#wwii fic

[wynebceffylarya]

[bathtubdefenseattorney]

i added the last tag for you guys. as a lil treat <3

[lotus-pear]

i think you guys are onto smth..

i unironically got invested in this HELP

[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

[thatsrightice]

But [Rosie] was not very good at maneuvering a spindly British bicycle. As "airplane commander," Rosenthal was issued along with a good deal of other matériel, a bicycle for getting around the wide vistas of Thorpe Abbotts. He found himself heavily burdened by all this issue but somehow managed to get himself upon the cycle. He carried a load of gear in one arm, had draped his life preserver around his neck, and set off in the general direction of his quarters.

Rosenthal managed to do pretty well, for he got some distance away from the supply hut and was pedaling his uncertain way along a little dirt road. A shift in the load contributed to a series of unusual course changes which came to a sudden, damp conclusion as Rosenthal, newly issued supplies and bicycle plunged down an embankment into one of those charming little ditches that run along the picturesque rural English roads.

Lying in the water (which was not deep), Lieutenant Rosenthal felt there was only one thing to do in this emergency as he lay there, face up in the ditch: he inflated his Mae West. This was probably the only time during all of the Second World War that a member of the 8th Air Force was thus saved from British waters.

— an except from Edward Jablonski’s Flying Fortress : the illustrated biography of the B-17s and the men who flew them

[jointherebellion215]

Worth

John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader

Summary: You're swept off your feet by one Major John C. Egan, and you love every second of it. Sequel to Birdie.

Word Count: 3.0k

Tags: female!reader, mechanic!reader, women™, period typical sexism & misogyny, fun date night, dude w/ a small dick gets rightfully called out, mostly just fun date stuff, tons of fluff

A/N: Hello all! Thank you so much for the kind words on Birdie. I really appreciate everyone's comments, they warm my heart right up. I almost didn't write this, but the thought of having these two smooch it up was too good to pass up. I also completely headcanon that Bucky has the biggest sweet tooth, oops. As always, I'd be most gracious if you were to leave a like, comment, and/or reblog :)

Read the OC Version of this story on AO3!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This story and any recognizably named characters are based solely on dramatic portrayals of the characters from the series, not the real individuals they represent. All the respect to the actual service people who fought and died in the Second World War. Also, please don't copy, repost, or translate my writing without explicit prior permission. Don't even think about it, AI!

A knock at the door brings butterflies to your stomach.

“Oh, he’s here!” Irene shouts, which is immediately met with your shushing, as well as Teresa’s.

You nervously pat your hair and check over your outfit for the evening. You’re spending your second day’s leave on a date with Bucky Egan. He had approached you last night at the pub, asking if you wanted to grab dinner. Alone. 

You, of course, said yes.

Teresa and Irene go to answer the door while you gather your purse, stuffing it with your essentials. Your friends greet him at the same time, sounding like twins.

“Good evening, Major!”

“Good evening, Major!”

You hear his deep voice reply, only a small bit of surprise leaking into his voice.

“Good evening, ladies. Is Birdie around? We have dinner plans.”

“I’m here! Hi.” You step around the wall that hides you from the front door, taking a look at the man you’d been crushing on for months. He stands tall and confident in his neatly pressed uniform, hat covering most of his dark curls. His mouth gapes, giving you a once over and attempting to speak up.

“I- You-…Uh, wow. Y-you look…” But any sweet words he attempts to say are interrupted by Irene, who comes in hot with a manic smile.

“Did you know that my daddy taught me how to shoot when I was just a little girl? I’m real good at it. They call me Oakley, back home, cause of how great a marksman I am. Y’know, like Annie Oakley?” She stepped forward, puffing up her chest and giving a frightening grin to Major Egan. You and Teresa exchanged confused looks, not knowing quite where she was going with this.

“I’m not allowed a sidearm or a rifle over here, but I’m sure I could easily borrow one from any of the fellas on base should you break my best friend’s hea—”

“OKAY! We don’t wanna be late, all the tables might be taken soon. Gotta go. Love you. Bye!” You quickly shove past the blonde, stepping over the threshold. You take Bucky’s hand and practically drag his tall form down the hallway, away from your best friend’s attempt at a shovel talk.

You faintly hear Teresa’s well wishes to you amid the aggressively whispered conversation she has with Irene. The last words you hear before the elevator door closes in front of you are a heavily accented protest from Irene.

“What? I was just trying to..!”

The pair of you stand in the elevator in silence. A slight rocking indicates the starting motion of it, which snaps you back to reality. Looking down, you realize that you’re still holding hands with Bucky. You quickly separate your hand from his, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Your friends seem nice.”

Your head snaps to glance at Bucky, who is already looking at you. A sincere smile graces his face, not a hint of mocking in his eyes. 

“I’m glad you have them looking out for you.” 

You feel your face start to cool down, making you comfortable enough to respond. 

“They drive me nuts sometimes. But they’re the best friends I could ever ask for.” You mean every word. 

You see John nod, so you turn back to look to the elevator doors in front of you. An awkward pause.

“You look beautiful.”

Another pause. “What?”

“It’s what I meant to say earlier. That you look beautiful. Because you do.”

Heat quickly returns to your cheeks, spreading throughout your whole upper body. You give a bashful smile, peeking up at him through your lashes. You gaze into his eyes for a moment.

“Thank you, Johnny. You look quite handsome yourself.” The Major adjusts his hat, covering just the tips of his ears. He returns your gaze with an uncharacteristically nervous grin. The floor gives a slight rattle, elevator door and gate opening to reveal the lobby.

John straightens up, holding out his arm for you to take. You tentatively weave your hand within the crook of his elbow. He gently presses his arm in, bringing your body closer to his. 

You meet your other hand in its position and let Bucky lead you out of the hotel and into the evening air.

✨

“That was so delicious! I never knew that a roast could be so tender…”

The pair of you were walking arm-in-arm down a cobblestone street, just having finished dinner. It was a wonderful time. Bucky had been the perfect gentleman, but made his interest in you clear without being sleezy.

He was entirely focused on you the whole time. He asked questions and was genuinely invested in your answers. Conversation came to the two of you like a duck to water. After a shared glass of wine, his hand had slowly inched towards yours. Soon he had cradled it in his, like you were a precious commodity, until your meals arrived. You could hardly keep your eyes off of each other long enough to even promptly acknowledge the wait staff, which you were sure annoyed some and amused others.

Safe to say, John Egan was doing his best to sweep you off your feet.

You hadn’t discussed any other plans for after dinner, but the walk you’re on now is nice enough to give you reason to stick close together.

Bucky nods along, “And that fruit tart? Incredible.”

You laugh, leaning into your date, “I knew that would be your favorite part. You’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth, don’t you?” 

Bucky holds his hands up with a mischievous smirk on his face, “Hey, I plead the fifth.” 

“I’ll admit, I’ve never seen someone so adamant on having some coffee with his sugar.” You continue to tease him. He nudges you playfully, giving a smooth grin in return.

“Hey, we’re in a war! If you see something sweet,” Bucky surprises you by picking you up and twirling you around, getting a full belly laugh from you as he sets you back on the ground.

“You gotta snatch it up and enjoy it while you can.”

You have a feeling that he wasn’t just talking about food. 

By that point, you’re leaning against his front, hands on both of his shoulders. The moment has shifted into something else. Something different. His eyes roam your face, eventually stopping on your lips. Just as he starts to lean in, the moment is shattered by the sound of instruments starting up nearby. Bucky flinches, cursing the ill-timed disruption. 

Oblivious to his turmoil, you gasp in delight and look around for the source of the music.

“Do you hear that? I think there’s a band playing!” 

You spot a few people walk into what looks like a club. It barely a stone’s throw from where you’re both currently standing. 

Bucky quickly recovers, “Should we grab a drink? Have a dance or two?”

You beam at him, and his heart stutters in his chest once more. After you give a nod, you place your hand in his arm and let him lead you into the club.

The two of you step into the establishment, and the energy is almost electric. There are mills of people walking about, drinking, talking, laughing. There’s a great score more on the dance floor, hopping and jiving along to the band you now knew you’d heard earlier. There weren’t a lot of uniforms present, but the ones that were were RAF.

Bucky guides you to the bar, hand on your back until you're both sat on a pair of stools. Your drinks are quickly ordered and served, so your night continues. You both allow yourselves to talk shop for a moment, so your conversation turns towards what you were working on before your leave. As you get to discussing the more intricate parts of your project, you hear a scoff from behind you.

John quickly looks over your shoulder, spotting the culprit.

“Excuse me, is there a problem here?”

You turn around to find a uniformed man taking a sip of his whiskey, RAF logo plastered on the lapel. He mockingly shakes his head, placing the glass down on the bar.

“No, no problem at all.”

Bucky, ever the confrontationist, persists. “It seems like there’s a problem here.”

You gesture towards the man, silently indicating that he was welcome to speak his mind. 

“It’s not enough that you Yanks come over to our country, destroy our pubs and disrespect our women with your recklessness. But you can’t even keep your own women in check! She should be at home, away from the war, for God’s sake. Taking care of the house and the children. You know, doing feminine duties.”

You had heard all of this before, so it was no skin off your back to hear it again. You roll your eyes and decided to just ignore him. Then the man started to laugh, as if he was in on a private joke.

“I mean, a female mechanic? Between that and your daytime missions, it’s no wonder you’re all dropping like flies.”

You let out an exhale, letting the air stream out through your nose. In your periphery, you see Bucky start to stand— to, no doubt, escalate the situation. You stop him with a hand on his chest. He sits back down, looking between you and the man who had just insulted you. You set your glass down, hopping off the stool and giving a slow clap. 

“I’m so glad to know that some people still live in the Stone Age, where apparently all a woman is good for is cooking and giving birth! Thank you so much for showing us exactly what a lack of education and individual thought looks like! See where we are—over in modern times— women can do whatever the hell they want. That includes fixing your planes and jeeps, operating your radios, driving your trucks, and even training your allies to use machine artillery!”

The RAF soldier realizes what he’s gotten himself into but is backed into a corner of the bar as you pace forward with each scathing word that leaves your mouth.

“Never mind all the bullshit you just spouted about what a woman is fit to do. I think that women can decide for ourselves exactly what we can and cannot do. As for my countrymen, I’m proud to serve alongside them. They go up every day willing to sacrifice themselves so that the rest of us don’t have to. They’re gonna be remembered for their bravery and grit. They’re not cowardly enough to hem and haw and stick up their noses at the thought of a woman doing something other than popping out a kid and ironing their pleats.”

The music has dulled down, but you don’t have the complete attention of the club. That gives you the courage to say your final piece.

“Never you mind. I'm confident that the men I serve with, including the man I have with me tonight, aren’t anything like you. Thank God for that! They're not so…” You take an exaggerated glance towards the man’s crotch, scrunching up your nose. “…small-minded.”

Leaving the gaping man behind, you turn to Bucky and ask if he wants to go get some air. He picks his jaw up off the floor quick enough to nod and lead you back outside into the street.

Hey, hanging around Irene pays off sometimes.

As you step out into the night air, you close your eyes and take a deep breath. You feel John step up behind you, voice carefully asking,

“Hey, are you okay? Birdie?”

You continue to stand with your eyes closed. You just needed a moment.

“I’ve come too far to let anyone’s opinion of me, or my career choices, effect me.”

You open your eyes and look over your shoulder at your date. He gives an understanding nod, stepping closer to you. He places his hands on your arms, rubbing up and down in a soothing motion. You lean back into him, closing your eyes once more, letting him comfort you for the time being.

“Sorry if I ruined the night.”

You can feel a rumble from Bucky’s chest as he chuckles. “Oh, this night’s far from ruined. In fact, that was probably the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

One of your eyes pops open. You crane your neck to peek at him, “Even better than the time you told me about Curt knocking out an RAF officer in one punch?”

“Yep.”

“Winning that bet to get your bicycle?”

“Oh, for sure.”

“Better than your fruit tart from dinner?”

His smile widens, “Okay, let’s not get crazy here. Maybe it was top ten.”

“Top ten?!” You playfully gasp, turning around to face him again. You rest your hands on your hips, “What’s a girl gotta do to rank above a fruit tart around here?”

“Well…” You scoff and shove Bucky at the cheeky smirk he gives you. You’re quickly distracted by the sound of the band inside starting up again. This time with a familiar tune.

“Oh, your song’s on, Johnny!”

Bucky tosses his hat to the side, steps back and gives a very unserious bow. He then sneers with a hyper-nasal impression of the RAF officer you’d just affronted.

“My lady.”

You roll your eyes and give a joking curtsy in return, taking his offered hand. He pulls you into a proper stance for a waltz, which is a complete offset to the jive song that reaches your ears. You both jokingly hop along in the awkward squared formation for a moment, giggling to yourselves. 

He gently pushes on your hip while outstretching his hand, so you take the cue and twirl until you’re both standing at each other’s fingertips. A quick grasp of your hand and a pull twirls you right back into his arms, bumping into his chest. The moment made you burst into laughter, leaning into your dance partner until the song ends. 

The next song is a much slower tune, giving Bucky the chance to pull you in close. You hum along to the band playing, sidling up to the Major’s chest. He places a hand in yours and loops the other around your waist. Your free arm gently drapes under his and over his shoulder, encouraging a lean into his firm body. You both give a slow sway, leading each other back and forth in the quiet echoes of the street. Closer than before.

“You know, I’ve been plucking up the courage to ask you to dinner for a while now.” 

You lay your head on the knuckles of your hand that rest on his shoulder, responding lowly. 

“Really?”

You continue to sway.

“Yeah.”

You’re curious, so you ask, “What made you finally do it?”

He thinks on the answer for a moment, almost chewing on his thoughts. John is not the kind of person to typically contemplate over an answer, so you gift him all the time in the world to respond. You recognize how important that is to him.

“I… I think that it was a lot of little things.” He pulls you in closer. “Your smile, your eyes, the way you talk about the things you love. Birdie, you are so personable with everyone you come into contact with and it’s so magnetic.” 

The flow of compliments shocks you, not expecting this barrage of details to come from the man in front of you. But you dance on anyways.

“But I really think what did me in was yesterday, at the pub. When you looked at me during your song.”

You remember. You know exactly what he was talking about. Whatever he must have felt, you know that you felt it too.

He continues to speak in an intimate tone as you sway along in the street.

“I felt my entire life click into place. It was like everything suddenly made sense. I didn’t have to wonder about what my life was going to be like in five, ten, fifteen years. Because I knew.”

He pulls back to look you in the eye, and the amount of vulnerability in his eyes floors you. 

“I’ll be honest, it scared the shit outta me. It terrified me.”

You understand what he meant. This is all new to him, as it is to you. You pull his forehead to touch yours, noses gently brushing one another, as you offer your best words of comfort in that moment.

“Sometimes, you have to do what scares you the most to find out what’s worth doing.” 

He cups your face, letting his lips ghost against yours. He made his intentions clear, but it was up to you to decide how you move forward.

So, you close your eyes and take the leap.

Your lips press into his, hands stroking the arms that were framing your face. He immediately responds in kind, lips moving in tandem with yours. You melt into him at the reciprocated motion. His arms soon move to your waist, pulling you impossibly close. Your arms reach around his neck, hands resting at the nape of his neck. As he deepens the kiss, you run your hands up, down, and through the dark curls on the back of his head, earning a groan from your partner.

A burst of warmth sparks from within your very being, traveling further and further through your body until you’re consumed by flames. Half of your mind is scrambling to make sense of reality, and the other half is completely consumed by passion.

After a moment, you reluctantly separate from one another, panting to catch your breath. It’s as if the world stopped spinning when you connected, and then started up again when you parted. 

Giving a nervous look to the man you just kissed, you’re elated when he gives you an ear-to-ear grin. He grasps one of your hands in his, intertwining your fingers. His other hand comes up to cup your face again, thumb gently stroking your cheekbone.

You stay silent for the time being, letting the moment marinate. He brings up your joined hands to kiss the back of your palm. Your heart jumps with joy at the sight.

Bucky gives an exhale before breaking the silence.

“You are most definitely worth it.”

[zahri-melitor]

...so in terms of I need a kick up the pants to actually get this fic finished, let me share some of the draft sections I'm CUTTING from a fic I'm working on.

First Patrols

“How about you Cass? What did you get after your first patrol as Batgirl?”

Cass looked down at her hands and cupped them in her lap. “An apple.”

What sort of answer was that?

Dick laid an arm across Cass’s shoulder and she leaned into his side.

“I remember carrying it back to the Clock Tower for you,” said Tim, a distant look in his eyes.

“I bet it tasted like the best thing you’d ever eaten,” Dick said quietly, hugging Cass. 

She nodded. “Yes. Sometimes…I still taste it.”

Jason looked around at the rest of the group. Duke and Damian looked as confused as he felt, but Steph’s eyes were huge and she slowly shook her head and raised a finger to her lips. 

Jason narrowed his eyes at her, but she just mouthed LATER.

But seriously. An apple made Cass, Dick and Tim this emotional? What sort of magical apple was this?

The three seemed lost in their own little world for another moment, then Cass sat up straighter with a small grin. “My first solo Joker patrol…I got told off. By Barbara AND Batman.”

“No costumes!” said Tim, grinning back at her.

“No costumes!” Cass confirmed with a nod.

“She wasn’t supposed to patrol when costumed villains were around,” Dick said cheerfully, looking over Cass’s head at the rest of the group. 

“Well if you’re all going to tell first Joker patrol stories in front of me, how about you, squirt,” said Jason, looking over at Damian.

Damian suddenly looked panicked. “I would rather not,” he said abruptly, as Dick also rapidly straightened up.

“Let’s not.”

Steph broke in. “How about our first patrol together, Damian?”

“It was my case and you broke into it,” said Damian somewhat huffily.

“I took him on a jumping castle afterwards,” Steph said with a grin. “He deserved some fun.”

[wearerandomlyyours]

I had the goddamned strangest dream which led to a weird story idea but I have no clue if I'll ever get around to writing it:

TimeTravel!AU where post Layton IceMav end up back in time in WWII, and after convincing the US that they're not spies (Ice: I'm a goddamned Polish Jew you think I'd willingly spy for the Axis? Interrogator: That's fair) they convince the Navy to let them fly for them.

It's a little rocky at first, having to get used to much slower aircraft, but once Ice and Mav settle in, they're deadly. Their kill counts quickly soar past Ace to Ace-of-Aces, with whoever is in the top spot swapping dogfight to dogfight.

It takes three years for the Luftwaffe to finally take out the two deadliest pilots to ever fly, sacrificing 20 of their brand new jet fighters to bring them down, losing over half in the process.

Iceman and Maverick wake back up in the future and finally understand why everyone had always compared them to the legendary WWII pilots 'Blizzard' and 'Wild Thing'.

[viking-raider]

SALT IN OUR WOUNDS - CHAPTER V

Summary-> After being found out by the Patrol, you try to act the part, to lower the suspension on Gus's presence.

Pairing-> Gus March-Phillipps/Reader

Word Count-> 3.3k

Chapters-> I II III IV

Warnings-> PG-13: AU, Language, Deception, References to WWII, Use of the word Nazi.

Inspiration-> The one and only Chaos Major, Gus March-Phillipps.

Author’s Note-> This is a work of Fiction, pulled from my imagination.

Divider by->  @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

-> If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST as well as my @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’ Ao3-> DRAGON_DWELLER

With the officers gone, Gus helped you to your feet, gently cradling your arm in his hands to look at the steadily bruising print on your bicep. His brows creased, as anger at the officer's roughness with you filled him again and guilt for getting you into this mess consumed him. Laying a hand on his chest, you offered him a soft, reassuring smile, nodding your head slightly.

"I'm sorry." He whispered, tracing the edge of the bruise with his thumb.

"It's not your fault, Gus." You cooed, brows pinching slightly. "It's not like you walked up here and asked us to take you in, We-" You looked at Edmund, who nodded at him. "took you in because we knew it was the right thing to do."

"So, he's not a worker from another village?" Your father's skeptical tone asked, as he regarded the three of you from his chair.

Edmund sighed heavily, rubbing the side of his face. "No, Pops. He's not." He answered, having not liked lying to your father to start with, despite it being needed at the time. Now he was going to have to ask something just as difficult. "She found Gus injured on the beach the other day, and we brought him in, so Dr. Tremblay could treat his wound. I know we told you he was working for me." He explained, moving across to sit beside him. "Now, however, the Patrol, and Trottier, think that Gus is her fiancé. We need to keep that story going. At least, until he's well again and, either they leave the area, or Gus can get back to where he needs to be."

"Can you do that, Papa?" You asked, frowning down at him, concerned for his well-being in the matter, knowing it was a lot asking your father to make merry with a random man who was pretending to be your future husband.

"Well, I have no choice in the matter, do I?" Mael answered, rubbing his shaky hands over his knees. "The mission has already been set up for me by the three of you. I'm just here as support."

"I'll make it as short a mission as possible." Gus replied, giving him a serious, but respectful, expression. "One Major, to another." He added, with a knowing glint in his blue eyes.

"I'll hold you to it." Mael stated, giving him a hard look.

"I guess there's no reason to finish the project downstairs." Edmund commented, sitting at the kitchen table with you and Gus, hands cupped around a fresh mug of coffee.

"Oh, I don't know." You chimed in, setting your tea down. "I really could use some shelves down there." You smirked, giving him a teasing expression.

Edmund gave you a squinty eyed look. "Use some shelves." He parroted, tapping the rim of his cup with his index finger. "Down-stairs."

"Mmhm." You nodded, brows going up, and giggling as Edmund's eyes flickered to Gus. "What are you looking at him for?"

"Wondering if he can get his fiancé under control." Edmund quipped, finally raising the coffee to his mouth.

"Well, I always heard, 'happy wife, happy life'." Gus answered, shifting in his seat, and glancing over at you. "So, if more shelves make her happy." He shrugged his shoulders, a gentle smile on his lips.

"Just because you give her everything she wants, doesn't mean she'll be happy." Edmund replied, an almost sour edge in his voice.

"Are you trying to compare me to Willamena?" You asked, cocking an offended brow at him.

Edmund finished off his coffee and pushed his chair back. "No." He said curtly, standing and striding over to the door, jerking his coat off the hook on the wall beside it. "I'll be back later." He huffed, going out.

"Is he all right?" Gus asked, look to you.

"Edmund will be fine." You sighed, shaking your head. "He and Willa, his wife, haven't been happy together in a very long time. So, it's a sore subject for him." You explained, getting up to take your and Edmund's cups to the sink, but glanced up at the clock. "I have to go down to the shop. We don't have anything for dinner in the refrigerator and I have to see when Remi wants me to work another shift."

"Is it far?" He inquired, coming up behind you and setting his own mug in the sink.

"No." You shook your head, biting your lip as you felt his intense warmth against your back. "Maybe a two minute walk."

"Why don't I go with you?" Gus suggested, cocking his head and smiling at you.

"Do you think you can manage with your wound?" You asked, a bit apprehensive. "I don't want you to over-extend yourself."

Gus's smile brightened and he reached out to squeeze your hand. "I'll be fine, I promise." He assured you, his thumb rubbing your wrist. "I could use the fresh air and sunshine. Plus, it'll help deter any of the Patrol, instead of making them more paranoid, if I stay inside a hundred percent of the time."

"You're right." You nodded, biting your lip, having not thought of what the Patrol would think of Gus staying hidden. "I'll get my shoes and something to wrap up in." You told him, before giving his hand a gentle pressure back.

"I'll wait for you here."

He let go of your hand and moved out of the way. Your cheeks felt warm as you hurried upstairs to grab your cardigan off the back of a chair in your room, pausing to fix your hair in the mirrored back of your vanity and spritz a bit of Soir de Paris. But you stopped, feeling silly.

"Acting like this is a date." You sighed, flustered, plopping down on your chair. fishing your shoes out from under the vanity and securing the buckles. "All right, I'm ready to go." You declared, coming back downstairs, finding Gus patiently waiting for you by the door.

"As am I." He answered, tipping his head politely, while pulling open the door.

"You mind her, Major." Mael called out to Gus, leaning forward in his chair to catch his eye.

"I would think of nothing less." Gus assured him, meeting your father's eye confidently. "I am her fiancé, after all." He quipped, with a wink, then followed you out. "Do we hold hands?" He asked, looking at you, but felt his heart kick at your startled reaction. "I'm only teasing you." He said softly, biting his lip.

"I know." You squeaked, flustered, before catching sight of your sister-in-law coming out of her home across the way. "Oh, that's Willa." You mumbled to Gus, before lifting your arm and waving to her.

"Morning, Willa!" You greeted her, grinning pleasantly.

Willa stared over at you and Gus, pulling a Rose-Tip out of her engraved case and her sky-blue enamel guilloche, sterling silver lighter from the front pocket of her knitted jumper. She didn't return your pleasant acknowledgement, instead lit her cigarette in a smooth and indifferent motion, eyes never moving off the two of you. Gus frowned, cocking a brow at her as he studied her standoffish demeanor; puzzled. She was just anti-social or if she was being rude.

"What’s her issue?" He asked you, his own eyes never leaving Willa.

"She's fine." You answered, sighing at your sister-in-law, your heart yearning to have a connection with her.

You had been excited upon hearing about Edmund courting someone; finally having another woman in the house to talk to, to share in the chores and just confide things to. Things you couldn't do with your father and brother.

However, from the moment you met, Willamena Badeaux had been distant from you.

She wasn't cold, per se, but she hadn't opened up with you either. Willa had been the first female in your close and personal circle, outside of the couple of elderly church ladies that would come over during the day. They would cook meals, clean the house, wash the laundry and just make sure you, Edmund and your father were well taken care of. After your mother had run off with her lover, the assistant shop clerk of the grocery store she frequented on her shopping trips. Which several of you figured were excuses to go and meet up with him; so she could cheat on your poor father.

But, the church women never went out of their way to be motherly or be a true confidant for you. Their love and friendship was out of pity. You were the little girl of a harlot and a mentally broken man, who could barely manage a job, dropping that weight onto his teenage son. So, when Willa came into the picture, you thought you would have a sister, not only to do sisterly things with, but to also learn how to be a woman. That's obviously not how it turned out.

She only came over to the house, if Edmund urged her to. She only held a conversation with you, if you were the one to start it and spurred it to keep going, otherwise she only spoke to Edmund or sat quietly. It only got worse, when the two of them married and moved into the cottage across the street from you and your father. Willa rarely came over for family dinners, meals you were still solely cooking for the four of you. Only occasionally getting a home cooked meal from her, after she and Edmund quarreled over her not performing her wifely duties and dropping the chores of two houses on you. As if you were their maid.

Part of you was sure, Willa detached from you, because she had been under the assumption Edmund only married her to be a mother figure to you. Not because he had been, once upon a time, madly in love with her.

"Do you need anything from the shop, Willa?" You asked, pulling yourself from sinking deeper into that emotional hole. "Gus and I are popping down there now." You explained, raising a hand and motioning to him, casually.

She stared at you for a long minute, before holding up her case, the sunlight glinting off the engraved bronze and mother of pearl. Nodding that you got the hint, you turned and started towards the center of town, with Gus following beside you. The sun was warm, heating the both of you, as well as the modest homes and buildings that lined the street, all converging on the limestone fountain round-a-bout in the middle of Saint-Thurney, spraying an arch of water from the top; a rainbow sparkling in the mist.

"This is really quite a quaint town." Gus commented, glancing about, following you across the sleepy street.

"It is." You replied, smiling up at him, proud of your little adoptive home. "It's almost like we're somewhere else entirely, instead of such a bustling and chaotic world." You told him, always feeling a sense of peace while in Saint-Thurney, even with a World War being waged around you and the town being occupied.

"There's nowhere else I'd rather be." You added softly, stopping beside Remi's General Store. "This is the place!" You declared, waving your hand at the store's front windows, plastered with advertisements for goods he sold inside, several crate displays lined the bottom of one window. "You'll like Remi, he's super sweet." You smiled, reaching out for the door handle, only to have Gus beat you to it.

"Allow me." He purred, pulling it open and standing aside, for you to go in first. "Only proper for your fiancé to open it for you."

You gulped, biting the inside of your lip. "Right." You nodded, clearing your throat. "You're right."

Composing yourself, you went inside, finding Remi at the only register with one of the residents, Mrs. Moulin, the Mayor's wife. They looked up at you and smiled, before their expressions twisted into apprehensive confusion, spotting Gus coming in behind you.

"Morning, Remi. Mrs. Moulin." You greeted them cheerily, while trying to keep casual, like there was nothing out of the ordinary for Gus to be there with you.

"Good morning." Mrs. Moulin addressed you, her eyes still on Gus, as if she expected him to lash out at everyone.

"Who is this?" Remi asked, ignoring his manners, unlike her.

"This is Gus." You grinned brightly, looking back at him and your breath catching in your throat at the feeling of him taking your hand. "He's my fiancé." You declared, heart racing in your chest.

Both Remi and Mrs. Moulin looked floored at the announcement, particularly Remi, who you had worked for for several years and knew you'd never mentioned having a male suitor. Let alone a fiancé! So, selling Remi on Gus being your betrothed was going to be one of the other hurdles you faced, on top of the Patrol and Director General.

"When did this happen?" Remi snapped, dumbfounded and looking almost outraged. "You never mentioned anything!"

Gus rested his free hand on the small of your back, his eyes taking the other man in, sizing him up. "Keeping me your own little secret, Peanut?" He asked, a sparkle coming into his eyes as he looked at you, bashfully.

A zing shot through you, hearing him call by your nickname, your skin breaking out in goosebumps. "I have been." You smirked, bashfully turning your face into his bicep.

"How did the two of you meet?" Remi asked, continuing his interrogation.

"We knew each other from before she moved here." Gus answered, surprising you on how casually he came up with the fabricated detail. "I reached out to her just after I enlisted, and well, I proposed to her a year ago." He stated, smiling at you and caressing your back with his thumb. "Thankfully, she said, yes."

"Would you have gotten yourself shot sooner, if I said no?" You teased him back, getting lost in the moment.

Gus grinned at you, amused, but he felt something deeper. "Definitely." He nodded slowly, his blue eyes soft.

Mrs. Moulin gasped, crossing herself. "You were shot?"

"Yes, madam. I was." Gus replied, tipping his head politely to her. "That's the reason I'm here, and not back in Belgium; fighting." He stated, lightly touching his wound. "This lovely gem is taking care of me." He cooed, touching his thumb to your chin with a wink, making your knees a little weak.

"I thank you, sir." Mrs. Moulin said, straighten her petite body, then glanced around the group. "Fighting those damn Nazis."

Your mouth fell open, surprised to hear the ordinarily prim and proper lady, curse. "Mrs. Moulin." You mumbled, in a state of shock.

"Well, it's true!" She huffed at you, gathering up her grocery bags. "I'm sick of them being in my town, marching about, like they own it."

"I'd be careful with what you say, Mrs. Moulin." Remi warned, as she moved for the door. "You never know who you can trust." He said, eyeing Gus.

"Luckily, everyone here is trustworthy." You chimed, with confused surprise. "Have a good day, Mrs. Moulin. Say hello to the Mayor for me."

"Oh, I will, my dear." She answered, reaching out to rest her hand on your arm, looking between you and Gus. "You make a beautiful couple. You must let my brother, Zane, marry you when the time comes." She said, with a sweet smile.

Your cheeks blazed at her words. "We'll put him at the top of consideration." You promised her, offering her your own soft smile.

"Good." She nodded, patting your arm and gave Gus a cheeky wink, before scuttling out the door.

"Do I have a shift this week, Rem?" You asked, turning your attention back to your boss, who hadn't taken his judging eyes off of you.

"I haven't gone over the schedule yet this week." He answered, gruffly. "So, I'll have to let you know."

"All right." You nodded, feeling the cold coming off of him in waves. "Well, I have a bit of shopping to do for the house." You said, trying to shrug it off as Remi's reluctance to trust with the uncertainty of war, having lost both his brothers.

Gus stepped away from you, to grab a small hand basket from the stack by the door, holding it for you as you puttered around the modest aisles and freezers, grabbing a few items and placing them in the basket.

"Everything is so bare." He commented, watching you grab a box of oatmeal, only one of four on the scarce shelf.

"We're being rationed." You replied, sighing as you tucked a box of dry pasta in with the rest of your groceries. "Remi only gets a shipment of things once a week to stock the shelves. If you want something and don't get here early enough for it..." You trailed off, shrugging your shoulders dismissively.

“Suppose, being enlisted for so long, I’ve been a bit blind to the tribulations of civilians.” Gus frowned, his brow creasing heavily. “Not that I didn’t know about rationing. I just didn’t…” He shook his head, a hardness coming into his blue eyes. “Damned Nazis.” He growled, rolling his jaw.

You rested your hand on his elbow, looking up at him with a soft expression. “It is what it is, Gus.” You told him, quietly. “But it will change. We’ll beat them and everything will go back to how it should.”

“As it should.” He echoed, meeting your eye for a long moment.

What will happen after the War ends? No matter who wins. I’ll have to go back to the Army. I’ll have to leave her. Could I come back after my service? Would you want me to come back? Could I…

He shook his head hard, trying to shove the thoughts away. It was delusional to think such things, he was getting too involved and attached. He needed to keep a barrier between the two of you, to protect you against the danger he presented as an officer of the British Army.

“Well, what’s for dinner?” He asked, forcing that wall back up and peeking into the basket he carried for you.

“Um..” You cocked a brow at the basket’s contents taking stock of it and what you knew was at home. “I could make a simple stew. Wouldn’t be too much, but it would be something in our bellies.”

“I have faith in your cooking abilities.” Gus smiled, the sparkle coming back into his eyes.

“Kind of you.” You giggled shyly. “I think that's about all we need.” You said, biting your lip and glancing about the modest shop. “We can get rung up.” You smiled, heading towards Remi at the register. “How’s your Mum, Rem?” You asked, as he slowly added up everything in your basket.

Remi’s mother had suffered great shock at the loss of her two older sons, Duncan and Andre, who had enlisted and been shipped off to the thick of the war. Duncan had died in the Battle of Crete, taking shrapnel that nicked a serious artery and bled to death before anyone could do anything for him. The most tragic though, was Andre. His squad was ambushed by a German one and overtaken. It had been a hard time for many in the town, when they received the telegraph informing them of Andre officially being MIA. Every time Remi’s mother was seen, she was balling her eyes out and lamenting, prophesying that he too would die as her oldest did.

Two months later though, another telegraph arrived informing them that Andre had been found alive, but being held in a German Prisoner of War camp. His mother was relieved to hear he was alive, however she was still devastated to hear of his situation. Andre survived for a while in the camp. Two whole years, to be exact. But the fated telegraph ultimately arrived, one blustery day, and practically the entire town heard her screaming.

So, in that sense, you and Remi had developed a friendship based on an understanding of parents with mental health issues, inflicted by wars in some way.

“She’s doing all right.” Remi answered, not looking up from his task.

You blinked at him, ordinarily he would elaborate on how his mother was doing when you asked, even if nothing had changed about her. But you realized quickly where his reluctance came from, feeling Gus shift beside you.

Men. You rolled your eyes.

“Can I have Willa’s usual as well?” You asked, ignoring the thick air between Gus and Remi.

“Sure.” Remi nodded, half turning on his heels to grab the red and white, Rose Tip box and tucked it into the bag. “I’ll put this on your tab.” He said, setting it in your reach.

“Thanks.” You smiled uneasily at him, as Gus scooped the bag up and tucked it carefully against his good side. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow.” You told him, before leaving the shop and tracing your steps back home.

“What’s wrong?” Gus inquired, glancing down at you.

“Nothing.” You informed him, licking your lips and shaking your head. “Guess he’s just having a rough day.” You brushed it off.

Gus moved out of the cellar and into the cramped guest room upstairs, nothing separating the two of you now, but the wall of your closet. The two of you agreed it was much more agreeable to have him there than the cellar in the event the Patrol and the Inspector returned. They know doubt would, their suspension of Gus was all too obvious. It would also be more comfortable for him in the guestroom, giving him a softer bed, the luxury of sunlight and fresh air from the window that overlooked the back garden. As well as the beach, beyond the garden wall.

But as Gus healed and regained his strength again, he knew he had to find a way back to his men, and the war. He had to find out what happened to his men, if they were still alive. How he was to do that, was another matter altogether.

The last thing he recalled of the group was infiltrating a Nazi Intelligence Camp to rescue one of their own, Geoffrey Appleyard. They had gotten into the camp and things had gone well. He and his second hand man, Anders Lassen, moved smoothly together before nodding at each other and Gus looked back to Henry Hayes, jerking his head for the younger man to follow him. They moved swiftly through the camp, taking Nazis out left and right and making the camp practically useless for any that tried to use it again; with Freddy Alvarez setting up a plethora of explosives as a finishing touch.

Gus was proud of his men. No one had been seriously injured, beyond a handful of scratches. It had been one of their best in and out missions in the two years the unofficial, rag-tag group had been put together. That alone should have given Gus a measure of paranoia.

Missions should never go so easily.

The shot rang out and everyone in the group tensed, the jolly celebration that filled them instantly vanished as they dropped their looted goods and scrambled for their weapons, pulling out guns and bows. Gus hated being caught by surprise, especially by damned Nazis. He gritted his teeth, returning fire, while trying to assess the situation. They were a mile and a half from shore, where their boat was waiting to take them back to the safety of Allied Lines. There was a sparse covering of forest between them and their extraction point, that could give them some shelter. As much as Gus March-Phillippss hated being surprised, he hated running. But hearing Anders call out that there were too many and ammo was running low, Gus gave the signal to retreat to the boat, taking up the rear to ensure none of his men lagged behind.

It was him that lagged behind.

He felt the hot burn of lead piercing his side, faltering only momentarily, his eyes focused on the back of Lassen’s head, breath from his lungs starting to wheeze in his throat and his vision spot. Gus’s memory skipped in and out from there, like a scratched record. Spotting the boat ahead of the group and urging them forward, the heat of blood soaking into his clothing and his knees feeling like jelly. He couldn’t recall if he made it to or onto the boat with the others, then somehow fell overboard, or something more happened.

There were dark bits lurking in his mind of freezing cold enveloping him, no doubt of him in the Channel.

“Your father’s very into following the movements of the War.” Gus said one morning, sipping a cup of coffee as the two of you finished breakfast.

“He is.” You nodded.

“Does he only follow the major events or…” He trailed off, meeting your eye.

“No, he follows whatever is reported on or gossiped about in newspapers and the radio.” You replied, sensing his intent and sudden interest in your father’s hobby. “Why?” You asked, cautiously.

“I need to know what happened to my men.” Gus told you, bluntly and honestly. “I have to know if they’re still alive, dead or in prisoner of war camps. Perhaps your father has some information that could be useful to me, on that front.”

“How?” You shook your head, confused.

“I was injured during a mission.” He divulged to you, in a low voice. “It wasn’t an official or authorized mission, but there might be a possibility of it being reported on.” He cast an eye over his shoulder to the sitting room, where your father lounged in his usual spot. “Do you think he’d discuss it with me?”

You snorted at him and lifted your tea cup to your lips. “Do I think so? It’s more a matter of getting him to quit, once you get him going.” You said, taking a deep gulp of the rich, brown liquid. “But, yes.” You nodded, assuring him. “I’m sure my father would likely share any information he has on the War with you. Just wait until later in the morning. He likes to nap after breakfast, and he’ll be more receptive and energetic about the subject.”

“Excellent.” Gus smiled, patting your arm. “Would you like to go on a walk with me, to pass the time?”

“I think that would be quite agreeable.” You cooed, finishing off your tea.

[evidenceof]

Suiting the Ex-Soldier for Collier's Magazine. January 27, 1945. An article I dug up a while back while researching for Make Do and Mend.

Snippets from a Collier's Magazine feature directed at soldiers bound for home after the war, recommending that they allocate half of their supposed savings to shopping for civvies. Some more observations on menswear after the war under the cut.

Cinched waists and emphasized shoulders became popular (thank you soooo much to the Ike jacket), similar to their pinks and greens. More (read: smaller) patterns became available—striped shirts were popular but the era introduced small checkers and dots. The article makes suggestions for color pairings (I imagine color must either be a relief or a shock after years of seeing olive drab) like thi

Socks should be at least as dark as the suit, never lighter, and they can be ribbed, striped or checked. If he wants contrast, wine shades look well with blue or gray suits, and green sets well with either gray or brown suits.

Ties were wider after the war and had room to have wackier patterns and slowly became a means for self-expression. The popularity of brown in men's clothing shot up after the war (1947-1949), while green continued to lose popularity. Tan was The Spring and Summer color for menswear. Unlike in the U.K., cloth wasn't rationed too much after the war in the United States. Some of the biggest changes they saw was swapping wool for worsteds, the former used to create uniforms for the war effort. Black tie events were a little looser, people pooh-poohing tuxedoes and opting instead for dinner jackets or sports/pea coats for events.

Some examples from different catalogues that I really loved:

[tenderjock]

outstanding leadership, extraordinary initiative, & steadfast devotion to duty

Daniel&Jack&Peggy, and medals earned in wartime.

"You ever notice that Thompson doesn't talk about the Navy Cross?"

Peggy froze in the middle of adding milk to her tea. After a moment, she put the bottle down and stirred carefully, thoughts racing. Without turning to Daniel or letting her surprise inflect her voice, she said, "What do you mean?"

Daniel shrugged, a little jerkily. "I don't know. Everything's always bigger and better with him, you know? He'll tell you how much he earns or how long his - ah, you know, he'll brag. But he changes the topic every time it comes up."

She tapped the spoon against the side of her cup. "Perhaps he -" She broke off, struggling for the words that would turn Daniel's attention away from the issue. "Perhaps he simply doesn't like to talk about things that happened over there. We've all been there; it's never anything like the medals or newsreels seem to say it was."

"Yeah, sure," Daniel said. "It just doesn't seem like Thompson to not tell everyone he knows about it."

"You don't talk about your Purple Heart," Peggy pointed out, not ungently. Daniel stiffened.

"That's different."

"It is," Peggy agreed. "It's different for all of us."

A pair of familiar footsteps joined them at the office commissary before Daniel could respond. Peggy glanced back down into her cup and added a generous spoonful of sugar.

"I see my top agents are spending their workday productively," Jack remarked, his smirk a sharp line in his face.

Peggy shot him a rather arch look. "I see Chief Thompson is having an equally productive day," she said. "Have you admitted defeat yet?"

Jack made a face. He'd been fighting, along with Agent Faut and some rather obnoxious pencil-pushers, to balance the New York SSR's budget for the better part of the week. Most of his morning had been spent in a meeting with the senator's aide.

"I got 'em on the ropes," he said. Daniel clears his throat, rather judgementally.

Peggy isn't quite sure who he's been more upset with recently: Jack, for taking the promotion, or her, for not being bothered by it.

His attitude was a bit annoying, to be honest. Frankly, she was never going to receive a Medal of Honor or the position as New York Chief, no matter who advocated for her or what evidence was presented to the U.S. government. Daniel had to know that, too; the man wasn't stupid. And he had to realize that having Jack in charge, where they could keep an eye on him, was better than any alternative.

"We were discussing wartime medals," Peggy said instead of all that. Jack stiffened; Daniel noticed; Peggy rolled her eyes. "I once knew a man who earned an Order of the Bath for strategic actions in battle." She considered the memory. "He had terrible teeth."

"Order of the Bath?" Jack said, disbelieving.

"For conspicuous heroism taking place in a sauna," Daniel said. Both men laughed. Peggy sniffed. They had no respect, these Americans.

"What about Carter?" Jack asked, still laughing.

Peggy blinked at him. "What about me?" she said.

"What kind of awards did Agent Peggy Carter deign to accept?"

"I didn't earn any," Peggy said stiffly. "Women aren't combatants."

That's a bit of an oversimplification, she will admit in the privacy of her own mind. There were a few medals she could have theoretically earned, from the Americans and her own government, had circumstances regarding her service not been so, well, unique.

Some Englishwomen had received medals, but their service had been different than hers - usually as pilots or somesuch, not the covert missions she had in occupied France and Nazi Germany.

She may have qualified from the U.S. Women's Army Corps Service Medal, although it perhaps would have required Colonel Phillips to pull a few strings. Peggy had occupied a strange place in the war: a woman, first of all, and therefore not allowed in combat or eligible to receive medals for heroism under fire. But she had also been a spy, someone who technically didn't exist; and a British operative working for the Americans. Both sides had simply sort of - cut her loose, after victory was obtained and she was no longer useful.

It was only due to Colonel Phillips' recommendation that she had this job in the first place. Peggy pursed her lips, then shook herself out of her thoughts.

Only to find the two men staring at her like they had just been dunked in ice water. It was a bit unsettling. She took a sip of tea.

"Anyway," she said. "I actually do have work to do. Daniel, try to keep in mind what I was saying."

Jack was frowning at her. Daniel was frowning, too, but his gaze flicked to Jack once when she spoke, before he nodded.

"Sure thing," he said, and shifted on his crutch out of her way to let her back to her desk.

: :

Peggy frequently found herself the last person in the office, nowadays, with the possible exceptions being Daniel and Jack. Right now, Daniel's dark head of curls was bent over his desk and Jack's light was still on in his office, although the blinds were drawn.

They've all been working in a companionable silence for the last two hours. Daniel was eating something that smelled hot and spiced at his desk; little noises kept coming from the Chief's office, the sound of a file cabinet being opened or the desk chair being pushed back.

For Peggy's part, she's been combing through reports of gun sales to women matching Dottie's description in the tri-state area. She has found three that warrant a closer look, and was just about to get herself another cup of tea and really settle in when Jack's door opened and he slouched out.

He stopped in front of her desk. She looked up at him and raised an eyebrow. He stared at her for a second, looking troubled.

"Yes?" she ventured, when it became clear he wasn't going to say anything to her.

"Can I talk to you?" he asked, rather abruptly.

Daniel was looking at them now. Peggy drummed her fingernails on her desk, then nodded and followed Jack into his office, where he shut the door behind them.

He then proceeded to stand at his desk, hands braced against the wood, staring blankly. Peggy was honestly starting to get worried, not that she thought letting Jack know that was a good idea.

"Chief Thompson?" she said. She didn't touch his arm, but it was a close thing.

Jack opened his desk drawer and pulled out a box. It looked like a large jewelry box and was made of navy blue leather, with gold detailing. Peggy didn't need to ask what was inside it - even if it hadn't had the name of the medal printed on it in little gold letters, she would have known.

"You should have it," Jack said. His face was grim and set.

"Jack!" Peggy said, shocked.

"You should have it," he insisted. "I don't - it shouldn't be me, anyway. And you deserve it, Peggy. We both know that." Jack glanced at her, then glanced away. "I was going to put it out on my desk but - I couldn't. I can't. You should have it."

Peggy stared at him, feeling like her heart was in her throat. Jack Thompson was a liar, and a fraud, and a self-serving, arrogant pain-in-the-arse to work with, but sometimes he still surprised her.

And, anyway, it would do no one any favors to make this into a bigger deal than it already was. She nodded, and carefully took the box and tucked it under one arm.

"I'll keep it safe," she said quietly. Then, more briskly, "Do you want me to brief you on the progress I've made in the Underwood case?"

"Christ," Jack said, rubbing his eyes. He laughed, a little wetly. "Yeah, that'd be great. Tell me you got something."

They talked for a few minutes. Jack agreed with her that there was meat in the rumor of a bank robbery being planned, although neither of them could fathom why a notorious Communist would want to rob a bank. When Peggy left his office with the Navy Cross in hand, Jack was pouring himself a Scotch, looking exhausted and like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Daniel looked up as Peggy fastened the clasps of her purse and got her coat. "You leaving?" he asked, and then considered her more closely. "Are you okay, Peggy?"

"Yes," she said. "Just, you know." She looked at Jack's office door and clutched the rectangular shape in her purse tighter. "I need to get home."

"I'll walk you out," Daniel said, still watching her. "I'm just about done here anyway."

Peggy waited while he grabbed his coat, hat, and briefcase. She had to watch her pace a bit when she's walking with Daniel, but the company was usually worth it. Tonight, she was tired and a little shaken and a bit too reflective, and she appreciated the distraction of having to make small talk with Daniel as they walked to the subway station together.

As they were waiting for her train - hers was due in four minutes; Daniel's, in six - Daniel said, apropos of nothing, "I guess I just never expect Thompson to care enough about anything to feel, I don't know." He looked across the platform blankly. "Shame or guilt or, or loss. Or anything."

Peggy looked at him. "I know what you mean," she said.

"You know why he doesn't talk about the Navy Cross." It wasn't a question. Daniel wasn't looking at her.

Peggy tucked her heavy purse tighter to her torso and breathed out slowly. "Yes," she said. Just yes, and nothing else.

Daniel nodded, still staring across the empty platform. "Is it something I should know about?"

She gave that some thought. "It's not something I'm going to tell you," she said finally. "Not without Jack's permission, which I don't think he'd give. But it doesn't change who he is, not really. It might explain some of what he's done, recently." Then, because she wanted to be honest with Daniel: "Although you may not like the explanation."

He dipped his chin to his chest. "Alright," he said, then again, quieter, "Alright."

Her train arrived, and Peggy boarded, wishing Daniel a good night. Peggy observed him through the car's dirty, cracked window, a dark figure braced on his crutch, looking down at the concrete beneath his shoes. Peggy put one hand into her purse, pressing her palm against Jack's medal as she watched him.

As the train pulled away from the platform, Daniel seemed to shake himself and turned toward the opposite tracks, where his train going the other direction was arriving.

[winniemaywebber]

Honeysuckle Rose • Part 4

part one part two part three

masterlist

mood board by @hephaestn

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

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

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

“Maybe it's the booze?”

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

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

“Why not?” Olive giggles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What are you doing?”

“Wanna hold your hand.” 

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

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

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

“London? Wow, why?”

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

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

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

“Tough, huh?”

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

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

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

“Hey, no. You gotta stop that.”

“Why, Dougie?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Goodnight, Dougie.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi, Olive,” she smiles. 

“Joan,” she greets. “How are you?”

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

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

“I do wish you two had worked out–”

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“Granny!” Olive shrieks. 

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you need something for lunch?”

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me, too.”

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Coming right up. No sugar?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I assume so,” Olive shrugs. “Why?”

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

“Hi, Benny. How was your day?”

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

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

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

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

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

“So, how was your first day?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ah, shit. Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[kilojulietsierra]

You Promised - 1940s James "Bucky" Barnes x OFC

I LOVE 1940s Bucky so much and so I wrote this!

Summary: Bucky finally wins the favor of the pretty new girl in the neighborhood and together they make the most of the week before he ships out. Bucky makes her a promise the night before he leaves, and he intends to keep it.

Warnings: all my work is considered 18+, shameless flirting the both of them lol, fluff, angst,talk of war, there’s a tiny altercation in a dancehall, protective Bucky, allusions to smut, allusions to premarital sex which was frowned upon, nightmare mention, minor ofc is a refugee, pre serum Steve makes a couple appearances, happy ending

~~~

Bucky had seen her a handul of times around the neighborhood. Had done a bit of chatting up the neighbors to learn the little about her he could. She was new, relatively, to their block. Mrs. Martin in his building had said she remembered her folks before they had moved away, the girl had just been a baby then. He'd heard her talking to Frankie at the deli and her accent wasn't from around here, she'd grown up somewhere else. Mr and Mrs Lewis had even told him, just the other day when he'd stopped to help change their tire, that her family had moved back in to take care of a sick grandmother. Her mothers or fathers side they didn't know, but they lived in the place next to them and she was "such a sweet girl James, she'd straighten you right up."

Today she was walking out of the grocery a paper sack in one arm and a small stack of library books in the other. He smiled. Tis was his chance and he was more than happy to take it. Part of him, admittedly the slgihtly shallow part, wished he was in his uniform or at least dressed better than his work clothes.

That didn't stop him from picking up his pace and cutting across the street to bump into her. "You sure got your hands full. Here let me help." He ducked his head to catch her eye and spare her an easy grin as he gestured towards the sack of groceries.

Her eyes were a pale, sea glass green and they were sharp and skeptical as she appraised him. "I can manage, thank you though."

"No, not a chance, my ma would never forgive me." He deftly snagged the bag from her, grinning wider. "Besides, I think we live across the street from eachother. It's Lettie right?"

Those pretty green eyes narrowed at him, her brow furrowed "It is…"

"James," He settled her groceries in one hand and extended his other to her, "Everyone calls me Bucky though."

"Strapping young man like you can't get them to stop?" She quipped even as she held her hand up for him to take, "Your teeth don't seem that bad to me." One single brow arched and her face was passive as she held her books tight and walked on down the street. Not waiting for him to follow.

Bucky smiled wide as he fell in step beside her, keeping his stride slow and leisurely. "Cute," He looked down at her but she didn't look back. Unphased he elaborated, "Buchanan is my middle name, family name."

"Ohhh," She looked at him finally, tucked her sleek red hair behind her ear as she turned to walk backwards eying him in a way he couldn't quite place. "You're the Barnes boy. Mrs. Lewis told me to watch out for you." She looked pleased with herself, thinking she'd got some sort of upperhand.

Still grinning Bucky picked up his pace, just so he could step past her and lean down close and say, "Funny, she told me the same thing about you." And he continued on ahead of her biting his bottom lip and waiting.

"Now, just a minute, what is that supposed to mean?" She jogged to catch up to him again.

He didn't respond just smiled, kept walking, and threw her a lazy wink as they walked on down the street.

At the next corner she turned on him again, "What's your angle Barnes?"

"What angle doll?" He countered her overly formal use of his name with one that earned him a slght pink flush to her cheeks.

"Just a nice neighbor boy, carryin' my groceries? What is it? All the other girls in Brooklyn had their fill?" She shifted the books in her arms and Bucky saw one was a Tree Grows in Brooklyn.

"No angle," He nodded his head for her to continue and went out on a limb as he put his free hand at her shoulder to turn her and keep her moving, "Okay, that's not entirely true," He nudged her forward again smiling at the triumphant look on her face when she spun on him. "I just mean, that you are prettier than any girl I've ever seen and I've been dying for a chance to steal just a little bit of time with you." He slowed to a stop in front of what he knew was her building and grinned when she continued on a few steps before she noticed.

Her eyes were calculating and predatory as she scrutinized him. Looking for the angle, as she had said.

He noticed then the second book was a copy of the Hobbit he'd borrowed himself years ago.

"Alright, I'll bite, a little bit of time for what exactly?" She looked almost unimpressed, with herself, for asking.

Licking his lips Bucky smiled and took a step closer so she would have to tilt her chin up to look him in the eye. Which she did, standing her ground, and he loved it. "To ask if I could take you out one night this week."

"Just one night huh?" Her face didn't change as she said it

Was she really…? Bucky faltered the slightest bit, cocked his head to the side as he tried to figure out the real meaning in her words. He pushed his luck. "Every night if you'd let me."

She smiled. The barest tilt of her lips and Bucky felt ten feet tall. He was in love with this girl already, or would be if he wasn't careful.

"How about we just start with tomorrow night?" Her face softened but her eyes kept the spark in them.

"Done." Bucky didn't hesitate. "There is one catch though."

She rolled her eyes and then they both had to step away from the stoop as one of her neighbors exited the building. Both of them mumbled their apologies before she continued, "Always is."

"Not anything bad." Bucky assured her. "See i've got this friend, my best friend really, he's a great guy but shy."

Lettie nodded, eyes skeptical again. "So you actually want me go out with this friend?"

"God no!" The moment the words left his mouth he cringed, but the sting of his own embarrasment faded when she chuckled and ducked her eyes to the sidewalk. He caught a peak at the tip of her tongue as it wetted her lips and his confidence came back, "I'm keeping you all to myself sweetheart, trust me."

Her cheeks were pink when she looked back up at him and she was biting the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling too wide. "So, this friend…"

"Steve. Great guy. He just, needs a little push out of his shell if you know what I mean." Bucky almost felt bad, but God help him he desperatley wanted to find his pal a girl. "Was just thinkin' maybe you had a friend, we could make it a double date."

Lettie's eyes were skeptical again and she glanced behind her before she responded, "A friend that likes shy boys or a friend that likes any boy?"

When he caught her meaning Bucky licked his lips and looked her up and down, "Oh sweetheart, surely you don't have friends like that? I had you figgured for a good girl." He was going to fucking marry this girl, God help him.

She flushed a darker shade of pink and laughed, rolled her eyes again but settled her greens back on his blues after a heartbeat. Lettie licked her lips and looked him up and down herself. "Most of the time." Her eyes locked on his mouth as Bucky sunk his teeth into his bottom lip for a fraction of a second.

Unable to stop himself Bucky hummed approvingly and hunted for her gaze again before he spoke, "Then why don't you bring one of your nice, sweet friends with you tomorrow night and she can keep Steve company while you and me see what kinda trouble we can get into?"

Lettie answered by taking back her brown paper bag full of groceries and taking the first few steps up to the front of the building before she turned and said. "You better be right here by seven tomorrow night, Barnes." She settled him with a look which softened after a second. "Earlier if you want to make a good impression."

"Yes ma'am." His cheeks hurt from smiling and he shoved his hands in his pockets. She was almost to the door before he called after her, "Hey sweetheart," she was grinning when she turned around, her face still skeptical but in a teasing sort of way now. Bucky took a few steps backwards towards his side of the street, "Wear somethin' you can dance in."

~~~

Bucky was outside her building at 6:45pm, fighting the urge to smoke a cigarette while he waited.

The front door opened at 6:50pm and Lettie poked her head out, "Why Mr. Barnes, I'm proud." She sounded snarky but she was smiling as Bucky jogged up the steps to meet her. She pushed the door open wider and waved him in.

He stepped right up in front of her and took the door, looking over her he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. "Well hello to you too doll." She looked so pretty he had to force his eyes to meet hers. "You look gorgeous."

She rolled her eyes but blushed that rosy pink color that he liked. "You look pretty sharp yourself."

He'd worn his uniform. Shined his boots and everything. "

That'll help." She added cryptically as she started up the stairs.

Bucky paused at the bottom, "Help with what?" Lettie bounced back down a couple stairs until they were eye to eye. "Help convince papa you're a fine young man that's gonna take good care of me."

"Oh," Bucky felt a rush roll through him as she grabbed his hand. He used the hold to keep her in place as he held her gaze intenesly and added, "I'm gonna take real' good care of ya sweetheart."

Her father had been nice enough, intimidating but Bucky had won him over quickly. Her mother was a looker with the same red hair as Lettie. A younger sister that he'd seen poking her head around the corner to sneak a peak had the same pretty green eyes and looked like she'd be a world of trouble herself in a few years. If the way Lettie and her mother had both scolded the younger girl and sent her scurrying was any inclination.

"I'm impressed." Lettie said once they were back down on the street.

"Already?" Bucky teased and laughed when she playfully shoved him towards traffic. "Kidding." He tugged her close and looked her over, "Thought springing your folks on me was gonna send me runnin'?"

She didn't answer but that was answer enough. Bucky picked up her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. Lettie smiled and rolled her eyes even as she let his lips linger. He liked that little bit of attitude mixed with that soft and sweet. He liked it a lot.

"We should uh, we should go. I told Isaline we would meet her at the station. I wasn't sure where we were going." Lettie seemed the slightest bit flustered but her eyes were still bright.

Bucky smiled, wrapped her hand in the crook of his elbow and led her off down the street. "So is this the nice friend or the really nice friend." He coughed out a laugh as she smacked him in the chest.

"Isaline is a sweetheart, she's a little shy herself but only, well, you'll see."

When he watched her greet her friend at the station the rapid chattering in a different language caught him off guard. He stood back, a little awkward, but with an easy, charming smile on his face.

"James this is Isaline, Isa this is James, or Bucky as he somehow prefers to be called." Lettie introduced them with a big smile.

The friend was pretty and Letties comment made more sense when he heard how heavily accented her English was. On the train the girls sat and chatted while Bucky stood, one hand on the rail and listened as they went back and forth between English and French. As they left the train Bucky grabbed Lettie's elbow softly and leaned into her ear, "Aren't you just a treat?"

The girl with him blushed a bright red but smiled, "What do you mean?"

"You speak French?"

"My family lived in Montreol for most of my childhood." Lettie lowered her voice, "Isaline's family fled France a couple years ago, before…" Lettie trailed off.

Bucky nodded, "Brave girl." He whispered back before he wrapped Letties hand through his arm again. Isa and Lettie linking arms and letting Bucky lead them down the street to the little dancehall he liked best. Steve would like this girl, even if she was shy, she was pretty for sure, a killer smile and brave enough to escape the Nazis. Right up his best friends alley.

~~~

Steve was waiting for them out front. Standing off to the side, hands in his pockets, wearing that same old jacket. Bucky had to grin. He whistled then called out, "Hey punk, over here!"

When Bucky introdruced him to Lettie and Isa Steve was ever the gentleman. Then as Isa rattled something off in French to Lettie, Bucky and Steve exchanged a look. Steve furrowed his brow at his best friend, Bucky just smiled and shrugged.

Lettie chuckled and then linked her arm through Bucky's, whcih pleased him greatly, as she addressed Steve. "She wants me to tell you that she's sorry her English isn't so good, but that she'd like it very much if you would help her practice some tonight. Preferably while she's running her fingers through your hair." Isa giggled beside her friend and Bucky outright laughed.

Steve gulped as Bucky clapped him on the shoulder and pushed him towards the door with the music spilling out. "What're you laughing at Buck?"

Bucky laughed again as Isa hooked her arm in Steve's and began to drag him forward at a jog. "I think we're both in trouble tonight pal." He felt a pinch in his side as he laughed again and turned to tip his gaze down to Lettie, "What was that for doll?" With his same easy grin he walked her towards the line to get in, his pace a slow kind of swagger. Feeling good in his uniform with a gorgeous girl on his arm.

"Isa is not trouble." She defended her friend, "She's just... flirtacious. It's 'cause she's French."

"I'll say." Bucky laughed again, falling in line behind the flirty French girl and Steve. While they waited Bucky ducked down to whisper in her ear, "What would a guy have to do for you to whisper to him in French and play with his hair? Hmm?"

Lettie rolled her eyes and flicked the bill of his cap, "He'd have to take me on at least two more dates."

Bucky smirked and raised his brows as he straightend his cap. In his head he counted out the days until he shipped out. "I think I can make that happen." "

Oh do you?" Lettie smirked as they came to the door, "I think I'll be the one that decides that Mr. Barnes."

He kept smiling as he paid for the four of them to get in, "Y'know, technically, it's Sargent Barnes."

Her cheeks were rosy from her permanent smirk as she shook her head, "Whatever you say Bucky." She teased him, not giving him the satisfaction of acting impressed.

With one hand on her back he guided her through the door behind Steve and Isaline. Once she was in front of him he leaned in to whisper beside her ear again, "You're just a little firecracker aren't you?"

There was a brief moment where she halfstepped, intentionally causing him to bump into her back as he followed her and on reflex he set a hand at her waist to steady them both. WIth him close Lettie glanced over her shoulder and gave him a look, "I thought I was a treat?"

Bucky liked the way she felt just barely pressed against him and the way her waist fit so perfectly in his hand. He smiled, a little mischevious and leaned in so close his nose brushed her hair, "Girl can be both. Perfect combination if you ask me." He caught the way she blushed and smiled wide just before she looked away from him and it was doing dangerous things to his ego.

~~~

Lettie knew she wasn't the best dancer but she had been excited. Impatient even to let Bucky take her out onto the floor. It hadn't taken him long and they'd quickly abandoned their friends in the corner to camp out on the dancefloor. They danced song after song until the band took a break, She was warm and a little breathless when she had nodded and let Bucky pull her towards the back of the hall for something cold to drink.

She stood a little behind Bucky while he spoke with a server behind the bar and busied herself trying to spy across the room at Isa and Steve. Neither of them had ran away yet, which based on what Bucky had told her while they danced was an improvement. She hadn't seen them out on the floor even once, but it looked like Steve had a bit of a pink hue to his cheeks which made Lettie laugh to herself.

"Hey honey, you gonna give anyone else a go tonight?"

"Excuse me?" She turned towards the unfamiliar voice.

"You heard me sweetie. You been lettin' that pretty boy hog you all night. Think I should get a turn, huh?"

The disgust on her face was evident when she spat back, "I think you should quit callin' me names and beat it."

"You little s…" The mans hand was a blur of motion but it froze midair when Buckys hand caught him by the wrist.

"That's a real bad idea." Bucky said calm as can be as he held an iron grip on the man with his left hand and reached towards Lettie with his right. He twisted the mans wrist just enough to cause some discomfort and push him back.

"You outta put muzzle on your bitch there." The man snarled even as Bucky twisted his arm further.

Before Bucky could retalliate though Lettie was pushing past him, "You outta put a bag over your head so the rest of us ain't gotta suffer that ugly mug."

"Okay doll, that's enough." Bucky dropped the mans wrist in favor for catching Lettie around the waist and pulling her back, spinning her around behind him once again. He saw the motion out of the corner of his eye and groaned, "You're killin' me." He caught the other mans sloppy haymaker easily and twisted him around with it, pinning it at what looked to be an extremely uncomfortable angle. He shoved the man back towards his group of friends, "You boys, better sort your pal out there." Bucky gestured to the still fuming, stumbling, loudmouth and then turned back to Lettie

"Nuh-uh." Bucky shook his head as he pushed her back by the hip, "Leave it doll, let's go." He reached for the two cokes he'd bought and gently ushered her back from the scene of the incident.

"You're just gonna let him…"

"I…" Bucky drew out the syllable to emphasize a point, "Am keepin' you outta trouble."

Lettie chewed on her lip, not noticing the way Bucky was figinting back a grin, "You should've let me…"

"Let you what doll? Sock him?' Bucky glanced over his shoulder then back to her, "Was gonna do it myself till you went tearin' after him like a prize fighter."

The scowl on her face softened slightly and Bucky tilted his head to one side, smiling down at her, "Sweetheart, I think you did enough damage without either one of us puttin' hands on him." He tugged her closer, let his arm wrap all the way around her waist and she relaxed into him almost immediatly.

"I'm sorry James." She finally, had the decency to look a little embarrassed.

"Don't apologize, I kinda liked it." Bucky threw her a wink and held her gaze a beat, "My little firecracker."

Lettie scoffed, purposfully ignoring the way he had used 'my'. She leaned back enough to pluck a Coke bottle from his grasp and take a sip. "I kinda liked it too." She mumbled against the mouth of the glass bottle.

"What's that?" Bucky leaned closer so he could hear.

She sighed deep and stood up a little to repeat herself in his ear, "I kinda liked how you… ya know…" Lettie trailed off not sure how to explain that she had found his quiet, confindent, control of the situation so attractive. The way he could have clearly swung on the troublemaker but instad chose to use his brain as well as his muscles.

He must've seen it in her eyes, or heaven forbid read her mind, because Bucky pulled back with a shit eating grin, "Oh really?" He licked his lips and gave her a nearly inappropriate look, "I'm glad." He all but whispered against her temple and followed it by a careful press of his lips. When he pulled back she was grinning too and they left it at that.

~~~

For awhile the four of them had sat at the little corner table and chatted. Bucky had kicked Steve out of his chair, forcing him to go and sit beside Isa so Lettie could sit next to him. Soon he had his arm draped over the back of Letties chair and was smiling contently as the girls chatted across the table.

After awhile Bucky had all but bullied his pal into taking the pretty French girl out for a spin on the dancefloor. Lettie had giggled beside him as Isaline had nearly drug Steve along behind her. Together they sat there, watching from the sidelines as their friends danced, or tried to.

"Gosh is that how clumsy I looked?" Lettie laughed hiding it behind her hand.

'Not a chance," Bucky ducked his head to meet her gaze, "You looked like a dream doll."

She turned that pretty pink color and couldn't hold his eye. Bucky chuckled, "How come you can be so gorgeous, so quick, square up with a guy twice your size without thinkin' twice," He paused and reached a careful hand out to tip her face back to his, "And still get so flustered when I say somethin' nice?"

Lettie bit her lip and shook her head a little, eyes dropping closed for a moment when he stroked her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "I don't know."

All he could do was smile. When he caught sight of the others coming back he gave her a soft smile and a wink.

~~~

The four of them had split up at the station, Bucky once again nearly forcing Steve to walk Isa home, giving Bucky and Lettie the chance to walk home together. Alone.

She had ahold of his elbow again, only this time she had both arms wrapped around his and they laughed and teased eachother as they walked. At the front steps to her builing Lettie's heart dropped slightly and she took a fortifying breath. She turned to face Bucky and asked outright, "You're leaving soon aren't you?"

Though it might have caught him off guard he didn't show it. He only took her hand in his and nodded, "My company ships out Friday."

Lettie nodded, looked intently at his hand that engulfed hers, warm, rough to the touch but gentle. She put on a smile, forced but not insincere, "I had a really great time tonight Bucky."

That brough his smile back as well. He picked her hand up to his lips and kissed the top of her thumb, "So did I."

SHe studied him intently, eyes searching for some answer he was more than willing to let her find. He stood there patiently, with his easy grin firmly in place while he waited, hand still holding hers.

"Even though I kinda tried to start a fight?" She chuckled sheepishly.

HIs grin doubled, "Oh especially since you tried to start a fight."

She swatted at his chest and he took it in stride, even tugged her back to him after.

"So you'd consider, maybe, taking me out again?" Lettie was fighting back nerves that evaporated when she saw the way his face cracked into a wide, honest smile.

"Sweeheart, you have no idea how much I'd like that." He took that as a sign that he could get away with wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her against him. "Can I come fetcch you tomorrow? We can get a bite to eat, just you and me this time?"

Lettie was beaming when she nodded, "Sounds perfect."

The way she was looking up at him, matched with the way she had all but melted into him, gave him hope but she was a handful and he was a gentleman. So, he asked, "Lettie," he tipped her chin up with his knuckle and looked her in the eye, "Can I kiss you goodnight?"

"Yes please."

Bucky had to remind himself to keep it short and sweet. The way all the air left her in a rush as he pressed his lips to hers drew him in. He'd meant it to be a quick little peck, empitome of a gentleman, but then her hands had reached for either side of his jaw and he couldn't hold back the happy hum in the back of his throat. He swiped his lips over hers again and spread a hand wide over her back to press her even closer to him.

When he finally forced himself to pull away he saw her eyes still closed and her lips still parted and couldn't help himself. "Look at you." He murmered to her, catching the way her eyes fluttered open only for her to moan and let them fall closed once more as he allowed himself one final kiss. Electricity trilling down his spine as she captured his bottom lip between hers as they pulled away the second time.

Lettie was trying to catch her breath and her eyes were wide and lit from within.

"See you tomorrow beautiful." Bucky tipped her face gently so he could press a kiss to the corner of her eye, not trusting himself to kiss her properly again.

WIth a happy hum she let her hands slide over his shoulders and down to squeeze his biceps as she smiled up at him sweetly. "Can't wait."

Bucky held the door to her building open for her and returned her silly little wave as she scampered up the stairs. He stood there unitil he heard her door upstairs open and close. "Neither can I." He whispered to himself, with the shake of his head, as he let the door swing closerd behind him.

~~~

"You're too good for the likes of him Lettie, you mark my words."

"Sal!" Bucky scoffed, "C'mon, you've known me my whole life"

"Exactly!" The old man pointed at him accusingly as he set another bottle of Coke down.

Bucky shook his head, offended, "Don't do me dirty like that Sal, c'mon." The man behind the counter laughed loudly as he walked away, sharing a conspiritorial wink with Lettie.

Still shaking his head Bucky shifted to face her on his stool, "You might have everyone fooled, but I know better."

Lettie scoffed, "Oh, you know better? Do you? A few dates and you've got me all figured out, is that it?" She propped her elbow besdie her plate and arched her brow, waiting.

"Workin' on it." Bucky grinned, reached down to grab the leg of her stool and drag her closer. It made her giggle and he loved it, "You're no angel darlin' but you are definitly too good for me."

That surprised her and she grinned even wider, licking her lips she spoke softly, "Well then aren't you lucky?"

"Very lucky." Bucky leaned in to kiss her cheek.

"You knock that off Barnes! People eat here."

Lettie snorted out a laugh, as Bucky jokingly growled, "Sal, you're killin' me here." He caught the way Lettie was looking at him out the corner of her eye, "Don't you enourage him doll." She snorted out an even less lady like laugh and went back to her food. "You're both killin' me."

Bucky snuck a hand out to tickle her ribs earning him a squeal of laughter and a hard swat to his forearm. "Behave yourself." She scolded him, jabbing a finger in his direction.

Bucky surrendered, hands in the air and everything. "Okay, okay, best behavior." He tossed her a wink as he went back to his own plate. Both of them fighting back smiles, cheeks aching.

Sal walked back by after a minute and gave Bucky a hard look, "I take it back, this girl, I think she's good for you." He smacked Bucky hard, affectionantly but hard, on the shoulder and turned to move on down to another couple at the end of the counter.

Bucky caught Letties eye and kept his voice low, "Oh, she's very good for me."

Lettie flushed bright red and hid her face in her free hand, "You are the absolute worst." She hissed back at him.

He furrowed his brow, asbsentmindedly twirling his fork between his fingers, "Really? Pretty sure that's not what you ..."

"James Buchanan, I swear..." She left her threat to trail off in the static between them. Her face flushed and Bucky grinned like the cat that ate the canary.

"Okay, like I said, best behavior." He left it at that, only reaching for the hand she had been hiding behind and tugging it to him so he could press a kiss to her palm. Then with a happy, contented smile he remained on his best behavior through the rest of lunch.

When the two of them left, Bucky left a little bigger tip on the counter than he needed to and tucked Lettie into his side as they headed back out onto the street. Neither of them paying attention to the looks that trailed after them. The group of girls in a booth that looked longingly at the handsome young man and the open and obvious adoration for the girl that wasn't them. The older couple that shared a knowing, reminiscint smile, and Sal who shook his head with a chuckle as he cleared their plates away.

Out on the street Bucky and Lettie continued down the sidewalk, his arm over her shoulders and their fingers laced together.

"Buck?" "

Yeah doll."

"What happens while your gone?" She tried to keep her voice light.

Bucky swallowed thickly and did the same, "Told you, we're gonna go over there, kick HItlers ass, and be back in time for you..." He paused mid stride to spin her around and pull her back so they stood face to face, "To take me ice skating for Christmas."

Lettie rolled her eyes in that way she knew he liked. "For me to take you, huh?"

"Well, we already established I don't know how, so... yeah. You're gonna have to hold onto me all night." He fought back a grin as he walked into her, pushing her to step backwards, "I'm probably gonna make a fool out of myself, hanging on you the whole time." He made his point by wrapping his arms around her tightly, still keeping them walking down the street. Lettie trusting him completely as she continued stepping backwards.

"James, I'm serious." She looked up at him with bright but serious eyes. He returned her gaze and slowed them to a stop at a cross walk. His sharp blue eyes left hers to watch the traffic go by for a moment. "We talked about this Lettie." He looked back to her, kept her wrapped up tight. "

You hardly know me."

"Don't matter." His answer was so immediate and certain it took a little of the fight out of her. "You're my girl. We both know this ain't..." Bucky trailed off. For once he was the one at a loss for words, "Don't matter it's only been a week. It's never been like this for me before Lettie."

With a heavy sigh she wrapped her arms around his neck and relaxed into him. "Me either."

"So, you'll wait for me?" He gazed down at her lovingly, hopefully. His eyes nearly fluttering closed at the feel of her nails scratching through the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

"You know I will. " She smiled up at him just as in love, even if neither of them had said those words just yet. "As long as you promise to do your damndest to come home to me."

HIs smile turned into a smirk, "Such a mouth on you." He kissed her before she could say anything back, being so bold as to swipe his tongue into her mouth right there in the middle of the sidewalk. She nipped at his bottom lip as he pulled back and he let her draw him in for another slow kiss. "I promise Doll, I'm comin' home to you."

They stood that way for a moment longer, more unspoken promises being shared in the silence. Lettie was the one that broke them out of it, "You, better let me go, so I have time to go round up a friend for Steve and get ready."

"You look good in what you're wearin'." Bucky almost pouted, carefully bunching up the fabric of her skirt in one hand.

"Thank you, but" She swatted his hand away, "You promised to wear your uniform for me tonight, so I have to go get dolled up." She winked when she used a play on his favorite pet name for her, "So those other girls out there don't get the wrong idea."

"Don't see how they could when I can't keep my hands off you." Bucky offered smoothly as he dropped a short, teasing kiss to her lips. "But, you know I love it when you get all done up for me." His eyes were downright sinful when he looked her up and down and he smiled at the blush on her cheeks. "You sure you're okay meeting us there?"

"I'm sure." She patted him on the chest, took a moment to enjoy the feel of the hard earned muscle under his shirt and then dropped her hands when Bucky gave her a look. "Don't you..."

"Wasn't gonna say a word." He bit his bottom lip and looked her up and down. Unabashedly remembering how her hands had felt on his bare skin, the slight red marks she had left behind. Bucky slowly backed away before he got himself in anymore trouble.

"Hey Sarge!" Lettie called after him, teaasing him again, "Forgetting something?"

WIth a laugh and a shake of his head he joined her back on the corner of the sidewalk, and with a hand on each hip he pulled her into another kiss. "I'll see you tonight."

~~~

It was too bad Isaline hadn't been the girl for Steve, it turns out they were just two different types of shy. Isa was shy becuase she was new to the States and still didn't feel completely at home. Steve was shy because, well, he was Steve.

Lettie liked Steve the little she'd been around him. Bucky was right, he was a great guy, he just was a little unsure of himself. Lettie remembered the first little tiff she and Bucky had had, on their second date, when she had brought up what Isa had said about Steve. But Lettie had apologized for speaking harshly about his best friend and Bucky had apologized for raising his voice.

They had sat in a park down by the water and talked after that, Bucky filling her in on growing up with Steve and she understood better. Even became a little more invested in finding him a girl, vowing to take up the mission while Bucky was overseas along with most of the competition. Admittedly the date she'd found for him tonight wasn't the best match but she'd had short notice. Mae was smart as a whip and pretty, but a little on the stoic side. She had been excited though.

Of course that was after Lettie had told her that Bucky, her handsome Army beau had got them tickets to the Stark Expo and was going to bring a buddy along for her. Bucky had talked him up, sharing all the best things.

Mae had looked at her sideways when the boys arrived, "That's Buckys best friend?"

"Yeah." Lettie called them over and then turned back to Mae. "Don't be rude, he's the sweetest guy. You'll see."

"He could be sweet and look like yours. Is that too much to ask?"

Lettie rolled her eyes already feeling bad about the setup but excited for the expo and to spend the night with Bucky.

~~~

They had stayed out so late that Lettie was certain her folks would be upset, even if they liked Bucky which they did, it was well past the decent hour to bring a girl home. Who could blame them though? He was shipping out in the morning. This would be their last night together in God knew how long.

She swayed with the motion of Bucky bumping into her as they walked, "Where that pretty mind of yours wander off to?" He asked when she glanced up at him.

She gave him a soft, sadly tinged smile and apologized, "Sorry, was just thinkin'."

He didn't have to ask, he just held her tighter and dropped a kiss to the top of her head. "You got the pamphlet right, on how to get letters to me?"

Lettie nodded but didn't trust herself to speak. They were a few blocks from her house now and her throat got tighter with each step.

Bucky breathed deep and tried to lighten the mood, "Wish I could keep you out all night. Keep you all to myself 'till I have to leave. But, I think your folks like me and I don't wanna mess that up. Would throw a real wrench in my plans."

With a snort Lettie gazed up at him, "Your plans huh?"

"Mhmm."

When he left it at that she finally cracked a smile and a hint of a laugh, "Care to share those plans with me Barnes?"

WIth a wide smile Bucky pulled her to a stop around the block from her home. "Nothin' too crazy. Just go to war, come home, convince you to marry me, which admittedly may be difficult but I'm up to the challenge," He laughed at the eye roll that earned him and continued, "Get a good job, find us a place, figure out how many kids we're gonna have."

"So you do, just got it all planned out don't you?" Lettie shook her head.

He nodded once slowly, not saying anything else for a long while. Then he tugged her to him by the waist and kissed her, "How does that sound?" He whiispered against her lips.

Lettie wrapped her arms around his neck and allowed him to mold her body against his and squeeze her tight as they breathed the same air.

She thought of a lifetime of the laughing and smiling, the teasing and squabbling. Of his wandering hands and hugs that set the world right again. With heat rising up in her chest she thought of the one night they'd been able to steal together. The way they had laughed and fumbled and whispered together in the dark. How she had felt so adored and loved and at the same time so alive and indescent in the most amazing ways. She thought of the way he had looked at her, and she at him.

It wasn't that they were the only people in the world, far from it, but that they were only ones that either of them could imagine having for the rest of their lives.

With no sense of how long she'd been thinking she hugged him tighter and whispered into the side of his neck, "It sounds amazing."

His arms held her tighter, closer, if that were even possible, and then her feet were off the ground and the world was spinning. When Bucky sat her feet back on solid ground she was laughing and he was giving her that obnoxiously charming, easy grin she had fallen for so quickly.

Bucky brought his hands up to cradle her face as he kissed her again. More so this time, "I wish I could take you home with me tonight." He barely pulled back from her to say the words and then he was devouring her lips again. "One more time before I go." He wouldn't give her enough time to respond between kisses so she just hummed, moaned more like, happily into his mouth and carded her fingers through the hair at the back of his head.

A shiver rolled through her at the thought of another stolen night spent thouroughly exhausted and wrapped up in his arms. The promise of a future where he wouldn't have to sneak her home after. Where they could stay that way, wake up wrapped in eachother.

Eventually Lettie moaned again, nipped at his lip to get him to give her a chance to breath, and they were both giggling as they pulled apart. Bucky licked his lips like he was savoring the taste of something sweet and it made her heart flutter.

All of the sudden she couldn't keep her hands still. They slid from his neck to frame his jaw and then down to his firm chest and even lower over his torso. The memory of watching the muscles there ripple, flex and contract above her brought heat to her cheeks.

"You're thinkin' too much again doll." He was teasing her now, as he took her hands in his and started them walking back down the sidewalk before they got themselves in trouble.

"You mean it right?" She blurted out as he tucked her back into his side and turned the corner towards her building.

"Every word." He kissed the top of her head again, hugging her to him the whole rest of the block. In front of her building he smiled at her, "Want me to walk you up?" He didn't want to leave her yet.

Lettie took the first step and then turned towards him again, they were eye to eye like this, and shook her head. "It'll be quietter if I go up alone." She draped her arms over his shoulders and closed her eyes, smiling serenely as his hands moved to her waist.

They stroked up and down a few times before he wrapped his arms around her completely. He was going to ask for one more kiss but she beat him to it. One of her hands reached up to tip his cap off his head and the other combed through his jet black, slicked back hair underneath.

His eyes closed with the gentle touch and he smiled when she pressed her lips to his. This kiss was softer, sweeter, a proper good bye, as they held eachother in the dark on their Brooklyn street. When his eyes opened and saw her there, green eyes glassy and lips swollen he hadn't hesitated, "I love you so much." He lifted his own hand to tuck a strand of hair back and swipe away a tear from the corner of her eye, "I promise you doll, I'll do everything in my power to come home to you."

"I love you too, God, so much it scares me." She sobbed out a little laugh and leaned into his hand. "And you better keep that promise."

Bucky laughed too, a lump in his throat and fighting back uncharacteristic tears of his own. "You better get upstairs." He kissed her again, quick and light. Trying to ease the heaviness of the mood.

"Good night Bucky." She tilted her head to kiss him, one more time, and then set his cap back on his head. Crooked, the way he liked it. Then she backed away.

"Sweet dreams doll." He held her hand in his until it had slipped away and he watched her turn at the door and smile back at him.

She waved, that same silly, flirtacious wave, she'd given him every night for the past week and then blew him a kiss. How could he not laugh, shake his head at her and return the wave. He even blew her a kiss of his own, laughing at himself but loving the way she beamed back at him. Then the door swung closed behind her and Bucky was alone in the darkness. With a sad smile he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to walk across to his own building. He knew he wouldn't sleep tonight.

~~~

Lettie could barely sleep either. She had woke early, her eyes jumping to the clock. In less than an hour Bucky would be reporting to muster at the ship yards, and by lunch he would be on his way to England. Then on his way to war.

Not knowing what possessed her she bolted out of bed and threw a robe over her nightdress. When she had dashed down the hallway she had nearly bowled over her father who stood in the kitchen. The collision slowed her down enough to apologize and clear her thoughts for a moment.

"What are you doing darling?" Her father questioned her, concern etched in his face, "Are you alright?"

She didn't know how to explain. She needed to see Bucky, one more time, if she hurried….

"I'm fine Papa." She blurted as the hurried to the door and nearly ripped it open. When she dashed out of the apartment she collided with a solid form for the second time that early morning.

This time however the man she had collided with cursed slightly under his breath and caught her in his arms, "Easy doll, where you runnin' off to?"

She was speechless when she came to her senses and saw Bucky standing before her. Crisp and clean shaven, uniform pristine and that crooked smile on his face. All she could do was wrap her arms around him and hug him to her. "I wanted to see you, one more time before you left."

Strong arms wrapped her up tight as he chuckled into her messy, morning hair. "Guess that makes two of us."

Lettie didn't see her father poke his head out of their apartment door, nor did she see the look the two men exchanged. Bucky appropriatly sheepish at the current postition in which he was entangled with the other mans daughter, but his hold on her never weakened.

To both of their surprise her father coughed, breaking them apart, and gestured them back inside the apartment. Bucky hadn't planned on sitting at the kitchen table with Lettie and her parents that morning, but it did his heart good. Her father had poured him a cup of coffee and shook his hand. Her mother had kissed him on the cheek. Lettie had sat beside him in her robe and disheveled hair and that was exactly how he wanted to remember her.

Like this he could picture her in their own home, walking into the ktichen in her robe, hair a mess from the night before to kiss him goodbye on his way to work.

After Lettie had walked him down to the front door, he hadn't let her come outisde with him. She shook her head, laughing at him when he said it was one thing for him to see his girl in a robe, but no way the whole neighborhood was getting a peak. They had kissed goodbye again and again and again until he absolutely had to leave.

Then Lettie walked back up to the apartment sat down at the kitchen table with her parents, and cried.

~~~

War was hell.

Even in Brooklyn, war was hell.

Lettie had held her breath between each letter. Each of them a heaving gasp of fresh air as she opened them and read Buckys words.

She focused on her work, she'd got a job at one of the factories like so many of the other girls. She spent all day punching rivets into fuselages and often caught herself wondering what she would do with herself when the boys came back.

Lettie liked the girls she worked with, they had all become good friends. Some of them were married, a few of them had kids, a couple were single but most of her new friends had a man they loved fighting overseas. Those had been the friends she'd confided in when Bucky's letters had stopped.

War was hell.

She knew that.

He wasn't allowed to tell her much about it, but she knew that of course there would be long gaps in communication. There had never been one that had gone on so long before though and fear had settled in her stomach like a lead weight.

Isaline, who worked with her, did her best to keep her friends spirts up. Told her that her boyfriend was just busy fighting Germans, and as soon as he was able he would write her another of his lovesick letters. Telling her stories of the men in his platoon and their rowdy shenanigans.

Just when Lettie had nearly given up hope, had settled into the bleak depression of not knowing, a runner had came to her station on the line with a telegram. Her heart had stopped and her rivet gun had dropped to the ground with a clatter as she stumbled.

No.... No, no, no....

One of the married women had caught her and steadied her, shushing her in her thick Brooklyn accent.

Isa had plucked the telegram from her fingers and opened it with a pale, sickly expression on her face. An expression that had disappeared instantly, replaced with elation, in French she exclaimed, "Listen, Lettie listen. for the love of God, girl listen!"

Lettie's world stopped spinning and her eyes settled on Isa as she read the telegram, beaming.

"Doll, I'm safe, I'll write soon. Love Buck"

After that the letters started up again, this time with even more fantastical shenanigans which included Steve now which he promised to explain later, and even more promises. He loved her, he was safe, he was coming home to her as soon as this was all over.

Then one of her friends from the factory had drug them to the cinema, demanding they get dolled up and go out, boys or no boys. Which is where she saw Bucky for the first time in over a year.

There on the screen, his face scowling in concentration across from none other than Captain America, Steve Rogers. She had recognized a few others in the reels from Buckys letters, men from his platoon and the girls had giggled together as Lettie retold the stories she'd heard. Once she got home that night she had written him and informed him he very much had a lot of explaining to do.

She never got a response to that last letter.

War was hell.

Again, she found herself repeating old mantras, the weight settled back in her stomach.

This time however, it was not a telegram that knocked the wind out of her. It was Sargent James "Bucky" Barnes, leaning casually against the front of her building in the warm afternoon sun, smoking a cigarette and wating for her.

~~~

She awoke with a start, heart racing for some unknown reason. Until a warm, heavy hand settled on her waist, "Sorry doll." His voice was hushed and hoarse in the silence.

Lettie rolled over and saw, once her eyes had adjusted, Bucky lying wide awake beside her, one arm propped behind his head and his chest rising and falling faster than normal. She slid over to him and tucked herself into the space he made for her against his side. "Nightmare?" She whispered softly as she pressed a kiss to a scar on his chest, one of the thick, ugly ones, and then rested her head there.

"Mhmm." Was his only response, aside from sinking back down into the matress and pulling the covers up over them.

"Want to tell me?" She asked against his chest.

She felt and heard him swallow thickly and then his arm around her tightened. "Not this one sweeheart." He murmered into the hair at the crown of her head and then dropped a kiss there. "Just tell me I'm home."

Lettie smiled and shifted so that she could look him in the eye, take his face in her hand and kiss him. "You're home." Kiss, "You're home, in bed, with me." Another longer kiss and then she carded her fingers through his sleep mussed hair. "RIght where you belong."

Bucky hummed appreciatively, wrapped his arms tighter around her and pulled her impossibly closer. HIs body had changed, he had grown into a man over there. His chest filled out, his arms and torso no longer lean but bulky. His back was solid muscle as were his legs. He had changed too. Not for the worse, just changed. Darkness chased him, and so many others, but he was sill her Bucky.

A fact made evident when his lips carressed her throat and he murmured, "Y'know, I'm pretty sure you promised, once upon a time, to play with my hair and talk dirty to me in French if I took you out two more times."

Lettie breathed out a laugh, "Oh really? That just don't sound like me at all." She teased even as she stroked through his hair again. A nip to her collarbone brought out a giggle. "Can't believe you remember that."

Bucky hummed again and rolled up onto his side. shifting her onto her back and gazing down at her. "Lettie, I tried not to think about home too much,noene of us did, after awhile it hurt too damn much." He reached a hand up to trace her cheekbone. "But, that week with you, God there were times I played it like a movie over and over again in my mind."

The way he looked at her gave her butterfilies, just like he had back then. Lettie smiled up at him and wrapped her arms around his neck, to bring him closer.

He dropped a sleepy, short kiss to her lips and then added, "And I distanctly remember you promising to do exactly that."

Lettie laughed and pushed him off of her. "You wouldn't know what I was sayin' anyway." She pointed out as she moved back into his side and laid her head on his chest.

"You could read me a diner menu doll, and I'd be just fine." He chuckled at himself and tugged her closer, already feeling the weight of the nightmare fading. They were quiet for a long time, Bucky distracted by the warmth of her slight breath over his bare chest and the feel of her twisting the gold band on his finger over and over. He smiled, content and let his eyes fell closed as he focused on the comforting repetetive motion of his wife toying with his wedding band as she drifted back to sleep.

After awhile his eyes grew heavy and the motion of Lettie's fingers slowed. As if with her last bit of energy before sleep reclaimed her she whispered to him in the darkness, her French slow and whispy as she faded, "You're home, my love, home with me. Where you belong."

Bucky breathed deep and released it in one long exhale, all the negativity of the nightmares gone with it, and then laced his fingers throught hers. "I'm home." He followed her in sleep with his hand holding hers and a soft, content smile on his face.

~~~

[wattskerrylou]

Click here to read Tomorrow by Scarlett21122

This isn't my story. It's just been uploaded by a good friend who has helped me and many others promote their fanfiction, and has offered so many writers unwavering support. I would be so grateful if others could show her story the love it deserves. You don't have to be a fanfiction reader to enjoy it. It is a magnificently well written and incredibly researched WWII story that will tear you apart with heartbreak and put you back together again.

[lotus-pear]

HI UHM HELLO… [taps mic] is this thing on….?? ………ok! [leans in] writer mutuals! i’m in dire need of assistance rn. how do you write a story. i have to write a plot for english and it’s due next thursday and i’m not sure where to start. are there any rules i should be following. plot points that are crucial outside of the basic exposition/rising action/climax/falling action/resolution??? how to format your individual chapters?? how to develop the story and where to get inspo??? how do some of you get inspo??? PLS HELP ME

[wrishwrosh]

posting this excerpt separate from my “sheer misery” thread bc of the Implications that specifically shaving has for that one scene of dick winters in bastogne. elsewhere in the chapter roberts suggests that explicit efforts towards cleanliness generally and shaving specifically became associated with cowardice, ineffectiveness, and effeminacy. so then like WHAT is the purpose of that scene of dick shaving and WHO suggested it. bc i guess it is intended to read to modern audiences as stiff upper lip maintenance of normalcy (noble) and cleanliness (next to godliness). but the actual action of shaving on the front in the ardennes would to men actually there have suggested effeminate delusion?? much to consider!!