#oc: valencia dirosano

[blakelysco-pilot]

The Way I Am

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

Everett Blakely x Valencia DiRosano (OC)

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

Part Two Follow along with the Eight To The Bar Playlist

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

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

“You running the show alone today?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? How much then, Miss Val?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You have my word.” He nodded. 

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

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

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

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

“Jeez, Val, don’t look so busy!”

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

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

“I’m here and not home so, yea.”

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

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

“Valencia…”

“Chicky…”

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

“Okay, whatever you say, Chicky.”

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

“Valencia…” Harding warned. 

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

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

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

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

“No, he did not get near them.”

“Good, I’ll take one then.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jack? Coffee?”

“Sure, Val, thanks.”

“Remind me again…”

“Just black.”

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

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

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

“That’s the plan.” 

“Good, those boys are working hard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” 

“Did you see what tail number it was?”

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

“Get in the Jeep, come on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuck sake! That was them?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh honey, I know…”

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

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

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

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

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

“Meatball! No!!” 

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

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

——————————————————————————————————

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

“Can I walk ya to the club, Val?”

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

“Honest to God, just wanna walk ya.”

“Curt?”

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

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

“Olive, I’ll catch up.”

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

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

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

“Curt, I’m alright. Honest…”

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

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

“Oh sure, yea I’m just fine.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

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

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

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

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

“B’Sides… if anything happens-“

“Curt…”

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

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

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

“How can you put that on me, huh?”

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

“Fine! I promise, okay?” 

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

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

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

“You’re unbelievable.” 

“Nah, I’m very believable.” 

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

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

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

“Ladies room.”

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

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

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

“I was starting to wonder where you were.” 

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

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

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

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

“You okay sweetheart?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well then, I’ll be back with those.”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

“What for?”

“You know what for.” She grinned. 

“Well, in that case, you’re welcome.”

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

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

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

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

“I was just-“

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

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

“Oh uh…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You lot up for a group shot?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thanks Joe!”

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

“Humor a poor sap with a dance?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You think so?”

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

“Love, huh? That’s a big admission.” 

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

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

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

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

“That’s what’s bothering you…”

“Nothing's bothering me.”

“Please, don’t lie to me…” 

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

“Of course honey. Come on.”

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

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

“You heard about Baynard.” He guessed. 

“Tattie and I saw it happen.”

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

“Jesus…”

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

“Honey…”

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

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

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

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

“Can I ask you something?”

“Anything honey.”

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

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

“Everett, no…no don’t say that.”

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

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

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

“You weren’t supposed to see me cry.”

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

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

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

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

Part Four

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

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

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 4

part one part two part three

masterlist

mood board by @hephaestn

taglist: @ginabaker1666 @sagesolsticewrites @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @bloodynereid

Her head leaning on her hand, her elbow on the table, Olive feels Valencia glance across at her. She has seen her eyes softening as James talks, unaware that her mouth is slightly agape. A sharp kick under the table snaps Olive out of her trance, Val shaking her head and smiling, those gorgeous red lips parting and showing her perfect teeth as she makes eye contact. “Breathe, Ollie,” she teases, as the boys engage in a conversation about something or another. 

“Sorry,” Olive mumbles, awkwardly sipping her drink. “I'm not usually like this.”

“Maybe it's the booze?”

“Oh, probably. Yep, that's it. Not the most handsome man I've ever seen taking interest in me. Not that at all.”

“The most handsome, huh? Jesus, don't let him hear you say that.”

“Why not?” Olive giggles.

“He'll never fit his head through that door ever again. Not to mention us never hearing the end of it.”

“You girls wanna take a couple laps in the Jeep? Watch the sunrise?” Dougie asks, looking pointedly at Olive. 

“We're all far too drunk to drive, Doug, and I ain't walking all that way,” he pauses for a moment, feeling Val's eyes focus on him. “Only walking my girl home.” The classic furrow softens immediately. 

“That's what I thought, Everett. Good answer.” 

“What do you say, Olive? Wanna take a walk with me?”

“Sure,” she replies, nervously. She glances over at Val, who nods towards her as Ev helps her with her jacket. 

“Olive, see you tomorrow. Can you get here in time?”

“Oh, I'm sure I can,” a panic rising in her chest, hoping that somehow she was able to get back. Whether any time had passed between the two worlds, she had no idea and was terribly nervous to find out. Alas, she had to get home and check on Pearl, relieving Joan of her duties. But a few more moments with Dougie seemed so incredibly tempting that she felt herself taking his open hand and rushing out the door with him into the cold, morning air. 

“You don’t have a jacket?” He asks as he sees her shiver the second the warm club is behind them.

“Didn't plan on staying this long, actually.” 

He laughs a little, pulling off his own jacket. “Here,” he says, wrapping it around her shoulders. He pulls the sleeve up as she puts her arm in, her brow furrowed in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“Wanna hold your hand.” 

His hand slips into hers and they begin to head towards the hardstand. Olive, pontificating how to make a quick exit without seeming rude, is distracted from her thoughts by an orange ember coming towards her face. Holding a lit cigarette in front of her, she knows he expects her to take it in between her own fingers. Instead, she drags on it from where he holds it, not once breaking eye contact and his mouth drops open.

“So, uh,” he clears his throat, moving the cigarette back to his own mouth as soon as she has blown smoke from her lips. “Where did you grow up?”

“Here,” she smiles. “I just moved back from London.”

“London? Wow, why?”

“Oh, errm,” she stutters, trying to formulate a story that has little substance but is not a lie. “I, uh…lots of things. I had a few things not work out. My grandma took a fall just over a year ago and she needs a carer. I decided to come home and take over.”

“That's real nice of you, Ol. I'm sure she's grateful.”

“I'm sure, too. She'll never say it, she's a grumpy old girl. But, I love her. She's my pal. Taught me how to be tough and I'm thankful for that.”

“Tough, huh?”

“Mhm,” she nods, realizing they are almost at the aircraft she fell from this afternoon. “What about you?”

“Lansing, Michigan. You probably haven't–”

“Never heard of it,” they overlap, Olive giggling and instantly going to cover her mouth with her free hand. 

“Hey, no. You gotta stop that.”

“Why, Dougie?”

“Because you have a pretty smile. And you shouldn't hide it, especially when it's me making you do the smiling, huh?”

A moment of silence passes between them as they reach the wing of Just A-Snappin, coming to a stop. His hand on her cheek, hers on his back. “Tell me more about Michigan,” she murmurs, their noses almost touching.

“It's real pretty,” he replies, his hand going from her cheek to her hair to move a strand that's blown in her face. “Real pretty in the fall especially.” He sighs, his thumb gently stroking her mouth. “I'll take you one day.”

“I'd love that,” she replies, moving closer. Just as their lips are about to meet, a loud, shrill horn noise is heard over the tannoy, followed by a thick accent. 

“James Douglass,” it commands. “Put that girl down and get to bed!” 

“Dammit, Red,” he mumbles, turning away for a second and squinting up at the tower. “I swear he has eyes in his ass, that guy.”

“Is this goodnight?” she asks, handing the jacket back.

“It is. I'm sorry. I wanted to walk ya home but–”

“Look,” she says, kissing him gently on the cheek. “The sun is rising.”

For a moment, he holds her close to him before breaking away, kissing her softly on the cheek, too. 

“Goodnight, Olive,” he says, beginning to walk backwards towards his destination.

“Goodnight, Dougie.” 

The second his back is turned, Olive begins to run in a full sprint towards the Red Cross Hut to retrieve her clothes. To her relief, Helen is snoring softly in the soft light of the sunrise, Val nowhere to be found. Assuming she's still with Ev somewhere around, she delicately places the dress upon her bunk, pushing out any wrinkles and creases with her hands. Pulling her shirt, overalls and boots back on, stuffing the headscarf in her top pocket, she makes a hasty exit, extremely careful to not disturb Helen. She sighs softly and turns over, causing Olive to freeze as she tiptoes towards the door. Luckily, she remains asleep, the rapid movement not waking her once. 

Returning to the plane and making sure there are no eyes on her, Olive runs around to the hatch she stumbled out of earlier. Seeing it left open, she hesitates, trying to reason with herself to stay. Thoughts of how devastated Pearl would be creep into her mind, cementing the decision. With a sigh, she climbs in, somehow finding long forgotten core strength. She reaches down and shuts the door with a slam, waiting a few moments. Closing her eyes, she waits, the blazing afternoon sun coming through the windows causing her body to overheat instantly.

Sadness crawling all over her, she kicks the hatch open again, her body suddenly heavy. Jumping out much more gracefully this time, she lands heavily in her boots, the scene around her seemingly unchanged. The group of girls she had originally been with were back in their usual spot, Olive now traipsing over to them casually, trying not to be seen. Heather greets her with a smile, her absence apparently unnoticed. 

“Taking a look at the plane?” She asks before the final crowd of school kids of the day make their way around the circuit. 

“Something like that,” she titters, grabbing a rake. “What time is it?”

Heather raises an eyebrow as she looks at her watch, trying to gauge the time as the warm sun reflects the watch face. “Errrm, it's two pm.”

“Oh!” Olive says, surprised. Seemingly no time had passed at all. 

—

“Hiya, Pearly Girly,” she greets, walking into the house. Kicking her boots off by the door, Olive begins to walk into the kitchen, reaching into the beige fridge to quickly gulp milk straight from the glass bottle that was delivered this morning.

“Hey, you,” Pearl greets, hobbling in with her stick. “Get a glass, for goodness sake!”

“I only wanted a gulp,” Olive laughs, now seeing that she'd somehow chugged half the bottle. 

“Some things never change, do they? You've been doing that since you were wee.”

“Old habits die hard, Grandma. Where's Joan? Am I late?”

“No, doll,” Pearl says, shaking her head. “She's out in the garden. Funeral director called.”

“Ah, shit,” Olive replies, peeking out of the window that's shrouded by a worn net curtain. She sees Joan pacing up and down the garden path, arms crossed and face growing more furrowed each second. “I'll make her a cuppa. You want one too?”

“If there's any bloody milk left,” she teases, leaving the kitchen. Olive titters and shakes her head as her back turns, clicking the kettle on. 

—

Pearl and Olive sit opposite one another, sipping from their mugs despite the boiling hot weather outside. 

“So, good first day? How did you like it?”

“Oh, I loved it,” Olive replies, a huge smile on her face. “I met some really nice people. Red Cross girls, took me under their wing and–” Olive pauses, realizing what she has said, seeing Pearl’s confused face. It settles in an instant, the ringing in Olive's ears subsiding as she sees her face return to normal.

“I used to love their jumpsuits. The headscarves they'd wear through the day while their hair was setting for a night at the club. I was always envious. There I was, sweating, beetroot red with a rake and overalls, while they were there looking all glamorous, handing out coffee and donuts to these handsome men. I would've traded places in an instant.”

Olive giggles. “I don't blame you, Pearly. I bet they were all beautiful.”

“They were,” she says, wistfully. “There was one man that caught my eye right before we moved. I never got his name, nor did we ever speak but you bet your bottom I was sat watching his every move whenever I could. He always had this dog with him–”

Olive, taking a sip of tea, inhales at the wrong moment and chokes as she hears Pearl’s words. “Jesus, Olive,” she laughs, trying her best to throw a napkin her way. “Wrong pipe?”

“Oh, yeah,” she replies, coughing a few more times. “Something like that.” It couldn't be the same dog, the same man. Surely not? Shaking her head through the shock, Olive trying to make sense of everything that's happened in the past few hours, Joan enters the room looking a little less stressed than the last times Olive has seen her. 

“Hi, Olive,” she smiles. 

“Joan,” she greets. “How are you?”

“Oh, better now I've got that sorted. Funeral home wanted to go through the order of service, and wanted to know how long my grandson's speech was going to be. You know our Kyle can talk.” Joan looks at Olive, her lips pursed slightly. “You remember Kyle, Olive?”

“Oh, er, yeah. I sure do.” How could she forget? Seeing him on the train while on her way home had brought up so much disdain that she'd felt nauseous for hours afterwards. Kyle, the first and only guy she'd let break her heart, and she'd let him do it because he somehow broke through all the toughness Pearl had taught her - and used it to his advantage.

“I do wish you two had worked out–”

“I wish he'd have been able to control himself and not sleep with my best friend.” 

“Olive!” Pearl scolds. Standing up, Olive announces her leave.

“I need to shower. Nice to see you, as always, Joan. See you tomorrow.”

—

Olive sits on her bed, wrapped in a towel and tries to breathe slowly. Laying down on the bed, her wet hair soaking into the pillow case, she closes her eyes and begins to try and ‘center herself,’ an exercise she'd been taught in Movement Class at drama school. Feeling her lungs inflate and holding her breath for just a moment, Olive hears a small knock on her door. 

“Ollie Pop?” Pearl calls, her voice etched with concern. “You alright?”

Breathing out slowly, Olive sits up. “Come in, Grandma.” As she does so, she puffs heavily and sits on the bed beside her. 

“I like our Joan, but her grandson is a twat.”

“Granny!” Olive shrieks. 

“What? You know if I curse, it's serious. He is. A stupid one at that.”

“Yeah,” she replies, sighing. “Besides,” she pauses, the panic attack pushed aside. “I'm a tough girl. Just like my Grandma.”

—

Laying in the softly lit room as the sun rises, Olive tries her best to read by the glowing lamplight emanating from her bedside table. The words scattering on the page, blurring into one another, she snaps it shut and sits up quickly as her alarm clock beeps, not wasting a single moment. Despite a night of minimal sleep, Olive gets ready in a flash, trying her best to remain as quiet as possible to not disturb Pearl who she can hear snoring from her room. Opening the door with a small creak, Olive smiles sweetly as her beloved Grandma sleeps peacefully, pictures of her husband on display on the table directly next to the bed. Closing the door quietly, Olive goes to the kitchen and boils the kettle for her morning green tea, waiting for Joan to come take over. Despite Olive figuring out that only a little time passes between worlds, she does not want to risk Pearl ever being left alone. Sipping at the hot liquid, she watches the sunrise through the garden window. Closing her eyes and breathing deeply, her mind goes back to the previous sunrise she saw, under the wing of a plane with Dougie. 

Finishing her tea, Olive quickly runs back to her room to collect her dog-eared copies of A Midsummer Night's Dream and The Tempest, hoping to find time for some light reading throughout the day. Joan arrives soon after, instantly apologizing for yesterday as she walks through the door, eyes wide with anxiety. 

“Joan,” Olive says, waving her apology away. “Not you that should be apologizing really. You're fine. It's fine and we're fine.”

“Phew, good. Our Pearl awake yet?” Olive shakes her head.

“Not yet. She seemed to fall asleep pretty quickly last night, too.”

“She's a lot more relaxed now you're here, Ol. She knows you're safe and I think that pleases her.”

“I'm glad to be here,” she pauses, smiling awkwardly. “Right, off to work!” 

“Do you need something for lunch?”

“No, thanks,” she smiles, quickly adjusting her headscarf. “I'll grab a donut.”

—

Practically skipping to the airplane, she takes a quick look around to make sure nobody has eyes on her. Only a few early morning museum visitors are around, going into the building itself, trying to keep out of the cool morning air. Satisfied that nobody can see her, she clambers into the plane, body flopping into the aircraft like a hard loaf of bread. 

“I gotta get better at this,” she murmurs to herself, wincing as her core tightens. Leaning down, she slams the door shut and waits. A dog barks in the distance, her eyes clamped shut in fervent hope. She opens her eyes and gently fiddles with the door, her head sticking out slightly. Waiting on the ground is Meatball, tail wagging the second he sees Olive. 

“Hi, buddy,” Olive squeaks when she lands on the floor, a lot more graceful than yesterday's breathtaking bump. “Good morning!” Taking him by the leash, she retrieves her bag and begins to walk to the Clubmobile. 

“Hey!” She hears as her back is turned. “Who said you could take my dog?” There's Benny, a playful smile on his face that Olive instantly reciprocates.

“He did, actually. Waiting right there to greet me.” 

He laughs, leaning down to stroke the dog. “He just was excited to see his new best friend.”

“And so was I,” she replies, handing the leash to him. “I'd better run. Can't be late for my first day!”

—

“Aaah! You're here!” Val squeals, squeezing Olive into a quick embrace. “Come on,” she says, taking her by the hand and leading her to the hut. “Tat got a uniform for you, Lord knows where from but I gave her my measurements and what do you know, there was one spare, exactly your–our size.” 

Hanging on the small locker next to a bunk, is a blue jumpsuit, emblazoned with the American Red Cross logo on one pocket.

“Here's your space,” Val says, gesturing towards the locker. “We have our own showers so we keep most of our stuff in there, toiletries, make up, what have you. We usually use this for trinkets, but decorate how you see fit, doll.” 

Placing her satchel on the bed, Olive removes her clothes and slips into the jumpsuit, it fitting her like a glove. She stuffs The Tempest into one of the huge pockets while Val takes in her new look.

“Oh!” Val gasps, hands on her cheeks. “Don't you look adorable! Wait til Dougie sees you!” Rolling her eyes, Olive looks in the mirror one final time before heading to the door of the hut, Val close behind.

“Helen is already there,” she says, linking her arm with Olive's. “We'd better get there before she's rushed off her feet! Most of the boys are on the ground today, but they'll still be wanting coffee and donuts from us.”

“Makes sense,” Olive responds, waving to Tattie as she zooms past in her Jeep. She waves back, a smile on her face, the wind of the cool morning blowing through her perfectly styled hair.

“Tattie gets a Jeep?” Olive enquires, hoping there's no tone of malice within her question.

“Oh, yeah,” Val says, nodding. “She's the head honcho. She's General Spaatz's daughter, after all.”

“I dunno who that is, Val. Enlighten me.”

“In simple terms? Commander of the Eighth. That's all I know, to be honest. Don't make me go further than that, because I simply couldn't tell you.” She grins, flashing those beautiful teeth. “I'm so glad you came.”

“Me, too.”

—

“Olive! You're here!” Helen shouts through the hatch of the Clubmobile. Climbing down the stairs, she greets her new friend with a hug. Not used to this much affection all at once, Olive basks in it, feeling her face glow.

“Morning, Helen. Thanks for fixing up the bed.”

“You're so welcome, Ol. Nobody will be itching in our house! Not on my watch.”

“You'd think that should be the nurse's job, but here we are.” Val says, her tone scathing as she leans on the counter, flicking through a new copy of Screen Romances, Laraine Day and Robert Young upon the cover, cheeks pressed together. 

“Oh, I love Screen Romances,” Olive pipes up as Val reads through, that famous furrow brought out in concentration. “The gossip columns are savage.” 

“Oh, they so are,” Val responds, looking up, her eyes rolling slightly. “I live for it. I love the cattiness, the scathing remarks. Ugh, wonderful. I'll let you know if anything juicy comes up,” she says, nodding towards the hatch. “Someone's here to see you.”

“Donut from the prettiest girl in East Anglia, please.”

“Hey, Dougie,” she blushes, leaning out of the truck slightly.

“Look at you,” he says, biting his lip a little. “Blue really is your color.” 

“Oh, stop,” she replies, cheeks glowing even redder. “You're just angling for an extra donut.”

“Maybe,” he says, leaning up to meet her in the hatch. “And a kiss.” 

“Well, handsome, I can only give you one of those things right now,” she says, a donut in hand. “Meatball hair free, too. Must be your lucky day.”

“It sure is. Can I get a coffee too? Just cream.”

“Coming right up. No sugar?”

��Not when you're around. I'm sweet enough on you.”

“Are you trying to make me keel over?” She scolds, pouring the coffee into the cup. Brow furrowed, she hands him the cup, followed by a quick smile.

“Jeez, too much time with Valencia already. You've got that furrow perfected.”

“Maybe it was always within her, James,” she shouts, head still buried in the magazine. “Little help from me, and you being insufferable brings the best furrows out in people.” Olive shakes her head, giggling at the banter between the two. 

“Will you be at the club later?” Dougie asks, sipping the coffee. 

“I assume so,” Olive shrugs. “Why?”

“Oh, no reason,” he teases, winking as he walks away. 

“She's right,” Olive shouts from the Clubmobile. “You are insufferable.”

—

Both Dougie and Benny turn the second Olive enters the club, linked arm in arm with Val and Helen who stand either side of her. She meets the eyes of either man in turn, feeling her cheeks glow with that familiar heat the second she makes eye contact with Dougie. 

“I saw that,” Helen teases as they sit down, the same table as the previous evening. “You smiled when you saw Benny…”

“Helen–” Olive cuts her off, her cheeks now red with embarrassment instead of the previous limerence.

“But I saw that twinkle in your eye when Dougie looked at you.” 

Val nods enthusiastically, lighting a cigarette before offering one to her companions. Her attention on them is taken away the moment Everett walks up to the table, her eyes glowing as he greets her with a kiss on the cheek. 

Olive feels a presence behind her, before a glass - an Old Fashioned - is put at her place on the table. She turns to see Dougie, standing behind her chair with a whiskey in his hand. 

“Thanks,” she says, demurely, hoping that the blushing is now at bay.

“You owe me a dance later,” he says, winking as he walks back to the bar before she can even muster an answer. 

“Does he always do that?” she asks, turning to Val and Ev. “Ask a question then piss off to the other end of the room?” The couple and Helen burst out laughing at her tone, still not quite used to Olive's dry British humor. Not able to contain her own laughter due to theirs, she tries to pull herself together to reiterate the question. Ev is the first to compose himself, Val dabbing at his eyes with her handkerchief as he gasps for air a final time. 

“Nah, not always,” he finally says, looking for his friend at the bar. “He's just nervous, I think.” 

—

Feeling a wet nose at her bare ankle, Olive squeals and finds Meatball under the table. 

“Aaah, hi buddy!” she says, placing her drink on the table and beginning to pet him. “Were you good today? We missed you!”

“Speak for yourself,” Val mumbles under her breath as she reapplies her lipstick , only loud enough for Olive to hear,  causing her to shoot her a glance and giggle. Making sure Benny didn't hear, she smiles up at him. 

“Hi, Benny. How was your day?”

“Better now for seeing you. Let me get this fella squared away. D'you wanna dance?”

“Love to,” she grins, placing her jacket on her chair. Val winks at her as she exits, clutching Benny's arm as he gives the dog to Buck and a few men around him before leading her to the dancefloor.

“I'm warning you, Benny,” she begins as they begin to sway together. “I'm not much of a dancer. I hope you enjoyed having toes.”

“I'm just as bad, don't worry. Just wanted a moment alone with you.”

“That's sweet,” she replies, smiling as she places a hand on his shoulder. 

“So, how was your first day?”

“Oh, it was wonderful, thanks.” And she means it. It's the most fulfilled she's felt in years, these new people welcoming her and taking her under their wing. Everything that went wrong in London feels like a million light-years away; and being here, maybe it is. Benny narrows his eyes at her answer, trying to gauge any hint of sarcasm he may have missed. She shoves him playfully as they dance, giggling a little. “I'm being serious, Benny. It's exactly what I need.”

“If you say so,” he replies, smiling as he spins her away from him. With that spin, she crashes into none other than James Douglass, who automatically takes her in his arms. 

“Dog needs taking out, Benny,” he teases, gripping Olive's hand. He quickly spins her to a new spot on the dancefloor and grins. “Told ya, you owed me a dance.”

“I didn't hear you asking, James,” she teases, feeling her cheeks flush as his hand lands on the small of her back. “It was more of a statement.”

“Right, right,” he says, breaking away. “Will you dance with me?” 

“Yes, I will. But you'd better apologize to Demarco when he gets back.”

“Oh, I'm not sorry for anything, doll.” She tuts at him, letting him lead her nonetheless. Him touching her feels like lighting coursing through her veins, feeling her hair stand up on end. He moves closer as the band slows, their noses almost beginning to touch as they move in unison to the swelling music. Her inhale becoming his exhale, she moves and plants a soft kiss on his neck. She feels him gasp into her ear and it's enough to make her weak at the knees. Looking over his shoulder, she sees a light begin to flash red above the door.

“Hey,” she murmurs, gesturing towards the light with a movement of her head. “Does that mean something?” He turns and looks, his eyes suddenly downcast as he sighs.  

“Ah, shit. Yeah.” 

“I'll walk ya home,” Benny pipes up, suddenly behind them. 

“Nah, I got it, Benny,” James replies, taking his grip off Olive.

“No,” Benny says, a little sternly. “I'll do it. Olive, you ready?”

“It's fine, I can–” she tries to say, but is once again cut off by incessant squabbling, the two men fighting like catty school children. Looking towards Val for help, Olive sees Everett talking to a man with big brown eyes, hair slicked back into a soft pomp, his body seemingly racked with anxiety. Everett and Val gently push him in Olive's direction, him ushering her away unnoticed.

“Thanks,” she sighs, staring into the pretty cow eyes of the man that rescued her. 

“No problem. Harry Crosby,” he says, gesturing to himself, a hand on his chest as he introduces himself. 

“Hey, Harry. Olive.” He stretches a hand out and she shakes it.

“I heard the commotion. I'm heading back to write to my wife. She would never let me live it down if I wasn't a gentleman to others. I'll walk ya home, Olive.”

“Oh, Harry. That's so kind. Thank you.” 

As he holds the door open for her, she hears the arguing come to a sudden stop followed by a surprised “Crosby?!” and Val storming up to them. “Stupid boys,” is all she hears as she exits the club with Harry, her arm linked platonically with his. 

[sagesolsticewrites]

Meet Ruthvika “Ruthie” Patel 🪔

Name: Ruthvika Patel

Age: 26

Birthplace: Harlem, Manhattan

Home: Lynbrook, New York

Star Sign: Virgo

Born to immigrant parents from India, Ruthvika Patel— Ruthie to… well, pretty much everyone with a (ahem) lighter complexion—  is doing her best to find happiness in a life stuck working to keep her parents’ hotel afloat. Her one solace is coming back in contact with her old school friend, Juliet Thompson. And when Juliet invites her along to a celebration of her engagement to one John Brady, who is she to refuse?

A certain husky barreling into her legs as she wanders the streets of New York, utterly lost, leads to a chance encounter with pilot Bernard “Benny” DeMarco. Swept off her feet by his charm and kindness, quiet Ruthie is lovingly tugged along into her friend’s little family, and she has… absolutely no idea what to do.

A fairly sheltered life has left her unprepared for the friendships she finds in the girls— her new friends Olive, Val, Jo, and Jean all seem eager to fit her into their little gang, though with her accent and noticeably caramel complexion, fitting in in 1940’s New York has never been her strong suit. And she has even less of a clue how to handle the attentions of a certain pilot; how does she know that the fluttering in her chest isn’t how all girls feel around a good male friend? It’s not as if she has any experience in that area. And even if she could admit her feelings to herself, she has no guarantee he feels the same. The true obstacle, though, are her parents: traditional, conservative, Gujarati, the Patels will have no part of a white man attempting to court their good Indian daughter.

In stepping out from the shadows of her quiet life, Ruthie is pulled along into the sunshine with her new friends, with a guarantee that no matter what happens, her little life will never be the same.

Part 1 of Ruthie’s story is coming soon! 👀

@winniemaywebber @ginabaker1666

[giiiinabaker]

Thinking about all of the absolutely unhinged shit Curt says to Val over the course of their friendship and how Blakely has just come to accept it.

[blakelysco-pilot]

Book Club gals doing book club things!

Come on by and meet the ladies of the men of the 100th BG.

Meet Josephine Harris

Meet Valencia DiRosano

Come on down to sagesolsticewrites for a proper introduction to my darling OCs! A labor of love with my besties (@winniemaywebber @ginabaker1666) I’ve loved creating this little universe with them 🥰 make sure to check out their girlies’ bios as well to meet the entire Book Club gang!

Juliet’s intro 🤍

Ruthie’s intro 🪔

[blakelysco-pilot]

Over the Threshold

A post-war interlude in the Eight To the Bar series.

When Valencia had written home in August 1943, she wasn’t sure how her mother would react to the news that she had met someone. She’d been through it before; once, where she had gushed over a wonderful man that had only ended up hurting her, only after she’d given all of herself to him. When she had spent hours crying on Curt’s shoulder, never fully divulging to her mother what had happened. Only that, her wonderful man had found someone else.

Her mothers first letter had been what she expected. Skepticism and worry for her daughter; so far away and falling in love on a whim with a pilot. But as time wore on, and Everett remained part of her letters her mother seemed to warm up to the idea of him. It was a letter in March of 1945 that had surprised her- the parlor floor in her childhood home, a gift for them both, should they choose to start their life in New York after the war.

A building that her father had saved to purchase when they immigrated from Sicily, and that her mother had kept pristine after his death. She’d collected rent from tenants for years, and to know that her mother was giving up the rent on that floor for her and Everett, well, that meant something. Everett was excited at the prospect, writing to his own mother back in Seattle to invite her to meet him in New York, to meet Val, whenever the time came. But he knew his sweethearts family relied on that rent, so he made a promise to his mother in law that they would continue to pay rent until they found a place of their own.

So, they had stayed, and lived in the DiRosano home while they worked on their own fixer upper. It had taken them six months into their marriage, plus the eight months prior, to get their forever home ready. Not going far from her mother in Bensonhurst, they were making the ten minute move to Dyker Heights.

Now, the day was upon them, and he wasn’t surprised to find her sitting in the bay window in their now vacant parlor floor apartment, knees tucked up to her chest as she watched the leaves fall over Bath Avenue.

“Honey?”

“Hmm…”

“Val, all that’s left is, well, us.”

“Okay…”

That’s when he saw the tears in her eyes. He rarely ever saw her cry; there had been only four occasions; when Curt went down, VE Day, when he proposed, and the day they got married. He could count it all on one hand.

“Oh, sweetheart, are you okay?”

“I’m being silly,” She furiously wiped her eyes. “It’s not like the house is going anywhere. Mama and this place are staying put.”

“It’s okay to feel sad,” Coming to sit behind her, he pulled her back against his chest. “You lived your whole life here. We started our life here.”

“You’re right…”

“Of course I’m right. Now come on, I want to carry you over the threshold of our house.”

“Charmer,” She scoffed. “How many thresholds have you carried me over now?”

“Hmmm, this will make three,” He murmured, pressing his lips to the underside of her jaw. “The hotel in Palm Beach on our honeymoon, this place, and now…”

“Hmm, I see your point. Lots of new rooms to christen, too, Mr. Blakely.”

“Exactly,” He grinned against her cheek. “What do you say? Ready for the next adventure Mrs. Blakely?”

Turning from her spot, she wrapped her arms around him, carding her fingers through his already mused hair, the curl that fell over his forehead landing right back in place. Everett pulled her into his lap with practiced ease, holding her close as she took her time letting her hands explore him as they had done countless times before. Nosing against him, her eyes fluttered closed as she inhaled his scent, the cologne he had put on after his shower that morning now mixed with the scent of a hard day's work. She had never loved a single scent more than that of her husband.

“Take me home,” She whispered, teeth closing over his earlobe, tugging gently. “But first, one more for the road.”

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[blakelysco-pilot]

As Long as You Follow

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

Everett Blakely x Valencia DiRosano (OC)

Relationships of any kind during wartime are sometimes more important than mission briefings or making sure there’s enough donuts for the boys. When misunderstandings put them to the test, the least likely of the bunch to keep a level head ends up being the one to see them all through. All it takes is a bit of time. And some good humor.

Part Four Follow along with the Eight To the Bar Playlist

What’s that expression? What goes up, must come down. That one, not always pertaining to tossing something up in the air and waiting for gravity to ultimately pull it back to its rightful place, but emotions too. Temperatures, and the trickiest of them all, feelings. Feelings seemed to be the biggest culprit, running both hot and cold, I love you no I hate you. And the crash? The crash always came after you felt like you were floating on cloud nine. And it always came out of nowhere. 

It had been the perfect ending to what Val would call her worst day in England so far. Her friends were all safe, Curt and his crew included, and if she had to give it a name she’d say she was well on her way to being in love with Everett Blakely. He had given her the smallest taste of how he felt for her in his actions alone that night. Showering her in affection, never once asking for anything in return for all he had given her as they hid from the world- and the air raid- in the mess kitchen. Reminding her that he would continue to be a safe haven for her so long as she’d allow him. When Olive burst through the doors of the Red Cross hut after Val had come back, crying and looking like she had just lost everything, well, it proved the old saying right no matter how bad Val wanted to ignore it. The only question was who had made her cry the way she was; Benny or Douglass. She didn’t need specifics, what she needed was to make sure her friend was alright. As Val and Helen set about helping Olive get ready for bed, one with a soft hand to take off her makeup and wipe her tears, the other with a kind ear and shoulder, they had found out that it was James Douglass. 

“Deep breath Chickie, and tell us what happened.” Val had wrapped Olive in a hug, the pair sitting on her bed as she waited for the sniffling to die down. Helen had joined them, taking up the empty spot on Olive’s other side. 

“When we were walking back,” She hiccupped, hands wiping at her eyes furiously. “Benny, he told me that he knew when to bow out. He saw how Dougie and I looked at each other.”

“So then why is Doug mad?” Helen’s eyebrow raised, and Val could tell that the other woman was slowly starting to see where this was heading. 

“He saw me hug Benny, it was all friendly! Benny even said he sees me as a sister! And Dougie, he…” The tears had started again, but both girls knew what she was trying to say. 

“Doug saw the two of you.” Helen finished for her. 

“He’s so…” Olive gestures with her hands, trying to pick the right word. “Angry.”

“Oh, honey,” Val sighs, stroking Olive’s hand. “Don’t let it worry you. He was probably just drunk and not thinking straight.” Olive nods, in unison with Helen, 

“He’ll be fine by the morning,” Helen replied with a sweet smile. “He’s going to see you in that truck and he’ll forget he was ever angry the second he sees your pretty smile, mkay?”

“Exactly, it’ll all be alright. You’ll see.” Val grinned, and began helping Olive get ready for bed. Armed with a jar of cold cream, she set about taking her friend’s makeup off while Helen unpinned her hair and tied it up in a scarf for her, so that she could sleep comfortably. 

It was not alright. 

Everett is first at the truck the next morning, eyes sparkling as he spots Val hurrying over towards him. She greets him with a chaste kiss, one that has John Egan rolling his eyes as he stops for his morning coffee at the window Tattie is occupying. 

“Morning ladies.” Ev turns to greet the rest of the Clubmobile once he’s satisfied that he’d given Val a proper hello. 

“Morning Blakely,” Olive greets, placing two cups down on the ledge in front of him. “One for you, and the other is for Dougie.” “I don’t think coffee is gonna make it up to him, Olive,” he says, the furrow in his brow eerily similar to the one that Val makes almost daily. “He’s really upset.” “I wish he’d just listen to me,” She urges, her head pounding due to lack of sleep and dehydration. “If you could get him to–” “I’m staying out of it,” Everett responds, taking the cup on the right. “It’s none of my business if he wants to forgive you or not.” “I didn’t do anything!” Val can tell that just the discussion of it is causing Olive to get hot under the collar. Her eyes are beginning to water, and she looks like she might burst into tears at any moment. 

“Honey,” Val coos, intervening before anything escalates further. “Olive really didn’t do anything. Her and Benny were only talking.”

“She’s your friend, Val. Of course you’re taking her side.” He sighs, and then turns from his girlfriend back to Olive. “You led my friend on and I’m not okay with that.”

“Ev!” Val half shouts, following him as he begins to depart. 

She catches up to him just outside the equipment hut, his hand on the handle of the door, he’s surprised when she pushes the door shut on him, stopping him from entering. 

“What the hell, Val!”

“First of all, you walked away without so much as a goodbye, Everett,” She starts, shoulder leaning against the door to stop him from going in, arms crossed over her chest. “Second, I don’t understand why you won’t even listen to Olive.”

“Honey, I really don’t want to fight,” He sighs, dropping his hand to her waist to try and coax her closer. “We had such a nice night, I don’t want to ruin the morning.’ 

“No one’s ruining anything.”

“I’m sorry I walked away without saying goodbye…”

“Go on…’

“Go on, what? I’m sorry for not saying goodbye.”

“You’re not sorry for almost making Olive cry?”

“Val, this is between her and Doug, and apparently still Benny.”

“Oh my god, you’re just as stubborn as your damn friend!”

“Don’t yell at me, I didn’t start this fight…” He stressed. 

“No, that one’s on James Douglass.” She practically  growled, pushing off the door and turning to head back to the truck.

“Now who’s not saying goodbye!” Everett called after her. 

Val turned on her heel, stopping just long enough to see the uncertain look on his face, and hating every second of it. But she’d defend Olive, because that’s what friends did. Everett was doing it for Dougie, but that didn’t mean she liked it. Still, the idea of sending him up to fly without a goodbye; not something she would do. 

“Fly safe, please.” She called out to him, her eyes softening just enough for him to see she genuinely meant it. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

She just caught his grin as he pulled the door to the equipment hut open, before she turned to join the girls back at the Clubmobile. 

The remainder of the day had all of them in a funk. Olive was sad, Val was trying to stave off her anger and Helen and Tattie just wanted their friends to feel better. Just A Snappin had returned from its practice mission without a scratch, and Val had felt a surge of relief when Everett, accompanied by Croz, wandered up to the truck. Croz still looked a bit green around the gills, so when she tossed him a pack of gum from the open hatch, he eagerly accepted. Waving his thanks, he made his way to the equipment hut to drop off his gear, knowing that Ev needed a minute alone with Val after he had overheard the pilot and bombardier discussing their respective sweethearts that morning. 

“Hey…” Ev looked sheepishly up at Val, hazel eyes squinting in the late afternoon sun. 

“Hi…” Val dropped the rag she was using to wipe down the counter, dusting her hands off before jerking her head towards the back of the truck. When Ev nodded and moved to join her, she thought that maybe, this morning's event could be put behind them. 

She quickly descended the three steps, joining Ev on the grass, but not moving any further for fear he was still upset. 

“I’m sorry,” He spoke before she could get the words out. “I don’t want to argue with you, and I sure as hell don’t like it.”

“I don’t like it either,” Val sighed, taking his hands in hers. “I just… I know we both feel differently about this. But it’s also not our fight to be having.”

“Doug is real hurt.”

“So is Olive. Though to be fair, Dougie isn’t even giving her a chance to explain.”

“What’s to explain? He saw her with Benny.”

“You think he was able to tell what he really saw? It was dark and he had a few too many in him!” She could feel herself getting heated again, her eyes turning sharp, brow pinched. 

“He saw her with Benny! And Benny is just as bad,” Ev practically spat. “He knew Dougie had feelings for her and he cashed in on that stupid bike race.”

“I’m not doing this again!” Val pulled her hands back. 

“Doing what? Tell me Dougie is wrong?”

“Argue with you!” She turned, making her way back up the steps and into the Clubmobile, and Everett couldn’t be sure, but it sounded like she was speaking Italian under her breath. If she didn’t want him knowing what she was saying, it couldn’t have been good. 

“Val!” 

Helen appeared in the window, a sad smile on her face directed at him, and he knew he wasn’t apologizing his way out of this one. 

“Give her some time to cool off, Ev.”

“Just, tell her I’m sorry. Again.”

“I will, don’t worry.” Helen nodded, watching as he walked off in the same direction Croz had gone earlier. 

Just as Helen was about to turn and check on Valencia, she heard Olive shouting for Dougie as he passed. All three women in the truck held their breath, Tattie watching from the back door while Val and Helen remained in the truck. 

“He looks like shit…” Tattie whispered back to them. 

“What!”

“Like he hasn’t slept since this whole thing started.”

“Yea well, neither has she.” Val pointed out, Tattie and Helen nodding along in agreement just as they hear both Olive and Doug’s voices start to carry. 

“Dougie, can we please talk?” Val and Helen are now watching from the hatch windows, eyes wide in curiosity. “I have nothing to say to you. Save it for DeMarco.” Douglass’s words cut across to her, and the girls can all see Olive trying to maintain her composure, not wanting a repeat of this morning. “I'd like to exp–” She starts, but he cuts her off. “No need. I thought we were…” He sighs, a harsh breath pushing through his nostrils as he stops. “I don’t have time for this.” “Find time, James. Nothing is going on between Benny and I. We are just friends!” Olive stresses. “That’s not what it looked like last night,” He sighs, his shoulders dropping. The girls all see Olive’s eyes grow misty at his tone.

“If you’d just listen to me for one damn minute,” She urges, trying to hold back the tears. It makes her voice squeak, the effort of keeping it in causing her chest to tighten, her neck straining with it all, too. 

“No,” he says simply, and walks away. 

They’re all out of the truck like a shot as Olive returns. The tears are now freely flowing, and it takes every ounce of restraint on Val’s part not to go after Dougie for making her cry. Again.  

“Oh, darling, he’s not worth it,” Tattie is first at her side in consolation. Reaching into her pocket she pulls out her hip flask. With a quick glance to make sure Chick isn’t around to see, she hands it over to Olive. “Now drink, it’ll calm your nerves.”

Olive does as she’s told, wincing as the whiskey works its way down her throat. Tattie lights two cigarettes, passing one to her, hand falling to her back softly as she tries to sooth her. 

“Now,” She says, her eyes softening, though her words come out with the authority she’s known for. “Are you coming to the club tonight?”

Olive shakes her head with a deep sign, leaning against the truck and taking a deep drag of the cigarette. 

“No, I’m just going to clean up and go to bed. I don’t have it in me to socialize tonight.

“Well, you let us know. You know we’re gonna look after you.” Val is on her other side, her own cigarette between her fingers as she works to settle her own nerves. 

Olive gives a half hearted reply, stopping when she feels Meatball at her feet sniffing around. Benny is of course, right behind him with a kind smile, his preempted happiness at seeing his friend faltering as he takes in her appearance, and all of the girls around her. He’s worried, naturally, but they all reassure him that they’ve got it under control, and should they need him, they’ll give a holler. Val can tell that Benny is distraught over seeing Olive so sad, and she knows he feels partially responsible, so after he says his goodbye to Olive and the rest of them, Val beckons him over to the side, her voice low, though she knows that what she’s about to say no one passing by will understand anyway. 

“Benny, so che sei preoccupato, ma per favore non provare a parlare con Douglass.” Benny, I know you’re worried, but please don’t try and talk to Douglass.

“Lo so, non farà che peggiorare le cose, ma in parte è colpa mia.” I know, it will only make it worse, but this is partly my fault.

“Non è colpa tua. Douglass è testardo.” It is not your fault. Douglass is stubborn.

“Fatemi sapere se ha bisogno di qualcosa. Anche tu, se è per questo. Ho sentito te ed Everett stamattina.” Let me know if she needs anything. You too, for that matter. I heard you and Everett this morning. 

“Staremo bene, mi prenderò cura di lei.” We'll be fine, I'll take care of her. 

Val was acutely aware of three pairs of eyes on them as she spoke to Benny, but she knew that he would understand, and she didn’t want to keep beating a dead horse in front of Olive. The poor girl was worked up enough as it is, so to hear them continue to discuss the arguments being carried between them and the boys, would only upset her more. So, she kept it quiet in her own way, and would do what she could to protect her friend, and lift her spirits. 

That  night in the club it’s just Val, Helen and Tattie. It feels like they’re missing a big piece of the puzzle without Olive there with them, and it brings down the mood substantially. Not to mention that Douglass is sticking close to Hambone, and Ev, try as he might, wasn’t getting much out of Val. She had accepted the drink he had gotten her when they arrived at the club, and she had thanked him with a kiss to the cheek the same way she had that night a few weeks ago when he had spotted her giving Curt the what for. Before they had become officially Everett and Valencia and were still toeing the line between flirty friends and a couple. Val hated it. She missed sitting on his lap at their table, the smell of his aftershave as she pushed her nose against his neck as they danced, the feel of his hands on her waist as he twirled her around. Glancing over her shoulder, she spots him at the bar with Brady and Crank looking, for lack of a better word, less than invested in the discussion that the other two pilots were currently having. Sparring him another glance, green eyes focused but trying not to be obvious, she completely misses Curt taking the seat next to her. 

“Alright, what the hell did I miss? Where’s Olive?” He announces his arrival in a flurry of questions, as you do when your name is Curt Biddick. 

“Olive’s in bed.” Val turns to him in reply. 

“Is she sick?”

“Not sick, just,” Val takes a breath, wondering just how much Curt knows, and if Everett had divulged anything to him upon his arrival back at base. “Not feeling very social tonight.”

“Well, I know yous all missed me but, you can perk up now, ladies!” He joked, and Val knew he didn’t really know anything of what had gone on that day. 

“We did miss you, Curt, but it’s more than that.” 

“Well, how about ya give your old friend a dance and fill me in, hmm?” 

He was holding a hand out to her, and she knew that if she denied him, he’d be on her in a fury of more questions and worries. So, with a forced smile, she obliged Curt his dance and let him lead her out to the dance floor as the band slowed down a bit. 

Keeping his hands above the waist and in a respectable way, lest his mother come to England and give him a smack for anything more than that, he began to sway them gently, his eyes finding hers. 

“So, why are ya giving me a dance when Blakely is all alone at the bar looking like someone kicked his dog?”

“We’re not exactly seeing eye to eye right now.” She sighed. 

“What happened?”

“Well, long story short, you missed a spectacular bike race in the mess hall last night. Benny and Dougie had a bet. Winner walks Olive back to the hut.”

“DeMarco won, didn’t he,” It was not a question. “Is that why Doug is practically up Hambone’s rear end and Olive’s in bed?” 

“Benny won,” She confirmed. “So he walked her back, and according to Olive, he told her that he was bowing out. He sees her as a sister and wanted to be friends, but Dougie had a few in him and saw her hug him.”

“So now he’s all pissy, and lemme guess. Blakely’s on his side so now you and him are at odds.”

“You know, after the war, you could go into psychology.”

“Doctor Biddick at your service!”

“Gross, no. I take it back, it sounds yucky.” Val scrunched up her face, causing Curt to bark out a laugh. It drew the attention of Ev at the bar, and had she been dancing with anyone else, she’d be worried, simply because of the current argument at hand. 

“You want my opinion or nah?” Curt pulled her attention back to him just as the song began to wind down. 

“You’re going to give it to me anyway,:” She shook her head, letting him lead her to the bar for a drink. “So let’s hear it.”

He stopped walking just as they reached Everett, Curt giving her a gentle nudge in his direction. 

“Stop the fightin’ the both of yous,” He looked at Everett, then back to her. “And give your gal a dance, Blakely.” 

He left them at the bar without another word, wandering over to where the Major’s were congregated at the other end, Bucky and Gale pulling him into whatever conversation they were having. 

“He’s right…” Everett conceded, taking her hand and leading her away from the bar. 

“Don’t let him hear you say that.” She glanced up at him, eyes twinkling, letting him know that she was done being upset. 

“Let’s put this aside, even if it’s just for right now. Come dance with me?”

“Yea, okay,” He led her to the dance floor, finding an open space before pulling her close, her eyes fluttering closed in delight as he held her. “Missed you today.”

“Missed you more, honey.” His lips pressed against her temple, letting her know that he meant it. 

“Is it bad that I want to lock them both in a room until they sort it out?”

“We can’t do that,” Ev chuckled. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

“To who?”

“Either of them.” He assured her. 

“And what about us?” She inquired, thumb stroking over his cheekbone. “Is it fair for us to argue too?”

“No, it’s not fair, but-”

“No buts,” She cut him off. “Just listen, please.”

“What she did was not okay, Val. Besides, isn’t Doug your friend too?”

She pulled away from him as if he had burned her, stepping back mid dance and putting enough distance between them that he wouldn’t be able to pull her back. 

“Of course he’s my friend!” She hissed, trying not to disturb the other couples on the dance floor. “But that doesn’t make him any less capable of making a mistake, Ev!”

“So you’re admitting he’s wrong but Olive wasn’t?”

“Gesù Cristo, come può un uomo essere così testardo!" Jesus Christ, how can one man be so stubborn!

“Val, don’t start yelling, not here!” He grabbed her arm, and the two of them left the dance floor in a flurry, trying not to draw any more attention to themselves. 

When they reached the bar, she pulled her arm from his grasp; it was just tight enough that she couldn’t slip away, but never painful, and fixed him with a look he had never seen before. 

“I’m leaving.”

“What?”

“I’m. Leaving.” She ground out, smoothing her jacket before taking a deep breath. 

“Honey, please don’t leave.”

“Why not? All we’ve done all day is argue over Doug!”

At that, Douglass turned from where he was at the bar with Hambone, eyes wide in shock. He hadn’t been expecting Val to be as heated as she was, but again, he supposed he should have known better than to assume Olive’s best friend wouldn’t take some frustration out on him. 

“The hell did I do to you?” Dougie had regained his composure, turning to face Val in bewilderment. 

“You,” she seethed. “You hurt my friend.”

“What, she can dish it out but she can’t take it?” 

“Woah ayy enough you three!” Curt was between Val and Douglass before either of them saw it coming, and to Dougie’s dismay, Benny DeMarco was with him. 

“Of course you’re here.” Dougie rolled his eyes at Benny, causing Curt to put just enough force into his stance and push Douglass back. 

“You hearin me Doug? I said, that’s enough.”

Dougie nodded silently, watching as Curt turned back to Val who stood statue still, utter shock etched across her features. 

“Demarco, walk her back,” He nodded at the pilot kindly. “I’ll be right there and then we’re gonna talk, yea?”

Val hugged Curt tightly before departing, and she knew he could see the tears in her eyes. He knew it before she felt the first one fall, that she was utterly terrified of losing Everett and her friendship with Douglass. For all the days she was tough as nails and kept him in line, he knew that the girl he used to walk home from work at night, who’d clutch his arm a little too hard if someone catcalled her, or cried on his shoulder when her heart was broken, was still in there somewhere. 

As she turned to leave, she could see the broken look on Everett’s face. Someone else was walking her back. Someone who wouldn’t kiss her good night, or hold her until they absolutely had to part. It was someone else, not him, and if he could, she’s sure he’d give himself the beating that Curt surely wanted to bestow upon him. But she was safe with Benny, and she’d be safe with Curt. She just wished that she was safe with Everett instead. 

Benny had walked her back, and it was the most uncomfortable silence that Val had felt in a long time. Meatball had dutifully followed his owner as he left, and trotted along happily between the two of them, stopping every so often to snuffle at the ground or bark. She wasn’t sure what to say, if she should say anything at all. She was grateful when Benny broke the silence by handing her a cigarette, the end already burning a soft orange ember. 

“Thanks…”

“Hey, you know none of this is anyone’s fault. It’s all just…”

“An alcohol fueled misunderstanding?” She turned to him, her eyebrow raised. 

“Yea, it really is,” He chuckled. “Doug was drunk last night. All he remembers is what he saw when he was drunk.”

“He made her cry twice, Ben…”

“I know. I’m mad at him for that too.”

“God, I left them in there with Curt,” She groans, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I left my boyfriend with Curt who, if looks could kill-“

“Woah, hey, come on now,” He drops a hand to her shoulder reassuringly as they come up to the Red Cross hut. “Curt wouldn’t hurt Ev or Doug.”

“Tell that to the last guy that made me cry.”

“The last guy had it coming, I’ll bet. But not Blakely or Doug.”

“Did I blow it with him completely? Maybe I am too much…” The words came out on a broken breath, and she felt herself about to crumble. 

“Absolutely not. You’re not too much.” Benny pulled her into a hug, knowing that she needed it, and wouldn’t be able to wait for Curt to show up. 

He traded places with the pilot as soon as he saw him approach, carefully shifting Val from his arms into Curt’s. Sharing a look, silently asking if he had needed to swing at anyone back in the club, Curt simply shook his head no, Benny breathing a sigh of relief. Offering him a wave, he called for Meatball who barely hesitated to follow him back towards the officers hut for their nightly routine. 

“Come on now,” Curt soothed, hand rubbing up and down her back gently. “No crying.”

“I ruined it.”

“What, your mascara? Yea gal, ya did.”

“Curt…”

“Ohhh ya mean Blakely? Nah, not at all. He looks like someone kicked his dog but that fella’s still crazy for ya.”

“I yelled at him.” She lifted her head from his shoulder, swiping under her eyes furiously to get rid of the tears. 

“I know, I heard ya.”

“Called him stubborn.”

“Mhmm, well, we all get that way from time to time.”

“What if-“

“No. You stick to ya guns. But, ya gotta clear your head; you’re both hot under the collar and not thinkin straight.”

“You think so? What if it ends up like-“

“Blakely ain’t him, you hear me? Yous two will work it all out, otherwise all my hard work will be for nothin.”

“What hard work?” 

“Who do ya think slipped him your favorite drink, hm?”

“That was you!?” She shouted, eyes wide in disbelief. She had sworn it was one of the girls and they just weren’t budging. 

“Yea dollie, it was me.”

“Curt Biddick!”

“Wanna see my best gal happy, so stop with the tears and go get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the mornin.”

“Love you, even if you are a huge pain in my ass.” She grinned, pulling him close. 

“Yea yea, I know ya do,” He hugged her back tightly, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. “And I know I am.”

It took a full week. A full week of Val sticking close to the other girls, and Curt. A week of Olive slipping off to bed early and avoiding the Officers Club for fear of running into Dougie. A week of the three of them trying to get her out of the funk the argument had caused. Val barely saw Everett unless he was passing by the Clubmobile or in the Officers Club at night. They had scarce words for each other, but she always had his coffee ready in the morning, and he always had a cocktail waiting for her at night. They were allowing the other to cool down, and she wasn’t sure what Curt had told him, but she ventured a guess it was similar to what he had told her. Give it time. But still, there was just enough of a reminder there for the other to know they still cared. They were not throwing in the towel. 

The boys had gone up on a raid earlier that morning, and Val hadn’t hesitated to send Ev off with his coffee and a kiss. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, send him up with anything less than her affection for him. Please. She had begged, hands holding his for the first time since their dance turned into an argument at the club the week before. Come back to me, Ev. Had made him promise he would, that she’d see both feet on the ground. And he had kept that promise. She’d spent the entirety of the time waiting for him, with her Rosary in one pocket, and her own red braid tied around her wrist. It was Curt who strolled into Interrogation first, cheeky smile and arms wide open for her. He was quick to reassure her that Ev was alright, and would be along any second.

“You gonna talk to him?” Curt asked, holding her at arm's length. 

“Not here,” She shook her head. “Not the time or place.”

“Alright, that’s fair.” Curt was quickly shuffled into interrogation by Dickie, who offered her a one armed hug and a smile before continuing on. 

Turning back to where she was working on doling out coffee, she saw Ev and Douglass enter the hut, the former scanning the room for her with tired eyes. 

“All in one piece?” She questioned, holding out two coffee cups for them both. She still had a job to do. 

“Yes,” Ev smiled, taking the cup from her before giving her hand a squeeze. “Later?” 

“Come find me.” She nodded, quickly moving to the next set of boys who were coming into the hut. Douglass had left without so much as a thanks for the coffee, but she couldn’t let it eat at her, because Brady and Hambone were waiting with smiles,; albeit tired ones, as she handed off coffee and welcomed them back to base. 

“Hey Val…” Hambone’s stage whisper didn’t do him any good at hiding what he wanted to say, and she couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Yea, Hammy?”

“Douglass is a cranky sunuvabitch without Olive glued to his side.” He carried on, and Brady couldn’t help but shake his head as he pushed his bombardier along down the line. 

“I know, Hammy, I’m working on it. We all are.”

Val was cleaning up with Tattie, the two of them quickly packing away the leftover donuts, and moving it all to the Clubmobile. She had just stepped outside when Everett finally exited the interrogation room. He had been fully prepared to end the argument, but when Hambone had begun teasing Douglass about how Val also thinks he’s a cranky bastard, well, Everett couldn’t comprehend why his girlfriend would pour gasoline on an already blazing fire. His eyes scanned the room before he caught Tattie, the brunette giving him a stern look before gesturing outside with a nod of her head. Everett, taking the wordless cue as a sign to head outside, was stopped by Tattie as he approached the door, the same stern look on her face. 

“Patch this shit up, would ya? I’m tired of my friends crying.”  

“She’s been crying?” Ev looked at Tattie with wide, nervous eyes. His stomach dropping to his feet at the thought that he’d made Val cry. 

“She has,” Tattie nodded. “So please, let’s end this, yea?”

“I’ll talk to her.” He nodded, making a break for it before he got an even longer lecture from the General’s daughter. 

She was coming from the Clubmobile when he spotted her. Her red lips were stretched in a smile he hadn’t seen in days, and it almost pained him that he was about to ask if what Hambone had said was true. 

“Hi,” She breathed, taking his hands and pulling him off to the side of the hut. “Are you okay?”

“If you mean the mission, then yea, I’m okay.”

“What else would I be talking about?”

“I’m a bit baffled as to why you would tell Hambone that Dougie is a cranky bastard.”

“What?” She stepped back, looking at him to see if he was joking. “I didn’t say that to Hammy.”

“Then what did you say?”

“Oh my god,” She sighed. “Hambone told me that Dougie has been cranky without Olive, and I said I agreed and that we were trying to fix it.” 

“So he is cranky?”

“Well he hasn’t slept from the looks of it. I’d say that constitutes crankiness, Ev!”

“I thought we were getting to the end of this, but you’re still against Doug.”

“I’m not against Doug, I’m just not in agreement with the way he’s handling all of this.”

“Well, then I guess we’re not at the end of this are we?”

“It would appear not.” She groaned, turning around to head back to the Clubmobile. She could see Helen and Olive inside, and needed to be there instead of here. 

“Val!”

“Oh my god,” She turned on her heel, staring at him as he stood there. “What?”

When he didn’t reply, she turned back, letting out a frustrated growl as she stomped back to the Clubmobile. 

When she enters the Clubmobile, her face is the picture of anger, and Helen is the first to notice. “Not you too!” She protests, shaking her head in disbelief. “I thought things seemed better after today!” 

“What?” Val replies, an edge to her tone that she instantly regrets when Helen winces. “Ev is taking Dougie’s side, I'm taking Olive’s and we're talking in fucking circles.”

“I'm sorry, Val,” Olive whimpers from across the truck, and Val turns to see she’s clenching her fists at her sides, her face blotchy from her latest spill of emotions, and remnants of mascara smudged under her eyes. “I'm sorry you and Ev are fighting because of me.”

“We're not fighting because of you,”  She flips the page of the magazine that’s resting on the counter with such force, the counter rattles under the weight of her fist. “We're fighting because of Douglass.” 

“Val…” Olive begins to protest but she’s quick to cut her off. 

“Stop that, it is not your fault! You're allowed to be friends with Benny the same way I’m friends with Curt.” She snaps, flipping another page.

“Honey, take a breath…” Helen tries to get her to relax, but it’s no use. Her rage carries through the truck and out into the open air surrounding it. 

“Does that make sense to you?” She yells over her shoulder. The two girls nod, wide eyed at her tone, unsure if she’s addressing them or not. “Everett?” 

She shouts again, still not looking up from her magazine when Everett comes around the corner, absolutely flabbergasted at the point she had been trying to make for the last week. 

“It makes sense, Val.” He sighs, looking up at her with apologetic eyes, before he turns and heads towards the Officers hut, mulling over everything she had just indirectly shouted at him. At least this time she had yelled at him in English and he had been able to understand it. 

“Did he just…agree with you?” Helen looked at Val, eyes wide at how quickly she had put him in check. 

“Yes Helen, he did.” Val closed the magazine, folded her hands under her bust and turned to her friend’s with a smile. 

“Remind me never to get on your bad side.” She shuddered, a laugh punching through at the end as she saw Olive crack a small smile. 

“Now!” Val clapped her hands and turned to Olive. “Are you coming to the club tonight?”

“Yea,” Olive nodded, her smile returning. “Yea I am.” 

——————————————————

They take their time getting ready that night. Val happily sits Olive down so she can pin her hair for her, and apply her makeup. It had been a rough week for them both, Olive more than Val, and she wanted her friend to relax. Nothing to worry about while in their hut other than which shade of rouge they might wear or how she was going to style her hair. Their uniforms were pressed and hanging up, ready to be slipped into, pantyhose laid out on the bed along with clean lingerie and shined shoes waiting for a spin on the dance floor. 

Meatball had tried to follow them back to their hut after they closed up the Clubmobile for the night, but Benny had promptly dragged the husky back to his hut for a bath after a particularly muddy afternoon with Winks and Lemmon’s. So, the girls had turned on their staticky radio in the corner of their hut and enjoyed their early evening of primping and getting ready for a night at the club. The mood was light, and it felt like any other day; even Tattie seemed a bit brighter. Maybe they were getting to the end of this hellish week. Maybe Douglass would see reason, and Everett would be the one to walk her back and kiss her goodnight. Maybe the anger that had been swirling around base was finally dissipating. 

“I’m going for a smoke,” Val announced, shrugging on her jacket and heading for the door. “You two coming?”

“Almost done,” Olive replied, peeking over her shoulder as she dug through some jewelry. “Helen and I will catch you up, Chicken.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you at the club.” 

Helen waved her off absent mindedly as she applied her lip liner with laser focus, not bothering to glance up from the mirror. Pushing the door open, Val found Curt and Dickie also walking towards the club, the pair stopping to allow her a chance to catch up. Curt had his lighter out before she even reached him, the flame flickering in front of his face making him look ominous. 

“There’s the gal!” Curt bellowed as she approached. 

“Must you always yell?” She gave him a gentle shove before allowing him to light her cigarette. 

“You know he can’t help himself.” Dickie chimed in, tossing an arm over her shoulder and steering her towards the club. 

“You two behaving?” She looks between them, eyebrow raised in question. 

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” Curt nudges her, pulling the cigarette from her for himself. “You’re out there screamin and startin fights.” 

“I think today might have been the last fight.”

When Curt looks over, he’s expecting sadness, no doubt, but is surprised to see that Val looks happier, and a bit lighter than she had been. 

“You two make up?” 

“We’re getting there. I think I finally got my point across.”

“What is the point,” Dickie asks. “if you don’t mind me asking.”

“That if I can be with Ev and still be best friends with Curt, Olive can be friends with Benny while still being with Douglass.”

“And Blakely knows this now?” The Co-Pilot inquires, looking at her curiously. 

“Like I said,” Val nods. “Got my point across.”

“That means she yelled.” Curt clarified. Stealing her cigarette back from him she shooed them both into the club. 

She hadn’t been waiting long when Olive and Helen strolled up, arms linked and smiling about something. This, Val thought, was how things should be. Her friends, happy. Her boyfriend, happy. Everyone safe. She stubs out her cigarette against the wall as she greets the pair, her voice carrying across the space between them. When she hears the door open behind her, she sees Olive pale immediately as she moves to stand behind Val, clutching her hand tightly.  It’s Dougie that’s exited the club, and he looks the worst of them all. 

“Douglass.” Val nods to him, watching him closely. 

“Valencia,” He replies, gesturing behind him as he speaks. “Ev's waiting for you inside.” 

Val can feel Olive’s nerves radiating off of her, doing her best to keep her out of Douglass’s line of sight. They’re so close to being inside the club, so close to a night around their table with cocktails and laughter. She’s so focused on the next step, that she completely misses Tattie as she slides up next to them, cigarette burning in one hand, gaze focused on the group that had gathered. 

“Jeez, you look lousy, Ol,” Tattie says, unaware of Val trying to shield her. “Still not sleeping?” Val doesn’t hear her reply, but a quick glance behind her and she see’s Olive shaking her head silently in response. She’s chewing on her bottom lip, the lipstick that Val had applied for her now staining her teeth. 

“I'm sure Benny would give you some place to sleep,” Dougie spits. The words leaving his mouth so quickly, if Val hadn’t been paying attention she might have missed it. “If he hasn't already.” 

Dougie’s face falls the second the words leave his mouth,  instantly regret washing over his features as the weight of what he’s just said settles over them all like the fog that perpetually covers England. It’s thick and murky, and wading through it makes you unsure because you can’t see where you’re going, or what’s going to happen next. Olive’s face crumples, and try as she might to hide it, a sob breaks free from her throat and out into the night air. 

“Dougie! Jesus Christ!” Everett shouts. The door of the club swings shut behind him, and he’s shocked at what he heard leaving his friend's mouth. 

Timing was everything, it seemed. Val is on Dougie in a flash, arm pulled back and ready to swing. Something, she thinks, Curt should have done days ago. James Douglass deserved the sense beat into him as far as she was concerned, but Tattie is just as quick as she is and she’s pulling her back with all the force one would expect from General Spaatz’s daughter. 

“Val, no, no!” Tattie is dragging her away as she shouts, the sound becoming almost guttural as her throat gives out. 

“How dare you, James Douglass!” She roars. “Look at the fucking state of her!” 

Everyone silently turns to Olive who is wrapped up in Helen’s arms, her cries muffled as Helen holds her tightly, and does her best to soothe her through all the ruckus. .  

“Olive,” Dougie starts, his voice cracking as he takes a step closer to her.

“No!” 

It’s Helen who shouts, surprising everyone as she puts her hand in Dougie’s face, stopping him from getting even a step closer to the girl she’s tending to. 

“Not until everyone has calmed down,” She continues, speaking firmly, both Tattie and Val looking on in surprise as mild mannered, sweet, Helen is the one to put her foot down. “You especially, Douglass.” 

He nods quietly, hands behind his back as he watches Tattie lead Val into the club, the green eyed Italian practically snarling at him on the way past. She’s not paying attention to whether or not Everett is following behind, her focus entirely on Tattie’s grip on her arm, the noise of the club as she walks through the doors, and the smell of cigarette smoke as Tattie lights them each one. 

“I’m starting to wonder what would have happened if I had left the hut five minutes later.” Tattie exhaled, smoke swirling around her, making her look almost ethereal. 

“You’d be explaining to Harding why Doc Stover was sewing James Douglass back together like Raggedy Anne.”

“Jeez, he really put his foot in it didn’t he.” 

Val was about to reply when the door swung open, Helen and Everett entering together, both looking like they needed more than just a drink, but also like they had accomplished something. 

Helen motioned for Tattie to join her, the two linking arms and heading further into the club to secure a table and some drinks, while Val and Everett stood staring at each other in the doorway like two awkward teenagers. 

“Where’s Olive and Dougie?” She asked, back pressed against the wall, unmoving. 

“I did what you suggested last week,” Everett shrugged. “Locked them in a room to sort it out.”

“Everett!”

“No,” He chuckled. “They’re in the mess hall, talking.”

“Are they okay unsupervised like that?”

“They’re fine. I think they’re both too tired to keep fighting.”

“And what about you? Are you too tired to keep fighting?”

“Sweetheart,” He took the three steps separating them, his hands taking hers and pulling her away from the wall and into his arms. “I’ve been exhausted since it started.”

“Me too.” 

His arms came around her, pulling her flush against his body. Holding each other in the quiet of the entryway, Val could feel all of her anger dissipate. She had been a pot of hot, boiling water, all week. Bubbling with anger and fear, and now, the steam was floating off the top of the pot and taking everything with it. 

“I should have listened to you.” Everett murmured, face nuzzled into her hair as he held her. 

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you.” She whispered, pressing herself closer, her hands gripping fistfuls of his jacket. 

“You yelled at me in Italian,” He chuckled. “Curt said that means you’re really mad.”

“It sort of just happens.” She shrugged, pulling back so she could see his face. 

“He wouldn’t tell me what you said.”

“I called you stubborn.” She winced. 

“I deserve that. I was really stubborn.”

Everett’s hands slid around to cup the back of her neck, thumbs brushing the underside of her jaw as they stood there. The first fight, over. All that was left was to make up- truly make up. 

“I’m sorry,” Val sighed, feeling Everett’s lips brush over hers like a whisper. “I’m so sorry…”

“Shh, It’s okay, it’s over, sweetheart.”

“I thought I ruined it...”

“You didn’t ruin a damn thing,” He shook his head, leaning down to press his lips fully to hers. “Not a damn thing.” 

Val pulled him back down to her instantly, her lips molding to his, her hands gripping the lapels of his jacket to pull him closer. She wanted to be as close as she could  after not having him near all week, as close as was not considered indecent as they stood in the entrance to the Officers Club where anyone could happen upon them. When Everett pulled away for air, she chased him on a gasp, her breathing ragged, begging for him to come closer again. 

“I’m sorry, too.” He sucked in a breath, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“This was a miserable week,” She groaned. “I hated every second of it.”

“Can only imagine how Olive and Doug felt.” 

“Speaking of,” Val shook her head. “We should really check on them.”

Nodding, Everett reluctantly pulled away from her, taking her hand and leading her further into the club to seek out their friends. When they reached the table, they found Helen and Tattie with Benny, Curt and Dickie. Meatball was currently biting at Gale Cleven’s heels across the room. No Olive or Douglass to be found. 

“Look who it is!” Curt exclaimed, slamming his beer down and causing it to slosh all over his arm and the table.  

“Jesus Curt, you’re a mess.” Tattie shook her head. 

“Forget it,” Curt shook his arm out behind him, spraying beer all over the back of an unsuspecting Crank. “Yous two kiss and make up?”

“Yea,” Val grinned. “We did.”

“Finally!” Helen clapped her hands together in excitement. “Where’s Olive and Doug?”

“They’re not here?”

“No…”

“They’re still talking?” Val’s eyes went wide, suddenly worried that Ev had sent them on their way, alone. 

“I guess? You think we should check on them?”

“For my own sanity, yes Helen, we should.” 

When the whole table stood to follow Val and Helen out of the club, neither could really say they blamed any one of them. Every one of them had been involved either directly, or indirectly, and wanted to see what would become of Olive and Douglass. So they headed back out into the night air, Val tugging Everett along with her while Helen and Tattie were right at her side. 

“God I hope they haven’t killed each other.” Tattie sighed just as they rounded the corner to the mess hall. The girls try to peer through the small windows in the door, but the lights are off in the mess hall and they can’t see anything in front of them. The boys, all hanging back, are watching to see what the girls might do next. 

“I can’t see a thing!” 

“Shh!”

“It’s too dark!”

“Why don't yous three just go inside?” 

“Because, Curt,” Val turned and fixed him with a look. “We can’t go in there if they’re still in there.”

“Where else would they be?”

“I don’t know,” She sighed. “There’s dozens of places they could have run off to.” 

“Why don’t you look through the windows on the side?” Benny offered, gesturing around to the side of the building. Val’s eyes lit up as she pulled Helen and Tattie around the side with her, stopping short when she realizes that they can’t see in the windows. They’re all too short. 

“Everett!” She calls, her head coming around the corner to look for him. “I can’t see!”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Give me a boost?” She’s batting her lashes and looking at him like she’ll give him the whole world if he helps her. And he knows that even if she promised him nothing, he can never deny her anything. 

“Come on,” He quickly shrugs off his jacket, passing it over to Curt so he can join the girls. “Benny, Dickie, come give the other two a lift would ya?”

“What about me?” Curt groans, now holding all of the jackets. 

“I’m not lifting you up, Biddick.” Everett looks at him in mock disgust, hands gripping Val’s waist as he prepares to hoist her up onto his shoulder. 

“Okay honey, just like when I gave you a boost into the fort, yea?”

“Got it.” She nodded, waiting for him to count to three. She’s on his shoulders faster than she can blink. Leaning against the window, Val uses her hands to brace herself so she can see inside. Helen is next to her, one hand on Val’s shoulder for support while the other is pressed against the side of the building. 

“Oh my god!” Val exclaims, her excitement causing her to lose her balance and almost slip from Everett’s shoulder. 

“What! Someone tell me what’s goin on up there!” Curt hollers from the ground. 

“Benny, move a little closer…” Tattie is trying hard to see inside, her hands over her eyes like binoculars to block out the glare against the window. Below her, Benny lets out a swear in Italian that has Val cackling. “Wow!”

“He’s kissing the daylights out of her!” Helen calls down to the boys, a smile on her face. 

In her excitement, Val begins banging on the glass, Helen joining in with her as their laughter turns into uncontrollable giggles. 

“Well, they saw us…” Tattie grins, tapping Benny to set her down on the ground before she topples over. Val and Helen are close to falling, but Everett and Dickie have them both on the ground before they risk hurting themselves. 

“I don’t think they’re coming out,” Val is beaming as she throws her arms around Helen and Tattie, her happiness contagious. “Good for them.”

“Come on ladies,” Helen gestures towards the direction of the club. “Let’s leave them to it.”

As they turn to head back, Everett pulls Val under his arm, tucking her against his side as they walk. He’s smiling as he plucks the Lucky Strike from behind his ear and lights it, handing it off to her for the first pull. Her red nails glow as the ember reflects off them, her smile threatening to split her face in two as she hands it back to him. 

“Is all right in the world now, sweetheart?”

“For now…”

“Only for now?” He questions, stopping just outside the door to the club. 

“When this war is over, then my world will be right again.”

It was the kind of night that seemed to go on forever. No one wanted to go to bed when the club had emptied out, all of them high on adrenaline and making up for lost time they had walked from the club to the hardstands. Laughing and sharing cigarettes, the girls giggling a little extra as the alcohol pulsed through their veins, the boys all watching with smiles on their faces and glimmers in their eyes. They had argued over whose fort to hang out in front of; Ev and Douglass lobbying for Just - A - Snappin while Benny tried to steer them towards Our Baby. Curt and Dickie didn’t care whose fort they set up camp in front of, because according to Curt it was getting increasingly difficult to not polish off the bottle he had swiped from behind the bar upon exit. And so, they picked a spot in the grass between the two Flying Fortresses, Meatball stretched out next to Benny, and continued to just be together. A motley crew if Val had ever seen one, but they were her’s. They had stayed there until the sun began peeking over the horizon, when Thorpe Abbotts was bathed in the soft orange glow of morning. Only then did they leave. 

Helen was dozing on Dickie’s shoulder, his jacket tossed over her shoulders, and Tattie had gotten cozy between Benny and Meatball, the Husky laying over her legs for a little extra warmth. Olive was tucked under Dougie’s shoulder, and Val was laying with her head in Everett’s lap, his fingers combing through her curls as she relaxed for the first time in days. Curt had his head in her lap, awake but silent, and Val couldn't remember the last time her friend had been so calm. 

“Hey,” Olive mumbled sleepily, her foot nudging Val’s. “I know I said it a lot this week but, thank you.”

“What are you thanking me for?”

“For having my back,” She signed, reaching over to squeeze her hand. “For reminding me what it’s like to have true friends.”

“Olive, I will always have your back, you hear me?”

“Yea,” She signed contentedly, snuggling further into Dougie’s chest. “Yea I hear ya.”

Nothing else needed to be said between them, she realized. All it took was a simple thank you and a reminder that she wasn’t alone, for Val to realize that Olive had finally put it all behind her. Douglass had pulled her aside earlier when he and Olive finally returned to the club, and before anything was said between them, he had hugged her. His apologies were profuse, and Val had to stop him before he started rambling; he had smoked two cigarettes in the time it took her to get him to understand that he was forgiven, and that it would take something much bigger than that to ruin the friendship they were building. She was beginning to think of him as her second Curt- brash and a bit off the walls, but a good heart. All of them had good hearts. It didn’t take a genius to figure that out, and she counted herself lucky in being able to share in that. With a content smile, she snuggled deeper into Everett’s lap, holding on tight to the hand that wasn’t playing with her hair. 

“Hey, Doug,” Ev spoke lowly, not wanting to disturb the peace around them. “Should we get these girls back to the hut so they can sleep?”

“Nah,” Doug replied, smiling. “Might not get a chance at such a clear sunrise again for a while.”

“You’re right pal. Besides, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful before.” 

“I couldn’t agree more. It sure is beautiful.”

“Bellissima…” Val whispered in quiet agreement. 

Everything was Bellissima. 

Part Six

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

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[blakelysco-pilot]

Valencia is about to learn first hand that not everything is as it seems. Especially when the horrors of the war takes from her for the first time. Who will be there to pick her up, and carry her through, and will friendship be enough?

Every Time We Say Goodbye; Part 7 of Eight to the Bar, coming soon.

Tag List: @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @bobparkhurst @rosiesriveter @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @prettyinlimegreenboots @manonsmanicmind @precious-little-scoundrel @beingalive1 @ptvstvrrr

[blakelysco-pilot]

100 paired prompts list - ¹⁶⁾ perfume oil (or frying oil, your pick) and rolled up shirtsleeves, for Val! (Whose shirtsleeves are rolled up is entirely up to you.)

Hi friend! I’m sorry this took me absolute ages, but it feels so good to come back to Val and Ev after being away for a while. Thank you for this 💗

If you asked Val DiRosano what the hardest job was at RAF Thorpe Abbotts, she would tell you the ground crews, the pilots and their crews, doctors and nurses, operators and officers in the control tower all worked their fingers to the bone day in, and day out. If you asked Red Bowman or Chick Harding, they would tell you it was the four young women who upended their lives to serve in the war effort. The girls who, without much help outside themselves, made more coffee and donuts than they had ever seen in their lives, from inside of a converted single decker bus, and put up with hundreds of rowdy men boys just to give them a little slice of Americana while so far from home, without much in return.

Every morning like clockwork, the Red Cross Clubmobile was the first to come to life on Thorpe Abbotts airfield. One of the four girls would venture out to the truck at 4:30 in the morning to begin the ritual of making the first batch of donuts and starting the coffee urns. As the donuts baked and the coffee percolated she would then set about setting out any sweets that they had on hand from rations deliveries; chewing gum, lucky strikes and if they were fortunate, newspapers from the US along with the local East Anglia paper. A water bowl for Meatball was then placed at the bottom of the stairs at the back of the truck, so he was also taken care of when visiting his girls for the day. A daily ritual that they had done for so long now, that any changes were frowned upon. All except for one.

It was stifling; the heat of the donut maker filling the inside of the Clubmobile with steam even with the side hatch open and the cool morning air outside. The base wasn’t awake yet, but Val could see the lights on in the control tower which meant that Chicky and Red were more than likely already working. The coffee urn behind her was filled to the brim, and the batch of donuts in the machine were just about finished as she moved to pull the rack for them off the storage shelf above the machine.

“Shit!”

Helen had closed up the truck the day before after a supply run from ATS, and she was just tall enough that when she put things back on the shelf, no one else could reach them.

“I’ve got it….” Ev slid behind her, one hand on her waist as he reached over her shoulder with his right arm to pull the rack down off the shelf.

“Thank you,” she sighed, dropping her head back against his chest. “Helen and her long arms closed up yesterday.”

A laugh punched from his chest, both his hands now on her shoulders as he gently squeezed, letting her relax against him for a moment. The Clubmobile stirred with life, the scent of coffee and donuts permeating the air soon to be consumed by the men of Thorpe Abbotts; but for now it was just them, in the quiet of the truck as the sun still slept. Normally when it was her turn to open the truck, Val made a point of sleeping in her own rack, but she had been out on the hardstand all night- there was a borrowed jeep and some blankets involved- and when she had told Ev that it was her turn that morning, he had simply nodded, lit them both a cigarette, and followed her on her way to work. It was quiet and domestic, the kind of thing most of the men on base wouldn’t dream of doing but Ev Blakely wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to spend a few extra hours alone with Val before he was dragged off to his office. Especially when those hours were peaceful, under the cover of dusk.

“It’s so quiet…”

Ev’s hands slid down from Val’s shoulders. A gentle squeeze to her upper arms, down again to her elbows, past the bunched up sleeves of her jumpsuit that she had rolled up until he found her hands. The only sound coming from the truck was the methodical sound of the coffee urn, and the motor of the donut machine as the sinkers baked.

“I know,” she sighed, still leaning against him, her fingers threading through his. “It’s my favorite part of the day.”

“Really?”

“I pour myself some coffee, turn on one of the records, and it’s like I’m home. There’s no war, no one looking for me to help with reports or set up for interrogation, no extra worries; I’m just Val, having coffee, reading a magazine and making breakfast.”

“Well, thank you for sharing your quiet morning with me.”

“Our quiet morning.” She corrected, giving his hands a squeeze.

“When this is all over…” Ev started, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “You can have as many quiet mornings as you want.”

“Quite like sharing them with you, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Makes me think about what it might be like when we get home. What our mornings might be like when there’s nothing to get in our way.”

“Well, I think there might be some lazy mornings in bed,” pressing his nose against her cheek, she could feel his grin widen against her skin, mustache tickling her slightly. “Maybe coffee beneath the sheets, and breakfast could be more than a donut on my way out to the hardstand.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.” Val’s voice was soft, the words colored with wonder at how intricately Everett had crafted his post-war dream. Sure, she knew she dreamed of it often, but she hadn’t expected him to have it all mapped out, and so perfectly.

“Why do you always sound so surprised, hmm?”

With a laugh he brought their intertwined right hands up, gently kissing her knuckles before wrapping both his arms, and her own, around her waist. Gently nuzzling this face into her neck he breathed in deeply, the scent of her perfume and the oil from the donuts filling the space around him. A scent that was so uniquely Valencia he thought there couldn’t possibly be anything better until she turned and wrapped her arms around his neck. Now, it was her turn to nuzzle into his warmth; even though the Clubmobile was a hot box, only Everett could thaw the chill deep in her bones.

“Hmm?”

“Hmm, what?” She posed the question back to him playfully.

“You never answered my question,” he shook his head. “Why do you always sound so surprised?”

“I thought it was my job to daydream of happy ever after…”

“You can,” he tugged her closer. “But I already told you, you’re it for me. So, it crosses my mind more often than you’d think.”

“What else crosses your mind?” She tried not to think about how her mind immediately jumped to the how he could possibly want all of this with her, as opposed to the why. That being, he was not the man who hurt her, he was the man who loved her.

“Suddenly so interested…” he teased, pinching her waist gently.

“Well now that I know…”

“I think about where we might live, what we’ll do when this is all over…” he pressed his lips to her forehead, swaying her even though there was no music. “A couple of kids, if you want them…”

“Yes,” the word slipped out before she could stop it. The thought of life so peaceful with Everett making her want to go and end the war herself. “I think about that too.”

“Which part?”

“All of it.”

“One day, baby. I promise.”

He continued to sway her as she rested her head against his chest, gaze falling to the open hatch on the side of the truck. The sun was peeking over the horizon now, and life was beginning to stir around them. The far off shouts of the ground crews, the gravel under the boots of men as they trudged from their rack to the mess hall, the grumble of Chick Harding as Meatball got caught under foot on his way from Operations. This was life now. She had spent so long thinking they had to get through the war before getting to the good stuff, but this was good stuff. A quiet morning, the man holding her, their friends, her dreams. It was all coffee and donuts and happy ever after.

Tag List: @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @bobparkhurst @rosiesriveter @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @prettyinlimegreenboots @manonsmanicmind @precious-little-scoundrel @beingalive1 @ptvstvrrr

[blakelysco-pilot]

Eight to The Bar: a story of finding love between coffee and donuts during World War II

Featuring Gene Tierney as Valencia DiRosano

Meet Val DiRosano (officially). She’ll be returning to The Clubmobile in the coming weeks to serve up fresh coffee and donuts, while navigating the hardest part of the war she’s experienced so far. The next chapter of Eight to The Bar coming soon!

Tag List: @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @bobparkhurst @rosiesriveter @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @prettyinlimegreenboots @manonsmanicmind @precious-little-scoundrel @beingalive1 @ptvstvrrr

[blakelysco-pilot]

The Wee Small Hours of The Morning

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

Everett Blakely x Valencia DiRosano (OC)

Is God so cruel as to take away the only family someone has? War is rough on everyone involved, even the ones who remain on the ground while the boys go up. Sometimes it takes more than a good luck kiss, and the skill of an excellent pilot. It takes old traditions, a few prayers and friends looking out for you. Santa Maria, Pray for Us.

Part Three

Follow along with the Eight to The Bar Playlist

A/N: This chapter contains 18+ themes & situations. Minors DNI.

That damn red mission light was a constant reminder of the war that was currently raging on outside the walls of Thorpe Abbotts. That stolen moments and solace sought in the shelter of the Officers Club, in the arms of someone who you adored, were small luxuries. You couldn’t count on them always being there, so you took advantage while you could. So long as the war raged on in the skies, Val understood this, much as it pained her. Watching Everett go off with Douglass and Benny, knowing it was only a matter of hours before she’d wave him off from the safety of the Clubmobile; she’d watch from a distance as his flying fortress took off into the sky, breath caught in her throat. 

Lighting a cigarette, Val resolves to find a moment's peace before she has to make her way to bed. The few hours of sleep before her day would begin beckons her, but she knows it’ll be a restless sleep if she doesn’t take the time to clear her head, and find peace before Everett is in the air. The door of the club opens, and she see’s Olive come around the corner to take the place that Everett had previously occupied, patting her pockets looking for her cigarettes, but coming up short. 

“There you are,” Olive turns to her. “When the light went on I was looking for you but didn't see you in the club.”

“Ev and I took a walk… You ready for bed, doll?” Val asks, handing her the cigarette she’s currently smoking.

“Not yet, Val,” Olive sighs, taking a puff. “Tonight was kind of overwhelming. Need to take a walk.”

“Sure thing, Ol,” Val nods, understanding the need to clear her head more than anymore. “See you in there, okay? Be careful.”

“I’m always careful,” She nods, giving Val a brief hug and kissing her gently on the cheek. Olive passes the cigarette back to her before asking her what has become the question of the evening, as far as Val is concerned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She says, taking one last drag before stubbing out the cigarette against the wall of the club. “I had a good talk with Ev and I feel much better.” 

She crosses her arms in order to shield herself from the cold British air, still not quite used to it. It bites a lot more than a Brooklyn breeze. She had told her friend the night prior. Bites you right on the ass, and for what. 

“This isn’t going to get easier, is it?” Olive asks, looking out into the night sky. “The worrying, the constant knot in my stomach every time I see that damn red light.” 

“No, it doesn’t,” She says pointedly, brow furrowing as she thought back to moments prior when Everett had been pulled away from her. “But then you see him again and the relief, God, there’s nothing like it. Someone should bottle that feeling and sell it. They’d be a millionaire, Olive.” 

“I didn’t plan on feeling like this…for anyone. Here or my–” Val looks at her, urging her to continue, but when she doesn’t, she knows then that Olive is thinking about Benny and Douglass. 

“That’s what this war has done, doll. Mess up all our plans.” She pushes her body back from the wall and starts to walk towards their hut, looking back over her shoulder at her friend. “That’s a story for another night, though. Are you still taking that walk?” 

Olive nods, and Val gives her a smile. Beginning her walk back, she suddenly turns back to Olive who’s still standing in the same place. 

“I’ll leave water on your side table,” She gives her a wink. “Prevent the hangover.”

“Thanks Val, “ Olive smiles, but suddenly remembers that she had left Helen inside when she ventured out, Tattie already back at their hut. “Wait, where’s Helen?”

“Curt offered to walk her back.” She says with a roll of her eyes. 

“Oop!” Olive giggles. “Is Curt suddenly keen on our girl?”

“Curt is keen on everyone,” Val shakes her head knowingly. “But Helen’s not keen on him like that. She’s a smart cookie, and far too sweet for that pain in the ass.”

“She’d also never live it down if she got the clap from him.”

“Olive, I’d kill him if he even tried it with Helen.” Val grinned, turning back in the direction of the hut and finally making her way to bed. 

Still restless even after she had changed, and gotten into bed, Val couldn’t quite keep her mind from wandering. Switching on the small light above her bed, she quietly opened the drawer of her side table, and pulled out her sewing kit. Rifling through the bag for her red spool of thread and scissors, she began pulling until she had three pieces. Her hands moved effortlessly, a task she had been doing since she was a child. Tying off one end, she held the top firmly before braiding down the length of the thread. Right over the middle, left over the  middle, and repeat. Fingers moving deftly, she repeated this entire process two more times until she had three braids, all tied off neatly at the end. A tail of string left on each to be tied to the top end. If her mother could see her, she’d scold her for not sleeping, for letting her mind get the better of her in such times when all she could do was pray. She’d argue that idle hands were the devils playground even at night.  

Eyes finally beginning to droop, she stashed the spool of thread and scissors, turned the light off, and fell into a restless sleep filled with dreams of hazel eyes and the future. One day, maybe they’d get to live in the luxury of waking up together without the threat of war hanging over their heads. Dreams of Everett and home, wherever they might choose, and dinners shared over a kitchen table instead of a mess hall. She had been so deep in her dream that she hadn’t heard the door open or Olive creep into the hut. 

It was all hurry up and rush when morning rolled around. The four women scattered around their nissen hut in various states of undress as they all worked to get ready and head to the Clubmobile. They were always up a bit before the boys, needing to get the donuts warm, coffee perking and other sundries set up on the truck. With the mission light going off the night prior, she could only imagine what state the boys would be trudging up to the truck in. She doesn't think many of them slept through the night, if her own restlessness was anything to go on. Helen and Tattie had woken up as bleary eyed as she had, and Olive had fallen asleep in her clothes, the poor thing. 

Stacking the candy bars while Helen sorted the cups, she heard a familiar bark carry across the tannoy, and couldn’t help but smirk. Casting a glance over at Olive, she sees her filling one of the carafes with fresh coffee, idly chatting with Tattie about their switching dance partners the night before. 

“Ol!” She called out with a smile, watching as Meatball pulled his owner towards the Clubmobile like he was on a mission. “Benny…”

Benny offered her a wave and a smile as he waited for Olive, which Val kindly returned. Benny was a good guy, a fellow Italian, and as far as she was concerned, that made him aces in her book. 

“Ciao Benny!” Val grinned, loving any excuse to stretch her legs by speaking Italian. “And Meatball!”

“Ciao,” The pilot chuckled, crouching to scratch behind the dog's ears. “Meatball, say good morning to Val. Go on, say Ciao Valencia!”

Meatball only offered a bark to the woman in the window of the truck, which was good enough for all parties concerned. Checking to see if anyone was looking, she reached under the counter and pulled out a donut she had stashed, signaling to Meatball and tossing it down to him. Laughing as he caught it in his mouth, she saw Olive come around to the front of the truck, a smile on her face as she greeted her suitor and his dog in that friendly way she greeted everyone. 

Of course Meatball would remain with them while the boys went up today. It was becoming a common occurrence that he’d start out with the Red Cross girls, before being run over to Kenny and Winks on the hardstand for a little exercise while the girls cleaned up and got the interrogation hut ready for the boys return. She’d just barely heard Benny try to coax an early cup of coffee out of Olive when a soft knock sounded on the open door of the truck. She half expected to see Chick, or someone who she’d actually have to give the early coffee to, but instead there was Ev and Dougie, one with a shit eating grin on his face and the other smiling softly at her. She made a move to greet them when Douglass lifted his finger to his lips, jerking his head in the direction of Olive, mischief bright in his already bright blue eyes. 

“You’re fresh!” Val had whispered to him once she was close enough. 

Everett could only shake his head at his friend’s antics and watch as Dougie waited with bated breath for Olive to turn back to the truck and make her way inside. 

“Good boy, Meatball.” Olive spoke sweetly to the dog, and Val could hear the lead clanging against the pole outside the truck as Olive tied him securely. 

Dougie grinned, and turned on his heel just as Olive rounded the corner, his hands jutting out and tickling her as her eyes went wide and she jumped in shock. 

“James Douglass!”

Dougie was apologizing profusely, that mischievous smile still gracing his face, as Everett took the three short steps up into the truck. 

“Morning, pretty girl.” He wasted no time in pulling her close for a kiss, despite Helen’s protests that they take it elsewhere as she shuffled past them and outside. 

“Hmm, now it is.” She grinned, dropping her forehead against his chest, arms wrapped around him. 

“You alright?”

“Still sleepy, that’s all.” She mumbled, face pressed against his chest. 

“Honey, did you sleep at all last night?”

“A little,” She sighed. “When I did fall asleep, it was a bit restless.”

She could feel him heave a deep sigh as his hands rubbed up and down her back, 

“Maybe tonight we just lay low, hmm? We can go out to the fort and sit on the wing if you want…”

“Can we sneak a cocktail out like last time?” She peered up at him, eyes wide and red lips stretched into a smile he could never say no to. 

“Sure, if that’s what you want, I’ll make it happen.”

“Make Kenny leave the stairs out this time.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” He winked. 

Leaning back out of the truck, he saw that Dougie and Olive were still occupied, Meatball looking on dutifully. 

“Oh, I’ve got something for you!” Val stepped back, reaching into her pocket. 

She pulled out one of the braids she had made the night before, grinning as she held it up for him. 

“What’s that?” Ev looked at her curiously as she took his left hand in hers. 

“In Italian culture, red is a sign of protection. I couldn’t sleep last night and so, braided a few of these for you boys.”

“Protection?”

“The color red keeps bad things at bay,” She spoke softly, tying the braid around his left wrist, right behind his watch. “My Nonna taught me how to braid these when I was little, and it’s always been something I do when I can’t settle down. I want you to be protected up there, Everett.” 

“Thank you,” He grinned, taking her face in his hands and kissing her lips sweetly. “It’s better than any good luck charm I’ve got.”

“Don’t take it off. When it breaks on its own, that means it’s time for a new one. Okay?”

“You’re the boss, baby,” He grinned. “You said you made them for the boys?”

“One for Dougie and another one for Curt.”

“He goes through them a lot then?”

“Well, he is Curt.”

Dougie’s head came around the back of the truck before Everett could reply, spying his friends deep in conversation, he felt bad for disturbing them. 

“Ev, we gotta go. Briefing starts soon.”

“Alright.” He nodded, squeezing Val once more before stepping back. “Dougie, c’mere.”

Eyebrows raised at his friend’s request, the bombardier came to stand at the entrance of the truck, as Val met him at the bottom of the steps. 

“Left hand, please.” She smiled, pulling the second braid from her pocket and securing it the same way she had with Everett’s.

“What’s this?” He looked down at her, brows knit together in intrigue. 

“Ev will explain, okay?”

“Ten four, Ma’am.” He nodded, giving her that sloppy two finger salute he was famous for. 

“Get out of here, Doug. Coffee will be waiting when you boys are done.”

Nodding, Dougie let the thumb of his opposite hand ghost over the thread a moment before grinning and heading back in the direction of where Olive was now talking to Helen. 

Everett grinned, before giving her a not so subtle wink, and followed Doug to the briefing room. 

It wasn’t long before Meatball had started getting antsy, tugging on his lead as if he knew that Benny was in the hut across the way. The lead rattling against the pole Olive had him tied to every ten seconds as he tries to make a valiant attempt at a jail break. 

“Come on, fella,” Olive laughs, taking mercy on the poor dog and untying him. “Want to throw the ball?”

The coveted four letter word starting with B piques his interest immediately as he begins to pant excitedly, jumping back onto his hind legs. His excitement only grows when he sees Olive pull the ball from her pocket. She tosses it gently, keeping it close to the Clubmobile so that Meatball doesn’t run off. 

“Why don’t you go over to the hardstand?” Val calls from the hatch of the truck, waiting while a fresh pot of coffee brews for the boys. 

“I don’t want to have to traipse all the way over there just to have to come back in ten minutes,” Olive calls back to her. “I want to see them before they go.”

“Anyone in particular you want to see” Val teases as she rounds the front of the truck, joining Olive and Meatball in their little game. 

“Hush it up, DiRosano.” Olive winks at her.  Handing her the ball so that she can join in, Meatball comes to stand in front of Val, his front paws suddenly up on her chest as he tries to get the ball from her. 

“At least he’s behaving today,” Val rolls her eyes as Meatball finally jumps down from where he’d tried to take her down. She throws the ball for him, putting a little more effort behind it than she had meant to, causing the ball to miss the ground completely and fly through the door of the briefing room. Meatball is after it like a shot out of a cannon, not listening as she pleads with him to stop. Tattie was right, she was going to kill DeMarco.  

“Shit!” Val says, trying not to panic as the reality of what just happened sinks in. “Damn dog!” 

“Fuck sake, Spud Chandler!” Olive sighs, hand clapping over her eyes as she races after Meatball and Val races after her. 

They come to a halt just outside the door, Val slamming into Olive’s back as she comes to a vault, spotting Meatball right outside the door, sitting and waiting patiently for his next command. 

“Stay right there, buddy,” Olive pleads, hands up and walking towards him. 

His response is to sniff the air, and as if he could smell Benny inside the room with all the other men and their cigarette smoke, he bounds through the door with what she could only describe as the greatest of ease. 

“Meatball!” Olive whispers, her voice low and stern as she moves to follow him into the briefing room.

“Olive, for fuck sake!. Don’t go in there!” “But the dog! And the ball!” Olive tries to argue, knowing Chick would have a stroke if Meatball so much as disturbed their briefing. 

Val can’t help but sigh, pinching the bridge of her nose as her brows furrow in defeat, mumbling something under her breath in Italian. The ball and the dog were both in there, and if they didn’t hurry, an angry Chick Harding would also be in there.  

“We should be alright. It’s nothing I won’t tell you in a few weeks when I type up the report for this,” She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Olive or herself. “We get the dog, apologize, and get the hell out of there, got it?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Olive gives her exactly the same two finger salute that James Douglass is famous for, and she can’t help but roll her eyes. Birds of a fucking feather it seemed. 

“Good. Now show me your prettiest smile.” She looks at Olive, hands on her hips, waiting for her to give a smile. When she finally does, Val thinks maybe they have a shot at this. 

“Gorgeous, doll!”

“What’s it for?” Olive asks, relaxing her face and massaging her cheeks for a second.

“Oh, that’s for when Chicky catches us in there and ultimately tells us off.”

—————————————————

“U-Boat pens in Trondheim, Norway!” Chick hollers, standing upon the makeshift stage as the curtain is pulled back to reveal a map. The men in the room cheer in equal enthusiasm, lighting cigarettes and eagerly awaiting the details of the mission ahead of them. 

Val and Olive stand in the back of the room, Meatball now in their grasp, they make to turn and leave just as quickly as they came, when Chick announces the details of the mission, and the fort in charge of leading the wing. 

“Major Egan will be Command Pilot in Blakely’s fort.” He announces, and as John Egan turns back to make eye contact with Everett, he does a double take at the two figures standing in the back of the room. Val quickly shakes her head, begging him not to say anything, and she’s relieved to see him turn back around and give his attention to the map in front of him. Still, she can’t help but beam with pride, whispering a little that’s my guy as she realizes Everett is in charge of leading all of the men in the room into today’s battle. Just as she moves to grab Meatball’s collar and lead him from the room, the dog lets loose a bark that she’s sure Doc Stover could hear in the medical hut, and she immediately winces. 

Silence falls over the room, and Chick, who had been lighting his first cigar of the day, turned to look up, eyes narrowing in annoyance. 

“What in the hell is that dog doin’ in here?” His eyes find Benny DeMarco first, and upon realizing that Benny is not in possession of said dog, focuses his gaze on the back of the room. 

“Shit,” Olive and Val murmur in unison. “Might need that smile sooner than we thought, doll.”

“Fuck sake, Valencia,” Olive groans, shaking her head.

“Don’t blame me!” She nervously chuckles. “Blame that damn dog.”

“Oh, I am, believe me.” Olive sighs just as Chick walks up to the pair of them. 

“Girls!” Chick scolds. “You shouldn’t be in here.” “We’re sorry, Colonel,” Olive says, putting her nice British manners to good use. “The dog…”

“I don’t care,” He says, his voice slightly raised and causing the crowd to look in their direction. Val just manages to catch Curt and Everett looking in their direction. “Get outta here.”

“Yes sir.” Olive replies shakily. 

Val can immediately sense the tension rolling off of her as her eyes glaze over. She gives Olive’s hand a quick squeeze before squaring her shoulders and facing Chick head on. 

“Chicky,” Val speaks firmly, her tone not one to be mistaken for a damsel in distress. “I threw the ball too hard, it’s my fault Meatball ran in here. You know we wouldn’t have come just for fun.” She’s trying her best to be firm, but also butter him up at the same time. Tucking an errant curl back into her headscarf, Val gives what can only be described as a brilliant smile, and if Olive’s snort disguised as a cough is anything to go on, she’s doing a damn good job of it. 

“Alright, girls,” He softens, pointing his cigar in their direction as Red carries on with the briefing,  the Massachusetts native describing something being shown on the projector in an attempt to get the men to stop focusing on the girls and back on the mission. “I’ll let y’all off, but don’t let me catch you in here again.”

“You got it, Chicky.” Val grins, giving his shoulder a friendly pat. 

“And stop calling me Chicky.” He groans, turning back towards where he had been originally so he could join Red. “Not a chance!” Val calls back, tugging both Olive and Meatball with her out the door, grateful to have avoided what could have been real trouble for the pair of them, and the damn dog. 

Val’s pouring a cup of coffee when she hears her name being called. Looking up, she spots Everett looking less than pleased, hands on his hips and brows pinched together as if he’d taken a page out of her book. Mentally filing away how handsome he looks in that moment, she gives him her full attention. 

“Val, you got a second?”

“Yes, honey,” The words saccharine sweet as she moves past Olive. With a roll of her eyes, she turns before descending the steps. “I’m in trouble.”

“You look far too excited at that prospect, Val.” Olive shakes her head, knowing her friend. 

“You never know what the consequences might be.” She winks as she reaches the bottom step. 

“What was all that about?” Everett looks down at her, hands still on his hips. 

“You mean back there?”

“Valencia, please…” He sighed, and at his use of her full name, her eyes snapped up to his, blazing. 

“Are you mad at me?” The question came out sharp, her eyebrows meeting her hairline. “For that?!”

“I’m not mad,” He softened his gaze, waiting for her to do the same. “I just…”

“Everett…”

“I just want to shield you from as much as possible. Protect you, the way you want to protect me.”

“Sweetheart, I’ll see all of that in a few days when Harding pulls me in to type it up for him.”

“I know that, but, if you can go a few more days without seeing it.”

“Baby, I’m going to worry whether I know where it is you’re going or not. Nothing will change that until this war is over.”

“Just, don’t go sneaking into the briefing room again, okay?”

“That’s on you then, if Meatball gets in and Harding goes nuts.” 

“No, that’s on Benny,” Everett winked, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her flush against his side. “Now, how about a cup of coffee and a good luck kiss.”

“In that order, Captain?” She peered up at him. 

“Please.” Leaning down, he stole a kiss from her, just as Dougie and Olive were making their way to the truck. 

They couldn’t wait around, the girls had poured their coffee quickly, and just as Val handed Everett’s cup off to him, Bubbles had come up to the truck wrapped in a blanket, his flight gear underneath, and shivering up a storm. 

“Bubbles?” Helen looked at him, nudging Val to join her at the window. 

“Holy shit, Bubbles, you can’t fly!” Val exclaimed, getting the attention of both Everett and Douglass. 

“I can, Miss. Val, don’t you worry.” His teeth chattering together as he spoke, skin turning paler as the seconds passed. 

“Bubbles, not for nothing but I’m tired of being told not to worry.”

“Bubbles, she’s right, you’re not going up,” Everett came to stand next to him, his face displaying sympathy for his sick navigator but worried over who would be in the seat if he wasn’t. “Fuck…”

Just then, John Egan came strolling over for his pre-flight coffee and, if Val had to guess, a pack of cigarettes or gum. She gestured to Helen to get his coffee ready while she dug around under the window for a pack of Lucky Strikes and some Juicy Fruit. 

“Bucky.” She grinned, the cigarettes in one hand and gum in the other, and extended them to him. 

“Your girl’s a peach, Blakely, you know that?” Bucky chuckled, taking both of the offered items before pocketing them so he could retrieve his coffee from Helen. 

“She sure is,” Everett smiled, before turning to face John Egan with concern. “We’ve got a problem, though, Major.”

“What?” 

“Bubbles,” Everett gestured to the shivering navigator who Douglass was practically keeping upright at this point. “Sick as a dog.”

“I can fly…” 

“The hell you can,” Bucky sighed, looking back at Everett. “Who else we got?”

In the end, it had been Harry Crosby to replace Bubbles in Just-A Snappin’s navigator seat. The brown eyed man’s nerves caused him to shiver just as badly as Bubbles had before he was carted off to Doc Stover in the med hut. After the boys had dispersed from the truck, Val had found a brief moment to breathe before Curt was bounding over to her, crush cap at a jaunty angle, grin on his face. 

“The last thing you need is caffeine!” She had scolded him, handing the coffee over anyway. 

“Need to see my best pal!” 

“Don’t let Dickie hear you say that.” She shook her head, knowing Dickie could most definitely hear him from where he stood getting his coffee from Helen. 

“I know where I rank, Val, don’t you worry. You’re still his number one.” Dickie laughed, thanking Helen for the coffee before walking past and heading for the truck. 

“Lucky me,” She rolled her eyes. “Hey, hold on Curt.”

“Yea?”

“Here…” She handed over the braid identical to the ones she had given Ev and Dougie earlier, watching as his grin nearly split his face. 

“Rough night,” He mused. “How’d you know?”

“I know you Curt. Now go on, be safe up there, please.”

“See you in a jiff, Pal.” He waved, jogging to catch up with Dickie and the rest of his crew. She could just make out Curt asking Dickie to tie the red string around his wrist as the truck peeled away with him and his crew in the back. Santa Maria please protect my boys. 

——————————————

It had been a morning. Olive had decided, with all the excitement of the morning, to take Meatball down to the hardstand so that he could run around with Kenny and Winks. She had snagged two of the leftover donuts for the ground crew boys and headed off, leaving Val, and Helen to clean up the truck. Tattie was with the Supply Officer trying to figure out what they could and couldn’t get, and leave the girls’ list with him in the hopes that they’d get what they needed. 

Helen was packing up the donuts that had been left, and was brewing a fresh pot of coffee just for the girls, one for the boys already brewed and in the Interrogation Hut, when Val had decided to start wiping down the counters and putting away some of the sundries. A cigarette wedged between her teeth, she began scrubbing the countertop, wiping away the spilled sugar and milk, pushing the crushed and empty cups into the trash, and repeating the process all over again. Still uneasy from the night before, her mind going over and over the conversation she had with Everett outside the club. She kept going back to him saying we can be scared together, and she truly believed him. She was scared on the ground, and he was without a doubt, scared more than her up in the sky. 

She hadn’t heard Olive come back, or her footsteps as she climbed back into the truck. She just barely heard her calling her name. 

“Valencia,” Olive urges for a third time, a plume of smoke escaping her mouth as she speaks. “You’ve already done that one.”

“R-right.” She stutters, wiping her wet hands on her jumpsuit. She watches as Olive stubs out her own cigarette and starts carrying the donuts Helen had been organizing into the interrogation room. Val immediately darts toward her to grab them. 

“I got it, Val,” She soothes, holding the tray to her body. “Just get the door for me.”

“Got it!” She replies, voice a couple of octaves higher than what she normally sounds like. 

“You okay, chicken?” Olive turns to her after she’s placed the tray on the table. 

“Yeah. Just anxious.” Val takes a long pull from her cigarette, surprised it hasn’t burned out yet, before slumping back against the wall. The waiting was the worst. 

“I know, but they'll be okay. They're going to be back before you know it.” Olive tries to reassure her as best she can, but Val can see the fear behind her eyes, and knows for a moment that she’s not alone. 

Tattie wandered in on the heels of their chat, eyes falling on the table set with the donuts for the boys, and smiling at the work her girls had done. 

“Thanks, Ol,” She says, patting her on the shoulder before turning to Val. “Val, can you set out the whiskey?”

“Sure, I'm on it!” She replies, the words rushing out of her mouth, her body tight with the same anxiety they all see in Harry Crosby. 

“Need a hand?” Helen strolls in, setting cream and sugar next to the coffee she had put out earlier. 

“I've got it, thanks Helen.” Val grins at her, picking up a glass to wipe down. 

When the familiar, loud rumble is heard in the distance, Val watches as Olive steps outside momentarily, before hearing Smokey shout over the noise. 

“I see em!” He yells, his hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Val, they're back!” Olive calls to her, poking her head in from the doorway. 

Val stops suddenly, the glass slipping from her hands and shattering into pieces on the floor.

“Oh fuck!” She groans. She bends down to begin picking up the shards, when Olive is suddenly at her side, swatting her hand away from the broken glass. 

“Leave it,” She says softly. “I'll clean it.” Taking the cloth from Val’s hand, she grips her arm for a moment, the two sharing a look. 

“Go,” She murmurs. “Go see him.”

She feels as if her whole chest might cave in if she waits any longer to see Everett and Curt. 

“Helen, go with her, please,” Olive motions for her to join Val, before speaking the next part softly, only for Helen to hear. “Just in case.” 

“What about you?” Helen raises an eyebrow at her knowingly. 

“I'm just fine here.” She reassures her, but both Val and Helen can see that her eyes are telling a different story. Helen nods, threading her arm through Val’s before grinning at Olive, making her way to the door. 

“We'll be right back.”

Once outside, Val begins to count the number of planes she sees coming into view. The rumble grows louder the closer they get to the runway, she watches as one, two, three… her grip on Helen’s hand tightening as she sees the rest of them approach. Eight, nine, ten… 

“He’ll be here, honey, don’t you worry.” Helen turns to her, her big brown eyes full of hope, and Val can’t help but smile. 

“Not sure what I’d do without you,” Val sighs, gaze  now focused on where the trucks are approaching. “Without any of you.”

“Oh stop, we’ve all got each other.”

The first truck rolled to a stop at the bottom of the approach to the hut, and Val had to squint in the sun to see who it was. It was Gale Cleven and Benny, the pair looking utterly exhausted as they trudged towards the hut. Benny offered the girls a wave and a half smile, Val nodding her head towards the door. 

“She’s inside…”

“Thanks Val.” 

Benny disappeared through the door, and Val watched as the next group of men headed their way, all looking much the same as Buck and DeMarco. Crank, John Brady and their respective crews were next, all shuffling into the hut for a moment of respite. Doc Stover was at the door giving each man the once over before allowing them through, and Val could just make out the sound of someone grumbling at being told to report to the hospital after interrogation. 

“Where are they…” She murmured  under her breath. “Come on boys, please.”

“Hey, hey, look…” Helen was pointing out towards the approach, a smile on her face as she Val clocked Everett jump from the truck, hat in his hand, hair mused and curls falling over his forehead. That damn Lucky Strike tucked behind his ear. 

“Oh thank god!” Val heaved a sigh at the sight of him, body relaxing for only a moment. 

As Everett approached, Val released her grip on Helen just as Everett threw his arm over her shoulder. A heavy sigh, different from the one in the Clubmobile this morning, left his body. His lips pressed to the top of her head softly as he guided her away from the door, towards where it was a bit quieter. 

“Give us a minute, Helen?” Everett asked her, and Val could tell something had happened up there. 

“I’ll have a drink waiting for you, Ev.” Helen nodded, making her way back into the hut to join Olive and Tattie. 

“Ev?” 

“I need to tell you something,” He spoke lowly. “And I need you to listen before you react, okay?”

“You’re scaring me…”

“Curt wasn’t with us on the return.” 

Her entire body ran ice cold at the words, the breath leaving her as if someone had pushed a pin in her lungs and released all of the air. Curt? Reckless as he may be on the ground, she couldn’t imagine him doing anything stupid while he was up in the air, least of all, not coming back. 

“His fort took a lot of damage,” Everett continued. “He had a few engine fires, and there was so much flak up there…”

“Is he…did he…”

“We got him over Scotland,” Ev grabbed her hands to stop them from shaking. “Croz was amazing, and plotted a whole route so that Curt could put his fort down over land, somewhere safe.”

“Scotland…”

“The last we heard over the radios, he was making an approach to crash land.”

“Did you see him land?”

“No, I didn’t,” He sighed. “I’m sorry, I wish I knew more honey.”

“Oh god.” Her voice sounded far away, her mind swimming with every possibility of where Curt could be. If he was alive, safe, had he been captured. Was Scotland really the best place for him to land? What did she know? She wasn’t the pilot, she was the coffee and donuts girl.

“Come on…” 

She just barely registered that Everett was leading her inside. Didn’t pick up Olive calling her name yet again, or the whiskey glass being pressed into her hand. She felt completely numb, and would be, until Curt came strolling back up to her with that stupid grin on his face. God wouldn’t be so cruel as to take away the only person resembling a sibling in her life, in such a way, would he? Santa Maria, please protect him. 

She’s not sure how, but she finds herself sitting in the Officers Club with the girls that night. Vaguely, she remembers Olive walking her outside after Everett had been ushered into interrogation by Chicky, and worrying her mothers Rosary beads between her fingers as she smoked half a pack of cigarettes back in their hut. She’s not sure how she managed to get ready, but when she exited the hut, Everett, Dougie and Harry Crosby were waiting outside for her, Helen and Olive.The walk had been silent, Val tucked under Everett’s arm as they entered the club and sought out their usual table. 

Now, she sat with her fourth fifth drink in front of her, Everett seemingly always there with a new one as soon as she’s taken the last sip. 

The girls were doing their best to keep her mind occupied on anything other than waiting for news on Curt, and even Benny had dropped Meatball off at the table; the Husky immediately sensing that something wasn’t right with his favorite girls. The band played on as usual, music filling every corner of the club, so she was surprised when she heard Red’s voice carry across the room, hollering for Buck Cleven. She’s even more surprised when Everett comes back from the bar empty handed, his eyes brighter than she’d seen them since he landed that afternoon. 

“Come on…” He urges, taking her hand and moving to pull her up from the chair. 

“What? Ev, what!” 

Before he can answer her, she hears Buck Cleven’s voice booming from where he’s standing at the bar, one word to end all of her troubles. 

“Curt!”

Val stands so abruptly, the chair tips backward and clatters to the floor but she doesn’t care. All she cares about is that Everett is pulling her towards the bar where Gale Cleven holds the receiver of the phone between his ear and Bucky’s; the pair of them are yelling frantically down the phone. 

“It’s gonna be cold tonight, Curt!” Bucky yells. 

“John says he misses his little spoon!” Gale shouts down the line, and she can’t help but roll her eyes at the antics of the boys. 

Everett moves to get Bucky’s attention gesturing for him to hand the phone over to Val before either of the two Buck’s decide to hang up. Bucky’s hand grabs Gale’s wrist, and pulls the receiver from his grasp before handing it over to Valencia. 

“Curt!”

“Did I worry ya too much?”

“Please tell me you’re in one piece and that I don’t have to write home…”

“All pieces accounted for, Val, I promise.”

“Good. Are you safe?”

“Safe and well on my way to being drunk.”

“Christ sake. Well then, go on, get drunk with your new friends.”

“You’re my number one, always. Hey, thanks for the bit of red. Saved my life.”

Ev places a kiss to her temple just as she hangs up, having heard most of the conversation. Val grins as she turns to Bucky and Gale, both of them watching her with a fondness she was sure she had never seen on either of their faces. At least not directed towards her. Throwing an arm around each of them, she hugged them close, because she knew it was Bucky in the Command Pilot’s seat that day, and Gale who had alerted the rest of the wing to Curt’s fort slowing down, thus sticking with him to the end. 

“Well?!” Helen’s eyes were wide as Val and Everett made their way back to the table, cocktails in hand and smiles on their faces. 

“He’s safe,” Val breathed out another sigh of relief before rolling her eyes. “And drunk with his Scottish hosts.”

“Of course he is.” Tattie shook her head, but smiled as she ticked off a win for their group in her mind. More moments like this. There should be more of them. 

“Drink up!” Ev raised his glass, their friends joining him. 

“To that pain in my ass!” Val cheered. 

The night rolls on and five cocktails turn into seven. Val has moved from her chair to Everett’s lap, a cigarette in one hand and the other holding his. When he didn’t have her out on the dance floor cutting a rug, they were with their friends. Even Meatball had perked up, and was currently vying for attention from everyone. The news of Curt’s safety spread amongst the rest of the men, and the atmosphere in the club seems to be charged with lightning. Everyone's a little brighter, more relaxed, smiling a little wider. 

“Bike race in the mess hall!” Graham comes hurtling around the corner, arms flailing as he yells into the crowd. “Who’s in?”

A chorus of agreements and hollers as the men in the club leave their drinks and descend on the mess hall. Val clambers from Everett’s lap, giving him a wink as she grabs Olive with one hand and Helen with the other. The three of them run in the direction of the crowd, giggling the entire way. They push their way into the mess hall, cheeks red and eyes bright as they try to find a good spot to view the race. Tattie joins them a moment later, drink in hand and face just as red as the rest of them in excitement as they settle against the wall. 

The boys are all pushing their way in with their bikes, the sound of shouts and tires screeching against the linoleum filling the air as one of the men not racing begins collecting money from the onlookers. They see Everett, Benny and Douglass all push their way as close to the front as they can get, Croz already on his bike. When Douglass spots the girls, he hollers over to Benny in a bid to get Olive’s attention. 

“Hey DeMarco!” He yells, a few rows behind where Benny is. “Whoever wins gets to walk the pretty girl back!”

“You’re on, Doug!” Benny yells back, turning and giving Olive and the girls a cheeky grin. 

“Jesus Christ…” Val hears Olive sigh, and doesn’t need to look over to know she’s rolling her eyes in that British way she usually does. 

Val is watching Everett as he mounts his bike. Croz is on his left, the navigator struggling to find his balance on the bike as he grabs Douglass for support. If she hears Dougie ask Croz to give him a push ahead of Benny, she doesn’t say anything, wanting to see how it all plays out. She blows Ev a kiss and displays a cheeky smile for luck before she turns back towards the girls; just as Bucky Egan and Gale Cleven push their way to the front. 

“Rank has its privileges, boys!” Cleven calls over the din of the room, bumping shoulders with John Brady as he settles on his bike. 

“I see money changing hands,” Egan points over towards where the betting is taking place. “That better be going on me!”

Graham stands in front of the boys, whistling to get their attention before he begins giving them their route. 

“Alright, are y’all ready?!”

The crowd yells almost louder than before, and suddenly Graham’s got his pistol in the air, a single shot fired into the roof to signal the start of the race. 

“YEEHAW!” 

The boys all push off, Douglass yelling for Croz who’s wobbling on his bike as he yells with the rest of them GO GO GO. Egan and Cleven are in the lead, no surprise, while Brady is hot on Egan’s heels. Everett, Douglass and Benny are all neck and neck, Croz pulling up the rear. The four girls are shouting with all their might, throats raw from screaming for the boys, drinks sloshing around them and cigarettes burning unattended between their fingers. 

“Come on, Egan, ya lard ass!” Gale shouts, goading Bucky on to try and catch up to him as they begin their second lap out of the Officers Mess. 

Even Kidd and Veal, who’ve perched themselves off to the side, are getting into the excitement of the race. It’s when Cleven takes the last turn that he skids off his bike, crashing to the ground in a fit of laughter as Bucky topples off right behind him. The rest of the boys follow suit, all of them racing to their feet to try and cross the finish line first when a shrill siren cuts the atmosphere of the room like a knife. 

“Stop!” Jack Kidd yells, hopping off his perch and waving his long arms to get the attention of the crowd. “Don’t you hear the siren? Everyone to the shelters!”

Bikes forgotten on the ground, the boys all begin to move towards the exit, the girls all linking arms to stay together. They begin the walk towards the shelters, a hefty distance from where they currently are, when Dougie and Benny slide up on either side of Olive. Val watches, amused, until a pair of hands fall on her waist, pulling her flush against the chest of the owner. 

“Sneaking up on me?” She grins, though he can’t see it. 

“Not sure I could,” Ev whispers in her ear, leaving a gentle kiss to the underside of her jaw. “You’d smell my aftershave.”

Turning in his arms, Val allows him to guide her as she walks backward a few paces, her hands gripping his forearms. 

“Let’s go somewhere.” She grins wildly, curls falling from their usually perfectly pinned style, eyes shining. 

“Okay, sure,” He humors her. “Where should we go? Paris? Rome? New York?”

“Everett, come on, I’m being serious!” She gently slaps his arm. 

“So am I,” He smiles. ““Where do you want to go?”

“The mess hall, I’m starving. I skipped dinner.”

“Val…”

“Please, Ev? I want a snack…” 

“Jesus you’re adorable when you’re drunk sweetheart.” 

“Can I be adorable with a snack then, please?”

“Okay, let’s go.” He conceded, knowing she probably hadn’t eaten anything after finding out that Curt was somewhere else. The least he could do was make sure she didn’t go to bed hungry. 

——————————————————

Breaking off from the rest of the group, the pair of them began running hand in hand towards the opposite direction of the shelters, laughing like kids the entire time. Checking that no one was watching, they slipped back inside the now vacant mess hall; the only sign that it had been occupied were the bikes still on the ground and the lights that had remained on during the hasty exit. The only noise in the hut was the sound of Val’s heels on the floor and their laughter as they tried to catch their breath. Leading Everett towards where the girls always pack away any leftover donuts from the Clubmobile, she guides him through a door and into the kitchen. The moonlight is giving just enough light to see where they’re going, the kitchen dark, and unfamiliar territory to Everett. 

“There should be…” Val bends at the waist to pull out the covered box that usually sat in the Clubmobile. “Perfect!” 

“What’d you find?” Ev turns to her, taking the box from her hands to set it on the counter. 

“Donuts!”

“I’ll tell you what, sweetheart,” He pulled the towel off and tossed it to the side, snatching one from the box. “I did not think I’d be eating as many donuts during the war as I actually am.” 

“Well, I didn’t think I would be serving coffee and donuts to pilots, so I guess we’re both surprised at the outcome.” 

“What were you doing before all this?” Everett asked. 

“Suddenly he’s curious,” She teased. “I was a secretary, but don’t tell Chicky. For the Federal Reserve Bank.”

Hopping up on the counter, Val plucked the donut from Everett’s hand, breaking it in half before popping it into her mouth. Red lips pursed and eyes closed as she enjoyed her snack, she didn’t notice Everett move closer, standing between her legs, until his hands softly slid up her thighs. 

“Happy?” 

“Oh, I’m very happy,” Her eyes fluttered open, catching his gaze. Taking the other half of the donut, she brought it up to his mouth, holding it between two manicured fingers. “Are you happy?”

His answer came in the form of a bite of the food she was currently offering him, his lips grazing her fingers before pulling away, eyes never leaving hers. Waiting until there was no food in his mouth, he leaned in closer, fingers gripping her a little tighter. His lips just barely touched hers before they settled on the corner of her mouth. It was a gentle kiss, and when he pulled back, Val could see the glimmer in his hazel orbs and the smirk on his lips. 

“You had a crumb…” He kissed the other side of her mouth for good measure, not one to leave any spot untouched. 

She gazed up at him through her lashes, heat instantly pooling low in her belly. How could sharing a snack and a kiss cause her to feel emotions so strongly, that she wanted him to lay her out on the counter and have his way with her while no one was around. 

“Ev…”

“No one’s around to interrupt us this time.” He whispered, and she was sure he felt the shudder that ripped through her body from head to toe. 

“I think…” She breathed, trying with all her might to focus on the words that were on the tip of her tongue. His teeth gently closed over her earlobe, warm breath fanning across her cheek. 

“What do you think? Hmm?”

“That we should pick up where we left off.”

Her jacket was off in an instant as he kissed the air from her lungs. One hand holding the back of her neck, fingers tangled in what remained of the evening's hairdo as the other moved down the front of her blouse, unbuttoning each little white button painstakingly slow. Her hands made quick work of pulling his tie loose, his own jacket discarded somewhere before he had gotten to work on undressing her. Even in the dim lighting of the room, he’s able to clearly see the soft lines of her body as he pushed her shirt from her shoulders. The white lace of her brassiere standing out against her skin, breaths coming out harsh in the near silence of the room as she sat on the counter and continued to bring Everett to the same state of undress as she was. All she could think of was having her hands on him, feeling his skin under her palms, the ropes of muscle she knew were under his clothes every time he held her on the dance floor now exposed to her. 

It was a tentative first touch as she slid her hands up the planes of his chest, a smattering of soft hair just under his collar bones as she let herself explore what she could. Val could feel Everett’s eyes on her; his sharp hazel gaze watching as she let her hands roam across his skin, across his clavicle, down over his arms until she reached his hands. Those hands that made her feel safe every time they held hers; soft and gentle when they were together, skilled and agile when he was piloting his fort and keeping his crew safe. They were both of those things, and still she loved them most when they were holding her. Lifting his left hand, she began to pepper kisses to each of his fingers, appreciating one of her favorite parts of him without words. The part of him that kept her safe. Sharing with him feelings that she wasn’t sure she could put into words yet, because even she wasn’t sure how to explain it. Only that she felt content when he was near her, a feeling that evaded her for so long she wasn’t sure she’d ever feel it again. To finally feel it now, Val wanted to grab it with both hands and never let go. 

“Can I…?” Val looked up from her task, lips still pressed, unmoving, to the palm of his hand. His question sitting between them, heavy in the air. 

“Please…” It came out in a whisper, fading into a whine as his hands fell to her waist, tugging her closer to the edge of the counter so that he could do with her what she had done with him. 

Appreciating every dip and curve his eyes and mouth could find, Everett set to work with expressing his own feelings, deep and seated within him were words he too was not sure he could explain out loud, and still, he knew his actions could do it for him. His mouth blazed a trail from her lips, down the column of her throat, across her clavicle then over the swell of her breasts. The hands on her waist traveled a path almost identical to the one that night in his plane, stopping just short of where he had been dreaming of having them ever since she guided him there that first time. He felt like he had won the lottery when she helped guide him the rest of the way once more, her legs spreading just a bit wider to accommodate his body getting closer to her own. When she slid the straps of her brassiere down, gaze focused entirely on him, he became a man possessed. His hands moved to her back, mapping out the planes of her exposed skin until they settled on the clasp at the back of the delicate white garment shielding her from his eyes. Ducking his head down, his lips sucked a delicate mark at the juncture of her jaw, just below her ear, tongue laving over the spot just as his fingers slipped the clasp open, the lace falling slack and pooling between their bodies.

“My god,” He groaned, wanting to take in every detail, every breath she took as her body reacted to just his gaze. “Look at you. A god damn goddess.”

Val wasn’t sure words would suffice what she wanted him to do, so instead, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close, slanting her mouth over his and kissing him with every ounce of herself that she could muster. With his mouth occupied, Everett let his hands carefully slide over her, breasts filling his palms as if they were made just for him to hold. She moaned into his mouth as his thumbs brushed over her already pebbled nipples, and so he did it again and again if only to hear the sweet sounds she made.

“Beautiful,” He growled, with his face nuzzled into the juncture of her neck and shoulder, he paid close attention as she reacted to his touch. “You and those sweet sounds you make.”

“Ev…” She breathed his name, head tipping back as he gave her a gentle pinch before softening his touch once more. 

“I wonder what other sounds I can pull from you, sweetheart.”

“Yes…please.” 

Slowly, as if he was afraid to scare her away, he dropped one hand to her waist before letting it slide down to her thigh. With her skirt riding up on its own, his fingers gently teased the exposed skin above where her pantyhose and garter belt met. Her flesh was pliable under his nimble fingers, and he took his time ghosting over her, soaking up every second he was allowed to be exposed to her so vulnerably. By the time he reached the apex of her thighs and felt her shiver against him, he knew he was going to have to make good on her request from the last time they were alone. Don’t stop. But he wasn’t sure that he’d be able to control himself if that was the request- if he wouldn’t take her in the cockpit of a plane, would he be able to live with knowing their first time together was on the kitchen counter of the officers mess hall? 

“Val, honey…”

“I know,” She breathed, dropping her forehead against his chest, lips pressing kisses across the exposed skin. “I know…”

“You have to tell me what you want, sweetheart.” He pressed his thumb against her, teasing, testing the waters, and watched in awe as she pressed herself closer to him, keening under his touch. 

“I want you…” 

“I want you too, honey,” His thumb now moving at a steady pace over her clothed center, he couldn't help but watch her in amazement. “God you look so pretty like this.” 

“Everett, please… please don’t stop…” 

He continued to drive her higher. Her breaths uneven and ragged, her hands clutching him, face pressed against his chest. Had she not been sitting on the counter her legs would surely have given out by now. Gently, he used his free hand to urge her back, supporting her so that she wasn’t laying out on the counter, but no longer hiding her face from him.  Her neck and chest covered in a thin sheen of sweat, eyes pinched shut and red lips parted, it was taking all of his self control not to strip the both of them completely bare and take her right there. But he promised himself he would do it properly with her. She deserved all of the proper things. 

“Open your eyes for me, pretty. Come on, let me see you come apart.” 

She was crumbling under his hands as soon as the words left his mouth, crying out so loud that he covered her mouth and swallowed her moans so no one else dared hear the beautiful sound. He held her as she came down from her high, hands rubbing up and down her back, peppering kisses across her face, down her jaw, before settling on her lips. He would repeat the process for as long as it took for her to come back to herself. Back to him. Then again, she was closer now than she’d ever been to him, and he’d fight tooth and nail to never lose it. 

The air around them had been charged for the better part of the night, sparks following their every move and lighting their way. Now, in a half debauched state, holding onto one another, the sparks continued to orbit, settling softly around them as they took refuge in each other's arms in a time of darkness, pain and loss.  

Yes. This would be their safe place during the war. Together. 

Part Five

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

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[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 8

james douglass x olive lewis

part one part two part three part four part five part six part seven

masterlist ao3 olive's playlist

notes: a little heavy petting 🤭

Something big is brewing on base, the Brass keeping their cards close to their chest. The Red Cross Girls navigate their way through revelations, chance meetings and feelings from the past that rear their ugly head.

Despite the very few hours of sleep she had gotten, the sun rising over the beautiful Suffolk fields as the gang had all congregated in the cool morning air in celebration of no longer being a fractured bunch, Olive felt refreshed. 

The group had left the club in the early hours to see the sun rise, telling each other that the lack of sleep would be worth it. The gang, joined by Curt’s co-pilot Dickie, sat on the surprisingly soft grass of the airfield in a gentle silence. The sweet countryside air whipped all around them, Olive finding warmth tucked inside of Dougie’s jacket, his arm around her as she snuggled into him. She laid her head on his shoulder, him smiling as she stroked his face. The fiery hues of the morning sky brought out the beautiful blue of his eyes, Olive practically falling into them as the two of them seemed to slip into their own little world. It was at this moment she realized; she was falling in love with him. It had hit her like a freight train, the thought causing her to gasp out loud.

“Okay, doll?” James asks, holding her even closer to ward off the cold.

“Never better, honey.”

—

The early start came with the beginnings of a headache from lack of sleep. However, Olive found herself extremely peppy for this time of the morning. She, along with Tattie, had gone about most of their morning duties occasionally exchanging quiet conversation and Tattie preparing herself for her impending hangover. “It doesn't knock you on your ass if you don't go to sleep,” she laughs, wincing at the sound of her own voice. 

“You didn't sleep? Jesus Christ, Spaatz. You mad bugger.”

“There was no point,” she replies, beginning to daintily arrange donuts on a tray. “By the time I'd have got myself into bed, it would have been time to get up again. There,” she says, placing the tray on the counter. She lights two cigarettes, handing one to Olive before pouring them a cup of coffee each. “This'll perk us up, kid.”

A bark echoes through what feels like the whole air base, Olive and Tattie both jumping at the sound of it. “Hold on to your hats,” Tattie smiles. “Here comes trouble.”

“Oh, yeah! He's brought Meatball with him too!”

Benny strolls up to the Clubmobile alongside Meatball, stifling a yawn as he approaches. 

“Demarco!” she cheerfully greets, pouring him a coffee before he even has a chance to ask. “What are you doing up so early?”

“Meatball was crying for the bathroom, then I saw Lemmons while we were out there. Said he needed me to look over something on Our Baby.”

“Ah,” she nods. “Leave the good boy here with me. It seems pretty easy out here today, so it's no bother.”

“Thanks, Ol. Hey, everything worked out now?”

“Oh, yes,” she blushes. “Everything smoothed over. What about you?” she enquires, eyebrow raised. “You set him straight?”

“Too right. I made it clear that it's only him you care for in that way. I told him that if he thinks he saw what he thought he saw, he should've asked me; I also told him that if he ever made you cry again, he'd pay for it. He got a little sheepish at that.”

“Christ,” she whispers, shaking her head in amusement.

“Hey, no hard feelings. We shook hands, back to being pals. No harm done.”

“Well, if you say so. Here,” she says, placing another two cups of coffee and a few donuts in front of him. “One for you, the coffees and other donuts are for Kenny and Wink.”

“Thanks. Run over and grab me if the dog is too much trouble.”

He turns on his heel and departs, Meatball barking incessantly as his person walks away from him without so much as a pat goodbye. 

“Benny!” Olive shouts. “You forgot something!”

—

“Good morning boy, hi!” Olive hears, seeing Meatball perk up instantly with his ball in his mouth, expecting playtime at the sight of more people walking up to the Clubmobile. Val bends down to pet him, scritching at the dog's ears as he drops the ball at her feet and pants happily in her face. “Did you have a nice snooze?”

“He snoozed more than any of us, that’s for sure.” Helen says, rolling her eyes and smiling.

“When I checked last night, you were snoozing on top of Dickie,” Olive smiles, cheekily pointing at her friend with a triumphant grin.

“He was closest,” Helen grumbles. “And Tattie took the dog.”

“Surprised Benny didn’t put up more of a fight for him honestly,” Tattie says, stubbing out her cigarette and turning to begin spot cleaning the counters.

Mentioning Benny's name seemed to be a careless mistake. At the mention of his name, Meatball leans forward and begins howling, Cleven’s assumption once again being proved right. 

“That wolf is part dog,” he had grumbled to Olive, a few days after their first meeting. Seeing her love on him, he crouched down beside her and told her all about how he'd come to be the group's mascot. 

“Benny won him,” he laughed, holding a hand out for the dog to sniff at. “Craps.”

“Probably the luckiest win of his life,” Olive had replied, nuzzling into Meatball for warmth. “Wait, how did you get him here all the way from Greenland?”

“He flew with us. Howled the whole darn way, Lewis. It was unbearable, let me tell ya.”

“I'll bet,” she had said, raising her eyebrows. 

“Benny joked that his dog was part wolf,” he pauses, standing up and wiping his hands on his slacks. “I said that wolf is part dog.”

“Okay, Meatball, shhh.” Olive crouches down to ruffle the fur between his ears in comfort, when suddenly, the dog mistakes her loving on him for playtime and jumps up onto her, pushing her to the floor.

“Oh, Meatball!” Val laughs, unable to pull him off Olive and help her friend as he continues to lick her face. Through the chaos, laughter and struggle, a familiar voice booms across to them, with Everett Blakely following closely behind.

“Wow, and here I thought I was the only fella who got to smother you in kisses!” Dougie’s voice calls out as he walks up the path to the Clubmobile, a smirk about his lips. He seems to have woken up incredibly happy, a jaunty little pep in his step as he walks up to greet everyone. 

“Fella, yes,” Olive looks up at him from her place on the ground, his blue eyes softly boring into her. “But he’s not a fella, he’s a Meatball.”

“Well, then he’s the only Meatball who gets to smother you in kisses.” Dougie approaches the dog, gently tugging at his collar to get him off Olive and helps her stand, his hand stroking hers as he does so.  

“Did anyone get any sleep last night?” Dougie questions everyone, looking at their exhausted faces as he helps Olive dust off, tickling her playfully as he does so. 

“James!” she shrieks, playfully swatting at him.

“Barely,” Val sighs, answering his question through Olive’s giggles. She moves slightly, joining Ev and snuggling into him. “I can’t remember the last time I stayed out all night like that.”

“Had to be sometime before the war…” Ev sighs, placing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Somehow it always involves Curt.” Val groans, her back turned to the path the aforementioned man is now sauntering down. 

“Hey, yous guys!”

“Talk of the devil…” Val begins.

“And he shall appear,” Olive and Helen finish, climbing into the truck and pouring coffee for those who have now congregated around the area. They hand out the cups, now knowing each coffee order by memory. If anything proved how close these girls had gotten to these men, it was this very thing. Sometimes, all these men needed was a silent nod and a wry smile as a perfectly warm beverage and donut was set in front of them without a word. All the girls could do was hope they were able to make the same coffee the next day, hoping more than anything to keep seeing these familiar faces, just as the men wanted to see theirs. 

“Ol, Harding wants to see me. Not sure what it's regarding but I'd better get there al momento. Curt says he'll be on Meatball duty but–”

“Yeah, he'll sod it off after five minutes,” she titters. “Need one of us to go with?”

“Ev is giving me a hand, thanks, doll.”

“I'm sure he is, you cheeky pair.”

“Leave it, English,” she scolds with a wink, surprising her with a kiss on the cheek. “Be back soon, ‘kay?”

“Tell me what it's about when you're back! I may be sleepy but I am still nosy!”

—

“Mail's here!” Tattie yells, wafting a letter in front of Olive's face. She takes it from Tattie’s fingers with a smile, and takes in the unfamiliar penmanship written upon the envelope. It feels thick, the paper creaking slightly as she squeezes it to survey its contents without needing to open it. Not able to keep herself waiting any longer, she rips it open with her thumb and removes six thick pages, tied with ribbon, along with a single sheet of paper that's been beautifully folded into three. Setting the wad of paper to the side for just a second, she quickly scans the letter: your friend, Juliet.

“Aw!” Olive says, stuffing the papers back in the envelope they arrived in. “Brady's girl wrote me back. That's so sweet.”

“What you got there?” Dougie asks, stuffing a second - or was it a third? - donut into his mouth, looking at the huge stack of papers in Olive’s hand. She opens it, a huge smile spreading across her face, causing her cheeks to glow a little. Dougie feels his breath catch in his throat as he sees her eyes light up, quickly taking in the first three pages. It's the dimple in her cheek as she grins, the way her eyes sparkle and crinkle as her cheeks lift, the subtle glow of them, too. He clears his throat after realizing he's been holding his breath, a hand out towards Olive.

“I've got a few minutes. You wanna go somewhere quiet and read that?”

“I'd love to! Helen?” She calls, turning her head to find her friend. “You good here? I wanna go read this,” she says, gesturing to the thick pages in her hands. 

“Gosh, yes!” she cries, beginning to pour herself a coffee. “Take your time. I'll have Meatball bark if I need you!”

—

Sitting on her bunk with a sigh, she pats the space next to her. “Are you staying?” she asks Dougie, who is standing awkwardly by the door.

“Am I allowed in here?”

“It's just me, so, yes, I'd say so. Don't be trying to come in when we're all in here though; it gets a little cramped.” She pats the blanket again, hoping he takes the hint. “Come sit, darling.”

He finally begins walking towards the bunk, swiping up Val's copy of Screen Romances as he reaches Olive. “You think she'll mind?” he asks, holding it out toward her. Smirking, she shakes her head, beginning to open the letter again. Dougie sits down next to her as gently as he can, his arm wrapping around her shoulder. Her head falls on to him right away, as if his shoulder was always its safe place.

“How long do you have?” she murmurs, looking up at him from where she's laying.

“I've got a little while,” he smiles, opening the magazine right at the gossip column. “How ever long you need, Ollie.” 

She whizzes through the essay, her head on Dougie’s shoulder the whole time as he flips through the magazine, letting out little gasps and even an “ooooh!” when he reads about Clark Gable's latest exploits. Olive folds the papers back together and ties them with the ribbon they came with, smoothing out the silk as she ties it as neatly as she can, trying her best to replicate Jules’ expert handiwork. She looks over at Dougie, shifting slightly under his arm so she can sit up. He doesn't realize she has moved at first, his eyes still on the page and his brow furrowed in concentration. She smiles softly at him, trying her best to take in every detail of his sweet face.

“You're so into the gossip in that magazine, huh?” she asks, breaking the silence. He jumps, face now turning toward her. “Gossip queen.”

“What can I say? I like to be in the know,” he laughs. 

“That's just called being nosy, my love.”

“Yeah,” he blushes, taking her hand. “But you know you love it.”

“I do,” she sighs, her face coming towards his to kiss him as her eyes flicker down to his plush lips. She kisses him gently, her heart growing lighter as he smiles down at her. She doesn't pull away right after, and he isn't about to let her. His hand gently tilts her chin up to him and their lips meet again, the both of them softly falling into each other with a sigh. He delicately strokes down her chin to gently grip the side of her neck, an action that causes her to gasp and push her tongue into his mouth. A breathy moan leaves his lips as she kneels - never breaking the kiss -  and places a leg on either side of his lap. Her hands wander up to his cheeks, letting them take in his features without needing to open her eyes as his hands fall to her waist, gently squeezing and stroking each curve he can reach over her clothes. Sighs and moans pass between their lips, both of them fighting the urge to not get totally lost in it, a whine of displeasure leaving her as he pulls back to catch his breath. 

“Ollie,” he whispers, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “You're so pretty.” 

That does it for her. She quickly closes the distance between them, tugging on his shirt to bring him impossibly closer, intent on getting the very thing her body craves from him the most. The warmth of his body touching hers, the way he touches her: being so gentle with her that it was like she was something precious and made of fragile porcelain. Her mind recounts previous kisses with previous people and she is sure it’s never felt this good with anyone else, nor has anyone else treated her so lovingly. She sighs back into him, pushing her hips into his. 

She's not sure how long they stay like that, herself pulling away to catch her breath. The rule, it seemed, was that she was allowed to do that and he wasn't. Either way, she hated losing the time but loved the split second of taking in his half lidded eyes, as if he were in some kind of dazed state. His expression made a warmth erupt within her, her lungs filling with a contented sigh. She couldn't get enough of knowing she had got him into this state and only she was ever going to make him look like this. 

She adjusts herself on his lap, feeling him rock hard underneath her as she sits back down on him. As she moves, a hearty moan leaves him and his breath hitches and she begins to slowly rock on top of him. 

“Aaah,” he sighs, his hands now in her hair as he pulls her face away from his. He sees a worried expression flash across her face, her kiss swollen lips beginning to pout as he holds her hips still. 

“Why did you stop me?” she asks, intertwining her fingers with his. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, no! God, no,” he urges. “I really really want to do this. But I don't want it to be some quick thing where we don't take our time. You deserve better than that.”

“I don't care,” she whimpers, planting urgent kisses all over his face and neck as he laughs. 

“I do,” he sighs, kissing her back once she breaks away. “I can't give you the time you deserve right now. I wanna do this right, take our time. Show you how you should be treated. Okay?”

“Fine,” she pouts, her eyelids blinking up at him.

“Hey, don't be like that, angel. Soon, I promise. Pinky promise,” he says, joining their pinky fingers together and kissing her hand. 

A tap, tap, tap on the window pulls them out of the moment. They both turn towards the window and see Ev standing out there, urging Dougie to go to him, Dougie patting Olive's behind to get her off his lap. “Give me a second, honey,” he says quietly, planting a chaste kiss on her forehead as he gets up off the bed. 

Olive watches them through the window, Dougie's eyes widening slightly with whatever information Ev seems to be relaying to him. She sees his shoulders droop slightly before Ev pats one of them, beginning to walk towards the hut, and gesturing by pointing at the door for Olive to let him in. She gets up off her bunk, placing the letter on the small desk next to it and walks towards the door, opening it quickly.

“You can open it yourself, Ev,” she laughs, smoothing her hair down quickly.

“How was your, uh, reading?”

“Educational, thanks,” she replies, blushing and giggling. 

“Can't believe that guy got to sneak in here before me,” he complains, shaking his head and pulling a small sheet of paper from Val’s stationary.

“Maybe you're not picking the right moments, Blakely. What are you doing?”

“Leaving a note for Val, English.”

“You're so sly,” she pokes, reading it as he places the small sheet of paper on her pillow. She catches sight of the last line and gasps, almost squeals, in fact. Love you.

��Don't let that slip before I can, Ol.”

“Don't know what you mean, Everett,” she winks, nudging him with her elbow into his ribcage. “I promise I won't tell her before you do.”

“Good. Then I promise to not tell you before Dougie does.”

She processes what he has just said. What did that mean? 

“Ha ha, yeah, good one.” She stumbles over each word, her mouth drying as her hands clam up. A false laugh tumbles from her lips as she rushes towards the exit, finding Dougie still outside and waiting for her and Everett.

“Everything okay?” he asks, her hand finding his instantly. She feels him relax into her touch, his face softening as she silently comforts him. She pulls him towards her and holds him close, breathing him in as she savors the words that have just been said. “I promise to not tell you before Dougie does.” 

“I've gotta go,” he sighs. “We're taking the new boys on a practice run.”

“New boys?” she questions, realizing that was why Val was beckoned by Red and Chick earlier. 

“Yeah, replacements came in today. Ev says they seem a little nervous, but–”

“Hey, you've both got it,” she says, pulling him close. “You'll lead them through,” she soothes, beginning to stroke the back of his neck. “I know it.”

“Thanks, sweetheart. I'll be back later, okay?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, kissing his cheek. “Be safe, all of you. Especially you.”

—

Olive spots Tattie leaning against the vehicle, smoking a cigarette and deep in conversation with Jack Kidd, Tattie breaking into peals of laughter at something he has said. Olive subtly looks between the pair of them, him smiling down at Tattie as laughter rises from her throat. She sees his whole face light up with joy as he watches her laugh, the first time she has seen him without a scowl upon his face. The air somehow feels different between them, and Olive finds it best to not disturb that. 

She feels a wet nose poking into her leg and turns around to see Meatball sniffing at her incessantly. “Hey, buddy,” she says, leaning down to pet him and making kissy faces at him. 

“Hey, kid,” greets Tattie, making Olive jump slightly. “Val and Helen are tidying up after greeting the new guys, so we're on Meatball duty.”

“I guessed. Ev had to come grab Dougie from me so they could go on their practice run,” she shrugs. “Curt just go too?”

“Jesus, no,” she laughs. “He gave up on doggy daycare after five minutes.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she replies, smiling. “What do you need me to do?”

“There's a load of donuts we need to get rid of before they go stale. Know anyone on the ground that would be interested?”

“Seems I know just the guys, Tat. You parcel them up and I'll take Meatball over to the hardstands to see Kenny and Wink. This dog needs a run around anyway.”

—

The sun tucks itself behind the clouds, the skies graying as the afternoon passes slowly. It seems that British summer time never changes, Olive thinks to herself as loads up a tray with coffee and donuts for the ground crew. Placed in the middle was a paper bag stuffed full of donuts, the bag being found by Tattie as she rifled through the last of the day’s newspapers.

“Ah,” she declared, somehow expertly turning it inside out without ripping it, so as not to get newspaper ink on the baked goods.”Just perfect,” she had said, a half smoked Lucky Strike hanging from her red lips. Without warning, the smoke had risen up from the cigarette and crept its way into her eye, her hand instantly clamping over it as a single tear ran from the lid. “Darn it!” She had shrieked, whipping a cloth from Helen’s shoulder as she secretly tittered, her own hand over her mouth. Olive tries her best to hold it in, the full coffee cups shaking on the tray she was holding. 

“Get gone, English, before I clip you around the ear hole for laughing at me!”

“Yes, ma’am,” Olive giggled, slipping Helen a subtle wink as she departed.

Left with no other choice, Olive lets Meatball walk off leash. “Don’t make me regret this, buddy,” she urges, watching him walk not in a straight line but in some strange zig zag motion, as if to antagonize her into dropping the six cups of hot liquid straight on to the pavement. 

“Woah!” she scolds, nearly tripping over the furry fool’s body as he stops suddenly to sniff the air, panting at the sound of his friends’ voices from afar. He almost looks like he’s smiling at her, seeming to enjoy her almost panicking at each drip of coffee falling from its full cup. “Meatball, we’re about to not be friends if you have me tripping face first into the ground.” 

He suddenly obliges, though not to appease Olive; a baseball lands right at his feet and he’s off like a shot towards the hardstands the second he retrieves it in his mouth.

A few moments later, Olive finds him being fussed over by Lemmons. She places the tray down on someone’s tool chest, rubbing her sore arms. 

“Heavy?” Wink asked, nudging her with his elbow.

“Not really,” she replies. “Not much weight to it but it was the keeping it upright that was the challenge. Especially with trying to keep Meatball close by and not have me tripping over my own feet. Here,” she says, handing him his cup. “I know it’s a little late in the day, but–”

“No, it’s much appreciated, Lewis,” he replies, taking a deep sip. “We’re out here for a while longer anyway, and this’ll keep the energy up for sure. We’ve got a long night ahead of us, I think, judging by Harding’s urgency.”

“You know what it’s about yet?”

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” he laughs. “You seem to be in the know. Friends in high places and all that.”

“No special privileges here, Wink,” she jokes back, opening the bag of donuts and offering it to him. “I know as much as you, kiddo.”

“Olive!” Lemmons greets, grabbing a coffee from the tray. “Y’know, I expected more cold beer than hot coffee for keeping your little secret, but seeing as you brought donuts, I’ll let it slide.”

“You’d better,” she smiles, handing him the bag. She realizes that Wink is still standing in the same spot, absolutely in earshot. He is either too invested in his donut to look shocked, or there’s the alternative. Olive’s eyes narrow and bore into the young man in front of her, happily sipping coffee and petting the dog.

“Kenny…” she says through gritted teeth. “Did you tell anyone else?”

“Oh, heck,” he murmurs, his face dropping and growing ashen by the second. “Y’see, I just– well, he wanted to know why I was just so het up and I–”

“So you told Wink, without checking with me first, and he–” she stops, turning to the man beside her. “You’re fine with it?”

“Yeah, Olive. I was telling Kenny you seem a little different and I was just putting it down to you being English.”

“But I let it slip. I–I’m sorry, Ol.”

Her teeth bare again, her brow furrowing so hard that she is sure it could one up Valencia’s famous glare. “Kenny,” she growls, her eyes beginning to fill with angry tears. She drops the act the second she sees him wince at what’s coming next. She laughs, wiping her tears and sees his eyes grow wide. “I’m only fucking around, pal. It’s fine, you’re grand.”

“Jesus, Ol,” he breathes out, relieved. “Ya scared me, girl!”

“I told you, I’m an actor. I’ve got to pull it out every now and then to mess with my friends, it’s only fair.”

“Well, it worked! Hell fire!” He wipes his brow, finally taking a bite of the donut he had picked from the bag a few moments ago.

“Will you keep the dog for a little while? Me and the girls want to be ready for when the boys come back and we don’t want our nicer uniforms covered in dog hair.”

“What, not just this once? Take a little Meatball to dinner with ya?” Kenny coos, bending down to be close to Meatball’s face and pouting. Laughing, he stands up and brushes at his knees. “Sure thing, buddy. I’ll bring him back later.”

“Thanks, Ken. See you later!”

“Hey, thanks for dinner and a show!”

“You’re welcome!”

—

Back at the hut, Olive slumps on her bunk with a tired sigh. All this staying out into the early hours of the morning was beginning to take a real toll on her, no matter how fun it was. She feels herself getting drowsy, a sleepy warmth washing over her as she lay her head on her pillow for just a moment, to get the room to stop spinning. She calculates how long it's been since she went back to Pearl, and sits up in shock. Her whole body suddenly tense, she makes a mental note to go back as soon as possible. Not knowing how time will behave and treat her, she feels a panic rise up in her chest, the breathlessness of it making a rush of heat run up her body and burn her throat.

“Ol?” a voice, Helen’s, but sounds like it's underwater. “Olive, look at me,” she urges, her hand now on Olive's forehead. “Breathe, girlie.”

 She nods weakly, and begins to look around the room as the walls begin to close in on her. She tries to find something to focus on, her eyes falling to the bed opposite hers - Valencia’s bunk - with the note still sat prettily atop the pillow. Disappointed that Val hadn’t seen it yet, she hopes that she arrives back soon to retrieve it. It’s this simple thought, the thought of her friend smiling as she reads it, that brings her back to herself. 

“There,” Helen comforts, wiping Olive’s face with a damp washcloth. “I’ve got you. What pulled you out of it?”

“Thinking of Val’s face when she sees what he’s written.”

“Oh, I know!” She squeals. “I can hardly wait. Did she tell you who I met today?”

“No!” she cries. “I haven’t seen her since this morning. Oh my gosh, spill!”

She begins, her words coming out of her dainty mouth at a mile a minute as she regales the tale of meeting ‘the most handsome pilot I’ve ever laid my eyes on.’

“The most handsome?” Olive teases, hanging on every word.

“Yes!” she giggles, once again describing him. As she continues to chatter and giggle, Olive joining and doing just the same, the door swings open. Their conversation stops, their eyes sparkling and smiling widely at their friend. 

“You’ve got mail…” Olive sing songs playfully, pointing over at the pillow.

“What don’t I know?” Val smiles, her pretty green eyes narrowing at the two giggling girls on the bed opposite. 

“Nope,” Olive says, truly sticking to her promise of not revealing anything. She mimes zipping her lips, the action sending her and Helen into a peal of girlish giggles all over again.

“Olive!” she stomps, shaking her head at the mischievous pair who are falling over themselves with laughter. 

Olive sees Val’s eyes read the note one, two, three times, each time with a little extra speed than before. She stands up from the bed and stands in front of Val, that all knowing, cheeky glint still sparkling in her eye. 

“He…oh my God…” She stutters out, her hand flying out to find Olive’s to steady herself.

“He what, honey?” Helen asks, despite knowing exactly what she is referring to. 

“That’s the first time...in a note!” She cries, trying to find a way to steady her heart’s rhythm at the revelation. 

“The first time for what?” Helen teases again, still perched upon the bed with the same all-knowing look Olive has on her own face.

“Val, honey, are you okay?” Tattie asks, quietly entering the room. 

“DID YOU KNOW?!” Val yelps,  her attention turning to Olive, who is taken aback by the way Val’s voice is a few pitches higher than they’re all used to.

“Did I know what?” she asks innocently, almost winking at her.

“THIS!” she shrieks, waving the paper in front of her eyes.

“What’s it say?” the Brit asks, trying to peer around the paper to read the words she’s already read numerous times today.

“English, please!” She releases Olive’s hand and sits on her bed, her lungs tightening in her chest.

“Okay, okay,” she relents, taking a seat beside her on the bunk. “I promised,” she says, crossing her heart, “that I wouldn’t let it slip before you found out or he told you.”

“How did you…”

“Dougie and I were in here earlier,” she smiles at the memory, remembering the way he touched her hours before sending her organs dancing into a frenzy. “I was reading my mail when Ev came looking for him.”

“Yeah, okay, you two were ‘reading,’” she kids, rolling her eyes at her friend.

“Don’t change the subject, Valencia!”

“Olive!” Helen calls, her face now suddenly a picture of disgust. “Please tell me I’m not sitting where…”

“No, Helen, you’re safe. Nothing happened.”

“As long as I’m not–”

“Would you two please focus?” Val urgently cuts Helen off. “Everett just said he loves me!”

“Well of course he loves you!” Tattie says, rolling her eyes as she walks past the hubbub on her way to the shower block. 

“No, I mean, that’s the first time he’s ever said it.”

“I find that hard to believe,” she yells, turning one of the showers on, the squeak of the pipes causing her to need to raise her voice so she’s heard.

 “What makes you say that?” Val queries, the note still in her hands. 

“Well, for starters,” Helen begins, hoping she is not interjecting on whatever Tattie has to say. “It’s the way you gaze into each other’s eyes when you think no one is looking…” She rolls over, her stomach now on the bed with her feet kicked up behind her. 

“Or when we are looking,” Olive teases, nudging her a little. She reaches into her pocket and grabs her cigarettes, lighting two and handing on to Val. “Here, chicken, come on…”

Val takes the cigarette from Olive’s fingers and takes a long drag before exhaling quickly, Olive seeing that the deep breath she took is beginning to somewhat ground her. She begins to talk again, in her normal tone and slower this time, the words accompanied by a plume of white smoke as she speaks. Her eyes seem to glaze over, like she’s lost in another time far away from this one.

“The last person who told me they loved me,” she begins, blinking suddenly.

“There was someone before Blakely?” Tattie calls, her head popping around the wall of the tiled bathroom as she dries herself. 

“I don’t like talking about it,” Val sighs, her eyes almost back to their usual green tone. “We met when I started working at the bank. He was a big shot and I was a secretary.”

“Val, you don’t have to tell us.”

“No, it’s okay,” she sighs, looking between her friends. “I want to. I think I need to, to finally be rid of him.”

“Rid of him?” Helen questions.

“He was a real sweet talker,” Val starts. “Not like Curt or Ev. He was the kind of guy who could charm the skirt off a nun. Not even Curt can do that.” She titters, taking another pull of the cigarette in her hand.

“Oh…” Helen cringes slightly, still intrigued by Val’s story.

“So, he charmed me. Charmed me real good, made me lots of promises.”

“Val, did he…” Olive asks.

“No,” she urges, shaking her head. “I was so enthralled by him, I had wanted to.”

“So, what happened?”

“The secretaries would always leave at five in the dot. So, there would be nights I would go home and he would still be working, and so Curt would meet me and walk me home. And one night, we were walking home, we came up to the picture house, and there he was.”

“Oh no!” Helen cries, her hand slapping to cover her mouth as she figures out where this is going.

“He was with another woman,” she sighs, shaking her head. “I don’t know who she was, but I begged Curt to take me home.”

“Did you ever see him again?”

“Yes,” she says quietly. “In the police station, after Curt beat him within an inch of his life. They both got arrested for a public brawl.”

“Valencia!” Olive cries, somewhat shocked but not shocked at all at the mental image of Curtis Biddick defending his best friend with his boxer’s fists. 

“I had to identify them both. Curt had claimed self defense, so, when it came time to make my statement, I said that my ex had attacked me, and Curt fought back in my defense.”

“Oh my God!”

“I tried dating other fellas after the dust settled, but Curt was always wildly protective and made it difficult. I get why he did it.”

“He really is your protector, isn’t he?” Olive soothes, her fingers intertwining with Val’s.

“Until I found out he was the one who divulged my cocktail order to Everett…”

“Curt did?!” Helen cries happily, almost cheering at the discovery.

“He did,” Val smiles, the cigarette long ignored as it burns its way down to her fingers. “He surprises me in funny ways like that.”

“Insufferable, that one,” Olive chuckles, shaking her head. “But he really is a good egg.”

“What are you going to tell Blakely?” Tattie asks, joining the others in the room again. 

“That I love him too,” she grins, showing her perfect teeth. “Because I do love him.”

“Ohhhhh!” It’s Olive’s turn to squeal, almost jumping up and down in excitement. “I knew it!”

—

Olive and Helen watch as Val takes Ev’s note and delicately places it between the pages of the book that rests on her side table. Everett Blakely’s first ‘I love you’ was now secretly pressed between chapters seven and eight of The Great Gatsby. The girls then found themselves in front of the mirror, prettying themselves up for dinner. Being invited to eat in the Officer’s Mess was slightly anxiety inducing anyway, but even more so when Chick Harding would be sat just a few tables away. They dug out their cleanest uniform, once again glad that Olive had sent Meatball to the airfield for his daily exercise. For such an occasion as this, the uniform needed to remain dog-hair, coffee stained and donut sugar free. 

Olive watched as Valencia expertly daubed rouge on her cheeks and her signature Victory Red shade on her lips, pouting occasionally in the mirror so as to ensure she’d got the right shape. She tries her best to mimic her movements without making it obvious, pulling her dark brown hair out from under the silk scarf she had used to keep it contained all day, now pinning it away from her face. She had found the perfect shade after the disastrous testing and application of Val’s Victory Red on her first night in the hut. It’s one she will be happy to have kissed off her mouth later, that’s for certain. 

“That color looks good on you,” Val utters from next to her.

“Yeah?” She replies, meeting her glance in the reflection of the mirror and resuming the primping of her hair, hoping to somehow smooth it into submission. “It’s not too dark?”

“Not at all. It’s the perfect red for you.”

“I think only you can pull off that Victory Red,” Olive chuckles, the pair of them remembering how that shade had been much too light against Olive’s pale skin, it washing her out and making her impossibly more pasty. “It was not for me.”

“Oh, gosh, do you remember how fast you wiped it off?”

“Immediate no,” she laughs. A sigh leaves her lips, throwing a stray hair pin that had escaped from her hair onto a nearby table. “Ugh, this side does not want to cooperate!”

“Here, let me…” Val stands and walks towards her friend, standing behind her as she begins gently rolling Olive’s hair between her manicured fingers and pinning it in the desired spot.

“How do you do it?” She grumbles, her hair now perfect within seconds, all thanks to an expert hand. 

“From an early age, my mother taught me how to be a ‘proper lady’,�� she replies, Olive stifling a giggle at Val’s impression of her mom. “‘Valencia, don’t leave the house without lipstick on. Don’t forget to set your hair.’”

Olive laughs fully now at the broken English accent that comes out of her. She is so good at it that it’s almost like her mother is in the room with them. “Is that what she sounds like?”

“Oh, yes,” Val nods. “And Nonna, not a word of English.”

“Well, you’re a whizz,” she compliments, looking up as the final pin is placed in her hair. “I need to pay attention to how you do your hair.”

“You’re doing just fine, chickie,” she winks, walking over to her side table and putting on her watch before collecting her jacket. Olive does just the same, Helen waiting impatiently by the door. “We were all there once.”

“Thanks,” Olive beams at her friend, shoving her arms into her own jacket. “Now, come on. It’s almost 5:30 and if I know those two…”

“They’re probably already outside,” she finishes, Helen opening the door. 

The two men stood outside, smoking together and deep in conversation, no doubt about the replacements that had joined them today. Listening in as they mischievously stare through the screen door at  their fellas, they catch that Ev had taken a few of the boys up and tested them on formations and calling out navigation patterns. Dougie had simulated a bomb drop for them, the pilot and the bombardier agreeing that two forts in particular had impressed them - the rest, not so much. 

“I wanted to take Ol to the pub tonight, but that’s not happening,” Dougie grumbles as he senses the girls making their way towards them. 

“I know,” Ev groans in response. “I owe Val a date but, based on what Jack told me earlier, we’re about to go through the mud for a bit.”

“This whole place is mud. Never stops raining!”

“This one sounds big,” Ev musters, his voice low. 

“He say where?”

“No, Harding’s keeping it close to the vest.”

“Dammit,” Dougie shoots out, teeth slightly gritted together in annoyance. “It would be nice to know what we’re up against for once.”

“Yeah,” comes the quiet reply from Everett, the final ember bursting from his cigarette. “Explains why he wants us looking after these new kids.”

“Fucking replacements…”

The conversation carries on, the men so involved in it that they still haven’t noticed the girls right by them. The compliments flow, them talking about a pair from Laredo who seemed to be the only ones worth their salt. 

Dougie does a double take as he realizes his girl is right by him. He throws his finished cigarette into the makeshift ashtray in front of the hut and smiles his sweet grin, holding out his hand. 

“Hey,” he murmurs. “You look beautiful.”

“Heh, thank you,” she giggles, feeling herself blush at his compliment. “You’re looking mighty fine yourself, my love.”

“Good day?” he teases, kissing her gently on the mouth.

“Hm, it was okay, I guess. Nothing much happened,” she pauses, this time being the one to initiate the kiss. “A lot of reading.”

“Oh yeah, we definitely read a lot. Can we read more tomorrow?”

“Only if you buy me a drink later.”

“Deal,” he winks, pulling her close. “Oh, you smell divine, Ollie.”

“Yes, I’m quite appealing when I’m not covered in dog hair and coffee.”

“I think you’re just as beautiful all the time,” he whispers, his voice in her ear sending a delicious tingle down her spine. She lets him keep gently whispering sweet nothings in her ear as she catches sight of Val and Ev going on ahead, the pair of them walking in step as he wraps his arm around her shoulders and keeps her close. 

“We’d better go,” she laughs, nodding her head towards their friends. “We’re gonna be late.”

“If that hut is empty, I’m fine being late.”

“James!” she scolds, but laughs nevertheless. “You are so cheeky!”

“Yeah,” he grins, his eyes beginning to light up. “Only for you, though.”

“Oh, it had better be only for me, Douglass,” she flirts, batting her long lashes at him. “Nobody else is getting a piece of this!”

“Nu-uh, no, ma’am. Never.”

The evening air has a chill upon it, Dougie feeling it the moment they begin walking towards the Officer’s Mess. He throws his arm around Olive’s shoulders and pulls her close, the warmth from his body edging the cold away with each step. 

“I’d give you my jacket,” he offers. “But I’d have to put it right back on in a second.”

“I understand, sweet. No bother at all.”

He stops, taking her face between his hands and plants a deep kiss on her mouth, both of them feeling the other smile as their lips meet. She giggles as they break apart, taking her thumb to wipe the lipstick from his lips. “Oh, seems this red is your color, too.”

“I knew it. Does that mean I can keep kissing you forever?”

“Sure,” she swoons, the word ‘forever’ sending her insides melting. “I’d like that.”

“Me too,” he whispers, a tone of nervousness to his voice. “Come on, pretty girl. We’re late.”

— 

Upon entering the mess, Dougie’s arm once again wraps around Olive, they hear Val’s voice loudly making a remark to Harry Crosby. Gesturing to the couple who are smiling themselves into oblivion, they hear “that about answer your question, Croz?”

“Sure does,” he laughs in response, smiling at them both as Dougie, ever the sweet gentleman, pulls the chair out next to Val for Olive to sit on before rounding the table to sit opposite her, next to Everett. 

“So, fellas,” he pipes up, his eyes crinkling from his smile. “How’s it going then?”

“Could ask you the same thing, Dougie,” Brady grins, nodding towards Olive.

“Oh, I’m great,” he enunciates, winking at his girl opposite him, who rolls her eyes in return.

“Brady,” Olive begins, tapping his hand to get his attention. “I just wanted to say how lovely your Juliet is. I received her reply today, and I’ve got to say, what an amazing person. What a magnificent writer she is. Those kids are lucky to have her as their teacher, that’s for sure.”

“Oh, thanks, Olive,” he smiles, his cheeks turning red at the mention of her. “Make sure you mention that in your next letter. I tell her that all the time, yet she never seems to take it in from me. Maybe she’ll listen to someone else.”

“Maybe so! I’m very much the same, John. It’s a girl thing.”

“She write you an essay?” he jokes, shuffling with the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

“She did, actually,” she nods enthusiastically, promising to show him tomorrow.

“Yeah,” Dougie interjects. “We read it together.”

The men at the table give a roaring cheer at his remark, Olive feeling herself turn a deep shade of beetroot as she begins to laugh. “James!” she says, holding on to Valencia as they both laugh with tears in their eyes. “Keep it quiet.”

“Yeah, Doug,” Ev says, ruffling his hair a little. “Keep it quiet.”

Next to her, she sees Val catch the eye of one of the new replacements that had been mentioned earlier. Due to her having not been introduced to them yet, she is finding it hard to place which one had captured Helen’s heart and mind this morning from description alone. Nevertheless, Olive smiles brightly at them in greeting, the curly haired mustached man waving across to Val. 

“Hey, Val,” Benny calls from the other end of the table. “Looks like you’ve caught the eye of some of the replacements.” Olive sees Everett’s head twitch just a little at Benny’s words, turning his head slightly to get a better look. “Starry eyed kids.” 

“Rosenthal and his crew?” Val responds, shaking her head with a laugh. 

“Uh, no, actually…”

“What?” Ev scowls, and finds the men Benny has been referring to. His eyes narrow towards them, his gait akin to a wild cat ready to attack. Olive feels her chest tense up, hoping and praying this isn’t the start of a whole new argument, so soon after getting over the last one. 

“Everett, they’re not doing anything,” she pleads, her voice soft. “They’re just–”

“Drooling at my girlfriend like a pack of dogs.” 

Olive quickly looks over each of her shoulders, hoping that brotherly Curt Biddick isn’t in the vicinity. Olive isn’t sure who Curt would go for first in this situation - Ev for acting in such a way, or the new boys acting like uncouth savages whose mothers hadn’t taught them manners. 

Dougie places a hand on his friend’s shoulder, bringing him out of the envious trance he’d gotten himself in. “Ev, hey pal. They’re just kids, they’ll learn.” 

Olive sees Ev’s eyes unlock from the group with a shake of his head as he hears Dougie’s words, the ready-to-pounce stance dropping almost immediately. 

“Yeah…learn not to ogle other people’s girlfriends,” he spits, pointedly talking to those same boys, whose faces had dropped a mile in fear. 

“Everett…” Val warned, her eyes meeting Olive’s in some kind of confusion. Before he can respond, Gale Cleven stands with his hands on his hips, ever the authoritative figure. Major Buck Cleven addresses the boys, their faces now pale and their eyes darting to fixate on anything but Everett Blakely. 

“Fellas,” he nods. “Those girls will get your utmost respect, understood?” 

“Y-yes, Major,” they all stutter out, Buck nodding before moving along to say hello to everyone. 

“Boys. Miss Lewis, Miss Val,” he smiles, giving Val a little wink after realizing she has heard his talk with the replacements. “Enjoy dinner, everyone.”

“Thanks, Major.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Val and Ev, who are sitting opposite one another just like Olive and Dougie are, begin quietly talking to one another. Olive finds it best to not listen in, having found that this situation was enough drama for one night. Instead, she catches the eye opposite her, Dougie shaking his head and rolling his eyes with a smile as the pair murmur next to them.

— 

Dinner finishes, and the group finds that the tiredness has finally caught up with them all, Olive and Val exchanging tired glaces which are not just from feeling full after all they’d eaten for dinner.

“So, club?” Dougie asks, taking a drag of his just lit cigarette and passing it across to Olive.

“Hmm, no. Not tonight,” she shakes her head, blowing smoke out of her mouth. “Unless Val wants to?”

“Hell no,” she laughs, dark circles beginning to form under her eyes. “I need my bed.” She pauses for a second, evidently piecing a thought together. “Why don’t we just go sit outside our hut for a while?”

“It’s a nice night, I don’t see why not,” Olive agrees, already beginning to stand. Dougie rushes up behind her and helps her with her jacket, holding out his hand for her to hold. “Come on, honey,” she smiles, before leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. “We can have a cuddle.”

“Perfect.”

The group makes the short walk back, Dougie not letting Olive’s hand go for a second. Every now and then, he puts it to his lips and kisses the back of it, smiling softly at the sight of their fingers linked together. Once the hut is reached, the girls rush inside and place a vinyl on the player, gesturing for one of the guys to grab a chair and prop the door open so the music can be heard from where they will sit. 

“Ev, we need a record player in our rack,” Dougie says, handing a cigarette up to Olive who is sitting on his lap, his arm around her waist, holding her close to him. 

“Croz has a record player,” Ev responds with a sigh, him and Val squeezing up to share a chair so they can be as close as possible to one another. 

“Yeah, but he plays fancy stuff,” he laments, his free hand squeezing Olive’s waist a little more. 

“What exactly is fancy stuff, Doug?” Val asks with a laugh. 

“You know, opera and stuff.”

“Classical music is nice,” Val reasons to him, her eyes softly narrowing at him. “Nonna plays a lot of classical Italian at home. It’s actually quite nice.”

“Hey, Ol,” Dougie asks, nudging her a little. “What does Pearl play?”

She smiles, happy that this is a question she can answer truthfully.

“A lot of Glenn Miller in her house,” she sighs, another reminder to go back to her and reality looming over her. 

“She has good taste,” Ev offers, nodding. 

“Heh, yeah. She sure does.”

The four of them excitedly begin exchanging anecdotes about their families, Helen and Tattie joining them while Ev is in the middle of a story, regarding his mother and how she dealt with his rebellious behavior as a child.

“All I heard was, and it scared the life out of me, let me tell ya, was ‘Everett Ernest, if you so much as look at that vase–’”

“Wait, wait!” Olive shakes her head, wanting to make sure she heard him correctly. “Your middle name is Ernest?”

“Yes, and what of it, English?”

“I'm sorry, it's just–” she is cut off by the sound of a cackle erupting from her own throat, clutching her stomach as her eyes squeeze shut. “I didn't expect that. You don't–” she squeals, trying to compose herself. “You don't look like an Ernest, that's all.”

“Go on then, what's yours?”

“Maude,” she giggles, catching the glint in his eye as she says it. 

“Maude? Jesus, Ol, that's somehow worse than Ernest!” It's his turn to laugh now, the pair of them throwing their heads back and laughing loudly into the night. 

“I think it's cute,” Dougie says, sweetly tapping her nose with his finger. 

“Thank you! I think so too.” Her nose wrinkles sweetly as he touches it, him mirroring her expression and pulling her into a quick peck on the lips. 

Tattie lights one of the last cigarettes in the pack, passing it between the group. 

Helen, the most inexperienced smoker of them all but not wanting to be the odd one out, keeps coughing at each drag she takes. The dainty little noises leave her every few seconds, her chest heaving delicately as if she were a sickly little kitten.

“Helen, doll,” Olive urges. “Put that out. You're hurting yourself!”

“I don't wanna look like the party pooper!”

“I can promise, you're not,” she laughs, gesturing with a wave of her hand to give her the cigarette, the tip covered in her lipstick. As she stubs it out, she sees four men round the corner, all of them wide eyed and seeming to be taking in their new surroundings. Val looks up with a grin and waves, beckoning them over while Helen visibly swoons at the sight of the thin, dark haired pilot. 

“Ohhhh,” Olive says, knowingly. “That'll be Nash, then.” Helen simply giggles, tucking an invisible strand of her behind her ear.  “There is no hair loose, my girl,” Olive guffaws, shaking her head. 

“Ol, come meet the new fellas!” Valencia calls, three of the four in front of her. Nash had made his way over to Helen without a hello, his target clear from the moment he'd seen her leaning against the wall of the hut. 

“This is Robert,” Val begins. “Speas here is Nash's co-pilot and…where's he got to?”

“I'll give ya three guesses,” the round faced blond man perks up, eyebrows wiggling.

“That was fast. He's keen.”

“Sure is. Sorry, Miss…?” he says, looking at Olive.  

“Lewis. Olive Lewis.”

 “No way!” he gestures to himself, patting his chest three times in a fit of excitement. “Pappy Lewis!” 

“Oh, what?!” she squeals, clutching on to his arm. “I mean,” she stutters. “It's a pretty common name, Pappy.”

“Never met a Brit with the same one before though. Truth be told, never met a Brit til just now.”

“It's your lucky day. A Brit and a long lost cousin,” she jokes, stubbing out the last of her cigarette. 

“Oh! You're right! Hey, Rosie!” he calls over to him, not realizing he's still stood right next to him so he almost deafens the curly haired pilot. “Came all the way to England to find my cousin!”

“Pappy, she's not–”

“Long lost cousin Olive,” he says, pulling her into a hug. Olive pulls away as he loosens his grip on her, platonically grabbing his arm to lead him over to Ev and Dougie. Olive catches sight of Everett talking in hushed tones to Dougie, his hand on his shoulder. Ev is carrying an expression that's rarely seen, his brow softly furrowed and his body squared up as if to cover Dougie’s from where he is sat. The pair seem to be speaking softly, Ev obviously talking Dougie down from a mood that hasn't been apparent thus far. Olive worries, instantly trying to break the ice between them and her new friend. She rifles in her pocket and pulls out the box of cigarettes, somehow hoping that a simple gesture will give some ease to the surrounding atmosphere.

“Smoke?” she offers to Pappy as they reach the two men. “You guys have–”

“We've met,” Dougie says sharply, taking the last pull of his Lucky Strike as he stands. 

“Doug…” Everett urges, gesturing for him to sit back down. Olive can clearly see Dougie’s neck tightening, a vein beginning to pop out on his forehead. His face is covered with a thin sheen of sweat, him wiping at his brow quickly as Olive takes in his expression, her eyes full of concern. 

“Excuse me, Pappy,” she says, placing herself in front of James. “Honey,” she soothes. “What's up?”

“Nothing,” he replies, his voice meek and quiet. “It's nothing.”

“You wouldn't be acting like this if it was nothing.” She puts a hand on his face, before raking her fingers through his dark hair. “Come on, come with me.”

She links her fingers with his and takes him to a quieter spot, the back of the hut where they can't be seen. Instantly, she crosses her arms and shakes her head, as if to urge him into telling her what's going on.  “Well?” 

“I need you to know I'm not mad,” he begins, his eyes stuck on a spot on the pavement below. “I just…I get uneasy sometimes.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Someone - an old girlfriend - stepped out on me. Was unfaithful and I don't–”

“My goodness. I could never. I would never.”

He sighs, the back of his head against the wall as he breathes out. “I just need to know you're my girl.”

“Oh, James,” she mollifies, lifting his chin to have him look at her. “I'm your girl.”

“What if you change your mind?” He sounds so unlike himself, his voice, so small and meek, barely above a whisper as it cracks just a little.

“I will never change my mind. D'you hear me?” He nods, his blue eyes suddenly swimming. “Never, ever. However long you want me for, at least.”

“Oh, I'm planning on a really long time.”

“Good,” she smiles, pulling him closer to kiss her. “I'm yours. Okay? And when you feel ready, you can tell me the whole story.”

“Okay.” The deep breath he seems to have been holding escapes him, Olive seeing his chest collapse a little with relief. He smiles at her, gently stroking her face. “Hey, you think we can sneak in and do some more reading?”

“No chance of that, darling,” she says, nodding towards the group still outside. “But I’m sure we can read here for a little bit. Maybe a bedtime story, hm?” She grins at him, and he catches a cheeky glint in her deep brown eyes as she kisses him, open mouthed and firm. He gently pushes her against the wall, her opening her legs slightly to accommodate his lean body pressing on hers. Gentle moans pass between their mouths as they kiss, pushing their tongues together, trying to find a moment to breathe. His hand gently strokes down her neck, her eyes squeezing further shut to bite off a groan that’s trying to escape from her throat. It’s when he softly presses his fingers on the area he is holding that the moan crawls from her mouth and into his, him laughing on her lips in return. 

“You’re fresh, James Douglass,” she murmurs, his lips capturing hers again as the hand eases its grip. She finds his bottom lip with her tongue and gently nibbles, her hands finding themselves in his hair, softly gripping his hair and mussing it, the pomade slightly sticky upon her fingertips. She doesn’t care. All she cares about is the man in front of her, his mouth moving and working upon hers as if he never wanted to kiss another woman this way ever again. She shivers at his touch, the hairs all over her body standing on end as he plants soft kisses on her jawline and neck, making Olive quietly moan, her warm breath condensating in the dark, starry evening. 

“Can we say goodnight like this all the time?” he mumbles into her skin, his tongue finding her jugular. 

“Yes please,” she whines, her hips bucking into him as she goes to grab him once again. “And good morning, good afternoon, good evening…” her voice drifts off as he presses his lips to hers again, silencing her. He teasingly breaks away as she gasps, sighing in frustration. She catches sight of him in the moonlight and cackles for a second, his kiss-swollen lips covered in her lipstick. A familiar voice booms over the whole base, shocking the couple slightly. “The light was on. Everyone get back to your racks,” followed by a very stern  “James Douglass. Bed. NOW!”

“I’m beginning to think we need to find better hiding spots,” Olive says, rolling her eyes.

“Come on,” he whispers, pulling her off the wall. “They’ll be wondering where we got to.”

“Oh, I think they’ll know. Come here, love,” she says, pulling a spare handkerchief from her pocket. “You need this.”

“Do I look pretty?” he pouts, leaning forward to get her to clean his face. 

“Always, doll,” she reassures, touching his nose with her own. “There,” she nods, not a smear of lipstick to be seen. “They’ll never suspect a thing!”

The two round the corner, still giggling from their little tryst as they catch Val smiling sweetly at them. She gives them a little wave as she makes her way into the hut, leaving the door open for Olive. The lull of the night surrounds them as they quietly bid one another goodnight. A sweet kiss planted on her lips makes her toes curl. He kisses her cheeks, her nose, her forehead and touches her nose with his one final time. No words are spoken; it’s as if nothing else needs to be said, the actions seeming to do the talking. She watches as he turns and walks away into the night, Olive finding herself thanking the stars above for bringing her here.

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @archival-hogwash @lestweforget5 @butterfly9012

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 7

part one part two part three part four part five part six

masterlist olive's playlist ao3

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @derry-rain @bobparkhurst @bloodynereid @archival-hogwash

A misunderstanding may lead to the end of two relationships, one blossoming, the other solidified. The girls take comfort in one thing: the knowledge that they have each other.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Olive shrieks as she collapses on her bed, her face a blotchy mess of tears and snot. 

“Jesus, was it that bad?” Val teases, applying cold cream on her face.

“We know you prefer Dougie, but come on, Ol. Be fair,” Helen joins in, before seeing Olive’s face and realizing that now is not the time for jokes. Olive begins to explain, her two friends looking on in concern.

“Benny and I agreed to be just friends,” she whimpers, taking a handkerchief from Helen’s fingers and dabbing her face. “We embraced. It was just friendly, and we just talked. He knows how I feel about Dougie and how Dougie feels–felt for me.” She sniffles again, Helen’s bright eyes widening as Olive carries on with the explanation, Val crouching in front of her and taking her hand as Olive softly sobs.

 “S-sorry,” she stutters. “I’m trying to be tough but I’m so–”

“Enough of that, Olive. You don’t need to be tough with us. We’re your family. We wanna see it all,” Helen soothes.

“Okay,” she breathes, trying to calm herself down. “Anyway, Dougie must’ve followed us and saw us hug because…” Another sob catches in her throat, new tears falling down her face and causing her perfectly applied mascara to begin running down her cheeks, black trails to form upon them. “He’s so…” she gestures with her hands, trying to pick the right word from her overloaded brain. “Angry.”

“Oh, honey,” Val breathes out, stroking Olive’s hand. “Hey, don’t let it worry you. He was probably just drunk and not thinking straight, hm?” Olive nods, in unison with Helen, causing the bed to shake and squeak slightly. “He’ll be fine by the morning. He’ll see you in that truck, making him a coffee and he’ll forget he was ever angry the second he sees your pretty smile, mkay?”

“Okay,” she whimpers, smiling wanely at her friends. “How was your little tryst in the Mess Hall, Miss DiRosano? Good for you, by the way.”

“What tryst?” She replies, brow furrowed in confusion. Helen gives Val the side eye, her smile making her cheeks turn pink.

“We saw you and Ev make a beeline for the mess hall when the siren went off, and–”

“I was hungry,” she blushes, smiling at herself in the small mirror.

“Oooohhh!” The girls squeal at the same time, begging for more details as they giggle like schoolgirls.

“Anything more than the cockpit incident?” Helen asks, her face turning a different shade of red than Val’s.

“Cockpit incident?” Olive gasps, waiting for one of them to include her in the story.

“I’ll tell you later, doll. Much too late for all that now. I'll just tell you that a table is far more comfortable than the cockpit of a plane.” 

Val walks up to Olive, jar of cold cream in hand and crouches in front of her once again. “Close your eyes, girlie. Time to get ready for bed.” 

Olive feels Helen begin to unpin her hair, brushing it with her fingers as she makes it loose. “Thanks, girls. Don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“And you'll never have to know,” Helen soothes, pulling the final pin out of her hair. “You’re stuck with us.”

— 

“Morning, ladies,” Ev greets, his eyes sparkling with excitement as Val rushes to greet him with a chaste kiss. 

“Hey, Blakely,” Olive greets, placing two cups down in front of him. “That one’s yours,” she gestures, pointing to the one on the right. “The other is for Dougie.”

“I don’t think coffee is gonna make it up to him, Olive,” he says, the furrow in his brow rivaling his girlfriend’s. “He’s really upset.”

“If he’d just listen to me,” she urges, head pounding with the lack of sleep and dehydration from the sporadic tears that keep sprouting out of her eyes. “If you could get him to see reason, I’d be–”

“Oh, I’m staying out of it,” he responds, taking the cup on the right. “None of my business if he wants to forgive you or not.”

“I didn’t do anything!” She feels herself getting hot, the anger soaring through her veins.

“Honey,” Val coos, patting his shoulder. “She didn’t do anything wrong. They were just talking about being–”

“Of course you’d believe her. She’s your friend,” he turns from her and back to Olive. “You led my friend on and I’m not okay with that.”

“Ev, darling,” Val urges, following him as he begins to depart. “She’s telling the truth…” The conversation trails off as they get further away, Olive turning towards whoever is next at the window. 

—

As evening draws near, the girls, including Tattie, clean up the truck and the surrounding areas, ready for tomorrow. Another grounded, non-mission day didn’t change how busy they’d be - the boys would be milling between them, the hardstands and the briefing rooms all day, stopping for the occasional donut or pack of cigarettes. It’s when they’re closing the door of the truck that Dougie walks past, head down and eyes looking sunken from lack of sleep. Olive, not missing a beat, rushes towards him.

“Dougie? Can we please talk?”

“I have nothing to say to you,” he says as he keeps walking, brushing her off. “Save it for Benny.”

“I'd like to exp–”

“No need. I thought we were…” He sighs, a harsh breath pushing through his nostrils as he stops. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Find time, James. Nothing is going on between Benny and I. We are just friends!”

“That’s not what it looked like last night,” he sighs, his shoulders drooping as he sees Olive’s eyes grow misty at his tone.

“If you’d just listen to me for one damn minute,” she urges, trying to hold back the tears. It makes her voice squeak, the effort of keeping it in causing her chest to tighten, her neck straining with it all, too.

“No,” he says simply, and walks away. 

Olive trudges back to her friends, letting the tears flow freely. 

“Oh, darling,” Tattie consoles. “He’s not worth it.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her hip flask, making sure Chick isn’t around to see. “Here,” she says, opening the lid and handing it to her. “Take a little drink. It’ll calm your nerves.” Olive does as she's told, hoping the burn of the alcohol will somehow soften some of the pain. She opens her eyes to Tattie lighting two cigarettes, handing one to Olive as she stops wincing at the taste of the whiskey. 

“Now,” she says, her eyes softening. “Coming to the club?”

Olive shakes her head, leaning against the truck and taking a deep drag of the cigarette. “No. Just going to bed,” she fibs, intent on heading to Pearl’s once the sun sets.

“Well, let us know. You know we’re gonna look after you.”

“Yeah,” she replies weakly, feeling Meatball sniff at her ankles in greeting.

“Hey, Ol!” Benny greets cheerfully, walking up to her.  He sees her tear stained face and stops at the sight of it, his eyes darting around the space, seemingly ready to confront whoever has got his friend in this state.

“What’s all this? Who’s upset you?” He looks accusingly at Tattie, his eyes trying to find either of the other girls.

“Oh, no. Not them, Benny.” She laughs at the thought, knowing those are the people who would never do her wrong.

 “Your anger is misplaced, doll,” Tattie laughs, patting Olive on the shoulder as she locks the door of the truck.

“Then who? Dougie?”

“Y-yeah,” she sniffs, tears dropping on to the end of the cigarette and extinguishing it, causing Olive to groan in exasperation. “He saw us hug last night and thinks I chose you.”

“Did you tell him what we were talking about?”

“Tried. He won’t listen. Doesn’t want to,” she says, dropping the cigarette on the floor and stomping on it in a rage.

“I can try talking to him?”

“Oh, yeah, Benny, I'm sure that would go down a treat.” She rolls her eyes, instantly regretting it, sighing at her own tone.

“Hey, I’m just trying to help, Ol.”

“I know, I know, darling. I’m just–I’m sorry, okay?”

“No need. You need me to walk you back?”

“No thanks, Ben. Just need some time alone, then going to bed. I’ll see you later though, yeah?”

“Of course. Get the girls to let me know if you need anything, okay?” Olive nods, reaching to hug him. 

“Thanks, Benny. You’re a good egg.”

“I know. Now, where’s that smile?” 

She remains stone faced, until he gently pokes at her face where he knows her dimple usually sits. It tickles, making her grin automatically. 

“There we go. Come on, Meatball. Bye, Ol!”

— 

Once the girls have made their way to the club, Olive sneaks out of the hut. Bag in hand to be able to bring more belongings from Pearl’s, she makes her way to the hardstand just as the sun is setting, the sky a beautiful shade of burnt orange. The moment she feels the warmth upon her face, the sadness slip away for just a moment. She turns her head towards it, putting her face right in the center of the sun’s rays. Looking around, she spots Kenny who is deep in patching flak holes, but senses her staring at him. He raises a hand, waving and then nodding towards the door of Just A-Snappin. He has left stairs underneath the open door for her. She places a hand on her heart, suddenly emotional all over again. 

“Can I see a new dollar?” He yells across the hardstand.

“They look the same, Kenny. I'm sorry, fella.”

“Well, heck. Guess a beer tomorrow night will have to do then. See ya in a minute.”

“Yeah, start counting, Lemmons. I'm curious.”

Clambering up the stairs and pulling the door shut, Olive finds herself breathing heavily in a panic, hoping once again that this isn't goodbye.

—

Olive swings open the gate to Pearl’s as quick as she can, knowing that just being in her presence will soothe any pain. She opens the door to the buzz of the television playing Pearl’s favorite daytime hospital drama, Joan pottering in the kitchen and clearing up lunch.

“Hey, Pearly Girly. Nice lie in?”

“Lovely, thank you, my girl. Thanks for telling Joan to not drag me out of bed.”

“I told her you probably needed it after yesterday,” she giggles, the misery headache going away almost immediately. “Is she bringing you biscuits again?”

“Yes!” She says, her voice going up an octave with the joy of the remark. “I must have been nice to her today.”

Right on cue, Joan enters, carrying a tray with two cups, all the fixings for tea and the teapot. 

“For you both,” she says, pulling a tea towel off a small plate to reveal two chocolate eclairs, Pearl’s favorite. 

“I’d say you’re back in her good books, Grandma,” she says, taking a bite right from the pastry without grabbing a plate. “Thanks, Joan,” she swallows, smiling at her.

“I’m off. John’s funeral is this afternoon, and–”

“Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell me?” Olive urges, suddenly embarrassed that Joan was at work on a day like today. She holds a hand up, stopping her and shakes her head.

“Being here takes my mind off it. I wanted to be here today. I wanted you to be able to go to work, too. I don’t want you stopping your life for even a short time for a little old lady like me.”

“But it’s your husband’s funeral, woman!” 

She breathes out, her hand on her heart. “It’s not really goodbye. It’s just a confirmation he won’t be coming back, but I know I’ll see him again. I said my farewells at the hospital. This is for everyone else that didn’t.” She picks up her bag, patting Pearl on the shoulder as she starts to leave. “See you tomorrow, friend.”

“Joan,” she says, wiping her mouth quickly. “Thanks for coming over today.

“Never a chore when it’s you, pal.”

— 

Pulling on an old pair of leggings and an oversized shirt, Olive feels comfortable for the first time in days. Despite the jumpsuit making her look good, it wasn't necessarily comfortable and she felt her whole body relax as the softer material touches her skin. After filling her bag with a few more makeup products, moisturizer, losing count of the amount of underwear she shoves in the discreet pocket of the bag, she exits the room to hurry into the kitchen, intent on preparing dinner.

“What d'ya want for dinner, Grandma?” She pauses for a second, considering the options.

“Beans on toast?”

“Oh, lovely. Exactly what I need,” Olive declares, turning to go back into the kitchen.

“Hold on a minute, Ollie Pop,” she says, startling Olive a little.

“What's up, Pearl?”

“You look like shit.”

“Oh, thanks!”

 “Not sleeping well?”

“I'm fine, Grandma. Just still adjusting to all this.” It was true. Journeying from here to her friends was starting to become physically exhausting, not getting a full night's sleep, afraid she'd be missing from either place if she was gone for too long.

“You need your rest, Olive!”

“I'm grand, promise. It's only been a month.” 

“Hmm,” Pearl replies, her eyes squinting at her. “If you say so.”

“I do say so. I'll let you know if I need some time off, but right now, I'm doing just fine. Now,” she says, taking a deep breath to try and waylay the tears pricking at her eyes. “Hungry?”

—

Giving up on rest after tossing and turning for hours, resigning to catching a few hours once she's back at the hut later, Olive begins to write a new analysis of her favorite scene from Romeo and Juliet. This being the only thing she can focus on in the silent, wee hours, she scribbles out three back to back pages, her penmanship all over the place, twinning her erratic thoughts on the piece. With it, she attaches a letter:

Jules,

Let me know if I've still got it in me to study our favorite man; it's been a long time. I wrote this in a restless rush, dying to get the words out of my brain and onto the paper after a night of little sleep.

I don't know how much Brady has told you, so I will give you a quick synopsis: Dougie and Benny both made it clear they had feelings for me weeks ago, and I felt quite stuck in the middle, my friend. Benny, however, came to the realization that he saw me as a friend and told me so last night as he walked me home. Can you believe who saw the whole thing happen, both of us wrapped in what I saw as a platonic, friendly embrace to mark the start of a lasting friendship? Dougie has gone absolutely ballistic and I'm not quite sure what to do with myself. I have tried to reason with him, but he will not listen, nor can anyone make him. What would you do, my dear? Leave it alone? Keep at it? 

My brain is full of so many foggy thoughts that the only thing that settled them was writing this for you. I do hope we can be friends, Jules. You sound like my kind of person.

Hope to hear from you soon, 

Your friend, 

Olive. 

—

After Joan arrives, the two exchange pleasantries before Olive leaves, now back in the jumpsuit she's washed and ironed. 

“You look lovely, kid,” she says, removing her jacket and hanging it beside the door. Olive is surprised to see Joan back in her usual attire. Today, she has chosen baggy purple pants, a tie dye t-shirt and a pink ribbon in her hair. She looks wonderful, much more her usual self. 

“Oh, Joan!” she says excitedly at the sight of her. “Look at you! There she is! This is wonderful to see.” The pair smile at one another, before Olive grabs her bag, practically making a run for it out the door and down the lane.

Hopping the gate as she reaches the museum, the outline of Just A-Snappin is in sight through the early morning mist. 

Chucking her bag into the plane with a quick glance around, she hurls herself into the aircraft, slamming the door shut behind her. Within seconds, the door is open again, the sweet smell of honeysuckle filling her nostrils as she breathes in and out slowly. Without thinking, a single word leaves her lips: “Home.”

—

She catches Brady as she makes the walk from the plane to the hut, packing his pipe outside of his own barracks. 

“Can't sleep?” She says as she walks up to him, her head titled slightly as she asks.

“No,” he replies, placing the lit pipe in his mouth and puffing out the first stream of smoke through his nostrils. “I was thinking about Jules. That does it for me. It's either I lay in bed and feel myself almost begin to weep, or I come out here and pretend we're watching a sunrise together. It helps a little.”

“Oh, speaking of the sweet lady,” Olive says, rummaging in her bag. She pulls out the pages she has bound together with a red ribbon and hands them to him. “I wrote her this.” 

“Jeez,” he says, sucking air through his teeth, surveying the weight of the pad of paper she's just handed him. “You write her a novel?”

“No. Just a six page analysis of the balcony scene.” He laughs, eyes squeezed shut, them crinkling at the ends.

“She'll love this, Olive. Truly. I think her having a pen pal will really make her happy, too.”

“I feel the same. I can't wait to get to know her. I'm sure she'll love having someone to keep an eye on you, too.”

“Hey,” he protests. “What for?”

“While you write to her about being a tough guy, I'll be able to give her the real truth. Making sure you're eating, sleeping, whatever. Here, I'll start.” She clears her throat, pretending to scrawl on her hand.

“Dear Jules. Caught your fella outside at sunrise. Don’t believe what he's saying, the man never sleeps and smokes like a chimney.” 

He laughs through his nose, shaking his head. “I have a feeling she'll love you.”

“And I'll love her right back.”

—

A week passes, completing a day of work with the girls then rushing back to Pearl the same night. It was beginning to become hard to keep up with, the lack of sleep driving her into rages she hadn't experienced since the drama school days when the unbridled stress of performances would cause breakdowns.

The girls were becoming concerned and increasingly unsettled by it all, not to mention them not seeing her outside of work for days on end.

“Olive,” Helen urges one day, while Olive is furiously scrubbing a counter for the third time that hour. “Stop it. Talk to me.”

“I'm fine, Helen,” she replies, scrubbing so hard that they both hear her shoulder click. Helen takes the cloth from her hand, her hands now on her friend's face as she collapses into her. 

“Hey,” she assuages, her voice low. Her arms wrap around her as she sobs, her breath ragged as her chest heaves. “Darling, you can't keep doing this. Please talk to us.”

“There's nothing to say. Everything and nothing, all at once. I really fucked up, Helen.”

“No, no, you didn't. You can't blame yourself for what James assumes he saw that night. It wasn't your fault, Ol. It's unfair to make yourself feel this way.”

“I miss him, Helen.”

“I know, doll. I'll try talk to him again.”

“What? You've tried already?”

“While you've been absent from the club, I've been trying to soften him up. He's coming around; I don't think he wants to admit he's wrong and that he's upset you. He's stubborn,” she says, rubbing Olive’s back.

“Don't I know it,” she sniffs, wiping her eyes with her hand. “I'll come out tonight. I think I need it.” 

“Good!” 

Val enters the Clubmobile, face pinched and the furrow harsher than ever. “Not you too!” Helen protests, shaking her head. 

“What?” she replies, an edge to her tone. “Ev is taking Dougie’s side, I'm obviously taking Olive’s and it's like we're talking in fucking circles.”

“I'm sorry, Val,” Olive whimpers from across the truck, her fists clenched with the stress of the situation. “I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm sorry you and Ev are fighting because of me.”

She shakes her head, flipping open a magazine she had left on the counter earlier. “We're not fighting because of you, doll. We're fighting because of Douglass.”

“Val…” Olive begins to protest, her face beginning to pinch.

“No. It's not your fault. You're allowed to be friends with Benny. I'm friends with Curt while dating Ev. It's the same damn thing,” she snaps, flipping a page with such force it almost causes the magazine to rip. “That make sense to you?” she yells over her shoulder. The two girls nod, wide eyed at her tone. “Everett?” She shouts again, not looking up from her magazine. He comes around the corner, absolutely flabbergasted.

“Makes sense, Val,” he sighs, turning and skulking away slowly.

—

“Hi, girlies!” Val greets as she sees her two friends walk up to her outside the club. “Beautiful as ever, you two.” She stubs out a cigarette against the wall, moving to stand in front of Olive as James exits the club.

“Douglass.”

“Valencia. Ev's waiting for you inside,” he gestures behind him, apparently intent on making his way back to barracks. Val feels Olive’s ragged, nervous breath on the back of her neck as she tries to make eye contact with Dougie, her eyes glazing over and pleading with him wordlessly. 

“You look lousy, Ol,” Tattie says as she approaches the group that's congregated around the entrance. “Still not sleeping?” Olive shakes her head silently in response, nervously chewing at her bottom lip. 

“I'm sure Benny would give you some place to sleep, Olive, if he hasn't already,” James spits out, his face falling the second the words leave his mouth, instantly regretful as everyone sees Olive’s face crumple, letting out a whimper that turns into a sob. Right on cue, Everett exits the club to find what's keeping Val and hears what his friend has just said. 

“Dougie, Jesus Christ!” he shouts, shocked. 

What happens next all happens in some sort of slow motion. Valencia walks up to Dougie with her elbow launched back , her hand balled up into a tight fist with Tattie rushing up to her, wrapping her arms around her waist and pulling her away from him. 

“Val, no, no!” Tattie calmly urges, dragging Val away as she screeches at him, the shouts becoming almost guttural as her throat gives out. 

“You do not speak to her that way! You don't say things like that to my friend. How dare you, James Douglass! Look at the fucking state of her!” Everyone's mouth agape, they silently turn to Olive who is wrapped up in Helen’s arms. Helen's chin is on Olive's head as she strokes her hair and shushes her through all the ruckus as she sobs messily on her.  

“Olive,” James starts, his voice cracking.

“No!” Helen shouts, holding a hand up to his face. “You don't get to talk to her until everyone has calmed down.” Tattie looks at her in surprise, eyes agog that she's the one taking control of the situation. “Now,” she sighs, Olive feeling both of their heart rates come down to almost normal. “Can we please get a drink?”

Dougie begins to enter the club when Ev puts his fingers on Dougie’s chest to stop him from moving further. “Nope. You're gonna talk to her. You're gonna listen. You're not gonna be an asshole.”

“But I don't–” 

“I don't care. We were wrong,” he pauses, breath shaky. “I miss my Val. All we've done all week is bicker and defend you two and I don't want to go up in a few days knowing that the last damn thing I said to her could have been poisonous. Get it together, Doug.” He turns to Olive, hugging her for a second. 

“I misjudged you. I'm sorry.” 

“Go in there and get your girl, please,” she sniffles, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “She's been pissed.” 

“Believe me, I know. I've seen it.”

“She's scary, isn't she?” 

“Yep. And I love it.” 

—

“Come on,” Dougie murmurs as he grabs her hand and pulls her into the empty mess hall. She leans against a table, her arms crossed and tries her best to not make eye contact with him. 

“Hey,” he urges gently, walking up to her and tries to put his arms around her. “Talk to me.”

“Oh, now you're interested in talking to me? You're suddenly ready to hear what I've got to say? Give me a break, James,” she responds, pushing his hands away from her. That contact alone sends a hot flash through her body, wanting nothing more than for him to touch her.

“Ol, I'm sorry, I–”

“You just assumed what you saw and didn't bother to check, to listen or fucking hear me out. I'm really upset with you.”

“I know, honey, I'm–”

“Nuh-uh. You don't get to be sweet to me after all that; the absolute hell you've put me through this past week. It's been horrible, James.” 

“It's been awful for me, too,” he replies, almost whimpering, blinking rapidly as he takes a spot next to her, lighting a cigarette. “Tell me what happened.”

“Ugh, fine,” she relents, uncrossing her arms and placing her hands on the table to keep balance. Even him near her is enough to make her weak at the knees, his sweet cologne making its way through her nose.

“Benny walked me home, said he wanted to talk to me about something. Said he knew when to bow out because he saw how you looked at me, and how I looked at you. We agreed to be friends, and we hugged goodnight. That's it.” 

“Ah, fuck,” he winces. “I really got it wrong, didn't I?”

“Yeah, you bloody did. Did you not think to ask someone? Even if you didn't want to talk to me right then, you could've asked Helen or Tattie. Val was telling the truth.”

“I know. I just felt stupid and I'm…” he struggles to find the words, his eyes fixed to the floor.

“Fucking stubborn, is what you are, James.” She sighs, finally lifting her head up to face him. “Think about it. Have you seen me with Benny since?”

“No,” he shrugs, handing her the half smoked cigarette. She takes it, shakily taking a drag as they share a moment of silence. He breaks it first, clearing his throat.

“Jesus, I've missed you, Olive.”

“I've missed you, too, James. But all this,” she gestures, the cigarette extinguishing as she stubs it in an ashtray, “has been fucking ridiculous.”

“I feel like a damn idiot.”

“As you should.”

“I'm sorry, Ol.” 

“Thank you,” she breathes, their eyes meeting. She feels that familiar, delicious pit in her stomach as he looks at her, her toes almost curling at the sensation of warmth washing over her. 

“So, you chose me, huh?”

“I did,” she smiles, beginning to walk away. He grabs her hand, pulling her back. 

“I really, really missed you.”

“Me, too,” she sighs, their faces coming closer together. Dougie traces his fingers over the line of her jaw before gently grabbing her chin to pull her even closer to him. 

“Please kiss me, James,” she gasps, feeling the pad of his thumb swipe her bottom lip softly. She takes a sharp intake of breath as she places her arms around his neck, her hands toying with his curls. “I might die if you don't kiss me soon.”

“Well, we can't have that, can we?” His thumb gently stroking her cheek, their lips touch sweetly, before his mouth opens on hers, her lips parting as he does so. It's clumsy, the two of them gasping for air each time they begrudgingly break apart, not wanting the moment to end. She clings to him as she perches on one of the mess tables, his hands gripping her waist in such a way that she finds herself moaning into him as he squeezes her. His tongue slips into her mouth, them both groaning quietly, barely able to catch their breath, kissing one another with the hunger of a starved man. His hands are caressing their way up her body when they hear a bang on the window pane.

Helen and Val knock loudly, their faces a picture of giddiness and relief. Helen, blushing, jokingly salutes Dougie before falling over laughing while Val shouts something incoherent through the glass before running into the club again. 

“I've wanted to do that for a really long time,” he sighs, kissing her softly on the mouth, over and over again.

“I have, too,” she purrs, nuzzling herself into his neck and planting a gentle kiss upon the skin she can reach. 

“Look at me,” he says, his voice low. “I really am sorry. Knowing I made you that upset breaks my heart.”

“I forgive you,” she replies, seeing his body relax with the relief her statement brings. “Just stop assuming things. We can talk about anything and I won't lie to you. Okay?”

“Okay,” he smiles. 

“Now, please. Kiss me again.”

He doesn't hesitate, not for a second, his mouth on hers before she's even finished asking. It's in this moment that she knows she's where she belongs.

[blakelysco-pilot]

I've Got A Crush (On You)

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

Everett Blakely x Valencia DiRosano (OC)

There are days at Thorpe Abbotts that some would call low maintenance. Those are the days where Benny DeMarco is just a boy with his dog, John Egan gets to play baseball, and Everett Blakely is just a guy who gets to romance a pretty girl the best way he can given the circumstances.

Part One Follow along with the Eight To The Bar Playlist

Warnings: Making out with Blakely should be a warning in itself, so, that and some heavy petting. Proceed as you see fit.

Some days, life on base moved quickly. There was the hustle of early mornings, brewing enough coffee to indeed fuel an army, and make sure that each man was sent off with a wink and a smile before a mission. The sounds of engines roaring from the hardstand, the ground crew shouting at each other as each plane taxied and ultimately, took off into the clouds. Those were the days that seemed to never end; waiting for the return with bated breath, counting the planes as they approached the air field, looking for red or green flares to indicate if a fort was carrying wounded onboard. 

Then there were the days that seemed to stretch into nothingness. Breakfast in the Mess Hall was a relaxed affair. The boys would sit around and sip their coffee leisurely, the Red Cross girls all crowded at a table near the back, gossiping about this and that, until one of the boys would walk by and silence them with a wink and a smile. They would spend those days helping out the nurses in the hospital, refilling and restocking what they’d need when a mission day would roll around. They would prepare what they could on the Clubmobile truck, or indulge themselves in some reading, or a walk into town if the weather was favorable. Some of the girls who were handy with a needle and thread would offer to patch up the stray jacket, or sew a patch to someone's sleeve if they needed. None of the Flyboy’s were going to do that themselves if they could help it. On days like those, Val would often be in Chick Harding’s office, to type out the odd letter or mission debrief that wasn’t too gory. 

“You can’t see that one,” He’d said one day. “It’s too much.”

“I grew up with Curt Biddick. Nothing is too much.”

From that point on, they’d come to respect each other in some weird way. Val suspected it had to do with the fact that he typed slower than her grandmother back in New York and she couldn’t type at all. 

Today was one of those days. The base was a bit relaxed; Ken Lemmons and his crew were working tirelessly to patch up the forts that had come back from the last raid. Some of the pilots were hanging around the hardstand, watching to make sure their planes were in good shape, asking questions or simply keeping the ground crew company. Benny DeMarco was playing fetch with Meatball in the field, taking advantage of the rare sunshine. Tattie had coerced Bucky into driving her down to the hardstand with coffee and donuts for the boys working, and Helen was helping stock the hospital. Val had been summoned to Harding’s office after breakfast, and as lunchtime rolled around, she was putting the finishing touches on the report of a mission that had been green flares on the return. 

Pushing back from the typewriter, she stretched her arms out, before standing, pulling the paper from behind the ribbon, and stacking it on top of the others she had already completed. Chick was sitting at his desk, puffing away at his cigar, reading the paper when she approached.

“Val, you should have been a correspondence gal instead of joining the Red Cross.” He grinned, hand outstretched to accept her offering of the reports. 

“And miss out on making coffee and donuts for you fellas?” She rolled her eyes with a sarcastic grin, folding her hands under her bust. “Is that all you got for me today?”

“Yea, go on. Looks like Biddick is lingering outside, kids probably waiting for you.” He craned his head back to peer out the window, spotting Curt sitting on the stairs of the control tower, smoking a cigarette. 

“Pain in my ass.” She shook her head with a sigh, and offered a wave as she turned to leave the office. 

“You always call him that.” Chick called after her. 

“Because he is!” She called back from down the hall, not missing the slight scowl from some of the secretaries. Apparently having the affections of both Curt and Ev Blakely had put her out of their favor, in some strange way. They didn’t mind when she brought them the leftover donuts from the truck though; then she was in their favor it seemed. 

Pushing the door open, she immediately spotted Curt, still on the stairs of the control tower. Walking across the path towards him, she stood, blocking the sun from his face with her hands on her hips. Just as she looked down at him, he looked up, a cheeky smile on his face, his crush cap sitting at a jaunty angle on his head. 

“Heya!”

“Hi Curt…”

“Why do you sound so put off, eh? I just wanted to say hi to my best friend!”

“You want something.”

“I can’t just say hi?”

“Sure you can” She began walking towards the direction of the Red Cross hut, and Curt quickly jumped to his feet to follow her. “But it’s usually accompanied by a favor, so spit it out.”

“Val…” He groaned.

“Curtis Biddick. Spit it out.”

He heaved a giant sigh, before launching into the favor she knew he needed from her. 

“You uh, remember the other night at the pub?”

“When you clocked that RAF clown? Sure, I do.”

“I ripped my shirt.” He ducked his head down, looking anywhere but at Val. 

“Fuck sake, Curt…” 

“Could you please, please, be a doll and patch it up for me?”

“Your mother would give you a clip on the ear if she heard that.”

“I said please!”

“No, that you tore your shirt fighting.”

“Oh…” He whispered, and she could see him fighting the urge to get melancholy for home.

“Bring it by the hut after dinner and I’ll see what I can do.” She had finally conceded. 

“You’re the greatest, ya know that?”

“So you like to remind me,” She stopped outside the hut, turning to face him. “Not that I’m not enjoying this conversation, Curt, but this is where I leave you.”

“Yeah alright, bye doll face!” He tipped his hat and gave her an exaggerated half bow, before turning and heading in the opposite direction of the Red Cross hut. 

Just as she was about to push the door open to the hut, a jeep came rounding the corner, the gravel crunching under its tires. She was quite surprised to see Helen in the passenger seat, Harry Crosby behind the wheel and Bubbles in the back.  

“Well, look at this trio!” She grinned as Harry stopped the jeep in front of her. 

“Val, get in!” Helen grinned, waving her hand wildly. “We’re headed down to the hardstand!”

“What’s going on down there?” She conceded to Helen’s request, climbing into the jeep and settling next to Bubbles, who tossed an arm over her shoulder almost instantly.

“Uh, Bubbles?”

“Croz has a lead foot. Trust me.”

Nodding, Val leaned forward just a bit so that she could speak to Helen.

“So why are we going to the hardstand?”

“Well, DeMarco was playing fetch with Meatball, but when Bucky showed up, it turned into a small ball game with some of the boys.” Val didn’t miss the wink that Helen threw her way, indicating that a certain Captain Blakely was likely to be down there with the other men, and that Val might like to witness the sight for herself. 

“We all know how Egan is when it comes to baseball…” Val rolled her eyes, one hand gripping the seat as Croz took a particularly sharp turn. Bubbles tightened his grip on her shoulder, and she didn't miss the knowing look he gave her as if to say I told you so. In a bid to distract herself from Croz’s formidable driving, she continued the conversation. 

“You two plan on joining the game?” Val turned to look at Bubbles. 

“Oh no, but it’s good fun to see the Major pretend he’s Mickey Mantle.” Bubbles snickered, loosening his grip on her shoulder as Croz turned onto the road that led to the hardstand, the jeep coming to a stop.  

It was no surprise that John Egan had organized a semi professional- his words- shirts versus skins ball game that had Gale Cleven shaking his head from where he was perched on his own jeep. The Major looked like an extra from Test Pilot, but that wasn’t immediately what pulled Val’s attention away from the trio she was with. It was Everett Blakely standing in the makeshift outfield, uniform shirt unbuttoned, green army issue tank tucked into his trousers. His hair, normally styled to perfection, had come free of the gel, and was curling over his forehead. His hazel eyes were hidden behind a pair of aviator sunglasses and he was laughing at something Hambone had said. When the bombardier caught sight of her, his sharp elbow had lodged itself in Everett’s ribs, the pilot scowling at his friend before following the other man's gaze. His grin widened as soon as he spotted Val.

The brunette perched on the hood of a jeep in her Red Cross jumpsuit, legs tucked underneath her criss cross applesauce, her red lips stretched into a smile as she laughed at something Helen had said. He watched as Tattie bounded over towards the other two girls, the trio now squeezing to make room so they could all watch comfortably from the hood of the jeep. Croz and Bubbles remained with them. They kept offering up commentary that he couldn't hear but wished desperately that he could, because they kept making Val laugh, and Everett Blakely wanted to be the one to do that. Especially on a day like today, with the sun shining across the airfield, the forts sitting pretty on the hardstand like statues, everyone was relaxed for a moment, and there was a pretty girl that he wanted to give all of his time to. He was so lost in the daydream that he barely heard Brady yelling for him to look out, almost missed the baseball flying at his head, and was almost out for the count had Hambone not pushed him out of the way to grab it before it hit the ground. 

“Christ, Blakely!”

“Sorry!” He hollered, looking between Ham and Brady with apologetic eyes. 

“Stop making eyes at Val,” Hambone mumbled under his breath so only Ev could hear him. “You get knocked in the head, you’re going to see Smokey, not to the Red Cross hut, dummy.”

Everett winced then, realizing that the last place he wanted to land was the hospital under the watchful eye of Doc Stover and the nurses, because he had been careless. That would get him nowhere with Val except farther away than where he wanted to be. Chancing a glance in her direction, he found her gaze focused on him, the sly smile on her lips telling him she had caught him staring, and watched him almost take a baseball to his head. With a slight shake of her head, she gestured for him to focus back on what he was doing as Ken Lemmons made a valiant attempt at scoring a run. In the end, the ground crew chief had been unsuccessful in his at bat, and Bucky had shouted for the end of the inning. 

“SEVENTH INNING STRETCH!” He called across the field, gathering those in the outfield to join the rest of the men around the cluster of jeeps. 

“Christ Bucky, I’m standing right here.” Tattie scowled up at him, his shouting having been from his spot directly beside her. 

“Sorry Tat…”

“Yea, yea, always sorry.” She shoved him playfully. 

Val hadn’t noticed Everett come up behind her on the left, until he was leaning beside her, lighting a cigarette. 

“Better be careful out there.” She turned to him with a wink. 

“Can’t help it,” He blew a puff of smoke out in front of him. “Saw something pretty.”

“Flirt.”

“And proud of it, sweetheart.”

“Better not be flirting with anyone else, Captain.”

“Just you, sweet cheeks.”

Val wrinkled her nose at the nickname, plucking his cigarette from between his lips to take a drag, before handing it back to him. 

“Okay, doesn’t like sweet cheeks.”

“Sounds funny.” She shrugged. 

“Aright, sweetheart, won’t use it again.”

“That’s better.”

“Yea? You’re my sweetheart then?” He grinned, leaning forward so his elbows were placed either side of her now outstretched legs. 

“Thought I already was…” 

“In that case, save me a dance tonight?”

“Just one?” She grinned, leaning forward to bait him.

“As many as you want, beautiful.” He leaned forward, lips brushing her cheek, mustache tickling her skin, causing her to giggle. He was in deep. He knew it, she knew it, and their friends knew it. Thank god he knew how to swim. 

Val knew that Curt wasn’t going to listen when she told him to drop his ripped shirt off after dinner, because when she had gotten back to the Red  Cross hut with Helen and Tattie, she saw him sneaking out with one of the nurses on his heels. That explains why she hadn’t seen him down at the makeshift ballgame earlier. 

“Oh Christ, was he with her the whole afternoon?” Tattie grumbled. 

“Looks like it,” Helen sighed. “Now our hut is going to smell like Curt Biddick and whatever cheap perfume she wears.”

“Val, can’t you scare her a little?”

“You know the answer to that, Tat. But I’ll try and get through to Curt.”

“At least tell Biddick to do it somewhere else. We’re not running a brothel.”

“What was he even doing in there?”

“Ripped his shirt the other night and asked me to patch it up. I told him to drop it off after dinner, not while I wasn’t there.”

“You should make him wait,” Tattie turned from where she was currently propping the door open with a spare chair to air out the hut. “It stinks in here.”

“I would, but who wants to hear Harding hemming and hawing about it.”

Tattie conceded at that, and left to go sit outside to smoke, while Val got settled on her bed with a small sewing kit, and Curt’s shirt. 

After dinner had concluded, the men and women all retreated to their respective huts to get ready for a night in the Officers Club. The boys would change into their Class A uniforms, shedding their bomber jackets and outdoor attire. The woolen jackets that hung above their beds would be pressed until each seam was meticulous, and their accolades would be pinned to their collars on full display. Curt’s shirt had magically reappeared by his bunk after dinner, and he had no doubt that Val was responsible. 

The Red Cross girls would happily divest of their jumpsuits, and step into lingerie, pantyhose and a clean uniform skirt and white blouse. Their jackets proudly displayed the Red Cross logo on the shoulders, and their hair that may have been haphazardly pinned or up in a scarf to get through the day, would be reset and pinned almost as best as a salon back home could do it. Each girl armed with their Victory Red lipstick and a pack of smokes, they would step into their heels, link arms, and make their way to the Officers Club to join the men. 

The band was playing something upbeat, and Val knew it was only a matter of time before Bucky would be singing his heart out with them, to almost everyone’s dismay. He was currently nursing a whiskey off by the bar with Buck and Curt, and she just barely caught him regaling the pair of the events of today’s game, even though everyone knew that Gale Cleven didn’t like sports and Curt was giving the nurse from earlier a look from across the room. When her gaze met his, she didn’t miss the wince that overcame his face as he watched her entire demeanor change. 

“Let me get you a drink!” Were his first words, turning to face the bar and missing Val’s hand coming up to grab on his ear. “Oww! Valencia!”

“In my hut! Have you lost your mind!” 

“I went to drop off my shirt and she, well…”

“My hut is not a brothel. Tattie’s pissed, Curt, so you’d better apologize.”

“I’m sorry!”

“To her, not me, though I will accept it.”

“Can you let go of my ear now? Jesus, what, did my Ma teach you that?”

“Get Tattie a drink and go over and apologize.” She relinquished his ear with one final tug, smoothing her own jacket before turning to Gale and John and offering them both a wide smile.

“Don’t know how you do it, Val, but you’re the only one he listens to.” Croz offered up from behind her. 

“Just a little tough love is all, Croz.”

“Well, it looks like he’s trying to smooth it over with Tattie.” Bubbles pipped up. Where one was, the other was not far behind. 

“She’s going to make him work for it,” Val laughed, turning back to the bar to order a drink. “And he should work for it. Brought that filthy nurse into our hut.”

“I’ll talk to Smokey,” Bucky offered. “She’s, uh, been a bit of a problem with some of the other men, and honestly, I don’t need anyone else getting sick.”

“Sick… oh my god! Did she… you weren’t kidding about Dye were you!”

Before Bucky could answer or Val could run off and find Helen and Tattie with the gossip, she felt a gentle hand at her elbow. She turned to find Everett standing in front of her, sharp as a tack in his uniform and holding a drink for her. 

“My hero!” Val cheered, accepting the drink from him with a smile, leaning up on her toes to drop a  kiss to his cheek. “Thank you, Everett.”

“Saw you putting in some hard work with Curt, and thought you might be thirsty.”

“Oh Christ, I’m sorry you saw that.”

“The ear thing? Absolutely terrifying. My mother used to do that when I was a kid if I didn’t listen.”

“Sounds like your mother and I would get along.”

“I’m counting on it.” 

“Well aren’t you smooth.” Val winked, lifting the glass to her lips, taking a sip, not missing the way he watched her. 

With a quirk of his lips, Everett let his hand rest gently on Val’s back as he led her to a table that he had secured earlier with Douglass. He didn’t need to ask if she wanted to go sit with him, there was an understanding that seemed to just happen when the pair were together. Besides, he knew she’d want to nurse that first drink before he got her out on the dance floor- hopefully before John Egan decided to serenade them all. 

Approaching the table, Val found that Douglass was sitting between Helen and Tattie, and he looked absolutely engrossed in every word that passed between them. 

“You girls pick up a fourth while I was gone?” Val teased, sliding into the chair that Everett pulled out for her. He immediately took up the spot to her right, now sandwiched between her and Tattie, while Helen was to her left. 

“Don’t let him fool you, he’s good at the gossip.” Helen laughed, lighting a cigarette. 

“Oh! That reminds me!”

“Did you handle the nurse?” Tattie raised an eyebrow at her, causing both Everett and Douglass to turn to her with worried eyes. “Curt apologized by the way.”

“I saw, good.”

“Handle?” Douglass asked her. 

“I handled Curt.”

“What nurse? What exactly did Curt do?” Everett looked at her concerned, and she simply let her hand fall to his, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze. 

“I caught him sneaking out of the Red Cross hut with you know who today…” she started. 

“That one gets around.” Douglass sighed, shaking his head. 

“My god, Doug, you are a gossip queen!” Helen grinned. “What else do you know?”

“Let Val finish her story, then we can peel back the many complicated layers of James Douglass!” Tattie cackled. 

“Well, when I mentioned it to Bucky, he said he would have a word with Smokey about her, because he doesn’t need any other guys getting sick.”

“What kind of sick could she-“

Both Everett and James turned to each other, looks of sheer disgust crossing their faces as they realized what Val had just said. They too had heard the rumor about Dye, but no one could really figure out how it had started,  if it was true, or who gave it to him. 

“It was true about Dye,” Val spoke a bit lower. “She gave him the clap…”

“Oh she’s vile!” Helen exclaimed. 

“She certainly is,” Val agreed, before turning to the boys. “Now you two, if you’re going to sit with us and listen in, it’s a secret. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am.” Douglass mock saluted, cigarette between two fingers. 

“Ev?”

“Not a word, sweetheart, I got it.”

“Good,” she grinned, draining her drink just as the band moved into something softer. “Now, I think it’s time for a dance.”

“What the lady wants, she gets.” Everett grinned, taking one last sip of his own drink before taking her hand and leading her to the dance floor. 

“You think he’s alright over there?” Val quirked an eyebrow over towards where Douglass still sat between Helen and Tattie. 

“Don’t worry about him, he’s in heaven.” Everett chuckled, spinning her once before gently pulling her close, wrapping one arm around her back, the other holding hers. 

“They’ll eat him alive.” She chuckled lowly, her cheek pressed against his as he swayed them slowly. 

“Don’t wanna talk about Dougie while I’m dancing with you.” He gave her hip a gentle pinch causing her to scoot just a fraction closer to him. 

The arm she had wrapped around him settled firmly in place, her fingers dancing through the soft hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Hmm, then what do you want to talk about?”

“How cute you looked sitting on that jeep today.”

“I was in my jumpsuit, that’s hardly cute honey.”

“I think it’s adorable.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Absolutely,” He pressed his nose against her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo and perfume. “Everything about you is adorable.”

“I don’t think anyone has ever described me as adorable before,” she sighed. “Usually it’s difficult, loud, or my personal favorite, unladylike.”

“Not a shot,” Ev pulled back to look at her, his hazel eyes finding her green. “Anyone who said that didn’t know what a good thing they had.”

“You really are something, Everett Blakely.” Val sighed, moving back into him to let her head rest against his shoulder. 

“I hope that’s a good thing…”

Before Val could respond, the band picked up again, Blue Skies filling the room followed by a collective groan by everybody present. Everett and Val broke apart, now standing side by side as they waited for the inevitable. 

“ITS MY SONG, BUCK!” 

Looking towards the band, they both clocked Bucky dancing his way behind the microphone, his arms flailing wildly as he danced along with the music before he broke into song. 

“Has Buck never told him just how bad he sounds?” Val looked up at Everett from under his arm, her eyebrows almost meeting her hairline. 

“We’ve all told him,” He shook his head. “He doesn’t seem to care that he sounds like a donkey.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” She rolled her eyes. 

“Come on, let’s get a drink.”

Everett let his arm that was around her shoulder guide her back towards the bar, where Helen and Tattie were currently with Douglass and Benny DeMarco, Meatball at their feet. The poor dog wasn’t sure who he wanted to give his attention to at the moment, so he seemed to be moving between them. 

“Cute date, Benny!” Val grinned, bending down to scratch behind Meatball's ears. 

“I thought so too,” Demarco grinned. “He loves you girls.”

“Aww well we love him too.” Helen grinned, joining Val in giving the husky some attention. 

“Tat?” Benny looked over at her. “Do you not love him?”

“Of course I love him,” She shook her head. “I just don’t love when his fur is all over the clubmobile.”

“She’s got a point, Benny. Last week my donut had fur all over it.” John Brady had joined their group, the Upstate New Yorker’s usual stoic demeanor seemed softer in the lighting of the Officers Club. Val suspected he had gotten a letter from his sweetheart back home. 

Standing from where she was still crouched with the dog, she smoothed her skirt, accepting the martini glass from Everett with a grateful smile, his arm moving to wrap around her waist. He ducked down, lips pressed against her ear and spoke so only she could hear him. 

“Want to take these drinks to go?”

“Go where?” She looked up at him. 

“You trust me?” 

She answered without hesitation. 

“Yes.”

The pair made a quiet exit from the club; not saying goodbye to their friends, Everett led her out into the balmy summer air. He quickly lit two cigarettes, passing one to her as they walked, trying not to spill their drinks as they crossed the cobblestones and rocks that filled the paths between huts. 

“Everett where are we going?”

“Well, that jeep right there for starters,” he grinned, tugging her along to the jeep that sat parked outside the officers hut. John Egan’s jeep. 

“Is that Bucky’s?”

“Yea…”

“Does he know you’re borrowing it?”

“If I have to listen to him sing, this is the least he could do.” 

He guided her to the passenger side, and once she was settled in the seat, he handed her his whiskey, before making his way around and into the driver's seat. 

“Hang onto that for a minute, okay?” His words muffled as he spoke around the cigarette currently wedged between his lips. 

“Alright… but you still haven’t told me where we’re taking the stolen jeep.”

“Borrowed, not stolen,” He winked. “And can’t I surprise you?”

“Sure, sure,” She grinned. “But I’m not sure what’s out here that I haven’t seen already.”

“I’m sure I can change that.” He teased, turning the key in the ignition and shifting into gear. 

He drove them away from the Officers Club and the huts, down past the control tower and offices until finally he turned onto the road that led to the hardstands. Though he was a much better driver than Croz had been, Val still struggled to keep both drinks from spilling as he caught the occasional stray rock under the tires. 

When the jeep finally slowed, coming to a stop, Val looked up and immediately gasped at the fort that they had parked in front of. She knew they were big, but to see one so close, and with only the headlights of the jeep shining on it, made the B-17 parked in front of her look both eerie and incredible. The words Just-A-Snappin were painted on the nose, and Val couldn’t help the surprised look on her face as she turned to Everett. 

“This is yours!”

“Yea, this is my other girl.” He grinned, turning the engine off and pocketing the keys. “Thought you might like to see her.”

Val couldn’t help the shudder that ran through her when he called her his girl. That, coupled with the image of him in the pilot's seat, controlling something so incredibly powerful, made her press her knees together without even realizing she had done so. 

“Wow… she’s stunning. I mean it, Ev!”

“She’s good to us,” He reached towards her and took the whiskey glass from her hand. “Gotten us there and back safe so far.”

“Well, she sounds pretty amazing,” Val turned in her seat to face him, tucking her legs up underneath her. 

“Wanna go up?” He grinned. 

“Now!?”

“No time like the present. Let me see if Ken left the stairs out.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth, had he hopped out of the jeep, the tail end of his cigarette between two fingers, whiskey glass barely secure in the other three. She watched as he strutted over to the plane, checking for the stairs, before ducking back under the wing and shouting over to her. 

“I’ll have to give you a boost, honey.”

“I’m sorry?”

“No stairs, so we're going to have to go up through the hatch.”

“Uh, Ev?” She was kneeling on the front seat of the jeep, one hand on the windshield to steady herself, the other clutching her half finished cocktail. 

“Yea?”

“Where exactly is the hatch?” 

He laughed outright, but made his way back over to her. Extending a hand once close enough, he helped her step out of the jeep, and walked her over to the plane. They ducked under the wing, and finally came to a stop off to the side, a small door on the belly of the plane with the words Jerry, if you can read this, start prayin painted on the side. 

He reached up and pulled the small hatch open, and Val just stood there staring at him. 

“Wait so, if you give me a boost how the hell are you getting in?”

“Don’t worry about me,” He drained his glass, gesturing for her to do the same. “I’ll get up same as I always do.”

Val nodded, and handed over her now empty martini glass, waiting as Everett placed it on the ground next to his own empty glass. They’d have to remember to grab them on the way out, lest Kenny and the ground crew find them in the morning. 

“Okay,” Ev dusted his hands off on his slacks, coming to stand behind her. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be…”

“On three then, I’m going to just, pick you up.”

Turning over her shoulder to catch his gaze, she gave a wink before speaking. 

“Don’t let me fall.”

“I won’t,” His hands came to rest gently on his waist. “Precious cargo.”

Adjusting his grip, he counted just in her ear, his warm breath fanning against her skin. When he got to three, she felt herself being lifted off the ground, and into the small hatch of the plane above her. Using her arms to help lessen her weight against him, she hauled herself up as best as she could given her skirt, until she was seated on the floor of the plane. The darkness that surrounded her was eerie, and she was about to say as much before Ev’s hand appeared in the hatch with a small flashlight. 

“Here, hold this a minute while I get in.”

Val positioned the light on the opening for him, and watched in absolute awe as he gripped the top of the hatch and pulled himself up, swinging his legs into the plane in one fell swoop. The sheer strength that it must take for him to do that had fireflies dancing in her stomach at what he must be hiding under that neatly pressed uniform. 

Once on his feet, he took the flashlight in one hand, and one of hers in the other, before guiding her along to what she could only assume was the cockpit. 

“Down here’s the nose. Dougie and Bubbles camp out here when we’re up.” He pointed to a small desk, and what she recognized as a Norden Bombsight. She had seen it in reports in Chick’s office but never up close. 

“I’ve seen those in the reports in Chicky’s office, but never up close.” Val whispered, running her fingers gently over the equipment. 

“Wait… you call him Chicky?!”

“It’s a joke, really.” She turned to him. “I dared Tattie to do it in exchange for a pack of smokes and she’s never one to turn down a dare.”

“That’s actually the funniest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Do not call him that to his face. Only the girls get to do it.”

“Oh I won’t. But I might have to dare Dougie one of these days.”

She swatted his shoulder, a gentle slap, but he caught her hand before she could pull it back. He turned and looked up, before gesturing with one arm to the small step up towards the cockpit. 

“Careful, it’s one step but it’s big.”

Nodding, Val held onto his one hand, before using the other to balance as she stepped up and into the cockpit of the fort. This, she could already tell, was Everett’s favorite part of the plane. 

“Left or right?” She called down to him. 

“The right,” He appeared behind her, and as she shuffled into the seat on the right, he settled himself in the left seat. “Prettiest co-pilot I’ve ever had.”

“Oh is that what I am? Your co-pilot?”

“Well, you’re in the co-pilot's seat,” He grinned, reaching over and taking her hand. “Unless you’d rather be the pilot. Lots of responsibility when you’re the pilot.”

Val let her eyes sweep over all of the buttons and controls, shifts and knobs, dials and numbers. She couldn’t make sense of a single one of them, except for the yoke in front of where Everett sat. That much she knew was for steering the plane. 

“How do you remember all of this?”

“A lot of practice. And a good co-pilot.”

“You and Via have been flying together all this time?”

“Yea. Dougie’s always been in the nose, and Bubbles and his lucky snow globe are always on the maps.”

“Sounds like a pretty reliable crew.”

“I’ve got room for one more, if you’re interested?”

“Oh really?”

“Yea…”

“What’s the job description? I’m already awfully busy pouring coffee for all the Flyboy’s and making sure everyone gets a donut. Meatball fur free, of course.”

Everett laughed softly and gave her arm a gentle tug, pulling her over into his lap in the pilot's seat. Her legs were stretched out to the side, feet just barely touching where she had been sitting. His arms came to rest around her waist, while one of hers wrapped around his neck. The other had a handful of the lapel of his jacket. 

“Hey there.” She grinned.

“You are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” He leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on her nose. “Have I told you that yet tonight?”

“Maybe, but I’m not opposed to hearing it again if you really think so.”

“Gorgeous.” A kiss to her nose. “Beautiful.” A kiss to her left cheek. “Lovely.” A kiss to her right cheek. 

“Ev…” His name left her on a breath, evaporating into the air around them. 

His hands slid up from her waist, the touch soft, gentle, the opposite of how she’d imagined he might pilot the plane they were sitting in, until they were cradling her face. 

“Mine?” He pressed their noses together, left hand sliding down to cup her neck.  

“Yours.” 

That was all he needed to connect their lips, the sparks that had been dancing around them for weeks finally igniting. She tasted like gin and lemon juice; he of cigarettes and whiskey and neither could get enough of the other. The moonlight spilling through the windows of the cockpit offered just enough visibility that they could see each other, but the cover of darkness allowed for them to touch. To feel. As Val pulled away with a gasp for air, Everett chased her lips, pulling her back against him until he could feel every inch of her pressed against his body, her arms wound around his neck as she opened her mouth to him, allowing him that first step, that touch of his tongue against hers, as he continued to kiss the air from her lungs. 

Her hands desperately fumbled with the buttons on his jacket until they had come open and she could shove it from his shoulders. Releasing his hold on her, he quickly leaned forward so he could pull his jacket the rest of the way off, carelessly tossing it onto the now vacant co-pilot’s seat. His nimble fingers returned the favor, slipping the button on Val’s blue jacket open before divesting her of it and allowing it to accompany his own. 

She surged forward, pressing her chest against his, lips moving feverishly against his own, her hands dragging down his arms. She could feel the muscles under the fabric of his shirt, forearms and biceps flexing as his own hands moved over her and found purchase on various parts of her body. 

“Fuck… Could kiss you all night.”

Dragging his mouth from hers with what felt like Herculean effort, he kissed his way across her cheek, down the sharp slope of her jaw to the juncture behind her ear. His mustache trailing behind each nip and gentle suck of her skin, her perfume lingering in their wake as he stirred parts of her that no one ever had before. A soft moan escaped her throat, her head tipped back exposing more of her neck for him to feast on. 

“Ev… Everett…”

“Hmm, what baby, what is it?” His voice was muffled, lips moving back towards her own while his hands slid gently up her ribcage, fingers brushing the underside of her covered breasts. He pulled away to find her eyes, her gaze hazy as she focused on him in the dark, breaths coming in sharp inhales and heavy exhales. 

He let his thumbs move back and forth from where they were, his fingers flexing as he tried to control every urge inside him that said it would be alright if he made love to her right here. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t do that, not to her, who deserved something more than a romp in the dark of his plane for their first time together. He’d give her whatever she asked for, while doing his best to remain a gentleman. At least, that was what he told himself. Until she wrapped her fingers around his wrist and softly guided his hand up, north of her ribs until his right hand was cupping her breast. Until she urged him on, silently begging him to continue touching her as best as they could in the cramped space. 

“Don’t stop…” She whispered, threading her fingers into his hair and pulling him back to her mouth. 

“Never.” He murmured against her, the hand that held her so reverently giving a gentle squeeze. “Not until you tell me to.” 

Val’s hands slid from Everett’s hair; her nails raking against his scalp until they came down around his neck. Without thinking she was tugging at his tie and opening the buttons at the collar. The rational part of her brain was no longer thinking. Everything around her was Everett. His hands on her body, fingers tugging her shirt free from the waistband of her skirt so that he could touch her skin against skin. Just as his hands slid up her back, fingers brushing the band of her brassier, her lips found his neck, teeth scraping against his pulse. 

“Val…” His head hit the back of the seat as she moved lower, her lips dragging across his exposed collar bones, leaving open mouth kisses up the column of his neck. “Christ, honey…” 

Just as he popped open the first button on her blouse, a voice rang out from the open hatch, causing Val to wince and Everett to curse under his breath. 

“Hello? Anyone up here?”

“Oh shit, is that Lemmons?” Her eyebrows flew straight to her hairline at the thought, and when Everett nodded in confirmation, she couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. His hand came down over her mouth to muffle the sound, as he called back down to the ground crew chief. 

“Uhh yea, Ken, it’s just me!” 

“Captain Blakely? That your jeep out there?”

“Yea. I’ll be down in a minute.”

Val’s head dropped to Everett’s shoulder, her breathing uneven as she tried to suppress the giggles that hadn’t quite subsided yet. Getting caught up in the cockpit of a fort hadn’t been on her agenda for the evening, but neither had Everett’s surprise adventure. She knew it was only a matter of time before they kissed, and hell, she had been counting on it for some time now. What she hadn’t counted on was that once they started they wouldn’t be able to stop.  

“Hey, you alright?” Ev’s hand was still pressed against her back, the warmth of his skin burning against her own. 

“Yea, just wasn’t expecting to be interrupted,” She looked up at him, his hair a mess from where her hands had gotten to it. “Wasn’t expecting to almost… either.”

“I should have slowed us down,” He let his head fall back against the seat. “You deserve more than, well, the cockpit of a plane.”

“Well, I did tell you not to stop.” She grinned. 

“And who am I not to oblige my girl when she wants something.”

“Another time,” She leaned forward to press her lips to his softly. “Until then, feel free to sneak me up here and kiss me as often as you’d like.”

“I’ll have to remember that. And not to bring a jeep next time so we don’t get busted.”

“Speaking of… we’ve got poor Kenny cooling his heels down there waiting for us.”

“Better button up.” He gestured to her blouse with a nod of his head and a wink. 

“Same goes for you, Captain, because I made a real mess of you.” She grinned. 

“Yes ma’am.” He chuckled, pulling his hands away from her to do up the buttons on his shirt. 

Val moved from his lap, doing her best to tuck her shirt back in, and put her jacket back on. She was sure her lipstick was smudged all over her face, and her hair had to look like a bird's nest by this point, but there was nothing she could do about that. She tried to tuck back whatever loose strands had fallen free, rolling her eyes as Everett smirked at her. He had decided against redoing his tie, instead stuffing it into his pocket. As he stood, eyes focused on her and not the area around him, his head came in contact with the ceiling above him, a dull echo resounding through the cockpit. 

“Fuck!” 

“Shit! Are you alright!” 

He turned to her, and couldn’t help the smile on his own face as he watched her try and not laugh at him. Her hand was covering her mouth, but her eyes were sparkling with mischief. 

“I’m fine sweetheart,” He held out his hand to guide her down. “Now let’s go before Lemmons sends a search party.” 

“Don’t let me fall…” she gripped his fingers tightly as he stepped down first, before he turned to guide her out of the cockpit, and back down towards the hatch. 

“Let me go first, and I’ll help you once I’m down.”

“Okay…”

He made quick work of jumping from the plane, and once both feet were on solid ground, he turned back towards the hatch for her. 

“Jump, honey. I’ve gotcha.”

“Easy for you to say.” She mumbled, before sitting herself on the floor of the plane, legs dangling below her in the night. With a deep breath, she pushed herself out of the plane, and true to his word, Everett had caught her around the waist. 

“Told ya.” He winked, setting her back on the ground. 

Brushing herself off, Val turned to find Ken Lemmon’s looking at her, eyes wide, lips quirked into a smirk. 

“Evening, Miss Val.” He offered her a wave. 

“Hi Ken. Did we wake you?”

“No. Got up to use the can, and uh, saw the jeep. Thought maybe Major Egan was up on the wing again.”

“Sorry… we didn’t mean to make trouble.”

“Hey, it’s the Captains fort, no trouble for me at all.”

“We’ll get out of your hair, let you get back to bed.” She grinned, hand searching for Everett’s as he stood next to her. 

“Goodnight you two,” Ken gave a wave as he turned and made his way back to the ground crew's hut. “Don't forget your glasses!”

Everett winced and doubled back to where he had left their empty glasses from earlier, while Val turned and made her way to the jeep. Once he joined her, he passed them over to her while he dug the key from his pocket and started the engine. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on her knee, he drove them off back towards the huts. They passed a few stragglers leaving the Officers Club; Benny Demarco and Crank were sitting outside with Meatball, the dog taking off in a run after the jeep as it passed causing Benny to groan and both Val and Ev to laugh. He eventually got tired and began trotting his way back to where Benny was waiting. 

When Everett pulled the jeep up in front of the Red Cross hut, he noticed that the lights were still on inside, which meant Tattie and Helen were either still lingering at the club or waiting up for Val. 

“Looks like they might be waiting for you.”

“Gossip queens…” she shook her head with a fond smile. 

Letting the two glasses rest on the seat between them, she turned to face him, hand reaching for his own. Just the feeling of his skin on hers had her wanting to make him turn the jeep around and go back to the hardstand and finish what they started. 

“Can I kiss you goodnight?”

“You’re asking permission to kiss me? Everett, you’re practically wearing my lipstick, sweetheart.” She smiled, but leaned closer to him anyway, indulging him the moment. 

“Please?” He whispered. “Valencia, come on, I’m trying to be a gentleman. Walk you to your door, kiss you goodnight…”

“Okay, okay!” She conceded. “Yes, Everett, you can kiss me goodnight.”

He met her in the middle, hand sliding up to cradle her face as their lips found each other. Her fingers slid through his already disheveled hair, nails scratching against his scalp. She could feel him shudder under her touch, and had to keep reminding herself that it would be worth it to wait just a little longer for him in that way. 

Pulling back only when the need for air grew too strong, Everett let his thumb softly move against the apple of her cheek, his forehead pressed to hers. 

“Go on, before Tattie comes out here looking for you.”

“Don’t wanna…”

“Me either, but there’s tomorrow, and I’ll be waiting for you. Promise.”

“Tomorrow…” She sighed, nuzzling into his warm palm. 

“I’ll pick you up in the morning and we can walk to the mess together. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect.”

With another soft kiss to her lips, Everett released his hold on her, allowing her to step out of the jeep and take the few steps to the door of the hut she resided in. He knew he wouldn’t get any sleep that night, thoughts of bright green eyes and a mischievous smile dancing in his mind's eye until the sun came up and he could see her again. He waited until she was safely inside the hut, the sound of Helen’s voice floating through the air as Val rejoined the girls finally. With a chuckle and shake of his head, he drove the jeep back to the Officers Hut where he found John Egan outside, smoking a cigarette with Douglass. 

“So, how’d it go?” Dougie stood up, flicking the butt of his cigarette in the makeshift ashtray. 

“Thanks for letting me borrow the jeep, Bucky.”

“Anytime you need me to break into song so you can make an escape with your gal, I’ve got it handled.”

“I think everyone else would be very opposed, but I appreciate the offer.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“You are, but that’s alright. You mean well.” 

“Night Blakely…”

“Night, Major…”

Everett had one foot in the door before Douglass was pulling him into the light, his blue eyes looking at him with scrutiny. 

“What?”

“Man, she really did a number on you! Was she wearing any lipstick when you brought her back?”

“Doug…”

“Victory Red is definitely your shade, Ev!” He cackled, heading for his bunk while Everett moved to the mirror that hung by the wall, checking his reflection with a smile. She had indeed left her mark, and if he had any say in the matter, he wanted her to do that for as long as Victory Red was in production. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart…” 

Part Three

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

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[blakelysco-pilot]

Hallelujah, I Love Her So

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

Something big is brewing, and The Brass is keeping their cards close to their chest. The Red Cross girls are forced to navigate through the murky waters of changes on base, revelations, new faces and chance meetings. Val is forced to face feelings from the past that rear their ugly head in the face of something beautiful, but she is determined not to let the past get in the way of her future.

Part Five Follow along with the Eight To the Bar Playlist

Sleep. More often than not, it was restless, and usually cut short due to obligations. This time, it was simply because no one had wanted to go to bed. After a week of restlessness and arguing, finally, they had all found peace. Olive and Doug had made up, and Douglass had finally understood what everyone had been trying to tell him all along- Olive only cared for him. While Val had been nothing short of thrilled that her best friends had finally gotten past their troubles and become a couple, what had made her exponentially happy was knowing that her and Everett had not pushed themselves so far in defending their friends that they ruined their own relationship. Benny had made up with Dougie, the two reaching an understanding that Benny was now to Olive what Curt was to Val- a brother. Curt had spent the entire walk back to the huts from the hardstand bellowing how he had the best night ever, and it had been funny, until BED. ALL OF YOU had come blasting over the tannoy and Red Bowman had sent them all to their respective racks. 

Now, as Val woke feeling as refreshed as one can be for getting to bed as the sun came up, she was determined to make the most of a day that didn’t include fighting or disagreements. Olive, it seemed, was already up and out of the hut along with Tattie. Helen was still somewhere in dreamland, even as the clock slowly approached nine. Sitting up in her bed, Val called over to Helen softly, hoping it would be enough to rouse the woman from her sleep. 

“Helen, doll, it's almost nine.”

“Hmm, that’s nice…”

“Helen, we have to start getting up and out to the truck.”

“Bring the truck here….” She mumbled, face still pressed into her pillow. 

“Christ sake,” Val stood from her bed, bare feet padding over to Helen’s bed. “Helen, come on chickie, time to get up.”

“But we just went to bed…” She groaned, prying one eye open and looking up at Val. 

“I know, but we can turn in early tonight, yea?”

“Yea, okay,” She sighed, sitting up and meeting Val’s equally tired gaze full on. “Those two early birds are already at the truck?”

“Yes, now let’s put a little pep in our step before Tattie comes round, okay?”

Nodding, Helen let Val pull her from the warmth of her blankets before the pair of them began getting ready for the day. 

Val and Helen had gotten themselves cleaned up and into their jumpsuits in record time. Helen resolved to finish pinning her hair under her scarf on the walk over to the truck while Val blindly applied her lipstick mid stride. By the time they reached Olive and Tattie, the truck was set up and both girls were enjoying a cup of coffee while tossing the ball with Meatball. Demarco must have been up and at it early if he’d relinquished his best pal to the girls before the day really got going. 

“Good morning boy, hi!” Val looked over at the husky who was panting, ball in mouth, and staring up at her with big blue eyes. “Did you have a nice snooze?”

“He snoozed more than any of us, that’s for sure.” Helen rolled her eyes with a smile. 

“When I checked last night, you were snoozing on top of Dickie.” Olive pointed at her with a cheeky smile. 

“He was closest,” Helen grumbled. “And Tattie took the dog.”

“Surprised Benny didn’t put up more of a fight for him honestly.” 

At the mention of his owner, Meatball promptly dropped the ball to the ground and let out a loud howl. Maybe Cleven was right and he was part wolf. 

“Okay, Meatball, shhh.” Olive crouched down to ruffle the fur between his ears, the dog mistaking her affection for playtime and jumping up onto her. 

“Oh, Meatball!” Val laughed, unable to pull him off of Olive as he continued to pounce and lick at her face. 

“Wow, and here I thought I was the only fella who got to smother you in kisses!” Dougie’s voice rang out as he walked up the path to the Clubmobile, smirk on his lips and pep in his step. 

“Fella, yes,” Olive looked up at him from her place on the ground. “He’s not a fella, he’s a Meatball.”

“Well, then he’s the only Meatball who gets to smother you in kisses.” Doug approached the dog, gently tugging at his collar to get him off of Olive, promptly handing him off to Ev, who had joined him in his quest for coffee. 

“Did anyone get any sleep last night?” Dougie questioned the group, looking at the exhausted faces of his friends as he helped Olive off the ground. 

“Barely,” Val sighed, moving to snuggle into Everett’s side. “I can’t remember the last time I stayed out all night like that.”

“Had to be sometime before the war…” Ev sighed, placing a kiss to the top of her head. 

“Somehow it always involves Curt.” Val groaned, her back turned to the path, she didn’t see the man in question approaching. 

“Speak of the devil.” 

Tattie gestured behind Val, causing Ev to turn them both to see Curt coming towards them, bright eyed and bushy tailed. 

“Morning yous guys!” He beamed, voice booming as he took up the spot on Val’s other side. 

“Shh, too loud.” Helen scolded him. 

“Who’s too loud? Meatball? Yea I heard em all the way across the field!”

“Curt…” Val warned, sending him a glare. 

“The gal’s grouchy this morning, Blakely.” He mumbled, cigarette now wedged between his lips as he pulled out his lighted. 

“Biddick,” Ev looked over at him. “Shut up.”

“Can I at least have a coffee?” He looked at the four girls, trying to figure out which one was most likely to concede. 

“Fine, come on, you perky son of a bitch.” Tattie gestured to the truck, leaving Curt out by the hatch as she rounded the back to go inside. 

“Thanks, Tat,” He grinned. “Oh, Val, Harding’s looking for ya, he’s in the glass house.”

“You should have led with that, Curt…”

“Yea, sorry about that, I got distracted.”

“Christ sake, okay,” She pried herself out from Everett’s arm and headed for the truck, the pilot still clutching Meatball’s harness in the other hand. “Might as well bring some coffee up for the boys.”

“I’ll walk you,” Ev called over to her. “I needed to talk to Kidd anyway.”

“Thank you honey,” She poked her head out of the truck, now inside putting together a tray of coffee and some donuts for the boys in Operations. “You can help me carry this.”

“Here Curt, you’re on Meatball duty till Benny gets back.” Everett handed off the leash to Curt, moving to the window of the truck to take what Val was passing down to him. 

With his hands full, he stood waiting for Valencia to exit the truck. Her own hands full, the pair began their walk towards Operations. They bid their friends goodbye over their shoulders, and began a leisurely walk over towards the control tower. Val was balancing a tray of coffee while Everett dutifully carried a tray with donuts. While some men might have balked at doing something so domestic, he welcomed the moment with Val by his side. 

“What’s going on with Jack,” She glanced over at him before looking back towards the path they were walking. “Anything I should be worried about?” 

“Honestly, can’t say for certain,” He dropped a sigh before continuing. “Could be anything from a switch in my crew to wanting to go up and practice.”

“Why could he possibly want to switch out of your crew?”

“There’s replacements coming in...”

“When?”

“Not sure, which might be what Harding wants to see you about.”

“The hell am I supposed to do with replacements?”

“Welcome them with open arms the way you welcomed me, sweetheart.” He grinned, offering her a wink as they came to a stop outside the Control Tower. 

“They’re hardly getting a wink and a smile,” She sighed, shaking her head as he pulled open the door for her. “And my dance card is full, Captain Blakely.”

“Ooh, haven’t heard that one in a while.” He let out a low laugh, careful not to make too much noise now that they were inside. 

The center of the Control Tower, ground level, wasn’t brightly lit. It was bathed in an almost orange glow, and was made up of small offices inside around the perimeter. The center of the room, The Pit, as Red sometimes referred to it, held one big table in the middle adorned with maps, and had floor to ceiling chalkboards on either side of it. Each chalkboard ran the list of every plane within the 100th. All of the forts, their tail numbers and corresponding names and the lead pilot. You could see where someone’s fort had been erased- the names of those who went down or were MIA, simply erased from Thorpe Abbotts. Val realized if she allowed herself to look at it for too long, the worry of Everett’s name, or Curt’s being erased from the board would begin to sink in. Instead, she chose to focus on Chick Harding, who was standing next to Jack Kidd, hands on his narrow hips and cigar wedged between his lips. 

“G’morning Chicky,” She approached with a smile, the coffee still piping hot on the tray. “Jack.”

“Valencia…”

“Brought you boys some coffee and Ev’s got the donuts.”

“Blakely, did you join the Red Cross and forget to tell us?” Harding barked out a laugh, the smoke from his stogie billowing up around him. 

“Helping Val, Colonel,” Everett placed the other tray down next to where Val had placed the coffees. “She’s only got two hands and I was already headed to see the Major.”

“Ah I’m just joking with you,” Harding slapped a hand down over Blakely’s shoulder before picking up one of the coffees. “I’m sure she appreciates the extra hand, don’t ya Valencia.”

“Oh, I always do.” She smiled, looking  over her shoulder at Ev and giving him a wink before turning back to Harding. 

“Alright, well, grab yourself a coffee and come with me.” Harding turned and began walking towards the big table in the center of the room, Val following closely behind him. 

With a quick glance over her shoulder, she saw Ev disappear into one of the offices with Jack, the pair of them talking quietly before Kidd shut the door behind him. Attention again on following Colonel Harding, he stopped suddenly, turning to face her, eyebrows raised and cigar pinched between two fingers. 

“Gotta wait for Red,” He nodded. “Did you get yourself a coffee?”

“Oh, no…”

“Go on then I know you were all up with the sun this morning.” He looked at her with a brow raised, smirk painting his lips. 

“More or less,” She mumbled, turning and hurrying back to where she left the coffee. “Did you eat anything this morning, Chicky?”

“I’ll take a donut as long as Demarco’s dog ain’t get near them.”

“They’re Meatball free, grouchy.” She rolled her eyes as she handed it over to him, hearing the beginning of a scoff coming from him, before someone clearing their throat interrupted him. 

Red Bowman appeared in front of them, arms folded across his chest, eyebrow raised in amusement at the banter between the pair of them. 

“She’s got your number, Chick,” Red’s thick New England accent was light, a bit more jovial than Chick was in the mornings. “Morning Miss Val, thank you for the coffee.”

“Morning Red, and you’re quite welcome.”

“Are you two done torturing me?” Harding scoffed, gesturing with his hand that held the donut to the folders in front of him at the table. 

“Go on then,” Bowman nodded, plucking a coffee from the tray. “I’m sure she’s wondering why you needed her if it’s not to type up your reports.”

“No reports?” Val looked between the two men, brows creased. 

“We’ve got replacement crews coming in,” Harding started, gesturing to the folders and piles of paperwork scattered around the table. “Fellas are going to need a warm welcome, and I thought you and Helen might be willing to set up the Interrogation hut.”

“You want coffee and whiskey then?”

“That and if you can spare some of the sweets from the Clubmobile,” Red added. 

“A hershey bar or two, sure,” She nodded. “But my dance card is full, gentlemen.”

“Wasn’t asking you to give Blakely the boot for a replacement,” Harding laughed. “I’m not blind, Valencia, I know what’s going on there.”

“Out till the sun came up,” Red shook his head in a laugh. “And still up and doing her job.”

“Well, someone has to caffeinate you boys. And feed you, too, it seems.”

“So you’ll be there to welcome the new boys?”

“I’ll talk to Helen when I get back to the truck,” Val nodded in agreement. “When do they get here?”

“Noon.”

“Noon, today!”

“Yes, Valencia, noon today.” Chick drawled, exhaling from his cigar.

“Christ, Chicky, a bit last minute don’t you think?” 

“We found out last night.” Red interjected, watching as the furrow on her face turned deeper with each passing second. 

“Well, then I need to get back,” Val nodded, bidding a farewell to both the men, swiping a donut off the tray she had left for them. “And pray that Helen is still standing when I get there.”

She didn’t see Red and Harding chuckling at her as her back was turned, both men fully aware that she’d get the job done despite the small window to do it. She also missed the door to Jack’s office opening as Everett exited, his own brow starting to look like his girlfriends. 

“We’ll get it done, Blakely,” Jack murmured from behind him. “I know we will.”

“Yeah… we know when these crews are coming in?”

“Today, 1200 hours,” Jack sighed. “Harding has Val setting up interrogation for them.”

“New fellas are gonna love that,” Everett chuckled, the irony of the new crew’s being greeted by a pretty Red Cross girl not lost on him. “She’s gonna give those boys hell.”

“She already gives all of us hell.” Jack cracked a smile, his usually tough exterior slipping as he extended his hand for Blakely. 

“Almost all of us.” Shaking Jack’s hand, the two pilots shared a knowing look before Ev turned to leave the Control Tower. “I’m in the clear.”

————————————

“Tell me again,” Helen groaned, twisting the top off the whiskey bottle. “Why Harding doesn’t want all of us?” 

“I wish I knew,” Val sighed, shuffling past Helen with a tray of donuts wedged against her hip. “He just asked for me and you to be here.”

“Knowing Chicky, he doesn’t want Meatball in here jumping all over everyone.”

“The Hundredth’s mascot, banned from the welcoming committee. What a sin.”

At the mention of the husky, both girls could hear him barking and howling from across the field by the Clubmobile. Sticking her head out the door, Val could see Demarco making his way over to them, Meatball pulling and tugging at his leash excitedly at his owner returning. 

“Benny’s back,” She turned to Helen who was lining up the glasses, pouring two fingers worth of whiskey into each of them. “And heading our way.”

“So much for keeping Meatball out of here.” Helen chuckled. 

“Hey! You girls need a hand?” Benny stuck his head inside the door, Meatball immediately trying to get inside. 

“Hi,” Helen turned, chucking the empty whiskey bottle into the trash before moving to the coffee cups. “We’re good, but, shouldn’t you be getting the racks ready with the rest of the fellas for the new guys?”

“To be honest, Helen, I’m not exactly bursting at the seams to meet the new kids.” 

His face said what he wasn’t, or couldn’t, about the men coming in. They would be filling the empty racks of those who hadn’t made it back; friends that were lost, or dead, and the original boys were reluctant to get too close. Nobody wanted to lose any more friends than they already had. It had been two months since the original crews flew in from Greenland, thirty-five crews had landed that day and Val had been in this exact same spot welcoming the boys who would become her friends to Thorpe Abbotts with a whiskey and a smile. She’d do the same today, but would these boys be here long enough to become friends? God, she hoped so, that for their sake they wouldn’t go up into the clouds with high hopes and never see the ground below again. 

“You girls sure you don’t need help?” He was procrastinating going back to his rack.

“Leave Meatball with Olive and Tattie,” Val gestured back to the Clubmobile. “The new boys should at least be able to have a snack without his hair all over it.”

“Alright,” He nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

“There’s an urn with coffee on the truck. It’s full, and needs two people to bring it over here.” 

“I can grab it.” Benny nodded, moving to bring Meatball back to the truck. 

“Benny you need two people, trust me,” Val followed him outside. “It’s also piping hot.”

John Brady was at the window as the pair of them approached, chatting animatedly with Olive about Shakespeare and his sweetheart back home, Juliet. The two girls had become quick penpals, and Brady had taken to including Olive’s letters with his so that nothing got lost in the mail. Whenever Brady had a spare moment, him and Olive would indulge each other in conversation. It was easy to see that John Brady’s favorite thing to talk about was Juliet. Val found it quite sweet, that the usually stoic, pipe smoking saxophone player softened at the mere mention of her name. 

“Hey Brady,” Val nudged his shoulder with hers as she passed. “How’s Juliet?”

“Jules is good, thanks for asking Val,” He grinned as Olive handed him a pack of gum. “Her birthday’s coming up soon.”

“Well, make sure you send her a wish from me.” 

“I will. I tell her all about you girls, and if I don’t, I know Olive does.”

“Good,” Val nodded, taking Benny by the elbow once he returned from tying Meatball back up by the girls. “One day I’d like to meet the girl who makes John Brady all starry eyed.”

With a wink, Val and Benny made their way into the back of the Clubmobile to collect the urn and take it back to the hut. There was a second urn already in use by Olive and Tattie, the girls taking coffee from that one for the boys that passed by. 

“Handles on the side, Ben,” Val directed him to one side while she settled on the other. “On three.”

“Uno, dùe, trè?”

“Yes,” She laughed, waiting for him to count off in Italian. “Ready?”

“Let’s do it…”

On his count, the pair of them lifted the urn and began moving to exit the truck, Benny taking the stairs backwards while Val guided him down one at a time. Once on the grass, they walked side by side, the urn between them, back towards the hut. They moved quickly, silently, and once inside, Helen was making space for them to put it down on one of the tables. She’d set the cups out on one side of the table, enough sugar to get by before the next delivery of rations came in, and milk that the local farmers graciously brought to base every few days. All that was missing was the men filling the room, nervous and excited energy of their flight in and what was to come. The prospect of the fight ahead glimmering in their eyes. 

“You girls all set?”

“All set, Benny,” Val smiled. “Thanks for the help.”

“Any time cugine,” He winked. 

“What did you just call her!?” Helen balked.

“Cugine,” Benny laughed. “It means cousin but not really a cousin.”

“Right, like we think of each other as family but there’s no bloodline.” Val explained. 

“Italians have a word for everything!” 

“Here’s another one,” Val turned back to Benny just as she caught Chicky and Red coming towards the hut. “Vai.”

Go.

“And I’m gone.” Benny grinned, scooting out the door and jogging across to the Clubmobile to pick up Meatball. 

The Interrogation hut was busy in almost no time at all. Almost as soon as Harding and Red had joined the two girls, the sound of B-17 engines overtook the entire air base. Jack Kidd was out on the hardstands with the two Majors, getting the new fellas into trucks, speeding off towards Interrogation where Red and Chick would do their part in making sure each fort arrived safely and without issue. Val and Helen were there to greet them with a smile and a warm cup of coffee, or something stronger for those who preferred it. 

They all looked so fresh faced as they entered the hut, and Val could see the excitement in some of them. Young boys ready to fight, who if she had to guess, didn’t even know just how bad it was up there. In retrospect, neither did any of the original boys when they first got here, and she remembered the vacant look on Gale Cleven’s face the afternoon they had returned from Bremen. The shock and fear that had full body encompassed the man as he tried to explain what had happened up there. The whiskey he declined, that Egan had promptly poured into his coffee, the noise in the back of the hut he had walked into, choosing to let Curt do all the talking for him. How many of these new faces would look the same in the coming days, weeks, months. How many of them would she even see return? 

She had just turned to pour more coffee when a crew entered the room, the pilot looking every bit the part. Dark curls tamed with pomade, bright blue eyes and a mustache- no lucky strike. He was a handsome fella, and offered her a kind smile in return of her own as she offered up a choice of refreshments. 

“Coffee or whiskey, Lieutenant?” She smiled, holding one of each in either hand. 

“Coffee, please, ma’am.” He nodded politely, and Val clocked an accent that she had only heard from one other person on base. This man was from home. Her home. 

“Here you go.” She handed him the cup, ready to move on to the next man in his crew, a shorter man, young but sporting a bald spot under his crush cap. She assumed he was the Co-Pilot, and he was eyeing up the whiskey. 

“Thank you, Miss…”

“Val,” She nodded. “Not ma’am or Miss. Val is just fine Lieutenant…”

“Rosenthal. Robert Rosenthal.”

“Welcome to Thorpe Abbotts, Robert.”

The Lieutenant was moving further into the room as Val quickly passed a glass with whiskey to his Co-Pilot, the man grinning as soon as his fingers wrapped around the glass. 

“Ah jeez, thanks Miss!”

“You’re welcome, now go on, the Colonel is waiting.” She gestured to where Harding was standing in the doorway, hands on his hips, a cloud of smoke swirling around him. 

“Oh, shoot!” The Co-Pilot cursed, running off behind the rest of his crew to join them, whiskey in hand. 

Shaking her head, Val carried on with offering up refreshments, watching out of the corner of her eye as Helen chatted with a young pilot who had come in behind Rosenthal and his crew. For someone who had been so sleepy this morning, willing to serve coffee and donuts from the warmth of her bed, Helen looked positively glowing as she poured what looked like a second whiskey for the man. Normally, she’d give Helen a look, but the girl had sat by while she and Olive did the same every time Everett and Dougie walked past the Clubmobile or into the hut. It was important to Val that all of them found a sliver of happiness, and maybe, this new pilot would be to Helen what Ev was to her. 

When he leaves her with a dashing smile, Val turns quickly, busying herself with stacking empty glasses and cleaning up crumbs, so as to not get caught spying. Just as the nameless pilot reaches the door, he turns and calls out to Helen, a slight twang to his voice and a sparkle in his eye. 

“See you later, Helen of Troy.” He winks, and joins the rest of the crews in the other room, leaving the two women standing there speechless. 

“Helen of Troy?” Val turns to Helen, who’s trying furiously to hide the blush creeping up her cheeks. Unsuccessfully if she had anything to say about it. 

“He’s charming…”

“Yes, he certainly is!”

“You are the leading authority on charming pilots, DiRosano.” She teased.

“Shush, you know what I mean,” Val waves her off, picking up the tray of glasses she stacked, and heads for the door. “What’s his name?”

“Hmm?” Helen seems dazed, lost in a fantasy, and Val can’t help but roll her eyes. 

“Oh here we go,” She grins. “His name, Helen. What was the charming pilot's name?”

“Oh! Nash,” The blush was not ceasing its takeover of her fair skin. “Lieutenant Herbert Nash.”

“Well, he certainly seems to have his sights set on you!”

Just as Helen was about to respond, the door opened and Red Bowman stepped out of the room, eyes scanning the front of the hut for something before landing on the coffee urn, and then over to the two girls cleaning up. 

“Any more in there, girls?” He gestured to the urn, cigarette between two fingers. 

“For you, Red? You don’t even have to ask.” Val winked, setting the tray down by the door to go pour him a coffee. 

“Thank you, Valencia,” He groaned, pinching between his brows with two fingers. “These new kids are… Well, they’re kids.”

“They’re just anxious,” Handing over the cup, black with sugar, she could see something behind his eyes. Something fearful. “Same as the other boys were anxious when they got here.”

“These boys somehow seem younger than your boys.” Red sighed, and she could very clearly see the worry on his face. 

“Our boys will lead them through,” Val nodded, knowing she felt the same worry even though Ev and Curt had been on their fair share of missions, that worry never subsided. “I know they will.”

She had spent the rest of the afternoon repeating her own words over and over. Our boys will lead them through tumbling over and over like a stone as she willed it to be true. She had seen too many men lose the fight already, coffee and a kind send off one minute, and the next she was scanning the faces as they shuffled through the door to see who had made it back and silently taking stock of the missing men. Quietly, she would keep their names off to the side, knowing that Curt and Ev were the ones who would see them meet their demise- hard as it was for the girls to not see those boys again it was infinitely harder on the boys who saw it happen first hand. Friends lost, sons, husbands and brothers who would never see home again. That, she had realized, was exactly what she had welcomed to Thorpe Abbotts earlier today. Boys that, if she had to guess, a handful or more would never see the inside of that hut again after their first raid. Boys who would maybe get to spend one night in the Officers Club with a good pretty girl to dance with and a hope that maybe she’d be waiting. Chances are she would be waiting, but what would return, no one could say for certain. 

“You’re quiet,” Tattie looked up from where she was putting away the leftover snacks and newspapers in the Clubmobile. “Everything go alright with the new boys?”

“Oh,  yea, they were fine. Eager.” She punctuates the sentence with a forced laugh. 

“I figured as much. When they went past they were all wide eyed like it was Christmas morning.”

“Red looked a little nervous,” She slid the empty coffee urn back onto the shelf, turning to face Tattie. “He kept going on about how they were just kids.” 

“They are kids,” Tattie shook her head. “This damn war.”

“I get why Benny didn’t want to be around when they showed up…”

“Almost all the boys went up for practice just before the new forts landed.”

“Are we wrong to get attached?” Val questioned, lighting a cigarette. “I don’t mean Ev or Doug, but the other boys.”

“How do you mean?”

“I mean, remembering Croz’s wife’s name, or how Claytor takes his coffee. Checking the score of the Yankees game in a three day old paper from home just so Egan has a better morning. That kind of stuff.”

Val lets her gaze fall to Olive who’s cleaning up outside the truck with Helen, the latter telling her all about their afternoon and the crews that had come through. She can’t help but hope that disappointment doesn’t find its way to her friend, the smile on her face giving Val the reminder of what they’re doing here and why they’re doing it. It’s more than coffee and donuts or snacks for the boys. It’s a smile that reminds them they’re still human, that they’re not just killing machines trained to fight a war; the boy who left home is still in there somewhere. It’s a friendly ear when their sweetheart sends a letter and they can’t wait to see someone about it. Or when their newborn starts crawling and their wife writes to tell them all about it in such detail it’s as if they’re seeing it happen in their mind's eye. It’s someone remembering how they take their coffee or who their favorite baseball team is. It’s having friends and someone to laugh with. If it meant being able to smile and making someone else smile, she didn’t mind getting attached all that much. They were good guys. Flyboys, sure, but they were good. 

“No,” Tattie shook her head, a smile on her face. “I think it’s important we get attached to our boys.”

“Our boys…”

“Well, who else is going to look after them?”

“In the sky, they look after each other. But down here, on the ground, you’re right Tat… those are our boys.”

“And that damn dog.” She rolled her eyes, a stream of smoke passing through her lips. 

“No,” She grinned. “We can’t forget about Meatball.”

———————————————————————————

She had walked back to the hut with Tattie, the two smoking and chatting idly as they took stock of all the new faces walking around base. Thorpe Abbotts seemed crowded now, the new fellas plus those who had been here from the start now taking up space in every available hut, rack and seat in the mess hall. All the hardstands were occupied and in the back of her head she filed away that they’d be brewing more coffee and making more donuts each day. 

She’d hoped to run into Everett on her way back. They had parted ways in the Control tower that morning, and when she had left he was still in Jack’s office. Had she known they were in there shooting the shit, she’d have popped her head in and snarked at Jack a bit before leaving them both, but when Ev mentioned he needed to see Jack for something, she wasn’t about to interrupt that. She could surmise that the boys had their hands full now, but she’d remain hopeful that they’d see each other in the mess hall; or at the very least, he’d come find her before it was lights out on base. And considering no one slept the night before, they’d all be lights out pretty early if she had to venture a guess. 

“Olive said you didn’t even go to bed last night?”

“Oh, no. Delays the hangover.” 

“And how do you feel now, Spaatz?”

“Like the Clubmobile rolled over me, reversed, and rolled over me again.” She groaned. 

“That’s certainly one way to describe a hangover.” Val laughed, not missing the scowl on Tattie’s face as she nudged her. 

“And you?” The other woman questioned, eyebrows raised. “How are you feeling now that everything’s settled with Olive and Douglass?” 

“I’m exhausted,” Val groaned. “But it’s a good exhausted, you know what I mean?”

“There’s a good way to be tired?”

“Sure there is!” Val exclaimed, explanation at the ready. “It’s like, when you come home after a night on the town; you danced all night and your feet hurt, and it’s a chore to even open the jar of cold cream, but you had the most wonderful time and you’d do it all over again…”

“So you’re not saying you’d argue with Blakely again, but…”

“But I’d sit out in the grass with all of you and watch the sun come up every night if I could.” 

“Back at you, Valencia.” 

Just as they reached the door of their hut, they could hear Olive and Helen inside already, the pair giggling quietly. Helen had been in a quiet daze all day after her encounter with the charming replacement pilot in Interrogation earlier. It seemed he had left such an impression on Helen that she wanted to tell any of the girls who would listen; Val would listen a hundred times over to see her friend smile. Pushing the door open, the two girls looked over from Olive’s bed, smiles wide and eyes sparking with mischief. 

“You’ve got mail…” Olive’s tone was a playful, sing-song. 

“What don’t I know?” Her green eyes narrowed in playful scrutiny as she made her way towards her bed, finding a piece of her own floral printed stationery laying folder on the pillow. 

“Nope!” Olive mimed zipping her lips.

“Olive!” Val stomped her foot like a petulant child, shaking her head as she picked up the paper, smiling as she unfolded it to find Everett’s messy handwriting scrawled across it. 

Honey-

Saw you were swarmed with new faces in interrogation and didn’t want to disturb you. I’ll be back a bit later. Our crew is taking a few of the new fellas up on a practice run. I’ll be back in time to eat with you in the Officer's Mess tonight- pick you up at 5:30. I Love you!”

-E

Her eyes flew across the paper three times before finally looking up. Olive’s gaze was there to meet hers, the Brit now standing in front of Val, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes and a smirk on her face. 

“He…oh my god…”

“He what, honey?” Helen, who was still perched on Olive’s bed, looked over in concern.

“That’s the first time… In a note!”

“The first time for what?” Helen, again, posed the question to Val. 

“Val? Honey, are you okay?” This time it was Tattie.

“DID YOU KNOW!?” Val’s gaze turned wide and sharp as she focused on Olive, her voice a few octaves higher than it should have been. 

“Did I know what?” The other woman teased, her voice taking on an almost innocent tone. 

“THIS!” Val waved the sheet of stationary in her face. 

“What’s it say?” Olive jokingly tried to peer around it, hoping to catch a word or two. 

“English, please!”

“Okay, okay…” She finally relented, taking the seat next to Val on the bed. “I promised him I wouldn’t let it slip before you found out or he told you.”

“How did you…”

“Dougie and I were in here earlier. I was reading my mail when Ev came looking for him.”

“Yea okay, you two were reading.” Val rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t change the subject, Valencia!”

“Olive! Please tell me that I’m not sitting where…” 

“No, Helen, you’re safe. Nothing happened.” 

“As long as I’m not- “

“Would you two please focus! Everett just said he loves me!”

“Well of course he loves you!” Tattie rolled her eyes, walking past on her way to the showers. 

“No, I mean, that’s the first time he’s ever said it.”

“I find that hard to believe.” She shouted, remaining in the conversation while freshening up. 

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, for starters, it’s the way you gaze into each other's eyes when you think no one is looking…” Helen grinned, rolling over to her stomach on the bed, chin propped on her hands and feet in the air like she was at a slumber party. 

“Or when we are looking.” Olive teased, lighting two cigarettes and passing one to Val. “Here Chicken, come on…”

Val gratefully accepts the cigarette from Olive, taking a long pull before exhaling again. Her next words come out in a swirl of white smoke, her eyes glassy like she’s lost in a memory. 

“The last person who told me they loved me…”

“There was someone before Blakely?” Tattie’s head popped out from the wall of the bathroom. 

“I don’t like talking about it,” Val sighed. “We met when I started working at the bank. He was a big shot and I was a secretary.”

“Val, you don’t have to tell us.” 

“No, it’s okay. I want to,” She sighed. “I think I need to, to finally be rid of him.”

“Rid of him?”

“He was a real sweet talker,” She started. “Not like Curt or Ev. He was the kind of guy who could charm the skirt off a nun. Not even Curt can do that.”

“Oh…”

“So, he charmed me. Charmed me real good, and made me lots of promises.”

“Val, did he…”

“No,” Shaking her head violently, she took another drag of her cigarette. “I was so enthralled by him, I had wanted to.”

“So what happened?”

“The secretaries would always leave at five in the dot. So, there would be nights I would go home and he would still be working, and so Curt would meet me and walk me home. And one night, we were walking home, we came up to the picture house, and there he was.”

“Oh no…” Helen’s hand was covering her mouth, eyes wide in shock as she put two and two together. 

“He was with another woman,” She shook her head. “I don’t know who she was, but I begged Curt to take me home.”

“Did you ever see him again?”

“Yes. In the police station. Curt beat him within an inch of his life. They both got arrested for a public brawl.”

“Valencia!”

“I had to identify them both,” She sighed. “Curt had claimed self defense, so, when it came time to make my statement, I said that my ex had attacked me, and Curt fought back in my defense.”

“Oh my god!”

“I tried dating other fellas after the dust settled, but Curt was always wildly protective, and made it difficult. I get why he did it.”

“He really is your protector isn’t he…”

“Until I found out he was the one who divulged my cocktail order to Everett…”

“Curt did!?”

“He did…” She smiled, the cigarette now burned nearly down to her fingers. “He surprises me in funny ways like that.”

“Insufferable, that one,” Olive chuckled. “But he really is a good egg.”

“What are you going to tell Blakely?” Tattie had joined them back in the main area of the hut. 

“That I love him too,” She grinned. “Because I do love him.”

Everett’s note to Val was now safely tucked into the book on her side table. The first I Love You now pressed gently between the pages of The Great Gatsby so that she could fix herself up in time for dinner. Eating in the Officers Mess meant putting on your cleanest uniform, and her coffee stained, donut greased, jumpsuit would not do. Not when Chick Harding was a few tables away, and the high ranking members of their airbase were dining in the same room. That’s what she told herself at least, as she sat in front of the mirror in her skirt and blouse, pinning her hair so that it fell neatly against her shoulders. 

The neatly pressed uniform was for The Brass, but the victory red lips, mascara on her lashes and rouge pinched cheeks were for Everett. She knew that even if she was still wearing a jumpsuit covered in grease or Meatball’s fur, he’d still pull her close and kiss her hello, but she liked the idea of getting primped for him. For looking clean on his arm when she knew he’d be showing up in a clean uniform as well. At the mirror next to her, Olive was doing the same thing. Painstakingly pinning her hair away from her face, and applying her lipstick just so that Dougie could kiss it off of her later, she was sure. 

“That color looks good on you.” 

“Yea?” Olive glanced at her in the reflection of the mirror, eyes only just meeting hers before going back to her hair. “It’s not too dark?”

“Not at all, it’s the perfect shade of red for you.”

“I think only you can pull off that Victory Red,” Olive chuckled. She remembered the first time Val had helped her get ready for the club and had applied her own red lipstick, the brighter red just not working with her skin at all. “It was not for me.”

“Oh gosh, do you remember how fast you wiped it off!”

“Immediate no,” Olive laughed, a sigh immediately following as she threw a hair pin to the table. “Ugh, this side does not want to cooperate!”

“Here, let me…” Val stood, coming to stand behind her as she deftly began rolling Olive’s hair between her fingers and pinning it back for her. 

“How do you do it?”

“From an early age my mother taught me to be a ‘proper lady’,” She shook her head before breaking out into an impression of her mother. “Valencia, don’t leave the house without lipstick on. Don’t forget to set your hair.”

Olive laughed fully at Val’s broken English accent, making it sound as if her Italian mother was in the room with them. 

“Is that what she sounds like?”

“Oh yes. And Nonna, not a word of English.”

“Well, you’re a whizz,” Olive looked up at her as she put the final pin in place. “I need to pay better attention when you do your hair.” 

“You’re doing just fine chickie,” Val winked, slipping on her watch and moving to pick her jacket up off the bed. “We were all there once.”

“Thanks,” Olive beamed, pushing back from the vanity and standing to put her own jacket on. “Now come on, it’s almost 5:30 and if I know those two…”

“They’re probably already outside.” Val finished for her. 

Ev stood with Doug outside, the two men smoking while quietly discussing their practice mission earlier today with the replacements. Ev had taken a handful of the new boys up, and leading the wing, tested them on formations, calling out patterns, and PR’s from the Navigators to Radio Men. Dougie had simulated a bomb drop, all the boys in Just A Snappin had watched to see just what the new boys were capable of. There had been two forts in particular they’d been impressed with, but for the most part, the new boys were as green as the paint on a B-17. 

“I wanted to take Ol to the pub tonight, but that's not happening…”

“I know,” Ev groaned. “I owe Val a date but, based on what Jack told me earlier, we're about to go through the mud for a bit.”

“This whole place is mud,” Doug grumbled. “Never stops raining.”

“This one sounds big…”

“He say where?”

“No, Harding’s keeping it close to the vest.”

“Dammit… it would be nice to know what we’re up against for once.”

““Yea,” Ev took a final pull of his cigarette before tossing it in the makeshift ashtray outside the girls’ hut. “Explains why he wants us looking after these new kids.”

“Fucking replacements…” Dougie sighed. 

“Those two from Laredo were damn good,” Ev raised an eyebrow at him. “Rosenthal and Nash?”

“That kid Rosie almost gave you a run for your money, pal.”

“I’m not worried about him,” Ev nodded. “But some of these other kids wouldn’t know formation if I had it painted on the wing.”

Douglass was about to reply with a quick remark about how they should paint it on the wing, when the door opened and Val and Olive appeared. Both girls in their Red Cross dress uniform, a far cry from the sleepy faces they had found at the Clubmobile earlier in the day. Ev’s gaze immediately found Val’s, his hazel eyes finding hers just as her smile widened. Obviously she had seen his note, she was ready at the time he had told her to be, but what had she thought of that truth bomb he had dropped? Suddenly a bit nervous, he played it off with a kiss, greeting her as he did every time they were together. 

“Hi, pretty,” He pulled back, smiling at her. “How was your day?”

“Oh my day was lovely, dear,” She teased. “Did you have fun with the replacements?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Taking her hand, he began leading her away from the hut, checking over his shoulder to find Olive and Doug still greeting each other. “Were they respectful at least when they showed up?”

“Oh, very!” She nodded. “I think one of the new boys might be from Brooklyn, but I need to find out.”

“Another face from home,” He shook his head with a smile. “You and Curt will love that.”

“He sounded it when I handed him his coffee earlier.” 

“Did you catch his name?”

“Rosenthal…”

“Oh, Rosie!” Ev’s eyes went wide. “His crew went up with us after they met with Chick. He’s a pilot and boy can he fly.”

“Yea? Him and his Co-Pilot passed through kind of quickly, but their friend took a shine to Helen and lingered.”

“Let me guess,” Ev laughed. “Nash?”

“Yes! How did you know?”

“He was yappin up a storm in the equipment hut about the pretty Red Cross girl who served him whiskey and Dougie and I heard him.”

“Dougie didn’t try to strangle him, did he?”

“No,” He punches out a laugh, recalling the week they’ve all just endured. “We had a feeling it was Helen since Tattie was in the truck when we left.”

“She’s smitten, that’s for sure.”

“Well, for his sake, he better treat her right.”

Val nodded in agreement as they reached the Officers Mess, Everett pulling the door open for her and allowing her to enter ahead of him. Once they were both inside, he led her to a table, one hand on the small of her back, the other quickly pulling his crush cap off and tucking it under his arm. He found Benny saving a few seats in the middle of the room, Croz already seated across from him, John Brady to his left. The three of them were talking animatedly, Meatball’s head resting between Croz and Brady. 

“Fellas,” Ev greeted, pulling out a chair for Val and waiting for her to sit. “How’re we all doing?”

“Blakely,” Brady offered in greeting. “Nice to see you outside the truck, Val.”

“You saw me in the club last night…”

“I know but, this is what Jules would call a proper conversation. So, it’s…”

“Nice to not be rushed off from the truck, or shouting over the band in the club. I hear you.”

“Exactly, yes.”

“Dougie with you, Ev?” Benny looked over at him, Ev now in the seat across from Val so that they could see each other. He also ventured a guess that she’d want Olive next to her. 

“He and Olive were behind us, should be here in a minute.”

“Are those two done fighting now?” Croz looked up from the table. 

“They had better be,” Demarco grumbled. “Otherwise I had Tattie Spaatz on my shoulders and stayed up till sunrise for nothing.”

“Wait, who was on your shoulders!?” Harry balked, his big brown eyes wide in shock. 

“Tattie… it’s a long story. But that one,” Benny gestured to Val with his thumb. “And her friends are all nosey and couldn’t let Doug and Olive make up in peace, so they had to spy through the windows.”

“What windows?” Brady chimed in. 

“These windows,” Ev laughed. “Doug and Olive came in here to talk-“

“No, you forced them in here to talk,” Val corrected him. “And I couldn’t see in the little window in the door, so I used the windows up there.”

“Jesus christ, Val!” Harry laughed. 

“Biddick was holding all the jackets, Dickie had Helen on his shoulders, it was certainly something.” Benny recalled, the moment Tattie started ordering him around coming to the forefront of his mind. 

As if on cue, James Douglass came sauntering over to the table with Olive tucked under his arm, the pair grinning like teenagers. 

“That about answer your question, Croz?” Val laughed. 

“Sure does.”

Doug, doing his best to behave like a gentleman, pulled the chair out next to Val for Olive, before rounding the table to take the seat next to Everett. 

“So, fellas, how’s it going then?”

“Could ask you the same thing, Dougie.” Brady grinned. 

“Oh I’m great!” Doug beamed, winking at Olive across the table. 

Val just catches her rolling her eyes at him before she turns towards Brady, the two of them discussing the letter Olive had received from his sweetheart Juliet earlier in the day. After Val had divulged her past to the girls in the hut, Olive had offered to lighten the mood by telling the girls all about the letter she had received from Juliet Thompson. Still flabbergasted by the sheer size of the letter, Val could only describe what the girl had written as a novel, and outside of James Douglass she had not seen anything capture Olive’s interest quite so much. 

“She write you an essay?” Brady jokes, and Val immediately knows that this is a common occurrence for Juliet. 

“She did, actually,” Olive nods enthusiastically.

“Yeah,” Dougie interjects. “We read it together.” The boys at the table break out into a roaring cheer at his remark, and Val see’s Olive’s cheeks turn a deep shade of red as she begins to laugh, Val falling into a fit of giggles alongside her.  

“James!” Olive scolds, hand finding Val’s on top of the table, the two of them with tears in their eyes. “Keep it quiet!” “Yeah, Doug,” Ev shakes his head in amusement, ruffling his hair a little. “Keep it quiet.”

Across the mess hall, Val see’s the pilot from earlier, Rosenthal, sitting at a table with a few other replacements. His Co-Pilot and Helen’s new eye candy, Nash are sitting with him, along with a few other members of who she assumes are both their crews. He catches her eye briefly, and she offers him a wave before turning back to Everett who’s talking about the crews he led up earlier. Brady had taken the Crash Wagon crew up on a practice run so as to avoid having to meet them, so he seems especially intrigued by what Ev has to say about how the new kids had flown. 

“Hey Val, looks like you’ve caught the eye of some of the replacements,” Benny gestures to the group of men at another table staring at her with what could only be described as hearts in their eyes. “Starry eyed kids.” 

“Rosenthal and his crew?” She sighed, shaking her head with a laugh.

“Uh, no actually…”

“What?” Everett’s head turns in the direction of where Benny is looking, his hazel eyes narrowing, his face taking on a dangerous scowl. 

“Everett, they’re not doing anything, they’re just-”

“Drooling at my girlfriend like a pack of dogs.” He practically growled, gaze fixated on the table of replacements. . 

“Ev, hey pal,” Dougie dropped a hand to his shoulder, shaking him out of it. “They’re just kids, they’ll learn.”

“Yea… learn not to ogle other people’s girlfriends.” His gaze still on the new kids, voice raised to get his point across. The faces of the replacements go pale as they realize that the woman they’ve been whispering about is the Captain’s girlfriend. 

“Everett…” Val warned. 

Before he could say anything, Gale Cleven’s voice carried over from the table with the replacements, the major standing with his hands on his hips as he addressed the boys now staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Fellas,” He nodded. “Those girls will get your utmost respect, understood?”

A chorus of yes, major echoed through the room, Buck nodding in satisfaction at their answer before moving on. 

“Boys, Miss Lewis, Miss Val,” He offered them all a smile, giving Val a slight wink knowing she heard him with the replacements. “Enjoy dinner everyone.”  

“Major,” Everett nodded. “Thank you sir.”

“You see?” Val nudged him gently, as Buck walked towards where John Egan was waiting for him with Curt and Dickie. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to go all…”

“Green with envy?”

“Yea, that.”

“Don’t worry,” She grinned, picking her napkin up and placing it in her lap. “I only have eyes for you.”

——————————————————————

By the time dinner is finished, the lack of sleep has fully caught up with just about everyone, and the girls make the decision to forgo the Officers Club for the evening. Instead they choose to spend time sitting outside the Red Cross hut, taking the chairs they’ve commandeered from the club outside and propping the door open so that the record player can be heard. 

“Ev, we need to get a record player in our rack.” Doug laments, lighting two cigarettes and passing one to Olive who's perched on his lap. 

“Croz has a record player,” Ev sighs, tucking Val into his side as they squeeze into the borrowed armchair together. 

“Yea, but he plays fancy stuff.” Dougie gripped around his Lucky Strike. 

“What exactly is fancy stuff, Doug?” Val laughs, peering over at him.

“You know, opera and stuff.”

“Classical music is nice. Nonna plays a lot of classical Italian at home, it’s actually quite nice.”

“What does Pearl play in her house, Ol?” Dougie ducks his head down to peer at his girlfriend, a smile blooming on her face at the mere mention of her grandmother. 

“Oh, a lot of Glenn Miller in her house.” She replies in a sigh, and Val can tell she’s thinking of home. 

The feeling of nostalgia spreads over them all like a warm blanket, the girls sharing anecdotes of home and growing up and living with their grandmothers. Val is practically draped over Everett in their shared seat, leaning over to get closer to Olive as she shares tales from the kitchen; making meatballs and sauce on Sundays, and arancini every time there’s a special occasion. That once she was old enough, Nonna DiRosano would beckon her into the kitchen and teach her how to prepare the traditional meals so that one day she could cook them for her own family. She recalls how up until the day she left for England, she would request a traditional Sunday meal for her birthday every year, no matter what day of the week it would fall on. She laughed thinking about how Curt and his mother would always need to be present at the table, the Irish woman and her son happy to share in delicacies that were special to their friends that had become like family. In turn, Val had also learned how to prepare a traditional St. Patrick’s Day meal from Mrs. Biddick; the older woman had once thought her son would be the apple of Val’s eye, and he was, but as a brother was to a sister. Still, she had insisted that Val learn, because one day I won’t be here to cook for my son, and heaven knows what kind of wife he’ll end up with. Val’s impression of Mrs. Biddick is spot on, her Irish accent something that has the others laughing and for a moment, forgetting all about where they are. That blanket of nostalgia is warm, tucked around them so snug, they can almost feel the softness of its cover. 

The boys, both enthralled at hearing all about how Val and Olive had grown up, begin to share some of their childhood memories as well. Everett is quick to share that he was a troublemaker of a child, something that Val immediately finds amusing because as much as he enjoys putting his feet up and having fun, her Everett is the most GI of GI’s according to the other men around base. She’s hard pressed to agree with them, because when the time comes for a mission, he’s all business. Tattie and Helen join them as Everett is in the middle of telling a story about how nothing fragile was ever safe in his parent’s home, his hazel eyes bright with childlike mischief before he morphed into his best impression of his mother, just to get a rise out of his audience. 

“All I heard was, and it scared the life out of me, let me tell ya, was ‘Everett Ernest, if you so much as look at that vase–’” He crowed, Val laughing from her spot in his lap. 

“Wait, wait!” Olive shakes her head, wanting to make sure she heard him correctly. “Your middle name is Ernest?”

“Yes, and what of it, English?” He fires back with a grin. 

“I'm sorry, it's just–” Her own laughter takes the words right out of her mouth, her head thrown back onto Doug’s shoulder. “I didn't expect that. You don't–”

The laughter takes over once more, Everett shaking his head at her antics, the pilot now hiding his face in Val’s shoulder. 

“Oh come on, Ol!” Val laughs, her fingers combing through Everett’s hair. 

“You don't look like an Ernest, that's all.”  She finishes. 

“Go on then, what's yours?” Ev challenges her, eyes narrowed. 

“Maude.” She giggles, catching the glint in his eye as she says it. 

“Maude?” It's his turn to laugh now, the sound carrying across the open night air. “Jesus, Ol, that's worse than Ernest!” 

“I think it's cute,” Dougie says, sweetly tapping her nose gently.  

“Thank you!” Her nose wrinkles sweetly under his finger. “I think so too.” 

“I think Ernest is adorable,” Val grins, turning to face him, Olive and Dougie now in their own little world. “Suits you very well.”

“What’s yours?” Ev prods, his hand coming up to twirl a loose curl around his finger. 

“Chiara,” She sighs. “Valencia Chiara.”

“Beautiful…” He whispers, bringing her face closer to his, noses touching just so. 

“You think so?”

He nods gently, the space between them almost non-existent. 

Val can feel him tense up underneath her, his body going stiff as they remain pressed close together. There’s a pretty good idea of what might have caused it running laps in her mind, and she resolves to finally put the man under her out of his misery with a bit of teasing. 

“Honey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong…” 

“Ev, you’re really tense.” She pushes, trying to get him to crack. 

“No, no I’m okay,” He shifts under her, and she can tell he’s practically begging his body to relax. “Honest.”

“You don’t seem okay…”

“Promise, I’m okay.” 

“Would it make you feel better if you knew that I loved you too?” Peering down at him, her eyes are dancing with mirth as her mouth turns up into a smile. 

“Yes, actually it would-wait… you’ve been holding onto that all night havent you?”

“Well, you sprung it on me,” She teased. “I thought, only fair to return the favor.”

You’re terrible…” His whole body relaxes under her, his head tipping back to rest on the back of the chair. He’s smiling, the same smile as the first time he brought her a drink at the club, and asked her to dance just two months ago. 

“Maybe I am. But, you love me in spite of it.”

“I do love you…I love you so much Val.” His mouth slants over her’s without a second thought, one hand tangled in her hair as the other wraps around her waist and holds her close. They’re so lost in each other, this moment, that they don’t hear Tattie clearing her throat as she takes a seat on the short brick wall at the front of the hut, nor do they hear Doug and Olive trying to get their attention. 

“Hellooo,” Tattie calls out to them. “Lovebirds, the rest of us are still here.”

“Hmm? Oh, yea yea, we know.” Val waves her away, tucking herself back into Everett’s chest. 

“Did you tell him?” Olive presses. 

She’s smiling as she takes the cigarette from Doug, his blue eyes narrowing playfully before snatching it back from between her lips just as soon as she’s taken a pull from it. 

“What do you think?” Val winks.

The girls break out into a gaggle of squeals and laughter, both Everett and Dougie looking on as they smile and carry on with glee. Seeing them outside of the truck and in their uniforms, smiling and carrying on as girls were meant to, not under the din of war and loss, made both the boys smile. Tattie pulls her cigarettes out, lighting the last one and tossing the box to the side. She passes it to Val, who takes a pull before passing to Helen who’s sitting between the two couples. 

Helen, the most inexperienced smoker, keeps coughing at each drag she takes. Each cough is dainty and delicate, in a way that only Helen can manage. 

“Helen, doll,” Olive urges. “Put that out, you're hurting yourself!”

“I don't wanna look like the party pooper!” She gripes.

“I can promise, you're not,” Olive laughs, gesturing with a wave of her hand to give her the cigarette, the tip covered in her lipstick. 

As she stubs it out, four men round the corner, all of them wide eyed as they spot both Captains sitting outside so casually. Val looks up with a grin and waves, beckoning them over while Helen visibly swoons at the sight of the thin, dark haired pilot. 

“Ohhhh,” Olive teases, knowingly. “Is that Nash?.”

Helen giggles, tucking an invisible strand of hair behind her ear as she nods shyly.   

“Oh, Helen, your hair is fine.” Olive guffaws, shaking her head.

The quartet of replacements approaches hesitantly, Nash immediately making a beeline for Helen without so much as a wave to Val and Olive, or acknowledging Ev and Doug. They take it in stride as Val stands from Everett’s lap to greet Rosie, Pappy and the third man who she hasn’t officially met yet. 

“Rosie,” Ev extends his hand for him to shake before moving to do the same with the other two men. “Fellas, enjoying yourselves?”

“Captain Blakely,” Rosie nods, standing straight. “Miss Val.”

“Rosie, it’s alright, you don’t have to do that out here,” Everett insists with a kind smile. “We’re all just shooting the breeze.” 

“Yea, come join us,” Val grins at them, turning to wave Olive over towards where they’re gathered. “Olive, come meet the new fellas!”

Olive is off Doug’s lap like a shot, pulling Tattie with her as she joins Val and Everett with the new boys. The girls don’t see Everett slip backwards towards where Doug is still sitting, leaving Val to introduce the new boys to both Tattie and Olive. 

“Olive, Tattie, this is Robert,” Val begins. “His Co-Pilot Pappy, Speas is Nash’s Co-Pilot and Nash is…where's he gone off to?”

“I'll give ya three guesses,” Pappy wiggles his eyebrows. 

“That was fast.” Olive titters. “He's keen.”

“He sure is.” He says, looking at Olive. “Sorry Miss…?”  

“Lewis. Olive Lewis.”

 “No way!” He gestures to himself, hand coming to his chest in a fit of excitement. “Pappy Lewis!” 

“Oh?!” Olive squeals, clutching at his arm in excitement before remembering her surroundings. “I mean, it's a pretty common name, Pappy.”

“Never met a Brit with the same one before though,” He ponders. “Truth be told, I’ve never met a Brit until just now.”

“It’s your lucky day,” Olive grins at him. “A Brit and a long lost cousin all at once.” 

“Hey, Rosie!” He hollers, unaware that his pilot is still standing right next to him, watching the entire thing unfold with Val and Tattie. “Came all the way to England and found my cousin!”

“Pappy, she's not–” He tries to reason. 

Pappy pulls Olive into a one armed hug, the over excited man resembling Meatball when he’s tied to the pole outside the Clubmobile and trying to get attention from everyone as they pass by on their way. Olive quickly pulls Pappy over towards Doug, and Val can see the excitement on both of their faces at the blooming friendship between them; Olive doing exactly what Val had been questioning all afternoon. The question of caring too much, getting too attached, seeming millions of miles away as new friends blended with old friends, something special igniting between all of them. 

“Rosie, ladies, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to head to the rack and get some sleep,” Speas addresses the group. “It’s been a day.”

“Oh, of course, go on then. We’ll see you tomorrow.” Val waves goodnight, before watching as he claps Rosie on the shoulder before turning towards their designated hut. 

“We won’t be long,” Rosie nods after him. “Nash is probably going to be a while, but I’ll wait for Pappy.”

“Come sit,” Val turns back towards where they had all been gathered earlier. “The record player is still going, and we’re just relaxing.”

“I don’t want to intrude, really.”

“Robert-”

“Rosie’s fine, Miss Val.”

“Just Val, please.”  She narrows her eyebrows playfully at him as she takes her seat back outside the hut, Everett standing to pull Doug’s now empty chair over for Rosie to sit in, while Pappy takes a seat on the half wall next to Tattie. 

“Yea, come on fellas, no pressure,” Ev pulls out his cigarettes, offering one to Rosie who politely declines. Pappy accepts, lighting it before offering to share it with Tattie. “Besides, she’s been itching to ask you a few questions.”

“Everett,” She rolls her eyes, but stops when she realizes Olive and Doug are nowhere to be found. “Hey, where’d they go? Are they reading again?”

“They went for a walk,” He gave her a look that said there was more to it, but he didn’t want to kill the mood. “But I changed the record after they left.” 

“Artie Shaw…” Rosie commented, picking up on the melody coming from the open door of the Red Cross hut. 

“The man knows his stuff,” Pappy commented. “I’m surprised he’s not playing with Benny Goodman instead.”

“Do you play?” Everett asked, forearms braced on his thighs as he focused on Rosie. 

“No, not a note,” Rosie chuckled, turning towards Everett. “My mother and sister though, boy can they play.”

“So, you prefer Rosie over Robert then…”

“My mother calls me Robert.” His face twists into something childish, and she can immediately tell he misses his mother, but maybe doesn’t miss hearing his full name all the time. 

“And his sweetheart calls him Robbie!” 

“Pappy!”

“What! I’m just letting them know!” He shrugs from where he’s sitting, a laugh bubbling up that he tries to cover with a cough. 

“Okay, so, Rosie, what part of Brooklyn are you from?” Val turns to him, a twinkle in her eye. 

“How did you-”

“I’m from Bensonhurst.” She grins, red lips stretched wide as she sees Rosie’s eyes widen in recognition.

“I grew up in Flatbush!”

“Oh we’re practically neighbors!” She turned to Ev with a smile, explaining. “Flatbush and Bensonhurst are ten minutes apart, honey.”

“Yeah, guess we are!”

“And is your sweetheart in Flatbush too?” She prods. 

“She is, yeah…”

“What’s her name?” Everett asks, flicking the ash of his cigarette to the ground before tossing it into the ashtray. 

“Josephine,” Rosie smiles, a far off look in his eye. “I uhh, I call her Jo.”

“Rosie Rosenthal, you and I are going to be great friends.” Val nods, immediately feeling a sense of peace with Rosie and Pappy. 

Val makes a mental note to introduce Rosie to Croz, knowing that his wife is living by herself in the city and could probably use a friend to help pass the time. Based on the friendly disposition of the man, she could only surmise that his Josephine was as mild mannered and kind as he had been so far, and as a fellow Brooklyn girl, Val had resolved to write to her once she got to know Rosie a little better. If she were on the opposite side of things, she would want someone telling her how Everett was truly managing while overseas. Then again, if she had remained on the other side of things, she wouldn’t know Everett, and would simply be waiting for letters from England from Curt. He was another one who she had made a mental note to introduce to Rosie, though she wondered if Curt’s brash personality would be too much for the soft spoken boy from Flatbush. Then again, you could never have too many friends. 

“Hey uh, let me ask you something,” Pappy garnered the attention of the group. “Did I see a dog running around the hardstands earlier?”

“That’s Meatball,” Tattie groaned, catching a look from Val. “What! Don’t look at me like that!”

“Like what?” Val laughed, knowing exactly where Tattie was headed.

“Yea, Tat, Meatball’s a good boy,” Ev cut in teasingly. “He loves you, why don’t you love him?”

“Oh I like him just fine, Blakely,” She chuckled. “But I don’t like my clothes covered in doggy fur, or when he gets inside the Clubmobile.”

“Wait wait, hold on,” Pappy leans forward, eyes wide in amusement. “His name is Meatball?”

“Yes.”

“And he goes into the Clubmobile?”

“Yes.”

“What, does he make coffee and donuts too?”

“Oh no, he’s Benny DeMarco’s dog,” Everett chuckled. “He won him in a game of craps when we came over from Greenland.”

“He brought that dog up in a B-17?!” Rosie balked, eyes the size of saucers, reminiscent of when Val had found out how the Husky had made it to Thorpe Abbotts. 

“He did, yea. Got him a mask and everything.” Ev laughed, remembering how Benny had paid a whole three dollars for a mask for Meatball before loading him into Our Baby in Greenland. 

The five of them sat there a while longer, casual conversation and laughter surrounding them with ease. That blanket from earlier, the softness and warmth that had covered them had returned, the air around them comfortable and calm. A moment that had Val wondering just how long it would last. How long would it be before the light was on, and the boys were rushing between the briefing hut and the hardstand. Coffee and a donut for the road, a goodbye kiss and a prayer to return safely. Waiting in the Interrogation Hut to count the forts as they returned, rosary beads clutched between her fingers, and watchful eyes counting the men as they staggered back from their mission. 

As the thoughts swirled in her mind, the sound of the siren cut through the night air and pulled the blanket off them with a vengeance. Red Bowman’s voice fell upon them as the siren came to a stop, his thick New England accent the only thing anyone could hear. 

The light was on. 

Everyone back to your racks.

It was as if she had willed it to happen just by hoping it wouldn’t. 

“Well boys, you heard the man, light’s on.” Ev groaned, standing from his chair, hands held out to help Val as she moved to stand. 

“The light?” Pappy asked, brows knit together.

“We’re flying tomorrow,” He nodded, gesturing to all the men filtering out of the Officer’s Club and back to their racks. “Better head back to your racks, you’ll find out in the morning if you’re on stand down or not.”

“Alright then,” Rosie stood, gesturing for Pappy to follow him. “Thanks for the warm welcome, everyone. Everett, Val, Tattie, have a good night.”

“G’night Rosie, Pappy,” Tattie waved, making her way inside the hut. “Val, I’ll give you two a minute.”

“Thanks Tat,” She smiled. “I’ll be in soon.”

With Rosie and Pappy gone, and Tattie in the hut, Everett took the opportunity to pull Val aside and give her a proper good night. 

“You alright?” He looked down at her, his arms coming to rest around her waist as he held her close. “You look a little spooked.”

“No, I’m alright,” She peered up at him. “I just worry every time that god forsaken light goes on and you have to go back up.”

“Hey, I promise I’m always going to fight to come back to you.”

“Always?”

“Every single time,” He smiled, tucking a stray curl behind her ear before pressing his lips gently to her forehead. “We have a lot ahead of us, Valencia Chiara.”

“Oh do we now, Everett Ernest?”

“We do,” He winked, tugging her closer. “And I love you.”

She would never tire of those words coming from him. Nor would she tire of saying them back. 

“I love you too,” She whispered, leaning up on her toes to meet his lips with her own. “So much.”

They stood there a few moments longer, holding each other closely while savoring the last few moments of quiet before chaos would ultimately descend on Thorpe Abbotts. Peaceful in each other's arms, safe together. Until Red Bowman’s voice was booming over the tannoy. Again. 

JAMES DOUGLASS! BED NOW!

Val stood, face pressed against Everett’s chest as they stood there cuddling. The giggle bubbling in her chest burst free in one loud cackle as Olive and Dougie came skidding around the side of the hut, laughing like school kids. She hoped that no matter what, the playfulness that they all shared would always find its way back to them after touching back down on the ground after each flight. Oh, how she loved it so. 

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

Tag List: @rowdy-redhead @winniemaywebber @sagesolsticewrites @bobparkhurst @rosiesriveter @victoryrollsandredlips @bcolfanfic @major-mads @footprintsinthesxnd @roosevelt-stalin-cocacola @justheretoreadthxxs @claireelizabeth85 @hephaestn @ktredshoes @barrykeoghussy @peachessndreamss @hellfirequinnie @spinteresting @prettyinlimegreenboots @manonsmanicmind @precious-little-scoundrel @beingalive1

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 3

featuring @ginabaker1666 's oc Valencia <3

part 1 part 2 masterlist

olive's playlist

taglist: @sagesolsticewrites @ginabaker1666 @hephaestn @manonsmanicmind @bobparkhurst @bloodynereid

Kneeling down to greet the dog, Olive lets out a giggle as he sniffs at her face. “Was it you I heard?” she murmurs, hoping the man in front of her doesn't hear. The dog looks back at her with, somehow, a knowing look in his shiny eyes. “How did you bring me here?” 

Olive begins to stand, making a nod towards Benny. “He likes you,” he says, now himself bending down to pet the dog. “That was fast.” 

“That wolf likes everyone,” a blonde man pipes up from near the airplane door. “So long as they smell good or have food, he's their friend.”

“Hey, Gale, don't tell her that,” Benny replies through gritted teeth. Gale realizes in a second what he means. 

“Oh–oh I mean, well….yeah, I guess he's taken a shine to her quicker than he did with most of us.” With that, he clambers into the plane, his cheeks a little flushed from Benny's sudden confrontation. Olive giggles at the exchange, stood there awkwardly.

“Well, I'd better go,” he says, letting go of Meatball's leash. “Go to Kenny, boy,” he softly commands as he gestures across the airfield to a young man, his curls under a woolen hat, much too hot for a day like today. The dog bounds off in the opposite direction, Benny shaking his head and smiling. “Ah, guess he wants to see his girl Tattie instead,” he pauses for a moment, his eyes coming back to you. “It was nice to meet ya, Olive.”

“Yeah, you too,” she smiles demurely, beginning to walk away. 

“Will you be around later?” He shouts over the noise. “I'd love to take you for a drink when I'm back.”

“Oh, sure,” she replies, her face turning a little red. “I'd like that.”

“Okay. Great. See ya.” 

Olive turns away and begins to show panic on her face. “What the fuck is going on?” She asks herself under her breath. “How on earth did I get here?” She begins to breathe in and out slowly, butterflies rising up in her stomach as she recounts the way Benny looked at her. ‘Not my usual type,’ she thinks, struggling to find a sense of direction. ‘But still, cute.’

Finding herself somehow still following the dog - if he led her there, she thinks, maybe he has a good idea of where to take her now - she comes across him barking loudly at a dark haired woman who can't quite seem to wrangle him and tend to her work. She stands at medium height in a blue fitted jumpsuit that is perfectly tailored in all the right places, the color of it bringing out the chocolate brown of her eyes. As Olive takes her in, Meatball begins wrapping himself about her legs, the leash basically tying her up. 

“No, no! Darn dog, why don't you ever listen. Meatball, stop. Stop!” she yells, obviously exasperated. 

“Hey, hey,” Olive says, trying to bring the excited dog to a stop. “Stop wrapping yourself around this nice lady, huh?” Olive gently begins unraveling the leash from the woman's legs, the woman looking down at her gratefully. “There we go,” she says, fussing with the dog's ears as he pants in her face. 

“Gee, thanks,” the woman begins with a sigh. “I can never seem to control him. Only Benny seems to know how. You must be some sort of dog whisperer.”

“No, ma'am,” Olive responds, laughing. “He just seems to have taken a shine to me.”

“You can say that again,” she grins, her red lips smooth and shiny. “I'm Tattie. What's your name?”

“Olive. Olive Lewis,” she says for the second time that day. Tattie turns her head to the side slightly, looking her up and down. 

“Don't suppose you want a job for the day? I'm a girl down. Helen is sick in bed with God knows what and I can't take care of this dog and make sure these boys are placated when they get back. Wanna help out?”

“I'd love to,” Olive responds keenly. “What do I need to do?”

“Can ya pour coffee?”

“Sure can, with a pretty smile too,” Olive says, remembering her hellish shifts as a barista between acting jobs in London's busiest coffee shop.

“Well, then. There we go. Come on, I'll show you around.”

“Here's our little Clubmobile. The boys usually come here before making their way over to the hardstand. They can grab coffee and donuts here. They've probably already eaten breakfast, but it's a little bit of home, isn't it? Lord knows these fellas need some normalcy in all this.” Olive nods, understanding. When living in London, Olive loved nothing more than recreating Pearl’s steak pie, eating it while watching her favorite soap opera. A little bit of home. 

Tattie then gestures over to the other woman in the truck. The brown haired, green eyed beautifully made up girl nods politely at Olive as Tattie introduces them, Olive seeing a little scowl as she does so.

“Valencia can take it from here. I'll be back.”

Valencia walks up to Olive, her red lips pursed a little. She reaches a hand out in greeting and shakes Olive's, who is a little taken aback. 

“Tattie introduces me as Valencia, but please call me Val.” 

“Alright, Val,” Olive replies, winking. The scowl seems to melt away instantly, her pretty face softening.

“My gosh, you're English,” she giggles. “You may be the first  American Red Cross girl from England. Boy, aren't we special!”

“Only for today, apparently. Let's not celebrate it quite yet, Val.”

“No, you'll be back. I'll make sure of it.” She nudges Olive playfully. “I like you already.”

—

“So, you can see we’re not exactly rushed off our feet here when the boys go up,” Val says, sat on a chair with her legs up on a table, fiddling with her perfectly manicured nails. “I sometimes help Chick with some secretarial work to pass the time. Typing records, that kind of thing.”

Right on cue, a man comes bursting through the door of the hut, making Val jump. “Talk of the devil,” she murmurs, standing up quickly. “Jesus, Chick. Almost jumped outta my skin.”

“Then you best start being on your guard a little more. Less relaxed. We're at war!” he laughs. “Be a doll and grab me a coffee?”

“I'll get it,” Olive says, her eyes darting between the two nervously. Chick's eyes seem to narrow when he hears an accent that is not American, his head jerking back a little in surprise. “How do you like it?”

“Cream and sugar, please, Miss, uh–”

“Lewis. Olive.” She departs the hut, making her way into the truck to see Meatball finally resting, his head on Tattie’s legs as she reads the newspaper. 

“Who's that for?”

“Val told me his name was Chick?”

“Oh, shit,” she says, putting the paper on the counter. 

“Hey, don't worry,” Olive says, pouring the coffee into a paper mug. “I volunteered.”

“It's not that I'm worried about,” she says as she sees Chick walks slowly up to the door of the Clubmobile. “Watch the dog.” 

Olive places the cup of coffee on the serving hatch of the truck, eavesdropping on the conversation between Chick and Tattie. 

“What in God's name is an English girl doing here?”

“I'm a girl down, Chicky–”

“Ms Tattie, you know I hate that nickname–”

“And I need an extra pair of hands while Helen is sick in bed.”

“You wouldn't need that if Demarco ever tried training that damn dog of his.”

“Chicky, come on,” she pleads. “Let me keep her on. She's delightful, already great with Meatball - can you believe he listened to her the first time she asked? - and she gets on so well with Valencia already. Please, Chick. Just this once.”

“Fine,” he relents, his Southern drawl really coming through on the exasperated word. He collects the coffee from where Olive set it and takes a sip, his face a picture of surprise. 

“For a Brit, you make a damn good cup of Joe, girl.” Tattie looks at Olive through the hatch and winks knowingly, Olive winking back and giggling.

—

“Come for a drink with us, Ol,” Val asks. “You can meet my guy…and maybe one of your own.” Before Olive can answer, Tattie throws a knowing look over to Val. “She already has, Valencia. Fell at Demarco's feet this morning from what I heard.” Olive's face suddenly turns a light shade of red, giggling under the gaze of the two girls. 

“Oooohh!” Val says, poking at Olive. “That was fast.”

“What can I say? Some Brits do work quickly when it comes to romance.” 

“I get it. He's cute!”

“Oh, absolutely. Just not my usual type.”

“Who is?” Val asks, a twinkle in her eye. 

—

Surveying her as they're about to enter the hut, Val looks her up and down. “You okay if I dress you up a bit? You can borrow one of my dresses. We're about the same size, Ol. Just until you get a uniform tomorrow.”

“Sure, I'd love that. I probably look like I've been dragged through a hedge backwards.” Opening the door quietly so as not to wake Helen, Val begins to tiptoe in until she sees the lights are on. 

“Oh, hey, girl! This is Olive. She came to the rescue while you were sick today. Seemed to appear from thin air, Tat said.”

“Hi,” the pale, dark haired girl says with a hoarse voice. “I'm Helen. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too. Feeling any better?” 

“Sure am. Nurse Tattie's orders to stay in bed despite my insistence actually helped. I'll be back out there with you both tomorrow.” 

“You are staying, right?” Val questions, already pawing at the scarf Olive had tied on her head this morning.

“If you'll have me,” she smiles. “I'm sort of in between things right now. I'd love to be with you both, if that's okay with you.”

“Uh, of course, girl!” Val replies, nudging her playfully. “Welcome to our little family. Now, let's get you dressed up.”

—

Val dabs at Olive's face a final time and sighs contentedly. “There, all done. Take a look.” 

Olive opens her eyes and gasps softly, a totally different person looking back at her in the mirror. It's exactly how she's always wanted to look: soft pin curls that had been twisted perfectly by Val's deft fingers, the subtle pink blush, brushed gently on her cheekbones, the flawless eyeliner upon her eyelids. The dress Val had picked, a soft blue shade that brought out the light brown of her hair and her hazel eyes fit perfectly, just as she had thought. Val smiles gently at Olive's reaction, reaching down one last time with a lipstick brush in her hand. 

“This is my favorite shade,” she grins, those red lips standing out underneath her green eyes. “Let me try it on you.”

At the final smudge, Olive looks at her reflection once again, and grimaces. “Eugghh,” she scowls. “Val, I think this shade only looks good on certain people. And by certain people, I mean you.”

“And Everett,” she says wistfully, her eyes twinkling as she dips a wash cloth in a bowl of water and begins to wipe at Olive's mouth. The two girls make eye contact and giggle, knowing exactly what she means. “Let's try this one,” she says, once again digging around her makeup box. She holds a more pink-red shade up to Olive's face and nods, dabbing at the stick with a new brush. “There, much better.”

—

“Helen, are you sure you're not coming?” Olive asks as her and Val stand up to leave. 

“No, dolls. I'm almost at the end of this dang flu though, so I'll see you tomorrow? Olive, I'll make sure your bunk is ready for tomorrow night.”

“Did anyone change the sheet since Curt was in here with Nurse Itchy?”

“Eugh, no! I'm glad you reminded me. I don't want Olive sleeping in that.”

“Nurse Itchy?” Olive squeals, slightly confused but giggling nevertheless. 

“Nurse Itchy,” Helen nods, sniffling slightly as she laughs along. “She'd been getting everyone, uh, sick, which I think goes against some sort of code. Anyway–”

“Anyway,” Val interrupts, overlapping Helen. “I was fixing Curt's shirt - you may meet him tonight, he's been my best friend since we were sandbox kids - and he came by to pick it up. He decided to bring company and in return, probably caught the clap.”

“Yeah, him and five others,” Helen titters, shaking her head. 

“Oh, minging!”

“Eeewwww, ming-ing,” the other girls playfully mock in a faux British accent. “That's such a great word, I need to keep that in my pocket.”

“Minging,” Helen repeats as she lays her head on her pillow. “That's excellent!”

—

 Entering the club, Val grabs Olive by the hand and pulls her towards her ‘usual’ spot, right by the bar. 

“Jesus, Valencia,” Olive grumbles. “Almost pulled my elbow out of its socket.”

“Oh, don't be a baby,” she winks, pulling off her jacket and placing it on the back of her chair. “Anyway, had to rush for the perfect spot before Itchy and Co came along and took it. Look,” she points across the room to two men sat at the bar, deep in conversation. The taller one, with light brown hair looks over and winks. Val giggles, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That's my Ev. Everett Blakely.”

“Oh!” Olive begins. “He's very handsome.”

“You got that right, doll. There, next to him, is his best friend. James Douglass.” Olive tries her best to look behind the tall Blakely, and as she does, she makes eye contact with James. It's as if the world stops turning for a second, her breath caught in her throat. “Fuck me,” she chokes out, pretending to fan herself. “That's one handsome bastard.” He pats Everett on the shoulder, his mouth agape. As smooth as silk, he winks at Olive and goes back to his conversation.

“Ohhhh,” Val teases. “More your type, huh?”

Right on cue, Demarco sidles up to the table, Meatball at his side.

“Hi,” he smiles, a hand outstretched. “Can I get you a drink?” Leading her to the bar, Olive turns around and nervously glances at Val who nods, egging her on just as Ev perches on the seat Olive just abandoned. 

“That'd be lovely. An Old Fashioned, please.” 

“Sure.”

“And how's my new best friend doing?” she asks, crouching to pet the dog. “Huh? You doing okay? Tired from running Miss Tattie ragged all day?”

“Ah, he's really no trouble.”

“Don't hear Tattie hear you say that,” she grins. “He tied himself up around her earlier and she was not pleased. Not to mention the fur on the donuts.”

“It's just an extra sprinkle of love!”

“It ain't love,” a voice calls from behind Olive. “I don't like hair in my mouth at the best of times as it is. But on my donut? Come on, Benny.” Olive turns to see Douglass, cheekily smiling at Benny, who, in turn, has clenched his jaw. 

“Come on, man,” he says, patting his shoulder. “You know I'm kidding.” Within an instant, Demarco's jaw has relaxed and he's laughing along with James, them playfully shoving each other. 

Demarco leans over the bar to order their drinks as James remains beside Olive. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks, not making eye contact. 

“Oh, Benny's actually just getting me one. Maybe you can get me the next one. If you get there in time.”

“Oh, I see,” he teases. “Well, I'll try my best to keep an eye on you. The second I see that glass empty, I'm on it.”

“Sure,” Olive giggles. “I'll be waiting.” 

—

True to his word, the second Olive drains her glass, another is put in front of her. James is stood in front of the table Olive and Benny are sitting at, his chest slightly puffed out. “Told ya,” he said, clicking his tongue as he winks. Walking away, he joins Ev and Val at their table, pointedly pulling out an empty seat next to him. Pretending to join their conversation, he sips from his drink, his eyes dragging their way up and down Olive's body in such a way that she feels her stomach seize up in such a way that it makes her knees weak. She is glad to be sitting down, her thighs squeezing together as if they have a mind of their own.

“Right,” Benny says, putting his whiskey glass down louder than intended. “I gotta make sure Meatball gets outside before I get to bed. Will I see you tomorrow? I could walk ya home if you like?”

“No!” Olive blurts, panicking slightly. “I mean, no thanks. I'm good, I got it. But yes, you'll see me tomorrow. I'll save a donut for you and Meatball.”

“Perfect,” he says, standing up. “Goodnight.” He leans forward and kisses her gently on the cheek. Nodding at her, he leads Meatball out of the bar, Olive turning and puffing her cheeks out in some kind of unknown relief. 

She's alone for a millisecond before James is back beside her, handing her a cigarette. “You smoke?”

“I do. Can you believe I forgot mine in my purse at home?”

“At home? Don't you live here with Val and Helen?”

“Not yet. As of tomorrow, yes.”

“Can't wait for the prettiest girl in all of East Anglia to hand me a donut and a cup of coffee every morning.”

“Oh, stop,” she grins, the cigarette between her lips, feeling her cheeks grow pinker by the second. 

“Bet I can make ya laugh in one second.”

“Really?” She says, eyes narrowing. “Go for it.”

“What's the difference between a hippo and a zippo?”

“I don't know, James. What is the difference?” 

“One is really heavy,” he begins, pulling his own zippo from his pocket. “The other is a little lighter!”

The cackle that leaves Olive's body has her instantly clamping a hand over her mouth, the other on her stomach. “That's a great laugh,” he says, lighting her cigarette for her as her hand leaves her mouth. “Don't cover your mouth when you laugh, though. You have a pretty smile.”

“Thanks,” she giggles, taking a drag of the cigarette. 

“Come on,” he says, his own cigarette between his teeth. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and she instantly cozies up to him. “Come sit with us. Saved you a seat.”

Val smiles up at the couple as they sit down, James's arm only leaving Olive's shoulders for a moment. 

“Ev, this is Olive, who I was telling you about. She'll be joining us on the Clubmobile as of tomorrow.”

“Hey, Olive. I see you've already met my pal Dougie here.”

“Sure have. With a terrible joke, too.”

“Not the hippo zippo one again!”

“She laughed her ass off, Ev.”

“She's just being polite.”

“No, seriously. It tickled me,” she interjects, winking at Dougie. He grins back, lighting another smoke. 

“Another drink, sweetheart?” Ev asks Val as he gets up. 

“Yes, please, honey,” she smiles. 

“Olive?” 

“Yeah, go on then.” He nods.

“Dougie, come give me a hand, bud.”

As soon as the boys depart, a shorter man with perfectly slicked dark hair slinks up to Val. 

“Valencia, my best buddy,” he says, setting his beer on the table. “Who's ya new friend?”

“Curtis, you're a pain in my ass,” Val says through gritted teeth. “Get!”

“Alright, fine,” he laughs, winking at both the girls. 

“I don't want you to catch his itch,” Val laughs. 

“Honestly, I don't want to itch either, girl.” 

The boys return, Val instantly making heart eyes at her man. Dougie plonks down heavily next to Olive, his hand finding its way to her thigh. 

“So, tell me about yourself.”

“What do you wanna know?” she asks, sipping her drink.

“Everything. We got all night.”

read part 4 here