#james douglass x oc

[wexhappyxfew]

no hard feelings

(a/n): dougie deserves all the love and carrie achterberg was the perfect opportunity to test it out. had some ideas for these two a while back and finally pieced together their dynamic later in the war. there’s plenty of time to talk about their earlier dynamic but for now….enjoy these two and a look into their history together :) enjoy! ....oh and if you're a Sunshine Soldier fan (my first BoB fic), from ages ago, there's a treat for you stuffed in here!

"Well, well, well. Look what we have here. Pleasure seeing you ladies here."

Carrie glanced up from her rather in-depth conversation with Paulina and Bessie and found James Douglass, leaned up against the chair in front of them, across the table, a wide smile on his face, as he glanced at their faces and then settled on Carrie.

James Douglass - to which she had annoyingly started calling him Dougie, like the others - was never one to entertain nor hold onto something far longer than needed. However, when it came to her and, particularly, teasing her, he held onto that like a rope tied around his finger. He never let go.

"To what do I have the displeasure of seeing you," Carrie said looking up at him with a wry grin, to which he raised a brow at, "c'mon, let me have it. What is it? You need shoeshine for those things you call boots. You need me to go and kiss-up because you said something you shouldn't have. No wait - I got it. You managed to wake up late and missed breakfast, and need me to smooze you into getting coffee." The tables around them grew slightly quiet, a few heads turning; Paulina stuck to staring between the two, a bunch of scrambled eggs in her mouth, Bessie taking the opportunity to loudly sip on her coffee that was growing cold. Dougie sent her a look with his eyes and then looked at Paulina swiftly.

"Lieutenant Bradshaw said something about a fuse in Silver Bullets blowing," he offered, before dropping his voice, "right near the radio." Paulina's fork dropped and she launched up out the chair and darted away, calling over her shoulder through the loud lunch room, half-chewing, half-attempting to speak.

"I'll be back!" she called, wiping at her mouth, "James Douglass I'll have your head for this if you're joking around with that no-good head of yours!" Carrie watched her disappear and then watched Dougie look at Bessie, who sat rather unfazed and slightly tuned out of the conversation. Carrie momentarily shut her eyes when she knew what was coming.

"Kidd's looking for ya. Said he had a few things to talk to you about, from the good Colonel himself." Dougie offered and she stared at him and raised a brow, before ceremoniously wiping her mouth and standing.

"I'll be back." she muttered, eyeing Dougie, before sending Carrie a look, to which she rolled her eyes. Which left Carrie with Dougie.

Good God.

She turned her eyes to look at him and then leaned against the table, lacing her fingers, offering a rather sarcastic smile instead of sweet.

Listen, she got along with James Douglass, the whole base did, but sometimes he sweet-talked her because he enjoyed it. And he knew how much he could get to her, even if it was just teasing. Bessie always teased Carrie back that it was because he was taking a liking to her.

Carrie Achterberg was absolutely not one to take to gossip like that and had promptly squashed that. He had joked with her like this since training - it was James Douglass for Chrissake - he did it because half the time, there was enough sadness on this base to fill up an ocean.

"What do you want?" she said, pointedly acknowledging how rather relaxed he was, and how drained she appeared.

"Does it always have to be something I want? What about you? What do you want?"

"For you to leave me alone, so I can enjoy breakfast. Without the fucking peanut gallery."

"That hurts me, Bergie."

"Don't call me that."

"What? A lil nickname never hurt anybody. Bessie calls you that." She raised a brow in his direction and he shook his head.

"Look, just, can you…I don't know, just do me a favor?" Carrie stared at him and raised her brow further.

"What?"

"Can you dance with me tonight? At the flying club?" Carrie stared at him, before shaking her head.

"No." Dougie sighed.

"C'mon, why not?" Carrie looked at him sharply and sent him a scowl.

"If I'm gonna dance with someone, they're going to want to actually dance with me. Not just do it because of some other girl." Carrie said quickly and inhaled more egg, "I know you've been eyeing up Charlotte Tarvers, so." Dougie blew a raspberry and waved her off.

"Nah, nah, she's….I think she's got some guy in the Airborne, I'm not....nah." Dougie said waving it off, "Really, it's just….you and I, ya know? And, look, listen, favors is a bad word anyway…." Carrie looked at him, her cheeks dotting red a bit and she shook her head.

"You're just doing it to try and get another girl to come and be all fluffy in your face. Newsflash, Dougie, I'm not taking part. Ask Margie or…or Judy! Judy would love to."

"If Benny DeMarco were here he would smash my face in for even dare touching Margie and I'd rather not become one with Captain Rosenthal's dark side so, respectively….I'll take my chances." Dougie said and then looked at her. Carrie grumbled under her breath and shook her head.

"Fine." she said, "But. You have to promise to make it worthwhile, alright? Give me a twirl, hold me agonizingly tight, but not too tight, 'kay? I might even do my hair."

"Do your hair? Oh, Bergie, that's an honor right there. I'm honored, truly."

"Buzz off, shithead. Not for you. For me." Carrie said and then bit into a piece of toast, "I don't know….maybe it'll get someone's attention." Dougie's face turned serious for a moment as Carrie enjoyed her toast and he seemed to recalibrate.

"Uh….what do ya mean?"

"I don't know…..some of the guys, you never notice how cute some of them are until you see 'em, ya know? In their Class A's, looking all put together….especially after some of those last few missions." she said, "Maybe they'll see us dancing and ask to butt in. We'll see." Dougie watched her, looking more confused by the minute, bringing a spark of laughter to Carrie's lips.

"But…..you and I, we're dancing. Together. And going. Together." Dougie said with a chuckle before shaking his head, "You can't……"

"Are you jealous, Dougie?" Carrie whispered quietly with a grin, smacking his shoulder, "You're cute when you're mad." Dougie watched her as she continued eating, frozen in place, without any sort of words.

"Don't give me that look, that's exactly how you sounded to me," she said, and raised a brow, "so….you promise, it's just gonna be you and I. No other extras, huh?"

"Promise." Dougie said quickly, "Shake on it." Carrie eyed him, but then met his grasp and shook on it, before going back to her toast and enjoying savoring the taste.

"Who's the jealous one now?" Dougie whispered quietly to her from across the table, sending the blonde a smirk and a wink, who offered nothing but a glare, "C'mon, just saying. Sounds like you want me all to yourself." Carrie looked at him and then placed down the toast and met his gaze.

"I'm doing this for no one but myself. Not you." she said. Dougie rolled his eyes and then leaned across the table and dropped his voice, lowly.

"No other extras, huh?" he whispered, "Afraid someone's gonna steal me away?" Carrie slowly looked to his face, her eyes unmistakably drifting across his face for a moment before looking back at his eyes.

"Who says I'm afraid? You're the one inviting me." she whispered back quietly, watching that stupid smirk grow on his lips - a challenge. She seemed to have caught Dougie in a crossfire as he chuckled to himself and then leaned back in his chair and laid an arm over the empty seat next to him.

"If anything, you should be afraid someone's gonna steal me away. I've met plenty of those gentlemen to know they'd take any chance they could." Carrie said, her cheeks flaming at the way he watched her, making her collar hot and her cheeks red, "Why didn't you just ask Paulina? Or Bessie?" Dougie sent her a look and crossed his arms.

"There's a reason I'm asking you and not them, sweetheart." he said and she felt her face dip darker in color, to which she picked up her toast and took an angry bite out of it, trying to ignore that look on his face, to which she was almost enjoying. Knowing he was getting under her skin, and she was liking it. She swallowed her toast and then looked at him, schooling her features evenly.

"Enlighten me. What are you trying to say?" Carrie said, staring at him with a cool expression. A bold question to pose, in her opinion. Like bait for a fish. He watched her and licked his lips, suddenly under the spotlight and met her gaze again, fully.

"I want to dance." Dougie said, a nod, like convincing himself this was right, "With you." Carrie's eyes moved to his quickly. He stared right back at her, holding her gaze tensely as she reached for her coffee cup.

There was something in his gaze that was different than before there. A longing, a want, an eagerness - something that made her stomach feel funny and her toes tingle.

Why, she wondered in her mind. There were a bunch of other wonderful ladies he could dance with that he would have a far better time both dancing and conversing with - people that were pleasant and friendly and happy. People that weren't like her. She looked to him again and watched as he leaned forward and shook his head.

"Listen, Bergie, I'm sorry," he said quickly, waving his hands in front of himself, "it was too forward, I get it. You got a lot of shit going on back home, you don't want-"

"No." Carrie said, stopping him mid-sentence, his eyes flashing to hers as she sat there, cheeks turning red again as she tried to stop it. She shook her head and balled up her fists and fixed her shoulders.

"It's not that." she managed out in a stammering pace, shaking her head. The two watched each other - him, waiting on her to open her mouth, and her, waiting for her mind to connect with her mouth to speak. But it didn't happen.

"What's going on, Bergie?" Dougie asked quietly, noticing as she looked at him, trying to gather what thoughts were left in her mind.

All she could think of was the casualty list - the way it grew, larger and larger. The amount of planes that had gone up and never come down. The amount of men they'd lost, the people that were gone never to return. The families that would never get their sons and daughters back.

"James." she said quickly, and he looked at her in earnest, "I….." He stared at her, the most serious she'd ever seen a look appear on his face.

"This is…." she couldn't get her words right, the puddle of her mind overwhelming. She couldn't look at him and speak what she actually wanted to say. It was too real. All of these. These feelings, what was going on around them. This war.

"Did something happen?" he asked quickly, "Listen, I just joke with you, no hard feelings, just-"

"I'll dance with you." she said quickly, "Tonight. Just-" she stood quickly with her half-finished cup of coffee, looking down at her pants rather than him, "-just….I'll see you there." She took her plate and then spun away, moving around the edge of the table, her eyes on the door.

"Wait, wait, Bergie-" Dougie said, jumping to his feet, and lightly placing a hand on her elbow. She turned to look up at him, catching him in the haze of late morning light and watched as his eyes softened, only seen by her, his eyes lingering on parts of her face she hated to show a soul, his body heat penetrating her own with how close he seemed to be.

"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly, dropping his voice, "I mean, you don't have to dance with me. I just…..we never have and I figured I owed ya-"

"I'm fine." she managed quickly, "No, we'll….we'll dance. It's fine. I'm fine." She offered a smile his way and he watched her, regarding her face quietly.

"I didn't ask you because there's another girl or to have a laugh, none of that, that's a shit thing to do, alright?" he said quietly, "I asked you because I want to dance with you. You, Bergie." She stared at him, her eyes flicking back and forth, over and over. The longer she stared at him, the more her heart began to race and the blood rushed to her cheeks.

"What I'm trying to say is that you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, and I finally have the opportunity to dance. With you." Dougie said quickly, his ears and upper cheeks turning red, even though he seemed to try to hide it. Between both their faces and the redness of their cheeks, it was quite a sight for any onlooker or eavesdropper. She stared at him.

"I almost did. Back in Greenland. You definitely didn't want anything to do with me, but I almost did it." he said, a nervous smile on his face, "Figured you were pissed with me. So I didn't. As usual." She continued to watch him - him, rambling, her, staring. After a few moments of silence that lingered between them, she blinked.

"I'm always pissed with you." she said, but she said it in a way that was both factual and sarcastic and got a smile going on Dougie's face.

"Well, I know that," he said, "figured you wouldn't want to dance with the guy you're pissed off at. I don't know, as I go to twirl you, you'd probably try to push me into a wall or something."

Carrie stared at him - she'd let him twirl her into his chest and more, hold her close to his chest, in his broad, warm arms, tell her it was okay, that this was okay, that this was allowed, that she could feel this. She stared at him, her heart racing. And he stared back, that deep look in his eye that was enough to make her lose it.

"Keep looking at me like that and you'll get more than you bargained for." she whispered softly and then offered him a small, smirking grin, and walked away, her cheeks and ears burning.

If she looked back, she'd get that look that she knew was on his face, forever implanted in her mind and she couldn't have that yet. Not now.

As she placed away the plate and took one last sip of her coffee, she moved towards the door with her arms crossed and glanced over her shoulder just as she stepped out and looked to where Dougie was, stood still, hands in his pockets, watching her like something holy had just appeared right in front of him. She winked.

#masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #carrie achterberg #james douglass #carrie x dougie #james douglass x oc #DOUGIEEE!!!! #these two were fun to write i wont lie hehe #and i have so many more ideas for them too so !!!!! :) #dougie was fun to write too lmfao hes chaotic and its fun LOL #THEM !!!! #also carrie in her feels and she tries to hide it but with dougie she lets it down a bit now - i will go and sob #also: charlotte tarvers mention !!!! #ENJOY!!!!!

[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.”

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fic #mota fic #Honeysuckle Rose #Olive Lewis #benny demarco #james douglass #Valencia DiRosano #everett blakely #time travel #1944 #thorpe abbotts #ww2 #wwii #benny demarco x oc #james douglass x oc #everett blakely x oc #oc: valencia dirosano #oc: olive lewis #🫒 #winnie writes

[ginabaker1666]

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.”

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

#masters of the air #eight to the bar: Blakely & Val #mota fanfic #everett blakely x ofc #everett blakely #oc: valencia dirosano #everett blakely fic #oc: olive lewis #benny demarco #james douglass #just a snappin #hbo war #gina baker writes

[trashbag-baby666]

The Birthday Party-Rosie/Benny

Summary: It’s Cordelias birthday party and Rosie promised he’d bring his new boyfriend…who happens to be friends with everyone already and a certain firefighter.

WC: 3,080

C/W: None

MOTA Masterlist!

Rosie felt a nauseating wave of anxiety run cold over his body standing outside of the Cleven house. It certainly felt like he was about to perform open heart surgery instead of going to his niece's birthday party.

“Everything alright?” Benny came around the other side of the car, Meatballs leather leash wrapped around his hand.

“Yeah,” Rosie cleared his throat pushing down the dreading pit in his stomach. He couldn’t map why he was so nervous about it, this is quite literally his family. He felt the newly familiar feeling of Benny's hand wrapping around his delivering a small squeeze. He tapped his thumb against his hand, repeating the cranial bones to himself. Fluffy puppies on every third street. Frontal, parietal, occipital, ethmoid, temporal, sphenoid. The little acronym, his own way of fighting off the rushing anxiety.

“Let's do this thing?”

“Great mantra, let's do this thing.”

Rosie opened the backgate repeating the cranial bones to himself over and over again.

“Happy birthday, sweety.” Rosie hugged Cordelia, handing her the wrapped box.

“Thanks, so you…and?” Cordelia glanced over at Benny.

“Yeah,” Rosie bowed his head, a smile falling onto his face. He wasn’t sure if this was a blow to his ego or not. Talking to his 13 year old niece about the new guy he’s been seeing that he really likes.

“Don’t worry your secret's safe with me.” Cordelia snickered, she knew just as well as everyone else. That her papa was the biggest gossiper around.

“We’re uh, what do you kids call it? Soft launching? Our relationship today?”

“Okay, okay. But for my own entertainment we should keep playing along at least just for pa. It’s funny when he starts playing spy and tries to recruit Flynn and I.”

“Well we’ve got ourselves a deal then.” Rosie stuck out his hand for the blonde. May his favorite pastimes always be causing some sort of trouble with his nieces.

“So you did bring your new date with you.” Gale chuckled dryly pulling the chair out next to him for Rosie.

“And how do you know?”

“I saw you and Benny come through the gate holding hands.”

“You sneaky little witch,”

“Can’t believe I found out before John, he’s gonna lose it.”

“Delia made me take an oath to keep playing along so she could watch Bucky play Inspector gadget with Flynn. Where is he anyways?” Rosie looked around now noticing the absence of the loudest one at the party.

“Oh he forgot to pick up hamburger buns, so he’s doing that now. But can I ask? How did you and Benny get together?”

Rosie sat back in the metal chair crossing one leg over the other thinking back to the day.

Rarely did Rosie ever go for a beer, but today was different. He sat at the bar, a glass of lukewarm beer half-empty in his right hand. His eyes gazed at a sign on the tavern wall, the mounted elk next to the sign staring back as if judging him.

“Hey, Rosie? Do you mind if I sit here?” Benny’s voice broke through his thoughts.

There Benny stood, still in his work uniform, a brown leather jacket over his dark blue shirt, the sleeves highlighting his arms. Meatballs leather leash wrapped around his hand, the husky sitting at his feet panting happily at the sight of him.

“Oh, yeah, go ahead!” Rosie motioned to the seat next to him, suddenly feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity. Benny was more than just a familiar face—he was a reminder of a harrowing day at the hospital.

“Rough shift?” Benny asked, noticing the weariness in Rosie’s eyes.

“Something like that.” Rosie took another drink, tapping the cranial bones on the bar, repeating them silently in his head to fight the rising tide of anxiety. Memories of the CPR rounds on that dreadful call filled his mind—the young boy's wailing as Rosie tried everything to resuscitate the boy's mother.

“Let me buy you a drink,” Benny offered, breaking Rosie’s spiral of thoughts. “It’s the least I can do.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure, Robert.” Benny clapped him on the shoulder playfully, a gesture that felt strangely comforting.

Before Rosie knew it, he was tipsy for the first time in a long time. They stumbled into Benny’s apartment, laughing as he fumbled with the keys. The night was a blur of conversation and connection, laying the foundation for something unexpected and wonderful.

“Well, I was out at Lasso Love and so was he, so we had a drink together.” Rosie shrugged, he could get into the details later if he really wanted them.

“Nice, Bennys a good guy, I’ll give him the stamp of approval.”

“What’re you, my Ma?”

“Maybe. But I am a dad so I know a thing or two.”

Rosie rolled his eyes, this isn’t the first time Gales pulled his mom card on him.

“But you know what that makes us now, Rosenthal?”

“What, Cleven?”

“Firehouse wives.”

“We haven’t even dtf’d yet.” Rosie ran his fingers over his mustache, he only knew what that meant because of Cordelia.

“Define your relationship?…I’m hoping and assuming.”

“Yes, define the relationship! What else would I mean? Oh.” It clicked for him, Gale side eyeing him taking a long drink of his diet coke.

“Want a drink?”

“Sure,” Rosie pushed himself up from the deck chair following Gale inside.

Benny sat on the deck steps keeping a close eye on Meatball as him and Scooby chased after each other. Sometimes Meatball got a little too rough or he’d go sticking his nose in Chilis business.

Usually, he’d go and bother John at the grill but he couldn’t seem to find him. He wasn’t exactly great at social situations, even if he was surrounded by his firehouse family and all the kids running around.

“You pussy out of bringing your date, Demarco?” He looked back as Curt bounced down the stairs with a beer in his hand. He plopped down next to him and popped the tab open.

“No, I most certainly didn’t. But he’s talking to Buck,” Benny flicked his eyes over to where Rosie sat with that big wide smile. Oh, he loved that smile and positive energy that basically radiated off of him.

“Where?”

“What do you mean?” Benny looked back at the shorter man letting that little smirk settle on his face.

“Well, I only see…you lucky bastard!” Curt whacked his shoulder shaking his head, “Youse fuckin’ son of a gun! You bagged the hunk of the Cheyanne OR?”

“Hush, Biddick, we’re just having fun.” Benny snatched the can of Bud Light out of Curt’s hand and took a few drinks.

“So it’s only hookups?”

“No!”

“Well, isn’t that what having fun means?”

“This is not the same as you banging the new EMT until he agreed to move in with you.” Benny handed the beer back, what did he want out of this? Would marriage be something Rosie wanted? Was it something he himself even wanted? Would he have to convert to Judaism if they did get married? Maybe he would have to ask Rosie if he could speak to a rabbi?

“See, Benny, us moving in together has made carpooling after sex to work and home easier. Then there's no ‘well I gotta go back to my apartment,’ bullshit. It’s like drug dealing: you cut out the middle man.” Benny rolled his eyes listening to Curts tangent about how public transport here sucks compared to New York and the comparing and contrasting of drug dealing and his and Ken's relationship.

“Back to what I'm getting at, I’m glad you’re having a good time. Even if it doesn’t involve sex.”

“Who said I’m not having sex?” He pointed to himself and smirked, feeling like some 14 year old boy who just scored his first blow job.

“C’mere, just between me and you?” Curt scooted closer their thighs touching, “Does he fuck?”

“What the hell, Curt?” he shoved the other man's shoulder, “I don’t think I wanna disclose that at our nieces birthday party.”

“Fair enough, but you better fuckin’ tell me next shift.”

“Uncle Curt!” Flynn called from somewhere.

“Duty calls,” Curt sighed, putting his hands on his knees and standing up, “But you promise you’re gonna tell me at work?”

“Shut up, Biddick.” Benny whacked his leg with Meatballs leash. Sending the other jogging towards Flynn.

Back inside, Gale had handed Rosie a can of LaCroix from the fridge when John came bursting through the door. “Is it really that fuckin’ impossible to get hamburger buns.” he grumbled to whom Rosie and Gale presumed was himself.

“What’s up, babe?” Gale noticed that John returned with just a box of Twinkies and no hamburger buns and Rosie instantly knew he maybe should dismiss himself outside before the two started bickering.

“There’s no hamburger buns, Buck! Stupid work picnic literally bought them out everywhere. But I’m gonna go stress eat a twinkie in the bathroom before facing Delia.” John pointed his thumb over his shoulder to the bathroom.

“Wait, wait, John, what if I run over to the Jewish bakery and see if they have anything?” Rosie butted in, maybe just as a supplement to his own anxiety.

“Are you sure? Isn’t that almost on the other side of the city?” He watched John’s shoulders relax and his hand begin to reach for his wallet in his back pocket.

“Yeah, yeah, for sure.” Rosie nodded as he reached his hand into his pocket for his keys but then remembered Benny had them clipped to Meatball's leash.

“Oh, uhm, Benny has my keys, give me just one second.”

“It’s alright, I’ll drive. It’s John's turn to play party supervisor.” Gale swooped in noticing the raised eyebrows on John's face wanting to say something about Benny having his keys. “Better get out there, Flynn and Curt are poking at the pinata.” Gale lightly propelled John towards the door. Grabbing Rosie by his wrist and practically yanking him out of the house.

“Slow down, Doctor.” He jogged to keep up with Gales' fast strides to the driveway.

“Well did you wanna play 40 questions with John about you and Benny?” Gale swung his keys around his finger unlocking the tan, chevy equinox.

“Why do you have Rosies keys?” John came up right behind Benny on the deck nearly scaring the ever living shit out of him.

“Bucky, jesus.” Benny jumped a bit, turning to look at him. His stupid smile wide across his face made it apparent he thought he was so funny, “But I’m just holding his keys, he gave me a ride it's the least I could do.”

“He gave you a ride here?” John furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah, we live by each other.” Benny shrugged nonchalantly hoping that John would just shut his mouth about it.

“No you don’t.”

“Where are the hamburger buns?” Benny motioned to his hand with the twinkie box in it.

“Dammit I gotta go put this inside before Curt and Flynn see. You’re in charge.” All the firehouse guys knew how to get John's thoughts off something. Usually they only did that when they would have a rather traumatic call and John would get his brain stuck on what he could’ve done differently. But this time it would just have to be for Rosies sake.

As Rosie tapped his fingers against the car door Frontal, parietal, occipital, ethmoid, temporal, sphenoid. Following each repetition with a deep breath. Gale's voice cut through the tension like a gentle breeze. "Rosie, take a deep breath."

His mind still whirling with worries, Rosie paused, his fingers momentarily stilling. He looked over at Gale, finding comfort in the steadiness of his friend's gaze. "Are you upset about something else that isn’t hamburger buns?" Gale's question was perceptive, hitting the mark with surprising accuracy.

Rosie sighed, feeling the weight of his anxiety pressing down on him. "Are you gonna lecture me?" he asked, half-expecting a scolding for letting his nerves spiral out of control.

Gale's expression softened, understanding glinting in his eyes. "Well, I am going to tell you that you and Benny holding hands or just mentioning you’re dating won’t ruin the party," Gale reassured him, his voice calm and reassuring. "You already told Delia, and she's the biggest critic there."

Rosie couldn't help but crack a small smile at Gale's words, a wave of relief washing over him. Despite his initial worries, he knew deep down that Gale was right.

"Yeah," Rosie admitted, a sense of gratitude flooding through him. Unfortunately, Gale was right. He was just letting his anxiety get the best of him.

Gale nodded, his expression understanding. "It's okay, Rosie. We all have those moments," he said reassuringly, reaching out to squeeze Rosie's shoulder in a gesture of support.

Feeling a weight lift off his shoulders, Rosie took another deep breath, letting Gale's words sink in. He reached into his pocket grabbing out his phone to send Benny a text.

Rosie: I think we should just mention it when I get back.

Benny: I agree, if I have to listen to John interview me like I'm under FBI investigation, I’m gonna make Meatball bite him.

Rosie: Gale manhandled me out of the house when John started his questions…

They returned back to the party with hamburger buns indeed. John clapped for them as he snatched them away to toast them up on the grill.

Rosie sat down next to Benny at the table, “Am I your knight in shining armor, now?”

“More like my knight in khaki shorts and a polo.” Benny snickered, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek. Ken’s eyes going wide across the table, he immediately grabbed onto Curt’s arm.

“Oh, yeah. They made me promise not to tell anyone.” Curt snickered, putting the arm around Ken.

“Kept your big mouth shut.” Benny flicked his gum wrapper at him.

“I’m not the one with the big mouth around here!” Curt pointed behind them at John, “Captain big mouth over there…”

“Oh, Captain big mouth now?” Gale laughed sitting down on the other side of Rosie. He felt a wave of comfort wash over him, feeling Bennys hand massaging his shoulder.

“Flynn,” John called to their youngest as she came running past the deck. The brown haired girl stopped to look at him and he nodded her over.

Flynn came bouncing up the deck, Chili in her arms, he only allowed her to carry him up the steps.

“Yes, papa?” She smiled sweetly at him, John crouching down to her height.

“Did Uncle Rosie introduce you to his new boyfriend?” John was going to do whatever he could to crack the code. Because he now had the growing suspicion that Rosie and Benny have been seeing each other. That and Gale knew something and wasn’t telling him.

“I was told not to tell, uncle Ro gave me five bucks to not tell.” Flynn pointed back to where the two sat at the table. John let out a sigh reaching for his wallet hoping he had at least a ten on him so he didn’t have to hand over a 20.

“For ten will you tell me?” John plucked out the bill between his fingers. He watched her eyes get a little wide thinking about all the ice cream she could get. She hesitated a moment looking down at Chili, maybe for his opinion. She then ran off across the backyard over to Rosie. John sighed, shaking his head, giving up on it for the moment.

“Happy birthday, dear Cordelia! Happy birthday to you!” they all sang as the blonde held her long hair back and blew out her candles.

“You have two boyfriends!” Flynn pointed at the two lit candles.

“Who taught you that?” John furrowed his eyebrows looking down at her in his lap, “You better not, though Delia.”

“Don’t worry, papa.” She laughed, pulling the birthday candles from the cake and letting Flynn lick the frosting off of them.

“Speaking of boyfriends,” Rosie cleared his throat. Pretty much everyone except for John, then Ham and Dougie because of a call, knew already, “Me and Benny just wanted to say that we’ve been seeing each other.”

Everyone smiled and congratulated them, John's eyebrows furrowed, staring at them a little dumbfounded on how he didn’t figure it out.

“Don’t think too hard about it, John.” Gale kissed his cheek fist bumping Flynn.

“Oh were you in on this too?”

“Cordelia asked us to,” Gale glanced over to her where she was cutting the cake, “Said she thinks it's funny when we leave you guessing.”

“My whole family is plotting against me,” John shook his head jokingly and tickled Flynns sides, “You’re gonna have to buy me ice cream with your bribe money.”

“I told you everything would go just fine,” Benny held open the door to his apartment for Rosie.

“I know, I know. But I was just worried that it would clash weirdly for everyone.” Rosie set the container of leftover cake on the counter and let out an exhausted sigh.

“What would we do if Buck didn’t approve?” Benny snickered, feeling up Rosies biceps to his shoulders, leaning his head on the tallers shoulder. Somehow everyone simultaneously decided that Gale and John were the unofficial mom and dad of the group.

“Gale actually told me he gives you the stamp of approval.”

“Oh does he now? I’d almost expect it.” Benny wrapped his hands around Rosie’s waist and began to fidget with his belt.

“Yeah, looks like you’ll have to try really hard to get rid of me now.” Rosie’s lips pulled into a smile and he ran his fingers over his mustache, “What’cha doin’ Benny?” Rosie leaned his head back into Bennys shoulder letting him take off his belt.

“Trying really hard to get into your pants.” Benny kissed up the side of his neck then biting at his earlobe, “Gotta feed Meatball then I’ll meet you in the bedroom?” Benny slapped his ass and took a handful of it.

“Alright, baby.” He turned his head pressing his lips into Bennys for a long kiss. Then Meatball let out a bark standing by his empty dog food bowl. Benny sighed and pulled away leaving a lingering hand on his waist.

“Okay, okay, boy.” Benny picked up Meatballs dish, Rosie watched with a smile. He really had struck gold that day at the bar.

-

-

Taglist: @coastiewife465 @austeenbootler @storysimp @executethyself35 @slowsweetlove

#mota firehouse au #masters of the air #mota #rosie rosenthal #bernard demarco #john egan #bucky egan #gale cleven #buck cleven #clegan #curtis biddick #ken lemmons #curt x ken #hambone hamilton #james douglass #meatball mota #cordelia cleven (oc) #flynn cleven (oc) #theo writes #trashbag baby666 fics

[lauwrite1225]

There’s something in your eyes. || Alexander Stewart x OC

PART 1.

For the sake of Scotland, Eileen Douglas is to marry the young Alexander Stewart, a marriage none of them wanted.

Eileen was standing perfectly right on the stairs of Bothwell Castle. Her mother snapped her hand when she tried to pull the skirt of her dress, trying to make herself more comfortable in her tight corset. 

“Don’t fuss.” Her mother glared at her and Eileen had to do her best to not roll her eyes. 

Instead she kept staring at the horizon where horsemen were approaching. She could count ten, all wearing the Stewart tartan. The closer they were, the more she could notice her brother William’s face twist with disgust. The small group passed the gates and her father walked down the stairs quickly to welcome them. A first man climbed down from his horse graciously. He had a huge smile on his face as he saluted her father, but it seemed to repulse William even more as he mumbled curses in Gaelic. The two men walked toward them and Eileen felt her mother’s hand in her back, prompting her to climb down the stairs. When she found herself face to face with Stewart she offered him her most beautiful smile, one her mother could be proud of after teaching her how to look pleased even when she wasn’t. But she hadn’t to fake it that much, the man in front of her actually seeming sympathetic. 

She grabbed the skirt of her dress and lightly curtseyed. “Duke.”

“Lady Eileen. It is a pleasure to finally meet you.” He smiled. 

“The pleasure is shared.” And she could easily imagine the thunder in her brother’s eyes as she spoke.

A Douglas having to meet a Stewart was never for pleasure. Both clans hated each other for generations and even more since the Douglas decided to betray King James IV. Eileen was just a bairn when her uncle planned his alliance with the English King, but somehow, she became the symbol of the peace between the two clans. As well for the man she would marry. It was King James’ decision that she would marry his cousin, the Duke of Albany’s younger brother, and as she detailed the young Duke’s expression, she thought maybe the Stewarts weren’t the turds William liked to call them. 

“Let me introduce you to my brother, Alexander.” The Duke stepped aside and with a wave of his hand designated a young man still holding his horse’s reins. 

The younger Stewart was tall, his tartan making his shoulders even larger. With a nonchalant pace he joined them. He stopped next to his brother and Eileen and they silently judged each other. His brown eyes were similar to two endless holes so gloomy were they. His hair was as dark and seemed unruleble while a thin and uncertain beard started to cover his jaws and cheeks. 

"Lady Eileen." He muttered, saying her name seemed to be a great effort for him. 

This time, her smile couldn't be faker. "Lord Stewart." She replied, pronouncing each syllable as she was spitting to his face. 

Their interaction didn't last longer, her father inviting them to enter the castle to eat. The meal was rather calm, John Stewart being almost the only one speaking. He seemed pretty comfortable and even happy to be here, as if he wasn’t at the same table as former traitors. William liked to claim that what their uncle did was for the good of Scotland, that Stewarts were just a lineage of bastards, but Eileen knew they were the one who betrayed a King. And no matter how much William would insult the Stewarts, Douglass were the traitors. 

If that fact didn’t prevent John from enjoying the lunch, she couldn’t tell the same of her betrothed. Alexander was silent, stabbing his food as a pouting child. She found it amusing, and could have even found it  endearing if he wasn’t sending murderous glares at William. However, her brother wasn’t innocent , his piercing blue eyes giving back the threat gladly. 

At some point, her father cleared his throat and stood up. All eyes were on him as he raised his cup. “To my daughter and her future husband.” He declared turning toward Eileen and then Alexander who had made the effort to look less unhappy, if it was even truly possible. “And may this alliance be a new beginning for our two clans.”

John stood up as well and clinked his glass with her father’s. “To a new beginning.”

…

“You are a surprisingly good company.” Eileen smiled as she walked in the garden beside Alexander. He looked down at her dubiously. “What? I like the silence.” She smirked. 

He huffed and continued to walk. It was the second day the Stewarts were spending in Bothwell Castle and her mother had asked her to try to sympathize with the young man. But she found it hard to be nice with a man who wasn’t even talking to her. 

"You know, we are going to be married for what is going to be a long time. Maybe we should try to at least know each other." She proposed, doing her best to not sound rude. 

"I didn't want to marry." He grumbled, his foot kicking in a stone. 

"See ? We have at least one common point." She smirked again.

Alexander suddenly stopped in front of her, leaning slightly over her, and she realized how taller he was compared to her. She pinched her lips, her eyes not leaving his despite how threatening they were. 

"Don't you think because you're a bonny lass I'll forget you're a fucking Douglas whore." 

He had barely finished his sentence, Eileen slapped his face hard. He didn't expect that, his hand rubbing his already red cheek. "I'm not a whore and do not ever call me like that or I'll cut off your balls." She warned him with a roar of her voice and she found herself satisfied at how he looked at her with wide eyes. 

On these words, she exaggeratedly curtseyed before leaving him on his own. She felt her chest rise and fall ragingly, anger overwhelming her. As she walked in another part of the garden, she started to hate the whole world. She hated her uncle for starting this stupid rebellion. She hated King James for having decided to marry her to Alexander. She hated her father for having accepted it obediently. But most of all : she hated Alexander for being a prick turd.

Angry tears started to irritate her eyes and she wiped them away with her palms. She wanted to join her bedroom and cursed her all existence, but God seemed to have decided otherwise. Shouts from where she was coming from caught her attention and she started to walk back. If it was possible for her to be even more in fury, well now it was. William and Alexander were now fighting in the grass like two kids. 

From the corner of her eyes, she perceived John running in their direction to separate them. The older Stewart grabbed his brother by the back of his tunic, forcing him to get up and free William. 

"Can I have an explanation?" He asked his brother who was now dusting his tartan. 

"He got slapped by a lass." William replied mockingly and it took all John's strength to prevent his brother from coming upon his opponent again. 

"That's enough!" The Duke barked before dragging Alexander away. 

Once they were gone, Eileen walked to her brother who was still sitting on the floor. He grinned at her, and she noticed he must have bitten his cheek or tongue in the fight because there was blood on his teeth. 

"I don't know why you slapped him, Sister, but that's what all those bastard Stewarts deserve." 

Eileen crouched in front of him, still silent before slapping him as well. William whined, his cheeks already hurting from the fight. He looked at her confusedly and she stood up. "You're as much an idiot than him."

…

Dinner was again very silent, but this time both Alexander and William kept their eyes away from each other. John as well was different, his smile more tended. Eileen wondered if her father had a word of what happened in the garden, she doubted William told him, he would have been furious and maybe he would have had another mark on his face. But she also doubted he didn't notice anything. William had his right eye swollen and his bottom lip cut while Alexander's cheek was almost violet of her slap and probably her brother's punch. Oh none of them looked proud of the incident.

After the dinner, a knock on the door interrupted the servant who had barely started untying the back of her dress. Eileen turned her head to Maggie and kindly asked her to see who it was. She tightened the loosened laces and finally walked to open the door slightly. 

"Lord Stewart." 

From where she stood in her bedroom, Eileen could distinguish Alexander's silhouette through the door's opening, he wasn't wearing his tartan. 

"I'd like to talk to Lady Eileen." He declared. His voice was still strong but she could hear the uncertainty in it, and it made her smile.

Maggie turned around to have some sort of answer from her mistress. Eileen waved her hand and walked toward the door. "You can leave us, Maggie. Thank you."

The young servant nodded and left them after saying she would come back later. Once she had disappeared in a corridor, she crossed her arms and stared with contempt at the once more silent Alexander. 

"What do you want?" 

"To say that I'm sorry." He grumbled and she almost wanted to laugh at how pathetic he looked. 

"Is it you who is sorry, or your brother who asked you to be ?" She asked with an annoyed raised eyebrow. 

Alexander frowned. "Does it matter ?"

Eileen tilted her head, closing her eyes in exasperation. "Yes, it does." 

He rolled his eyes and after rubbing the back of his neck, he finally spoke. "It's me. I'm sorry for calling you a whore." 

"You are pardoned." She said, thinking that making peace with him could only be a benefit. "And you said I was bonny after all." She smirked and suddenly his face turned red of uncomfort. 

And for once, he didn't look as unpleasant as usual. His eyebrows weren't furrowed and his features were rid of any tension, making him look younger. She came to the conclusion that he wasn't that bad looking with his still fascinating brown eyes. She stepped back to go back in her bedroom, but before she closed her door, she paused and with an amused smile she added :

"I am sure you have a pretty smile, Alexander."

#alexander stewart #alexander stewart x oc #the spanish princess #fanfiction #mark rowley

[wexhappyxfew]

Hi! I love your Silver Bullets girls, and Carrie x Douglass has a special place in my heart (even more since your last writing with them). So, for them I'd like to ask 35. (kissing their bruises and scars) from the Touch prompt list or 5. (the last thing they're thinking about before falling asleep is always the other) from the Subtle love list. 💗

HI FRIEND!!!! thank you so much for sending this and i am so so glad carrie and dougie have meant a lot, alongside the Silver Bullets girls (it seriously means SO MUCH and i always say it but its true!!!) THANK YOU FOR THE OPTIONS TOO!!!! i couldn't help myself and went with the second prompt (5) and decided to focus on some of their earlier meetings with one another and how they've developed into the people today. let's just say, i had a lot of fun! thank you SO MUCH!!!!! :D this was so much fun! <3 (and sorry for the wait for this....the semester was its usual chaos haha!)

greenland

(a/n): safe to say, for my carrie x dougie enjoyers, this was FUN to write. we get a bit into life before the annie bradshaw era of silver bullets! WITH captain birdie faulkner. BUT, because i am a sucker for someone who haunts the narrative and is simply talked about, we don't actually meet birdie here, just hear about her as a leader and all (a running theme!). we also get a bit into the storyline of what dougie means when he said he wanted to ask carrie to 'dance in greenland in THIS PIECE. and also carrie's dislike for greenland lmfao. please enjoy!!! <3

Greenland was anything but green, it seemed.

Maybe that's why the Vikings called it that - to freak the living fuck out of any sort of enemy that was bound to come this way and make them mistake what was actually a stupid ice block for well - 'green land'.

The landing had been less that superb and Captain Faulkner had dismissed them all to the bar to the left of the tarmac for the rest of the evening off.

Birdie Faulkner was everything, including a realist, and she seemed to understand that the rather harrowing conditions of their landing was something that required at least a drink or two before bedding down for the night.

With a half-finished beer, Carrie was sure that she could've fallen asleep in that very chair for the time being, but she had to present herself a best she could. With the newest B-17 group collected, Silver Bullets was formulated and crafted by that oh-so-brilliant mind of Birdie Faulkner, and they all had her to thank. And Carrie had to look a bit more put-together than usual - prove she's not just a wash-out bombardier with lackluster experience. That she deserved the spot in Silver Bullets more than anyone else.

"So?" a voice came from her right, settling into the other plush, leather seat at her side, the smiling face of Bessie Carlisle appearing as she popped open her own beer bottle, "Greenland, huh?" Carrie smirked and rolled her shoulders and glanced around.

"It's cozy, really," Carrie offered, "I'm considering taking a swim in the river, suntanning-"

"Okay, smart ass," Bessie said with a chuckle, her boot nudging her own foot, "can't say I'm complaining. Finally out of those training cycles, working towards the war. Maybe, we'll actually put ourselves to use instead of waiting just to go on a practice run." Carrie watched Bessie and then smiled widely.

"Love it so much that I may tell my future husband that 'Hey, we're moving to Greenland!', pack up the truck, babe, forget Brooklyn, home is where the grass is a solid as a fucking rock," Carrie said, sipping her beer, "not to mention the weather. I love to freeze."

"Someone's happy." a new voice chimed in, as Francis settled into a chair opposite them, sucking down a portion of her beer and grinning, "I've never seen you so enthusiastic about something." Carrie deadpanned.

"I'm really jumping for joy over here, Monty." Carrie told Francis, raising her glass of beer up in mock ceremony, "You know me so well." Francis and Bessie burst out into laughter as Carrie leaned back in her chair with a sigh and looked towards the ceiling.

"When the hell are we going to England?" Carrie asked, counting the flecks of rotting wood in the wooden ceiling, her eyes tracing the pieces that stuck out of the ceiling panels before losing her spot and recounting, "If I could just get another beer started, I'd be ready by tonight to head out. No pit-stops for me, I'm just fine with a beer stop and then jetting off to England and calling it a day."

"I wish I had the same energy towards that, Bergie, I really do," Bessie said, "afraid to say I'd ask for a few hours of sleep thought over that."

"Sleeps overrated half the time!" Carrie admonished still staring up at the ceiling, "How you gonna get a thing done when sleep's-"

"Exactly what you need." Carrie blinked a few times and into focus above her head came James Douglass - fellow bombardier, with whom Bessie had introduced on one of Carrie's first days after her transfer on base.

Carrie remembered first time seeing him coming towards them, with that carpet on his face he called a mustache, a sharp smirk, a rather loud, somewhat obnoxious voice, a quick hand-shaking, before he was wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pointing out to various areas along the base like they'd been friends for years - something that had caught her completely off guard. And ever since then, with their few chance meetings, they'd been nothing but a trifle of teasing jabs and somewhat good-natured fun.

Key word: somewhat.

Because she could never actually read James Douglass unlike Benny DeMarco or Hambone Hamilton who were just about as sweet to her as her grandma's hotcakes. He'd see her and beeline, make a few jokes, flirt shamelessly, and then go dance with the next girl who'd take his hand. He was quite the character and Carrie usually didn't engage in much conversation past when he'd come to seek her out.

Except now, he was hung above her like a hyperactive golden retriever, like the dog, Kering, that had lived down the street from the Achterberg's in Brooklyn all her life. Running out of the Wilkes house anytime the door opened, barking and sniffing and tearing around the neighborhood like a lunatic. Yeah, Kering the golden retriever who looked like he was a lunatic reminded her exactly of James Douglass.

Nice to know home was never far.

"What are you trying to say, huh?" Carrie asked, still slouching in the chair and staring up at him hovering over her. Douglass grinned at her, showing off his pearly whites and that charming look on his face and he let out a chuckle.

"You know, a little sleep never hurt a soul. Only reason we're even alive," Douglass said, reaching forward to rub her shoulder, "makes the brain happy or some shit. Makes people less….cranky."

"You calling me cranky, now?"

"Cranky. Now that's just one of many words-"

"Oh, you little-"

"Alright!" Bessie said standing and shoving Douglass pack from where he currently was occupying Carrie's headspace, "Nice to know some things never change." Carrie glanced at her as she sat up and Bessie raised a brow with a smirk.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Douglass said from behind Carrie, before he moved around her chair and took the other open seat in the grouping of four, and kicking back to relax. Carrie watched Bessie before looking at Francis, who was rather interested in her cup of beer, before glancing at Douglass, who was already looking at her.

"What?" she murmured, before he made a face and she rolled her eyes.

"How was the flight over, Douglass? Invigorating?" Bessie asked Douglass, with a smile - leave it to Bessie to be sweet as cream on any given occasion.

"You woulda thought Greenland would be, well, fucking green-"

"That's what I said!" Carrie butted in, getting looks from the other three, before settling on Douglass who was watching her, with a mixture of interest and annoyance, but she couldn't seem to decipher the two and sank back in her chair, "Greenland's cold as fuck, not some East Coast paradise I'll give ya that." She heard Douglass chuckle at that as Carrie took in more sips of beer.

"With the way we were flying in, I wasn't even sure we were gonna make it at first, I'll tell you that," Douglass said, "you sit in that nose and you swear to God that you'll smash right into the tarmac. Good ole Ev Blakely don't let that sorta stuff happen though."

"Yeah, a real crap shoot." Carrie muttered, "Thought Birdie was gonna bring us in sideways." Douglass raised a brow as he sipped his beer.

"Guess you can say they lied about the fucking weather, too," Douglass offered, "really nice place here. Could barely move my fingers and toes when I actually stood up fully." Bessie let out a chuckle and started sipping her beer again as Carrie narrowed her eyes at her.

"Hey, they're putting on some music to dance, y'all wanna come?" Judy Rybinski's joyfully said as she appeared behind Francis, "C'mon Bessie, I know that look anywhere, you wanna!"

"You know me too well, Jude," Bessie said, getting to her feet and finishing off her beer.

"I'm coming with! No shot I'm missing a chance at good music and good company." Francis said getting to her feet, "The company part may be a stretch-"

"Oh c'mon!" Judy said, taking Francis' hand before looking at Carrie and Douglass unmoved in their chairs, "You two coming?"

"I'm going to continue working on these beers, Jude, but I appreciate it," Carrie said, "Greenland's officially fucked me up." Judy let out a chuckle.

"You enjoy that then, Bergie," Judy said before looking at Douglass, "Dougie?" Carrie glanced sideways at Douglass who sat quietly, before glancing over at Carrie and then Judy again.

"Maybe next time," he said with a nod, "I promise you a dance, got it?"

"Sounds good! Don't have too much fun!" Judy called before she disappeared and some Artie Shaw began playing over the speakers.

"Good to know we have one thing in common, Bergie." Carrie slowly looked over at Douglass, that annoying nickname rolling off his lips like it had before, "We both hate Greenland." And he grinned at her and couldn't help but smirk back.

"First off, don't call me that. Second, you might be right about that," Carrie said, sipping her beer again, "you know that it's called Greenland because of the Vikings?" Douglass let out a chuckle and shook his head.

"Nah, you're fucking with me," he said, "the Vikings? The guys with the horns on their heads?"

"I'm not kidding," Carrie said sitting up and fully meeting his gaze for the first time since he had hung overtop her, "I swear to you, they did it. Tricking their enemies. For the sake of how much can they fuck a person in the head." Douglass watched her for a moment, before letting out a laugh and sipping his beer again, before smirking.

"Maybe they were just being smart," Douglass countered, "before they knew that it was just one sheet of ice for miles on end. Then they realized what a shitty name Greenland was." Carrie stared at him for a moment, before smiling slightly, unable to hold back her grin.

"You really know how to get under my skin, don't ya?"

"Guess you could say I know what makes you tick."

"Oh so now you suddenly know everything about me, huh?" Carrie said, leaning over to give his shoulder a playful shove, "Well, go on, what's my favorite color?" She watched him and noticed him glance at her lips - surprisingly - before moving back to her eyes.

"I don't know….blue probably." Carrie watched him and stilled for a moment.

"Uh….yeah, actually." she said quickly, and forced down the way her cheeks flamed (and for what she didn't know), "Alright, well, where do I come from?"

"Brooklyn." Douglass said, laughing at the look on her face, "Look, sweetheart, that New York accent ain't just a voice with Southern twang. I know if I was walking down the streets, and I heard your voice, it'd be you."

"God, what the hell." murmured Carrie as Douglass chuckled, "You won't get this - school subject." Douglass looked at her and then smirked before leaning forward.

"Something with math, right?" he asked her confidently, "You don't just get interested in this sorta shit without having some interest there." Carrie watched him and tilted her head.

"Are you mind-fucking me or something?" she asked him, "How the hell-"

"Just good at reading people I guess." Douglass said with a smirk, "Contrary to popular belief, Bergie, I usually know what I'm talking about. There's a reason I'm a bombardier and not just some journalist or something." She watched him and licked her lips.

"Is that why you joined?" she asked him, "The Air Force? Flying in B-17s?" Douglass glanced at her and nodded.

"Had to join the fight somehow, couldn't just sit back and let the fucking Nazis think they could walk all over us," Douglass said, finishing his beer, "that sorta stuff just don't fly around here. Well, except us. We fly." The two burst out into laughter, before they both died down and looked to one another. For a moment, they were quiet regarding one another with somewhat hesitant gazes as Carrie finished off her beer.

"Well, I'm gonna head-"

"Did you wanna-"

They both watched each other, before breaking out into laughter and righting themselves.

"You go." Douglass said.

"I was gonna head out. Get some rest. Pretty tired." she said quickly, her heart racing as she smiled at him with a nod, "You?" Douglass stared at her and for the first time, she saw the sudden shyness in his gaze as he glanced away from her and then back.

"Just…was gonna get another drink, but you head out, get some rest," he said, before smirking at her, "you need it."

"Oh, you asshole." grumbled Carrie knocking his shoulder before standing to her feet, Douglass following suit. The stood there for a moment, looking at one another - usually, if this were a Silver Bullets girl, she'd give them a hug, but with Douglass, she felt frozen in place. She stuck out her hand instead, to shake, and he shook her hand, and she felt more awkward than ever before, as she shook back. His handshake was firm though, and confident and suddenly made her feel like some 16-year-old girl in high school and balked.

"Well, I'll see you around." she said, stumbling back a bit, "Night!" And she disappeared quickly - like she always did. She found the barracks, promptly settled into bed, and then stared at the ceiling, counting the dried pieces of wood hanging from the panels again.

And she replayed the look in James Douglass' eyes - over and over.

And for the first time in years, all she could think about was James Douglass' eyes that had watched her like that, as she tried to fall asleep.

To say the least, it was the best sleep in months.

#carrie you are a national treasure never change #carrie x dougie #carrie achterberg #james douglass #bessie carlisle #francis montez #judy rybinski #birdie faulkner #(cpt faulkner with her own tag HOORAY!!!!) #pre-annie bradshaw era though so :'( #this was FUN!!!! #carrie and dougie DO have common ground!!! disliking GREENLAND LMFAOOO #carrie is a history nerd when it comes to vikings yes #she is obsessed #she just doesnt like greenland lmao #dougie was going to ask her to dance (sobs) #its ok #its fine #THEM #THEM THEM THEM #THANK YOU AGAIN!!! <3333333 #masters of the air #mota #mota writings #silver bullets #james douglass x oc

[wexhappyxfew]

I have no idea what's the proper way to send a prop but I would love to see “If you do that one more time I don’t think I’ll be able to control myself.” for Carrie + Douglass. Somethin' about the way they flirt, it's got me feelin' some typa way 😌 Of course, only if you can - thank you so so much!

HEY FRIEND!!!! thank you so much for dropping this in the askbox! so sorry it took me some time to get to it - the end of my semester was quite chaotic i must admit, but with the time i have, i was so excited to get to this one! (i think you asked it perfectly btw!!!) THEY MAKE ME LOSE MY MINDDDDD, i am so glad it is equally shared haha!! i hope you enjoy this then my friend!!! they are quite the duo!! :D

didn't think you'd notice

(a/n): for my carrie x dougie fans, this is for you! let's just say - i did NOT expect this to end as it did, but honestly, for these two, i'm not at all upset about it so, please enjoy! had this sitting around for a bit, but it need a lot of editing, and finally had time so! i hope you enjoy! :D

A crooning Louis Armstrong song echoed somewhere above the flying club as Carrie took a long sip of her beer, reveling in the taste and the warmth that filled her body.

"You drink anymore of that and you'll be facedown on the toilet tomorrow." Marianne said, settling on the chair opposite Carrie with Frank, the orange cat, curled around Marianne's shoulders like some sort of expensive scarf - except the scarf was very much alive.

"You don't know that," Vivian chimed in as she settled into the other open chair and sipped at her martini, "You may not know this Mar, but Bergie's quite good at holding her alcohol. Unlike some people-"

"No need to rub it in." murmured Marianne with a low chuckle, "I'm just saying, we may have practice runs tomorrow, don't need our bombardier passed out at the bombsight."

"We ain't even dropping bombs!" Carrie admonished as she sat up and glanced at Marianne with a winning grin, "We're flying low over English coastline. Nothing's dropping outta the sky except maybe Blakely's formation."

"Heard that." Ev Bakely's voice called from somewhere to their right, "You know, I could tell Lieutenant Bradshaw you are talking quite disingenuous about me and-"

"I never said a word!" Carrie said sitting up and pointing a finger at Blakely with a smile, "You can tell her I said so. That I was sweet as maple syrup to you and all the fixings." Blakely raised a brow and took a sip of his own beer and nodded.

"Then what's this about dropping outta formation?" he asked her.

"What she's saying is that your crew oughta drop outta formation before Silver Bullets even dips-"

"Don't give him ideas, Mar." Vivian said, interjecting the tail gunner's query, "I think you do a bang-up job, Ev, but I gotta hand it to ya, Silver Bullets does her job."

"That's because you got Annie Bradshaw at the wheel." a new voice joined in, the likes of Francis Montez entering the picture, "You have someone like Brady who crashes a fort on any given day, you might've thought differently. Or better yet-" Francis turned to Blakely and patted his shoulder, "-Ev Blakely. Heard you had your fair share of crash courses in flying B-17s." Blakely rolled his eyes and turned to Carrie.

"You think if I tell Annie her co-pilot's talking about Brady she'll-"

"Lose her shit?" Carrie asked him, enticed, "Please, I'd love to see that."

"I'm sure you would." Carrie heard from the groups left and watched as Dougie waltzed over, stubbing out a cigarette and throwing an arm around Francis' and Blakely's shoulders, "I'd bet a hundred dollars to see Bergie lose her shit."

"I'm talking about Lieutenant Bradshaw, genius." Carrie said, with a raised brow and watched as Dougie let out a dry chuckle and slid his arms out from around their shoulders and bent down in front of Carrie slightly.

"First time you've considered my intelligence, I'm honored." he said and Carrie smirked.

"Don't get used to it." she offered back. Dougie smirked at her as the song changed to a sanguine Ella Fitzgerald tune. She stared at him and watched as he, quite nervously, stuck out a hand and wiggled his fingers.

"Not everyday I consider my hand in a dance either, so…." Dougie said, "take it or leave it." Carrie stared at Dougie for a moment, the pound of her heartbeat picking up as he watched her, like he was trying to read a book that was far too complex to understand.

"Not everyday that I take it." she said back smoothly, placing down her beer and standing, letting him take her hand toward the dance floor, knowing she'd get some heckling for this back at the table with some of the girls.

Slowly, she turned to him, his gaze making her feel hot all over in a way she blamed merely on the amount of beer she'd consumed. His hands moved from her upper hips, fingers dancing on her lower back, as hot chills eclipsed her form, her own arms coming to wrap up and around him neck, his presence tantalizing and intoxicating as suddenly every breath made her feel very conscious about just how close they were.

Carrie watched him up close, her head tilted slightly upward at the sudden nearness and slight bit of height he had on her. He smelled quite nice, his face clean-shaven except for that stubborn mustache that was growing on her, and his hair wasn't in that ridiculous gelled cut he usually sported. For a second, she was almost ready to run her hands up and through his dark locks, but she kept her hands firmly locked behind his neck instead and resisted every urge to do so. With just how closely she was studying him, she could tell he was doing the same thing.

"What?" Dougie asked her quietly, the music drowning out the thought of anyone else around them, "You got that look on your face."

"What look?" she managed out, her cheeks uncontrollably turning crimson. Dougie let out a chuckle and let his eyes go all soft, enough to make her heart lose control for a second.

"Maybe you save it just for when we're talking, but," Dougie said softly, "you got that stressed and stubborn look on your face. We're just dancing, look." Dougie shifted closer to her to where his breath was fanning across her face and she could feel each individual finger on her uniform, enough to pierce her skin underneath.

"You don't gotta be stressed when you're dancing with Dougie." Dougie said with a low chuckle, and Carrie snickered and shook her head.

"Didn't think you'd ask me to dance anyway," she said, her mouth moving faster than her brain, "and you really need to start wearing your hair like that more often." She stared at him as she said it and watched as his own brain seemed to rewire the longer he stared back.

"Like this?" Dougie asked her, his grip tightening on her waist as he lingered closer to her and smiled softly, "Didn't think you'd notice something like that." Carrie watched him, inches from his face and smiled slightly, her eyes fluttering shut slightly, before peaking out to stare just beneath his eyes.

"I notice a lot of things," she whispered back, her voice tight and high strung, "more than you might realize."

"Hm, is that so?" he whispered to her quietly, her eyes holding his gaze again as they stared each other, wrapped in one another's warmth and intensity, "How about the first time I met you, I remember that you were wearing your hair in that pretty braid. When your hair had been longer." She watched him as his hand slowly crept up her form to cup the side of her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

"You tried convincing me to do a vodka shot with you," Carrie whispered back, trying to catch what breath she had left, "you did a poor job of doing so." Dougie let out a small chuckle, before adjusting those soft, puppy-dog eyes again onto her and smiling softly, enough to make her heart ache just at the way he watched her.

"Yeah, it was pretty bad," he whispered back, his smile riding high, before it disappeared, into a more desperate and yearning look that crossed his face, "listen, Bergie….." She felt her body press against his full, her hands finding their way up the back of his head into his hair. She watched him, from right in front of her eyes as her heart ached more and more.

"The second time I met you, you offered me a cigarette, a Lucky Strike. You had on your sheepskin, you gelled your hair and your aftershave was like Buck's. Pine and cotton." she said quickly, watching as he stared at her, "You danced with Marianne that night. Then the next night was Tatty, and then Charlotte, and then Gemma." She stared at him, her heart pounding.

"The next night, you asked Judy to dance and Dougie….I wished that was me." she managed out, her hand snaking up to the one on the side of his face, brushing her fingers over his soft skin, "You chew gum way too loud for my liking, you usually get a beer and then do a shot, before drinking water. It's all about balance, you say. You are a horrible dancer, but I am too." Dougie continued to watch her as she felt her face reddening and her palms become sweaty, but she didn't care. She couldn't hold back anymore with what emotions had been building for months, week after week.

"I could pick out your laugh in a crowd anywhere," she whispered, watching as his eyes grew wide with a certain depth and surprise, "and I sure as hell would notice when something is wrong." She stared a little longer, biting back her lip as she wrapped her hand around his a bit. "I always do." She watched him, a certain desperation filling her body.

"If you do that one more time, I don't think I'll be able to control myself." Dougie whispered, a certain lowness to his voice that made her cheeks burn.

"What?"

"Look at me like that. Like you always do," he whispered back, his voice husky in a way that made her knees weak. His breath ghosted over her lips for a moment and before either of them were aware of the world around them and whatever was going on between them, Dougie was kissing her. She didn't care that they were in the middle of a shadowed, crowded dance floor, laced with smoke, the smell of beer, and low, swing music. She kissed back like her entire world was right there in front of her.

#INSANE FOR THIS I TELL YOU #FREAKING OUT #SCREAMING #CRYING #THEY HIT THE PENTAGON #THEMMMMMM #(SCREAMING) #sorry yall i love them with my whole heart omfg #insane for this insane i love them #carrie x dougie #masters of the air #mota #silver bullets #mota writings #carrie achterberg #james douglass #james douglass x oc #i just want them to live long and happy lives okay?!?!?!?!

[winniemaywebber]

hi gang!!!

after posting part 5 yesterday and it not gaining that much traction, I'm gonna stick to posting on Fridays! part 6 will be up next Friday and I can't wait for you all to read it 🥰

thanks again for loving my girlie. she means so much to me and I love sharing her with you!!!

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fic #mota fic #honeysuckle rose #oc: olive lewis #benny demarco #james douglass #benny demarco x oc #james douglass x oc

[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. 

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fic #mota fic #Honeysuckle Rose #Olive Lewis #masters of the air x oc #benny demarco #James Douglass #everett blakely #oc: olive lewis #oc: valencia dirosano #just a snappin #time travel #1940s #ww2 #wwii #winnie writes

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 5

part one part two part three part four

masterlist olive's playlist

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

“Whatcha readin’?”

John Brady stands a few meters away from where Olive is sat, deep in her crumpled and aged copy of her favorite Shakespeare play. She quickly snaps it shut, expecting to be left alone for a little while longer after tiptoeing out of the Red Cross Hut, rising earlier than she anticipated. The gray morning sky had a tint of yellow to it, the sunrise surprisingly warm on her face. It was a sense of warmth and calm belonging she hadn't felt in years and she wanted to savor the moment. Creeping into the Officer’s Club with her book, curling up in one of the large armchairs on offer, she had hoped for a few more moments of peace before the day began. Sensing Brady was having a similar issue, standing there, packing his pipe, she blinks up at him and smiles. 

“The Tempest. In my opinion, the best Shakespeare ever wrote. You know his work?”

“Boy, do I!” He replies gleefully, lighting the pipe that's now in his mouth and shaking the match to extinguish it. “It's my girl's favorite, too!”

“No way! Get outta here. That's amazing.”

“She sure is,” he puffs at the pipe, his eyes glazing over at the wistful mention of her. “She's a schoolteacher. Teaches English to high school kids and she gets so excited at the time of year when the curriculum allows her to share her love of William.” 

“I like the sound of her already. What's her name?”

He smiles, a plume of smoke leaving his lips. “Jules. Juliet.”

“Juliet?” Olive replies, smiling softly at the  apparent coincidence. “As in ‘of the sun’?” 

“The very same,” he responds as he begins to turn on his heel. 

“You'd better tell her about this in your next letter to her, Brady,” she jokingly scolds. “I need someone to read my Shakespeare essays and reviews. She sounds perfect for the job.”

“Oh, she'd love that,” he laughs. 

“No need to be sarky now, John,” she says sullenly, eyes now back on the page she left off from.

“Never!” He holds up his hands in surrender. “I'm being serious. She'd love that. Give me whatever you want her to read.” 

“Bet!”

“I'll pass some good passages on to Dougie, see if he'll give it a try.” 

“John,” she smiles, eyes twinkling. “Please try.”

—

Tattie rushes in an hour later, her eyes widened with stress as she applies her red lipstick on the move, somehow managing to get the shape perfect without a mirror. “I'm so late,” she moans, walking around the club like a headless chicken. “And so hungover. Olive, be a doll and go start setting up the–”

“Already did, Tat. Coffee hot and ready for our boys.”

“The donuts are in–”

“Yep. Got those too. Sitting pretty on their trays, napkins right next to them. Don't worry, I got it covered.”

“You're a darling. I'll buy you a drink at the club tonight to say thanks.”

“Perfect!”

—

Today being a non-mission day did not mean the girls weren't busy. Right as Val and Helen got to the truck, surprised to see Olive so bright eyed and awake - “it'll be the four coffees I've gulped in the past two hours” - the boys came to the truck thick and fast. First was Brady and his crew, M'lle Zig Zig, all wanting their second breakfast of coffee and donuts, Olive and Brady giving one another a knowing nod as she passed him his cup. Next were Bucky and the Mugwump crew, Bucky somehow even more amped for the morning than Olive was, his loud voice booming across base so far that the girls were almost sure the loud noise would have the inhabitants of the local village out of bed thinking it was some type of foghorn pulling them out of their slumber. Not far behind were Buck and Demarco, the crew of Our Baby. 

“Hi, Ol,” Benny says, softly. “Good morning.”

“Benny,” she smiles, handing him a coffee before he's even asked. “And where is the most special guy of all?” A single bark comes from next to Benny, Meatball panting at his side. Olive exits the truck to greet him, knowing that if she invited him up, that would be it for the donuts - nobody was a fan of dog hair sprinkle variety.

“You mind watching him? I know it's only a practice, but I still don't wanna risk it.”

“Sure, Benny. We'll hang out, terrorize Kenny at some point, get him good and tired.”

“Yeah, Kenny needs that,” Benny smirks. 

“You know what I mean,” shoving him playfully. “Be safe, okay?” 

“Yeah, Ol. Always.” 

—

Meatball was getting restless as a few stragglers made their way to the hardstand after visiting the Clubmobile. Despite being tied up, he was trying his best to run, his little face all sad when he realized he wasn't able to roam. 

“You got it from here, Val? That dog is chomping at the bit for a run around.”

“Absolutely, Ollie,” she nods, opening her copy of Screen Stories at the page she'd left off from yesterday. “Anything to make sure those donuts stay Meatball hair free.”

“Thanks, chicken. Be right back. Helen?” She turns to Helen, her beautiful dark hair pulled expertly under a headscarf. “You wanna come too?”

“Please!”

The two begin making their own way over to the hardstand, Meatball pulling keenly at the lead to hurry his companions along, seemingly excited for some carefree recreation time. 

“Morning, ladies!” Ev Blakely comes towards them, brown leather jacket and aviators. Olive giggles, knowing exactly how weak at the knees Val was about to be at the sight of her man in his gear. Dragging behind was the man that had the very same effect on Olive, his hair perfectly slicked back, his sheepskin jacket perfectly fitted on his broad shoulders.

“Helen,” he greets. 

“Dougie,” she replies, a slight wink to Olive as she takes her cue to depart. 

Looking around to make sure nobody is watching, he takes Olive in his arms. “Hi, pretty.”

“Hi, Dougie. Good morning.”

“Good morning indeed,” he winks, kissing the corner of her mouth. “You look beautiful as always.” 

“Stop,” she giggles. “You're looking pretty good yourself.”

“Don't we make a fine pair, doll?”

“We sure do, darling.”

A screech interrupts the moment, Meatball taking off like a shot the second he spots Kenny, sending Helen flying through the air. 

“I'd better go rescue my girl, there.”

“But I wanna stay with my girl here,” he murmurs, winking.

“Your girl, huh?” she says, narrowing her eyes at him. “Very presumptuous. You haven't even asked me.”

“D'you want me to?”

The answer burns up in her body, the yes wanting to spill out so fast that it almost makes her nauseous. She isn't one to be so forthright, forcing the agreeable answer down as fast as it tries to escape her lips. 

“Maybe,” she instead teases, looking up at him flirtatiously through her lashes. “Please be safe, Dougie.”

“It's only a practice, doll.”

“Nevertheless,” she murmurs, her hand stroking his cheek. “I need you to come back to me.”

—

A familiar rumble distracts Meatball, the ball flying past his face as Kenny throws it across the airfield. 

“Meatball!” He yells, trying to get the dog's attention. “Get it, boy!” He stands, stuck to the spot, waiting for Kenny to throw the ball that's already been chucked meters away. 

“I don't got it, dummy! I threw it thatta way. You weren't lookin’!” 

“Aw, leave my pal alone,” Olive pouts, scritching Meatball under the chin. “Here, look,” she says, standing up again. She balls her hand into an almost-fist, an invisible spherical shape in the palm of it. “Go get it,” she yells as she throws the ‘ball’, Meatball taking off like a shot in the direction in which Kenny had thrown the real ball previously.

“Jeez, that darn dog.”

Olive laughs, before turning to the landscape, the sky a cloudless blue with fields rolling along underneath it. The rumble getting louder, Olive shields her eyes with her hand as Meatball brings the ball back to Helen, who instantly screams at the sight miles from them. 

A plane comes hurtling out of the sky, the trees catching fire instantly, a loud BANG heard over the noise of the Land Girls screaming in horror. 

“Holy shit,” Olive gasps, her heart caught in her throat, her body suddenly clammy all over. Helen walks over and grips her hand, her breathing equally as shaky. 

“Get outta here, girls,” Kenny urges, throwing himself into a Jeep.

“No way, Lemmons.”

“I'll come find ya if–” 

“Don't say it.”

“Olive. I'll come find ya, kay?” She simply nods, somehow not able to formulate a coherent thought. With Helen by her side, she feels her hand being tugged on. 

“We'd better get back to the truck,” she says, ushering Olive along. “It'll be okay, doll. Promise. Now, one foot in front of the other please.” Taking Meatball's leash, Olive lets Helen lead her.

Both breaking into a sprint with Meatball running slightly ahead as they approached the Clubmobile, unopened boxes all around it, they manage to catch up with Val and Tattie who had sped back in Tattie’s Jeep. 

“What the hell happened out there?” Olive yells over the sound of the running engine. 

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

“Fuck sake! That was them?”

“Yea, it was them.” Val steps out of the jeep, leaning against it with a heavy sigh. Olive begins to walk towards her, gesturing for Meatball to stay put. 

“We just saw them this morning…” Helen remembers, head on the Clubmobile in sadness. 

Val can only nod, not quite able to speak yet due to the shock. A moment of silence is shared between them, Olive trying her best to breathe and calm down. Tears prick at her eyes and threaten to spill out onto her face, and she blinks them back with all her might. “Be a tough girl,” she whispers to herself. “Tough girls don't cry.” 

Helen removes herself from the side of the Clubmobile and walks towards Val, who, still leaning on the Jeep, remains in shock and unblinking until Helen's words bring her back to them. 

“Val? You alright?”

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

“Oh honey, I know…”

“Could have been either of them, Helen,” she says sadly, talking of Ev and Curt. "And I’m not keen on being alone.”

“Oh chicken, you’ll never be alone. You’ve got us.” Olive says, joining the two girls, taking Val’s free hand in hers, offering the same comfort as Helen.

“I need to get used to being called chicken as a term of endearment.” Val laughs as her head weakly drops to Olive's shoulder.

“There we go,” she grins. “Feeling better?”

Val nods reluctantly, as she pushes herself up off Jeep to finally stand, walking towards the abandoned boxes. Gesturing for the other girls to give her a hand, she suddenly freezes, that all too familiar scowl appearing between those perfectly outlined eyebrows.

“Meatbal! No!” The three girls look over to where the yell came from and see Tattie, hands on her hips in frustration, the scowl on her face almost rivaling Val’s as Meatball rips into one of the boxes, bouncing on his paws with excitement to try and hold it down as the cardboard escapes from him at every bite.

“I’m gonna kill DeMarco,” Tattie sighs, arms crossed. “Olive, tell your man to train his damn dog!”

“Not my man, Tat,” she replies, feeling Tattie’s pointed look burning into her as her back is turned. 

“Either way,” she sighs, her expression suddenly softer. “Someone needs to tell him.”

—

After a long day, the girls showered and got ready for an evening at the club. Finally taking some lessons from Val and Helen, Olive had, for the first time, managed to set her hair into soft curls with minimal help. While they had set, the girls had insisted on doing her makeup, transforming her into the soft, pink-cheeked girl she was beginning to fall in love with. Val insisted on filling in Olive’s brows and Helen had taken over the lashes, carefully daubing the ink on them with painstaking concentration, her tongue sticking out as she did so. 

“There,” Helen had sighed, closing the mascara box with a soft snap. “Absolutely perfect.” After getting herself ready first, Helen had arranged to meet her other girls at the club later on, keen to soothe the woes of a long day with Tattie as soon as she possibly could. 

Exiting the hut half an hour after Helen, Val and Olive found themselves surprised to see Curt waiting for them, leaning on the building ever so cooly. He had a playful grin about his face, Val rolling her eyes and groaning the second she saw his expression. Olive giggled as he approached them, Curt giving her a wink.

“Can I walk ya to the club, Val?”

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

“Honest to God, I 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 stops walking, and gives her friend a soft smile. Taking Olive’s hand for a second, she gives her the same smile. “Olive, I’ll catch up.”

“Okay,” she nods, still smiling. “I’ll save your seat!”

Olive begins the short walk to the club from where they had been standing, and sees Benny outside with Meatball, beaming as he sees her.

“Good evening,” he says, loosening his grip on Meatball’s leash as she approaches. 

“Hey, Benny,” she replies, bending down to greet Meatball too. “Hi, buddy, what’s up? Ready for a dance? You owe me one for tearing up all those boxes this morning.”

“Oh, shit. He did what?”

“Tore up a whole box of paper cups. Tattie went ballistic and had a sour face for the rest of the day. You should probably buy her a drink to soften her up a little.”

“Y-yeah, probably a good idea,” he responds, holding the door open for her. “After you, Miss Olive.”

“Thanks, doll.” 

As she walks into the warm, welcoming atmosphere of the club, she spots Dougie right away, standing at the bar with Everett. He’s so handsome that it takes her breath away, feeling herself get a little lightheaded as he senses her eyes on him, smiling sweetly at her as he stubs out his cigarette. 

“Uhm, excuse me for a second, Benny,” she says as she begins to make her way towards the direction of the ladies room.

“Sure. What’ll it be this evening?”

“The usual. Thanks, Benny,” she smiles, his kindness causing a pang of guilt to build up in her stomach, her eyes suddenly pricking with tears as she walks away. 

—

“Get a fucking grip, Ollie,” she says to herself as she hides in a cubicle for a few moments, centering herself the way her drama teacher had taught her. Filling her lungs with air and feeling them deflate, the built up anxiety drifting out of her with each breath. The panic, however, is still there, and the guilt is practically choking her, as two large tears drop onto her lap, taking her by surprise. Benny being such a kind, sweet man, being so genuine - any girl would be lucky to have a man like that. Her thoughts, however, quickly turn back to Dougie; the way the world practically stops turning whenever he looks at her, the way he makes her belly laugh at every opportunity. How he makes her weak at the knees, how he touches her subtly as if it’s their little secret. Realizing she had been in the bathroom a lot longer than anticipated, she washes her hands hurriedly and makes her exit. 

Just outside the door stands Dougie, two glasses in his hand. 

“You sure took your time.”

“God forbid a woman take some time alone,” she giggles, looking down at his hands. “That one for me?” She asks hopefully, the liquid within the glass looking familiar. He nods, handing it to her. 

“It is. Bought it as I came in. And luckily, that wasn’t long before you strolled in with our friend DeMarco.”

“Oh, it’s like that is it?”

“Maybe.” He takes the steps that are separating them and wraps his free arm around her waist. “I really wanna fucking kiss you right now,” he murmurs near her ear. “Can I?” 

Wanting nothing more than to finally feel his mouth on hers, the way she knows it would make her toes curl in delight and give her goosebumps over her entire body, she eyes up their surroundings and shakes her head.

“Not in front of the bathroom, James. Pick a better spot.” He sighs, resting his head on her shoulder. She nuzzles into him, her free hand tickling the back of his neck. “We’d better go,” she whispers sadly, not wanting to let go of him. 

“Don’t wanna,” he purrs into her, nuzzling into her neck now. 

“Dougie,” she pleads, reluctantly moving her shoulder. 

“Fine,” he sighs, his hand now on her face. “You better dance with me later.”

“Deal.” He walks away, leaving her there alone, which she is grateful for. Finding a lone spot right by the bathroom, she downs the drink given to her, the feeling of the alcohol rushing through her veins catching her by surprise. With one more deep breath, she makes her way back to the club where she knows her friends are waiting on her, stopping at the bar to drop off her empty glass.

Stopping is a mistake - within a moment, Olive feels herself accosted by not just Benny and Dougie, but Curt, too. Feeling incredibly overwhelmed, Olive looks around to find her friends gathered around their usual table, Val and Ev gazing into one another’s eyes as if nobody in the room - nor the world - exists. 

It’s Helen that catches Olive’s eye first, Olive’s panicked gaze causing her to stand from her seat suddenly. Murmuring something to Val, she breaks her gaze from her man to stand up, pushing her chair back as she does so. 

“Okay, boys, that’s enough,” she scolds as she pushes through the small crowd to get to Olive’s side. Olive, thankful for the rescue, clings to Val’s hand without a second thought, Val rubbing the back of her friend’s hand in comfort. “I have two very thirsty friends,” she says, referring to Helen and Tattie while staring right at Curt, “waiting on you at the table.”

“I was just–”

“Helen and Tattie are waiting,” she reinstates, a furrow fixed on him that makes him look like he’s about to jump out of his skin. It works, of course, as he hurriedly gets the barkeep’s attention, ordering two rum and cokes and a whiskey for himself. 

“You two,” She turns to Douglass and DeMarco, that furrow still fixed between her brows. “If you’d like to talk to Olive, come and sit with us.” Olive feels her hand being squeezed in comfort  as she remains silent, the panic attack still swelling within her chest. 

“Oh, uh…” Dougie stutters, struggling to come up with an excuse.

“The table, Dougie,” she grins, the smile relaxing the furrow and showing her beautiful teeth. “Benny,” she turns to him now, who is bent down, petting Meatball, trying to avoid the confrontation. “You and Meatball are welcome to join us.”

Taking Olive by the arm, Val gets them back to the table in a flash. Olive smiles, shaking her head and finally able to formulate a coherent sentence.

“You could rule the world, Valencia DiRosano.”

“No,” she laughs, her eyes slightly wrinkling at the edges with glee. “But I could certainly whip these fellas into shape.” 

They all crowded around the table, snagging extra chairs from other groups with a pretty smile to make room for them all. Four Red Cross girls, three pilots, a bombardier and a dog, all sat around a small table, looking every part a hodgepodge group. Val had got up from her chair and sat in Ev’s lap as he’d patted his knee with a twinkle in his eye, Meatball instantly jumping into the empty chair the very second she had stood up from it. That got a laugh from the whole group, as he perched on the chair with his paws on the table, quite the distinguished gentleman; the most gentlemanly at the table, Olive thought, as Curt regaled a tale loudly of an event from old times that of course included Val and a blonde that she described as “practically garbage.” Everett holding her in his lap as he laughed, Curt’s voice getting more animated and louder to keep the attention on him.

“I ain’t never seen anything like it,” he reiterates, his arms flopping as he does so. “One minute she’s across the room, and the next, she’s got this girl by the elbow, hauling her out like–”

“Trash, Curt. Because, she was trash,” she sniggers, her words overlapping his in a rushed frenzy. Olive hears Benny chuckling to the right of her. 

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

“Call Tattie,” Val laughs, taking a sip of her drink. “She’s just as good as I am!”

“Oh, please!” Tattie replies from across the table. “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 says with a sigh. “Went and got himself demoted,” she says, mostly to Olive who has a confused look on her face. 

“How exactly do you get demoted from Air Exec?” Dougie ponders to Olive’s left as he lights himself another cigarette. Olive stares at him as he does so, the first small breath of smoke leaving his mouth as he talks. Without thinking, Olive reaches over and plucks it from pretty fingers, grinning all the while before placing it in her mouth and taking a drag. “Hey!” he teases, hand going to her lips to grab it back. She hands it back after only one inhale, feeling Benny’s sad eyes on her back as it all takes place. 

“You lot up for a group shot?” A man, stood with a camera around his neck walks up to the gang.

“Absolutely!” Tattie grins, having everyone get into place so they fit. She has Benny place Meatball up front, already doing his best pose with his tongue hanging out in happiness. Val stays put on Blakely’s lap, her arm around his neck and his on her waist. In a swift movement, Dougie pulls Olive onto his lap, looking like the cat that got the cream.

“Hi,” she giggles, trying to sit pretty, his blue eyes following her every movement. Curt had somehow squeezed himself in too, between Helen and Tattie with Benny close by.

“Alright, you guys. On three!”

—

To Olive’s surprise, Curt holds a hand out to Helen. “Humor a poor sap with a dance?”

Not hearing what else is said, Olive sees Helen take his hand as he guides her from her chair to the dancefloor. Olive sees a nod pass between Val and Tattie as Tattie stands, tugging at Dougie’s hand. “Come on, you. Let’s stretch our legs, hmm?”

“Sure, Tattie…” his eyes quickly glazing over as Benny offers Olive his hand. 

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

The music swells all around them, Olive and Dougie making eye contact as they dance with their respective partners.

“You know,” she begins, Benny swaying with her gently. “We’re spending this time together and I still know so little about you. Tell me about yourself.”

“Well,” he starts, his expression full of thought. “I lived in Chicago before I enlisted. I decided to enlist in 1940.”

“Wow,” Olive replies, taken aback. “Earlier than a lot of these boys.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods. “I was just determined to serve my country. I knew something was coming even before Pearl Harbor, and I wanted to make sure I could be a part of it.”

“That’s very brave, Benny. Stuff like that doesn’t go unnoticed.”

“Just doing my job, Olive,” he says with a shrug. “It’s what we’re all doing.”

At that moment, Olive feels herself being softly pushed into another partner, Tattie signaling Benny to dance with her. 

“Oh, I see what she’s up to.”

“It was my idea.”

“Yeah, no shit, Dougie. Color me surprised.” Nevertheless, she feels herself smile at him, both of their eyes softening as they look at one another. She suddenly realizes what happens between Val and Everett. At this moment, nobody else in this room - nor the world - exists. It’s just her and James, swaying to a slow love song, his hand in hers and the other on her waist. She closes her eyes for a second, a slow breath leaving her pursed lips. 

“You okay?” Dougie asks, his voice etched with concern.

“Yes, doll,” she replies, her hands going around his neck. 

“You’re lookin’ at me like I’ve hung the moon in the sky or somethin’,” he grins.

“Because I think, maybe you have.” She lets her head fall to his shoulder, him planting a gentle kiss on her forehead. 

“Is this a better spot?” he asks, his lips brushing against her nose as he leans his neck down slightly. Coming back up to face him, a worried expression on her face, she shakes her head once again.

“I’d love nothing more than to have you kiss me, Dougie–”

“Then let me.”

“Not in front of Benny, darling. That’s not fair.” 

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, his eyes downcast. “But you want me to, right?”

“I do. I absolutely do. It’s killing me to have to deny myself that. But I’m not here to hurt people, nor make them upset. Can you understand that?”

“I can,” he smiles, sadly. “You’re so fucking sweet, Ol. Just adorable.”

“Sweet on you,” she replies, her lips pressed to his cheek. 

“Ah, shit,” he murmurs, his eyes focused on something above the door. Benny walks over, patting him on the shoulder. “Gotta go, buddy.”

“Yeah, Benny. Be right there.”

Olive turns and sees the familiar red light beaming over the club, the band finishing suddenly in the middle of their song. 

“I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” She says, her voice suddenly tightening. 

“I know. I can hardly wait.” Clearing his throat, he leans in again and finds her ear. “Goodnight, goodnight. Parting is such sweet sorrow.” Olive pulls away, brows furrowed in amazement and confusion.

“You’ve been talking to Brady, huh?”

“Come on, Ol. He said his girl likes this one, so I thought I’d try it, too. Finish it.” Olive laughs at the sudden seriousness on his face, his blue eyes suddenly resembling Meatball’s. She breathes, trying to compose herself.

“That I shall say goodnight till it be morrow. There. Happy now?”

“See, wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“You’re insufferable, James Douglass.”

“Yeah, I know. It’s why you like me.” 

#masters of the air #mota #masters of the air fic #mota fic #Honeysuckle Rose #Olive Lewis #masters of the air x oc #Benny DeMarco #James Douglass #Everett Blakely #Valencia DiRosano #oc: Olive Lewis #oc: Valencia DiRosano #just a snappin #1940s #ww2 #wwii #time travel #winnie writes

[wexhappyxfew]

i'm taking prompts - again haha

i had SO MUCH FUN with taking prompts last time for the Silver Bullets girls (MOTA), that i can't help but do it again - especially now that we have some relationships more fleshed out too (and a better introduction to other OCs and such hehe) SO, please feel free to send in a prompt and an OC or OC/canon character pairing of your choice!!! pairings sent in also don't have to be with the romantic pairing below - it can be platonic, or against a foil too! pairings can also be two SB girls, or just one of the SB girls too!!! feel free to mix and match!! it's all about the fun and the vibes! <3 (things can happily be sent on anon too if you’re not comfortable 🫶✨)

Silver Bullets girls are linked here !!!!

-> interested in pairings? just below!

Annie Bradshaw x John Brady

Kennedy Farley x Bucky Egan

Judy Rybinski x Rosie Rosenthal

Carrie Achterberg x James Douglass

Margie Harlowe x Benny DeMarco

Bessie Carlisle x Thomas McKenzie

and here are the prompts i'm looking into as well!! <3 please feel free!!! these get me going *BIG TIME* and are so much fun, more than anything. thank you all for the love and support and for taking the time to look into the Silver Bullets girls - seriously, you've made my heart so warm and it has helped me through more than you can imagine :) (we're definitely going more angsty with some of these, but i eat it up every time so hehe!)

seeking out physical affection

dialogue assortment

lack of sleep starters

protective sentence starters

#welcome to the Silver Bullets-MOTAverse where its me losing my mind and fangirling over things in my head #hi hello how are you #prompts! again! #i cant help myself #i have a francis piece brewing (thank you bluuuuu!!) #but wanted to just put this out incase people had ideas ;) i had a few people with plenty of wonderful ideas so i figured id open this #opportunity up again! #thank you all!!! <3 #silver bullets #masters of the air #mota #mota writings #SB-MOTAverse #WOOOOOO #send in whatever you wish + how ever many you wish - im all ears :)