#lemmon says

[rcbertleckie]

masters of the air · part five

[mrsalwayswrite]

What Words Can't Say - Masterlist

Summary: When Abby joined the war effort, her only purpose was to support her cousin and fix up the B-17 Fortresses so they could continue their missions. She had no intentions of getting close to the men who piloted them.

Yet when the 100th Bomb Group flew into Thorpe Abbotts, specifically a handsome blond Major, her carefully built walls began to crumble, one brick at a time.

Warnings: language, canon-typical violence, major character death, slow burn, mutual pining, hurt/comfort, historical & military inaccuracies, (more to be added)

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

More to be added

Tag list: @beebeechaos @claireelizabeth85

[dustyjumpwjngs]

how the bloody 100th likes their coffee

call back to the one i made of easy company here

john “bucky” egan: i know we all saw him pour that whiskey in his coffee.

gale “buck” cleven: a good splash of cream in it. keep it simple

harry crosby: this man cannot stomach anything other than straight black

curtis biddick: not convinced he even likes coffee. i just imagine him drinking orange or apple juice in those green plastic cups from the 2000s

ken lemmons: he does not care. he’s the equivalent of an artist dipping their paint brush in their mugs. he likes it that way. yummy! a hint of oil really does the trick

joseph “bubbles” payne: get this cinnamon roll some sweet treat sugary little drink quick PLEASE

william quinn: iced coffee but the ice is all melted and it’s just water at this point

[fictional-at-heart]

So my brother and I have a sort of HTTYD World War II AU (it’s mainly our original characters, but Hiccup, Tuffnut, and Skulder are in there), and I just had to share a snippet we came up with tonight; we made the comment of how Hiccup and the Joneses wouldn’t smoke, but Stoick would, and Gobber? Well, he’d smoke like a fiend! He’d never be seen without a cigarette in his mouth:

Hiccup one day (sometime after the war ended), staring at Gobber:

Gobber: “What?”

Hiccup: “… how do you still have teeth? And lungs?”

Gobber: “Smokin’s good for the lungs! You know what I say: a pack a day keeps the doctor away!”

Hiccup, scoffing: “More like a pack a day calls the doctor…”

Gobber: “Oh, you’ve been spending too much time around those Jones boys.”

Stoick: “Their uncle was always the same way. Why, in the Great War-“

Hiccup, softly: “World War I…”

Stoick: “GREAT WAR, we were in the trenches one day, and every time I broke out a smoke, I’d feel his eyes on me. And sure enough, I look over and there he is. Staring at me, and I say ah! What’s it to you? And he says ‘you keep smoking them and it ain’t gonna be Germans that kill ya.’ So I told him it’s gonna be ripe old age! You know what he did? *clutches his chest and gasps* and then says ‘gonna be them smokes!”

[mastersoftheair]

"Masters of the Air detail- Part 4-The Lemmons magneto scene E4.

"Apple released one scene with Master Sgt. Lemmons, the Crew Chief, and the rest appeared recently in E4.

"He had an engine problem that they were troubleshooting just before the engine start for the mission. Lemmons actually rode in the gear well of number 3 fixing the engine, as the Fortress taxied out on three engines.

"Cary, the director for the first four episodes, was asking about what Lemmons could be fixing and wanted to know if various things were plausible. One was changing a carburetor, uh, no. It’s not only a massive job but doesn’t fit with Lemmons riding in the gear well. I suggested working on a magneto, as just about the only things that you can get to, through the access panel in the firewall on a B-17, are the magnetos and the starter.

"Okay he said, can we change the magneto? Uh, no, not within the confines of this scene and taxiing out to takeoff. How about setting the magneto points as it would fit the timeline, look good and would be plausible. He said to set it up. Okay, off we go.

"Edit- I did not have access to Lemmons book or John Orloff’s notes at the time this scene was being discussed. Soon after Jessica was kind enough to give me a copy of Lemmons book and it said that he indeed did adjust the magneto points from inside of the gear well.

"I talked to Stewart Heath from BGI. A guy who can, and did, make miracles happen. We talked about the magneto, and I showed him what it and the B-17 accessory section looked like through the firewall opening. He was also going to build a B-17 engine nacelle for this scene!

"I said that almost any radial engine magneto would work and that I could source one if he needed. He said go so I contacted Carl Scholl at Aerotrader in California and asked if he had a mag for a Curtis Wright R1820. Of course he did! And he shipped it off to us in the UK. Thanks Carl.

"Stewart made the nacelle and a box housing the real mag, a dummy mag and starter. It was painted black and looked pretty good on camera.

"Raff Law is the actor who portrayed Sgt. Lemmons. He and I sat down with the ‘accessory box’ and I taught him how to look like he was setting up and adjusting the points on a magneto.

"I pictured the original WWII radial engine feeler gauge tool, with the bent ends, in my toolbox back home and hoped that Props Department may have something close. They supplied some nice period tools and Raff learned what he needed to do on the table at our “office”. Next was time for him to practice in the nacelle that Stewart and BGI built.

"During the building of the nacelle the oil tank was a topic of discussion. I gave them some photos, especially of the stenciling which could be visible and they, as usual, did a wonderful job.

"The nacelle was set up for the scene and the video walls were set up underneath the nacelle. Incidentally the wheels and tires used on MOTA were actual un-airworthy B-17 wheels and tires from the Collings Foundation. Some of you Collings pilots might recognize the flat spots on the tires!! It is cool to see some actual B-17 parts that flew a lot and made it into the series. We will not talk about the tread pattern though will we…

"Several camera angles set up in and around the nacelle and really looked good and helped to convey just how difficult it must have been for Sgt. Lemmons to accomplish what he did. Amazing for sure. I only hope that the Lemmons family is happy with the result.

"So much was put into making this and every scene as rich and authentic as possible that it is a shame that so many of these details didn’t make the final cut. But that’s the way this business is, it’s better to have too much and cut things out than to have too little and the need for more. MOTA was way up on the quality and detail and doing it with all of this specialized aircraft equipment is many times more difficult to do than most other subjects. Well done folks! So many people behind the scenes going above and beyond to make this special [...]"

[clevervonskelli]

I'm trying to focus on what I liked about Episode 7 and my brain is just looping a few things.

-Was that Colonel Alkire at the camp heading up compound staff? I missed if he was named, but if so, I'm quite pleased to see him.

-Frank Murphy getting a letter from his mom ❤️

-The way the show approached the Great Escape. They managed to keep the focus entirely on the tragedy and incredulousness of the situation, and on how it could directly impact the American prisoners in the other compounds. It felt very balanced and very Great Escape in the context of MotA, not Great Escape eclipsing the show.

- MUSTANGS!!!!! MotA is a bomber-centric show and B-17s are incredible in how they can be beat to hell and keep flying, but fighter planes will always be my first love when it comes to WWII.

-Von Lindeiner's removal from his position as commodant being mentioned. He's someone I find very interesting, plus it's nice to have that hint of how there was a whole world of politics going on when it came to the running of the camps and the tension between the Luftwaffe and the Gestapo.

- I loved all the fountain pen shots we got to see this ep when folks were writing.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

By the way, Ken Lemmons is one of two guys:

Never cursed a day in his life. "Heck" is as bad as it gets.

Has cursed every day of his life and regularly says, "Well, shit in one hand and wish in the other, and lemme know which one fills up first."

[lemmon-grove]

Anyone else notice how aggressive tumblr’s ads are getting? It’s like everywhere I look ad ad ad, it’s madness. Twitter isn’t any better… but it’s not tumblr bad.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

I hate/love you

John Egan X Plane mechanics! Reader

Summary: Bucky "hates" the new mechanics...

Warning: Ennemis to lover/ smut/ 18+/ p in v/ oral sex (m and f receiving)/ unprotected sex/ swearing/ use of Y/n/ violence/

Word count: 3.2k

She didn’t know why, but he infuriated her. His cocky attitude, his dumb moustache, his curly hair and his devilish smile. But sadly, she had to see him everyday, as a W.A.C, she had to be on the base all the time. She was an airplane mechanic, and for some reason, Lemmons liked to assign her to work on John Egan’s plane each time his plane needed to be fixed. At first, he didn’t bother her, but time went by, and he started to bother her; his plane had a weird noise, he blamed it on her, the mission didn’t go well, blamed it on her and the weather was shitty, it was Y/n’s fault. She needed that job, and beside him, she loved her job. When the planes came back today, she fixed her ponytail before heading in her jeep to drive to the runway. When she arrived, she saw Major Egan’s plane and drove towards it. She took a deep breath before getting out of her car.

‘’Y/l/n, we have a problem with engine 3, it barely shut down. I thought I was going to blow up!’’ he spat. ‘’Hello Y/n, how are you, by the way I have a problem with engine 3, can you please look at it? Of course, Major, since you ask so nicely, I’ll do it right away!’’ she said sarcastically. ‘’Whatever, can you fix the plane, please’’ he taunted. Y/n snorted before rolling her eyes. ‘’Right away, Major’’ she blinked multiples times and said it with a sweet but sarcastic voice. He cursed under his breath before walking away. ‘’Girls, hook it up and bring it in the workshop’’ she ordered the other mechanics she worked with.

She’d been working on Major Egan’s plane for hours, the sun was down, and she was hungry, other girls went to bed, it was late. She decided to stay up all night to work on his plane, because recently, they flew more missions. Y/n was only going to eat, and she would go back to work after. When she entered the cafeteria, she saw the one person she couldn’t bear. ‘’You got to be fucking kidding me?’’ she mumbled, annoyed that he was here. Non the less, she took a plate that was left and went to sit as far away from him as possible. ‘’How is the fixing going?’’ he asked. She was surprised that he was speaking to her, she stops chewing for a second and swallowed her food. ‘’Good, I’m almost done, why?’’ she was genuinely curious about why he was suddenly interested in her and her work. He rose his shoulder before shaking his head. ‘’Just wanted to know, and I wondered why you were still awake’’ this hole conversation was awkward, but it was the first in a long time that they weren’t mean to the other. ‘’Because I’m fixing it alone, the girls worked hard enough today. I thought I was going to be okay alone, but it’s complicated.’’ She explained.

He rose from his seat, plate in his hands and came to sit in front of her, she was surprised. But she didn’t say anything. ‘’Maybe I could help’’ he proposed. She blinked and looked at him with a confused look. ‘’Why would you want to help me, you can’t stand me and then you want to help me’’ she states. He scoffs and looks at his plate. ‘’Yeah, you’re right, but I want my plane ready for tomorrow’’ he fakes smiles. Y/n rolls her eyes and exhales. ‘’Alright’’ she breaths out.

She ties her overall around her waist, it’s so hot inside the workshop. Her hair is in some kind of a messy bun, but it’s too messy to tell. She has a white tank top that’s covered in grease. ‘’Can you pass me the screwdriver?’’ she asked as she whipped the sweat off her face with a tissue. ‘’Which one?’’ he asked, looking at the table were the tools are. She rolled her eyes and pointed one screwdriver on the table. ‘’No, not that one’’ she exhaled. He scoffed in annoyance. ‘’Which one, Y/n? There’s like 7 screwdrivers on the table’’ he exclaimed. She slid down the plane, he looked at her breast as she did so. She took the famous screwdriver and took a breath. ‘’Can you help me get back up?’’ she asked. He nodded and began helping her get up. His hand came close to her butt. ‘’If you touch my ass, I swear I’ll sabotage the engine’’ she warned. ‘’It’s either your ass or you fall’’ he sighed. ‘’I’d rather fall’’ she muttered as his hand pushed her ass up to help her. She puts her legs each side of the plane and bends over to reach the engine. Bucky had a perfect view of her ass.

‘’Can you start it up?’’ Y/n asked. Bucky was seated in the cockpit, waiting for the woman to boss him around. He kind of found it convenient, because for a wicked reason, he had a boner. He spent almost 45 minutes watching her ass and that white tank top embraced her tits beautifully. Even though she was seated next to him, he could try and hide his growing problem. When he started the plane, the engine sputtered a little bit before fully starting. ‘’Christ on a stick! It’s working!’’ she cheered, resting her arms behind her head, making her tits pop out a little bit. ‘’You kiss people with that mouth?’’ he teased. ‘’I kiss whoever I want with that mouth’’ she replied. She turned to look at him, but when her eyes trailed down, she noticed a weird shape on his pants. She scoffed as she looked at him in the eyes. ‘’I thought you hated me’’ she laughed. He fixed his jacket, to try to hide it, even though it wasn’t necessary anymore. ‘’It’s a hate boner, I swear!’’ he exclaimed. She laughed even harder; she couldn’t believe he was hard right now. ‘’Shut up!’’ he exclaimed. ‘’Make me’’ she dared.

Before he could do something about it, the bomb raid siren was heard. They quickly got out of the plane and made their way to separate bunkers, she couldn’t believe she almost kissed him; him! Why was she feeling like this, all flustered and hot. She tried to get him out of her head, but even the bombs dropping near by couldn’t distract her. Neither could they distract him, plus he still had that stupid boner he needed to get rid of.

That morning, she woke up after having a wet dream about him. It was disturbingly hot, and she couldn’t get it out of her head. It made her angry, why the hell was her brain sex dreaming about him?! She got dressed in a new pair of overalls as she made her way inside the cafeteria, she spotted him instantly. She shook her head as she made her way to her table with her girls. Y/n tried to ignore him, without success. ‘’Hey! Bitch, can you come fix my engine!’’ one pilot said. It was something the girls were used too, but Y/n was not having it, not this morning. She got up and looked at the man. ‘’The fuck did you say?’’ she confronts him. ‘’Come here and fix my engine’’ the man had his hands in his pants. She scoffed. ‘’As if you had an engine to fix’’ she sassed. The girls at the table laughed and the man reacted. ‘’Why are you being such a skank?’’ he spat. Bucky looked at the man. ‘’Dude just shut up already!’’ he groaned. Y/n was surprised and mentally cursed herself and her uterus for reacting the way it just did. The sexist man sat back down and so did Y/n. ‘’That was amazing’’ one of the younger girls exclaims. ‘’Thanks – ‘’ she cuts her off. ‘’Yes you, but Bucky protecting you’’ Anna giggled. Y/n rolled her eyes and scoffed. ‘’Whatever, my coffee is not finished and it’s too early to have this conversation’’ she said.

No one had the right to be an asshole to her but him! Who did this guy this he was anyway?! ‘’What the hell was that?’’ Curt asked. ‘’What was what?’’ he asked. ‘’That, standing up for her’’ he said, moving his hand in a circular shape. ‘’That was nothing, that dude was annoying.’’ He tried to explain. The guys at the table didn’t believe it, but they didn’t want to push him. He watched her from the corner of his eyes, he couldn’t believe what happened last night, he almost kissed her if it wasn’t for this damn siren, who know what would’ve happened.

‘’Faster please’’ she moaned. He was trusting inside of her as one of his hands played with her breast. ‘’I love it when you beg for me like that. It makes you sound so desperate’’ he teased as he rolled his hips harder, hitting her g-spot. She arched her back as she rolled her eyes. ‘’Keep rolling your eyes like that’’ he ordered.

She was zoned out, thinking about her wet dream. Anna snaped her fingers in her face. Y/n shook her head as she looked at Anna. ‘’What?’’ she mumbled. ‘’What planet were you on?’’ she chuckled. ‘’Let’s go, we have to do some touch up on planes’’ Y/n got up and went outside. Bucky watched her as she left, looking at her ass as she passed next to him.

She jumped out of the plane since everything was okay, but she was in front of the prick from this morning. ‘’I just fixed your actual plane, your welcome’’ she smirked. ‘’Thank you, bitch’’ he spat. Y/n whipped her hands on a tissue. ‘’Shut up, asshole’’ she responded. Before she knew it, he grabbed her by the throat and pressed her against the plane. ‘’I’ve had enough of your bratty attitude. You’re going to do as I say. Now say Yes Chris’’ the man named Chris ordered. Y/n had enough room to try to fight. She tried to wiggle her way out of his grip, Chris’s hand loosens his grip, only to slap her. But Y/n took the opportunity to hit him in the balls. Chris falls on the ground, moaning in pain. ‘’Fuck you, Chris’’ Y/n says, out of breath, before walking away.

When he saw her walking with a bloody nose, he felt worried about her. What the fuck happened? He walked up to her, trying to contain his anger. ‘’Oh, hi Major’’ she said, surprised to see him. ‘’Who did this to you?’’ he asked, touching her upper arm to prevent her to walk away. ‘’No one, I, uh, hurt myself while fixing the plane.’’ She lied. He knew she lied. ‘’Who. Did. This. To. You?’’ he insisted. ‘’Chris, the guy from this morning. But I dealt with him. Kicked him in the balls’’ she admitted. ‘’I’m going to fucking kill him’’ he mumbled.

A bloody Chris was walking towards her, she was so confused. ‘’Y/n, I’m sorry for slapping you.’’ He sounded nervous. ‘’It’s, uh, okay? Are you being held at gun point?’’ she asked, concerned. ‘’Kind of, Bucky said he’ll kill me if I touch you again, and he hit me’’ he explained. She scoffed, in complete shock. ‘’Apology accepted’’ she mumbled. She turned around and walked to her room. When she closed the door, she was still in shock. ‘’WHAT THE FUCK?!’’ she exclaimed.

He saw her coming from the air, driving her jeep like a champion. He was still angry with Chris, that idiot had no right to touch her like this. When he landed, Y/n practically ran to his plane. ‘’Hey, Y/n, the engine 3 is still messing around, could you look at it please?’’ he asked nicely. ‘’Are you sick or something or was that you actually being nice to me?’’ she said ironically. She looked at her colleagues. ‘’Hook it up and bring it to the workshop, like usual!’’ she mumbled the last part. ‘’No, I’m not sick, I just tried to be nice’’ he said. ‘’Okay, that’s weird, but nice. I gotta go’’ she said, in a monotonous tone. ‘’Hey, uh, could I help you out later?’’ he asked, scratching the back of his head. ‘’Sure, whatever’’ she jumped into her jeep and drove away.

She was alone, working on the goddam 3rd engine of this freaking plane. She heard the door opened; she didn’t see who it was. ‘’Anna, I told you to go to sleep!’’ She said, keeping her head down. The person that was in the room didn’t respond. ‘’Hello?’’ she asked. ‘’Hey, you’’ Bucky said, walking beside the plane, looking up at her. ‘’Major, you scared me’’ she breathed out. She slid down the plane, landing in front of him. He watched her tits, again. ‘’I have a question’’ she asked, wiping her hands on her overall. ‘’What’s up buttercup?’’ he said. She rolled her eyes. ‘’Did you punched Chris this morning and threatened him if he didn’t apologise to me?’’ she asked. He smirked and proudly nodded. ‘’Are you kidding me?!’’ she shouted. ‘’Not at all, that asshole had it coming’’ he stated. ‘’I can’t believe you. And I clearly don’t understand you either?’’ she exclaimed. She tried to climb up the plane, but almost fell. He did like he did yesterday, put his hands on her ass. But it annoyed her. ‘’Put those hands away!’’ she snapped.

Bucky was walking her up to her room, he didn’t want to be alone. ‘’Why did you punch Chris?’’ she blurted out. ‘’Because he was being a dick’’ he responded. She face palmed, as she started to feel rain drops on her skin, damn English weather. ‘’You can’t punch people just because they’re dicks! Otherwise, I would’ve punched you a long time ago!’’ she exclaimed. Bucky smirked. ‘’Sorry I should’ve let you handle it?’’ he raised his voice. The rain was pouring, they were both soaking wet. ‘’Maybe, I had it under control without you!’’ she exclaimed, moving her arms as she spoke. ‘’Fine! I’ll let him beat you up next time!’’ he breathed out. ‘’Why do you even care?!’’ she asked. They were both panting from the emotions. He came closer to her, practically breathing in her face. He could see her chest rising from the heavy breathing. ‘’I care because you invaded my mind. There’s not a second that goes by where I don’t think about you. The idea of another men touching you infuriates me. You’re mine, Y/n, don’t you get that?’’ he said, against her mouth. She looked at him, then his lips and his eyes again. She blushed hard. ‘’Fuck it’’ she mumbled before pressing her lips against his.

As they entered her room, he kicked the door to close it, there was no going back. The tension they felt was finally broken and they were hungry for the other. He pressed her against the wall while still holding her thigh. ‘’You don’t know how much I’ve thought about this’’ he growled. ‘’Shut up and show it to me’’ she said eagerly. ‘’Bossy, I like it’’ he mumbled against her lips. He laid her down on the bed, taking her overall off at the same time. ‘’God you’re breathtaking’’ he praised. ‘’And you talk too much’’ she said, pulling him by the tie to kiss him. Their tongue danced together as she worked a way to take his shirt off. She trailed her hands on his abs, biting her lips. ‘’How can we go from hating each other to wanting to do the most unholy things to the other’’ she teased. ‘’Right now, I don’t hate you’’ he said, unbuckling his pants. She crawled to the end of the bed, where he was up. She seated in front of him, her face was right in front of his hard dick. She looked at him, her eyes were killing him, so innocent, yet filled with dirty thoughts. Y/n took her shirt off and threw it on the ground, she didn’t wear a bra, so she was left in her panties. Her hand was touching his lower stomach, she loved how his breath deepened when she was near his boxer line. She gently tugged them down, still maintaining eye contact. Slowly, she took his length in her mouth, pressing kisses to the tip, before fully taking him inside her mouth, he let out a shaky breath. ‘’Oh shit’’ he moaned. She started to bob her head at a sensual pace, maintaining eye contact with him. Bucky’s hand found her hair and pulled it slightly, from pleasure. ‘’If you keep doing this I’m going to cum.’’ He warns, she giggled, the vibration making him moan. ‘’Afraid you can’t keep up, Major?’’ she teased. He lifted her by under the shoulder, he made her back up from the bed, he laid down between her legs.

‘’Tell me, do you care about those panties?’’ he asked, she shook her head in confusion. He tears her panties off, like actually rips them off her body. ‘’Did you just?’’ she looks at him, confused. ‘’I’ll buy you a new pair’’ he said before diving in between her legs. He kissed her inner thigh before pressing small kisses on her clitoris. She moaned as she arched her back, he smirked as he continued his work. Y/n’s hand found his hair, tugging hard. He was grinning like the town idiot. ‘’As much as I’m enjoying this. Please Major, fuck me, please’’ she begged. He thought he was going to faint; she was begging him to fuck her. ‘’God, you’re so pretty when you beg’’ he grins.

He rests on top of her, she bucks her hips, trying to have contact. ‘’Look at you, so desperate for my cock’’ he teased. ‘’News flash, Major, you crave my pussy too’’ she moans against his lips. With one trust, he penetrates her, she arches her back and moans his name. ‘’Keep moaning my name like that, shit’’ he moaned. She bites her lips, trying to hold her moan. Bucky rocks his hips to a fast pace, they’re both close and crave a relief. Her breast that he like so much bounce up and down with every trust, he lowers his head to go and kiss them. She tried to match his pace with her hips, but her walls were clenching, and her breath quickened. A part of her didn’t want this to be over, but it felt too good to hold back. ‘’Come on, Y/n, come for me, let me hear those pretty sounds. Come for me’’ he praised. That was all she needed to let the knot explode in her stomach, she came hard, her back arched even more and she was saying his name like it was a prayer. He kept thrusting into her for a split second before releasing into her, he growled her name as he crashed on top of her. ‘’Y/n’’ he moaned.

She was playing with his curls; they were still naked and tangled up together. ‘’I’m sorry for all the mean things I said to you’’ he apologized. ‘’Trust me, I forgive you’’ she giggled. He chuckled before kissing the top of her head. ‘’I have to go; I have a mission tomorrow’’ he sadly announces. ‘’It’s okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, Major’’ she said, smiling to him. As he was getting dressed, he kept looking at her, smiling to her as he did so. ‘’I’ll see you tomorrow, my dear’’ he said, kissing her before he left. That was definitely not a one time thing for them…

[mrsalwayswrite]

What Words Can't Say - Chapter 5

a/n: hope the length makes up for the wait.

Warnings: swearing, unwanted physical contact, mild violence, Gale is a teddy bear

Words: 10k

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

July 1943

Dusk painted the sky in colorful hues when the mechanics finally packed away their tools. Tonight, the small crew decided to go out to the local pub to celebrate Simon's birthday, and everyone was eager to get started. The consensus was the guys would come collect Abby from her hut once they were cleaned up and ready to go. 

Abby would never admit out loud how fast she ran to her hut so she would have even a smidgen more of time. She raced the clock to take the fastest shower of her life and even then she could still feel stubborn spots of oil and grease on her. With the lack of time, she was forced to towel dry her hair as best as she could and then let it fall naturally down her back, so her straight brunette locks ended just past her shoulder blades. She giggled at the mental image of the shocked faces of some of the nurses who painstakingly and religiously used curlers in their hair. 

Slipping into the only dress she brought to England with her, a fond smile arose with the memories attached to the dress. It was a simple navy blue dress with white polka dots all over, the hem dancing about her knees. Her Aunt Hassel gifted the handmade dress to Abby when she arrived to live with them. The first of many gifts and ways that her aunt and uncle showed they were happy she moved in with them. A decision she would never regret. 

Lastly, Abby swiped on Ada's Victory Red lipstick she left on her nightstand, thinking Ada would not mind. More likely, Ada would fuss and want to help her get ready. All the other nurses were off at the Club or doing their assigned rounds, so Abby had the hut to herself. A rarity but especially helpful tonight when she did not want to answer any questions about why she was dressing up. 

Steeling herself, she took a glance in Ada's small compact and fought the immediate urge to wipe the lipstick off and crawl into bed, claiming illness. Warring thoughts and voices buzzed like bees inside her mind. Their sting, an almost palpable thing, as she fought to control her breathing. She could do this. There was no one she was dressing up for, just herself. This was supposed to be fun. It would be fun. No one was going to berate her. She trusted the men she was with. She had promised Ken she would go. 

Despite her own mental encouragement, she knew it would be so easy to crawl into bed. To hide the dress in the bottom of her footlocker again. To erase the lipstick. To tie her hair back up. To return to the feeling of safety. She could do it…

Before she surrendered to the urge, she stalked out of the hut with her black Mary Janes clicking on the hard floor. 

Dusk transformed into darkness by the time she stepped out. Taking several deep breaths, she stared up at the stars as if silently seeking strength. The cool night air slid around her legs, only protected by the nylons she wore. She relished the shiver it shot through her, displacing the heat generated from her turbulent mind and insecurities. 

Luckily the rest of the mechanics came around the corner only a couple minutes after she stepped out. 

“Did you dress up for me, love?” Simon teased, after a long whistle. 

“Only because it's your birthday.” 

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Ken slung an arm around her shoulders, smelling much better than he did previously, as they followed the rest of the crew. “You look nice.”

“Nice?” Winks snorted from Ken's other side. He peeked over at her through the gloom. “Abby looks beautiful.”

“Thanks, John.” She smiled at him, a flush on her cheeks from all the attention. 

Conversations ebbed and flowed amongst their small group as they made the walk through the airbase and onward to the village. A renewed liveliness danced around them, the laughter and teasing increased the further they walked from base. As if a heavy cloak was dropped at the gate leading onto the base and now they could celebrate unimpeded. A warmth filled Abby as she watched and listened to the men around her. This was what they all needed, a temporary release from the weight of their work and all it entailed. A reminder that they were all still young and alive. 

Well, most of the crew. 

Simon was the oldest, turning twenty-eight today. When he signed up, he initially wanted to be a P-51 pilot but as he progressed in the training, decided he liked working on the planes more than flying them and was transferred to ground crew. He left a wife and toddler back home in Michigan. However much he joked that he joined the war effort to get a break from the wife and toddler, no one commented on the way he carried a photo of them in his pocket at all times. 

John “Winks” Herrmann was from Connecticut and Ken's best friend. He was a sweet guy that felt like an honorary ‘Lemmons’ with how quickly Ken and his friendship blossomed into a brotherhood. He hardly ever said a negative word about anybody and was always willing to help out. He was a bit naive in certain ways but mostly because he was young and this was his first time away from home. 

The rest of their group contained: Allen “Al” Hendricks from Missouri, Cricket Cox from Alabama, Paul Wilson from New Hampshire and Lincoln “Dog-Face” Miller from Montana. 

Without any outside light due to the blackout, it was hard to truly tell what the pub looked like. From what she could tell, it reminded Abby of the stereotypical English pub - small and quaint and lively. The only problem was a lot more noise drifted from behind the door as they walked up to it than she expected. 

“I thought you said no one would be here.” Abby quietly asked Ken. 

“Maybe it's locals?”

But something in her gut told her that was not the case, and when they opened the door, light and noise spilling out to encase them and drag them into its confines, like a spider into its web…Abby knew she had made a mistake. 

A handful of locals were scattered throughout the pub, some old men talking and grumbling and several young women either on the dance floor or drinking with the soldiers, but the pub was swarmed with uniforms boasting those of the 100th Bomb Group and RAF. 

As if sensing her urge to abandon the night, Ken snaked an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. He put his mouth close to her ear to be heard over the noise. “It's fine. We'll find somewhere in the back.” 

She nodded mutely. 

Al found a table off to the side, snagging it as the locals headed out, most likely wanting to retain the use of their hearing due to the sheer volume echoing in the place. Abby found herself sandwiched between Ken and Simon in mismatched chairs, but instead of feeling claustrophobic, she felt she could breathe again. She was surrounded by people she trusted and they were out of the main view of people. Not that she was hiding, per se, but she was not here to show off. 

Lincoln and Al came back with the first round of beers and whiskey, and without a second thought, she took a generous swallow of the whiskey placed in front of her, hoping the alcohol would settle her nerves. She wanted to enjoy her time out, she really did. So she resolved to ignore those around them and try to focus on the men at her table. 

She could do this…

*****

“So there I was naked, and hidin’ in the hay pile, prayin’ to God ‘imself that her daddy couldn't see me.” Al told his story, much to the amusement of those around the table. “I waited about two damn hours for the man to leave. I swear, he was like a coon-dog, tryin’ to find me. Well, that damn hay is itchin’ me somethin’ terrible but I don't dare move, right? Who knows if he could see the hay shiftin’?”

“You said it was night. I doubt he'd see you.” Paul countered, leaning back in his chair, as he twirled a screwdriver around his fingers. He never went anywhere without some sort of tool on his person, claiming you never knew when something needed to be fixed. Abby thought it had more to do with superstitions but kept that to herself. 

Al ran a hand down his face. “I was seventeen! And terrified! That man could make even the devil himself shit his pants.”

“What were you doing messing with his daughter then?” Simon countered, ever the voice of wisdom.

“Swear to God, she's the prettiest thing you'll ever see! Even puts Rita Hayworth to shame!” Al placed a hand over his heart, his brown eyes twinkling merrily. 

“No!” 

“I don't believe you!”

“Don't you blaspheme about Rita!”

“Fine, fine.” Al smirked, leaning forward as if to share a secret with his companions. “She had the biggest breasts I’d ever seen and said I could touch them. What dumbass would say no? Not me.”

“There it is!” Simon laughed. 

Abby giggled, playing with a strand of her hair. She was feeling good. Two whiskeys sloshed in her system while she nursed her first beer of the night sitting before her. She was not drunk, she knew that feeling and did not like it, but gloriously tipsy and everything felt light and easy and she wanted to revel in the feeling. Laughter spilled from her lips and she could not remember the last time she had so much fun. 

“So, what happened? Did he catch you?” Ken asked from beside her, a flush on his cheeks betraying his own intoxication. 

Al wagged a thick finger. “No. No. The bastard didn't catch me that day. No. It was worse.” He leaned forward again, a forearm on the table and tapping his finger on the table to punctuate his words. “No, turns out I'm allergic to hay. Who knew? Broke out in goddamn hives that lasted for days. It was awful! Don't laugh at me!” 

But the group laughed anyway at the turn of events in the story. With the embarrassing and hilarious stories being shared, all focused on their group, it felt like they were in a world of their own. The talking and laughter of the others in the pub was only white noise, drifting in and out with the music playing. 

“Alright, whose turn for the next round? Huh?” Paul asked, scratching his thin black beard.  

“I'll go.” Abby said, pushing back her chair to stand up. A wave of vertigo smacked into her and she gripped onto Ken's shoulder to steady herself. 

“You good?” Ken questioned. 

With a smile on her face, she shook her head, dislodging the strange sensation. “Yeah, just been sitting too long, that's all.” She reached out and ruffled his hair, causing him to smack her hand away with a grimace and whine like when they were younger. 

“I'll come with you.” Lincoln said, his thick jowls and thin lips highlighted by the lights. “Gotta step outside for a minute anyway.” 

A new conversation started up around the table as the two skirted away and methodically weaved through those filling the small pub. Abby appreciated Lincoln leading the way, his wide shoulders and thick frame cleared an easy path for her to follow. 

She felt like a fairy, moving around the dancing crowd and seeing the twinkling lights. With a stupid giggle, she spun in a circle, making her dress fan out around her knees. Unfortunately, she bumped into a soldier, but before he could say anything, Lincoln grabbed her hand and dragged her the rest of the way to the bar counter. 

She leaned against the wooden counter, sticky form spilled alcohol and decorated with dents and circle stains from years of use. “Sorry.” She giggled again, tipping her head back to look at the much taller man. “I haven't walked in heels in some time.” At least, she thought it was the Mary Janes that caused her to momentarily lose her balance. 

“It's fine.” He smiled down at her, something indiscernible in his dark eyes. 

She blinked for a long moment, wondering if she was missing something. Why was he still smiling at her? Unsure, she went to brush her hair behind her ear and realized his hand was still in hers. 

Oh. 

“Oh, I'm sorry. Sorry. I just–” 

He chuckled as he pulled back his hand. “It's fine, Abby.” He glanced towards the door and then shuffled from foot to foot next to her. “Is it– I mean, I can stay–”

“Go.” She awkwardly pushed his shoulder, probably looking like a kitten bothering a German Shepherd. “I'll wait for you here.”

“Oh-okay. I won't be long.” He waited for a moment as if she would change her mind, but after she pushed him once again, he quickly stepped out of the pub. 

Turning her back towards the pub, she idly traced the circle stains on the wood. The bartender was helping a group of patrons further down and she did not mind waiting. 

Her thoughts drifted towards her departed companion. She disliked the nickname ‘Dog-Face’ for Lincoln but unfortunately it held merit. He was incredibly kind and humble but his countenance resembled that of a bulldog. To his credit, Lincoln rolled with the nickname. He was a good mechanic and a good friend. Ken had confessed to her early on that Lincoln had a crush on her, although he had never acted upon it and she had never witnessed it herself. She figured it was just boy gossip and Ken trying to tease her. 

As she glanced down the bar counter again, her attention was caught by Captain Dye and Lil, the two coyly flirting with one other. She had met Lil once when traveling into the village to pick up something from the small, local store they had. Abby was fairly certain she had heard rumors that Lil and Major Egan were seen together. The nurses had plenty of thoughts about Lil and some of the other local women, but maybe that was just rumors? 

“I dare say, it's quite a shame to see a beautiful woman standing alone at a bar. A true disgrace.”

Abby turned back, a wave of surprise coursing through her and dissipating some of the clouds in her brain, as she noted the man standing quite close to her. Upon hearing his British accent and seeing the uniform he wore, her mind quickly put together that he must be RAF. 

“Who said I'm alone?” 

He was handsome enough, she guessed. The slicked-back dark hair, the mustache and the cocky grin he wore most likely made many women swoon. But it was the way his gaze appraised her, like he knew he had already caught her without even having to try…that immediately erected her walls and sobered her further. 

He made a show of looking around her. “I do not see anyone or am I mistaken?”

“I'm just getting the next round for the group I came with.”

“Ah.” His grin widened and with a half step, crowded her against the counter. “I'm positive they won't mind waiting a little longer as we get to know each other.”

“No, thank you.” 

“No? May I at least have the honor of knowing your name, love?”

“I don't think that's necessary right now.” She hissed, one of her hands against his chest to keep him from moving closer. 

“I promise to be a perfect gentleman. What do you say, love?”

Yet his actions sang their own tune. 

While he spoke, his hand hovered on her lower back, an unwanted weight to pin her in place. She almost missed his last statement, a final plea for her attention because his hand crossed into turbulent waters and unknowingly released a storm. 

His back faced outward, a shield, a barrier, from the eyes of those in the pub. An illusion of privacy. For residing in that illusion, his hands chose to wander. The left was firmly placed on her lower back, while the right gripped the fabric of her dress covering her thigh. 

“Care to dance?” He breathed into her ear, alcohol wafting like a fog over her face. His hand though, slippery as eel, slipped under the hem of her dress and slid up her inner thigh.

“Get your hands off me.” She quietly snarled, grabbing his hand to cease its further exploration. 

She could feel his sigh against her cheek, that hot exhale of breath. More importantly, she felt his hand on her lower back drift downward…and she saw red. 

On instinct, she stomped the heel of her Mary Jane into the top of his leather shoe, and used her hand still against his chest to shove him hard. 

He hissed, teetering for a moment but catching his balance with a hand on the countertop. 

Slowly, she turned to face him after brushing the hem of her dress back into place, warily watching him for retaliation. She would rather not make a scene but if he came at her again, she had no problem with showing him her infamous right hook. 

Thankfully, he had a few brain cells that still worked. Anger burned in his eyes but he kept his lips closed. His gaze scanned over her with unrestrained disgust. With a shake of his head and a snort, he turned and walked away without a word. 

Her heart raced like an engine being pressed to the max. Placing her elbows on the counter she covered her eyes with her hands and she focused on steadying her breathing. An alcohol-induced fog skittered at the edges of her brain, shoved away by the ugly encounter but easing back in to soften her heightened emotions. 

A minute later, the barman finally made his way to her, apologies pouring off his tongue. She ordered and waited as he filled the new glasses, hoping she appeared confident. The encounter with the RAF pilot had left her shaken. She knew logically she was unhurt and had handled the situation as best as she could. Yet her gaze darted around, perceptions high to make sure no one else snuck up on her. Her hand repeatedly brushed at the thigh that he touched as if she could wipe away his stain on her skin. 

Lincoln reappeared as the barman loaded up the drinks onto a tray. Before he could move the tray to their table, Abby snatched one of the glasses of whiskey and tossed it back. She hissed, eyes smarting as the liquor burned down her throat. Leaving the empty glass on the counter, she led the way this time back to their table, purposefully ignoring Lincoln's quizzical glances at her. 

Back with the group, she tried to embrace the same lightness as before, that feeling of being wholly relaxed and having fun. The shot of whiskey and being back with the mechanics alleviated some of her jitters but she could not entirely erase the twitching nerves or how her gaze frequently swept the pub for that RAF pilot. A vine of resentment twisted around her heart for that pilot, how he ruined her freedom for his own amusement. It was a painful reminder that no matter where she was, she always had to be on guard. 

After she finally finished her warm beer, the clouds were back in her mind and her nerves had dissipated somewhat. At this point, sleep called to her as if from a distance and she was ready to beckon its approach. 

“Ken–” She said in a hush, her head leaning on his shoulder and his arm behind her back. 

“Yeah, me too.” Her cousin replied quietly. “Ready?”

At her nod, the two carefully got up. Ken spoke to those at the table. “I'm going to take Abby back. I'll see you fellas in the morning.”

The chorus of farewells echoed from those remaining. The two mechanics meandered through the crowded pub, dodging the patrons both drunk and mildly sober. Ken led the way, cutting through like a schooner through the waves. With all of her attention focused on putting one foot in front of the other and not being knocked into, she barely noted when Ken took a detour away from the door, her feet faithfully following him. 

“Kenny!” 

“Hey ya, Ken!” 

The familiar cheers for her cousin erupted from the large table in front of them. She briefly wondered how he knew the majors were sitting over here, tucked away in the corner like they had been. The question flitted away from her mind almost as quickly as it emerged. 

“Hey fellas. Just poppin’ over to wish you a good night.” Ken explained, unnecessarily waving like a kid on a playground. 

Abby attempted to cover a giggle with her hand, hiding behind her cousin's back. Was he drunk? He appeared steady enough standing there. She decided to poke his back to make sure. 

“No! Sit down!”

“Yeah, join us! Where's that extra chair?”

“It's here! Sit down!”

Ken shrugged his shoulders, swatting away her hand like a fly. “That's ‘right. Thank you though.”

He did not tip so Abby concluded he was not drunk but she decided to poke him again for good measure. 

“Ouch!” Ken squirmed, turning around to grab her hands to prevent any more pokes. Mischief danced along her veins, so she stuck her tongue out at him. 

“Hey, who's that with ya?” 

By this point, Abby was feeling all three glasses of the whiskey flowing through her veins and the beer she had been sipping on. She would be the first to admit she was a lightweight, not drinking often did that to a person. Plus with her slimmer stature, alcohol raced through her faster than a fart through a fan. 

Hearing Biddick's voice, she shifted to the side to look around Ken. Directly in front of her at the large wooden table was seated someone from the 100th she recognized but could not figure out his name but thought he was a navigator. Beside him was Major Veal, then Major Egan, Major Cleven, Lieutenant Biddick and Major Kidd, while across from them sat three other men in uniforms but she could not see their faces easily. 

“Hey, boys.” She smiled at the familiar officers. That very smile lighting up her face at the looks of momentary shock crossing the faces of the men she knew. 

“Holy shit! Slugger, is that you?” Egan almost spit out his drink, wiping away what dribbled down his chin. 

Biddick let out a wolf whistle. “Lookin’ good, Abby!” 

“Alright, you're going to embarrass her.” Ken waved off any more rowdy compliments, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his side.  

“Now you gotta sit with us!” Egan demanded. “Hey, Bubbles, go tell Croz to get something for Kenny and Sluggar here!” 

“Yes, sir.” The man she couldn't put a name with -apparently Bubbles- got up next to them and held out his chair. “You can have my seat. I'll sit on the other side with Croz.”

“Thanks, Bubbles.” Ken said. He bumped her with his hip, directing her towards the vacated seat while he slid into the empty chair between Bubbles’ chair and the unknown men. 

Once she finally seated between Veal and Ken, she was finally able to discern the faces of the other men at the table. All three were clearly RAF, but when she locked eyes with the one in the middle, seeing the familiar sleazy smirk on his face and his rakish gaze, she wondered if she might end up resorting to violence tonight after all. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you never left the hardstands.” Veal teased Ken. 

“Just out celebrating, sir. We're not allowed to have whiskey at the hut or hardstands.”

“That sounds terrible.” Egan dramatically lamented, then leaned forward and pointed a finger at Ken. “We should fix that! Can't have good work go without rewards!” 

“No, Bucky.” Kidd glared.

“Come on, Jack!”

Abby smiled at the one sided argument Egan was trying to put up. Her gaze slid around the table to land on Gale, and to her shock, locked on her already were his baby blue eyes. Once their eyes connected, the corner of his mouth lifted and he sent a cheeky wink her way. A giggle bubbled up within her, spilling out even as she tried to suppress it with her hand. The sound seemed to unlock something within him for a genuine smile rolled across his face, eyes softening as he continued to stare at her. 

Seemingly continuing an interrupted conversation, the RAF pilot in the middle began speaking, throwing a proverbial wet blanket over the jovial group. “I admire you Americans, you're up there in broad daylight, seemingly oblivious to the downsides.”

“I…I don't understand what you're saying, Captain.” Kidd slowly said. 

“Nevermind, old boy. It's one for the higher ups.”

“It's a question of philosophies.” The RAF on the left continued the train of thought of his comrade, not even trying to hide his patronizing tone. “We bomb at night because it doesn't matter what we hit as long as it's German. Bombing during the day is suicide. I could foresee in the future, American strategy adjusting due to the unfortunate losses you'll no doubt continue to suffer. Maths.”

Abby squinted her eyes at the Brits, wondering what kind of churlish conversation took place prior to Ken and her arrival. Even with her sluggish thoughts, she could feel the strife floating in the air like a cheap perfume. 

Egan inhaled sharply, gaze narrowed at the men across the table from him. “Maths?”

“I mean, maybe if you bombed during the day, you'd hit your targets.” Biddick snarked. 

“And why the hell do you Brits add an ‘s’ to the end of math?” 

The cocky RAF smirked, slowing his tone like he was talking to a child. “Because there's more than one of them.”

Biddick mocked. “There's more than one of them.”

“I can see more than one of you too.” Egan raised his hand, seemingly illustrating his point. “I could knock all of you out.” Veal smacked his hand down but the major kept going. “Probably in one punch. In one punch.”

Thankfully, the arrival of alcohol distracted from the rising violence. 

“This outta wet your whistles, boys!” Crosby announced carrying a tray of drinks over. 

The drinks were quickly passed around, slid along the tabletop or handed to its owner. Abby noted how Crosby specifically handed Gale his ginger beer, a hint of reverence in his action. Yet Gale never took his gaze off the RAF pilots, accepting the drink without looking at the apparent admirer behind him. 

“Here ya go.” Bubbles’ voice snagged Abby's attention away as he placed a whiskey in front of Abby and one for Ken. “I wasn't sure what you wanted.”

“Thank you.” She murmured to the soft spoken man. 

He nodded, then retreated to the opposite side of the table. She witnessed them elbowing each other out of the way and being a nuisance to one another as they settled in their seats. 

“Ken…”

Her cousin looked down at her, “hmmm?”

“We need to go.”

“Hold on, another minute.” His attention turning back to the Brits, sucked into the turbulent conversation. 

With a sigh, she leaned her head on Ken's shoulder. Without looking, he twitched his shoulder, making her head move. Giggling, she smacked his arm but laid her head against him again. She could feel him scoot closer and settle his arm against the back of her chair, before taking a sip of his new whiskey.  

“How about a song?” The youngest of the RAF eagerly changed the subject, directing his particular question to Egan. “I hear you sing, Major.”

Those that knew the major either cheered or grimaced, depending on their opinions of John Egan's vocal talents. 

“Pick one. What's your favorite?” The young Brit encouraged. 

Egan grinned like he had won some kind of award. “Good idea!” Even though many around the table loudly disagreed with this assumption. 

To her hazy recollection Abby had never heard Major Egan sing, she almost opened her mouth to add encouragement when Biddick broke through the ruckus of voices. 

“Hey! You want to get Major excited? Baseball!” 

Egan pointed a finger at Biddick. “Specifically Yankees.” He clarified because apparently the distinction was important. His attention slid to his best friend by his side, a silly grin steadily growing as he gazed at him. “Oh my buddy, Buck, here, he thinks they're a waste of time, don't you?” 

Leaning forward to slip into Gale's space, Biddick added. “It's not just sports he doesn't follow. I mean, you don't follow anyone, do you?”

Gale nodded, allowing a pregnant pause as he bit into a toothpick before casually stating, “I follow you, Curt.” 

“And he would still find a way to show off!” Biddick chuckled, further leaning over Gale, now invested in this strange conversation. “For example, you remember Walla Walla. We had a visit from wing Cleven here, slow-timing Hollenbeck's engines. Just so they remembered who he was. He buzzed the Tower, all engines feathered. I–”

“No. Three, three engines–” Major Veal interrupted, holding up three fingers. “He still had one.”

Bubbles agreed. “I remember he called you ‘One Engine Cleven’.”

Biddick hushed the interruption. “Hey. Hey, hey, hey, hey. I'm– I'm telling the story here, All right? It's my story. It's four engines. Next thing I see this fort sailing twenty-five feet over the runway. Yeah,” Biddick clicked his tongue, giving a dramatic pause, “silent as the grave.”

“Beautiful.” 

“Hmm.”

“Wanted to do that all my life.” Egan murmured, smiling at Gale. 

Those around the table collectively laughed or agreed, a comradery between those of the 100th and their experiences together. Gale shook his head, a hint of color on his cheeks from the attention. 

A barely heard laugh escaped Abby's lips as she watched Egan squeeze Gale's cheeks, further embarrassing the man. 

Kidd raised his whiskey. “I'll drink to that. No Engine Cleven.”

“No Engine Cleven. Here we go. Hear hear!” Those of the 100th tapped their drinks together, too caught up in their own merriment to see the side-eyes and mocking looks by the RAF pilots.  “And here's to Ken and Sluggar for being there to fix us up after!”

With the attention of them, Abby raised her head and grabbed her drink. After clinking her glass against those within reach, she took a sip and licked her lips. She stared at the amber liquid, wondering if she should be worried that it no longer burned when traveling down her throat. Maybe her body was used to it by now? For experimental reasons, she sipped again. What warmth filled her belly was dashed with an icy blast as her gaze locked with the RAF pilot-Byron she thought she heard his companion say. He raised his own glass to her, a mock salute, before taking a sip. Meanwhile his rakish gaze never left her. With a repressed shudder, she looked away and tossed the rest of her whiskey back. She could feel his hands on her again, even if it was only in her mind. 

As if summoned, her hazel eyes connected to the baby blues of Gale's. A slight furrow between his brows betrayed his relaxed posture. She saw his gaze shift to look at the Brits and then back at her. A question there but one she did not want to answer. Even if she tried, the words tangled on her tongue in knots. She leaned her head back against Ken's shoulder, lazily watching the lights around them. 

When Byron spoke up again, Abby wondered if the idiot liked confrontation, especially with his haunty, arrogant tone. “Would you have rather been a fighter pilot, major?” 

Egan snapped, clearly hearing the Brit's tone also. “Buck is a fighter pilot. A fighter pilot who happens to fly a bus.”

“And so are you, Bucky.” Bubbles added. 

Egan shook Bubbles’ hand. “And so are you.”

“So, let me get this straight.” The visibly confused younger RAF leaned forward, pointing a finger between the two majors across from him. “You're Buck and he's Bucky?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there a shortage of nicknames in the 100th?” Byron asked, causing laughter between himself and his two companions. 

Yet Egan's response instantly sobered the group, reminding everyone of the truth of war. 

“No. Just a shortage of crews.”

Bryon stated. “Hmm. Pity.”

Egan nodded along, head bouncing in a way that hinted at his lack of sobriety. “Pity. Pity. Yeah. Pity, pity, pity. What?”

“I said it's a pity.” The RAF explained. “You'd have more if you flew your missions at night.”

The underlying tension returned like a heavy cloud just above their heads. 

Abby watched, shocked the Brit would bring the topic back up again. When his gaze darted her way, everything clicked in her mind. Confrontation. The bastard liked the tension and arguments. She had hurt his ego or something else equally foolish and now he needed to feel…something. Her brain could not even fathom what at this point. Her hazy thoughts darted away like minnows in a pond, back and forth, but there was one she finally scooped up. Without a second thought to the legitimacy of it, she poured it out onto the table. 

“Ohhh I get it.” She sat up and tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowing to see past the fog in her mind. “You're just taking the piss outta them cause you're mad I wouldn't let you stick your hand up my dress.”

Byron barely looked her way as he sneered. “With the way you've portrayed yourself, it's clear you have a deficient lack of taste and standards.”

What tension hung over the table immediately redoubled at the scathing remark. What once had been a brewing storm cloud now transformed into a hurricane. 

“Sonofabitch.” Ken muttered, starting to rise from his chair. 

Abby narrowed her eyes and glared at the smug bastard. Yet in the back of her mind, the stinging thoughts from earlier hovered, as if the Brit's comment had unknowingly opened the door for their return. Stinging thoughts of inadequacy, of never being good enough…

To her surprise, Major Egan was the first to speak, breaking the shocked silence. “Why'd you have to go and say something like that? Especially about Slugger.” 

“Well, perhaps I was getting bored of all the heavy petting going on at your end of the table.”

Egan squinted his eyes. “I don't even know what that means. What's that mean?”

Veal echoed beside him. “What does that mean?”

The two men continued to question, seemingly conversing with only each other as everyone else remained silent.  

“What's that mean?”

“I don't know.”

“What's that mean?”  Egan finally turned back to the Brits, a hard glint in his eyes. 

Byron grinned, as if enjoying every moment of this. “Let's make a bit of sport ourselves. How about it? For the lady's honor.”

To Abby's further surprise, Gale was the first to reply, eyes like steel as he stared down the RAF pilot. “I think that's an excellent idea.”

Biddick's quiet, “Oh, here we go,” was lost as Egan started to stand only to be roughly shoved back into his seat by Gale. 

“Abby.” Ken got her attention, his own focus jumping between the Brits and herself. She could clearly see his want to protect her honor himself but also his concern for her wellbeing. “We can leave if you want…you-we don't have to watch.”

“No…no. I want to.”

“Okay.”

The two mechanics followed the crowd spilling out onto the dark street in front of the pub, only the full moon and stars illuminating them. Somehow word about the fight must have circulated since more members of the 100th emerged from the pub, drinks in hand and drunken cheers on their lips. 

“What does RAF mean?” Biddick called out as he finally stepped outside. 

“Riffraff.” Someone answered, much to the other's amusement. 

Abby was mildly stunned when she saw Biddick taking his jacket off and shaking his arms out. She thought Gale was the one to pick up the verbal gauntlet but she must have missed something. Perhaps he only meant he thought a fight was a good idea, not that he would be throwing the punches. From what gossip she heard, Gale was not much of a fighter, typically having to break up fights instead. But she could have sworn there was something in his eyes when he voiced his agreement….

Not that it mattered now. 

Her feet guided her to the edge of the impromptu boxing ring. A part of her envied Biddick, the foolish wish to trade places with him so she could defend her own honor and punch the asshole. Instead she crossed her arms over her chest, forcing herself to remain on for sidelines. However wonderful the retribution would feel, she could not risk the discipline. Not again. 

“You alright there, Abby?”

Caught up in her own swirling thoughts and wishes, she had not realized she placed herself between her cousin and Gale, the major standing within arm's reach. She glanced at him, noting his gaze focused on her. Warmth flooded her cheeks that was certainly a delayed reaction to all the alcohol she consumed. “I'm fine.” 

Before Gale could comment or refute her statement, Egan slung an arm around his shoulder, tugging him close. “Now why does this sport interest you?”

“Boxing?”

“Mm-mmm.”

Gale fiddled with the toothpick still in his mouth. “Test of manhood.”

“That so?”

“About as true a measure of your will to fight as any, and it's man-to-man.”

“Oh, so you just don't like team sports? How'd you end up commander of a plane leading a squadron in a war, where you don't want to be on the losing side, and still not like team sports?” Bucky nudged Gale's cheek with his fist. 

“I just don't lose sleep over whether the pinstripes beat the polka dots.”

Abby giggled to herself at Gale's response. 

Egan sighed, clearly not as amused at his best friend's humor. “Right. Well, we're all just uniforms anyway. You know that?”

Gale did not reply, his attention focused as the boxing ring solidified. Spectators, made up almost entirely of 100th Bomb Group, stood in a circle exchanging bets or holding onto their pints as they drunkenly cheered Biddick on. 

Cracking his knuckles, Byron stepped forward but instead of looking at his opponent, his gaze landed on Abby. She stilled under his brazen gaze, shocked by the audacity of him. 

“Hey, Curt!” She called out, holding the Brit's gaze. 

“Yeah, Abby?”

“Kick his ass.”

Biddick barked a laugh. “Yes, ma'am!”

If looks could kill, she would have been cremated twice over and that still would not satisfy the RAF pilot. His gaze had turned glacial cold and the corners of his mouth lifted in a sneer. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the company around her and the knowledge that the bastard could not hurt her with so many of the 100th surrounding her. With a shit-eating grin, she continued to hold his gaze until he looked away with a huff and roll of his shoulders. 

“Ya heard the lady, sounds like I've gotta kick your ass!” Biddick taunted, bringing his fists up. 

Byron scoffed. “I'll try not to step on you.” 

Biddick and the RAF pilot began circling each other, sizing one another up while those around threw out jeers of their own. 

“Now, seems like you like to do your fighting at night, Byron.” Biddick taunted. 

The Brit threw a swing that Biddick easily dodged. A few cheers sounded and as the Brit prepared to take another swing, but Biddick made his move. He lashed out with his own well-timed shot, knocking his opponent immediately to the dirty cobblestones.  

“Oof. Must have felt that, right?” Curt gloated, standing above his downed opponent. “Guess who can hit their target at night!”

The other RAF pilots call for space, pushing away spectators and gathering up their unconscious captain.

“How'd I do, dollface?” Biddick asked as he slid over between Egan and Gale, earning pats on the back from those around him. 

“You did good, Biddick.”

He wagged his finger at her. “No, no. You called me ‘Curt’, don't start this again.”

She giggled, despite herself. “Thank you, Curt.”

“As my lady commands.” Curt snagged her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. 

She laughed at the comical scene along with those standing around. After he released her hand, Egan lifted the victorious pilot and swung him around to the cheers of the men. 

“Never mess with the Irish!” Curt yelled with his hands up in the air. 

“It's a pity!”

“Oh, what a shame!”

Abby giggled as the merriment wandered down the dark road, with Egan almost dropping Biddick as he stumbled on the uneven cobblestones. She reached over and wrapped her arm around Ken's then leaned her head against his shoulder. By now she could feel the effects of the whiskey further, that loose tipsy feeling now held an strong undercurrent of tiredness. Her eyelids slipped closed for a moment as she sighed. 

“This was fun.” She murmured to her cousin. 

But the drawl that answered was most certainly not that of her cousin. “I'm glad you think so.” 

Her eyes snapped open and she wheeled back, stumbling on the cobblestones. Only the fast hands of Gale reaching out to steady her saved her from the embarrassment of falling onto her backside. 

“I'm so sorry…I thought you were Ken.”

“It's alright. Can you walk?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

He slowly released her forearms, as if worried she would slip to the ground without his touch. Which truthfully was not an irrational notion. Hyper aware of her body and how the ground seemed to shift ever so slightly under her feet, she took a cautious step forward and then another, arms held out for balance.  

“I did it!” 

He chuckled, taking the two steps to stand by her. “That's real good, Abby. Can you make it back to base?”

“Ohhh.” She glanced around. “Where's Ken?”

“I'm not certain. I think he left with the group.”

She sighed, eyes still looking around like Ken would pop out of the shadows. “He was next to me I thought…and we were going to walk back together…now I'm here alone.”

“I'll walk you back.” 

“You don't have too, I'm sure you want to walk with your Bucky and the others.”

He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I think they left me behind as well.”

She looked around their surroundings, truly realizing that the group was no longer in sight. Actually, no one was in sight. “Oh. Where did they go?” They could not have gotten far in this short of time, she figured, mostly likely hidden by the buildings further up the road.

“I would assume back to base.”

“Oh, yeah. That makes sense.”

“Shall we?”

She nodded, happy she would not have to make the trek alone. At this point she was unsure if she would even know where to go. Her thoughts were fuzzy like little caterpillars inching along, without direction or reason. But pretty at least. 

After one last look at the dark exterior of the pub behind them, Abby fell into step beside Gale. A companionable silence drifted around them like the breeze. Her mind wandered with each step, admiring the stars to dodging the potholes to eyeing the landscape on either side of the road they walked. Memories of the time at the pub glided through occasionally, bringing a smile to her face. She hoped they could go out again soon. 

While her mind wandered, her body remained alert to the man beside her; whose hand barely caressed her lower back when she misstepped, whose hand tentatively held her forearm when they maneuvered around a pothole, whose body radiated a warmth that was addicting…

Time was an abstract thought, all that mattered was the current moment…and at the current moment, her feet hurt. With each step she took, it was becoming harder and harder to stay steady. The cobblestones kept gripping onto her Mary Janes like vines trying to wrap around her feet and yank her down. The heels pinched and rubbed along her feet, having been unused for so long, what calluses she once had softened. 

“Ugh.” She stopped, unable to take it any longer. Reaching a hand over to grip Gale's arm and steady herself, she started on the buckles. 

“Are you hurt?” 

She barely heard his question as she mumbled under breath about stupid shoes and uneven roads. Finally, with a triumphant grin, she held up both shoes in her free hand. “Ta da! Now my feet are safe!”

He shook his head. “You'll tear your feet up without shoes on this road.”

She waved away his concern. “It's fine. I did it all the time as a child.”

“Abby–”

Giggling, she hugged his arm against her body and gazed up at him. “Please, Gale? Please?” 

He stared down at her. The surrounding darkness shielding some of their features, masking their expressions. After a long moment, he murmured a quiet ‘shit’ followed by a slightly louder, “alright, Abby.”

She giggled, nuzzling into his arm for a brief moment, closing her eyes to allow her brain to stop suddenly spinning. 

“You alright there?” He softly asked. 

“Hmmm…my head hurts.”

“Yeah? Do you need to go to medical?”

She shook her head, face still pressed against his arm. “Just need to sleep.”

“Alright, let's get you back to base.”

They started walking again, Gale leading the way down the dark road. Her arms still contained his arm, like a ship's mast to cling to during a storm, her head sometimes bumping against his shoulder. Her heels dangled from her hand, tapping against her thigh with each step. 

A soothing warmth rolled off of him in waves, skating across her skin and drawing her in. A small rational part of her screamed that her actions were unbecoming and inappropriate, an echo of her mother from far away. Yet that small voice was drowned out by the alcohol blazing through her veins and the chill of the night air, forcing her body to seek warmth where it could. 

Her hazy mind recalled the pub, the angry pilot and the fight outside. The flickering lights of the inside. Blonde hair and blue eyes staring at her from across the table. Those soft blues burning when he stood up to fight the RAF pilot…

“Thank you.”

“Mmm?”

“For…for standing up for me against that bastard.” Abby explained. “He wasn't nice.”

“Did he hurt you?” 

She stumbled, more from the frostiness of his tone than the actual road, but quickly righted herself. “No, but he finally got the message when I stomped on his foot with my heel.”

She could hear the smile in his voice as he replied. “I wouldn't expect anything less from you, Sluggar.”

“He was an asshole.”

“Yeah, he was.”

“An assy-asshole. A big one.”

He chuckled quietly.  

They walked further down the road with only the moon and starlight to guide their step and the distant sound of their companions up ahead, talking loudly in the otherwise quiet countryside. 

Abby tripped, pitching forward and almost dragging her companion down with her, if he had not wrapped both arms around her. 

“Why's the road moving?” She giggled, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against his chest. “I almost dropped my heels…I like these heels!” 

“Hey, you with me, Abby?” 

She ignored Gale's question as she looked down to the offender beneath her bare feet. “Stop moving! You'll hurt my heels!” 

“Christ…” He sighed. “Hold onto your shoes.”

“Why?”

“I'm gonna carry you.”

She owlishly blinked up at him. “Why?”

“You can't walk.”

“...I can't?”

He snorted while shaking his head, mumbling under his breath but all she caught was something vaguely resembling ‘adorable’, still too caught up in why she could not walk. Which made no sense. Her feet were still on the ground…even if the ground rolled like waves and she was a ship being tossed about.  She had been walking. Why was she not walking now? 

“Climb onto my back.” He commanded, keeping a hold of her hands as he turned to crouch in front of her. 

“I can walk…”

He groaned, tugging on her hands to draw them around his neck. “Darling, you're killin’ me. Climb on.”

“Okay, okay.” She tried to gracefully hug his back, but what grace she possessed disappeared about the same time the road was no longer stationary. A flop more described her accession onto his back. Her mind was vaguely aware that she was in a dress and the inappropriateness of the situation. But it was dark and she was tired…

Once her hands were secure around his neck, heels still dangling from her fingers, he slipped his arms under her legs. With a grunt, he stood. The motion caused Abby to burrow her face against the side of his neck. 

“You alright?” His voice rumbled out of him, soaking into her chest as she was pressed against his back.

“Hmmm…you smell nice. Better than Ken.”

He snorted. “Thank you.”

It was now with her feet exposed to the cool night air she could feel the sting of the air against the bottom of her feet. “My feet hurt again.”

“I figured. You kept stumbling and whimpering. I don't think you realized.”

“Oh. I think…I think I'm a little drunk?”

“Perhaps a little.”

The rocking of Gale's gait was making her stomach roll, so she stuck her forehead against his neck, trying to focus on his warmth and his musky cologne. “I don't know why. I only had a few shots of whiskey.”

“Mmm.”

“You know…I bet you're a good dancer.” She was unsure in the muddied pond of her thoughts where that one came from or why it slipped off her tongue so easily. 

“I don't dance often.”

“Why? That's terrible. I bet you're wonderful.”

He shrugged his shoulders, stride never wavering. “Doesn't appeal to me much, I guess.”

“Well, I'll take you dancing. It'll be fun! Maybe under the stars. They're always so pretty.” 

He hummed after a moment. “Alright.”

“Yeah?”

“Sure.”

“Okay!” She squeezed his neck as she giggled. “Don't go dancing without me! It'll be fun! I mean–I guess unless you find someone really pretty who wants to dance. Then it makes sense. But you should dance. You'd be wonderful.”

“I don't think you need to worry about that, darling.” 

“But there's so many pretty nurses on base…and those radio operators! They're all so pretty…and they like to dance.” She tried to make him understand. It truly was silly he did not dance. 

“Yeah, but I'm not interested in any of them.” The words coated in his raspy drawl floated around her head, something in them trying to catch her notice like little beacons. But their lights went out before her muddled brain could understand. 

“That's terrible for them. A lot of them have a crush on you.”

“Mmm.”

“Don't tell Major Egan. He'll be jealous.”

Gale gave a bark of laughter. “Your secret is safe with me.”

She pressed her forehead back against his neck. His warmth and the repetitive feeling of his breathing against her chest was lulling her to sleep. “I love the stars. No matter where you are, they're always beautiful.” The thought rolled off her tongue unprovoked, even as her eyelids drifted shut. 

“Buck?!”

The loud shout startled her from the inviting blanket of sleep wrapping around her. She blinked for a moment but allowed her eyes to close once again, face still against Gale's neck. 

“Yeah, John. It's me.” Gale called back. 

Two sets of footsteps approached, disrupting the quiet English night. 

“Any chance that's Abby with you?” Kidd asked. 

“Yeah, I've got her.”

“Good.” Kidd stated, falling into step with Gale on his left. “Ken was looking for her. I told him I figured she was walking with you, but apparently not walking.”

“She hurt her feet.” Gale explained softly. 

Egan loudly scoffed from Gale's right side.“Uh huh. That's the excuse you're going with?”

“Bucky–” 

“I'm just saying–”

Kidd interrupted, genuine concern in his voice. “Does she need to go to medical?”

“I'm fine, sir.” Abby sleepily slurred, her words muffled since she refused to move her face from its current position. “Can you tell the other one to stop being a damn loud asshat or I'll kick his ass.”

Gale chuckled, the vibrations going through her chest making her almost purr like a cat. If she snuggled closer to him, hoping to prolong the sensation, no one needed to know. 

“Slugger has a mouth on her!” Egan laughed, poking her arm. 

She grunted at the annoying sensation, hoping the major took the wordless reprimand or she would definitely kick his ass. After a nap. 

“Only when drunk it seems.” Gale answered his best friend.

“I'm not drunk…just a little drunk.” She mumbled. 

“My apologies. Just a little.” Gale softly replied, leaning his head against hers for a brief moment. She sighed at the contact, something loosening in her chest at the sensation although she was too drunk to put it into words. 

“Did you see that swing Curt made! I bet even Dimaggio can't swing like that!” Egan exclaimed. With his volume and enthusiasm, Abby might have noticed his own drunken state if she was sober. “I'm surprised you didn't want to take a swing at him yourself, Slugger.”

“ ‘m not allowed.”

Silence hung heavy over the group for several moments as the men tried to process her muffled response. It was Egan who asked the looming question first. 

“Not allowed? What's that mean?”

She sighed, turning her head to face Egan so he could understand her better. “After last time, Huglin told me he'd kick me off the airbase if I hit anyone else. Said it was unbecoming or something.”

The shocked silence lasted for all of three seconds before Egan exploded like a firecracker. 

“That sonofabitch! I knew I disliked him before but…Jesus Christ! Jack, did you know about this?”

“No.”

“I can't believe–” 

“John, he's gone.” Gale spoke up, trying to soothe his friend's righteous temper. “Nothing to do about it now.” 

“Thank God! I can't believe he's would–”

The tirade of Egan became background noise when Gale turned his head slightly towards her. “Abby.” Slowly she turned her face back towards him. A spark shot through her as his lips skimmed her forehead, while his whisper sunk like a seed planted into fruitful soil. “Next time something like this happens, you give me a nod. I'll take care of him for you.”

“Like tonight? That RAF prick?”

“Yeah. Like tonight…but I'll knock his teeth in instead of Curt doing it.”

She giggled. “I wanna see that.”

The rising and falling of voices up ahead like waves called her attention, guessing it was the group that abandoned them at the pub. She could see they had entered the airbase, although she did not remember her and Gale passing by the gate. Sleep danced around her mind like fireflies, tempting and teasing but she knew she would not be able to catch them yet. 

“I can probably walk now.”

“Are you sure?” Gale questioned without breaking stride. 

She hummed. “I'll be fine. It's not too far from here.”

Gale stopped walking, but instead of setting her down right away, he hesitated. His grip on her thighs twitched, tightening fractionally as if reluctant to let go. With a sharp release of breath, he finally helped her slide down. The warmth and strength of his hands continued to hold her upright as she found her balance back on the hard-packed ground. With her heels in one hand, the other hand ran down her dress, attempting to smooth any wrinkles and to confirm she was in no way indecent. Alcohol was freely skipping through her veins but not enough for her to forget her modesty. Or what was left of it after riding piggyback on Major Gale Cleven…

“Good?” He softly asked, hovering over her like a guardian angel. 

She nodded with faux confidence, standing upright and attempting to brush her hair over her shoulder. Mindful of the lack of space between them, she raised her gaze to meet his, wanting to thank him for helping her. Something he certainly did not have to do. Even though it was dark, she could feel those baby blue eyes earnestly staring down at her. His warm hands still loosely rested just above her elbows, maintaining their connection. 

“Abby?”

Unconsciously, she found herself tipping closer towards him, drawn back into his aura, his presence, that lean, toned body that was safe. It would be so easy to press her head against his chest, to wrap her arms around him and just dive into to the abyss of sleep summoning her. 

“Thank you.” She murmured, closing her eyes and doing just that. Her forehead landed on his breastbone, an initial sting but quickly ignored. Why did he smell so good? 

“You're welcome, darling.” 

His whisper barely floated on the breeze, words she almost missed if she had not felt them in her chest. 

“Mmm…I wanna sleep with you.”

Gale choked. His chest rumbled and sputtered like he was trying desperately to catch his breath, making Abby's head jostle uncomfortably. Something she did not like as she was oh so close to giving into sleep again. 

A sharp bark of laughter sounded nearby but that was irrelevant to Abby at the moment. 

“You're so warm…ugh, I'm so sleepy. Why does alcohol make me sleepy? I don't like it.” 

“Let's get you to bed.” Gale finally said, wrapping an arm around her waist. 

“M'kay…”

Gale led her a few steps, her feet shuffling along. 

“KEN! SHE'S WITH US!” Major Egan shouted loudly. 

Less than a minute later, she could hear her cousin approach, an frantic undertone beneath his words. “Abigail Lemmons! Where'd you go? Shit! Is she hurt?” He directed that last question towards Gale. 

“Go away.” 

“She's fine, just drunk. The road was too rough on her feet.”

They answered at the same time, although her response might have been less words and more of a grunt. 

“Thank heavens.” Ken exhaled in relief, running his hand through his messy curls. “My family would have killed me if something happened to her.”

Ken reached out, attempting to take her hand. “Come on, let's get you back.”

“Nooo…” She swatted his hand away. 

“Abby.”

She swatted at him again, an irrational irritation bubbling up as he disturbed her almost sleep. “Go away, I'm sleeping with Gale.”

She missed the mixture of reactions of those who overheard her declaration, too focused on burrowing closer to the comfy warmth of the man holding her. God, she just needed to sleep! 

“For fuck's sake, Abigail!” Ken half groaned, half swore. 

Suddenly, Simon was there standing beside Ken. “Hey, Abby, I've got you. Let's get you to bed, yeah? You can sleep with the major tomorrow.”

Even as she felt her body being transferred from Gale's lithe form to Simon's muscular body, her mind refused to accept this and fought back with excuses. 

“Nooo…we're going dancin’ tomorrow. He's a good dancer.”

Simon chuckled, hauling her into his broad chest and carrying her bridal style. “I'm sure he is.”

“Wait…wait! Abigail?” Egan stumbled over, throwing his arm around his best friend's shoulders. “That's her real name?” 

“Yeah.”

“Where'd you think ‘Abby’ came from?”

The dark-haired major threw his head back laughing uproariously, “it's perfect!”

“You're drunk.” Gale tried, unsuccessfully, to corral his friend.

“What's perfect?” Ken asked. 

“Abigail! You get it? Abigail!” Egan drunkenly explained with all his sober confidence. “She's meant to have some 'Gale' inside her. Now all Buck has to do is make his move and stick–” 

But Egan did not get to finish explaining his epiphany as his best friend suddenly and viciously slapped a hand over Egan's mouth and pulled him into a headlock, growling something into his ear. 

“Goddamn children.” Kidd sighed from nearby. 

Abby blinked slowly, hearing the words but her fuzzy brain was unable to string it together to form a coherent thought. “I don't get it.”

“Don't worry about it. Let's get you to bed.” Simon chuckled. 

Ken called out, “night, majors!”

Abby glanced over, wanting to say her own goodbyes but with the way that Gale was attempting to suffocate Egan while Kidd watched on with his arms crossed, she guessed they were busy. 

She barely remembered Simon carrying her to her hut, only the night's cold nipping at her bare skin, and the muffled conversation between Ken, Simon and Winks. How she managed to get into bed will always be a mystery to her, somehow she must have been aware enough to fall onto her cot and not just curl up on the floor. Although in the morning she would wake up still in her dress with a hangover and a lot of explaining to do for those intrusive, inquisitive nurses she bunked with. 

All she did know as she drifted off, that night was the first time she had fallen asleep with a smile on her face in a long time. 

[jointherebellion215]

Birdie

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader

Summary: A rare night out in London has Bucky coming to terms with his feelings for you.

Word Count: 2.9k

Tags: mechanic!reader, songbird!reader, female!reader, she/her pronouns used, drinking culture, cursing, mutual pining, moderate bouts of denial, insecurities, women supporting women because it's what we deserve, let's pretend that The Old Therebefore is an ancient Appalachian folk song in this universe, maybe she's a Mary Sue idgaf, I just wanted to write something happy so LET ME LIVE, WWII era, there's no Y/N but reader has the nickname "Birdie"

A/N: Yeah, I'm obsessed with Masters of the Air. I had to write something for my mans before the creative procrastination literally killed me. Please leave a like, comment, or even a reblog if you're so inclined :)

You can read my OC version of this story on AO3!

Songs Mentioned in This Fic:

Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy by The Andrews Sisters

G.I. Jive by Johnny Mercer

The Ole Therebefore (Accapella) by Rachel Zegler

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This story and any recognizably named characters are based solely on dramatic portrayals of the characters from the series, not the real individuals they represent. All the respect to the actual service people who fought and died in the Second World War. Also, don't copy my writing without explicit permission. That includes you, you AI sonuvabitch.

Your heels clicked on the cobblestone streets, turning into the pub you’d heard so much about. You were out celebrating a very rare weekend off. The Brass had somehow allowed you and twenty other mechanics from base two days leave, so you took advantage of the opportunity and headed straight to London.

Your two best girlfriends from base were with you. Teresa was one of the toughest nurses you’d ever come across. She could give you a wide grin, crinkles around her hazel eyes, and reset a broken bone without breaking a sweat. It helps that she was already working towards becoming a nurse back in New Mexico, the war just sped along that process. You had bonded over your love of books, giving each other recommendations almost weekly.

You’d met Irene on the boat to England. She puked on your shoes almost thirty minutes exactly after leaving the port in New York. You gave a small grin, offering her a handkerchief and a piece of ginger candy and the rest was history. Finding out that she was a fellow mechanic was the icing on the cake. Coming in at a whopping five foot two, the spritely blonde could easily be found in a crowd with her loud Appalachian accent.

It seemed almost like fate for the three of you to have found each other. Being some of the few women on base naturally made you close, but you were closer with Irene and Teresa than any of the others. That’s not to say that you weren’t friends with any of the men, because you were. Friendly. 

All three of you were dressed to the nines, in contradiction to your everyday work wear. You all got ready together in your hotel room, giggling while you applied makeup here, spritzed some perfume there. You all felt confident and were ready to have a good time. You spotted some familiar faces and made your way over towards them, your friends linked arm-in-arm with you. Lemmons was the first to greet you.

Of the fifty men on the ground crew, Sgt. Ken Lemmons was the most welcoming of them all. From the get-go, he didn’t care if you were a man or woman. He just wanted to know that you were capable. You were sure he had to go through some hazing because of his age, which probably changed his perspective on gatekeeping the job. This made earning and maintaining respect a lot easier for the women on your crew. We all came over with the same goal, it was better for all if we just helped each other out.

“Hey Birdie! Nice to see you out and about.”

Ah, the famed nickname. You tend to hum and sing under your breath when elbow-deep in a project. It helps you pass the time and clear your mind. Of course, the rest of the ground crew quickly caught on to this habit of yours, which quickly earned you the nickname “Birdie”. You, of course, never sing solo in public, so this confuses anyone who’s not around you while you’re working. But the name stuck, so here you are. Birdie.

Chairs are quickly cleared for you and your friends, which you all graciously take. You go up to buy some drinks, knowing what your friends like, and quickly return with your drinks of choice. Conversation flows, laughs are shared, and a few drinking games are played over the next hours. Teresa soon speaks up on a topic you’d been hoping to avoid.

“Do you think he’ll be here tonight?”

You shrug and look into your drink, “Dunno. Why does it matter?”

Irene, the ever supportive best friend that she is, backs up Teresa. “What do you mean ‘why’? This is your chance to finally make a move!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You quickly deny, taking another sip.

An unladylike snort leaves Irene, “My ass! You and Major Egan have been making googly eyes at each other when you think the other’s not looking for months. I’m saying it’s time for you to perk your tits up, buck on over and ride that—!” You slam your drink on the table, pressing your hand over Irene’s mouth, heat rising to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Are you insane?” You whisper harshly, looking around to make sure no one overheard you. You seem to be in the clear, which makes you calm down a bit. Irene pushes off your hand, takes a swig of her drink, and consults the person who started this whole conversation.

“Am I wrong?” You look to Teresa, who cringes slightly in agreement.

You gape at the pair of them. Normally, you were the median between the two girls who had vastly differing opinions. But this is what made them come to a consensus? Unbelievable.

“Look, I’m not saying that I don’t want to.” You start, which makes your friends nod encouragingly at you. “It’s just that… Is he really as interested as you think he is?”

They both groan and slump against each other, like they’d just run a marathon. Teresa sits up, scooching your chair in closer so that the three of you were in a private triangle, cut off from the rest of the group.

“Let’s look at the facts here, okay?” Teresa starts to tick off a finger with each point she and Irene make. But you seem to always have a rebuttal at the ready.

“He brings you coffee every morning.”

“I thought he does that for everyone.”

“He constantly fixes his hair when you’re around.”

“He takes care of his appearance!”

“He walks you to the mess hall every day for dinner.”

“We just happen to be going the same way. And we happen to have the same dinner schedule.”

“He read The Hobbit when you said how much you loved it.”

“He’s an adventurous guy, it’s an adventurous book, what’s not to like about it?”

“You two literally will walk and talk outside alone for hours.”

“A man can’t have a stimulating conversation with a woman?”

“He laughs at all your dumb jokes.”

“Hey! They’re not all dumb. Like, the one with the goose and the—”

“Point proven. Anyways! He has your picture in the inside pocket of his jacket.”

That one stops you in your tracks. You brain tries to justify this meaning but comes up blank.

“He…” You struggle with an excuse. “He…” Your best friends give victorious smirks in your direction.

“He… likes the extra padding in his jacket?” You stutter over what is possibly the most pathetic, sorry excuse you could have ever come up with.

“When are you gonna admit to yourself that he likes you? Like, actually truly likes you?” 

You gave a sad sigh, letting the insecurity you were feeling deep down come to the surface. “I just… He’s just so…” You had stomped down your feelings for so long that it was becoming hard to articulate what exactly you’re feeling.

“He just seems so unreal. Like, of everyone he could have chosen, why me? I mean, I know I’m great. But you’ve seen the other girls on base. They’re all so beautiful, smart, classy… and none of them are covered in engine oil ninety percent of the time.” You looked down at your hands, specks of grease and oil peeking out from beneath your nail beds. It seems like it would never completely wash out, no matter how hard you scrubbed. You hadn’t even painted your nails for this weekend, knowing it would be money wasted come Monday morning when you’re back on the clock.

Teresa and Irene share a look that you don’t see, then come forward and grab each of your hands. 

“The words you just used to describe those girls. All of that is you, Birdie. That and more. You being a mechanic doesn’t make you any less of a woman, and to hell with anyone else who thinks otherwise.”  You nodded in agreement, Irene’s words of encouragement slowly washing away your anxieties.

Teresa spoke up next, “You deserve someone who will rearrange the stars and the whole night sky for you. And I’m more than willing to bet that Major Egan is up for the job.” 

“Besides, none of that 'unreal' stuff. At the end of the day, John Egan is nothing more than a man. If he can’t look past his nose and his d—" You gave a squeak to cover up the vulgar word Irene was about to blurt in public. She rolled her eyes fondly and continued.

“If he can’t see what you’re worth and make the effort to treat you a hundred times better than that? That’s on him. Not you. You know what you deserve, and you deserve everything you want. Absolutely everything.”

You sniffed, happy tears coming to your eyes. You brought your best friends in for a hug, thanking them profusely. 

“Don’t sweat it,” Teresa grins into your shoulder “every girl needs to be pulled out of her well sometime.”

You pull back from the hug, grabbing your glass and tipping your head back, finishing the rest of your drink. “Even if he’s not gonna be here, let’s have a ball!” Your girlfriends cheer as the three of you go to the bar for refills.

One drink turns into two, which turns into a few more, and suddenly you’re buzzed. Your group are having a rambunctious time, Irene dancing by the local piano player. Once Irene looks over to you, she stops and whispers in the player’s ear. He nods, then starts a new tune. Irene starts up her voice, walking over to you and Teresa, encouraging you to join her. 

The alcohol has loosened you up enough that you don’t feel the nausea you usually associate with being perceived, so you join in the harmonies you and your friends have practiced in your bunks at night.

He was a famous trumpet man from out Chicago way

He had a boogie style that no one else could play

He was the top man at his craft

But then his number came up and he was gone with the draft

Soon the whole pub was jumping and dancing along to the tune as you brought a new vibe to the pub. It was like a spark that started an entirely new night and everyone was eager to go on forever.

One song turns into an entire set, which ends with a full rendition of G.I. Jive, which had everyone singing along. It was a magical moment; made you feel like you were a part of something important.

Irene sidles up to you, giving you a hug. She says in your ear,

“I think it’s time to slow it down a bit. How about you sing that song I taught you.”

She means an old Appalachian folk song that’s been in her family for generations. You had heard her sing it one night and immediately loved the dark, but strong nature of the lyrics. It was an honor to learn it from her. 

“I don’t know, it’s your family’s song and…”

“And I can’t think of anyone better to sing it to these soldiers.” You gave each other a look, her slight eyebrow raise gave you the courage to nod in acceptance. She smiled, hugging you again, her voice yelled out to the crowd. 

“Birdie’s gonna sing solo!”

The announcement is met with raucous applause, Irene and Teresa shoving you towards a dodgy looking table. Crank offers a hand up, which you take gratefully. As you find your bearings on the tabletop, you quickly spin around and find all eyes on you. 

The crackling energy in the air seemed to simmer, the fast-beating hearts of the pubgoers recognizing a moment to acknowledge you. Nausea starts to make an appearance, but a deep breath quells the sensation within you for the time being.

You take another deep breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

You close your eyes, open your mouth, and sing.

Meanwhile…. 

Majors Gale Cleven and John Egan walk down the familiar street, one eager to catch up with his fellow countrymen’s alcohol intake, the other just happy to spend time with his friends. They were arriving later to the festivities due to being caught up in filling out reports. By far the worst part of having a higher rank was the paperwork.

“It’s pretty quiet.” Buck acknowledges. “They’re usually rowdier by this point.”

Bucky sniffs, shrugging off the concern. “Ah, it’s probably nothing.” 

As the two men approach the pub, they find that a crowd has formed. Soldiers, civilians, RAF, USAAF, old, young— people had obviously stopped to watch whatever was going on. It was dead silent, save for a voice singing. Was there a radio show on or something?

A familiar face peeks out at them from the crowd, DeMarco quickly waving them over. 

Bucky is quick to question, “Hey, what’s going on?” but is immediately shushed by nearby crowd members. Buck cringes in apology, despite not being the one to disturb the peace. His best friend, ever unshaken by the opinion of strangers, carries on.

DeMarco leans in, whispering, “Your girl’s taking us all to church.”

“My girl..?” Bucky’s nose scrunches in confusion. He makes space through the crowd and quickly makes sense of DeMarco’s words. It was you.

I’ll catch you up

When I’ve emptied my cup

When I’ve worn out my friends

When I’ve burned out both ends

Standing on a tabletop, watchful eyes sat all around you like baby ducks flocking to their mama. You were captivating everyone with each note and word that flows from your mouth. Damn, you've got a set of pipes— a voice that belongs on the radio, in concert halls, on Hollywood records. He had no idea.

His little Birdie.

“Wow.” Buck mutters in awe from behind him, and Bucky couldn’t be more in agreement.

When I’m pure like a dove

When I’ve learned how to love

He hadn’t noticed before, but her eyes were closed. Like she needed to concentrate on each and every breath she took, every single movement her body made, before letting them out in an angelic melody.

As if by divine intervention, her eyes pop open and lock on his as she belts “how to love” 

It could’ve been an eternity, for all he knows, the amount of time that they spent locked in each other’s gaze. The world pauses around them, everything frozen. Her eyes were already the kind to knock a man clean off his feet with a single gaze, but he thinks- for a brief moment- that his heart completely stops beating.

John Clarence Egan would swear every day from then on, until his dying breath, that the course of his life was altered in that very moment. He knew how it would continue from then on, and how it would end. How he wanted it to end.

Then the world starts back up and carries on.

Right here in the old therebefore

When nothing is left anymore

Her final hums are joined by a short blonde woman who stands nearby, another face he recognizes from base. 

The applause that picks up after the end of the song is near deafening. The star of the hour gives a shy smile, a quick curtsy and is given a hand to step down from the table.

Everyone soon starts mingling, the normal chatter of the bar returning. But Bucky is stuck in his spot, dumbfounded. In all the conversations you’d had together, somehow this never came up. He should’ve put two and two together, as he recalls overhearing your hums one morning as he made his daily coffee delivery to you. But you had been caught off guard, so much so that you tripped off the ladder you stood on and fell. Luckily, his quick reflexes kicked in to catch you before any serious injuries occurred. 

Remembering the sensation of his hands on your waist and thighs, face just inches from yours, sent his brain into a tailspin. That’s not even considering just how damn cute you were when, after a beat, you turned away from him and playfully mourned the cups of coffee that were splattered all over the hardstand.

“John. John?” A hand waving in front of his face knocks him out of his reverie. He blinks once, twice. Then looks to his best friend.

His voice comes out uncharacteristically weak in response, to which he then clears his throat and corrects. “Yes—yeah?” He pops the collar of his sheepskin jacket to try and hide the rampant red of his ears that signals the heat radiating from them.

Buck just shakes his head and gives him a knowing smile. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, Egan. Never thought I’d see the day.”

“See what day?” Bucky starts to consciously return to his body, leaning on the bar.

“The day when a girl finally knocks you on your ass. I knew you had a thing for her, but that?” He points to his face and motions to indicate where they had just been standing. “That’s something else. That’s something real.”

Bucky gives another shrug in response, to which Buck throws back an unconvinced frown. He turns his head to gaze over the pub patrons and is distracted by you once again. Any denial he was about to spout immediately dies in his mouth when you lock eyes with him again and give him a dazzling smile. The world starts to fade away again.

His heart pumps faster in his chest at the sight. Damnit. He sighs, telling his best friend the truth he’s been privately wrestling with for a while now, all the while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

“I know, Buck. I know.”

Bucky smiles back at you and is elated when your face lights up. You give him a wave.

“She kinda snuck up on me.”

[sagesolsticewrites]

Masters of the Air Masterlist

Major Gale “Buck” Cleven

Kiss It Better? 💋 - my very first MOTA drabble based on the prompts “boo boo kisses” & “ pet names” (base nurse!reader)

Kiss It Better pt 2 💋 - That lipstick mark leads to a surprising turn of events 👀

Major John “Bucky” Egan

Oblivious - Bucky’s been trying to get your attention for months now, but you continue to misinterpret his romantic advances as friendship. Everyone else on base is tired of seeing you two dance around each other, and they decide to take matters into their own hands.

Homecoming - John finally returns home to his girl (based on the prompt “carrying the other one in their arms”)

requests are open!

Lt. Harry Crosby

Just Say Yes - Tooth-rotting fluff based on the prompt “If you asked me to marry you tomorrow, I’d say yes.” “What about today?”

Harry Crosby Certified Wife Guy™️ - minific about Croz being head over heels for his wife and the entire 100th knows it

Dear… - A series of letters from one Lt. Harry Crosby to his wife 🤍 (a sort-of continuation of Just Say Yes, but can be read as a standalone!)

A Little Fire - In which Harry Crosby shows his wife exactly how much he appreciates her 😏 (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Heat Wave - It’s the hottest summer Iowa’s had in a while. Your husband wears shorts. It gets even hotter (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

In My Arms - Sometimes your husband just needs to be held. (lots and lots of fluff) (coauthored with Winnie!)

Yes, Major - … I mean. Do I even need to say it? 👀 Dom!Croz (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

requests are open!

Sgt. Ken “Kenny” Lemmons

• requests are open!

Lt. Curtis “Curt” Biddick

To The Rescue - in which your friends drag you out to a bar against your will, but you meet a certain soldier that makes it worth it

requests are open!

Major Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal

Take A Break - Rosie runs into a childhood friend at the flak house

Welcome Home - Rosie finally returns home after his second tour, and you take the opportunity to show him exactly how much you missed him 🫠 (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

It’s Been A Long, Long Time series:

Kiss Me Once - The moment you’ve been anxiously awaiting is finally here — your boyfriend Rosie Rosenthal finally arrives home

Kiss Me Twice - You and Rosie finally have a “proper reunion” 😏😉 (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Kiss Me Once Again - Rosie takes you to his apartment for a proper date night away from his family 😏 (18+ minors dni!)

requests are open!

Captain John Brady

Brady’s Smash Wagon - Your boyfriend (Captain John Brady) takes you (his Red Cross girlfriend) to see his Flying Fortress. Shenanigans ensue 👀 (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Love’s Light Wings - John Brady x Juliet Thompson (OFC)

Pen Pal - Jules gets a letter from her boy an ocean away— as well as a message from a new friend. (taking place pre-LLW prologue, just a little blurb about Jules getting the letter Olive wrote to her in Part 7 of @winniemaywebber’s masterpiece Honeysuckle Rose!)

Hot Summer Night - In which John Brady helps his wife through a stiflingly hot New York summer night (18+ minors dni)

Yes, Captain - Things are getting steamy for the Bradys when Jules lets a certain title slip— John decides he likes it (18+ minors dni)

Prologue (“for stony limits cannot hold love out”)

Chapter 1 (“as boundless as the sea”)

Chapter 2 (“the course of their love never did run smooth”)

requests are open!

Captain Bernard “Benny” DeMarco

Pyaar Dosti Hai - Benny DeMarco x Ruthvika Patel (OFC)

Chapter 1 - Ruthie Patel runs into a certain furry member of the 100th Bomb Group— and his owner— on her way to celebrate her friend Juliet’s engagement to John Brady. The gang quickly welcomes her into their found family, but there could be something more between her and Benny DeMarco— if either of them ever finds the courage to make a move.

requests are open!

Anthony Boyle

Sundress - in which date night takes a turn when Anthony sees the outfit you’ve chosen (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Lipstick Kisses - the sweetest, spiciest Anthony fic y’all ever saw (feat… uh, Things Happening in cars 👀) written by my bestie Winnie!!! (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Pillow Talk - Anthony is in desperate need of rest & relaxation when he returns home from his latest project, and you’re more than happy to provide it. (coauthored with Winnie!!!)

Come and Kiss Me - Anto takes you as his date to the Oscars. Things get very soft and veryyyy spicy (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

The Stache Fic - Anto grows a mustache. You like it… a lot. (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

Better Kind of Best Friend - Anthony, your friend-with-benefits, stops by for an impromptu visit after an interview. (spicy!! 18+!! minors begone!!)

No Rush - just a soft lil makeout blurb <3

Freckle Kisses - very short very sweet lazy morning blurb

Waking Up Next to You - soft lazy morning smut <3 (spicy!! 18+!! Minors begone!!)

i thought we had no chance (and that’s romance) - You resolve to tell Anthony about your feelings— with surprising results. (Part Two to Better Kind of Best Friend) (spicy!! 18+!! Minors begone!!)

[undying-love]

"At one point John says "Ah, gee, it's been such a long time," John said, addressing Paul, before bizarrely adding: "when I look at Jack Lemmon, I'm in love again. I feel him coming all over me.”

-Man On The Run, by Tom Doyle (on their 1974 jam session)

[obrowne21]

ʙᴀʙʏ ɪ’ᴍ ʏᴏᴜʀꜱ

Chapter 2 - “Hates the Perfect Word”

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

“Don’t stay out here too late, Baby.”

Sergeant Ken Lemmons was only partly joking with Baby when he said this to her. However over the three weeks of getting to know the stubborn blonde, he realized it wasn’t so far fetched for her to lose track of time.

And that would be proven correct as Baby was still out on the Airstrip, working away. She found it difficult to leave seeing as the view was so beautiful. The sunset painted the sky a warm orange and pink tone. A calm breeze briefly passed her, ruffling the tall grass, the trees, and even the bottom of her dress as it did so.

Sighing, she found a comfortable spot on a nearby crate. Busying herself by screwing two engine pieces together with a basic rod. The action was done smoothly like muscle memory.

A loud sound of an engine and the screech of tires had broken her peaceful state. Internally rolling her eyes, Baby prepared herself.

That could mean only one thing.

The jeep made a rough stop in front of her causing her to look up at the person responsible for the interruption.

Major John ‘Bucky’ Egan.

Even the thought of his name sparked annoyance in Delilah. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was about him that was so infuriating.

Maybe it was the way he walked around base like he was the king of the world. He had everybody under his spell, especially her brother Gale. She couldn’t understand how the two had ever became friends.

Or maybe it was how he would sometimes get caught looking at her but would never say anything.

It was like a game of tug of war. Always giving her signs of interest but then taking it back as if he physically and mentally couldn’t bring himself to go there with her. Like something was stopping him, more like someone.

She had a pretty good idea of who.

“A little birdy told me you were out here.” Leaning back in his seat, Bucky faced the woman.

Delilah, uninterested, gave him a nod before focusing back onto her work. “Never really liked birds.”

“Sad to hear that. They’re real fascinating creatures. I’m more of a unicorn guy myself-”

“I bet you are.”

After a beat of silence, Delilah glanced up to see him staring at her once again. It could’ve been because she had just rudely interrupted him but by the way the corner of his mouth twitched into his signature smirk made her think differently.

His eyes held nothing but admiration as he kept his gaze on her. The way she smoothly worked away like it was her second nature was wildly attractive. Not to mention the quick wits that shamelessly left her pretty mouth, which instead of feeling insulted he would always feel more amazed by her.

“Gale send you out here?”

“No.”

“So tell me…Major Bucky,” The name rolled off her tongue as a taunt. Placing the tool and engine piece down beside her, she leaned back onto her hands. “To what do I owe the pleasure of being in your presence?”

Bucky watched as she seductively crossed her legs and tilted her head awaiting for an answer. The reminder that she was his best friends little sister kept blaring in the back of his mind. But it was so damn hard to listen to.

“Maybe I just want to be in yours.” Copying her action, Bucky tilted his head. “You ever think of that?”

”It’s hard to when you’ve been avoiding me like the plague.”

He knew exactly what she referring to. Part of it was intentional but at the same time he really never knew how to approach her. Which was odd for him.

John Egan never struggled in talking to women. However he would always overthink with Delilah. She made him nervous, in a good way.

“Can’t say I know what you’re talking about, sweetheart.” Bucky let out a nervous scoff knowing he had been called out.

The use of the nickname made Baby raise her eyebrows in surprise. “That’s a new one.”

“You like it?”

“I’m not sure yet.” She shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve been called many things, Major Bucky, but sweet has never been one of them.”

“What?” He dropped his jaw dramatically, pretended to be shocked. “You’re the sweetest.”

Bucky watched as she let out an adorable laugh as she threw her head back. A small wave of pride washed over him at the fact that he got her to smile, let alone talk to him for more than five seconds.

“If I’m sweet then you’re a good singer.” She playfully jutted.

“Oh,” He placed a hand on his heart. “You wound me, Baby. I’d have you know I’m an excellent singer.”

“A little birdy told me differently.”

Looking away Bucky chewed away on the piece of gum in his mouth. Damn, she was good.

“If this birdy happens to be tall, boring, and has a head full of blonde hair on his head than you should ignore him and come see for yourself.”

Delilah laughed not taking him seriously. “Yeah, okay.”

“I’m serious.” He said. Eyes connecting with her honey brown ones. “There’s a dance, day after tomorrow. Come and I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Might skip out on this one.” She declined.

Nodding Bucky looked down. An idea popped into his head that might change her mind. “Huh, guess you Clevens are more alike than you want to admit.”

If there was anything he learned from witnessing the Cleven sibling duo was that they both were complete opposites. Buck was more serious, rule follower, and never really liked to do anything risky.

And although he didn’t talk to Delilah much, he would notice how she liked to do things in an untraditional way. Her presence here as one of the first female mechanics proves that. She also loved to make fun out of most situations. A small joke was always at the tip of her tongue and she could never keep it there.

He’d like to bet she loved to dance too.

Picking up the tool beside her she pointed it at Bucky with an annoyed glare. “Take that back right now.”

Bingo.

“Makes sense.” He shrugged his shoulders innocently. “Guess the ‘never have a good time’ genes got passed down to both of ya.”

“I can have a good time.” She rebutted.

Bucky nodded, not really convinced at all. “Okay.”

A moment of silence passed as Bucky continued to poke fun at Delilah as she thought over his words.

Letting go of her cheek, the one she was anxiously biting, Delilah sighed. “What times the stupid dance?”

A smile of victory took plastered across the Major's face as he mentally celebrated. “I’ll be there at 8:00, that’s when the real party starts.”

“Can’t wait.” She gave him a fake smile.

Taking a look around, they both knew that it was about to get dark soon and should head back.

Reaching over the passenger seat of the Jeep, Bucky propped open the door with one arm. “Hop in, sweetheart. I’ll give you a ride back.”

“I have a bike, you know?”

“That old thing?” Simultaneously the two turned to look at the bike leaning on the side of the crate she was sitting on.

“Yeah,” Delilah smiled proudly. It was one of the things she built on her own when she first got here. “Isn’t he pretty?”

“He?”

“Well you men always refer to your cars and planes as woman, so I’d thought I’d return the favor.”

As the blonde continued to admire her piece of work, Bucky’s gaze shifted to her. Taking in her smooth tan skin and pretty freckles that he’d like to individually kiss. And finally her full lips that were just calling his name.

He watched as she grabbed the handles of the bike and easily kicked her leg over to get on it. He furrowed his eyebrows. “Baby?”

“I’d rather ride a thousand miles on this old thang than one in there with you.”

He was left speechless as she petaled away without a second thought. The fact that her and a Buck were siblings was still a shock to him.

No matter how different the two were they both had something in common. The Clevens had captured John Egans heart. With a Buck it was respect and friendship. And with Delilah.

Oh, Delilah. He hadn’t even got to know her fully yet and she already had him hooked.

Snapping out of his trance he started the engine before catching up and riding along beside her. Now he was back to looking between the road and her pretty side profile.

“Still got you to go to the dance with me.” He gloated.

Once again, John Egan had managed to make her smile. Shaking her head she tried to petal faster but he would just match her speed. “I hate you!”

“Hates a strong word.”

“Hates the perfect word.”

▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣▣

A/N : As y’all can tell I love a good slow burn. Hope y’all liked it! Let me know your thoughts on it please, I love to hear feedback.

ALSO DAYUM YALL REALLY CAME THREW WITH THE LIKES ON MY POSTS

Tag list(I can’t believe I have those now🤭):

@valenftcrush

@justheretoreadthhx

[getinthefuckingjaeger]

The solution to this is clear as day - which is why Jack sent a hail Mary, pulled all the charms he's got left in him after months with his favourite degenerates, and got to work with Egan. He's leaning heavily on Egan's thing for authority, firm hands, quiet words, and subtle praises.

He's also sweating through his uniform every time he plays the game in the officer's club or pubs because he can feel the weight of a razor-sharp stare on his back. Lord have mercy he feels like being flayed when he runs a firm hand from shoulder to waist when he walks Egan over to the bar. But one glance in the corner where Biddick is holding court with the RAFs, a hand discreetly pointing at Egan, Jack knows this is for the greater good. Hard to explain to their host country how and why an entire squadron of their pilots suffer psychological trauma after one conversation with one of their distinguished Majors.

Now Jack isn't egotistical or anything the like, but he knows that out of all these idiots (multiple nationalities alike), he's the one with the best chance to get under Clevens skin because he's the only one who can get Egan to lean into his shoulders like a sweet dame with his hand on the small of Egan's back.

So. Until Cleven unclenches his ass and his jaw and do something about it, Jack is gonna keep taking one for the team and woo the shit out of John Clarence Egan because he can't keep losing replacements to Cleven's petty revenge. Or risk Biddick's murder because he needs all the experienced airmen he can get.

curt convincing everyone to playfully flirt with bucky and buck silently losing his goddamn mind

[middlingmay]

Gale meets drunk Bucky AU

Gale discovered the height of hypocrisy when his mother told him, "Don't you never take up with no drinking man. Bring you nothin' but hurt, Gale Cleven."

The she'd watch his father raid their spare change jars, her jewellery drawer, and drink bottle after bottle, and rattle Gale's head of the wall when the little boy had dared to say enough and tried to stop daddy from ruining everything, but ruining himself most of all.

And she'd swallow James Cleven's apologies in the morning.

But hypocrisy or not, Gale vowed to obey those words of his mother.

When he was older and gone from his parents' house - from their lives - and those boys sidled up to him to buy him drinks? Gale stared down his slender nose with a look so cold, they slinked off with their tail between their legs. Better they think him a stuck up son of a bitch before the booze turned their words harsh and their grips cruel.

Those friends who sneered at him for not going to parties? They weren't his friends for long. If they treated him like that sober, then Gale didn't want to think of how they would treat him drunk.

But he had Rosie and DeMarco and Lemmons and Crosby. And yeah they liked a drink, but they liked his friendship more and they found a balance that worked.

But then he met John "Bucky" Egan.

He was full of bravado and confidence like Gale had never seen before. It wasn't arrogant or pushy. It was...encompassing, warming, inviting. Like he was ordering it to rub off on ya so you could feel good too.

Crosby had mentioned his friend Curt and his friend Bucky and he'd laughed and said, "You'd hate him, Gale."

And Gale didn't like to think of himself as a hateful person, so he agreed to tag along and meet Crosby's friends.

He met a short New Yorker with a meaty fist he used to tap your shoulder and move people outta your way. And he met a tall man with a head full of fluffy curls and eyes like the night sky in Wyoming, and a wide, soft smile and a face full of freckles and damn wide shoulders -

And a tumbler of whisky in his hand.

But that part of his brain that normally clicked off the second he caught sight or smell of alcohol, just, didn't trip this time. Not around John. Not around Bucky.

Don't get him wrong, with every mouthful, Bucky swore and hollered and jeered with Crosby and Curt, but in the next breath he turned to Gale and spoke easy.

A few more sips and his hands - which were well acquainted with Curt and Croz - crept towards Gale and his knees and his thighs then his shoulders and his neck.

But instead of making Bucky louder or mad or sad or mean, every drink made him softer; let his affection flow more freely. His smiles got wider and his cheeks got rosy and his eyes glittered every time he looked at Gale.

It made Bucky blush and lean into Gale and hum into his ear, "You are the prettiest guy I've ever seen. Look at'cha. It's intolerable. It's rude. Where've they been hiding you?"

"Caspar," he said.

"Well shame on Caspar."

And at the end of the night when Bucky's liquid courage sent him rocking forward and pressing warm, full lips over Gale's own with a gentle breath and a little slip of a sound -

Gale didn't flinch.

Instead, when Bucky blushed again and pulled back looking sheepish, Gale followed and kissed him all sweet like, before jogging to catch up with a jeering Crosby, leaving John standing there like a love-drunk fool.

Crosby shoved him as they walked home. "I thought you didn't like drunks?!"

Gale nudged him with his shoulder. "I don't. I think I just like John."