”

“Kenny told us it wasn’t you… it shouldn’t be that grief comes with relief, Ev.”

“I know,” He sighed, taking her hands in his. “I wasn’t even off the ground yet when it happened. Yet… yet I felt this odd sense of thank god. Thank god it wasn’t my crew, my friends…”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything honey.”

“Are you ever scared? Scared that you might go up one day and, and-“

“Every day,” He admitted. “Scared we’ll live the rest of our lives stuck in East Anglia, fighting this goddamn war. Scared I’ll go up and it’ll be the last time. Scared I’ll end up stuck in the Stalag while you’re here alone. Scared to break your heart most of all.”

“Everett, no…no don’t say that.”

“We could be scared together. No one else has to know.” 

“Yea…yea let’s do that,” She huffed out a laugh, wiping at her eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. It’s alright.”

“You weren’t supposed to see me cry.”

“No? But then I don’t get to do this.”

Carefully, he took her face in his hands, kissing away the tears that stained her cheeks. Slowly, carefully, his lips blazed a trail down her left cheek, stopping to place a kiss at the corner of her mouth before repeating the process on the right side. Once he had kissed her tears dry, and only then, did he allow his lips to find hers. Under the cover of night, he did his damndest to kiss away her fear and anything that scared her. He harbored enough fear for the two of them, and if he could ease hers just a bit, he’d do what he could. 

The sound of footsteps rounding the corner, crunching against the gravel pulled them apart. They found Dougie and Benny standing there, both wearing the disappointment on their faces with no attempt to hide it. 

“Ev,.” Doug sighed. “We gotta go. The light’s on.”

Part Four

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! A big huge thank you to @hephaestn for the stunning new mood board.

Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @bobparkhurst @rosiesriveter @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @prettyinlimegreenboots @manonsmanicmind @precious-little-scoundrel

[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*

[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."

[itstheheebiejeebies]

Everett Blakely, Harry Crosby, James Douglass, and Joseph "Bubbles" Payne take the opportunity some leave brings them to have a bit of fun together. Rated E

“Whatever you want tonight is what you get. We tend to trade off a bit, letting each of us get focused on on different nights. Tonight gets to be yours. Tell us what you want if you know, guide us, and let us take care of you.”

Beta'd by the lovely @ktredshoes and @upontherisers

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose - Part 9

read previous parts here.

It's time for the truth to come out, no matter what the cost. With friendship on the line, will Olive finally find it within herself to be truly honest?

Brakes screeching, cars colliding in the pouring rain. The smell of burning oil. An abrupt pain in the chest, a girl struggling to breathe. A man slumped on her, ailing gasps leaving his mouth as his life slipped away…

“No!” Olive yells, awakening herself with a cry. Feeling a heat rise in her chest, she tries to steady herself and breathe, gripping fistfuls of the blanket she'd been sleeping under. The soft snores of her best friend, Valencia DiRosano, in the bed opposite her own begin to settle her, Olive keeping in time with the hum of Val's breathing. 

Counting her lucky stars that her sudden yelp didn't awaken Val, she wipes the sheen of sweat from her face with her nightgown as she sits up, beginning to pad across to the bathroom. 

As she washes her face, Olive begins to count on her soapy fingers and tries to calculate how many days she'd been here without going to check on Pearl. Was it three? No, more. Four or five? A week? Surely not. Olive shakes her head at herself in the mirror in front of her, toothbrush in her mouth. She sees the tiredness etched on her face, her eyes beginning to look withdrawn. Something had to give, and soon. 

Rushing out the door, she's surprised to see a thick fog upon the air today. So thick, in fact, that she's unable to see much in her trajectory, walking to the hardstand by memory alone. It's when she bumps her shoulder on the wing of Just A-Snappin that she hears a loud bark in the distance, a gruff voice following it.

“Who is it, fella? Someone else out with us this early?”

“Shit,” Olive breathes, recognizing the voice as her friend Benny Demarco's. 

“Go get her then, buddy, go say good morning!”

Running up the stairs at a startling speed, Olive slams the door of the aircraft shut, hoping she wasn’t spotted after all.

***

The sun shines almost too brightly on Olive as she makes the walk to Pearl’s, quietly swinging open the metal gate and ridiculously shushing it as it squeaks, the scraping noise making her cringe. It’s when she reaches the door that she feels something untoward, the energy from outside seeming different than usual. Making her way in, pushing on the warped wooden door as she unlocks it, she is surprised to find Pearl alone in the kitchen, staring at the kettle and willing for it to boil faster. 

Olive accidentally shocks her Grandmother, making her presence known a lot more prematurely than planned when her keys clatter on the dining table.

“Christ alive!” Pearl yells, dramatically clutching her chest. “You little devil!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughs, holding her hands up in apology and mock surrender. “That wasn’t meant to be so loud.”

“Just like your bloody father,” she teases. “The expression ‘bull in a china shop’ comes to mind.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t know where we get it,” she replies, as Pearl clatters around with the sugar tin and stirs her now prepared tea with a spoon, clanging it on the mug with each clockwise spin. “You’re awake early, Grandma.”

“God forbid I want some alone time,” she winks, sipping at the beverage. “Between you coming in and out and Joan hovering, I barely get any time to myself in this place.”

“Hey, we can back off,” Olive cackles, taking the glass bottle of milk from the counter and putting it to her lips.

“I don’t think so, lady,” Pearl scolds, eyebrows raised. “Get a glass.”

“Yes, Grandma,” she sighs, leaning up on her tiptoes to retrieve her favorite one - Tots TV, a show from her childhood. Pearl spots it and smiles, her eyes softening with the nostalgia of remembering this young woman in front of her as a toddler, squeezed in the armchair with her as they both dozed, the sounds of the gentle theme song somehow lulling them both to sleep. 

“You know I’m only kidding, right, Ollie Pop?”

“About what?”

“The alone time, Joan hovering…”

“No, pal, I know. I’d feel quite the same to be honest.”

“I just miss my independence, y’know. Just being able to do little things myself. I seem to be getting stronger each day, though. Look, I even made my own tea!”

“I know. I’m proud of you,” Olive begins, emotion threatening to get the better of her. “You’ve come a long way. Soon enough, you’ll be back to your old self, up to your old tricks. Beating all the other ladies at bingo and seeing them bubble with anger over it.”

Her eyes narrow, a titter leaving her lips. “They know they’ve all got it coming, especially that Doreen. Cheating old hag.”

“Pearl!” Olive snorts, milk almost streaming from her nostrils. “At least you kept your humor.”

“At least there’s that, hm?” 

Pearl reaches over and grips her granddaughter’s hand, staring into her eyes for just a moment. 

“I like the outfit,” she says as Olive looks down at herself. Her eyes widen a little, realizing that she’d gotten dressed on autopilot: blue jumpsuit, boots, button down underneath. “Something for work?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Olive stutters, shaking her head at the inner voice picking at her brain, bullying her to tell the truth. “Something like that.”

“I don’t usually go for re-enactment stuff, Ol, but I must say, they’re keeping very accurate.”

“How so?”

“Well, putting British girls in Red Cross uniforms. I don’t know how they managed it, but when I was over at the base, doing my work as a Land Girl, the lovely American girls acquired one more lass. It’s as if she appeared out nowhere; a British girl, but she fit right in. I don’t know how they got to keep her on because I heard the requirements were crazy!”

“Haha,” Olive forces out, keeping her eyes on the table. She hopes that, by avoiding eye contact, she won’t be able to give anything away. Nevertheless, Pearl carries on.

“She had a lovely boyfriend. He was gorgeous, had these beautiful blue eyes. She was always laughing at everything he said.”

“Obviously a funny guy, Pearly,” Olive giggles, the thought of every silly joke of Dougie’s coming to mind.

“Must’ve been,” she nods. “But I had my eye on someone else, you see.”

“Who?” Olive urges, keen to be reminded. She rests her elbow on the table, her cheek resting on her hand. “Tell me, tell me!”

“I don’t remember his name, but I’m sure I’ve mentioned him before. He was so handsome. He and his dog would cause such chaos.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Olive mumbles, clearing her throat. “You never thought to ask him for a dance?”

“He asked me out for a drink, but it never happened. I was moving away by the time I could say yes, and I never remembered his name to send him a letter to apologize. Poor boy probably thinks I stood him up!”

“Yeah,” Olive laughs weakly. She stands, walking over to Pearl and plants a kiss on her cheek. 

“What’s that for?”

“Just love your little stories, girly. You should write them all down for me.”

“I actually–”

The pair are distracted by the door swinging open, the wind seeming to try to take it off its hinges as it slams against the wall. 

“And you thought I was loud,” Olive gestures, shaking her head. “Hi, Joan.”

“Ah, this is a surprise.”

“Not really, Joan. I do live here.”

“You know what I mean, Olive,” she sighs, patting Pearl on the shoulder. “Thanks for getting her up.”

“No need, she did that all by herself. Made a tea and everything.”

“You don’t have to talk about me like I’m not in the bloody room,” she interjects, exasperated. “Yes, Joan, I got out of my own bed and made my own tea. Like a regular person should.”

“I’m glad,” Joan says, her shoulders falling a little with relief. “Fancy going into town and having a look around the shops? Lunch, too? My treat.”

“That’ll be lovely,” Pearl smiles, nodding along at her suggestion. “Change of scenery and some fresh air will do me good.”

Joan turns to Olive before going to pour her own cup of tea. “You’re welcome to join us, of course, Olive.”

“Thanks, Joan, but I’m gonna clean up around here a little. My bedroom is a sty and it needs a good tidy. You two have fun, though!”

“You need anything bringing back, kiddo?”

“Nah, Pearly. I’m all set.”

***

After showering - Olive willing to never take a power shower for granted ever again - and throwing on her comfiest clothes while her jumpsuit was in the washing machine, she began to tidy. She began at her bookshelf, placing her precious books straight before becoming easily distracted, thumbing through well worn copies of A Midsummer Night’s Dream, Hamlet and Much Ado About Nothing. Fishing for a backpack from under her bed, she stuffs each book in with care, glad to find something to occupy her mind when there was no work to be done on mission days.

It’s when she’s dusting the shelves that something falls from a height. A sparkling gold catches her eye from the floor, Olive holding her breath in both disbelief and anticipation as she bends down to pick it up. She holds the locket in her hands for the first time in years, turning it over in her hands thrice before opening it up.

“Hello,” she speaks softly, keeping the words for the man in the picture. “Where’ve you been hiding?” 

Olive holds the heart shaped pendant in her hand a few moments more, taking in the features and expressions of her father, Oscar. There he was, smiling so gleefully that he was blushing, his cheeks a delightful shade of pink as he holds a small baby close to him. Baby Olive, a few weeks old, is looking at her father with awe, the same expression she carried on her face for the rest of his life whenever he was around. Her heart pounds unpleasantly as her mind reruns her dream from this morning; the crash, the car buckling all around them. Oscar slumping on his daughter as he took his final breath…

Olive snaps the locket closed at the memory, willing her brain to muster up better ones they shared. She places the chain around her neck and clasps it at the back, hoping that by wearing it, by keeping him close again, the bad memories can be saturated. 

***

Olive pulls out a sheet of paper and grabs a pen, intending to write Pearl and Joan a letter to explain her absence from the house when the door opens, the pair of them traipsing in with a shiver. 

“It’s cold out there, Ollie Pop,” Pearl shudders, nodding her head towards Olive’s coat that’s upon the hook as she looks at the jumpsuit she is wearing. “Wear something more than that if you’re heading out.”

“I was just about to write down that I was off again. Are you sure you don’t need me?”

“Absolutely sure,” Joan responds, closing the door behind her out of habit despite Olive saying she was about to leave. “Your grandma is right though, it’s bloody freezing. That wind has got a bite to it.”

“Turned quickly,” Olive observes, pulling on the mentioned jacket. “It was sunny when I got here.”

“Wasn’t it? Good old temperamental British weather, hm?”

“Got that right. Well, I’m off,” Olive announces, pecking Pearl on the cheek and giving her a quick squeeze.

“Don’t get lost!”

“Me? Never.”

***

There had been some ungraceful descents from the fort over the few weeks of going back and forth between the years, but today’s was about to go on record as the worst. Assuming that Kenny, Wink or one of the ground crew, had seen fit to leave the stairs exactly where they had been earlier this morning, Olive sticks one foot out of the door, only to be surprisingly greeted with air beneath her feet. Before she can register what’s happening, she steps down, sending herself flying through the air to the ground with a yelp.

“Fuck me,” she cries, once again finding herself winded on the hardstand of Thorpe Abbotts. Slowly gaining her breath back, she sits up, only to be greeted by a rowdy husky who is intent on giving one of his favorite girls a good morning kiss as a hello.

“Dang dog,” she giggles, scritching the space between his ears. “Morning.”

“Olive! Knew it was you,” Benny says, making his presence known by coming out of the fog. “What the hell are you doing all the way out here this early? Lemmons isn’t hankering for a donut that bad is he?”

“No, errm, no, no, he isn’t,” Olive winces, her voice raising a few octaves as she bites through another set of lies today. She sighs, standing up and brushing herself off. “I was just coming back from–”

His face is suddenly serious, the most solemn she’s ever seen him. “What are you doing out here, Ol?”

“Well, I–it’s just…” she stutters, her mouth filling with saliva as she talks. “I’m–ugh, Benny, I can’t lie to you.”

He crosses his arms, ready for an answer. He shakes his head, his eyebrows raised in an agitated manner. “Well?”

“Remember how I fell at your feet a few weeks ago?”

“Uh-huh…”

“And how it’s like I just appeared out of nowhere? Thin air?”

“Get to the point, Ol.”

“Jeez, okay,” she snides back, wincing in preparation for his reaction. “I’m from the future.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m from the future,” she repeats, seeing Benny’s arms uncross and his face go back to its usual kind expression. “I’m from the year 2021.”

“Hold on,” he says, the palm of his hand now resting on his forehead. “But how–”

“Dunno, bud. I clambered into this thing in my time and ended up here, in 1943. Fighting this war with you all.”

“I just–who else knows?”

“Kenny, Wink, and now you.”

“Val?”

“Not yet, Benny. I haven’t found the right time, or the right way to explain it. I mean, listen to me. It’s insane!”

“Got that right,” he exhales, puffing his cheeks. “Kenny found out before me? Before Dougie? Before Val?!”

“Listen, Kenny caught me the other night and I can’t lie very well, as you’ve just beared witness to. What else was I supposed to do when he caught me clambering up the stairs of a B-17?”

“Look, I can understand you not telling me, Dougie and Ev just yet. But Val? I’m surprised at you, Olive.”

“Yeah,” she squeaks, her throat closing around a lump within it. “Because, like, what if they don’t believe me, hm? What then?”

“I believe you,” Benny says, his voice soft on the cool morning breeze. “You’re my baby sis. I believe you. I’ll back you up, Ol.”

“You will?”

“Always! It’s fucking nuts,” he laughs, shaking his head and shrugging. “But I believe you.”

“How do you believe me so easily? And with no questions?”

“I don't know. I just feel like you of all people wouldn't lie to me.” He pauses for a second. “Also, pretty wild thing to lie about, huh?”

She laughs, the sound crawling up from her belly.

“Right? Anyway, baby sis is actually quite literal now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he laughs again. “What year were you born?”

“1997.”

“Jesus Christ,” he gasps, running a hand through his hair. Looking a little less stressed, he finds her hand and grips it. “Something tells me you were always meant to be here, pal.”

“You know what, I think so, too. Meatball wouldn’t have led me here otherwise.”

He nods, petting the dog at his feet. “You want me to walk you home?”

“Please,” she agrees, linking her arm through his. “I’m knackered.”

“Nah-kurred,” Benny mocks, keeping Olive close so they don’t lose one another in the thick fog that hasn’t budged since they woke up this morning.

“Don’t take the piss, Bernard. I’ll spit in your eye.”

“There it is. I see learning from Val is going well.”

***

Benny pulls her into a comforting embrace upon escorting her back to the Red Cross hut, opening the door for her as gently as he can while trying - and failing -  to keep Meatball quiet so as to not wake the other girls. 

“Shut your pie hole, pal,” he whispers, his teeth gritted. “Yes, yes, it is breakfast time. You think I don’t know that? Maybe put your friends before your stomach just this once.” 

As Benny talks, Meatball’s head tilts this way and that as if he is truly listening and understanding every word. Both Olive and Benny see the dog’s ears prick up just once during their exchange: when the word ‘breakfast’ was mentioned. 

“Heard your belly rumble, too, Demarco,” Olive observes, the subtle sound ceasing as he lets out a sigh. 

“I am. But I’m not crazy about those eggs, Ol.”

“No shit, buddy. Be patient; East Anglia’s finest donuts, coming right up.”

“Can’t wait,” he says, beginning to walk away. “C’mon, Meatball, let’s go.”

Seeing him and the mutt disappear back into the fog, Olive creeps through the door that Benny had opened for her, hoping that both Val and Helen were still snoozing. Much to her relief, they are, Valencia still snoring the same way she was when Olive left, and Helen, wrapped up in her blanket like a caterpillar waiting to emerge from its chrysalis. 

Olive slings the bag off her shoulder and places it on her bunk before sitting down, pulling the dog-eared copies of the books she retrieved from her bedroom at Pearl’s out of the bag. She begins thumbing through them once again, grabbing a stray pencil and begins to annotate, already keen to present Brady’s girl, Jules, with another analysis in the coming weeks. It’s a line in Hamlet that catches her eye, quickly underlining it before snapping the book shut as Valencia begins to stir.

‘This above all: to thine own self be true, And it must follow, as the night the day…Thou canst not then be false to any man.’

“Morning, chickie,” Val yawns, stretching her arms above her head with a groan before standing up and making her way to the washroom, rubbing at her eyes as she goes. On her way, she shakes Helen awake, a pained moan coming from the cocoon she’s created herself. 

“Not yet,” she whines, nuzzling back into her pillow. “I was just about to have my big kissing moment with Jimmy Stewart.”

“Well, you can resume that at bedtime,” Val shouts behind her. “There’s donuts to be made, and a certain Herbert Nash to look at.”

“Well, if you’re putting it that way…”

“If it gets you out of bed, doll, I’ll say anything.

***

“Good morning, kids,” Tattie greets, flinging open the door to the hut with her foot. Her hands are full, the objects clanging as she sets them down on a small table. “Right, some housekeeping. Pulled some strings with the friends in high places, and Olive,” she says, turning to her with her hands on her hips, “you’re being allowed to stay.”

“All about who ya know, isn’t it, Tat?”

“Indeed,” she nods, a triumphant smile making her eyes crinkle. “I mean, look at this face! What kind of father would say no to this? Even if he can’t see it, he knows I’d be giving him the puppy eyes. Think the memory of that weakened him.” She pauses for a second, picking up the silver objects she’d discarded a moment earlier. “Anyway, in regards to that, we’ve all been given dog tags to wear now, as part of our uniform.” 

She gives each girl their dog tag, the tag itself looped on the regulation silver ball chain. Olive places hers around her neck before tucking it into her jumpsuit, the tag dangling just below where her locket sits neatly on her clavicle. 

“Let’s get going, girls,” Tattie coos, a mother hen herding her little chicks. The weather shocks both Valencia and Helen, the pair of them looking at their surroundings with wide eyes.

“They can’t fly in this, surely?” Helen says, shaking her head with worry.

“Surely not,” Val replies, slipping her hand into Olive’s. It feels clammy, Olive feeling the anxiety emanate off her instantly. “They’ll be grounded. Chicky will ground them, right?” Val squeezes at Olive’s hand for a response, the second girl unsure if Val was talking out loud or expecting an answer. Olive clears her throat, squeezing back reassuringly.

“Right,” she agrees, her head on Val’s shoulder for just a fleeting moment. “I think you’re right.”

As they reach the truck, they are surprised to see four men standing around it, two leaning against it for balance. Jack Kidd, Everett Blakely, James Douglass and Herbert Nash all deep in conversation, exchanging stories of home and their families, perk up even more at the sight of their girls in the early morning light.

“What in the world…” Valencia begins, her footsteps picking up pace to greet Everett with a good morning kiss. Olive feels herself do the same to reach her guy, followed by Helen. The only one that keeps their cool is Tattie Spaatz, addressing Kidd with only a quiet hello. 

“Hello, you,” Olive murmurs, leaning up to kiss Dougie. “How are you?”

“Morning, dumpling,” he replies, nuzzling into her.

“What did you call me?” she laughs, her arms wrapping around him. “Never heard that as a pet name before.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Not my favorite,” she replies, rubbing her nose against his. “Maybe try some others?”

“Oh, uh. Don’t worry, there’s a few more up here,” he responds, tapping his finger to his temple.

“Get away,” she teases, shoving him softly. “When did you all orchestrate this early morning surprise, anyhow?”

“When we all walked to bed last night. The four of us, we thought it would be a nice idea.”

“It was. It really was,” she says, kissing him again. “If you stay, coffee will be ready in a few.”

“What do you think I’m here for? No sugar, please, lovey.”

“I know…oh, that one’s sweet. I like that one!”

He grins at her cheekily, that twinkle in his eye ever present. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he says, his cheeks turning pink. 

“You’re cute,” she teases, pinching his cheek softly and turning to climb into the truck.

***

Coffee finally brewed and a batch of donuts ready for the hungry men of Thorpe Abotts, the gang hears the slap of feet running on the pavement, and the sound of two small children giggling. Billy and Sammy race their way to the Clubmobile as fast as their legs would carry them, almost diving headfirst into the counter.

“Steady on, lads, you almost took out Captain Blakely!” Olive urges, picking up two fresh donuts for them. “Just out of the fryer.”

“Wow, thanks, Miss,” Sammy says. Val joins them, holding two cups of coffee for the boys. “Don’t tell your mothers, for God’s sake,” she says, patting Sammy on the shoulder and ruffling through Billy’s curls. The youngins cheer quietly, excited over being given this, to them, forbidden beverage.

“You’re giving already excitable children coffee? Before school? Jesus, that poor teacher.”

“Don’t sweat it, Ol. It’s mostly milk.”

“Ohhhh. Smart.”

“Not just a pretty face,” she cackles, heading back to the truck.

“The prettiest, though,” Ev interjects, handing her his half smoked cigarette. “Maude,” he nods in her direction. “Any idea where Dougie went?”

“Absolutely none,” she shrugs, confused. She hadn’t even seen him leave, and was a little sore at his sudden exit without so much as a goodbye. She huffs a little, lighting her own cigarette and letting the smoke from the first drag stream through her nostrils. 

“Okay, sourpuss,” Ev japes, pointing through the fog that's beginning to clear. “Here he comes.”

“Where did you go?” Olive asks, her face still etched with a little sadness.

“Forgot something,” he responds breathlessly, smiling down at his girl. He has a jacket strewn over his shoulder, and hands it to her as he takes the cigarette from her mouth and pulls on it. “This is for you.”

“For me?” she gasps, unfolding it. It smells just like him, and covered in different patches that he’d obviously exchanged for smokes. She grins at him, lost for words. “This is–wow.”

“It’s for when I’m not here,” he murmurs, helping her put it on. “So you can feel close to me.”

“That’s so sweet, Dougie. Thank you.” She fumbles for a second, panicking. “I don’t have anything to give you!”

“Hey, don’t worry about it–”

“Wait!” she yelps, fiddling with her collar. “I do have something.” 

She fiddles with the two chains around her neck, pulling at the spare dog tag that hangs a little lower than the other. She unclasps it and hands it to him; his turn to be speechless, his mouth open in surprise and a hand running quickly through his neatly pomaded hair. 

“Gee, Ollie. Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“That’s–heh, now I don’t know what to say. You’re really my girl, huh?”

“Sure am.” 

He grabs her by the back of her neck and kisses her deeply, her hands finding balance on his chest as she’s thrust into him. They feel one another smile as their lips meet, a moment that makes them feel like they’re in their own little world. 

He places the tag around his own chain after they break apart, Olive's tag dangling close to his heart. 

“Ah,” he mutters, patting it gently. “Perfect.” 

She grins at him, heat rising from her chest and spreading over her cheeks. He glances down at her open jumpsuit, her clavicle still visible. His eyes light up when he sees the gold locket sitting pretty, hand coming out to touch it. 

“Got room for me in there?”

“You know it,” she swoons. “Right next to my Papa.” Her fingers touch his as she takes the locket from his gentle grasp, beginning to open it and not paying a thought to the color picture of her father within it. The world seems to slow down as the locket almost opens, everything coming back into focus at the sound of Everett Blakely's voice from the back of the truck.

“Doug, you need more smokes?” he calls, Dougie planting a quick kiss to Olive’s forehead and rushing over to him. She exhales a breath she barely noticed she had been withholding, opening the locket for just a quick second. 

“I'll tell him, promise,” she whispers to the picture. “I'll tell them all.”

“Come on, ya rabble. Get inside!” Chick Harding struts out of the briefing room, making his way up to Val at the window of the truck. He opens his mouth to ask for his coffee, mouth left hanging open as Valencia places the cup in front of him, already made to his exact taste. She pours a second for Red Bowman before placing two donuts on napkins and wordlessly handing the goodies over. 

“Thank you, Valencia,” he says, clearly surprised. “I need to get you girls together real quick. Miss Tattie, can you close up once the fellas are all in briefing?”

“Errm…yes?” She replies, clearly confused. She looks towards her girls, shrugging. “I guess start cleaning up a little, we'll come back to it.”

“We're not in trouble, are we?” Helen asks, her eyes worriedly darting between her friends. “I mean, I know we aren't exactly allowed to form romances with the men, it's right there in the rules, but…”

“It's a silly rule,” Tattie responds, puffing on her cigarette. “How do they expect us not to form bonds with these fellas?”

“Don't stress yourself, chicken,” Olive joins, pulling her into a hug. “I'm sure Chicky just wants to remind us that we need to keep Meatball tied to the post.” 

“You're probably right. He hasn't mentioned knowing about Nash and I, neither has Red, so–”

“Helen, that man has eyes in the back of his ass. He knows everything: the all seeing eyes from the watchtower.”

“Okay, that's not terrifying at all. Save it for Halloween, English!”

***

Red Bowman stands broadly at the door of the briefing hut, hands on his hips as the girls walk towards him. Val is sporting that signature furrow, albeit softer this time, as if she is deep in anxious thought.

“Spaatz, DiRosano, Porter, Lewis,” he greets, nodding at each of them as he says their name. “Come on in.”

They follow him silently, the girls catching the eye of some of the men as they enter. Chicky spots them from where he is standing across the room, fat cigar freshly lit between his teeth.

“Girls,” he says in that thundering voice of his. 

“Chicky,” Tattie responds as he joins them near the door. Lighting a smoke of her own, she looks at him suspiciously. “Care to reveal why you’ve pulled us in here?”

“Need ya to look after that damn mutt,” he huffs, a billow of smoke leaving his nostrils and mouth as he replies. “Make sure he don’t distract the boys none.”

“Uh-huh,” Tattie responds, still staring at him narrow-eyed. “Surely you don’t need all four of us to do that? Meatball is hard work but, sir, not that dang hard.”

He laughs, gesturing for the girls to move closer to him. They bunch in, including Red, the communal circle growing tighter at his silent command. “Bowman, tell ‘em.”

Red clears his throat and finally relaxes his stance. “We don’t just want ya in here to watch the dog. We’ve seen how close some of ya have got to these men and we don’t feel it’s fair to keep ya in the dark. It’s a big one, and we don’t want ya moping around and playing guessing games. We want ya all in the know. Got me?”

“We gotcha,” Val replies. “Doesn’t lessen the worry though, Red.”

“No, I know,” he agrees, exhaling an audible deep breath through his nose. “But it takes away the mystery. They’d tell ya anyway, but…”

“But you think we deserve to know,” Olive squeaks, nodding in agreement. 

“That’s right.”

Tattie finally lets her eyes open wider, also nodding along. Helen joins, her lips pressed together in a line of worry. “Where shall we sit?”

“At the back if you don’t mind, girls,” Chicky interjects, showing them to four spare seats. “Keep that mutt under control. No playing fetch during the briefing!”

At the word ‘fetch,’ a whine shrills from Meatball, the husky suddenly ready to play. 

“Not now, buddy,” Olive soothes, scritching at his fur before taking her seat. “Later, mkay?”

Distracted by giving attention to Meatball, Olive doesn’t register the large presence of Curt Biddick sauntering up to them and greeting Val in the same way he has since childhood.

“There she is!” he cries. “There’s the gal. Hey, whatcha doin’ in here? This ain’t your usual spot before a mission.”

“We know,” she murmurs, standing to relay the information Red and Chicky gave them. They speak in hushed tones, Olive noticing Curt nodding at every appropriate stage of the conversation. 

“Well, that’s good of him to think of ya like that,” he says, his hand gripping at hers. “Yous all should be in the know. It’s only right.”

“You wanna sit with us?” Olive offers, patting a spare seat on the right of her.

“Nah, thanks though, Ol. Dickie saved me a spot up front.”

“Ah, grand,” she nods, going back to the dog and drowning him in the attention he keeps whining for.

“Well, I’ll be seein’ yous. Val, make me a coffee after.”

“Pain in my ass!”

***

As the briefing begins, Olive feels Helen next to her, elbowing her gently.

“Hey, Ol!” she whispers through her teeth, head nodding towards where James Douglass is sat next to Harry Crosby. 

“Mhm?” Olive replies, catching Dougie turn around and wink at her at the same moment. She smiles at him softly, winking back.

“That,” she giggles, hand covering her mouth to muffle the sound as Chick Harding’s voice blares throughout the room and capturing the attention of each airman. “I was trying to tell you that.”

“So high school,” she teases, shaking her head and joining in the giggles. “What a sweetie.”

“He loves you,” she says, a knowing look in her eyes.

“Oh, shut it, Porter,” she bites back, smiling nonetheless. 

“And you love him.”

“Give over, doll. I’ll spit in your eye.”

“Go for it. I’d take it, because I know I’m right.”

Olive sighs, shaking her head and leaning against her. She feels Meatball finally settle, his head on her legs and huffing slightly, surrounded by all his people and none of them willing to play.

“Quit sassing,” Olive softly scolds, petting his soft ears. “We will play later.”

“What’s up?” Val leans over, reaching to pat Meatball. 

“He’s having a tantrum ‘cos all his friends are in the same room and not a single one can play.”

“He’s just a baby, that’s why,” Helen coos, making kissy faces at him. 

“Girls, don’t make Chicky regret inviting us in here,” Tattie hisses, passing cigarettes down the line. “Hush up, please.”

“Yes, ma’am,” they all say in unison, suddenly sitting up straight and keen to listen.

The curtain that is covering a large map on the wall is pulled - almost with a flourish - by the Colonel, the airmen making noises of suspense. It's Curt, sitting a few rows ahead of the usual guys, next to his co-pilot Dickie, who speaks first, his voice a little softer than everyone else is used to. 

“Why's that line go all the way to Africa?”

“Africa?!” The word leaves Olive's mouth in a squeak before she can stop it, clapping a hand over her mouth immediately following it. Meatball whimpers at the sudden mood change, those literal puppy eyes full of concern that his girl is suddenly afraid. 

“Here,” Val says, elbowing Olive gently in the ribs. She hands her Tattie’s hip flask, shoving it in her hand. “Calm yourself.”

Olive does so, taking a chaste gulp from the flask and wincing at the burn of the alcohol racing down her throat. 

“Better?”

She nods, handing it back to Val so it reaches its original owner. Val looks back at Olive with the same concern that's gripped Meatball, her hand suddenly gripping Olive’s.

“Doll, you've never reacted like this.”

“I'm aware,” Olive whispers back, her voice shaking. “Fucking Africa, Valencia. Africa.”

Her nervousness momentarily fades away as Dougie turns around to smile at her again, her grinning back instantly. They hold it for a moment, Olive getting lost in his beautiful eyes even from this distance. She feels Helen nudge her again, nodding triumphantly.

“I didn't say you were wrong, doll.”

“Oh, I knew it, English!”

***

“See you all in a few days,” is Colonel Harding’s departing remark as the airmen begin to file out of the room. Tattie is the one to lead the girls out, the three others following her like ducks in a row once again. Olive is so distracted by not bumping into a dozen other men that she barely notices Dougie waiting for her in the doorway, along with Ev who is waiting for Valencia.

“How did you sneak in this time, babydoll?”

“No sneaking required, James,” she grins, him pulling her into an embrace. “We were invited. Chick and Red thought it appropriate to let us in on what you boys are doing - lessens the anxiety apparently.”

“And did it help any?”

“Not one bit,” Olive replies. “Enemy territory,” she says, her voice squeaking as her throat closes, the effort of keeping tears at bay. “Then fucking Africa.”

“Hey, now,” he soothes, his hand on the side of her neck, his thumb stroking her cheek. “I’ll be home before you know it. I’ll even write you.”

“There won't be much point,” she laughs. “I'll end up getting it after you get home.”

“Hey, it's the thought that counts, right?”

She smiles, despite the single tear falling from her cheek. He wipes it away as soon as he sees it drop, a soft, comforting smile on his face. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah,” she sniffs. “I’m a tough girl.”

He nods. “I know you are.”

“I can take care of myself, don’t you fret.”

“You have,” he says. “You still do. You always will.” He leans in and kisses her sweetly on the lips, his hand still upon her now blushed cheek. “I’ve just joined in, too. Now we take care of each other, hm?”

She nods, pressing her nose and forehead to his, feeling every worry melt away for just a moment. He breaks the silence, moving back a little and holding her hand with his free one.

“Kept seeing your cute little smile while we were in there. I loved it.”

“Gosh, you’re just obsessed with me, aren’t you?” She replies with a giggle, obviously joking; she doesn’t expect his face to fall serious, his eyes darting all over her face, not quite being able to figure out where to look first. He settles on her eyes and then her mouth as he moves to kiss her again.

“Sure am, sugar.”

The pair are distracted by Tattie sauntering over, being followed by an overly giggly Helen who is trying to control a very giddy Meatball.

“Girls, there’s a truck to re-open and more hungry fellas hankering for donuts. Quit necking!” Despite her clear irritation, she winks at both Olive and Val, beckoning them to follow her once again. 

“Come on, handsome,” Olive says, pulling Dougie by the hand. “Let me get you a snack for the journey.”

***

“Meatball! Meatball, no!” Helen scolds, trying her best to tie his leash to the pole that stands right beside the Clubmobile. Seeing Helen crouch in front of him, he thinks it’s time to play, the hyper husky panting in her face. His tail begins to wag as he sees her reach into the pocket of her jumpsuit but is dismayed to find she has only reached in there to grab a handkerchief, capturing a surprise sneeze. “This dog hair! Tickles my nose something fierce.” Eyes now streaming, Helen struggles with completing the knot and looks towards her companions for assistance.

“Ol, a little help please! You’re the only one he listens to besides DeMarco.”

At the mention of his owner’s name, Meatball howls loudly and continues panting and wagging in excitement. Making her way to him and Helen, Olive laughs.

“He can’t hear you from all the way out here, buddy!” She takes the leash from Helen and ties it with a flourish in seconds, Helen looking on impressively. “Helen, we cannot say his name! You know that by now!”

“My bad!” She titters, groaning as she wipes at her eyes again. “He’s adorable but my goodness, these allergies.” 

A Jeep breaks through the fog with a loud screech, the noise startling the girls and the dog. Val, lighting a cigarette as she exits the truck, joins the other girls in order to investigate while Tattie continues cleaning, mumbling out loud to herself - something that the girls have deciphered she does when she is anxious.

“Garcia,” Val greets, recognizing him instantly. “How can we help ya?”

“Just wanted to let you all know, the boys have got a thirty minute delay. If ya wanted to say goodbye again, drop em another hot coffee to keep their spirits up.”

“Say less,” Olive replies, unhooking Meatball from his leash and gesturing for him to follow her. She clambers in, the dog leaping into her lap instantly. Val grabs another two coffees and a bag of donuts, Tattie and Helen waving them off.

“Step on it, Garcia,” Val laughs. “They’ll take the news better if it comes from us.”

“You got that right, DiRosano. Sure they like looking at you both a hell of a lot more than they like looking at me!”

Speeding through the mist, Garcia huffs a little, the brightest setting of lights not able to break through it. “It’s a real pea-souper, this one.”

“Do you reckon they’ll call it off?” Olive enquires, hoping for the answer she wants to hear.

“Not a chance, Lewis. This is a big one. Brass have taken a lotta risks and–well, I’d better zip it.”

“Nothing I won’t find out in a few weeks when I’m typing Chicky’s reports up,” Val retorts, reaching around to pet Meatball. “No need to keep it quiet.”

They conclude their 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, Olive patting Meatball on the rear to get him off her lap. Swiping at her navy blue jumpsuit to rid it of the hair, she loses him in the smog instantly and throws a ball in the direction he ran off in. Grabbing Val’s hand, as if she’s somehow able to lead her to the crew of Just A-Snappin’, she smiles at her wanely.

“Chickie, I can see through this haze just as well as you.”

“This way we don’t lose each other,” Olive cackles in return, resting her head on Val’s shoulder for a short second.

“Oh, never, girl. Never ever.” 

She looks her friend up and down as they walk hand in hand, Olive trying to wrap Dougie’s jacket around her with her spare hand. 

“Dougie’s?” Val asks, gesturing. 

“Yeah! Sewed all these on himself. Ain't it neat?”

“Sewed…himself?”

“Yeah!”

“Ol, I've been sewing his stuff since Ev and I started dating…oh, wait til I get my hands on him!”

***

“Looky here!” Dougie yells, clumsily getting up from the ground. “What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Garcia wanted us to share some news…”

“Uh-huh?”

“Thirty minute delay!” The girls yell in unison, trying their best to add some cheer to it. Olive even accompanies it with a singsong voice and jazz hands, Dougie almost falling over himself laughing at her. 

“The Clubmobile serving snacks and putting on a show now, Maude?” Everett Blakely pipes up as Val kisses him on the cheek.

“Hey, get it for free while you can. Olive and The Clubmobile Gals. It's got some pizzazz to it, huh?”

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

“You bet, Ernest,” she laughs, feeling Dougie wrap his arms around her waist and give her a squeeze.

“This is the best way bad news has ever been given to me.”

“Those three years of drama school had to come in handy somewhere, my love. Here,” she says, handing him a brown bag full to burst with donuts. “For everyone, mind!”

“All of us?” Ev asks. “No chance. Via and Saunders don’t like donuts, Kidd and I are too busy flying the damn fort to even think about having a snack break, and Croz…” The group look over at him, laying on the concrete hardstand with his eyes closed, his head upon his briefcase. 

“Croz won’t keep ‘em down,” Dougie interjects, a triumphant expression on his face. “Looks like they’re all for me!”

“I've got a bone to pick with you, Douglass!” Val interjects, that classic brow furrow joined by a mischievous smile.

“What?!” he snorts, mouth full of donut. “What've I done now?”

“You're in trouble, baby boy.”

“You! Sewing!?”

“Oh–shit,” he swallows, holding his hands up defensively around a grin. “I know when I've been caught!”

“I've been–”

“I know,” he replies, laughing at her extremely pissed off expression. “Just makes me feel safer.”

Val softens instantly, as does Olive, the pair of them aww-ing and cooing at him. 

“Darling,” Olive pouts, kissing his cheek. “Very cute.”

“The puppy eyes work every time,” he retorts, grabbing Olive’s hand.

“Oh, you little shit!”

The group  make their way to where Croz is snoozing, Dougie sitting behind Olive so she can lean on him to get somewhat comfy as Valencia,  joined by Ev, sidles up to Curt the moment she spots him appearing through the fog.

“Drew you somethin’,” Dougie murmurs, digging around in the pocket of his sheepskin. 

“When?” Olive asks, shoulders beginning to shake from giggling. “How?”

“Just before you got here. I was gonna send it with your letter but you may as well have it now.” He hands her a small piece of neatly folded paper, an expectant look on his face as she opens it. He has drawn two ladybirds, nestled together on a leaf with the caption ‘Can I bug you forever?’

“Oh, gee,” Olive says, absolutely tickled. “I love the ladybirds.”

“Ladybugs, honey girl.”

“Ladybir–what did you call me?”

She feels her cheeks glow pink at this new pet name, the first that’s made her insides feel like they’re melting. 

“Oh, you like that one!”

“I absolutely do. Stick with that one. That’s lovely.”

“You’re lovely.”

“Oh, stop,” she teases, leaning up so he can plant a kiss on her temple. She presses her forehead on his chin, him squeezing her to his body in reciprocation. “You’re such a sweetie.”

They’re silent for a few moments, them both savoring the embrace. His hands feel warm as he places them in her lap, his nose burying itself in her neck as he kisses her there gently. With Everett joining them again, sans Val, she looks to her left, spotting Val and Curt a short distance away - a sign that the fog is clearing just a little. Olive sees them hug, Val holding him a little tighter this time. He smiles softly at her, bidding her farewell. She stares after him wistfully as he walks away and disappears into the ether. 

***

As Valencia returns to rejoin the group, sitting and chatting underneath their fort, Everett stands to greet her. 

“You okay, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” she stammers out, a shaky breath leaving her lips as Ev reaches up to wipe her eyes and pull her into a hug. He takes her hand as he sits on the concrete again, gently pulling her with him.

“C'mere, come sit,” he says, patting his knee. “Got a riddle to share.”

She perches on his lap as Dougie wakes a snoring Croz by whacking him on the leg. 

“Hmm!” Croz grumbles, his brow furiously furrowed. “What now, Doug?”

“Ev has a riddle to tell us.”

“You woke me up for a friggin’ riddle?”

“Thought you could do with waking up your brain,” Dougie teases, Crosby swatting at him.

“Fine. Go on, Blakely, the floor is yours.”

The captain takes a pull from his Lucky Strike before beginning, clearing his throat as he speaks:

“You’re on the way to purgatory–”

“Purgatory?”

“Yes, Maude, purgatory. You’re on the way to purgatory, and one road goes to Valhalla. The other goes to Hell, damnation, the abyss, what have you.”

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

“On each of the roads, is a goblin…”

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

“If you'd let me get through more than one line, English, you'd find out. One goblin tells the truth, the other always lies. He's a tricky little fucker, a little mischievous.”

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

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

“Wait…would you ask both of them if either are the good goblin?”

“Jesus, English, I was about to say that!” Croz yelps, frisbeeing his crush cap at her.

“Snooze ya lose, Harry!” She throws it right back, catching him in the abdomen. It winds him slightly, Crosby sitting up quickly and wincing. 

“Good shot,” he wheezes, holding a hand up in defeat as Olive checks on him, laughing at his faux coughs. 

With a laugh, Dougie brings the group back to the conversation. 

“I have a riddle!” 

“Please, regale us,” Val says, lighting a cigarette and handing it across to Olive. Dougie winks down at Olive, a knowing glint in his eye.

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

“And a zippo? Douglass, we've heard that one a thousand times now, pal.”

Despite hearing it for what feels like the thousandth time herself, Olive begins to giggle in front of James, him joining in as he nuzzles into her again. “Yeah, but this is why I tell it. For the prettiest smile in the world.”

“I love that one,” she titters, reaching up to kiss him.

“I know you do,” he murmurs, reciprocating her kiss just as lovingly. “And I love y–”

“That a flare?” Croz cuts in, his eyes narrowing as he tries to make sense of the light in the distance that's now falling speedily to the ground. 

“Time to go, fellas,” Ev commands, his crew jumping up at his tone. He kisses Val deeply, before wrapping his arms around her, whispering sweet nothings in her ear to look forward to his return home. 

After he helps her stand, Dougie takes Olive’s face in his hands and traces her mouth with the pad of his thumb, as if to try and memorize its shape.

“What were you about to say?” she asks, their faces coming closer together and their noses meeting. 

“Tell you when I get home, honey girl.”

“No, now!” she demands, kissing him deeply. 

“You're cute when you're pissed off.”

“Doesn't mean you should do it often, cheeky.”

“I'll write you, okay?”

“Okay,” she quivers, hand on his sweet face. “Please come home to me.”

“Nowhere else I'd rather be, babydoll.” 

He moves her hand from his face, kissing her palm one, two, three times before walking away, Olive watching him until he's out of sight.

***

“You heard that, right?” Olive gasps, her hand gripping on to Val's arm. “What Dougie said, you heard it?”

“Yes, I did. I heard it, Ol. He loves you!” she squeals, handing Meatball’s leash back to her as he leads them back to the truck, sniffing through the mist. 

“I didn't think–”

“Olive Lewis!” Val shouts, that Brooklyn twang adding an extra umph to Olive’s name. “Don't make me give you a slap.”

“I'm not!” she protests, rolling her eyes. “I just…”

“We all know you love him, too, doll. You'd have to be blind to not notice it.”

“Is it really that obvious?” 

“Limpido come il giorno, my girl.”

“In English, please.”

“As plain as the nose on ya face.”

Arriving back at the Clubmobile thanks to Meatball’s dog senses, Val and Olive rejoin Helen and Tattie, the girls standing outside of the truck sharing a cigarette. Dainty coughs leave Helen as she tries to inhale, her sweet, kind eyes filling up with tears at every drag. 

“Helen, what have I told you about that? You’re going to hurt yourself, coughing like that.”

“I can’t…seem to…do it!”

“Then don’t, chicken!”

They hear a ruckus coming through the fog, Rosie and his group  breaking out of the mist and greeting the girls. 

“Hiya, boys!” Tattie calls, climbing back into the truck. “Last few donuts are yours if you want ‘em!”

“Thank ya, Miss Tattie,” Rosie politely replies, shaking his head in mock dismay as he spots Nash making a beeline for Helen. “How’s your day been?”

“Oh, easy enough. It’s trying to find a way to keep ourselves occupied while the boys are up that’ll be the trouble. Say, you wouldn’t happen to have any ideas?”

“Nothing that doesn’t involve sitting with a book, I’m afraid.”

“Hm, maybe not. I’d get restless.”

“You, restless? Now I don’t believe that.”

She pauses for a second, taking a sip of her lukewarm coffee. “Girls!” she calls, the three of them breaking away from their conversation with Nash, Pappy and Speas. “What do you say we name this old girl?” She pats the open window of the Clubmobile fondly before continuing. “A few of the other girls out in Europe have named theirs, why don’t we?”

“Oh, yes!” Helen replies excitedly. “But what?”

There’s a pause as they all begin to ponder, each person occasionally offering a “hm,” or a “aha!” Pappy, at one point, scratches his head as if he’s deep in thought. “Why don’t you name it after one of the states you’re all from?”

“Pappy,” Olive says, looking at him side-eyed. “Think about that again.”

“Scratch that,” he laughs. “Well then, I’m stumped!”

“You did have a semblance of a good idea though! We totally could keep it in relation to all of us girls.”

“Do-Nut Enter,” Tattie suggests, cackling at her own joke. 

“All Things Nice?” Helen shrugs. “Because we’ve got sugar on the donuts, Val is the spice–”

“Why, thank you!”

“Olive, any ideas?”

“None!” She walks over to Meatball, tying him to his post. “My brain is fried.”

“That’ll be the lack of sleep, kid. I’ve got my eye on you!” she pokes, winking at her.

“That’s it!” Val calls, seeing Olive begin to pet the dog. “Something to do with Meatball!”

“Uh-huh? What did you have in mind?”

“Meatball, Meatball…” she murmurs, before snapping her fingers. “Got it! Spaghetti ‘n’ Meatball!”

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

Tattie smiles with a soft chuckle, Helen also nodding in agreement. 

“Spaghetti ‘n’ Meatball it is.”

***

Inducting Kenny and Winks to be their painters, their brilliant nose art designs speaking for themselves, the gang all rally around with trays of coffee and a fresh batch of donuts to satiate their hungry helpers. Rosie and Pappy were on ribbon duty, finding something for the girls to cut for the grand reopening of the truck with its brand new name. Speas was in charge of gathering the remaining men for the celebration, rallying them from all corners of the base. Nash was supposed to have joined him, but remains stuck to Helen’s side like he was velcroed to her.

“Nash,” Olive says, teasingly. “I promise she won’t disappear while you help Speas out.”

“Olive, you can’t let a pretty girl like this outta your sight if you can help it!”

“Soppy sod,” she giggles, watching Helen blush. “I’ll need her once Rosie and Cousin Pappy have arrived back, though.”

“Hey, what’s all that about?” Nash asks. “I tried to ask but I couldn’t make head nor tail about what he was yappin’ about.”

“Oh! We share the same surname and the moment Pappy heard it, he declared we obviously had to be related. I’m not protesting,” she laughs, covering her mouth to stifle it slightly. “It’s not like I have a big family myself. It’s nice to add to the fold, actually.”

“What’s that, doll?” Helen asks, her face now a picture of both curiosity and concern. Olive feels herself heat up, almost beginning to boil over as the reality of what she has said begins to set it.

“Nothing, nothing!” she swallows, willing the stressed warmth to leave her cheeks.

“No, tell me what you meant!”

“Later,” she replies, dismissively, racing back around to the front of the truck. Through the haze of panic, she barely notices Lemmons sneak up behind her and snatch a donut from the tray she had been holding.

“Hey!” Sammy yells, telling on him within seconds. “You didn’t ask Miss Olive first!”

“Yeah!” Billy echoes. “Lemmons, you need to ask nicely!”

“Boys!” he laughs. “I don’t need to ask. Miss Olive and I have an agreement.”

“Oh!” They say in realization, before carrying on petting Meatball who is happily lapping up all the extra attention.

“What does that mean?” Val asks, Olive jumping at her presence.

“What does what mean?” she snaps, shaking her head. “What?”

“You and Kenny having a deal.”

“Oh my God, nothing!” she barks, feeling her eyes begin to swim with tears. “Just leave it.”

“Huh…”

As Olive turns her back, Val walks away, shaking her head. Clutching the locket, Olive sniffs as the tears dry in her eyes. “Don’t worry, Papa. They’ll know by tonight. No more secrets.”

Olive is quickly distracted by a chorus of voices calling her name, Helen and Tattie pulling a trail of toilet paper across the Clubmobile to create a makeshift ribbon to cut for the grand reopening. Just as Chick Harding approaches, he speaks up again. 

“Whose twenty two sheet daily ration did ya take?” 

“Yours, sir,” Tattie quips back, joining the rest of the group. “After three! One, two…”

“You little–”

Just as Chick is prepared to tear the paper, Meatball leaps. It’s as if it all happens in slow motion, everyone’s faces a picture of surprise as the dog jumps and grabs the paper with his teeth, pulling it apart before Tattie even manages to get to three. 

“Meatball!” They all moan disdainfully, the dog happily panting at his efforts, looking terribly pleased with himself. 

“Good thing you’re cute,” Olive scolds, kissing him on the head. “Wait til your Dad hears about this!”

***

The Silver Wings Club is the emptiest it’s ever been - usually packed to the brim, the few service members sat deep in quiet conversation as a few members of the band play softly on stage adds an eerie feel to the environment.

Olive was already feeling uneasy, both Val and Helen noticing how subdued she was as they changed uniforms, her shrugging them off and reassuring them she was fine at every turn. She’d seen herself grow ever paler in the mirror, willing herself to put one foot in front of the other as they approached Rosie and his crew in the club. As they all stand to offer their seats, Olive declines and makes a beeline for the bar where she orders a large whiskey. She gulps it down the moment it is placed in front of her, her friends looking on in surprise as she turns back to them.

“Rosie, Pappy…lads. I need to talk to the girls. Alone.”

“Sure thing, Miss Olive.”

Pappy remains still, arms crossed as he smiles jovially between Olive and their friends. “You too, Cousin Pappy.”

“Oh, what? Why?”

“Because it’s private.”

“We’re family!”

“It’s girl stuff!” she blurts, closing her eyes and wincing as she snaps at him.

“Say no more!” he guffaws, the insinuation of that alone enough to have him pick up his drink and follow Rosie.

“What’s up, kid?” Tattie says, side eyeing Olive as she lights a cigarette. “You’ve been off all day. Lay it on us.”

“Well, it’s uh–”

“Is it because Dougie and Ev, and the rest of the fellas are away? I know it’s the first time you’ve dealt with something like this, but–”

“Nope, not that. There’s something–oh, Jesus Christ…” Olive gasps, swallowing the bile that’s beginning to creep up her throat. She shudders, her whole body seeming to convulse. 

“What something?”

“I need to tell you something. About me, about my life. And I’m worried - terrified, in fact - 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. Tattie, you know how I, in your words, appeared suddenly?”

“Yeah? From thin air, it seems.”

“Well, I was on the hardstand that day, because I fell out of a fort.”

“Why were you in a fort, Ol?” Helen places her drink down, her brow softly furrowed. Olive takes a deep breath in, bracing herself to finally tell the truth.

“I was in a fort because that’s how I got here. I’m not from here, from this time.”

“W-what?” Val asks, equally as confused as the rest of the group. “Huh?” Olive sees her chest rise and fall quickly, her breaths becoming uneven and jagged.

“I’m from the future,” Olive replies quietly, her eyes falling on her hands that she’s placed in her lap, wringing them together. “I’m from the year two thousand and twenty one. 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–”

“Who else knows?” Val demands. “Does anyone else know?”

Olive nods without looking up. “Kenny, and now Benny.”

“Before me?!” 

Olive looks up as her friend's voice borders on yelling, and sees her eyes begin to fill with tears. 

“I thought we were friends, Olive.”

“We are!” she yells in response as Val stands, stalking towards the door. “I didn’t know what else to do!”  She begins to follow her, but is quickly pulled back by Helen and Tattie who return her to her chair.

“Let her go,” Tattie says, stubbing her cigarette into the ashtray in front of her. “Give her a moment.”

“But–”

“No buts, girl. Now…you’re not lying to us?”

“I have been, yes. But this…this is me telling the truth. I didn’t expect this. I didn’t expect to land on my ass somewhere so removed from my own life and find this.”

“What is it you’ve found, hm?”

“You guys…a family. I don’t–I don’t really have one aside from my grandmother and this…” she feels hot, fat tears begin to streak down her cheeks as she sobs through her words. “This is such a gift.”

“Look, we can’t say we’re not shocked,” Helen says, taking her hand. “But, I believe you.”

“You do?”

“Mhm. Now I think about it, it all makes sense. Can’t set your hair, can’t seem to get your nails right…”

“Gee, thanks,” Olive snorts, wiping her nose with a handkerchief.

“You know what I mean, girlie,” she comforts, hand now stroking hers. “Aside from all that, you’re one of us now. I feel like you always have been.”

Tattie nods, wordlessly confirming what Helen has said. “You don’t just have your grandmother anymore, Ol. You have me, Helen, the boys, and Val.”

“Not so sure about that last one right now,” Olive weeps, Helen shushing her softly. 

“Yes, you are. She’s upset she wasn’t told, and rightfully so. She has every right to be mad at you right now, doll.”

“Yeah,” Olive says softly, dabbing at her eyes again. “I’m gonna go see to her, but when I come back, I have something to show you.”

“What is it?” Tattie asks, eyes glowing with excitement.

“Proof.”

***

“Can I come in?” Olive asks as she taps on the door to the Red Cross hut.

“Free country,” Val responds, her tone sulky. Olive sees her slumped on her bunk with Meatball as she walks in, deciding against sitting next to her and opting to sit on the bunk opposite.

“I’m sorry,” Olive starts, her voice quiet. “I wanted to tell you, I just–”

“Just what? Decided to tell Kenny and DeMarco before I even got a look in?”

“I didn’t intend to tell them. They caught me.”

“Come again?”

“Kenny caught me one night, and I couldn’t lie to him. Truth be told, I’d had one too many Old Fashioneds and didn’t have my wits about me.”

“And DeMarco?”

“The dog gave me away this morning as I fell out of the plane.” Meatball whines at the mention of his presence, his ears pricking up. “Yes, I’m talking about you, ya damn mutt.”

She hears Val take a deep inhale, the breath leaving her slowly. “So you did wanna tell me?”

“More than anything. I just couldn’t figure out how.”

“Why now?”

“It was all getting too risky. So many things almost gave me away today and I can’t keep lying to everyone. Especially you, Val. You’re my person.”

“Thought that would be Dougie,” she replies snarkily, a smile growing on her lips nevertheless.

“Hm, maybe, romantically. But you? This shit is for keeps.”

“I feel the same.”

“Good.”

A moment of silence passes between them, Val reaching over to take Olive’s hand.

“Sorry I was a big baby,” she sniffs, shaking her head. “I just don’t like being left out.”

“Does anyone?” Olive laughs. “You believe me?”

“Y’know what, I actually do. It all makes sense now.”

“Yes, yes, I know, Helen already ate me up about my hair and my nails, I don’t need it repeated.”

“Ate you up?” Val asks, a snort leaving her as she tries to stifle a giggle.

“Chewed me up and spat me right out.”

“Oh, I love that. I need to use it.”

“Feel free! It’s one of my favorites.”

“Any more secrets you have to tell me? Might as well air it all out now while we’re here.”

“Nothing much else to tell, really. Dead dad, abandoned by my mum, raised by my grandmother.”

“Oh, me too. The–the first one.”

“I’m so sorry, honey. It’s not a nice club to be a member of.”

“Club?” she asks. “There’s a club?”

“Hmm. Dead Dads Club. Nobody chooses to be a member, it’s sort of thrust upon you. I was 13 when I got my badge.”

“I was much younger. Only a small child. It’s just been me, mom and Nonna ever since.”

“I only ever had Pearl after. My mum didn’t take my dad passing well–I mean, of course she didn’t but…anyway, that’s a story for another day.” She pulls her locket out of her collar, showing it to Valencia. “Would you like to see him?”

“I’d be honored.”

She opens the locket as Val perches on the bed next to her, her eyes squinting a little to see the small heart shaped picture inside. “You look just like him. Same eyes…same chin and jaw…wow, that’s your dad.”

“That’s my dad. My Papa,” she breathes, closing the necklace. “He was a sweetheart.”

“You think he’d approve of Dougie?”

“Without a doubt. Both with the same silly sense of humor. I’m beginning to think James has a hotline to heaven, the way he’s coming out with similar jokes.”

“And this?”

“I think he would. I think he’d just be happy to see me happy, y’know. It all scares me silly. He’s gone, and once Pearl goes, I’m all alone.”

“I’ll smack you, English,” Val scolds, wrapping an arm around her. “No, you’re not. We’re your family now.”

“Not just blowing smoke up my arse?”

“Never.”

“Come on,” Olive suggests, pulling Val up off the bed. “We’d better get back. I have something to show you.” She digs around in her bag, pulling out her phone as the door suddenly swings open.

“What on earth is that thing?” Tattie laughs, pointing at the object in Olive’s hand as Helen follows her in. “Sorry, we just wanted to check up on you. The conversation with Rosie and the boys became less and less riveting. Pah, get it. Riveting! Oh, what am I like?”

“Drunk, is what you are, Spaatz,” Helen teases, sitting her on a bunk. “You weren’t complaining when Pappy and Speas were buying you whiskey after whiskey.”

“Exactly! Now, what’s in your hand, English? A futuristic contraption?” She slurs through each word, her speech sounding like she has a mouth full of candy. 

“Here’s the proof I mentioned.” Olive presses the phone’s lock button for it to flash on, the girls all screeching in terror.

“What the fuck?!” Helen screams, a rarity for her to curse. “What is that?”

“A phone. Or a doo-hickey, as Lemmons likes to call it.” 

“But where’s the wire? The numbers? The–huh?!”

“I can’t do much with it here. But, I can play music, and take photos.”

“On a telephone?” Val shouts, grabbing it from her hands. “Let me see!”

Olive swipes the screen with her finger, swapping the camera to selfie mode. “Look, it’s us!”

“B-but…how?”

“Magic,” Olive replies. “I actually don’t know, I don’t ask questions.”

“Take our picture!” Val demands.

“Shit, alright. Calm it down.”

Olive presses the camera button, the shutter sound startling the three girls who obviously don’t expect it. “Yeah, we’ll delete that one. Try again,” Olive laughs, taking in the still of their shocked faces. 

“I need to print all these,” Olive laughs as she scrolls through about fifty images, finding her favorites amongst the shots. “You girls wanna hear some music?”

“Uh, yeah?!” Helen keenly agrees, Olive hitting play on a downloaded playlist and placing the phone into a glass. 

By the end of the night, they all have preferences: Helen has fallen in love with Elvis Presley, Tattie Spaatz has learned to headbang to AC/DC, and Val has become enamored with 80s era Madonna. 

“What do you think Ev will like?”

“We’ll soon find out. I’ll bring some vinyls from Pearl’s, save using the phone. She still has my dad’s and her records somewhere.”

They hear a soft snore emanating from one of the bunks, Tattie knocked out in her uniform. Helen covers her with a blanket with a giggle, holding 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, Val poking Olive softly on the nose.

“Leave it, Yanks!”

“Oooh! Getting bold now?”

“Yep. Now I know we’re stuck together forever, I can now be totally myself.”

“Good,” Val says, planting a kiss on her cheek as she retires to her own bunk. Olive and Helen follow suit, Olive wrapping herself up in Dougie’s jacket and breathing in his scent, wishing more than anything that he was right there beside her. As she snuffles her nose into the collar, she hears the camera shutter click for the final time that night, Val giggling away as she captures Olive curled up.

“Love you,” Olive whispers.

“Love you more.”

Olive lets herself snuggle up and fall fast asleep in minutes. A deep sleep, the sort of sleep she’s sought after for years, the warmth of it sending her into gentle dreams. Those of a future, a comfortable life with a family by her side. A sense of peace and hope washes over her, praying that everything is finally coming up roses.

taglist: @blakelysco-pilot @sagesolsticewrites @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @archival-hogwash @lestweforget5 @ptvstvrrr @claireelizabeth85 @butterfly9012

[spinteresting]

Drenched in You (before I knew your name) on ao3

Soulmates dream scenes from each other's day.

Douglass always thought he would fall in love with his soulmate and marry her, but that is turned upside down when he learns his soulmate is a man.

Then he meets his soulmate, Ev Blakely. They become quick friends, but Doug always finds himself craving more.

A slow-burn soulmate au | Rated: E

[bcolfanfic]

hcs about helen, ev and wyatt as a family pls, both before and after they get together!

wyatt is so little when everything is going on with fuckface that in a lot of ways it goes over his head. it *does* leave some the-body-keeps-the-score mental scars that show up more as he gets older. gets startled by loud voices and slamming even if he’s too little to fully understand why those things feel scary.

but when ev gets helen outta that situation and moves her and wyatt into his house on base wyatt is just tickled that they get to live with blake-y now. doesn’t understand why mama’s buddy that came over and played cars with him just, in his little eyes, vanished for a few months out of nowhere.

goes full stage five clinger to him. cries when ev has to go to work which makes big ol softy ev want to cry too. he ends up convincing wyatt to let him take one of his lovies to work that he sticks in his flight training plane so he can take photos for him like this.

which wyatt lovessss. ev is that little boy’s moon and stars outside of his mama and he thinks he’s just the coolest guy in the world.

which makes helen swoon to bc <3 tall gentle giant man with a big heart being a DadTM to my little boy. what girl wouldn’t fall hard and fast!

but she’s still really nerved out about everything, almost even more so now. scared ev only wants her because he feels bad for her or that she’s too damaged for him. breaks ev’s heart when he eventually gets her to tell him that outright bc. he just thinks she’s the best. so kind, and strong and smart and funny and pretty and the best mom to wyatt. makes him itch that she’s been beating herself up thinking he felt anything other than absolute adoration for her.

ev has a really good relationship with his folks and is practically jumping through the phone talking to his ma about it when the dust seems to finally be settling and things are working out. sends her sooo many photos of wyatt and helen and talks so highly of both of them. which makes his mamas heart feel good to bc she knows her ev and knows how much he wanted this w/ helen and wyatt. called her crying that first night he got them away from fuckface all sniffly telling her he didn’t understand how someone so good like helen could end up getting dealt such shitty cards <\3.

best part of his day is coming home to wyatt waiting for him. lil’ guy is always soooo excited to see him, big squeals the second he steps halfway inside the door clamouring for ev to pick him up which he always does. even more special when wyatt starts calling him daddy (: (ev def cries a little the first time he walks through the door to wyatt’s lil voice yelling about daddy being home)

[trashbag-baby666]

Everyone’s Incomplete. And Who’s the Best at Saving Face?

Summary: Everretts girlfriend truly never wants to give John a break from her disgusting comments.

WC: 1,460

C/W: Mentions of John having an ED, Hurt/comfort.

MOTA Masterlist!

John stared down at the slice of pizza sitting on the plate in front of him. The grease from the pizza staring at him like this was some competition. He kept curling and uncurling his toes in the ill-fitting bowling shoes, his hands resting on his knee caps tapping his fingers against them. He needed some kind of social out but he felt stuck in the dark gray plastic chair at the bowling alley. John knew Gale was just in the bathroom and knew he expected John to eat the piece of pizza. The one that was still challenging him everytime he looked down.

He couldn’t throw it away Curt was just getting them a refill on the pitcher of Dr. Pepper. That and Gale told him to make sure John didn’t throw it away.

Maybe this wouldn’t have been the case if John would’ve been having a good day. But he quite frankly, hadn’t. This morning he threw up the peanut butter and Nutella toast.

So, of course he knew Gale would know he would be going on an empty stomach.

He felt embarrassed like some toddler stuck at the table because he wouldn’t eat vegetables. His partners turn away from catching him if tried to slip it to the dogs.

“Do you ever eat?”

John felt his heart drop to his ass at the sound of the wicked witch herself, Ava.

Everett’s evil girlfriend as they called her…do you ever eat? It rang and bounced around John’s head like a tuning fork. Then he felt the turn of his stomach and the sudden wave of nauseating fear of throwing up hit him. He most certainly would not let Ava get the power of seeing him cry. John pushed his chair, keeping his gaze on the carpeted floors of the swirly colorful bowling alley carpet. He went around the corner and down the hall and pushed the door open. Almost hitting Gale with the door, letting out a sob covering his mouth.

“Hey, hey, John sweety.” Gale basically caught him, “What happened?”

John leaned his head into Gale's neck letting out another wet sob. “It’s okay, baby. I’m right here, it’s okay to let it out.” Gale rubbed his back. John couldn’t hold it in anymore, he had been damn near in tears right before they left the house.

Curt came back holding the two pitchers of soda, his eyebrows furrowed as he didn’t see John where he left him a couple minutes ago. But Ava was standing at the high top table looking at her phone and texting. She let out a loud frustrated sigh as she most obviously was texting Everett.

“Did you see where John went?” Curt set the pitchers on the table.

She rolled her eyes with enough force she turned her head, “I dunno…I just asked him something and he stormed off.”

Curt could tell that his simple question was boring her from the two seconds she had to look away from her phone. “What’d you…no. Fuck you Ava.” Curt turned on his heels and stormed to the bathroom the atomic bomb going off in his brain…what the fuck did she say to him?

Curt opened the bathroom door and saw the two boys standing there. John sniffled into Gales' neck. “What happened?” Curt felt the blazing red, hot anger building up inside him just seeing John that upset.

“I don’t know?”

Then it clicked in Curt’s brain, he turned on his heels storming back down the hall and into the main part looking for Everett. What was he going to do when he found him? He’s not sure…yet…he wanted to punch him.

He saw Everett arguing with Ava by the counter. He’d wait till they were done and he would maybe say something; although, he never did.

“Curtie?” That sweet angel voice sang to him.

“Hey, doll face.” Curt kissed his cheek putting an arm around him, “Do you know what Ava said to John?”

“No, I didn't even see him walk away.” Ken’s lip fell into a pout, “She’s so mean to him.”

“I know, I wanna fuckin’ knock her perfect fuckin’ teeth out.” Curt clenched his jaw, balling up his fist.

“I do too but, sadly, that's an assault charge.”

“Do you think Everett’s dad would agree with me if I punched him?”

“Don’t punch anyone, babes.” Ken took curts free hand and began rubbing his knuckles that always seemed to have some kind of bruise or cut on them.

He knew he was right. Curt you shouldn’t punch anyone…well some…

Everett came storming back, his fists clenched. “Hey, outside.” Curt stood up nodding towards the door, catching Everett’s shoulders.

“What?”

“You heard me?”

Everett felt the steaming panic now coursing through his veins as he followed Curt outside of the bowling alley and around the corner of the parking lot. This was it…he was about to get his ass beat by Curt, prepare for the pain…

“What the fuck did she say to John?” Curt spat out at him.

“I don’t know, she didn't say anything about him to me?” Truthfully, they’d been fighting because she had wanted to go through his phone.

“Why are you with her, Ev? She’s a bitch, I’m sorry but it’s true, I’m not sorry actually. You see the way that she treats him when you drag her along to everything we do! You never say anything either becuase you’re a fuckin’ coward. You’re a Coward, Everett. You know just as well as everyone else that John has his shit going on and he does not need her stupid fuckin’ remarks when he’s basically in his own home. Fuck you, Everett.” Curt shoved him back.

Everett stood there silently for a moment then sunk his hands into his pockets to grab out a cigarette and his lighter.

“Ew, what're you doing?” Ava came around the corner, her keys already pulled out of her bag.

“Where are you going?”

“We’re leaving, come on.”

“Whatever, Ava. I gotta go get my shit and say bye to the guys.” Everett snapped, pointing back towards the door.

“Okay well hurry up.” She rolled her eyes. Everett wanted to punch the brick wall so badly but he knew what that would entail…broken hand and a fucked up football season.

Everett came back in and found his vans in the pile of the guys shoes. He found an open seat away from the others and toed off the bowling shoes.

Then Gale walked up…when you get your shoes on, can we talk?” He couldn’t read Gale's voice, he sounded calm but not necessarily in a positive way.

He followed him over to the doors, far enough out of earshot of the others as Everett started to fear for his life in another way. If you had gotten Gale upset you were in deep shit…and that’s about where he was gonna be.

“Look, Everett I love you, you’re one of the coolest guys I know and you’re one helluva football player. But I also love John, and he’s going through a very difficult time and you know that. I’m not getting into it, but I think for now it would be better if you didn’t come around for awhile. I can’t control who you talk to but I think me and John need a break.”

Gale sighed and squeezed Everett’s shoulder then turned on his heels disappearing back into the bowling alley…well obviously this was Gale's way of telling him to leave.

So he did. Not because he wanted to…not because Ava wanted to. Because he didn’t know what other options he had.

John sat in Gales' car, his head rested back on the headrest, staring out the window. The thousand yard stare Gale hated seeing on him.

“Are you doing okay?” Gale rubbed his thigh.

“I guess.” John sniffed, he didn’t know how to be okay. He felt guilty once again pulling Gale away from something .

“Is there anything I can do? Do you want to take a nap together, when we get home?”

“Please.”

“We can take a nap, I’ll make us dinner and then we can watch whatever you want till we go to bed.”

“Okay.” John smiled a bit through the dried up tears. “Maybe tomorrow I can swap lives with Meatball for a day?”

“Maybe, but I don’t know if you’ll like having to watch Meatball with your body getting all kinds of cuddles.”

“You wouldn’t cuddle me if I was Meatball?”

“Yes I would still cuddle you, John.”

“Good because I would totally cry and no one can turn away from a cute crying dog.”

“God, I love you, John.”

“I love you too.”

-

Thank you for reading!!! Liked and reblogs are highly appreciated!!!

Brought to you by Military La La Land @mangokitkats @ihearteugeneroe

[sweaterkittensahoy]

since apparently blakely is the town whore how about blakely/everyone

[No, I don't know why it took the form of a questionably structured poem either]

Bucky he fucks Cleven he sucks

Curtis he cuddles Brady he snuggles

Ken he makes moan Rosie, he groans Demarco he almost takes home

Douglass he fingers With Hambone he lingers

Winks leaves a hickey With Kidd he gets sticky

He likes to praise Crosby With Bubbles he's rowdy And with Quinn and Bailey he doesn't pull rank

The nurses they sigh Aww, fuck it's this guy The horniest pilot ever to fly

Harding well knows How Douglass does go He does his duty to make sure he blows

Can I borrow your bike Asks Davey to Mike I haven't seen my girl lately

Can't lend it to you He's busy with two But that's just what it's like to be Blakely

[p-and-pen]

Night club bodyguard! Douglass & Restuarant owner's son! Blakely from my friend's Dougley fanfic

Read here>> https://x.com/jorenzz/status/1800543839654154704?s=61&t=nvsj4qB6rovS5xP6u0jjSA

[blakelysco-pilot]

You Go To My Head

Beat Me, Daddy, Eight To The Bar: Part One

Everett Blakely x Valencia DiRosano (OC)

She's an American Red Cross Clubmobile girl, and he's the Flyboy with the Lucky Strike tucked behind his ear. Fate has a funny way of intervening- and Fate's name just happens to be Curt Biddick.

Follow along with the Eight To The Bar Playlist

When Captain Everett Blakely landed Just-A-Snappin on the Thorpe Abbotts airfield, he knew two things. The first, was that it had been a fucking haul from Greenland. All he wanted was a drink, and to collapse into whatever the base was passing off as a bed. The second, was that the pretty brunette with the striking green eyes offering him a choice of coffee or whiskey upon entry to the Interrogation Hut, was someone he wanted to know. 

Valencia DiRosano. Val, for short, was a Red Cross Clubmobile girl who also moonlighted as a secretary for Chick Harding when he needed someone to take notes or type up his reports with a little extra speed. She was kind, but a real New Yorker with the mouth to back it up; so it came as no surprise to him when he found her laughing at the bar with Curt Biddick. Childhood friends, he had come to learn on the morning of their first mission. He had watched, amused, as Biddick jumped into the Clubmobile and attempted to fix his own coffee, but not before Val gave him a hearty shove out the back door and onto solid ground. 

“You’ve been here less than a week, Curt. Do I have to write your Mother already?”

“Aw come on Val!” He was holding a carafe of the coffee in one hand, leaning back inside the Red Cross truck. “We’ve been friends since the sandbox, doll face! Please!”  

“Curt, you step back on this truck and you’ll be in the med bay before you even see the inside of your plane.” She scowled, green eyes narrowed at him as she snatched the carafe from his hand. 

“Killjoy.” He sighed, winking up at her as she handed him a cup of coffee, no doubt, fixed the way he liked it. 

Blakely was shaking his head as he approached the Clubmobile, smiling up at Val as she offered him coffee that he didn’t hesitate to accept. She was always armed with a smile, and some days he felt she saved one especially for him, but he wouldn’t tell anyone that. 

“He’s a pain in my ass.” She had offered by way of greeting that morning. 

“Dickie would probably sympathize with you, ma’am.” He grinned, hazel eyes fixed on her own green. 

“Oh, don’t I know it,” she shook her head. “And you can call me Val, Captain.”

“Then it’s only fair if you drop the formalities as well.” A teasing lilt to his reply. 

She shook her head at him, but leaned forward towards him, her torso now fully outside the open hatch she was serving the Airmen from. 

She’d be lying to herself if said she hadn’t been attracted to him since the minute she saw him. Striking hazel eyes, a finely trimmed mustache over his upper lip, and perfectly styled hair. The latter two seemed to be a requirement for Flyboy’s, she had noted. And he always had a cigarette tucked behind his ear should he need it. 

Pinching a donut between two fingers, she allowed her face to get just a bit closer to his, before she offered it to him with a wink. 

“Safe flight, Captain Blakely.”

“Val.” He grinned, plucking the offered snack from between her red manicured nails, before tipping his crush cap at her and heading towards the truck where his crew was waiting. 

Dougie already liked to give him a hard time whenever he was caught ogling her at the Silver Wings Club from across the room. He no doubt had seen the exchange between the pair, because when Everett slid into the spot next to him on the truck, the bombardier wasted no time in letting him have it. 

“You two set a date yet?”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“I’m your best friend,” Douglass elbowed him. “I’m supposed to be a pain in your ass.”

“Lucky me.” Blakely groaned, taking a sip of his coffee. 

He wouldn’t tell anyone, but it was the best damn cup of coffee he’d had in months and he was sure it had everything to do with the woman who had made it for him. 

When he returned from that first mission, Bremen, she was waiting in the Interrogation Hut just like the day he had first descended on the air field. Armed with coffee and whiskey, she spotted him as soon as he came through the door. He wasn’t sure, but he could swear the smile on her face that she was offering to all the boys stretched just a bit wider when she clocked him. 

“Captain.” 

“Val.” He grinned, fingers sliding around the rim of the whiskey glass she was holding out to him. 

“Nice to see you safely on the ground.” 

“Well, it’s nice to be on the ground again.” 

Douglass was behind him, pushing him along to their designated area so that they could get this part over with as quickly as possible. It was one thing to be up there getting hammered with flak while praying for your life, but to have to relive it so that The Brass could get all the details straight, was the worst possible version of deja vu. 

“Right, I need to uhh…”

“No, of course,” She nodded, picking up one of the coffees and handing it to Buck Cleven who had just walked in with John Egan. The Major looked positively rattled, and when she went to offer him a whiskey instead, Major Egan intercepted it for himself.

“He doesn’t drink.” Blakely whispered to her, answering the silent question on the tip of her tongue. 

Val nodded in understanding before offering both Major’s a smile, watching as they moved further into the room. Then she turned back to Everett, giving him a gentle nudge towards where the rest of his crew was currently sitting. 

“Go on, I’ll see you later. I’ve got to clean up here.” She had smiled at him as she began moving around the room to pick up the empty glasses. 

“Blakely!” It was Colonel Harding, and he was standing in that way he often did, with his hands planted on his hips, and eyes narrowed in his direction. 

Quickly shaking himself from his fog, he moved towards the empty chair next to Douglass, silently begging his friend not to say a word. At least not with the rest of their crew around. 

They had been in Interrogation longer than he wanted to be there; the mission had been scrubbed, and Harding had wanted all the details. The how, why and when. But it was never the who that they focused on for too long. The who being the fellas who had died up there, whose blood was currently being washed out of the inside of the forts that made it back. Whos mothers didn’t know it yet, but were going to receive a letter from Major John Egan expressing his deepest sympathies for the loss of their son. His fort had been lucky, making it back to Thorpe Abbotts in one piece, and while he wanted to take the time to acknowledge that, he knew that his mind wouldn't let him. He would have to acknowledge the lost, and the broken pieces of this first flight before he could move on. 

Leaving the Equipment Hut, he found Curt exiting the base Hospital. The stocky, former Brooklyn boxer looked slightly stunned, and when Everett made eye contact, the pilot gave a nod, before changing course to walk alongside him. 

“You good?” Blakely spoke first, eyes cutting to the hospital they had just left in their rear view. 

“Yea, wanted to check on Dickie.” 

Dickie would have normally been in the co-pilot seat next to Biddick, but with Major Cleven riding with Biddick’s crew on this flight, Dickie had been down in the tail gun. 

“What happened up there?”

“Frostbite,” Curt sighed. “Grabbed the tail gun without gloves on.”

“Jesus, he alright?”

“Smokey said it ain’t too bad, but could be a few weeks before he’s back in the seat.”

“Well, better frostbitten than dead I suppose.”

“Yea…” Curt trailed off. “How ‘bout you boys? Yous all make it back in one piece?”

“For the most part, physically at least.”

“Yea, I hear that.”

They walked silently towards the Officers Hut, the only thing on Blakely’s mind at the moment; a hot shower and change of clothes. He supposed that most of the fellas would make their way to the Silver Wings Club later in the evening, so long as the red light stayed the hell off and let them be. He hoped he wouldn't have to see it blinking again this week, but this was war, and it just didn’t sound promising. 

Just as he was about to pull the door open to their nissen hut, Curt stopped him, hand pushing the door closed and forcing them both to stop walking. 

“French 75.”

“You asking me to buy you a drink, Curt?” He raised an eyebrow at the shorter man. 

“Val’s drink is a French 75.” 

“I’m almost afraid to ask…”

“I ain’t blind.” Curt shook his head. 

“I thought maybe Dougie tipped you off.”

“Oh, he did,” Curt winked, and Blakely couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh. “But I also seen yous two by the Clubmobile this morning, and she almost sent poor Tattie flyin to give you a drink back there.”

“How come you uh…how come you and her never got together?”

“Nah, I love her to pieces but not like that.” 

 He nodded, understanding exactly what Curt meant when he said that. 

“Okay then…”

“B’sides, you heard her. I’m a pain in her ass.”  Curt grinned wildly, and Blakely could see that he was proud to be Val’s very own pain in the ass. It was the same type of smile that Douglass gave him when he bestowed him with the very same compliment. 

“Yea, she did mention that.” He shook his head. 

“C’mon, let's go, I stink of fuel.” 

By the time the band was playing, the Silver Wings Officers Club was filled with Airmen, and a mix of Red Cross and local women who had been invited by some of the pilots and crew. It was a hearty blend of people, and it wasn’t long before the dance floor was filled with couples. 

Val was sitting with Helen and Tattie, the trio partaking in their favorite activity when they weren’t working: people watching. Discreetly, from behind their martini glasses, they would observe the goings on of the club, and who was doing what. It was also a subtle way for them to learn a little more about the men so that they could chat to them as they left for a mission. 

“Wait, but she was seeing Egan last week!” Tattie spoke in a hushed voice. Even with the band playing, she didn’t want anyone hearing her. They were currently fixed on a local East Anglia girl who had been seen around the club before, most recently with Major Egan, but none of the women could remember her name. 

“I guess she’s seeing Dye now.” Val sniggered from behind her drink. 

“I heard he had the clap.” Helen chimed in. 

“Egan!?” Val’s eyes went wide. 

“No, Dye.”

“No! From who!” 

“I don’t know who gave it to him!” Helen rolled her eyes. 

“Not who gave it to him,” Tattie sighed. “Who did you hear it from?”

“Funny enough, John Egan.”

“I wonder how true it is, then,” Val shook her head, taking a sip of her drink. “He’s probably just sore over losing her to Dye.” 

“Well, Flyboy’s are like that.” 

“Not all Flyboy’s are filthy, Tattie.” Helen groaned. 

“No, you’re right,” Tattie grinned. “Val’s seems like a gentleman.”

Helen and Tattie were both bearing bright grins in her direction, and all she could do was roll her eyes as she drained the last of her drink. 

“You two are incorrigible.”

“So you weren’t flirting with Captain Blakely this morning? Helen leaned across the table at her.

“I was doing my job.”

“And this afternoon, in Interrogation, was your job to almost mow me down to get to him? Tattie raised an eyebrow at her. 

“You were in my way, Tat…”

“Well then,” She grinned. “If he’s not your Flyboy, then I don’t know why he’s making his way over here with a drink in each hand.”

When she looked over to where Tattie’s gaze was focused, sure enough, there was Captain Everett Blakely, striding across the room towards their table, with a martini glass in one hand, and his whiskey in the other. She couldn’t very well hide the smile on her face as he approached, and knew that when she finally retreated to the women’s hut later that night, both Helen and Tattie would be there to pull every detail from her before they fell into their own beds. 

“Ladies,” Blakely grinned, gaze landing on both of Val’s companions, before finally settling on her. “Val.” 

“Captain Blakely.” She grinned, their game of formalities causing him to roll his eyes with a smile. 

“Are we still doing that?” He asked. “This is hardly a formal setting.”

“Everett…” She allowed his first name to slip past her lips just the once, and watched as his eyes lit up at hearing her say it. “Are you drinking for two tonight?”

“Do you think so little of me that I would?”

“Oh, so that one’s for Douglass?” She teased. 

“Actually, it’s for you. French 75, right?” He offered her the martini glass in his left hand, their fingers brushing as she accepted it from him. Just like they had that afternoon as she handed him his whiskey. She couldn’t help it. She could feel her cheeks warming up at the simple gesture and hoped that her rouge would hide it. She wasn’t sure she’d be that lucky, however, as his warm gaze was trained entirely on her. 

“And who told you that?” 

“Let’s just call them a reliable source.” He nodded, lifting his own glass to his lips, though she didn’t miss his grin. 

She’d barely noticed Tattie and Helen slipping away from the table, the former immediately snatched up by James Douglass for a dance, while Helen; well, she wasn’t sure where she disappeared off to. Had her friends given her up that easily to him? Surely it hadn’t been Curt; he was everything a protective big brother should be, minus the bloodline. She couldn’t imagine her childhood friend willingly offering up any sort of information to a potential suitor. She knew better than anyone what he was like back home any time they had doubled with his flavor of the month and someone she met that wasn’t entirely turned off by her friendship with another man. 

She’d resolve to find out who the reliable source was, but for now, she was intent on enjoying the company of the man who still stood in front of her. 

“Would you like to join me?” She looked up at him through her lashes, red lips stretched wide with a smile just for him. 

“I’d love to,” he returned the smile, and with a grace she hadn’t known a man to possess, ever, slid into the seat to her left. “Besides, what kind of person would I be if I left you here alone?”

“Not a very good one, I suppose.” 

“Exactly, and my mother raised a gentleman.”

“Well, I’ll have to thank her then,” Val teased from behind her glass. “There are so few of you left.”

“I’ll consider myself lucky then, to be a gentleman worthy of your time.”

“You’re a flirt, Captain Blakely.”

“Are we back to the formalities?” He sighed, arms outstretched on the table in front of him, body slightly slouched in his seat. 

“I’m only joking,” her hand fell to his arm, and she couldn’t help but admire the ropes of muscle she felt beneath the fabric of his uniform jacket. “But you are a flirt.”

“Do you see me flirting with anyone else here?” 

That had her caught in his gaze, so much so that she barely noticed Curt striding into the room, and Helen intercepting him at the bar. She was sure that had he noticed her, he’d have skidded over to her and Blakely in such a state, demanding a dance with his best friend, that it would leave the Captain stunned and so put off, he’d never speak to her again. 

“Val?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes,” shaking her head to dismiss the thoughts, she focused back on Everett, and how her hand was still resting on his forearm. “I promise it’s not you.”

His gaze softened, his head immediately turning from her to survey the room, trying to pinpoint exactly what, or who, had caused her the momentary distress. 

“There’s someone in here you're trying to avoid.” He didn’t question it, so much as come out with it directly. 

“Not avoid, per say…” she sighed. “But, I’m enjoying your company, and Curt just walked in and he has a habit of, well…”

“Being Curt?” He supplied a helpful smile. 

“Driving away any man I’m interested in.” She had said the last part so quietly, head ducked down, that he strained to hear it. 

“What was that?” His thumb and index finger gently cradled her chin, lifting her face back up towards him. His eyes were boring into her, hazel locked on green, and she couldn’t pull herself away even if she wanted to. 

“I’m sure you’ve heard by now that Curt and I grew up together.”

“Yea, I heard it mentioned once or twice.”

“Our mom’s got close when we were kids; we lived in the same building growing up, and they’d usually toss us in the sandbox or let us run around the garden while they gossiped. So, Curt and I became like siblings.”

“Go on…”

“And like all good siblings, and in true big brother fashion, he likes to embarrass me in front of anyone I’m with.”

“Well, I’m not deterred by Curt Biddick.” He grinned, giving her jaw a gentle pinch with his two fingers before pulling back.

“It’s why I stick to the formalities with you…”

“Well, if it’s not too bold of an ask; unless you really need to, I’d prefer you call me Everett. Or Ev. Whichever suits you.”

“Okay…” 

“Now, can I be bold once more?” He was trying to get her to crack another dazzling smile, and he’d be damned if the night ended before he succeeded. 

“You’re pushing your luck, Everett.” 

“There she is,” he grinned. “Could I have this dance?”

“I’d love nothing more.” She smiled, watching as he stood before gently taking her hands to guide her from her chair. 

Drinks forgotten for the time being, Valencia allowed Captain Everett Blakely to lead her out onto the crowded dance floor. When he found a suitable spot, he gently twirled her before pulling her body close to his. His hands were warm, but not overly so, and she found that as one rested gently on the small of her back and the other held hers, that it was a comforting feeling she had been missing for quite some time. Not even dancing with Curt made her feel so at ease, and that normally would have worried her. Something about Everett Blakely and his warm hazel eyes pulled her in, and made her want to stay in his embrace for as long as possible. As he swayed them gently, his warm breath fanning across her cheek caused her to look up, her head lifting from where she was resting it on his shoulder, her gaze meeting his.

“Hell of a song.” He spoke softly, words just for them to hear. 

She hadn’t noticed what the band was playing until he said it, the tune of You Go To My Head filling the club. 

“Appropriate, don’t you think?” 

“Absolutely,” his hand resting on her back pulled her just that much closer, the pins on his uniform catching on the button of her Red Cross jacket, but neither seemed to mind. “I haven’t been able to get you out of my head since I landed last week.”

“Is that so?” Her hand that had been resting gently on his shoulder had somehow wrapped around him, her fingers finding a home in the soft hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Think you might like to stay there a while longer?” 

“Just a while?”

“As long as you like, sweetheart. I want to know everything about you.” 

“Well, I’d say you’re off to a good start.” She whispered, her head moving back to his shoulder as the band moved into another song. Neither making any effort to part. 

Neither of them saw it, but Curt was watching from the bar with a proud grin on his face. 

Part Two

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!

Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @rosiesriveter @bobparkhurst @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @precious-little-scoundrel

[bamfharlancyrus]

Dangerous Desires

Harlan’s bored and slightly annoyed. He’s annoyed with himself because he can’t stop thinking about Cyrus. He’s annoyed with Cyrus because fuck, he’s never worked this hard for a man before. They've been doing this whole flirting thing for a while now but they haven’t made it official, they still haven’t gone on that date. So when Cody invites him to a party along with Luna, Blake and Everett, he jumps at the opportunity to distract himself.

As soon as they step through the gate to the backyard of whosoever house they were at, Luna heads towards Austin, and Blake and Everett head towards the bar that has been set up. Harlan scans the party to look for a familiar face.

He’s surprised to see Cyrus already there, lounging on a couch with an attractive guy sitting in front of him. Harlan watches them for a few minutes, noting the way the guy flirts with him and how he keeps leaning in to touch his thigh as he laughs.

He clenches his jaw and tries to keep his distance because he never was the clingy type and he’s not about to start now. He’s never the chaser. He’s always the one that is pursued and he likes it that way. He’s the predator, he knows that, but he loves the thrill of feeling like the prey. He especially loves it when Cyrus looks at him with those hungry eyes, except… except this time he’s got those hungry eyes locked on someone else. No, he’s not having it. Those eyes should be on him. Cyrus’ attention should be on him . He should be focused on trying to get Harlan, not whoever that nameless man is.

Read the rest on AO3

[itstheheebiejeebies]

Last Line tag game, I was tagged by @saturnwisteria <3

My Tatty/Helen/Douglass/Blakely fic is coming along a bit

Tatty mentally tallied the crews as they came in for interrogation, it wasn't something she did consciously but she did it nonetheless. Coffee and whiskey, coffee and whiskey to each man in each crew. It was always a small pang when it wasn't a group of ten walking in together. It was even worse when she noticed an absence of ten familiar faces.

There were too many absences with this mission. She still hadn't seen Cleven’s crew, nor a few others. But what worried her most was that she hadn't seen Everett's crew at all. Not Everett, not James, not Harry, or even Charlie Via. They were flying with Kidd too. Would the base be down their Air Exec too?

Her chest felt tighter than she expected, she liked Ev and James sure, but she hadn’t realized it was enough to feel like this from not seeing them walk in.

The last of the crews had made their way in and there was still no sign of her and Helen’s boys. She could see Bubbles outside talking to Crank, he was probably trying to get the same information she craved. She knew she wouldn’t be missed if she slipped out for just a moment, she got there just in time to hear “who’s gonna tell Egan?” and watch Cruikshank walk away.

She caught Bubble’ eyes and he shook his head. It was so simple and so heartbreaking all at once. They were gone. Their boys were gone.

How was she going to tell Helen?

Tag you're it @ktredshoes @oatflatwhite @ww2yaoi @deanology101 @impalachick

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 4

part one part two part three

masterlist

mood board by @hephaestn

taglist: @ginabaker1666 @sagesolsticewrites @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @bloodynereid

Her head leaning on her hand, her elbow on the table, Olive feels Valencia glance across at her. She has seen her eyes softening as James talks, unaware that her mouth is slightly agape. A sharp kick under the table snaps Olive out of her trance, Val shaking her head and smiling, those gorgeous red lips parting and showing her perfect teeth as she makes eye contact. “Breathe, Ollie,” she teases, as the boys engage in a conversation about something or another. 

“Sorry,” Olive mumbles, awkwardly sipping her drink. “I'm not usually like this.”

“Maybe it's the booze?”

“Oh, probably. Yep, that's it. Not the most handsome man I've ever seen taking interest in me. Not that at all.”

“The most handsome, huh? Jesus, don't let him hear you say that.”

“Why not?” Olive giggles.

“He'll never fit his head through that door ever again. Not to mention us never hearing the end of it.”

“You girls wanna take a couple laps in the Jeep? Watch the sunrise?” Dougie asks, looking pointedly at Olive. 

“We're all far too drunk to drive, Doug, and I ain't walking all that way,” he pauses for a moment, feeling Val's eyes focus on him. “Only walking my girl home.” The classic furrow softens immediately. 

“That's what I thought, Everett. Good answer.” 

“What do you say, Olive? Wanna take a walk with me?”

“Sure,” she replies, nervously. She glances over at Val, who nods towards her as Ev helps her with her jacket. 

“Olive, see you tomorrow. Can you get here in time?”

“Oh, I'm sure I can,” a panic rising in her chest, hoping that somehow she was able to get back. Whether any time had passed between the two worlds, she had no idea and was terribly nervous to find out. Alas, she had to get home and check on Pearl, relieving Joan of her duties. But a few more moments with Dougie seemed so incredibly tempting that she felt herself taking his open hand and rushing out the door with him into the cold, morning air. 

“You don’t have a jacket?” He asks as he sees her shiver the second the warm club is behind them.

“Didn't plan on staying this long, actually.” 

He laughs a little, pulling off his own jacket. “Here,” he says, wrapping it around her shoulders. He pulls the sleeve up as she puts her arm in, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanna hold your hand.” 

His hand slips into hers and they begin to head towards the hardstand. Olive, pontificating how to make a quick exit without seeming rude, is distracted from her thoughts by an orange ember coming towards her face. Holding a lit cigarette in front of her, she knows he expects her to take it in between her own fingers. Instead, she drags on it from where he holds it, not once breaking eye contact and his mouth drops open.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat, moving the cigarette back to his own mouth as soon as she has blown smoke from her lips. “Where did you grow up?”

“Here,” she smiles. “I just moved back from London.”

“London? Wow, why?”

“Oh, errm,” she stutters, trying to formulate a story that has little substance but is not a lie. “I, uh…lots of things. I had a few things not work out. My grandma took a fall just over a year ago and she needs a carer. I decided to come home and take over.”

“That's real nice of you, Ol. I'm sure she's grateful.”

“I'm sure, too. She'll never say it, she's a grumpy old girl. But, I love her. She's my pal. Taught me how to be tough and I'm thankful for that.”

“Tough, huh?”

“Mhm,” she nods, realizing they are almost at the aircraft she fell from this afternoon. “What about you?”

“Lansing, Michigan. You probably haven't–”

“Never heard of it,” they overlap, Olive giggling and instantly going to cover her mouth with her free hand. 

“Hey, no. You gotta stop that.”

“Why, Dougie?”

“Because you have a pretty smile. And you shouldn't hide it, especially when it's me making you do the smiling, huh?”

A moment of silence passes between them as they reach the wing of Just A-Snappin, coming to a stop. His hand on her cheek, hers on his back. “Tell me more about Michigan,” she murmurs, their noses almost touching.

“It's real pretty,” he replies, his hand going from her cheek to her hair to move a strand that's blown in her face. “Real pretty in the fall especially.” He sighs, his thumb gently stroking her mouth. “I'll take you one day.”

“I'd love that,” she replies, moving closer. Just as their lips are about to meet, a loud, shrill horn noise is heard over the tannoy, followed by a thick accent. 

“James Douglass,” it commands. “Put that girl down and get to bed!” 

“Dammit, Red,” he mumbles, turning away for a second and squinting up at the tower. “I swear he has eyes in his ass, that guy.”

“Is this goodnight?” she asks, handing the jacket back.

“It is. I'm sorry. I wanted to walk ya home but–”

“Look,” she says, kissing him gently on the cheek. “The sun is rising.”

For a moment, he holds her close to him before breaking away, kissing her softly on the cheek, too. 

“Goodnight, Olive,” he says, beginning to walk backwards towards his destination.

“Goodnight, Dougie.” 

The second his back is turned, Olive begins to run in a full sprint towards the Red Cross Hut to retrieve her clothes. To her relief, Helen is snoring softly in the soft light of the sunrise, Val nowhere to be found. Assuming she's still with Ev somewhere around, she delicately places the dress upon her bunk, pushing out any wrinkles and creases with her hands. Pulling her shirt, overalls and boots back on, stuffing the headscarf in her top pocket, she makes a hasty exit, extremely careful to not disturb Helen. She sighs softly and turns over, causing Olive to freeze as she tiptoes towards the door. Luckily, she remains asleep, the rapid movement not waking her once. 

Returning to the plane and making sure there are no eyes on her, Olive runs around to the hatch she stumbled out of earlier. Seeing it left open, she hesitates, trying to reason with herself to stay. Thoughts of how devastated Pearl would be creep into her mind, cementing the decision. With a sigh, she climbs in, somehow finding long forgotten core strength. She reaches down and shuts the door with a slam, waiting a few moments. Closing her eyes, she waits, the blazing afternoon sun coming through the windows causing her body to overheat instantly.

Sadness crawling all over her, she kicks the hatch open again, her body suddenly heavy. Jumping out much more gracefully this time, she lands heavily in her boots, the scene around her seemingly unchanged. The group of girls she had originally been with were back in their usual spot, Olive now traipsing over to them casually, trying not to be seen. Heather greets her with a smile, her absence apparently unnoticed. 

“Taking a look at the plane?” She asks before the final crowd of school kids of the day make their way around the circuit. 

“Something like that,” she titters, grabbing a rake. “What time is it?”

Heather raises an eyebrow as she looks at her watch, trying to gauge the time as the warm sun reflects the watch face. “Errrm, it's two pm.”

“Oh!” Olive says, surprised. Seemingly no time had passed at all. 

—

“Hiya, Pearly Girly,” she greets, walking into the house. Kicking her boots off by the door, Olive begins to walk into the kitchen, reaching into the beige fridge to quickly gulp milk straight from the glass bottle that was delivered this morning.

“Hey, you,” Pearl greets, hobbling in with her stick. “Get a glass, for goodness sake!”

“I only wanted a gulp,” Olive laughs, now seeing that she'd somehow chugged half the bottle. 

“Some things never change, do they? You've been doing that since you were wee.”

“Old habits die hard, Grandma. Where's Joan? Am I late?”

“No, doll,” Pearl says, shaking her head. “She's out in the garden. Funeral director called.”

“Ah, shit,” Olive replies, peeking out of the window that's shrouded by a worn net curtain. She sees Joan pacing up and down the garden path, arms crossed and face growing more furrowed each second. “I'll make her a cuppa. You want one too?”

“If there's any bloody milk left,” she teases, leaving the kitchen. Olive titters and shakes her head as her back turns, clicking the kettle on. 

—

Pearl and Olive sit opposite one another, sipping from their mugs despite the boiling hot weather outside. 

“So, good first day? How did you like it?”

“Oh, I loved it,” Olive replies, a huge smile on her face. “I met some really nice people. Red Cross girls, took me under their wing and–” Olive pauses, realizing what she has said, seeing Pearl’s confused face. It settles in an instant, the ringing in Olive's ears subsiding as she sees her face return to normal.

“I used to love their jumpsuits. The headscarves they'd wear through the day while their hair was setting for a night at the club. I was always envious. There I was, sweating, beetroot red with a rake and overalls, while they were there looking all glamorous, handing out coffee and donuts to these handsome men. I would've traded places in an instant.”

Olive giggles. “I don't blame you, Pearly. I bet they were all beautiful.”

“They were,” she says, wistfully. “There was one man that caught my eye right before we moved. I never got his name, nor did we ever speak but you bet your bottom I was sat watching his every move whenever I could. He always had this dog with him–”

Olive, taking a sip of tea, inhales at the wrong moment and chokes as she hears Pearl’s words. “Jesus, Olive,” she laughs, trying her best to throw a napkin her way. “Wrong pipe?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replies, coughing a few more times. “Something like that.” It couldn't be the same dog, the same man. Surely not? Shaking her head through the shock, Olive trying to make sense of everything that's happened in the past few hours, Joan enters the room looking a little less stressed than the last times Olive has seen her. 

“Hi, Olive,” she smiles. 

“Joan,” she greets. “How are you?”

“Oh, better now I've got that sorted. Funeral home wanted to go through the order of service, and wanted to know how long my grandson's speech was going to be. You know our Kyle can talk.” Joan looks at Olive, her lips pursed slightly. “You remember Kyle, Olive?”

“Oh, er, yeah. I sure do.” How could she forget? Seeing him on the train while on her way home had brought up so much disdain that she'd felt nauseous for hours afterwards. Kyle, the first and only guy she'd let break her heart, and she'd let him do it because he somehow broke through all the toughness Pearl had taught her - and used it to his advantage.

“I do wish you two had worked out–”

“I wish he'd have been able to control himself and not sleep with my best friend.” 

“Olive!” Pearl scolds. Standing up, Olive announces her leave.

“I need to shower. Nice to see you, as always, Joan. See you tomorrow.”

—

Olive sits on her bed, wrapped in a towel and tries to breathe slowly. Laying down on the bed, her wet hair soaking into the pillow case, she closes her eyes and begins to try and ‘center herself,’ an exercise she'd been taught in Movement Class at drama school. Feeling her lungs inflate and holding her breath for just a moment, Olive hears a small knock on her door. 

“Ollie Pop?” Pearl calls, her voice etched with concern. “You alright?”

Breathing out slowly, Olive sits up. “Come in, Grandma.” As she does so, she puffs heavily and sits on the bed beside her. 

“I like our Joan, but her grandson is a twat.”

“Granny!” Olive shrieks. 

“What? You know if I curse, it's serious. He is. A stupid one at that.”

“Yeah,” she replies, sighing. “Besides,” she pauses, the panic attack pushed aside. “I'm a tough girl. Just like my Grandma.”

—

Laying in the softly lit room as the sun rises, Olive tries her best to read by the glowing lamplight emanating from her bedside table. The words scattering on the page, blurring into one another, she snaps it shut and sits up quickly as her alarm clock beeps, not wasting a single moment. Despite a night of minimal sleep, Olive gets ready in a flash, trying her best to remain as quiet as possible to not disturb Pearl who she can hear snoring from her room. Opening the door with a small creak, Olive smiles sweetly as her beloved Grandma sleeps peacefully, pictures of her husband on display on the table directly next to the bed. Closing the door quietly, Olive goes to the kitchen and boils the kettle for her morning green tea, waiting for Joan to come take over. Despite Olive figuring out that only a little time passes between worlds, she does not want to risk Pearl ever being left alone. Sipping at the hot liquid, she watches the sunrise through the garden window. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, her mind goes back to the previous sunrise she saw, under the wing of a plane with Dougie. 

Finishing her tea, Olive quickly runs back to her room to collect her dog-eared copies of A Midsummer Night's Dream and The Tempest, hoping to find time for some light reading throughout the day. Joan arrives soon after, instantly apologizing for yesterday as she walks through the door, eyes wide with anxiety. 

“Joan,” Olive says, waving her apology away. “Not you that should be apologizing really. You're fine. It's fine and we're fine.”

“Phew, good. Our Pearl awake yet?” Olive shakes her head.

“Not yet. She seemed to fall asleep pretty quickly last night, too.”

“She's a lot more relaxed now you're here, Ol. She knows you're safe and I think that pleases her.”

“I'm glad to be here,” she pauses, smiling awkwardly. “Right, off to work!” 

“Do you need something for lunch?”

“No, thanks,” she smiles, quickly adjusting her headscarf. “I'll grab a donut.”

—

Practically skipping to the airplane, she takes a quick look around to make sure nobody has eyes on her. Only a few early morning museum visitors are around, going into the building itself, trying to keep out of the cool morning air. Satisfied that nobody can see her, she clambers into the plane, body flopping into the aircraft like a hard loaf of bread. 

“I gotta get better at this,” she murmurs to herself, wincing as her core tightens. Leaning down, she slams the door shut and waits. A dog barks in the distance, her eyes clamped shut in fervent hope. She opens her eyes and gently fiddles with the door, her head sticking out slightly. Waiting on the ground is Meatball, tail wagging the second he sees Olive. 

“Hi, buddy,” Olive squeaks when she lands on the floor, a lot more graceful than yesterday's breathtaking bump. “Good morning!” Taking him by the leash, she retrieves her bag and begins to walk to the Clubmobile. 

“Hey!” She hears as her back is turned. “Who said you could take my dog?” There's Benny, a playful smile on his face that Olive instantly reciprocates.

“He did, actually. Waiting right there to greet me.” 

He laughs, leaning down to stroke the dog. “He just was excited to see his new best friend.”

“And so was I,” she replies, handing the leash to him. “I'd better run. Can't be late for my first day!”

—

“Aaah! You're here!” Val squeals, squeezing Olive into a quick embrace. “Come on,” she says, taking her by the hand and leading her to the hut. “Tat got a uniform for you, Lord knows where from but I gave her my measurements and what do you know, there was one spare, exactly your–our size.” 

Hanging on the small locker next to a bunk, is a blue jumpsuit, emblazoned with the American Red Cross logo on one pocket.

“Here's your space,” Val says, gesturing towards the locker. “We have our own showers so we keep most of our stuff in there, toiletries, make up, what have you. We usually use this for trinkets, but decorate how you see fit, doll.” 

Placing her satchel on the bed, Olive removes her clothes and slips into the jumpsuit, it fitting her like a glove. She stuffs The Tempest into one of the huge pockets while Val takes in her new look.

“Oh!” Val gasps, hands on her cheeks. “Don't you look adorable! Wait til Dougie sees you!” Rolling her eyes, Olive looks in the mirror one final time before heading to the door of the hut, Val close behind.

“Helen is already there,” she says, linking her arm with Olive's. “We'd better get there before she's rushed off her feet! Most of the boys are on the ground today, but they'll still be wanting coffee and donuts from us.”

“Makes sense,” Olive responds, waving to Tattie as she zooms past in her Jeep. She waves back, a smile on her face, the wind of the cool morning blowing through her perfectly styled hair.

“Tattie gets a Jeep?” Olive enquires, hoping there's no tone of malice within her question.

“Oh, yeah,” Val says, nodding. “She's the head honcho. She's General Spaatz's daughter, after all.”

“I dunno who that is, Val. Enlighten me.”

“In simple terms? Commander of the Eighth. That's all I know, to be honest. Don't make me go further than that, because I simply couldn't tell you.” She grins, flashing those beautiful teeth. “I'm so glad you came.”

“Me, too.”

—

“Olive! You're here!” Helen shouts through the hatch of the Clubmobile. Climbing down the stairs, she greets her new friend with a hug. Not used to this much affection all at once, Olive basks in it, feeling her face glow.

“Morning, Helen. Thanks for fixing up the bed.”

“You're so welcome, Ol. Nobody will be itching in our house! Not on my watch.”

“You'd think that should be the nurse's job, but here we are.” Val says, her tone scathing as she leans on the counter, flicking through a new copy of Screen Romances, Laraine Day and Robert Young upon the cover, cheeks pressed together. 

“Oh, I love Screen Romances,” Olive pipes up as Val reads through, that famous furrow brought out in concentration. “The gossip columns are savage.” 

“Oh, they so are,” Val responds, looking up, her eyes rolling slightly. “I live for it. I love the cattiness, the scathing remarks. Ugh, wonderful. I'll let you know if anything juicy comes up,” she says, nodding towards the hatch. “Someone's here to see you.”

“Donut from the prettiest girl in East Anglia, please.”

“Hey, Dougie,” she blushes, leaning out of the truck slightly.

“Look at you,” he says, biting his lip a little. “Blue really is your color.” 

“Oh, stop,” she replies, cheeks glowing even redder. “You're just angling for an extra donut.”

“Maybe,” he says, leaning up to meet her in the hatch. “And a kiss.” 

“Well, handsome, I can only give you one of those things right now,” she says, a donut in hand. “Meatball hair free, too. Must be your lucky day.”

“It sure is. Can I get a coffee too? Just cream.”

“Coming right up. No sugar?”

“Not when you're around. I'm sweet enough on you.”

“Are you trying to make me keel over?” She scolds, pouring the coffee into the cup. Brow furrowed, she hands him the cup, followed by a quick smile.

“Jeez, too much time with Valencia already. You've got that furrow perfected.”

“Maybe it was always within her, James,” she shouts, head still buried in the magazine. “Little help from me, and you being insufferable brings the best furrows out in people.” Olive shakes her head, giggling at the banter between the two. 

“Will you be at the club later?” Dougie asks, sipping the coffee. 

“I assume so,” Olive shrugs. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” he teases, winking as he walks away. 

“She's right,” Olive shouts from the Clubmobile. “You are insufferable.”

—

Both Dougie and Benny turn the second Olive enters the club, linked arm in arm with Val and Helen who stand either side of her. She meets the eyes of either man in turn, feeling her cheeks glow with that familiar heat the second she makes eye contact with Dougie. 

“I saw that,” Helen teases as they sit down, the same table as the previous evening. “You smiled when you saw Benny…”

“Helen–” Olive cuts her off, her cheeks now red with embarrassment instead of the previous limerence.

“But I saw that twinkle in your eye when Dougie looked at you.” 

Val nods enthusiastically, lighting a cigarette before offering one to her companions. Her attention on them is taken away the moment Everett walks up to the table, her eyes glowing as he greets her with a kiss on the cheek. 

Olive feels a presence behind her, before a glass - an Old Fashioned - is put at her place on the table. She turns to see Dougie, standing behind her chair with a whiskey in his hand. 

“Thanks,” she says, demurely, hoping that the blushing is now at bay.

“You owe me a dance later,” he says, winking as he walks back to the bar before she can even muster an answer. 

“Does he always do that?” she asks, turning to Val and Ev. “Ask a question then piss off to the other end of the room?” The couple and Helen burst out laughing at her tone, still not quite used to Olive's dry British humor. Not able to contain her own laughter due to theirs, she tries to pull herself together to reiterate the question. Ev is the first to compose himself, Val dabbing at his eyes with her handkerchief as he gasps for air a final time. 

“Nah, not always,” he finally says, looking for his friend at the bar. “He's just nervous, I think.” 

—

Feeling a wet nose at her bare ankle, Olive squeals and finds Meatball under the table. 

“Aaah, hi buddy!” she says, placing her drink on the table and beginning to pet him. “Were you good today? We missed you!”

“Speak for yourself,” Val mumbles under her breath as she reapplies her lipstick , only loud enough for Olive to hear,  causing her to shoot her a glance and giggle. Making sure Benny didn't hear, she smiles up at him. 

“Hi, Benny. How was your day?”

“Better now for seeing you. Let me get this fella squared away. D'you wanna dance?”

“Love to,” she grins, placing her jacket on her chair. Val winks at her as she exits, clutching Benny's arm as he gives the dog to Buck and a few men around him before leading her to the dancefloor.

“I'm warning you, Benny,” she begins as they begin to sway together. “I'm not much of a dancer. I hope you enjoyed having toes.”

“I'm just as bad, don't worry. Just wanted a moment alone with you.”

“That's sweet,” she replies, smiling as she places a hand on his shoulder. 

“So, how was your first day?”

“Oh, it was wonderful, thanks.” And she means it. It's the most fulfilled she's felt in years, these new people welcoming her and taking her under their wing. Everything that went wrong in London feels like a million light-years away; and being here, maybe it is. Benny narrows his eyes at her answer, trying to gauge any hint of sarcasm he may have missed. She shoves him playfully as they dance, giggling a little. “I'm being serious, Benny. It's exactly what I need.”

“If you say so,” he replies, smiling as he spins her away from him. With that spin, she crashes into none other than James Douglass, who automatically takes her in his arms. 

“Dog needs taking out, Benny,” he teases, gripping Olive's hand. He quickly spins her to a new spot on the dancefloor and grins. “Told ya, you owed me a dance.”

“I didn't hear you asking, James,” she teases, feeling her cheeks flush as his hand lands on the small of her back. “It was more of a statement.”

“Right, right,” he says, breaking away. “Will you dance with me?” 

“Yes, I will. But you'd better apologize to Demarco when he gets back.”

“Oh, I'm not sorry for anything, doll.” She tuts at him, letting him lead her nonetheless. Him touching her feels like lighting coursing through her veins, feeling her hair stand up on end. He moves closer as the band slows, their noses almost beginning to touch as they move in unison to the swelling music. Her inhale becoming his exhale, she moves and plants a soft kiss on his neck. She feels him gasp into her ear and it's enough to make her weak at the knees. Looking over his shoulder, she sees a light begin to flash red above the door.

“Hey,” she murmurs, gesturing towards the light with a movement of her head. “Does that mean something?” He turns and looks, his eyes suddenly downcast as he sighs.  

“Ah, shit. Yeah.” 

“I'll walk ya home,” Benny pipes up, suddenly behind them. 

“Nah, I got it, Benny,” James replies, taking his grip off Olive.

“No,” Benny says, a little sternly. “I'll do it. Olive, you ready?”

“It's fine, I can–” she tries to say, but is once again cut off by incessant squabbling, the two men fighting like catty school children. Looking towards Val for help, Olive sees Everett talking to a man with big brown eyes, hair slicked back into a soft pomp, his body seemingly racked with anxiety. Everett and Val gently push him in Olive's direction, him ushering her away unnoticed.

“Thanks,” she sighs, staring into the pretty cow eyes of the man that rescued her. 

“No problem. Harry Crosby,” he says, gesturing to himself, a hand on his chest as he introduces himself. 

“Hey, Harry. Olive.” He stretches a hand out and she shakes it.

“I heard the commotion. I'm heading back to write to my wife. She would never let me live it down if I wasn't a gentleman to others. I'll walk ya home, Olive.”

“Oh, Harry. That's so kind. Thank you.” 

As he holds the door open for her, she hears the arguing come to a sudden stop followed by a surprised “Crosby?!” and Val storming up to them. “Stupid boys,” is all she hears as she exits the club with Harry, her arm linked platonically with his. 

[spinteresting]

Ev and Dougie

They’re the old married couple of the 100th. They’ve been together a long time but most people don’t know it.

Blakely is a rule follower. Dougie likes to have fun and get rowdy.

Dougie is a romantic while Ev tends to be more practical.

More hcs:

Ev knew he was queer before he joined the Air Force. And he knew how to hide it. Then he met Dougie and fell for him almost immediately. He never planned to do anything about it. He has a lot of self discipline.

While Dougie had passing attraction to all kinds of people in the past, he’d never given much thought to it. He slowly fell for Ev during training and made the first move.

Dougie loves physical touch and wishes Ev would indulge in more “broey” touches they can get away with in public

Ev gets angry when he feels like Dougie is being too obvious around other people. It comes from fear and is frustrating for both of them.

Dougie would trust a few people with their secret, but Ev doesn’t want anyone to know. They compromise by letting a couple of the other queer guys know about them.

Ev tends to be guarded with his thoughts and feelings. Sometimes Dougie feels like he has to pry them out.

Whenever they manage to get leave at the same time, Ev clings to Dougie in private and never wants to leave the hotel room.

Ev loves watching Dougie hit on women. There’s just something fun about it. He’s always surprised when Dougie’s charms don’t work on them.

Dougie always falls asleep first. Ev just stares at him, always knowing it could be the last time he gets to see him like this.

After the war, they move into a “bachelor pad” together and adopt a cat.

Photos from David Shields and Elliot Warren’s IGs.

[bcolfanfic]

would love to hear more about helen’s abusive relationship you’ve said she was in before ev in young vets au? the way you’ve built her up in this au she seems so darling and sweet, breaks my heart that someone was unkind to her 💔😔

oh helen <\3 sweet sweet girl. in my head the guy (that rachel and i never named lmfao he’s been ‘fuckface’ exclusively) was someone she knew growing up that was just kinda lingering around waiting for her to be available.

though he doesn’t actually show up materially until post-Afghanistan war when ev is in west virginia and starts to befriend her. the town they’re in is prettyyyy small so he hears through the grape vine that some solider from nash’s unit has seemed to be hanging around a lot.

and helen likes ev, but for a lot of nash and other related reasons she’s a nervous nelly when it comes to actually letting him pursue her. which is what leaves the door open for fuckface to come in as someone that’s able to ‘get in’ more easily since he has 0 tie to her dead husband/dead father of her little boy.

he more or less immediately doesn’t want ev around. and it’s is a mess bc little wyatt loved ev coming around and is always asking helen for him when he suddenly stops seeing him. which pisses immature little fuckface off, which he takes out on helen. he’s viscous about ev to her, talking about how it’s pathetic someone that knew nash like him would be going after her etc etc. gets inside her head bc that’s what abusers do.

and ev never stops worrying about her when he’s suddenly iced out <\3 doesn’t give up on texting periodically even when she’s vague and doesn’t give him straight answers on anything. eventually it gets to a point that jean gets so worried about things helen is saying that she tells croz about it and that’s what pushes ev over the edge of trying to tiptoe with shit. finds out she told jeanie that fuckface snapped at wyatt and the thought of both her and that little boy being in harms way makes him sick.

of course people leaving abusers is never as easy as we hope it will be. it’s a long shitty ordeal with a lot of backsliding. but that’s his favorite girl. nash was his buddy. feels an obligation to make sure her and wyatt are alright even separate from his own love feelings for her. feels like he can breathe again when he moves her and wyatt into his house on base and knows they’re both safe.