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winniemaywebber · 3 months

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There's No Place Like Home

It's 1949. Mr and Mrs James Douglass have been married for two years, living in a beautiful little house that's backed by an apple orchard. Olive works at the local department store, Knapp’s, where her only highlights of the day are kissing her husband goodbye as he takes her to work, and kissing him hello again as he picks her up to take her home.

Knapp’s Department Store; the end of a long day for Olive Douglass. Between being poked at for her accent, working through her lunch hour and a snooty lady yelling at her before clocking out time, Olive is more than ready to return home to her husband, who at this very moment, is driving home through Downtown Lansing, the top down on the car. He is on his way to pick up his wife, who currently feels like the grumpiest lady in the whole of Michigan.

“Goodnight, Olive!” she hears, looking over her shoulder as she lights a cigarette. She sees Kelly and Molly, two pinch faced, stuck up sisters whose voices are so shrill that it made Olive recoil and cringe. “See you on Monday!”

“Uh-huh,” she replies, trying to force a smile.

“Goodnight, your Majesty,” Molly murmurs, an awful British accent being used in her horrific high tone.

“Molly!” Kelly scolds, ushering her away. “She's a nice girl, leave her be.”

With a roll of her eyes, Olive stands and smokes, thinking of what her best friend, Valencia Blakely, would say to the pair of them. Olive is sure the comebacks would be wordless, the furrow upon Val's brow being enough to scare them off. As she stubs out her cigarette, she sees her husband coming to a stop in front of her. He sees her scowl before he even approaches her.

“Now, what's this?” he asks, turning off the engine and walking up to where she's standing. “Who's upset my wife?”

“Oh, just a couple of catty assholes.”

“Let me at ‘em,” he says, his voice a little gravelly. He tips her chin so her lips meet his and she melts into him instantly. “Let's get you home.”

“Yes, please,” she replies, just wanting to rot in bed for a little while until dinner. “I need a lie down.”

“Oh, of course. Not for long though, I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?” she squeals, clutching his hand as he starts the car. He puts it to his lips, kissing her hand gently three times as he nods, his eyes twinkling in the delight of the secret he holds within him.

—

The second she steps out of the car, she feels at peace. Olive had never felt at home anywhere before taking a tumble into a whole other era, landing right in the middle of a war, winding herself on the hardstand of Thorpe Abbotts Air Base. It was the people she met that had made it a home for her: her best friends, Val and Helen. Dougie’s best friend and Val's husband, Everett Blakely, a brother to Olive alongside Bernard Demarco, Robert Rosenthal, Harry Crosby and John Brady, Olive now best friends with all of their sweethearts. It was the kind of life she'd always dreamt of and the cherry on top of the cake was meeting James Douglass, marrying him just a few years after the war had ended.

“Our new home,” Dougie had said as he carried her over the threshold, opening the bright red door for her to welcome her inside. It was dainty, small, yet the most perfect house Olive had ever seen. He had taken her through every room, Olive totally blown away by how he'd painstakingly chosen the perfect colors for each wall without needing any guidance. The dining table he and Ev had made together, and the sweet accessories Val had added to each piece of furniture. This home had a little part of everyone in it - pictures from Thorpe Abbotts, the whole gang at their first Independence Day barbecue hosted by the Bradys, Val and Olive together on their wedding days - and that's why Olive adored it so much.

As she walks into the kitchen, she is greeted by a fresh, floral smell from the aforementioned dining table. There, sits Grandma Pearl's green vase, filled to bursting with pink and white peonies.

“Saw these when I walked to the diner for lunch,” Dougie says shyly. “I know you love peonies at this time of year.”

“You remembered!”

“Of course I remembered, silly. The second I saw them, I thought of you.”

“You're so sweet, honey,” she smiles, walking up to him and wrapping her arms around his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he replies, his nose landing in her neck like it always does, making her giggle a little as his mustache tickles at her.

“What do you want for dinner, darling?”

“Oh, right!” He says, suddenly remembering his little secret. “I'm taking you out. Reservation is at 8.30, so you've got time for a short nap before we need to get ready, okay?”

“Okay…” Olive says, a grin spanning from ear to ear. She takes his hand, her thumb stroking over his palm gently. “Will you come snuggle?”

“Honey, if I ever say no to that…”

—

She wakes a little while later to her husband kissing her neck gently to rouse her. She purrs as he carries on, his hands slowly stroking and tickling her bare back.

“Come on, honey. We gotta wake up.”

“But I'm so cozy,” she protests, turning over and snuggling into him.

“Oh, you're adorable, Ollie,” he coos, letting her cuddle in for just a few more minutes before pulling away, kissing her temple. “Come on, I wanna take you out. Cheer you up after your bad day, hm?”

“Okay,” she sighs. “It'll be a good way to distract myself away from the thoughts of Monday creeping closer, I guess.”

“Tell me what happened, sugar.”

“Ugh, this horrible woman. She wanted to return a hat that she said she no longer wanted. Okay, I said, no problem. May I have your receipt?”

“And?” Dougie probes, gently running his fingers through Olive’s dark hair, staring into her big brown eyes as she tells her tale.

“She hands me it, tutting. Fucking tutting at me as if I'm inconveniencing her. So, I look it over…hm, that's nice, honey…” she trails off, snuggling back into Dougie once again.

“Sorry, sorry. You look it over?”

“Hmm…” she sighs. “Yes, and the item is three days over the return deadline. So, I say, ma'am, store policy dictates thirty days from purchase to make a return, and you're at day thirty-three. I'm happy to exchange it for you. Lord, she hit the roof. Yelling at me, calling me rude, useless, what have you. I ended up having to call for someone upstairs to explain it to her, because she would not listen to me, nor would she quit yelling. It was humiliating, honestly.”

“Ollie, that's horrible. You shouldn't have to deal with that!”

“I could absolutely see myself going Valencia Blakely on her rude self. Fighting that temptation was hard.”

“We have money for bail, it's fine. I'd come rescue you.”

“You would?”

“Oh, always, honey. I'm always on your side.” He pauses for a second, having Olive lay on his shoulder. “You could just quit, and stay home, huh?”

“No!” she says. “I like the independence. I like being able to contribute, even if it's only a little.”

“I've got it!” he replies, the pair of them bullheaded as ever. “I promised to look after you. Let me?”

“B-but…”

“You'd still be independent. Are you telling me you'd rather go to work in that stuffy, old department store over sitting in the backyard, reading a book and sipping coffee?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” she shrugs, the stubbornness wearing off.

“Exactly. You've been so tired, Ol. Let me take care of you. Please?”

“Oh, my sweet husband. If you're sure?”

“Without a doubt,” he says softly, kissing her for a few moments. “Now, come on, sweetheart. I don't wanna be late.”

“Late for what?”

“You'll see.”

—

“Dougie!” Olive protests, him covering her eyes as he leads her through what feels like a long corridor. He had instructed her to close her eyes the moment they'd turned the corner on to Main Street, him covering her eyes with both of his hands as he'd helped her out of the car.

“Is this really necessary?” she'd asked, hands out in front of her to feel for anything she may bump into.

“Yes!” he had giggled, making sure her eyes really were shut before opening a door for her. “I've got you, sugar. Trust me.”

The smell of sweet popcorn lingers in her nostrils as another door opens, Olive giggling to herself that she's figured out the location by smell alone.

“Okay, we're at the movies. Got that part. Can I open my eyes yet?”

“Nope,” he says matter of factly, leading her to a seat. “Not until it starts.”

“James Douglass, you are–”

“Insufferable, I know. And yet, you love me.”

“I sure do, sweetheart. But I am impatient and this is doing nothing for my nervous system.”

He laughs, grabbing her hand and kissing it. Olive feels his smile on her hand and smiles back, knowing how silly that must look with her eyes closed. She feels the room growing darker, her vision now pitch black.

“Okay,” he breathes, clutching her hand a little tighter. “Now you can open them.”

“Finally,” she whispers, eyes focused on the large screen in front of them as she hears the projector click on. A sepia tone blasts on to the screen, with the familiar overture that Olive spent countless days listening to over and over, followed by the title: The Wizard of Oz.

“James!” she cries, leaning over to hold him. She stares at him open mouthed, back to the screen and then back to him, not sure where to look.

“You told me it was your favorite, right after I came back from Bremen. Do you remember that?”

“Y-yes,” she stammers out, her eyes filling with tears. “I do…”

—

“I just wanna know everything about you,” Dougie had whispered as they laid in Olive’s small bunk together, the morning sun leaking in through the thin curtains of the Red Cross hut. “Everything.”

“I wouldn't know where to start,” Olive laughed, closing her eyes as he ran his fingers through her hair. “It's a lot.”

“Well,” he sighed. “Let's start with the basic stuff. Favorite food?”

“Italian. A good penne alla vodka can cure any bad mood.”

“Ah, explains why you instantly stuck to Val and Benny. You want the recipes from the source!”

“Too right,” she giggles, nuzzling into him. “What about you?”

“Whatever my mom cooks. It's always so homey, warm…” he trails off, his eyes closing as he breathes in deeply. “Sorry,” he says, shaking his head.

“What for?” Olive asks, her hand on his face. “You're missing home, that's perfectly normal.”

“I think I'm missing it more now because I just can't wait to take you there. When all this is over, you're coming home with me, right?”

“Right,” she repeats, nodding. “Hm, favorite movie?” she asks, going back to the original subject.

“I really liked His Girl Friday.”

“Oh, me too!” Olive squeals in reply. “One of Pearl's favorites too. She had it bad for Cary Grant. Who wouldn't?”

He grins. “What's yours?”

“The Wizard of Oz,” comes her reply, a wistful edge to it. “I'd watch it every Christmas, when it was broadcast on television. I've always loved it, even as a child. It didn't really scare me like it scared other kids, it just made me cry when she had to leave her friends behind and go back home.”

“Too late to see it in theaters, huh?” He jokes.

“Oh, only by a good eighty-two years,” she laughs. “I'd love to see it on the big screen though. One day, perhaps…”

—

“I read about this in the paper this morning. They're showing the movie again for its–”

“Tenth anniversary,” Olive interjects, nodding. “I can't believe you remembered. It's been years since we talked about it.”

“So, a good surprise?”

“The best,” she sniffs. “Thank you, honey. I never thought I'd get to see it like this. It's beautiful.”

“You're beautiful,” he replies, taking her hand again. “Gonna need you to look after me though.”

“Why?” she titters, sitting back.

“The witch lady scares me.”

“It's okay,” she whispers to him, giggling a little. “I'm right here.”

—

Pulling into the driveway, Dougie switches off the engine with a contented sigh. He looks over at his wife, his expression softening as she smiles at him.

“What?” he asks her, smiling back. His eyes adorably crinkle, as does his nose.

“Tonight was perfect. Thank you,” she says, reaching over to kiss him.

“Well, it's not over yet. We still have dessert in the house.”

“What?”

“Mom stopped by with apple pie.”

“Oh, my favorite!”

“I know. I may have mentioned that you were upset and tired with work and–”

“And I've told her that her apple pie fixes everything,” Olive says happily.

“Exactly,” he replies, getting out of the car. He walks over to Olive’s side and opens the door for her, holding his hand out. “Come on, honey.”

As they enter the house, Olive heads straight for the icebox.

“Ice cream or cool whip?”

“You choose,” he smiles, pulling plates from the cabinet. She takes out the cool whip, handing it to her husband while she retrieves utensils from the drawer. As she places them down on the table that her husband and Ev had so carefully made together, she feels Dougie next to her.

“Hey,” he says, a cheeky tone to his voice. “Let me see you.”

She turns her head at the exact moment he daubes cool whip on her nose, her gasping in surprise. He laughs, before pulling her close and licking it off quickly. She squeals, him tickling at her waist as they both laugh uproariously.

“You're a menace,” she says, the last few gasps of laughter leaving her. She wraps her arms around his neck and lets her head fall to his shoulder, him taking her hand and suddenly starting to sway. “What are you doing?”

“Dancing with my girl. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she replies with a little laugh. “But there's no music.”

“Who needs music, huh?”

They stay like that for a while, gently swaying in the kitchen while the pie sits forgotten about. As their noses touch, they kiss one another softly and both sigh happily.

“Love you, Mrs Douglass.”

“Love you more, Mr Douglass.”

“Not possible.”

taglist: @ginabaker1666 @sagesolsticewrites @lestweforget5 @butterfly9012

#my sweet babies are BACK!!! <3 #honeysuckle rose #oc: olive lewis #james douglass #james douglass x oc #Olive & Dougie #masters of the air fic #mota fic #masters of the air #mota #post war #rosie rosenthal #harry crosby #everett blakely #oc: valencia dirosano #winnie writes

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