#mota drabble

[heretoobsessstuff]

what took you so long?

A tender moment between john and gale in stalag, written for mota's 1 year anniversary and the beginning of the way they consumed my life lol.

John woke up one night to find Gale in his space.

*

It wasn’t unusual for Gale to hover nearby now. To watch him carefully when he thought John was sleeping. To trace his broken eye socket tenderly before sighing and retiring to his own bunk. But this was different.

Gale had been restless all evening. John had noticed the way he kept fidgeting, the way he looked over at John more than once as if he wanted to say something but he never did.

John hadn’t pressed. He knew Gale and he knew pressuring him would end up doing the exact opposite of drawing him out of his shell. He let Gale sit in his usual spot near the bunk and pretended not to notice how he stayed there longer than necessary, even when the lights were out and everyone else had gone to sleep. John closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come. Eventually, Gale had gone to bed as well.

Or so John thought.

Now, as John blinked blearily in the dark of the night, he realized Gale wasn’t in his own bunk.

He was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, back pressed lightly against the edge of John’s mattress.

This was it. John took a slow breath. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Gale didn’t startle.

Didn’t move.

He just exhaled quietly. “No.”

John shifted up onto his elbows, watching him. “Why are you down there?”

A beat.

Then, soft, hesitant..

“…I wanted to be close.”

John felt something in his chest ache.

He reached out, slow and deliberate, brushing his knuckles against Gale’s shoulder. “Come up here.”

Gale hesitated.

Then, carefully, deliberately, he moved.

John barely had time to shift before Gale was easing into the bed beside him gingerly, not quite touching, but close enough that John could feel his warmth and the slight shake of his limbs.

Gale let out a slow breath, his fingers twitching slightly against the blankets.

John watched him carefully. Then, quietly he whispered 

“Come here.”

Gale shivered. Eyeing John for a second before finally, he gave in.

He shifted closer, pressing into John’s side, his head tilting just slightly toward him.

John let out a slow breath, moving his head to rest lightly against Gale’s. “You okay?”

Gale swallowed.

“…I think so.”

John let his hand trace over Gale’s wrist, grounding. He felt Gale exhale, leaning into him a little more.

And John knew.

Gale wasn’t just letting himself be close.

He was asking for it. Not in words, but in ways he knew John understood. In ways John had learned about Gale over years of knowing him.

John could feel it, the way he was right there, close enough that he could reach for him easily, pull him close enough that John could feel the heat of him, but still holding back.

Still keeping that last bit of distance.

And John had let him. For weeks, he had let Gale take his time, let him hover just close enough, let him almost reach for him but never quite. He had been patient even though patience was never his forte. But now that Gale was here, now that he was looking at John like he wanted something but didn’t know if he was allowed to have it, John wasn’t waiting anymore.

“Come here.”

Gale inhaled sharply.

John didn’t move.

Didn’t pull him in.

Didn’t force it.

He just offered.

And this time Gale took it.

He moved slowly at first, hesitant, like he still wasn’t sure if he should. But the second John reached for him, really reached, with both arms, steady and certain, Gale let out a shaky breath and melted.

John had been holding himself back for weeks.

Now, finally, he didn’t have to.

His arms wrapped around Gale, solid and unshaking, pulling him in, pressing him against his chest the way he had wanted to all those long nights when Gale had been too far away. Nights when he wasn’t even sure if he’d ever feel Gale again.

Gale didn’t resist.

Didn’t tense.

Didn’t hold himself back.

He just went.

Went into John’s space, into John’s arms, like he had been waiting for this just as much as John had. His body eased against him, his weight pressing fully into John, like he trusted him to hold him up, to keep him steady.

John exhaled slowly, one hand smoothing over Gale’s back, the other pressing warm and steady between his shoulder blades.

He felt Gale shudder and he knew it wasn’t from pain or exhaustion. It was from relief.

John squeezed his eyes shut, breathing him in.

Finally.

Finally, finally.

His hand moved up slowly, brushing against the back of Gale’s neck. Touching the blond baby hairs tenderly. His voice was low, warm. 

“What took you so long?”

Gale let out a soft, breathless sound, half a laugh, half a sigh.

Then, muffled against John’s blouse,

“I didn’t know if I could.”

John pulled back just enough to see his face. “And now?”

Gale swallowed, his fingers curling loosely in the fabric of John’s shirt. “Now I don’t want to stop.”

John’s chest ached.

He cupped the side of Gale’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “Then don’t.”

Gale inhaled shakily. His eyes were softer now. Still tired, still carrying everything he had been holding onto, but softer. More himself.

John tilted his forehead against Gale’s, voice quiet. “I wanted to give you space”

Gale’s breath caught. “I know John” a pause “don’t want space anymmore” 

John tightened his arms around him. “then stay right here.”

Gale sighed, exhaling long and slow, pressing himself closer. 

And John just held him.

Held him the way he had wanted to for so long.

Held him the way he needed to.

Held him until Gale finally, finally let go of the distance between them.

over the past few weeks my beloved moots @joeyalohadream @middlingmay @onyxsboxes @trekkiehood and @stars-remain2 have tagged me in last line tags and word finding games. i just wanted to say i appreciate u guys thinking abt little old me sm and i hope this makes up for those <3

[buckysegan]

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration - Part three.

Summary: The letters back and forth between our loves through the rest of the war. Word Count: 2.1K A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me, do i know how long the letters took? not a clue. but google gave us a good guess. john egan how i miss you, i need your love so here i give you mine. Part two link.

Dear Major Egan,

I'm delighted to hear I'm with you. I hope you know, that you've been with me too. It's rather insane to me if I think about it too much, just how much I've thought about you in the time that I've waited for your letters. Part of me was worried that you would think I was a little crazy righting to a man I didn't know and an even bigger part of me was worried my letters would reach you too late, but I'm glad you were happy to hear from me.

I don't mind that you're a simple guy, in fact I think I like that, then I won't have to worry about impressing you whilst we write back and forth I can just say what comes to mind. I like to think that I laugh quite easily myself, laughter is free right? And right now I think we could all use a little laughter in the world. I'll tell you my favorite song next and then you can tell me yours, I love you are my sunshine, it warms something in my chest whenever it comes on, I just can't help but smile you know? Your turn John!

I wish I could know exactly where you are, then I could know if you were some place safe but I'll settle for knowing you're still out there. As for me, I'm in Washington, Redmond to be more precise, is that anywhere near where you're from? I'd like to meet you very much Major.

With all my anticipation, excitement and continued adoration,

A friend from home x

Dear Darling,

That's what the boys have been calling you ever since your second letter arrived and given I don't know your name, that's what I decided to roll with. I hope that's alright.

I have no idea how your letters keep finding me at the exact right time, it's like fate keeps leaving it till it knows I need to hear from you. You should also know, it wouldn't matter to me if you were a little crazy, I know I'm crazy so you'd just fit right in. I don't think anyone that thinks laughter is free could be considered crazy though. You seem to good for such a thing.

I've had you are my sunshine stuck in my head for the past few days whilst I tried to find paper to write you. I think the boys were grateful at first because I wasn't sinking Blue Skies my old favorite, now I think they're ready to kill us both darling. Next question, do you like cats or dogs more? I'm not telling you my answer till I know you can be trusted.

I am with you. Know that much, and I guess Washington will be my first stop when I'm back home.

Please never stop writing.

With all my wondering, respect and ever growing adoration

John Egan

Dear John,

I could have given you my name. But I've decided that darling will do quite nicely for now. If you want to know my name you're going to have to make it home and come and get it yourself.

Is it sad of me to confess that every day I don't get your letter I get a little bit sadder until one comes through? I just hate the wait each time even though I know that these things take time. Writing you might just be the most stressful thing I decided to be. How does anyone's heart survive doing this?

You'll be pleased to know, I've been annoying the girls plenty in return with Blue Skies since learning that it's your favourite. I feel like it tells me a lot about you Major. Sing it for me sometime? I also feel like your question is a trick, a cat and a dog have very different purposes in life so I'll just chose both if that's ok?

I wanted to tell you I joined the war efforts myself since I last wrote. I'm in the factories now and I have to admit, I've never enjoyed having dirty hands so much. I'm helping to build the planes. The wings specifically, I think they put me here because I wouldn't stop talking about my pilot John.

I wonder if anything I ever build will make it across to you? My letters won't stop as long as yours don't John.

With all my curiosity, joy and bursting adoration.

Your darling from home x

Dear Darling,

I'm in a terrible mood. Buck said I can't start my letter like that but I told him you'd be alright. You don't mind do you? I have to tell someone or I think I might actually start going a little crazy. I might already be crazy if I didn't get just as excited as you do when the mail call comes through.

I wish I knew you before the war. I wish you knew me before the war, I fear I might not be the John that came to England. I don't even know if I'm the John that start writing you all those months ago. I'm just sort of hoping you won't give up on me anyway even if my letters ain't always sunshine.

And I'm glad darling, I'm so god damn glad that waiting on my letters is the most stressful part of your day. Reminds me why we're doing this, what we're over here for. To keep you all safe at that side.

I suppose I can give you cats and dogs though. I wouldn't want to pick either if we really had to come down to it. My girls smart though huh? Making those planes for us to fly? I gotta say the idea of that does something to me and my bad mood in a good way.

What I wouldn't give to be home with you right now and I never even met you.

My longing, wishing and steady adoration

John Egan

Dear John

You can write to me, come rain or shine, bad moods or good. I don't want to just be here for the fun parts Major. I may not have known you before the war, and I may only just be learning who you are now but I don't doubt for a second, every part of you is worth knowing so tell Buck that I'll take it all and he can keep his opinions to himself.

I'm sorry, it was thoughtless of me to say writing letters were stressful when you're over there doing what needs to be done. More news keeps reaching us and each day I am terrified that your name is going to appear on a list somewhere.

I know that you can't be here, and I can't be there, but I wanted you to have some small piece of me with you so I sent you something with this letter. Keep smiling with me John, through the good and the bad, just keep smiling if you can.

I hope to see you so soon.

All my determination, strength and adoration

Darling x

Dear Darling,

Buck said he's sorry. He won't ever doubt you again. I think you two would really like each other you know.

He's my voice of reason these days, or rather he always has been. One of my two favorite people, him here, and you all the way over there. How is home? Does it still smell as sweet as I remember it?

I'm a little convinced that you're too good to be true darling. Your picture caused more whistles and taunts that I've seen from the boys in forever and I would have knocked them all on their ass if Buck didn't strike and tell me to sit down again. How do you not have a solider of your own to be writing too?

Sometimes when I get down time. I like to day dream about what you're up to over there. How many planes you fixed up for us, imagine taking you dancing on a Friday night, do you have siblings? Your folks still around? I've been trying to picture it all.

I dream of that soon more than I care to admit.

With all my promises, thoughts and adoration

John Egan

Dear John,

I'm glad you have a voice of reason. We wouldn't want you getting up to any trouble now would we? Are you the sort to be in trouble a lot? I get the impression you could be Major Egan.

How are your moods holding up these days? I can't help but worry about you over here even when I'm meant to be busy.

If you could see the blush that you have all caused you would all be ashamed of yourself. I promise I'm real. I tried to get my friend Meg to let me send a picture of her but she claimed you were really going to show up here one day and then you'd be looking for the wrong girl.

I like the idea of you imagining things. It means I'm not the only one. I do have siblings, an older sister who works in the factories with me, and a little brother who is out fighting with you somewhere but his own girl writes him. My folks are both still here with me too. What's your family like?

I do have a solider of my own to be writing John, I have you.

Tell me a secret if you can?

Your darling x

Dear Darling,

Forgive me because this letter will be short, but I needed to send it out before we move. If you don't hear from me in a while, don't worry, I'll write back as soon as I'm able. I want that name, I want the dancing, I want you to meet my mom when I'm back.

You want to know a secret darling? I think it's taken me ten letters to fall in love with you after all you've given me.

With my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

John Egan

Dear John,

I'm writing even if you might not get this because I refuse to believe anything else other than you're busy for a while. I'll be over here waiting for you remember. I'm with you even when I'm not.

I have so much more to tell you and things I want to learn before I am satisfied.

In fact, no I may never be satisfied and then I never have to let you go.

You'll be in each of my thoughts till I hear from you again John, I think loving you took me one letter.

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

Your darling x

Dear John

I don't think I've taken a real breath in weeks. I figured I would write you again, just in case the first one didn't reach you and you thought I hadn't wrote back.

Your name hasn't appeared on any lists so I refuse to believe that you're not still out there waiting to come home to me.

In case you missed it in the first letter, I love you too.

I am still expecting you home John Egan, I'd be with you till you were. That was the deal right?

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

Your darling x

Dear John

If my letters and love don't reach you where do they go?

Tell me more secrets please? Tell me anything? Tell me you'll sing for me like I asked? What do I do if I never get to meet you?

I've checked each list I've found twice every day for months now. Meg said I'm a mess but I don't really care, I just want to know that you're alright. Even if you're not coming here. Please just tell me you're safe John.

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

Your darling x

Dear Darling,

Sorry, I didn't think a little while would be that long but I've thought of you every damn day I couldn't write to you. I got your letters, all three of them made it to my base some how.

I'm hoping I beat this letter home so that I can tell you in person that I love you.

I hope you like what arrives in Washington darling, but please bare with me if it takes me a second to adjust. I'll tell you everything, all of it, anything you want to know about me. I feel like I have very little to offer you but it's all for you now. I'll be home so soon.

With all my heart, my love and my unfiltered adoration

Yours,

John Egan

[middlingmay]

Stubborn bastard (Benny x Brady drabble)

So I got overconfident yesterday and made a bet with @swifty-fox about their wordcount for their recent ficcy, Bluebird.

And lost immediately. Like within sixty seconds.

So here's the Brenny drabble I owe them! Featuring a pair of idiots after their latest argument.

.

The second this bout was over, Bernard DeMarco was burning this sofa.

Lumpy and uneven and tilting to the middle after years of use. The arms were worn down and had to be smothered in cushions to even be considered in the same region as a place to rest your head.

All that, and it was slightly too narrow. Benny had almost fallen off three times by now and it was only a tick after midnight.

And if that hadn’t been enough to ensure he wasn’t about to get a restful night’s sleep, he heard a dull tha-thump coming down the stairs.

Nerves lit up his spine and Benny shoved his face back into the miserable pile of cushions he was attempting to use as a pillow and snapped his eyes shut. Like a kid caught staying up too late.

But if John was coming to apologise or even just to make up, Benny wasn’t about to scare him off by doing anything as stupid as being conscious.

The drag of a comforter across the floor and the familiar beat of John’s steps made keeping his breaths steady, mimicking sleep, even more difficult.

He pretended to fidget, like his body was naturally getting comfy as it rested without Benny needing to wake up. If it left the most marginal sliver for John to slip right on in next to him, well, all the better. Then Benny would conveniently “wake up” and John would suggest they head to bed and all would be right with the world.

The comforter dropped to the floor. One pillow at the other end of the sofa which Benny had been using to keep his toes warm was pulled off and thrown to the floor, too. And something much weightier followed them down and settled into a petulant silence.

Oh. Oh. That petty motherfucker.

Benny opened his eyes and peered over the edge of the sofa, and sure enough there he lay: the love of his life and stubborn bastard John Brady. Wrapped in a thin comforter on hardwood flooring with the shittiest cushion they owned under his head.

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

Somehow John managed to find a way to sound smug and surly. If Benny were in a clearer frame of mind he might have admired it. “Thought you were supposed to be asleep?”

“No. Because I’m not in a big, comfy, empty bed right now.”

John faced away from Benny and shrugged his shoulder under the blanket. “I’m not stopping you. I told you I’d sleep down here anyway.”

A garbled sound started to fall out of Benny’s mouth but he smothered it with his fist. There was no man, no woman, no person on this entire planet that committed to the cold shoulder quite like John Brady.

“Yeah,” Benny said, “and I told you don’t be stupid because it’ll mess up your back.”

“Oh, so now you decide where I get to sleep?”

“Really?! Are you really sleeping on the goddamn floor just to get one up on me? Prove some kind of point?”

John was silent and deepened his breaths like he was sleeping.

This guy. This man. He was going to send Benny to an early grave from the sheer aggravation.

“So you’re going to deal with the aching all day tomorrow, and the sore hip and shoulder and the crick in your neck? That’s your plan to win?”

John faked a snore.

Benny picked up the biggest cushion under him and thwacked the back of John’s head with it. “Yeah take that you idiot.”

John bolted upright, pure affront sketched on his face. “What the hell, Ben?!”

But Benny was throwing his cushion and own pitiful blanket on the floor next to his partner and spilled off the meager sofa and fussed and arranged them in an angry jerking of limbs.

John kicked his arrangement. “What are you doing? Go to bed.”

“I’m in bed,” Benny grumbled. “Which thanks to you is the floor.”

“Ben!” John tried to push him away, but Benny just flipped him over and wrapped the comforter tight around them both. His arms clamped John in a hug, his front to John’s back, flirting with the wrong side of too tight. John kicked kicked and thrashed uselessly. He was going nowhere.

“Shut up and sleep.”

“I hate you,” his lover said like a petulant child.

“We could be be in big, expensive bed right now, but no. I’ve got my big ass on a cold floor all because you can’t say, I’m sorry, Ben. Maybe I overreacted.”

“Overreacted?!”

“I was just looking!”

“Look one more time and you’ll be on this floor permanently. Or out on your ass.”

“It was just a motorcycle!”

“You want to kill yourself, you should have stayed in the army.”

Benny pushed John over on his belly and threw himself over him, like John was the gorgeous, soft, heavenly mattress he was missing upstairs.

“Shut. Up.”

The air left John in a rush and sounded suspiciously like a sigh. There were several moments of almost content silence.

“Ben?”

“Mm?”

“My toes are cold.”

“They’d be warmer in the bed.”

More silence and John chewed on his dilemma: give in and and be warm, or hold on to his righteous indignation over Benny considering a hobby slightly more dangerous than cycling.

John wriggled and tucked his toes up towards his body.

Benny grinned into his pillow. Stubborn bastard.

[amiserableseriesofevents]

I just saw this GIF of Austin and my mind immediately went to this pic of Callum, and inspiration was just around the corner like that so here's a little Drabble set in the Such Stuff universe, a few years in the future ♡

John slumps in the armchair with an annoyed sigh, checking the clock on the screen of his laptop for the umpteenth time; Buck is late, and it's getting more and more frustrating with every passing minute. They had agreed for eight o'clock where John is, seven for Gale; it's now closer to eight thirty, John is hungry, but he can't possibly leave the laptop unattended to fix himself dinner because Buck could call any minute now.

He's beginning to understand how Buck feels when he's the one away from home, jumping from one city to the other while on tour. And for the same reason he knows he can't be offended if Buck is late, because he's away for work too – some kind of training course for high school teachers, four days out of state on a full-paid trip. Buck couldn't refuse of course, he was actually pretty thrilled about it, and John told him he could hold the fort for a few days without him.

And he has, without a problem, thank you very much. He's cleaned the house, he's been out with Meatball and his other two parents, he's read his lines, he event went to the gym. But now it's the evening, and John is lonely, and Buck is fucking late to their videocall.

John almost whoops out loud when the screen finally comes to life and he sees Buck's little icon pulsating at the center – a pic of Saturn, his favorite planet.

“You're here!” John says the moment the call goes through, unable to bite back a smile.

Gale appears on the screen, a little blurry at first and then in his full splendor with a blue shirt that compliments his eyes, behind him what little John can see of the room they've put him in – a canopied bed, a cream colored wall and a few paintings. Buck looks tired, but happy. “Sorry I was so late, the last speaker really couldn't stop talking,” he says with a smile stretching to the side. “You miss me?”

“I'm coping,” John blatantly lies, and by the way Buck's smile widens he knows he doesn't believe him. “Why all the stretching? Are you ok?”

“Just stiff, been sitting on my ass all day. I could use one of your massages,” Buck tells him with a knowing smirk.

Oh, so this is how we're doing it? Ok.

John grins right back at him. “Don't worry Buck, I'll take care of ya when you come back. I'll take care of ya real good,” he tells him, lowering his voice a little in the way he knows Buck likes.

“Oh yeah? I'm probably gonna need it, I'm so stiff... so sore...” Buck trails off with the fakest sigh John has ever heard. “What do you think I'd need to feel better?”

John leans forward, arms crossed on the table, a fond smile on his lips. “I'll tell you all about it in a bit, Professor Cleven,” he says, relishing in the way Buck's breath hitches at those words even through the screen. “But first, I wanna know everything about the evolution of algebra. Tell me, how is she?”

[goldthorn-archive]

Prompt: sender braids the receiver's hair.

Pairing: Clegan

cute! a little over 300 words, i liked this one :)

John’s bored. He’s trying to enjoy the day, he really is, but he’s never done well with sitting still. Gale is sitting between his legs, lying heavy against John’s chest. They’re out in a field, far from the noise and bustle of the base. It’s so warm here in the sun, quiet, and one could almost forget there’s a war going on. Almost.

Gale shuffles a little between John’s legs, sighs contentedly. John looks down at the mop of golden hair resting on his chest, brings a hand up to card through the blond hair. Gale makes an appreciative noise, lets his eyes close. They spend a long while like that, Gale drifting in and out of sleep, John watching the sun creep lower to the horizon, hands in Gale’s hair. He brings his other hand up to Gale’s head, tries to make a small braid but the hairs keep slipping out of position after only a few strands. John tries a few different ways, tries to see if french braiding will work better (he grew up with sisters, he didn’t have a choice whether or not to learn how to braid). No matter what John tries, Gale’s army regulation hair (which really, is pushing the boundaries already) is too short to stay braided.

“Whatch’ya doin’?” Gale asks sleepily, when John lets out a little huff of frustration. John doesn’t answer his question, just says,

“When we get back home, can you grow your hair out just a little—” and the both of them freeze at John’s slip up. They’ve been trying not to talk about a future lately, not to talk about home, about the war ending, about what any of that means for the two of them.

But, for a moment, it’s a nice thought, John braiding little braids into Gale’s hair, sitting on the couch in a home they share, somewhere in America.

[polifandom]

back?!?!? as if they can wait that long!

sometimes, john will just pull gale over center console into his lap as watch with amusement as gale struggles to fit between john and the wheel.

other times john would just part at the side of the road, push gale's chair all the way back and struggle to fit between his thighs to get his mouth on him.

or, even... john would lean him over the passagem seat, ass to the wind on a deserted parking lot, and take gale when anyone can see.

they are nasty your honor, i don't make the rules.

.... yeah

they're lovers actually they make sweet sweet love in the back of John's pickup

[heretoobsessstuff]

last line tag <3

tagged by @middlingmay thank u my love. here's a snippet of a short one shot i started writing yesterday.

John smoothed the shirt, his shirt, down, adjusting the collar, brushing away the strands of hair that had fallen into Gale’s eyes.

“There,” he murmured. “Better?”

Gale exhaled a slow breath, barely above a whisper. “Yeah.”

John tucked the blankets back around him, securing the warmth again. “All done,” he murmured, his voice light, teasing. “Didn’t think you’d get embarrassed over something like this.”

Gale huffed softly, looking away. “I wasn’t embarrassed,”

John smirked, unable to help himself. “No?”

Gale sighed, rubbing at his eyes. "they’re just big.”

John raised a brow. “I am bigger than you.”

Gale gave him a look, tired but pointed. “Not that much bigger.”

John chuckled, low and warm. Loving Gale's annoyed tone.

“No, but big enough.” He reached out, adjusting the collar of the shirt again. “You look good in them.”

Gale's face turned pink immediately.

John saw it happen, warmth creeping up from his neck to the tips of his ears. John definitely wasn’t teasing him now but he was still deeply, helplessly endeared by him.

Gale cleared his throat, shifting slightly. “They smell like you.”

John swallowed, his voice coming softer this time, fingers lingering by the shirt's collar, tracing Gale's collarbone “That bother you?”

Gale hesitated.

Then, slowly, shook his head.

"I like it"

“Good,” John murmured. Throat feeling a little too dry.

i should rlly continue w my other wips instead of starting new ones 😭 i was just rlly inspired.

tagging (no pressure) @majorbuckyegan @alienoresimagines and @onyxsboxes if they want!

[buckysegan]

We've been waiting for you, John Egan

summary: there's more waiting for john when he gets back from stalag luft iii. john egan x she. word count: 2.1K a/n: something in me felt a little feral tonight and this was needed. a little curvy fmc mention but nothing too much. i just love john egan and would give him all my babies i guess??? again we're rolling with some historical inaccuracies. a continuation from here

it had been five hundred and fifty one days. that was how long it had been since she had seen major john egan. that long since she had slept a whole nights sleep without worrying. that long since she'd known what i was like to be really settled. she tried not to think about it, how much time had passed and how hope seemed to get a little bit worse with each passing day. but it was so hard when she had such obvious proof of just how much john was missing whilst he was away.

she hadn't even realised at first, what the signs were. she had been so consumed in work with more pilots to care for in the hospital than ever before she had barely noticed that she was tired. the nausea was just a sure sign of how much she was missing john. she was confident of it. despite her not eating, the swell of her already generous hips was inconsequential compared to the rest of her worries so she barely paid attention to any of it.

it was douglass, sweet douglass that made the first joke about how if he didn't know better with how often he'd seen her run away to throw up he'd assumed she was pregnant. after that it hadn't taken long for the room to fall silent and for everyone to slowly do some of their own math. the other nurses has scooped her up, rushed her away to the infirmary and sat with her as she did her own calculations on what had happened. three months since she had last bled. dear god.

she should have been sent home. everyone around her knew that was likely when her bump started to show under her uniform and she was ready too, to be sent home and discharged, but the hundredth had always been an unruly bunch and it was almost as if no one could bare to send her away just in case. what would egan do if he got back and they weren't here? no one asked her, who the father might have been, everyone knew without anyone having to utter the words, hardin pulled plenty of strings to keep her around for his boys.

weeks of knowing, turned into months and each of the men around her stepped up in place of their friend. blakely rubbed at her shoulders when she looked a little tired. crosby was around day or night to fetch anything she might have needed. rosie tossed out baby names for girls and boys alike, offering sincere ones and ones that he knew would make her laugh. jack left the traded jacket for her on her bed and no one said a damn thing when she wore it around base. each of them did their best but when she laid on her bunk at night, hands cradling her bump it didn't take away the longing for her major.

those quiet times were when she let herself imagine what it would be like if all of this was happening at different times. how much larger johns rough hands would look splayed across her stretched stomach. just how good he would be at building things ready for the baby and preparing for their impending arrival. the soft spoken words that would have been offered in encouragement through her doubt.

it was two hundred and eighty two days since she had seen john, when the screams of a baby boy filled out a hospital wing and cheers of the hundred went up at the sound. a new soul welcomed into the world and surrounded with so much love despite the fact his dad was stuck somewhere out there.

jokes were passed around at the spirit of baby egan and the hope that he offered for the men. every time the men went up, there he was in the tower reminding them what they were all fighting to come back for. what good in the world still made it all worth while. as cheesy as she had always found it, she knew that the saying it took a village to raise a child had never been truer than it was here in thorpe abbotts.

gale cried when he saw them for the first time. the woman he knew his best friend had been fighting for and the bundle of brown curls in her arms. guilt flooding him that john had allowed him to escape when he had this to return home too. a family. a pair of matching blue and a smile that warmed his heart waiting for him to make it back. he told her as much, that he was sorry and it should have been bucky that made it home and she was quick to remind him that, john egan, wouldn't be the man either of them loved if he had ever left buck behind.

the days seemed to be longer now gale had made it home and she was still waiting on her bucky. each laugh her son offered and mile stone he hit causing a contradiction of emotions in her. joy that she got to witness it all and devastation john was missing it all.

it had been five hundred and fifty one days. that's how long she had been counting when blakely flew into the hospital, douglass and crosby on his tail. "john's home." the two words alone were enough to make her knees buckle as she looked back at the trio, who were all seemingly holding their breaths as they waited for her to respond. she would have cried, with joy, with relief, with the overwhelming sense of emotion that flooded through her. she was going to cry, she was sure of it but right now she needed to see john and she needed to make some introductions. with gale still away on relief mission, everyone knew who john would be asking for first.

bucky could feel something was wrong the second he landed. people had been happy to see him for sure, but there was a buzz around the boys. they were all looking at each other, over him, like they were all sharing a secret he couldn't be privy to right now. it was driving him crazy and that was saying something.

"buck alright?" he found himself asking because if anyone liked to tiptoe around him, it was usually around his best friend but everyone seemed to jovial for that to be the case. even kenny was here with that god damn stupid grin on his face that the rest of them seemed to be wearing. what was he missing?

"yea bucks fine, he's flying today but nothing to worry about, just dropping supplies, we just thought there might be someone else you wanted to see." blakely offered with a nod of his head, and john was sure his face was a continued picture of confusion as he watched the men part like some sort of celebrity was on base but his frown quickly vanished as he saw her. the last time he had seen her this clearly she had kissed him goodbye before they had dragged themselves away from each other.

"we've been waiting for you, john egan." god her voice was even sweeter then he remembered but it was the we in her statement that drew his attention to the small bundle in her arms. a baby. a boy by the looks of it and he felt his stomach drop. she had moved on, of course she had. without him around he wasn't surprised that someone else had scooped her up. he moved to look at each of his men, trying to find which one looked guilty but he was met with more excitement, a little confusion even, what were they surprised he was heart broken she hadn't waited for him.

"you going to stand there all day or are you going to come meet him?" she asked, voice soft as she raised a hand to him and bucky moved towards her without much of a thought because no one seemed ready to stop him and his fingers linked with hers as soon as they were in reach. "you had a baby." john smiled down at her softly, eyes full of wonder as he looked at the small version of herself that she had created.

" i sure did." she nodded with a smile the men hadn't seen in months, the one reserved just for bucky. "i'd like you to meet thomas gale egan." time stood still for a moment then, john was sure of it as he looked between her and the baby she was holding, his blue eyes taking in each feature of the infant before him. their eyes matched he realised after a moment, the dark curls on his head were the wrong shade to be hers, they were his. she was holding his son. "baby...you had my baby?" he asked, as if he needed some sort of further confirmation of what his eyes at told him.

"mhumm, i told you, we've been waiting for you, do you want to hold him?" she offered, her face a mirror of the men around them, all smiles and joy and as john took tommy in his hands with such care she stopped trying to fight the tears that had been ready to spill since she'd heard he was home. with tears rolling down his own cheeks john took in the baby that watched him with what he hoped was quiet wonder, he had a whole baby boy that he had never known about and he was perfect. "thomas gale egan, it sure is good to meet you." reaching a spare arm around her bucky pulled his girl close to his side, unable to move his gaze from his son.

"alright any of you clowns going to tell me what else i missed whilst i was gone?"

he had been sure that he would sleep for hours when he returned to base. that his body would crash and that he would need time to recover but he had never felt more wired than he did as he stretched out in bed. it had taken john far to long to shake the rest of the boys, listening to stories of how each of them had helped his girl at some point. stories of all tommy's firsts since he had been born, the photos they'd managed to get all offered to john so he could piece together the time he had missed.

he'd stepped away from them only to check on gale when he had landed who had offered him the biggest grin and wondered if he had met his name sake yet, john still unable to believe she had named their boy so well.

nothing about his should have surprised him though, she was perfect, she had been before he had gone and now as he watched her tucked into his side sleeping softly like her own body could finally rest. tommy was spread across his chest, warm skin to skin, sound sleep on him with his little mouth wide opened as he showed no sign of being anything other that utterly content as he slept on his dad, one of john's hand spread across his tiny back taking up the whole space but to afraid to let him or his mom go as if either of them might vanish on him.

feeling her stir a little in his arms john pulled his gaze from tommy for a second to meet sleepy eyes, his chest flooding with more love for her than he had ever thought possible when he'd had to leave her a life time ago now. "you struggling to sleep?" she asked, her voice thick with sleep as she checked on tommy for a second before her eyes met john's once more. "i'm scared i'm still in that camp and neither of you are real." his confession was quiet as he offered it and with a soft hum, she pushed gently, pressing her lips to his. "sleep daddy, we will both be here in the morning."

"i just want to watch him a little longer." john offered quietly, tucking her back into his arm so she could sleep once more. if he never slept again it wouldn't be a shock to him. how he was ever meant to stop looking at this? well bucky just didn't know. "thanks for waiting for me, baby." he offered, to her sleeping form, lips pressing a kiss to the top of her own curls. he'd been waiting for them too, he'd just not known how to dare dream of it, till they were here in his arms.

[amiserableseriesofevents]

What about 'soft and sweet' for the random kiss prompts? 🥰🤗

warm, soft and sweet, a little clumsy, soft giggles, melting, sugary, love

Hi there ♥️ here we go!

A soft little drabble set in the Such Stuff verse to celebrate the end of the main story 🥰✨

The colorful Christmas lights hung outside the pub paint the sidewalk in soft, flickering hues. It didn't snow yet this year but there's the heavy smell of it in the air, the night sky verging on that weird shade of grey that usually welcomes a storm of white flakes. John knows that sky very well, it used to be like that every winter in Manitowoc when he was a kid; it'll start snowing before Buck's birthday ends, he knows it.

Standing on the sidewalk, he's enjoying the one and only cigarette he's allowed himself to have throughout the whole holidays while Buck is inside with all their friends, celebrating his 29th birthday with a karaoke night and many, many rounds of drinks. John'll have to get back inside soon, Marge's waiting for him to perform one of their duets and he's already missing Buck despite having spent every single minute of the past four days together. So he flicks the cigarette to the ground, the cherry-red tip glowing for a moment on the dark pavement before he puts it off with his foot, and then steps back into the pub.

The music is loud and the air heavy and hot, a blessing on his cold-bitten cheeks. He starts to shrug his sheepskin off as he walks to their table, somehow always the loudest and rowdiest in the place, but when Buck catches sight of him he stands abruptly and cuts through the crowd to get to him. It worries John a little — did any of the guys say something bad to him? Did his parents tried to contact him since it's his birthday? Is he having some kind of crisis?

“You're back!” Buck tells him once he reaches him, throwing his arms around John's neck like he hasn't seen him in weeks. John returns the hug, confused. “I've been outside for ten minutes, Buck. Did you really miss me that much?” He asks him, tenderness in his voice.

Buck pulls back to look at him, his eyes wide and shiny in the soft light of the pub. “Of course I did,” he answers, tone serious like when he tries to explain calculus to John but with a slanted smile on his face. “I always miss you when you're not here,” he adds and goes for a kiss, somehow missing half of John's mouth and ending up crushing his mouth against John's upper lip and his nose.

John laughs and repositions him, kissing him softly on the lips; suddenly, the reason behind Buck's weird behavior is clear as day.

“Buck. Are you drunk?” John asks, lips curling up in amusement. Stubborn as ever, even with the heady smell of liquor in his breath, Buck shakes his head.

“Yes you are!”

“M'not,” Buck protests feigning a serious expression, but his credibility dissolves in a fit of giggles. “Benny bought me one drink. Can't be drunk on one drink,” he adds with conviction, and leans forward for another kiss — his lips are unbelievably soft and plushy, even in the middle of winter and with him biking his way around town every day.

“Was it a girly drink?” John enquires licking his lips after the kiss and tasting sugar, the only thing that makes a drink bearable for Buck. The other nods conspiratorially, running a hand up and down the front of John's newest winter jacket. “This is hideous,” he declares.

John starts laughing. “You got it for me, Buck.”

“I know,” Buck says, half annoyed. “Because you kept riding around on Our Baby in your leather jacket. You need to stay warm even when I'm not there.”

“Oh? Do you want to keep me warm instead?” John asks, amused at following his drunk boyfriend's stream of thoughts. Buck nods, a happy little smile on his face, and hugs him again, this time even tighter and nuzzling his face in the curve of John's neck; John's starting to sweat, between the sheepskin and Buck's warmth and the thick air of the pub, but he lets the hug last as long as Buck wants, content with pressing little kisses to the side of his head, melting in the embrace.

Outside, slow and silent, it's starting to snow.

[johnslittlespoon]

thinking about how we all talk about gale's rocky family life for obvious reasons– between him and john, he's the only one who we really hear talk about his family in the show.

what about what we can infer from john's silence about his family?

as far as we can assume, he had living family who just... didn't write him the whole year and a half he was a pow in germany?

(if we pull from real info for backstory/writing purposes, he had two sisters and a mom, and a dad who died a few years before the war. factor in the endless archived newspaper articles of the other men's families speaking about them, sharing news of their pow status, writing back and forth to the pows, sending gifts and pictures...)

radio silence for john.

it must've been such an isolating feeling, knowing he had family back home who didn't care enough to write to him, wondering whether they even asked after him, if they read the newspaper to find out how their son/brother was doing overseas. having to see the others receive packages when they wrote home asking for certain things, getting to look forward to letters from loved ones and having something to occupy them through the emptiest days.

i'm sure it made gale's chest hurt too, knowing he'd never get a letter from his parents, but he at least had marge to write to, something to get him through the endless mundanity. john had nothing. (well, he had the motivation of getting gale back home safe, but beyond that?)

was he just not close with his family in the mota–verse? or did his parents treat him unkindly the way gale's did? was he the black sheep of the family? as much as he said he enlisted because he wanted to fly and join the fight, was it also to get away from whatever was wrong back home?

so many unanswered questions, so much angst drabble potential, so many hugs needed for that poor boy. </3

[brotherwtf]

Gale's first time crying since the war started being when he first sees John with his face busted up and injured when they reunite in the Stalag

at first he can't even feel anything, doesn't know how to feel anything when he sees John walk through the gates with his head practically caved in, still looking beautiful and charming even through the blood, and it's like his brain is on a lag or something because he doesn't quite feel anything yet

but when John finally gets processed and is shoved into Gale's bunk by cruel German hands, Gale can feel his emotions well up inside of him

Gale finally cries when he insists on washing John's wounds, refuses to let him see the doc because HE needs to be the one to do it, he needs to see if John's okay, and when John winces when Gale presses a damp cloth to his eye, the dam just fucking breaks

he sobs like a child, all heaving and hiccupping and shaking as he tries to do what a Major should do, tries to help his comrades but he can't... can't fathom that John got this hurt... but he's also alive, after seeing Brady and not John enter the Stalag he had thought for sure John was dead... but he's alive, goddamnit John is alive

and John holds Gale while he sobs, arms strong around him and Gale heaves shakily into his neck, doesn't say anything which only makes Gale sob even more because John always knew what to say, always had a word of encouragement for him, and oh, how the fucking war has changed them, hasn't it?

[avonne-writes]

Friday nights

300 words of fluff for @middlingmay and @hogans-heroes 💕

gif by @violaobanion

Gale wakes up on John's couch with a crick in his neck and the weight of a long week dragging down his eyelids. He yawns and sits up. The blanket John must have draped over him bunches up in his lap. It's Friday night, the weekend a pleasant promise ahead. John's flat is warm and dark, with only the football game that put Gale to sleep and a soft light in the kitchen breaking the monochrome. 

Gale pushes himself up from the cushions and shuffles towards the light. He finds John standing by the counter, green leaves in his hand, cheeks bulging, eyes blank. When he spots Gale, he freezes in the middle of his content chewing and stares as if caught.

“What are you doing?” Gale squints at him, rubbing at his aching neck.

John resumes his munching. “Eating.”

“Raw cabbage?” Gale mumbles. He craves cold sparkling water, so he makes a beeline for the fridge, hoping to find some. “Did you wash it at least?”

The sounds of John's chewing pause, then start again. Gale chuckles and opens the fridge. There it is, his mineral water, unopened - and next to it, empty space. Save for a few jars with contents of questionable expiration dates, there's nothing inside.

“I see.” Gale huffs a laugh again as he takes his bottle and closes the door. The cabbage makes much more sense now.

He hears footsteps behind him, then large palms slide around his waist. “I was too tired to buy groceries.”

Not too tired to make Gale come untouched though. Gale decides not to mention that. “Why didn’t you order a pizza?”

John nuzzles into the crook of Gale's neck with a soft sigh. “Didn’t wanna wake you by opening the front door.”

Smiling, Gale shakes his head and leans back into John's embrace. 

[wayrad]

idk if we have any clegan mob au’s???

i feel like buck would be the kind of mob boss that really leads a gang that’s more of a family. like they don’t follow him out of fear but out of real blood-thick loyalty. cus buck is a smart and strong leader, he isn’t necessarily nice but he’s good; quick as a whip and absolutely lethal when he has to be. he’s always dressed to the nines in dark tailored suits and coiffed hair (picture austin during elvis era w black hair fuck yea) wearing little sunglasses and smoking cubans. I feel like everyone would kinda be lusting over him but he makes it a rule not to fuck around with his underlings, so no one really knows what buck likes cause he’s never seen with any men or women. or so people think… enter bucky omg this man is like. lowkey nicknamed mad dog with the way he’s at buck’s heels, always standing by the door or at the side of buck’s desk when meeting with business partners (and adversaries), just ready for something to go wrong so he can get some action. he’s absolutely brutal, all brass knuckles and split lips, pummelling poor guys into the ground until buck orders him to “lay it off, bucky.” basically buck says jump bucky asks how high. and dude the SEX oh holy mother of god. no one really knows but they know: bucky is all service top giving gale everything he asks for, fucking him nice and good and not coming until buck tells him he can. he’s a good dog after all. maybe at one point someone kidnaps bucky to get back at buck and he kills like half their gang to get him back lol john wick style. and then they fuck nasty blood still everywhere ofc

[heretoobsessstuff]

A little snippet from my "Babe can I call" WIP

(5 times John calls Gale in the middle of the night and one time Gale does instead"

Fourth time he called Gale in the middle of the night, he had a nightmare.

It was always different variations of the same scenario. He would be running through the forest, Germans following him, shooting behind him. They would catch him and knock him out. He would open his eyes and be back on that cart, the guy beside him mumbling prayers under his breath. He would turn to tell him to shut up and instead he would be met with Gale’s face, pasty and pale, blood coating the side of his face, dead. Sometimes there would be a bullet wound between his eyes, sometimes his head would be bashed in, sometimes Bucky couldn’t tell what had happened. Only that he was dead. 

He would usually wake up in a frenzy, panting like he had just run a hundred miles, clothes dripping with sweat. It would take him a while to get out of his head. He would gulp down a glass of water and close his eyes, reminding himself that those things didn’t happen. Gale wasn’t with him on the cart. He didn’t get shot or have his head bashed in with a shovel. He wasn’t there in that forest. It would take him a while but he would eventually calm down and either go back to sleep or smoke his way through a pack of lucky strikes. He would resist the urge to call Gale in the middle of the night  just to hear his voice. The morning would come and things would feel better.

This one was different. He was in London, back in the base, walking towards the barracks with his heart pounding. The air was thick with a sense of impending doom. He had a newspaper clutched in his fist , fingers grazing the line "30 bombers lost".

He swung open the door to see a faceless man in Gale’s bunk instead of him. He approached him with fear pooling in his gut. Hands shaking where he clutched the newspaper. “ Where’s Gale?” He asked. The guy frowned at him like he was crazy and said “Don’t you remember? Gale is dead” 

The grief had him by the throat when he woke up. He felt disoriented, he didn’t know whether he was in stalag or back in london. He didn’t know what time it was. He only knew that Gale was dead. He was dead.

[buckysegan]

With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration - Part Two

Summary: John writes back to his friend from home and we hear from our friend across the way. John x She. Word Count: 1.2k. A/N: we are def rolling with some historical inaccuracies in regards to letters here but sue me. he deserves it. pstttt also should we name her? do you all want to send me random john prompts. my baby isn't ok and i'm not ok. Part one linked here. Part three linked here.

John was sure he wasn't sweating a normal amount as he looked down at the piece of paper that Buck had offered him. It had taken two whole days of questions from the man for Bucky to even decide that he was going to reply. He’d been offered the hope, what more could he ask of her. Could he ask more? There had been a return address on the letter which Buck had insisted was there for a reason and she had opened herself out for a reply from him but the Major couldn’t help but be unsure.

It was an odd feeling for him, before the war he hadn't been unsure of anything and since he’d been here? Well he hadn’t been sober enough to doubt anything that he had done. These days though Bucky felt like he doubted every single thing. The thing was, he wasn't sure that he could afford to doubt this, to look past the life line that had been offered to him. Not when each day he could feel his mind draw a little further toward the edge no matter how much he or Buck tried to keep it in check.

With a sigh he pulled the pen into his hand, eyes locked on the page for a moment before he began to scrawl.

Dear Friend From Home 

You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you. 

I think the first thing I got to say is thank you. I don’t know if the words I can put on paper are ever going to really tell you how much your letter meant to me. See I was a certain type of man that didn’t think much to pen pals. I figured that I’d be ok, you know, that with my boys I’d have what I needed to make it through the hard days but watching the letters for everyone else roll in has been harder than I thought it might. 

There are things that I can’t tell you cause I don’t know who might read these letters, and where I am I can’t get you no picture but I can tell you that my favorite dish is a meat and potato pie, simple I know but really I’m a simple hearty kind of guy. What makes me laugh, you asked? That’s kind of simple for me too, just good company, myself sometimes, Buck, he’s my best friend, he makes me laugh a lot. What makes you laugh? I’d like to know that. 

May I know where you are? I know that might be a big ask but you said I could ask anything I know and if I get out of here…we get some leave, I’d like to know where I need to ask for me leave to be. Then I can show you what I sound and look like and know that in return. 

If this letter doesn’t reach you for a while, know you’ve been with me the whole time. 

With all my gratitude, hope and returned adoration

Major John Egan 

“What if she doesn’t get it?” He found himself questioning quietly to Buck as he handed over the letter to make it out of camp. His best friend settled him with a soft look, one that always made Bucky feel like he had some worldly knowledge the rest of them had missed out on, that assured him everything was going to be alright. “You just gotta have hope she will John, she’ll get it.” 

With a huff Bucky nodded, pulling his hat on as he watched his letter vanish from his view all together. “Alright well I can’t sit here and wonder, I’m off to play baseball or something.”

The letter that Bucky had so carefully handed over changed hands many more times, some fingers as rough as the pilots, some dirtier, some softer, but the last set of fingers to slide the letter from her post box had perfectly manicured fingers. Her flicking of her post was greedy as she looked for the same thing that she had every day since she’d posted her own letter.

At first, her hopes of finding what she was looking for had been unrealistic; she knew that, it hadn’t even been long enough for her letter to be received, let alone for him to get one back to her, then the other girls at the centre, they’d gotten letters back, notes, anything. That was when she had allowed her hope to return, for a moment at least. Days without anything had turned into weeks and then weeks had turned into months. Anything could have happened, that was what she tried to tell herself, he might not have gotten her letter, he might have thought it was weird and had chosen not to reply. That thought was enough to miff her, he could have at least said thank you. When she had decided no one could be that mean, her diminishing hope had turned to worry, what if he hadn't been able to receive her letter.

Flicking through each white envelope today, she almost missed it, how she didn't know because it was clearly different from the rest of them, maybe she hadn't wanted to look. "Not…" Trailing off she flicked back to the second to last letter, her eyes taking in the scrawling of her address, her eyes checking the postage before she was taring inside. "It's here, he wrote it's here." She called through the halls to the other girls that she lived with, all of which had been holding their breath with her. "Oh god I can't read it, what if he's telling me I was weird!" She cried, thrusting the unopened letter into the hands of her eager friend.

"Don't be dramatic, he's going to be throwing down his gratitude at you being a doll, you should have attached a picture with it I told you!" Meg beamed easily back at her, the same sense of reservation missing from her actions as she tore into the letter so that it could be read to the group. "Dear Friend From Home. You’re gunna have to forgive me because I ain’t going to be as good as this as you are. I’ve written so many letters this war you would think that I’d have gotten a handle on it by now but I find myself at a loss when it comes to what to say to you." That was enough, pulling the letter from Megs hands she was quick to scramble away from the group once more, locking herself into her room as re-read the opening line herself, the tears in her eyes only welling even further as she continued.

An ache in her chest formed as she read the words once more, taking in each strike of his pen where he had corrected himself or smudge from whatever he'd had on his fingers. The state of the letter was enough to make her wonder, but at least for now, she knew her friend was ok. He was alive, and he wanted to hear more from her. It couldn't have been normal, to feel this level of emotion for a man that she had never met, but she had found herself here regardless and in the middle of so much uncertainty, she wasn't going to question the pull she felt across the way to England.

Pushing from her bed she moved to her desk, paper pulled from her stationary pot, the quicker she could post this the quicker it could get to him.

"Dear Major Egan,

I'm delighted to hear I'm with you. I hope you know, that you've been with me too…"

[rangerelizabeth]

🆓: ... Free space - add your own what if...? scenario about episode 3

What if Gale made it to Algeria but wounded?

I got inspired to write a little drabble for this one! This is the first thing I've written in months (is my writer's block finally over?🤞) so I hope you enjoy it! Kind of an abrupt ending, but I promised myself I'd keep it relatively short lol. Drabble under the cut!

Word count: 1153

When the wheels of his fort touch down on Algerian soil, the first thing Gale feels is a flood of relief, despite being several yards from the runway, in a beat up fort made of what seems like more bullet holes than metal, all engines feathered, one of his crew killed, and far too many others lost on the way. At the very least, they made it. 

The second thing he registers is the dull ache in his right side, just below his ribcage. He’d felt the initial impact, certain and painful, when they were flying through heavy enemy fire some hours ago. 

Yet in the chaos of the moment, it seemed his copilot hadn’t noticed his wince of pain accompanied by a sharp intake of breath. So, he’d elected to keep it that way, allowing the initial excruciating pain to fade to a low thrum in the background as they continued with the mission. His crew was already shaken enough as it was. No reason to add insult to injury by informing them their pilot had been hit.

Now, safely on the ground in Algeria, he knows he should probably tell someone. But time seems to swim confusingly in the haze of a post-mission adrenaline crash, and before he knows it, Bucky and Jack are there and his crew is pulling the remains of Norman Smith, their trusted radio operator, out of the wrecked fort, so Gale shoves the injury out of his mind once more to take care of his crew.

Besides, he figures, it can’t be that bad if he’s made it this far.

~~~

As they get the men settled with bedrolls and water and whatever food they can scrounge up, considering their less than warm welcome in Algeria, Bucky basks in the relief that Gale is really there, on the ground, alive. He thought he knew nerves, but nothing could compare to the feeling of watching Gale’s beat up fort from his faux position as ‘reserve command pilot’, unable to do anything except hope against all odds that they would both make it to their destination.

Bucky can’t help but notice that the other man looks paler than normal, can’t help but notice the way his hands shake as he helps set up their makeshift camp. It’s understandable, Bucky supposes, after using every ounce of his willpower to keep his fort in the sky, then finally, finally touching down safely by nothing but the skin of his teeth. The comedown from something like that isn’t easy.

So, he chalks it up to that. Until moments later, that is, when sudden, frantic shouting comes while his back is turned. He whips his head up from where he was neatly unfurling a bedroll, his senses shocked when he finds Gale collapsed on his knees in the sand a few feet away from him.

Bucky abandons the bedroll, rushing forward. He drops to his own knees in front of Gale, hands latching onto Gale’s forearms while his eyes frantically search his face. Somehow, he looks even paler now. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Gale’s eyes are slow to find his. When they do, they’re pinched with a deep pain that Bucky can’t believe he didn’t notice before. Still, Gale shakes his head weakly. “’M fine.”

They have an audience, which Bucky knows isn’t helping Gale to tell him anything, stubborn and unflappable as he is. Or rather, as he would like to appear. Reluctantly, Bucky tears his eyes from the other man’s to glance around at the rest of the men. “Make yourselves busy, will you?”

Mercifully, they get the hint, dispersing in all directions away from the pair of them, busying themselves with getting settled in once more. Bucky’s gaze returns to Gale’s face with even greater urgency. “C’mon, Buck. What’s going on?”

It’s then that Gale presses a gentle hand to his right side, wincing even at the slightest pressure. There’s a tear there in his flight suit, accompanied by a spot of blood, which Bucky had naively assumed was someone else’s or just a minor scrape like the littering of small cuts now marring the other man’s face. 

“Think I’m hit,” Gale finally admits reluctantly, low and under his breath. 

Bucky clenches his jaw, inhales sharply through his nose, and forces himself not to panic. “You stubborn bastard. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

Gale shrugs. His eyes appear cloudy with fatigue or dizziness, Bucky can’t quite tell. When he speaks, his voice comes out sounding weak. “Had things to do. A mission to complete.”

John stares at him in a mixture of concern and disbelief for a moment before spurring himself into action. Pushing Gale’s jacket off his shoulders and beginning to undo the straps of his flight suit in hopes of getting a good look at his wound, Bucky admonishes in frustration, “The mission was complete the second you landed that fort against all odds, and you know it. You should’ve told me right then.”

“Didn’t want to cause a fuss. I’m fine.”

“You are not fine,” Bucky disagrees sharply, but then softens. He could have lost Gale today. Still could, really, depending on how badly he’s hurt. If they both make it back to Thorpe Abbotts safely after this, then he’ll give the other man an earful about taking better care of himself. But for now, harsh words aren’t going to make Gale feel any better. “It’s my job to fuss over you. So just let me do my job, okay?”

Gale sighs, accepting, then nods. He glances around to see if anyone else is keeping an eye on them. Then, apparently satisfied when they’re not, allows himself to slump forward against the broad warmth of Bucky’s chest with a quiet grunt of pain.

It’s not helping Bucky get him out of his flight gear any faster, but it feels so good to have Gale close after the day's events that he allows it, just for a moment. He strokes a hand down Gale’s back, ducking his head to murmur into his ear, for the two of them only, “I’ve got you, doll. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Once Gale hums in acknowledgement, Bucky reluctantly pushes him back to continue his efforts. He’s afraid of the injury he might find underneath the layers of clothing, but forces himself to keep his attitude light and optimistic on Gale’s behalf.

“Never thought I’d be taking your clothes off surrounded by all of our men,” Bucky teases quietly as he pushes the top Gale’s flight suit down to bunch around his waist, hoping to brighten the mood.

It seems to work briefly, with Gale letting out a surprised, albeit weak chuckle. But then the movement seems to pain him, and he winces. “Don’t make me laugh.”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky quickly sobers, worry flooding his veins. “Let me take a look. We’ll have you all patched up in no time, promise.”