#woweeee annie miss girl what are we doing

[wexhappyxfew]

Hello love! If it's not a problem for you, how about "what do you mean you don't know?" from prompt list #3 for my girl Annie?

If not, no worries, anything else is fine!

Thank you again, I love the way you write!

ah hello anon!! thanks so much for stopping by and dropping in a prompt - this one took a bit for me to write and wrap my head around for the direction i wanted and the end result is definitely something i like! :) featuring annie bradshaw, john brady, and a whole lot of emotions that are hard to navigate :'( enjoy!!

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The bed was probably the most comforting thing in the past few days more than anything else.

It was warm, and a place where she could shut her eyes from the world around her, and most importantly, she could finally let herself rest enough to get a few hours of sleep - something she was severely lacking on in recent happenings.

That and the fact Captain Brady was right there next to her.

One of the bigger changes in recent days as well. It sort of just happened. The two of them there. In bed side by side. He'd wandered in and she'd been in her bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling, previous thoughts of just what had happened, mulling about in her mind - Major Cleven's fort going down, DeMarco along with him.

Then there had been Margie's tears and trying to comfort a girl who was feeling much more emotional than she thought she would've. There was recognizing that they really didn't know what had happened but that their first assumptions were as expected - MIA or dead.

So, Brady finding her curled in her bed, dead-silent, was something he probably expected.

Him settling down next to her?

Yeah, that was a whole new experience.

And now, with the evening rolling in, with bitter wind chills, the 'nap' (if you could call it a nap) was forcing her from sleep, where she was tucked protectively against his form, the rise and fall of his chest mesmorizing as she lazily blinked her eyes awake.

A part of her wanted to stay in this moment, right here, for as long as she could; curled against Brady, his arm around her, holding her as close as possible to him without it crossing any sort of lines they had tried to draw, his thumb gently brushing the exposed part of her wrist that was curled up against her own chest.

Annie softly let out a breath and then shifted her head to look upwards towards Brady's face, finding him completely passed out. The past few days had taken its toll on everyone; mission every day, losing people every day, planes going down left and right, less seats occupied in the mornings with filling breakfasts. His face was so soft in his sleep, the stress lines gone, his face light. She wondered back home if his own mother would ever pray that he'd come home and be able to sleep like this again - away from war, sorrow and pain. In a world where this, where they were right now, was so far removed from war that Annie could've allowed herself to envision this as a future.

"Hey," Brady mumbled, slowly peaking his eyes open in the sprinkling of evening darkness, shifting a bit as he yawned, looking towards her lazily.

This would be an awkward moment to not call him sir, right? Annie watched him for a moment, her hand lingering on his leather jacket that she was curled against and smiled slightly his way.

"Hi," she whispered back, her own eyes still feeling heavy as she stared at his darkened face in the poorly lit officers' barracks, "how'd you sleep? You were out-cold." Brady let a grin grow on his features, an evidently tired one, but a genuine one nonetheless and he settled again, his hand finding its way along her back, his touch lingering as he went.

"Probably the best I've had in weeks, and," he checked his watch, "to say an hour nap was the best in weeks is pretty sad if I'm being honest." She laughed. A light, genuine laugh.

Annie sat up a bit, leaning an arm on his chest, lying her head there and staring up at him, with probably the most boring gaze she could offer him, with her mind drained, her nerves shot and the last of her wits about her, depleted. But, the corner of his lip quirked up and he seemed to smile at her.

That was this thing with them; the crawling into each other's cots when things got too much, the lingering looks after launching themselves from the B-17s that nearly crash-landed after every mission, the eye contact in Interrogation or at the mess hall from across the tables. The knowing and undying of it all. The knowing, which hurt the most.

"What's up there?" Brady asked her quietly, reaching forward, almost as-if absentmindedly, brushing some hair from her eyes, like it were second nature, "your wheels are turning, I can see it." He always seemed to know when she was on some long train of thought that had no stops. Just that look in his eye, the way his gaze stayed longer than needed; he always knew.

"If you run into Margie, just give her a hug," Annie said quietly, "she's…..she's struggling. All of this." Brady was silent as he listened to her - something Annie gave him a lot of credit for. Just listening, letting her talk. So many times, it was her doing the listening for others. Him watching her so intently and immersed almost made her lose it on the spot.

"I don't know," whispered Annie, her voice tight, "Margie was finally just….letting someone else in? She's a sweetheart truly, but I don't know, ever since that night he took her dancing, she's been so happy, just….a ball of sunshine. He was good for her." And now the only thing uttered after DeMarco's name was MIA (and the other silent word no one wanted to say).

"Benny's a tough guy," Brady said with a nod at her, "and Margie's got more hope for the future than the rest of us combined." He met her gaze.

"And knowing Benny, he's not going out of this war because a German killed him," Brady said. Annie found herself able to smile a bit at the truth in his words - he was right. Benny DeMarco was tough as nails; but with Margie, he turned like a sunflower to sunshine. In her gut, she knew no one like him would just let it be the end.

Annie looked at Brady - fully. Taking in everything about his face, just simply him, that tired look in his eyes, the slight hint of a smile.

"What?" Brady said, his voice low, "There's something else bothering you." There was something deep inside of her, convincing her that nothing else was wrong - that it was the fact that her focus was so intense on Margie that it had consumed her. But then, she looked at Brady and her heart rate sped up.

"Just…." she trailed off, her heart continuing to pound; he continued to hold her gaze, firmer this time, more engrossed and focused solely on her - almost like he knew. Like he knew exactly what was she feeling. There was constant fear that swirled in her gut and made her feel sick. It made her feel like curling up into a ball and never facing the world again. A general fear for every aspect of her life right now.

Annie slowly sat up, trying to get a deeper breath than she was getting at the minute and nervously reached up to tuck her hair behind her ears and looked at Brady again, who looked more alarmed by the second.

"What's going on?" Brady asked quietly, sitting up and reaching forward - always inevitably reaching, like the rest of them. For more, for something better. His hands were there on her arms - and they were inviting, tender and present - right there.

"I don't know," Annie whispered, her voice tight - she did know.

"What do you mean you don't know?" Brady whispered back, his voice filled with concern, which continued to flood in. She looked up at him and shook her head, before staring at her hands again.

"I don't know what I'll do if it's you," she whispered. Brady's grip tightened on her forearms a bit and he let out that shaky breath he did when he held onto his breath for too long - something she would've jokingly commented on, but for now was something that made her stomach twist. Annie glanced up at Brady, his eyes already on hers, the two watching each other and those intermingled bit of words mingling between them.

"I can't control whatever happens in the future, Annie," he whispered and her name sounded ethereal on his lips, she suddenly wanted the world to wash away, "whatever happens, I'd find my way back to you. You know that." Did she though?

All those looks in the flying club, the drink sharing, the offer of his coat, or a hug, or to tell some really God-awful jokes that she always laughed at….did she know though? Was this anything? Or was it something to hold onto in this mess of a war? There was so much unspoken between them, like if they said anything, they'd jinx it all? Maybe that's why they just went along with it, why they were sat here like this, right now.

"Because I know sure as anything if you go down, I'd go on every mission day after day, to make sure the Germans pay, hell I'd come and find you no matter what," Brady whispered quietly, his tone firm, but full of truth, "and I hate to talk that way, to even let myself think it. But with what we do, every day, I have to be okay with that. And you, too." Annie slowly reached forward and took his right hand in her two palms and ran her fingers over the smooth palms of his hands, the tension slowly dwindling from his body as he sighed and leaned forward, pressing his forehead against her own. He let out a shaky breath.

"They got it coming."