#crosby crew

[starshine-hockey-girl]

Apple of His Eye - Crosby Crew blurb

A little Crosby Crew blurb inspired by this video of the cutest Penguins Junior Starter ever...

https://youtu.be/fHCoZKNd_Uo?si=TutuE6kWLsfO9rsF

Here is chapter one of the series -

@pattiemac1 @penstxgal1968

Tuesday, December 26th 2023 – Crosby House, Sewickley PA

“Momma,” Callie called from the bottom of the stairs, “Your phone is ringing.” Sera’s head turned toward the door of Cole’s nursery.

“Callie Girl,” she called down, “Can you read the name and tell me who is calling?” She pressed her lips together when she heard Callie answer the call herself. “I swear to God,” she sighed as she wiped Cole’s plump rump, “You may look like your Daddy’s twin, but that girl- she is his spiritual twin. They both don’t listen well.” Cole smiled at his mother as she finished the diaper change.

“Hello, this is Sera Crosby’s phone- Callie speaking,” Callie spoke loudly into the phone. She beamed with pride that she was able to answer the phone on her own.

“Uhhh, Callie?” the voice on the other end spoke in confusion, “This is Coach Sam. I need to speak to your mother. Is she available?”

Callie froze in place, “You need to speak to my mother?” She racked her brain if there was anything negative her coach could report from a recent practice. “Am I in trouble?” she questioned.

“Of course not, Callie. I just need to speak to your mother,” her coach answered.

Callie ran up the stairs and rushed into the room. She thrust the phone into her mother’s hand and ran out of the room. “Uh, hello?” Sera questioned as she watched her daughter disappear in a flash.

“Sera?” the coach questioned, “This is Coach Sam. Is Sid around?”

“No, what’s up?” she pulled up Cole’s pants and placed him on the floor as she cleaned the changing table.

“The Penguins reached out to me. They would like a representative of the team to be the Junior Starter of the game on January 6th,” he explained as Sera listened. “I would like Callie to be our representative but I know that Sid is very conscious of the appearance of any sort of favoritism because of his position.”

Sera mulled it over as she walked toward Callie’s room. The curly haired girl was nowhere to be seen. Sera leaned against the door, “If Callie’s last name was not Crosby, would she be the one that you would select?”

“Absolutely! She is the leading goal scorer and a leader on the ice,” he explained.

“Then I think that she should be offered the opportunity if she earned it on her merits,” Sera smiled, “Unfortunately, she seems to be missing in action. I guess you will need to ask Xander.”

“Nooooooo,” Callie screamed from her closet. The door flew open and she ran out. “I am here. What portunity? What portunity?”

Sera handed the phone to Callie, “I will let your coach tell you.”

Callie put the phone to her ear and listened intently as her coach explained the opportunity. Her eyes filled with tears, “I really am not in trouble? You want me to represent the team?”

“Yes, Callie,” Coach Sam answered, “You earned it. I can’t think of anyone on the team that works as hard as you at every practice and every game. You are very talented Callie, but your hard work ethic is the best.”

“Thank you, Coach Sam,” Callie squealed, “So I will get to go stand next to Uncle Kris for the anthem?” Callie gasped and looked at her mother, “Can we surprise him? Can we surprise Uncle Kris?”

“Ummm, if you want to,” Sera smiled, “I don’t know how we will keep your Daddy to keep his mouth shut but we will try.”

Callie’s nose scrunched up, “Daddy can keep a secret.”

“Daddy can keep a secret from you,” Sera protested, “But he can’t keep a secret about you. He will be bursting with pride.”

“Umm, Callie?” Coach Sam interjected, “Can I tell the Penguins yes?”

“I am sorry,” Callie blushed, “Yes, please tell them I will do it. Can you tell them that I want it to be a secret?”

“I don’t think that they normally tell the players, but I will let them know that you don’t want them to know,” Coach Sam laughed, “Remember we don’t have practice again until the weekend of the 13th. I will see you at the game though.”

Callie turned to look at her mother who simply raised her eyebrows. The high pitched squeal reverberated through the house. Cole looked up at his big sister in question, unsure what the squeal communicated- delight or terror. When he saw the smile spread across her face, he joined in with his own squeals of delight. Callie ran and lept into her mother’s arms. “Momma, Momma, Momma - I get to be on Daddy’s ice before a real game. I get to wear my uniform and be a real Pittsburgh Penguin!”

“Yes, you will,” Sera replied as eyes filled with tears, “I am so happy for you.” Three members of the Crosby crew collapsed onto the floor in a pile of hugs and kisses.

Saturday, January Sixth – PPG Paints Arena

“Where are Aunt Sera and Callie?” Nikita asked his mother again as they stood by the glass for warm-ups.

Anna tried to avoid the question as long as possible. “Sera is doing Callie’s hair. She wants it to look special,” she finally stammered as an answer as Cole squirmed in her arms

Nikita gave his mother a side eye, “Callie never misses warm-ups. You are not telling me the truth.” Anna shot him a look that conveyed a very stern “Let it go” message. Nikita acquiesced and turned his attention to his father who had just taken to the ice.

On the other side of the arena, Callie stood in a hallway adjusting her shin pads as her mother taped her socks. “Mama, we’re going to be late,” she whined. Sera checked the time and confirmed that they were not late.

“Callie Girl, warm-ups just started. We have at least twenty minutes before they come to get you.” Sera remarked calmly.

“No, we go to them. That’s what Mr. Mark said,” Callie interjected, “We meet in the tunnel by the big stack of chairs. He showed me.”

Sera shook her head, “You’re right. Now let’s get your chest pads on and head that way. I wouldn’t want the Junior Starter of the game to be late. I hear that the Penguins Captain is a bit of a hard ass.”

“Momma!” Callie squealed, “You said ass. You are not supposed to cuss around me.”

“Hey, if you are going to be a Junior Starter, you have to get used to the hockey words,” her mother joked back, “but don’t use them until you are older.”

A few minutes later - Mark, the arena crew member, smiled as Callie walked towards the tunnel. “There is our Junior Starter of the game,” he smiled. Callie glanced back at her mother for reassurance. As much as the arena was a second home to her, the nerves were beginning to activate. She regretted telling her mom to not invite Nikita to come to the tunnel with them. Her best friend would make her feel calmer.

Sera sensed her daughter's anxiety and decided to get the logistics out of the way. “They said to leave her jersey off?” Sera stated as they were directed to the chairs, “Something about a mic?”

“Yes,” he said, “Let’s get you mic’d up. I think that the Penguins want to capture the audio and video.”

“The Penguins know?” Callie began to panic, “It’s supposed to be a surprise! It’s supposed to be a surprise!”

Mark laughed at first but looked at the very real expression of disbelief on Callie’s face. “Callie, look at me,” he said as she began to wind herself up. She glanced in his direction. “There are about five people who know that you are the Junior Starter of the game- the social media person, the announcer, your mom, you and me. That’s it, Callie. No one from the team knows, okay?”

Mark bent down to give Callie last minute instructions. “Now after they give the introduction, I will give you the signal and you can go stand next to your dad.” Callie’s eyes widened in surprise. In all of the times that she had mentally pictured this moment in her mind, she always stood next to Uncle Kris. That’s where all of the Junior Starters stood for the anthem. She looked up at her mother, then back to the handler. “I stand next to my Dad? Are you sure?” she questioned.

“I don’t see why not,” Mark smiled, “You know where he will be right?”

“Don’t worry about it dude,” Callie answered flippantly in an attempt to disguise her nervousness, “I know what I’m doing.“

The remark was met with swift rebuke from her mother. “Calliope Crosby, be respectful! Apologize right now.”

“I am sorry, Mr. Mark,” Callie quickly offered, “but I know where my dad stands. It is the same for every game.”

“Yeah, the Captain is a creature of habit, isn’t he?” Mark remarked with a smirk.

Callie nodded and began to feel the nerves again. Suddenly the house lights went dark and the music began. Callie inched forward and watched the screen as the pregame hype video began on the big screen. Her heart began to race and she rocked on her skates back and forth. Then she looked up on the screen just as the video switched to a live feed of the team coming from the locker room. She smiled as her father appeared on the screen. “Daddy,” she whispered to herself. The sight of him calmed her nerves and she noticed the intense look on his face. She tried to match his expression. Sera looked on from the side. She smiled to herself as she watched her daughter transform into her father’s mini-me.

Callie focused on the tunnel as the Penguins took to the ice. She ducked down when her father whizzed by her. Most took laps around their zone and headed to their bench. Five players, including her father, took their place on the blue line for introductions.

“Almost time. You ready?” he asked, “Go move out to the carpet. You know where to go? Can you find your dad?”

Yes,” she answered, “He will be closest to the boards.”

“Great,” Mark gave her a thumbs up, “Have fun!”

Callie stepped out onto the carpet as the introductions started. The Penguins faced away from her but her eyes were transfixed on her father. She shivered slightly as the crowd erupted at the line, “And the captain, number 87….. Sidney Crosby!”

The Penguins removed their buckets and turned slightly to face the carpet. Well, all of them except one. Kris Letang squinted his eyes in disbelief then he shook his head, “No way.” Behind him, Rickard Rakell leaned to the side, “Is that Callie?”

Sidney stood with his head down. His mind was focused on his pregame routine and he only half-listened to the arena announcer. It was time to announce the Junior Starter of the game, then it would be time for the anthem. He focused his eyes on the ice.

The announcer began her introduction, “Welcome to the ice tonight’s Junior Starter of the game- wearing number 87 - Calliope Crosby of the Sewickley Penguins.” The crowd erupted in cheers as they realized that the Junior Starter of the game was none other than Sidney Crosby’s daughter.

The roar of the crowd penetrated Sidney’s ears. “Wow,” he thought, “The crowd seems pretty fired up tonight. I bet the Junior Starter is a cutie.” He turned to watch them skate. His eyes settled on the small figure skating toward him. “Wait,” he thought, “They go next to Tanger. Why are they skating toward me?” Then he noticed the jersey. “Huh,” he questioned, “Callie’s team jersey looks just like that. Her breezers look just like that too.” Then he looked at the face beneath the visor.

Callie neared Kris Letang and flashed a smile, “Surprise Uncle Kris!” Then she skated past him toward her father.

Sidney stared and tried to make sense of what he was seeing. Why was Callie on the ice? He looked up and noticed her picture on the jumbotron. He read her name and the words “Junior Starter of the Game”. He made eye contact with his daughter and smiled, “Daddy, did I surprise you? I am a starter just like you. I get to be on YOUR ice.”

“Just like you” - The words hung in the air. His baby was here on the ice, with him. She was here on HIS ice. The reality that this would be the closest that he would come to playing hockey with one of his children. Sure, there would be exhibition games and scrimmages, but it wouldn’t be the same. It would be in a game atmosphere. He stared at her in stunned wonder.

He choked out the words, “Yes, Callie - just like me!” His eyes suddenly filled with tears and he titled his head back to keep the tears from falling.

The roar of the crowd continued. Through the noise, he could hear Geno laugh and call to Callie. “Callie- You play on my line. We score lots of goals.”

Callie yelled back, “Uncle Geno, I don’t actually get to play!” He gave her a wink and continued to beat his stick on the boards with the rest of the team.

The anthem singer was announced and Sidney looked at his daughter and his heart skipped a beat. The absolute pride coursed through his veins and radiated from his eyes. She looked up at him with a shy smile. “Callie,” he said softly, “Take off your helmet for the anthem, okay?”

She nodded solemnly. She knew that this was part of the pregame routine that her father strictly adhered to without exception. She took off her helmet and held it to her side, just like her father. On the sidelines, Sera watched with the same pride that Sidney felt. They, along with Cole, were the center of her universe and her heart burst with joy. She had not admitted it to anyone but there was a small part of her that had been disappointed when they found that Callie was a girl. Although she knew that she would love the tiny bean growing insided of her, Sera worried that Sidney might miss out on moments like this. She worried that he would love a son just a little more.

She shook her head and chided herself for not realizing that these moments would create themselves, regardless of their child’s gender. She had been wrong. There was no way that would have loved Callie more if she had been a boy. No, that girl was the apple of his eye and his love for her knew no bounds.

As the anthem began, Sidney looked down at his daughter. Gone was the smile. It had been replaced by the focused intensity of a game day. “Where did she learn that from?” he thought to himself as he turned and faced forward. His expression matched Callie’s. He nearly lost it though when he felt her small hand wrap around the pinkie of his glove. Despite the tough facade, she sought the comfort of her father to ease her anxiety. Sidney could not think of a higher honor than that. To be her safe person, the eraser of fears, her rock in this crazy word - that was his life’s purpose. Everything else was small potatoes. No, this - this moment in time was more precious than any hockey related accolade

There was not a dry eye among the parents in the crowd who watched this tender moment between their beloved captain and his daughter. For a brief moment in time, they witnessed him not as a decorated hockey veteran but in his greatest role as Callie's dad.

The sentimental tears turned into laughter as both Callie and Sidney made the Sign of the Cross and kissed their necklaces simultaneously as the anthem ended. Then she turned to skate off as she had been instructed. “Callie Girl,” he called out to her. She stopped in place while he bent and kissed her forehead. “Good job,” he spoke softly, “Good job!”

She looked up into his eyes and flashed a beaming smile. “Thank you Cap,” she answered, “I gotta go now. I am not supposed to doodle.”

“You mean dawdle?” he corrected.

“Yeah, dawdle, not doodle,” she corrected herself before skating off, “Bye!”

He stood and watched her skate toward the tunnel. He felt a pang of disappointment that she had not given him a hug before leaving. Then he remembered that she would have given detailed instructions on what to do. Knowing his daughter and the numerous times she had been told to “listen the first time”, she would follow the instructions to a T.

His eyes found his wife and they exchanged a look and a head nod before he turned to go to the bench. Callie was almost to the carpet when she stopped. Sera looked at her daughter in concern. Callie mouthed, “Sorry!” before turned around and started skating back across the ice. “Daddy! Daddy!” she yelled as sprinted across the ice.

Sidney turned around abruptly and watched her race towards him. Then he squatted down and opened his arms wide. She threw herself into his embrace and hugged him tight. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I needed a hug. I couldn’t go without a hug.”

“It’s okay, Callie Girl,” he soothed, “I wanted a hug.”

They stood and embraced for a moment. The noise of the crowd faded into silence as they clung to each other. He was just a dad hugging his precious child. The Buffalo Sabres awkwardly skated around the duo to get in position for the face-off. The rest of the Pittsburgh Penguins skated by them gingerly. Letang whispered softly as he passed, “Sid, it’s time.”

Sidney set Callie down and placed a kiss on the top of her helmet. “I love you so much, Callie Girl. I have to go to work now.”

Callie paused before she turned to yell at the Penguins bench. “Pittsburgh Penguins, what are you going to do tonight?” she yelled.

In unison, they yelled back “Listen the first time, do our best, and have fun!”

She gave them a big thumbs and skated off into her mother’s waiting arms. Sera covered Callie’s face with kisses. “Baby Girl! You did so well. Did you have fun?” she asked, “Was it fun to stand there with Daddy?”

Callie buried her face into the nape of her mother’s neck. “This is the best night of my whole life!”

“Your whole life? Wow, that’s something!” Sera laughed.

Sidney did a slow lap around the neutral zone to regain his composure. When he settled into position for the face-off, Tage Thompson remarked, “Cute kid”. His comment was met with an ice cold stare. Tage gulped and got into position only to have Sidney win the face-off decidedly.

Four Hours Later - Crosby House - Sewickley PA

Sidney carried Callie’s sleeping body up the stairs as Sera followed behind carrying Cole. He paused at the top of the stairs to allow Sera to kiss Callie’s forehead and whisper a prayer. Then they separated ways. He went to tuck Callie into bed while Sera went to breastfeed Cole for his final feed of the night.

After tucking her into her bed, Sidney knelt down beside it to gaze at her peaceful face. He pushed her hair out of her face and caressed her forehead with this thumb. “Best night ever,” he said to himself.

“That’s what I told Momma,” Callie answered although her eyes were still closed.

He paused before responding. He didn’t want to risk her fully waking up which would incite the wrath of a very tired wife. “Daddy?” she asked, “Were you so, so proud of me?”

“I’m always so, so proud of you Callie Girl,” he whispered.

“Were you surprised?” she yawned.

“Very” he grinned at the memory.

“Coach Sam said he picked me because I earned it- not because you are my dad,” she said sleepily.

“Of course you earned it, baby,” he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, “Now go to sleep and you can tell me more in the morning.”

“‘Kay,” she yawned again before rolling over. “Daddy?” she asked as he stood up straight, “Who is the luckiest Daddy ever?”

“Me, Baby Girl, Me,” he paused and responded.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I get to be Cole’s daddy and your daddy,” he smiled and headed to the door.

“Daddy?” she asked, causing him to roll his eyes with her obvious stalling tactics.

“Yes?” he sighed.

“Who is the luckiest girl in the whole wide world?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he answered, “Who?”

“Me - do you know why?”

“No, but I am sure you will tell me, Callie,” he said with a hint of impatience in his voice.

“Because I get to be your baby girl, Daddy. I get to be your baby girl and Momma’s baby girl,” she yawned again.

“Well, I guess then we are both the luckiest,” he smiled, “Now go to sleep.”

“I love you to the moon and back, Daddy.”

“I love you to the sun and back,” he responded as he walked out the door.

[christadeguchi]

do the pittsburgh penguins have the league's horniest locker room? perhaps.

bonus:

[ehghtyseven]

special little smiles for seth, taylor & michelle :)

[thatsrightice]

THE LEGEND OF BRADY’S CREW AND THEIR CRASH WAGON

The crash landing we see John Brady’s crew conduct in Part 1 of Masters of the Air was not their first. On Christmas Eve of 1942, Brady’s crew took off on a training mission but crash landed in the snowy mountains of Evanston, Wyoming due to inclement weather and a lack of gas. No one was injured thanks to Brady’s skillful flying (and Harry Crosby’s Scottish descent, according to the young woman who found them).

Afterward, the crew received a brand new B-17F, serial number 42-30071. Though officially titled “SKIPPER”, the Fort had immediately been given a name: “BRADY’S CRASH WAGON” in homage to the legend of their training accident.

Their second crash landing, the one we see in the show, actually occurred at an Air Depot in Warton on the east coast due to the landing gear being frozen. Their belly-landing damaged their aircraft so they were forced to take a train to Diss and then a truck to Thorpe Abbotts.

42-30071 “BRADY’S CRASH WAGON” would be repaired and sent to the 96th Bomb Group. It was irreparably damaged in another belly-landing on April 18, 1944 and scrapped.

[icedbatik]

[onyxsboxes]

The secret list of very serious (and sober) 100th's rules

The new chapter is available 🥳🥳🥳🥳, hope you like it

The secret list of very serious (and sober) 100th's rules (2529 words) by Amethyste_Blanche

Chapters: 2/2

Fandom: Masters of the Air (TV 2024)

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Relationships: Gale "Buck" Cleven/John Clarence "Bucky" Egan

Characters: Gale "Buck" Cleven, John Clarence "Bucky" Egan, Harry Crosby, Curtis Biddick, Marvin "Red" Bowman, Everett Ernest Blakely, John Brady (Masters of the Air), Bernard "Benny" DeMarco, Ground crew (Masters of the Air), Howard "Hambone" Hamilton, Joseph "Bubbles" Payne, David Friedkin, Ken Lemmons, Robert "Rosie" Rosenthal, Winifred "Pappy" Lewis, Meatball (Masters of the Air), Jack Kidd, Flesher (Masters of the Air), James Douglass (Masters of the Air), Ground Crew Members (Masters of the Air), Dye (Masters of the Air), Nash (Masters of the Air), 100th Crew Members (Masters of the Air), Speas (Masters of the Air), Ronald C. Bailey (Masters of the Air), John "Winks" Hermann (Masters of the Air), Dickie (Masters of the Air), Masters of the air

Additional Tags: Crack, Background Relationships, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence

Summary: To avoid any incidents, please follow the unofficial rules established at the 100th. If you're reading this, Colonel Harding, please forget it exists.  Or a guide to help new recruits settle into life at the 100th.

[krispyweiss]

Jim Gordon, Former Wrecking Crew, Derek and the Dominos Drummer Who Killed His Mother, Dead at 77

- “One of the saddest stories of the music business,” Leland Sklar says

Jim Gordon, the prolific session drummer credited with co-writing “Layla” and who was serving a prison sentence for killing his mother, has died in a California state-run medical facility, Rolling Stone magazine reports.

Gordon was 77 and reportedly died March 13 of natural causes.

“One of the saddest stories of the music business,” bassist Leland Sklar said of the drummer, who was diagnosed with schizophrenia after killing his mother in 1983.

Gordon is most-widely known for his association with Eric Clapton’s Derek and the Dominos and his disputed co-write of “Layla” - specifically the coda - which Bobby Whitlock said was written by Rita Coolidge.

Sklar has known Gordon since 1967 and “was always blown away by his creative and solid playing,” when they did studio sessions together.

“Then tragedy ensued and it was all over,” Sklar said. “RIP.”

As a freelance sideman and member of the Wrecking Crew, Gordon played on albums by the Beach Boys, George Harrison, Frank Zappa, Crosby, Stills and Nash, Steely Dan, Alice Cooper, Traffic and many others.

“May Jim Gordon rest in peace and love,” Todd Rundgren’s Spirit of Harmony Foundation said.

3/16/23

[zevred]

Good Friends

pining and in denial rosie is doing something to my brain chemistry

rosie rosenthal x gn!reader

wc; 699

Rosie likes to think he’s friends with everyone at Thorpe Abbott. He’s been with his crew for years and he makes an effort to befriend the new guys when they come in, even if they won’t be around for long. Even John Brady’s stopped making snide remarks, and Rosie swears the band has started playing more of the songs he likes.

He’s definitely friends with you. That’s what he says when Pappy elbows him in the ribs, grinning, and when Crosby wags his eyebrows over the rim of his glass. It’s just that you like to dance and Rosie’s usually the one to indulge you. He can’t control when the music slows down and he can’t help but pull you close because he’d never ruin the last song of the night for you.

Maybe he’s given you a ride or two on the handlebars of his bike, or when he’s conveniently forgotten his bike at home, he takes the time to walk you across base. He likes hearing your laugh and even during those late nights, your smile is radiant under the moonlight. He’s chased you through the rain and let you muss his water-logged curls. Rosie’s hands tense at his sides when he sees the hair plastered to your neck. He tells himself he’d do the same for any of his friends and brushes the wayward tendrils into place. He says goodnight but Rosie knows you’ll haunt his dreams. The curl of your lips is superimposed on the inside of his eyelids. Your whispered taunts linger, brushing up against the shell of his ear. Even the smell of you is stuck on his skin.

He does his best to scrub himself of you before each mission. Rosie knows there’s a job to be done and he hates that the thought of you might distract him. So, he uses extra aftershave the morning he flies and slicks his curls into submission. He doesn’t have time to think about his friends flying in other forts, certainly not enough time to think of you. There’s only him, his crew, and the mission. There’s no room in the plane for the ghost of you.

When he lands and interrogation is over, Crosby tells him you’ve been a live wire, on edge for hours up in Air Exec. Rosie aches to know you’ve been fretting, but when he sees you, he plasters on a cocky smile—the one that always has you rolling your eyes—and asks if you’ve been missing him.

You always look a little shaken, a little like a ghost when you see him again, but without fail you scoff and turn to walk away from him, allowing him to sling an arm around your shoulders and haul you into his side. You walk like that, hip to hip, and Rosie can almost feel your ribs folding, making room to interlace with his.

You stop outside the gear room, and the rest of Rosie’s crew is already inside, stripping out of their flysuits. It’s the two of you alone in the hallway and his name is a hoarse whisper on your lips. Rosie. He’s never Captain Rosenthal when it’s just the two of you. You called him Robert once, to accuse him of cheating in cards, and the aghast look on his face sent you into such a fit of laughter, the game of cards was abandoned. But when you say his name like that…

Rosie.

Your bodies are pressed close, near enough to share breath. You’re looking up at him with those pretty eyes of yours, cheeks flushed and—he shouldn’t notice but he does—your lips are bitten-red. He doesn’t need to hear your question to know he’ll say yes. You could ask him to fish down the moon and he’d steal it from the sky. Usually, you’re asking to see his plane or to swap sides at meals. There are some things, some things that make his breathing hitch, that Rosie wonders if you’ll ever ask. He could ask, step just an inch closer, but the question tangles in his throat and he repeats the same mantra he’s been saying for months.

You’re just friends. Good friends.

[obessedwithfictionalmen]

I'll come pick it up after pt.10

John Egan X Female! Reader

Sumarry: When Egan doesn't come back from a mission. His nurse reads the letter he left for her.

Warning: Sadness/ mention of death/ historical inaccuracies/ crying/ Swearing/ use of y/n/

Word count: 980 words.

When she saw that only one plane was coming back, her heart sank. Harry Crosby was next to her; he hadn’t gone up because he got promoted to a desk office. ‘’That’s it?’’ he breathed out. She didn’t respond, she was in shock, where was he? This was the plane of Major Robert Rosenthal, but the guys called him Rosie. Bucky didn’t come home, all the guys except Rosie’s crew didn’t make it. When she saw the look on the boys faces, it said it all. Lemmons was trying to get information. ‘’Anyone else?’’ he asked. Y/n snapped. ‘’Do you see anymore planes Lemmons?!’’ she pointed out, her voice breaking in the process. Luckly, Rosie’s crew only had one man injured, so she could let the girls handle it. While she was going to go get Bucky’s letter.

7 hours earlier

‘’Darling, listen to me, if something goes wrong – ‘’ Y/n cut him off, she didn’t want to hear what he had to say, especially if it concerned his death. She sook her head, tears rising in her eyes. ‘’Don’t say that Bucky, you’ll come back, you always do’’ she said. He took both of her hands and kissed them; it was hard for him too. ‘’Please, listen to me, I know you don’t want to hear what I’ve got to say. Please listen’’ he pleaded. A tear rolled down her face, she knew this mission was going to be different than the others. ‘’If somethings happen to me, I want you to go get the letter that I wrote for you. It’s under my pillow. Read it only if I don’t come back.’’ He was fighting the urge to cry himself, the idea of breaking her heart if he didn’t come back was eating him alive. ‘’Promise me, darling.’’ He said, looking in her eyes. She avoided eye contact, he’d seen her cry before, but it wasn’t because of him. Now, she might lose him, and it was breaking her heart. ‘’I promise, but promise you’ll do everything to get back to me’’ she sobbed. ‘’I promise’’ he said. They hugged for what felt like hours, she sobbed in his arms, he cried in silence.

Now

Harry Crosby accompanied her to Bucky’s bed; he was kind of a moral support and he had to make sure she knew where his bed was. ‘’Do you want me to leave?’’ he asked her. ‘’No, but can I have privacy?’’ she said, louder than a whisper. He nodded and waited for her outside. She slipped her hand under his pillow and saw the envelope with her name written on in. She took a shaky breath before opening the letter.

My dear Y/n,

If you’re reading this, something went wrong. I’m either dead or a war prisoner. I’m sorry for not coming back, darling, I know I promised you to. I want you to know that I love you more than anything in the world. The second I laid my eyes on you; I knew that I was head over heels in love with you. Meeting you was like listening to a song for the first time, and knowing it was going to be my favorite. It’s not every day you ask your co-pilot to punch you for a girl. I was too scared to tell you that I love you or ask you to be my girl, even though I think it was clear that you were mine. I loved being with you. We had a way of being quiet together, like the silence between us was enough to say everything, like in your office the other day. Y/n, if I’m dead, I want you to know that my last thought was of you, and the beautiful night we spent together, that’s the night I knew that I wanted to have you in my life. If I’m in a prisoner’s camp, trust me, I’m already planning my escape to come back to you. In the envelope, you’ll find my necklace. I want you to have it, it looked better on you anyway, you’ll also find a ring, it was my grandmother’s. She gave it to me one day, saying I should give it to the girl that I’m sure to marry, and that’s you. So, if I come back, we’ll get married, and if I don’t come back, you have the ring anyway, because I want to marry you. Take care of Meatball for me. I love you, darling, you're all I wanted love to be.

Forever yours, John ‘Bucky’ Egan.

Y/n whipped her tears as she folded the letter again, she looked inside the envelope, seeing his necklace and the ring. She put the chain round her neck and the ring on her ring finger. It was a simple gold ring, with a pearl on top of it. It was really pretty, and it fitted her perfectly. In her heart, she hoped he was in a camp, so he could come back to her, her heart couldn’t bear the idea of him dead. Harry Crosby heard her wailing, his heart broke, she was usually a happy person, she was a real sunshine, hearing her cry like this made him sad. When he entered the room, she was lying on her side, hugging his pillow, it smelled like him. She was sobbing till the point that her body started to shake. He sat on the bed in front of her. ‘’I couldn’t tell him that I love him’’ she sobbed. ‘’I’m sure he knew it’’ he whispered.

He was in fucking Germany! Surrounded by water and plants, with two men chasing him with guns. But he must live, for her, he promised her he was going to get back, he will. He has to marry her; he can’t let her alone. That’s what he was telling himself: Get back to Y/n. He had too.

Part 11⬇️

[starshine-hockey-girl]

Crosby Crew blurb- Celebrating Uncle Geno

This is just a little blurb that was quickly.

Summary: Callie helps out her best friend, Nikita

@pattiemac1 @penstxgal1968 @fallinallincurls

:readmore:

Sera smiled as she watched Callie bounce up and down on her feet. The petite brunette craned her neck as she looked at the elevator lobby in search of her best friend, Nikita Malkin. "Momma, when are they coming down? We are going to be late. You know Daddy doesn't like it when we are late to warm up," she whined.

Sera replied sweetly, "Callie Girl, Daddy doesn't know that we are here. It's a surprise, remember? Nikita and Anna will be down in just a minute. We will get there in plenty of time."

Callie crossed her arms and pouted, "But Daddy said they were doing the special warm-up for Uncle Geno. I want to see it."

"No pouting, Callie Girl," Sera chided. Cole wiggled in the baby carrier, and Sera turned her attention to the adorable baby boy, Cole.

"Callie! Callie" Nikita called as he ran across the lobby to greet his beloved friend. They embraced in a tight hug.

"You're late, Niki! We are going to miss warm-ups," Callie said sternly. Nikita shrugged and pointed to his mother. Sera rolled her eyes and herded the two youngsters into the waiting car.

The foursome were greeted by Penguins staff as they exited the car in the bowels of United Center. They were led to the tunnel to observe warm-ups. Both broke out in giggles as the team started mimicking Geno's unorthodox stretching routine. As usual, Nikita observed in quiet focus while Callie chattered away. "Look, Momma, Daddy's butt is in the air. I see Daddy's butt. That is so silly!" She looked over and observed Nikita's pensive expression. She asked quietly, "Are you nervous?" Nikita kept his eyes on the ice and shook his head no. "I think you will do great," Callie encouraged.

Sera saw the signal for the group to hide away in a room while the team made their way off the ice. "Come on kids- don't let your dads see you," she warned. The duo ran down the tunnel and hid behind the door. The sounds of the team could be heard in their hiding spots. Rounds of laughter preceded the sounds of Sully giving his pregame speech. Nikita was given the written line-up. Together, Callie and he read over the list. Callie helped him practice each name until he became comfortable. They were given the signal to move to the hall. Suddenly, Nikita felt the weight of the moment and looked to his mother for comfort. His hands shook slightly as he looked over the list again. Callie stood next to him, "Don't worry Niki." He nodded his head unconvincing. "Do you want me to go in with you? I can stand with you while you read it," she suggested.

"No, I can do it by myself," he answered.

Sully announced, "we have a special guest to read the line-up." Nikita's head popped up, but he didn't move. Callie stepped forward and held out her hand. "Come on Niki, let's do it together," she said cheerfully. He took her hand and together they walked into the room to the cheers of the team. Callie gave a quick, shy wave to her very surprised father. Nikita began to read the list and Callie listened intently.

Sidney noticed the death grip that Nikita had on Callie's hand and surmised that Callie's presence was a last minute change to the original plan. Then he turned to watch Geno watch his son with pride. Sidney felt a lump form in his throat as he watched the normally stoic Russian overcome with emotion. When Nikita finished reading the list, he walked to give his father multiple hugs. Callie smiled sweetly and glanced over at her father. Sidney held his arms open to his precious daughter, and she shook her head no firmly. "Daddy, I am only here for Niki. You need to be brave," she chastised him. He laughed to himself. She took her friend duties very seriously. Nikita walked back to Callie. She grabbed his hand and whispered as they walked, "That was very brave, Niki. You got all of the names right." They were almost to the door when Callie stopped suddenly. She looked at Nikita, "I'll be right back." She turned and ran to her father. His arms went wide as he scooped her into his arms. "Daddy, I am sorry I didn't hug you earlier. Niki needed me." she whispered.

Sidney squeezed, "I understand, Callie Girl. I am proud that you were a good friend to him. This is the best surprise for me."

Callie asked, "Will you score a goal for Uncle Geno tonight?"

Sidney smiled, "I'll try."

Callie kissed his cheek. "Okay Daddy, what do you need to do tonight?" She began their pregame ritual.

Sidney gulped and responded, "Listen the first time, do my best and have fun!"

She turned to walk away, "Love you Daddy."

Sidney called back, "Love you, Callie Girl!" She veered to her left and approached Geno. He held out his arms, and she gave him a big hug. "Love you, Uncle Geno!" she laughed before running back to Nikita. They grabbed hands before they waved back to their fathers. Sidney and Geno exchanged a look and a smile as they watched their children walk out of the room together.

[ranger-elizabeth]

what about “you’re burning up. Why didn’t you say anything?” from the h/c list — maybe gale bejng unused to having someone to care for him? :)

Thank you for the ask anon! I had fun with this one. We all love some Gale childhood trauma h/c don't we? Hope you enjoy!

Prompt: "You're burning up. Why didn't you say anything?"

Word count: 1057

John breathes a sigh of relief when Our Baby appears in the sky. His least favorite thing about being Air Executive, aside from sending Gale and the men on missions, is the agonizing wait. Each time, dread churns in his stomach as he paces for hours, his mind coming up with every worst case what if scenario. 

Once the forts are accounted for, he races down the runway in the jeep to meet Gale at his plane. As he pulls up, Gale is the last one of his crew to drop out of his fort onto the tarmac.

“You boys alright?” John calls out, greeted by several affirmations before the crew piles into the waiting convoy.

Now just the two of them, Gale joins him in the jeep. He looks particularly windswept after this mission, cheeks flushed and hair tousled. John gives his knee a brief squeeze and notices it trembling. 

“Hey, you okay?” John asks softly. “Rough mission?”

Gale shakes his head. “I’m alright. Just adrenaline, you know how it is.”

John’s not entirely convinced, but doesn’t press. Instead, he drives Gale to the interrogation center, where he drops him off with a promise to see him at dinner. 

At dinner, John watches anxiously as Gale pushes his food around on his plate rather than eating it. His hand shakes ever so slightly where it grips his fork. Something had clearly unsettled him on the mission, though everything seemed smooth from the number of returning forts and the interrogation.

Feeling helpless to comfort him in the middle of the mess hall, John finds Gale’s foot under the table, hooking his own around it. Gale looks up, offering a small smile. For now, that’s enough.

Later that evening, after the men who flew have had a chance to get cleaned up, the crews are in the barracks getting ready to head to the officers club for a much needed night of relaxation. John notices Gale pulling on a jacket over his uniform despite the warmth of the night. 

“You cold, Buck?” he asks quietly, trying to keep their conversation private despite the number of men milling around.

“A bit,” Gale admits, sitting down on his rack to wait for everyone to finish getting ready.

Mirroring him on his own bunk, John observes Gale closely. His cheeks are still flushed, not just from the windburn but from something deeper. His face is unusually pale, and he’s still shaking a little. No, shivering. Shivering, because he’s cold and the goddamn idiot is sick.

Pressing the back of his hand to Gale’s forehead, John winces. “You’re burning up, Buck. Why didn’t you say anything?” 

Gale just shrugs, embarrassed, fiddling with a loose thread on his blanket.

John glances around decidedly, finding the closest person in their vicinity. “Hey, Croz,” he calls out, louder. “You guys go ahead without us. Buck and I have things to take care of.”

Crosby looks puzzled but doesn’t question it. “Alright, Major.”

Turning back to Gale, John lowers his voice once more. “Wait here. And change into something more comfortable, okay? I’ll be back in a few minutes.” 

Heading out of the barracks, John’s more thankful than ever for the bike he won when he first got to Thorpe Abbotts, because it means he can get what he needs and get back to Gale much faster now.

When he returns to the barracks, John finds them now mercifully empty aside from Gale, who sits exactly where John had left him, except now dressed in his sleep clothes. Gale looks up  curiously. “Where did you go?”

“Got you some water and medicine. Figured you’d prefer this to the sick bay.”

Gale nods gratefully. “Thanks, Bucky.”

John urges Gale to settle against the headboard, handing over the supplies before taking the blanket off his own bed and adding it atop Gale’s own. Satisfied, he sits on the edge of Gale’s rack and takes his hand in his. It’s clammy from his fever, but John doesn’t mind. 

“You don’t have to stay. You can go to the club with the rest of the guys, I’ll be fine,” Gale offers weakly. John shakes his head in dismissal. Like hell John is leaving him. He doubts Gale actually wants him to leave anyway, despite the offer, all too familiar with his self-sacrificing nature.

“You should’ve told me you were sick. Were you feeling bad before take off this morning?” John implores softly. 

“Could’ve been worse,” Gale responds, not meeting John’s eyes.

So that’s a yes, then. John loves Gale to death, but frustration wells up in his chest at the admission. “Yeah, it could have been worse. You could’ve fucking died trying to fly a plane with this kind of fever.”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth, Gale immediately looking guilty, so he backtracks, brushing his thumb soothingly across the back of Gale’s hand. “Hey, I’m sorry, I’m not upset with you. I just worry. I wish you would’ve told me.”

“I’m sorry,” Gale whispers. “I didn’t want to be a bother.”

“Why would it be a bother? It’s not your fault you’re sick.”

Gale pauses for a moment, contemplative, before speaking. “My Ma always thought it was,” he confesses bitterly.

John’s heart breaks a little. John guesses Gale has never had someone take care of him while he was sick. He’s probably used to just toughing it out, which was why he assumed he had to do the same today.

“You can always tell me,” John says, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Gale’s lips, who pushes him away softly. 

“Bucky, stop,” Gale murmurs. “You’ll get sick.”

John rolls his eyes. “Don’t care,” he returns, before leaning in once more, this time just brushing his lips against Gale’s still too warm forehead. “Come on, lay down.”

Gale complies, shuffling a bit to get comfortable. Once he settles, John pulls the blankets up around his chin, effectively tucking him in. A small smile breaks on Gale’s lips where he looks up at Bucky with tired eyes. John begins to card his fingers through his hair, every now and then stopping to gently scratch at his scalp. 

Gale hums, his eyes falling shut. “Feels good.” 

“Good,” John says, affectionately. “Get some sleep, okay?” 

“You’ll stay?” Gale murmurs sleepily. 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[middlingmay]

I am, how you say, ill as fuck.

And I would love some fluffy, fluffy, fluff whilst I perish.

(Don't worry, there's no actual perishing. I am also very dramatic when I'm ill, so...)

So what's like your one, fluffiest headcanon for buck x bucky?

Here's some of mine:

Buck needs to know where Bucky is. If he doesn't see him, and John hasn't told him where he's gone, his heart trips in his chest. The rest of the 100th have clocked this and casually drop it into conversation if they've seen Bucky.

Buck also knows Bucky is a natural caregiver (like it's a secret), so he always makes sure to tell John if he sees any of the boys needing some help: Crosby's not sleeping again; Curt misses his ma; Jack is feeling overwhelmed, etc. John goes out of his way to make them feel better; whatever they need, they get. John finds a way.

But Bucky has a real soft spot for Ken - the youngest in the 100th and the best ground crew chief in the air force (he'd bet). He's always checking on him, making sure no one's giving him a hard time. Ken maybe thinks John is teasing him or doesn't think he can do his job, but Buck tells him one day, "He's just looking out for you; he's taken a likin' to ya, son", and Ken blushes like crazy and feels real flattered.

I would love to hear some of yours!

[thatsrightice]

Rosie’s Riveters was the only aircraft to return from the mission to Münster on October 10, 1943 and it was no easy task getting home.

Blakely’s crew in 42-3393 Just-a-Snappin’ had to go through something similar on their return from the mission to Bremen as they had to drop out of formation and make the trek home by themselves. I think Blakely and the rest of his crew deserve a little bit of recognition too;

Bremen had the worst flak they’d ever seen. "There was so much solid flak, you could almost slice it like cake” said pilot Ev Blakely

Flak destroys the number four engine, left elevator, and stabilizer as well as cracks the nose sending shrapnel into the Bombardier and Navigator

They catch on fire, but their electrics are gone so they can’t use the fire extinguisher. The only way to put it out is to drop out of formation and head straight into a steep dive in hopes it blows it out, which Ev Blakely is miraculously able to do

Have to limp back well over 200 miles to get to base with a max speed of 120 mph (at 100 mph the aircraft would stall and drop out of the sky) and immediately watch the only other Fort near them explode in a ball of flames thanks to enemy fighters

Smashed shortwave radio forced Forky, the radio operator, to send out an SOS by touching two wires together and praying

They were a sitting duck for the enemy fighters as they limped back to base at a mere 120 mph (at 100 mph the aircraft would stall and drop out of the sky)

Compass was stuck so Crosby had to navigate using the position of the sun with near-constant course corrections

They are credited with taking out at least 11 enemy fighters on their way home but not without their own injuries. Three of their crew are seriously wounded, one has a three-inch hole in their stomach, half of one’s face was scalped, and the other had the entire lower half of their body crushed and bleeding

You know engine number four? Yeah, it’s on fire again so time for another dive and it’s a miracle it went out again

But now they’ve got to salvo literally everything out into the channel from the spent cartridges laying on the floor to their woolen flying clothes, including their boots

Their dinghies were shot to pieces by the German fighters (and Crosby accidentally pulled the emergency handle on the hatch in the nose) so landing in the water ain’t an option

Everyone who’s not flying goes to help the wounded, packing their wounds with their open parachutes and warming up the frozen morphine applicators (?) in their mouths

Now they’re coming in for a crash landing at a dummy UK base with literally zero control surfaces so Blakely and Kidd were piloting using pure strength. The rest of the crew go back to the waist and hold onto the injured men, like hold them to their chests, so that they aren’t further injured in the landing

Their brakes go out as they land and they’re sent careening into the only tree in the entire airfield, crushing the nose of the aircraft and sending tree branches and leaves through all of the windows and compartments (click for pics)

They just kind of sat there? Until someone came and was like “hey you need help?”

They want nothing more than something to eat but instead are stuck watching some officer count 1200 holes (no, not 800) before giving up because there’s too many

So now they had a hour long drive back to base, those who didn’t get sent to the hospital that is, only for the mess halls to be closed, all their stuff locked up in storage, and everyone looking at them like they were ghosts. But on the bright side, every man in the o-club tried to hand their drinks to them

Add-on:

In the end, 7 of her crew were injured and one fatally so. Most of the men would never fly another mission.

[sweaterkittensahoy]

The humanitarian mission in the final episode of Masters of the Air is one of the most beautiful character moments in the whole show.

Here's Buck Cleven, one of the great leaders of the Bloody 100th. He literally got away from a POW death march because his best friend in the world made him go first.

Here's Rosie Rosenthal, one of the great leaders of the Bloody 100th. On his second mission, he saw Buck Cleven go down. On his third, he saw Bucky Egan go down. They weren't there as he became the leader of the Bloody 100th, but Buck Cleven sees it in him without question.

Here's Harry Crosby, packing fresh oranges into parachute bags. Sick on every mission he ever flew as a navigator, but for this humanitarian mission, his stomach is steady. He has no problems.

Here's James Douglass, bombardier who has been fucking through it. He finally gets to use that top-secret scope to drop help, not harm.

Here's Ken Lemmons, the brightest and best of the ground crew, who has never been on a plane, but he's kept them in the air all this time. His first flight is one of hope and love and beauty.

And here's Bucky Egan, who made it back to base after barely making it through his time as a POW, who got his first taste of being back in the air by getting that fucking Nazi flag off the pole and running up that small and tattered but intact American flag. And he's on the goddamn radio to welcome Buck Cleven back from a raid to help their allies.

[rosiesriiveters]

Keep thinking of Rosie allowing everyone else to experience the trauma of war around him in any way they need to. Whether it be after listening to his crew member choke through the Munster story, reaching a hand out to comfort him, making sure the replacements are all settled and feel comfortable with him - establishing that he's someone who can be trusted with any issues - and listening to Crosby tell him he's scared he's becoming a monster and reassuring him, and yet refuses to give himself the same grace.

Thinking about how he doesn't tell Crosby about what he saw after he was shot down, what he witnessed in that camp. He's never really the one telling any stories in the series. He listens and watches, lets others say whatever they need to, all the while keeping his cards close to his chest.

Thinking about Rosie smiling while watching his crew and the other airmen enjoying themselves at the flak house, and yet not allowing himself the same enjoyment. Thinking about how the doctor at the flak house got Rosie to look after himself only when he framed it that looking after himself is looking after his crew.

Thinking about Rosie re-upping, choking slightly on his words as he explains he can't bare the thought of sending some rookie in his place to only get himself and his crew killed.

He won't give himself the grace or patience he deserves, but by god he'll take care of everyone around him.

[wexhappyxfew]

very thought of you

(a/n): judy rybinski, my sweet sunshine child, you deserve the very best for all the emotion you hold in and try to hide. enjoy your dance with rosie rosenthal girl <3333

She found that nights after missions, the flying club was usually left pretty quiet.

Of course, there was soft jazz from the corner, a few people sat around talking quietly with one another, sharing drinks, or tired conversation, but it was never alive with life like it had been in the summer - when people had still been fairly filled with something more than life.

Judy sat at the table her and Bessie had occupied a few times when people would be on the dance floor, twisting and twirling one another like it was the night of their lives. She always would watch - the airmen with a lady from town or a nurse or a Clubmobile girl, the smiles on their faces, their giggles, the whispering and exchanging of jokes or conversation there in a tightly-held embrace.

She always wondered what that would be like - wrapped in the arms of someone, to dance with them, gaze into their eyes, and just for once, have it just be the two of them. Whoever that other person may be.

A few of the girls hadn't bothered to come tonight - some of the recent happenings were seemingly getting to everyone. With the fresh losses of Major Cleven, Major Egan, Brady, DeMarco, their crews and just about every other notable face they'd flown in here with, some people were doing better than others. Some just wanted to be left alone, others came to have a drink, make conversation, some sat and read or smoked or stared at the sky.

Judy had to get out of the barracks and be in some fresher air with some of the men - Dougie usually was always a good face to have around, Ev Blakely a comforting shoulder. Crosby was usually around, but he wasn't taking Bubbles' loss too well either. They seemed to all be picking up the pieces of what was lost. And it wasn't going entirely too well.

Judy sat with a Coca-Cola, straying a bit from the idea of a beer - she just couldn't enjoy the thought of a beer as she sat alone at a table, staring out towards an empty dance floor. The idea was almost haunting - enjoy beer, while Major Cleven and Major Egan were MIA or dead? The thought was almost too much.

So, she sat alone with her Coca-Cola and enjoyed the quiet hum of the music and the half-written letter to her siblings and parents back home in North Carolina and was content with that for the minute.

Leaning her head on her upbent arm against the table, she glanced towards the entrance and was surprised to see Lieutenant Rosenthal coming through the doorway, removing his peak cap, a small smile on his face, tired eyes wandering the group, before moving towards the bar. His fort had taken some pretty hard hits after the mission today - the first back from R&R, which had been quite enjoyable as it was just his crew and Silver Bullets. The few conversations they'd had there hadn't been much. Just in passing, or he'd offer her a wave if he was on the grounds. But he'd been in another world it seemed, his head in the sky, body on the ground.

And so now, seeing him after all their first missions back, she would've thought he'd be out with his fort or asleep.

Seeing him here, she smiled a bit.

Judy glanced back to the empty dance floor, a soft crooning Ella Fitzgerald song above her as she let the music take her a bit.

"I was beginning to wonder if any of the Silver Bullets were going to make it out tonight," she heard a voice say and she slowly glanced upward to find Lieutenant Rosenthal there, a Coca-Cola in his own hand and a smile on his face, "mind if I join you?" Judy froze for a moment, her brain rewiring it felt, before she nodded and sat up a bit.

"Of course, sir." she said, "Please." She nodded to the other seat at the table and he sent her a quiet gaze, before settling down in the chair and turning his head her way.

"You doing okay?" he asked her, "I've been meaning to check in on Annie, but….." Judy watched him for a moment, his comforting eyes something that drew her in that very instance and it made her feel like she could say anything in her mind, right to him and he'd understand.

"I'm okay," Judy said quietly, "just….had to take time out of the barracks. Lieutenant Bradshaw's…..she's….." Judy's words trailed off in a pathetic attempt to cover up what Annie was really feeling. The dark circles under her eyes, the sleepless nights, the night-wandering, the mornings they'd find Annie outside, sat on the step, out-cold from exhaustion.

"It's okay," Rosenthal said, "I'll talk to her later. I know people aren't feeling the best in the past few weeks. What about you?" Judy looked to him and offered an impromptu smile his way.

"Alright, sir." Judy said, and then nodded, "Best I can. I guess you could say, I'm trying to keep going, keep smiling….for the others." Rosenthal smiled and lightly tilted his head toward her.

"I think that'll be good for everyone in the long run," he told her, but then leaned against the table and lowered his voice, "but, truly, you don't have to do that for me." Judy stared at him, her heart pounding, her emotion building somewhere in her head, behind her eyes and she saw that look on his face and knew that things were coming to a head.

"You okay?" he asked her quietly, and that's when her eyes welled with tears.

There was something about people like Major Cleven, Major Egan, Captain Faulkner, Lieutenant Bradshaw and now…Lieutenant Rosenthal. They were people Judy trusted with her life, because they were all some of the best leaders the 100th would ever see in her mind. And they were people that cared about their group, their men, their fort, people that wanted the best and would lead the best they could for the bettering of the group.

And usually, they could manage to get Judy's water-works going.

Because they saw her in a way others didn't. They cared. She put up her walls, put on the smile, and continued like that. Day in and day out. And without fail, those walls would get battered and bruised, and she'd be standing behind it, barely keeping it up, tears in her eyes, limbs shaking. And that's how she was right now - like Lieutenant Rosenthal could see right through to her.

Judy watched him with tears in her eyes. Then, she watched his hand slowly reach forward and grasp one of her own, lazily laid upon the table, his larger hand encasing her own in a warm, consoling embrace. She sniffled and watched through blurred eyes as his thumb gently brushed against her rough skin - between the gloves and the machinery in the ball turret, her hands had seemingly taken the brunt of it all.

Yet, his touch was present and there and grounding her in a way in that very moment that nothing else seemed to be. She wished she was stronger than this sometimes. But maybe she'd been strong for too long. Something in her head told her this didn't mean anything - his touch, him looking at her like that - but then the tiny voice in her head said something else, something deeper. That it meant everything.

"Here," he said, reaching into his pocket and producing a handkerchief.

"Thank you, sir," she said, taking it, through a rather tearful admission of thanks and he smiled at her and grasped her hand a bit tighter.

"No need to thank me," he said, "and….it's just Robert…or Rosie. You don't need to call me sir." She stared at him, and then managed a slight smile and nodded. She wiped at her eyes and then let out a weak sigh and looked to him. He watched her tentatively as she tightly grasped the handkerchief, and stared at their hands there on the table.

It was quiet for a few moments, him staring at her, Judy looking at their hands, a quiet reprieve settled between the two, the two of them letting the other take a moment to just be. 'The Very Thought of You' by Billie Holiday slowly moved through the quiet bubble of noise above them and she glanced towards Rosie who was sat quietly, staring now at their hands, his frame more relaxed, more silent, but still there.

"Hey, Rosie?" she asked him quietly - he looked up at her and offered a small smile.

"What's up?"

"Do you want to dance?" she asked him - it came out quicker than she had wanted, and sounded a bit more like a jumble of words, and she could feel a bit of a flush crawling up her neck. But then Rosie smiled.

"I'd love to," he said, "here." He slowly stood, taking her hand and came around the table, before taking her other hand and pulling her to her feet. For a moment, they watched one another, before he backed towards the open dance floor, Billie Holiday's voice soft and nostalgic over the speakers, as they stood in the center of the floor.

And slowly, Rosie's hands traveled to her waist, his other hand lacing into her own, as he brought her closer to him. Judy looked up into his eyes, his presence so close to her own - God, his aftershave was overwhelming every portion of her being by this point and she wasn't complaining. Judy could hardly get her arm around his neck and instead rested her hand on his arm and then looked up at him.

"I'm sorry for my sweaty hands." she said, the first thought to come to her mind. And Rosie let out a laugh, and shook his head and brought his lips to her ear.

"It's alright," he said quietly, "you ever dance before?" Judy's heart was racing at the sudden closeness and let out a shaky breath. She turned her head the slightest bit to his ear and licked her lips.

"Not like this." she whispered back. Rosie laughed, his warm breath on her shoulder as he slowly swayed them back and forth, taking the lead just as she would've wanted. This was unfamiliar territory to her, every bit of this. But it felt comfortable to be in his embrace, having his touch and presence so close to her own.

"Just follow my lead." he said quietly to her. She was so much shorter than him, it was almost comical - a ball-turret gunner and a pilot who was nearly a full head or two taller than her - she could barely keep on her tip-toes. But, he guided her softly in the middle of the floor, as the song continued, the two of them wrapped in each other's warmth there in the middle of the floor.

And as the song came to a close, Judy found her arms wrapping around his center, her chest pressed in his chest, her head turned into him, listening to the soft thrum of his heart, the gentle thump-thump-thump the comfort that kept her grounded there right now. His hand found its way to her back, the other lingering between her shoulder and the lower portion of her head.

She felt so comfortable curled against him, like she were able to hide from the world for a bit in the middle of this war. Smelling his cologne, feeling his hands holding her there against him, listening to his heart deep within his chest.

When the song had finished, and it melted into a Frank Sinatra piece - something Marianne would've appreciated - she found herself tightly bound in his embrace, not wanting to let go of this block of comfort she was now holding onto so tightly. And he seemed far from letting go, rubbing his hand up and down her back, pulling a few strands of her loose hair from her braids from the right side of her face and circling a thumb on the upper portion of her shoulder.

They stood there for a few moments, Judy simply soaking in this feeling - him standing there, her curled against him. Her eyes welled with tears when she seemed to come to it - this feeling. Being here with him. Rosie letting her just be like this. She was so tired, drained and worn down - everything about her had been exhausted to an extent where she was dumb. And Rosie's warmth seemed to be melting every bit of that about her.

"Thank you." Judy whispered just quietly enough for Rosie to hear her, "Thank you so much." Rosie chuckled, the soft rumble in his chest, making his heartbeat speed up a bit, which made her smile as he rubbed her back a bit more comfortingly than he had previously. She could tell he was smiling when he spoke.

"Didn't know you were a Billie Holiday fan." he said quietly, "I should've asked what you liked." Judy laughed slightly, blinking away some of the tears and leaned back a bit to look up at him and was met with his fully, rosy-cheeked face watching her, his eyes exuding nothing but what felt like…..damn-near love in her own eyes as he watched her.

"Billie Holiday, Ella Fitzgerald, Doris Day…." she said quietly, "Ma's a big fan of them. What about you, though - heard you were an Artie Shaw type of guy - big band. Makes sense." Rosie let out a laugh that was music to her ears and nodded.

"Big Artie Shaw fan," he said, "guess stuff gets around." Judy laughed and nodded.

"Marianne knows a whole lot more than we credit her for." Judy said and Rosie smiled at her, this silent unspoken message between them saying a whole lot more than whatever words could bargain for - finding comfort in someone else who was going through this hellish war just like you were. It was something that you carried closer to you more than anything else.

Judy smiled up at him, and the quiet look on his face was something you couldn't replicate, this intense focus simply on her, watching her every move, concealing yet telling all at once. Her cheeks felt like they were completely flaming now as he watched her, but she couldn't look away from his gaze.

But then Judy, out of the pureness of her heart, stood to her tip-toes and pulled him into a hug, where his arms enveloped her and they held each other there for a moment in time. A hug meant a thousand words more than anything else in that moment.