#major winters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sergeant-spoons · 2 years

Note

From that Strangers to lover imagine of Chuck, I got inspired to ask too🥰🥰 how about Dick Winters and the singing girl at the bar? Like she got the voice of an angel, kinda an angel herself too and Dick just got hypnotised 😍

Hey, Little Songbird

Hello dear Anon! I’m so sorry this took me so long to write, my life is pretty hectic right now and I wanted to make sure I wrote this right. I hope you like it!

Pairing: Dick Winters x Female OC

Word count: 4693

Tone: Strangers to lovers, love at first sight, chance meetings, awkward flirting, fast burn

Summary: She sings like an angel, and the more he gets to know her, the more he feels she’s heaven-sent for a thousand more reasons.

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world @thoughpoppiesblow @victoryrollsandredlips @now-im-a-belieber @50svibes @mgdln97 @tina1938 @drinkwhiskeyandsmile @ask-you-what-sir @indecisiveimpatience @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert @holdingforgeneralhugs @onlyyouexisthere

When Erica Edwards enlisted with the USO, she believed she'd have the chance to travel like never before. She thought she'd finally be able to leave her small hometown in Kentucky and see New York City, the Midwest, maybe even the Pacific Ocean. If she was lucky (perhaps a naive thought), they'd send her overseas. And so she waited, singing herself silly around the house as she waited with breathless desire for the chance to finally go somewhere, do something, live a life worth living. The telegram came in mid-January of '44, ripe with disfavored news. She tried to make light of the disappointment, but it was hard to be happy she would not be going overseas. She wouldn't even be leaving the south. They meant to ship her out approximately 381 miles, which sounded like a great deal of distance until she looked at the map on her father's study wall and realized she was hardly moving two states over.

Her supervisor wanted to send her southeast, to a small town ever so similar to the one she'd known all her life, to perform in the local bars for the soldiers. The only difference from home would be the army base and the uniformity of the audience all garbed in the same shade of drab olive. No matter, she'd go. At least she'd be leaving home. Her parents weren't thrilled, but when had they supported her dreams and aspirations? Someday she'd settle down just like they wanted, raise a family, and keep a cozy home. That was something she wished for, too- just not right now. Right now, she wanted to be young and talented and, for the first time in her life, self-sufficient.

The town nearest to the army base was Spring Lake, which, oddly enough, was nowhere near a lake, nor a spring. The town was named after a small body of water called Spring Lake Pond, which would have been amusing enough had the pond not disappeared entirely, too. The woman who ran the boarding house Erica was staying at, a very chatty and sweet widow, told her where the pond had once been the night of her arrival over a late supper. She took a walk there two days later, following the railroad tracks to the foretold spot. Not even a ditch in the earth remained, no divet or shallow pit. The ground had been filled in to make room for another train platform, halfway built by the time of her coming. She watched the construction crew for a short time until one started whistling at her and she, disgruntled, went home to do the morning paper's crossword.

Her routine over the next few weeks became as follows. Read the morning paper and do her crosswords until the rest of the girls came down the stairs, chattering for their breakfast. Darn, dust, and fold laundry for the missus until eleven a.m. Spend the day from eleven to three in the afternoon doing as she pleased, which was most often visiting the local library, walking through the park, or tending to the kitten she'd found hiding in her bedroom that first night. Three to four, prepare for the evening. Four-thirty, set out for the pub and arrive at quarter-to-five as the first of the dinner and evening crowd began to walk in. Five-thirty to twelve, one, even two a.m., perform for and socialize with the patrons, most especially the enlisted men. Head home, fall asleep, rinse and repeat.

Erica's kitten brought her the most joy that first week as she struggled to find a sense of herself in this unfamiliar place. She named him Claudius for the great Roman philosopher. Her roommate suggested she spell the name as 'Clawdius', and though Erica declared it a swell idea, she privately believed her sweet gentleman did not deserve the caricature of a name. Speaking of, her roommate was quite the talkative woman, the daughter of the missus, and spent most of her time attending social functions and turning the dance hall uptown upside-down. She convinced Erica to come along sometimes, though only to the daytime events. Though she maintained a veneer of calm delight, Erica was often dreadfully bored and lonely at those events. She knew no one save for her roommate, and the few men who looked her way were quickly dissuaded from trying to catch her attention by how she was nose-deep in a novel she'd snuck in her purse.

The first four or five weeks after that first uncomfortable stretch were actually quite exciting and, from a career standpoint, successful. She sang in the pub almost every night except for Mondays and Tuesdays since the establishment was closed on those evenings. She'd begun to make a name for herself among the locals. Soldiers asked her to kiss their cheeks for good luck before shipping to the coast for their overseas departures. Folks recognized her walking through the park and she started to make friends. By the end of June, her supervisor was so pleased that he was considering sending her north if reports kept coming back positive. North meant Boston or New York City, and now, wouldn't that be something?

This Friday evening would be the same as most any night. A new wave of soldiers had arrived just last week. It was always a test to see if the newcomers would behave better, worse, or about the same as the last batch. So far, they'd been the best-behaved of the lot, and Erica was looking forward to her performance tonight. She had two new songs to debut, one from Oklahoma! and another by Henry James and Helen Forrest. It was a Saturday night, so the pub was bound to be packed. She enjoyed it like that, with all the lights turned pinker by all the body heat in the room, the bar stools never unoccupied, the darts game in the back of the room spotting her songs with exclamations of triumph or groans of slim defeat. More people meant more exposure, too, and for a young star-on-the-rise, exposure was a grand old friend.

What Erica did not know was that a certain lieutenant had been coerced out to the pub that night by a friend of his, a lieutenant who had heard of the nightingale of Spring Lake and was interested enough in a night of music to join the enlisted men for beers and song. The bar was hot, though the mid-July sun was halfway done setting, and several patrons had opened the windows, letting in a cool breeze that the quieter folk collected around. Dick Winters was one of such people, and Harry Welsh, though he was more the socialite, deigned to join his friend once he'd fetched them each a beer from the busy bar.

"Phew!" Harry exclaimed, passing Dick the glass with the lesser froth of the two. "Didn't think I'd make it back without somebody hip-checking me and spilling one o' these. This place is packed."

"It is," Dick agreed and held the beer politely in front of him.

Harry, who had forgotten his friend did not drink, downed half his glass in the next few minutes, chatting about this and that to do with the enlisted men, the pub, the night, North Carolina, and anything else that crossed his mind.

"Oh, here she comes!" he exclaimed, cutting himself off mid-story about his uncle's incident with a raccoon on the roof. "The brightest star of the night—more radiant than the North Star."

Dick chuckled, turning the beer in his hands so his fingers smudged new prints in the fading frost.

"What?" Harry nodded at the stage. "They call her the nightingale for a reason, Dick."

"Oh, I believe you-" He passed his beer onto Lewis Nixon half an instant after his friend broke through the crowd to join them. "-I've just never heard you talk that way about anyone other than Kitty."

Harry huffed cheerily. "Well, this is different! Everybody loves her."

"Is that so?"

Dick turned to Nix for affirmation, and Nix glanced between him and Harry.

"Are we talking about Miss Edwards?"

They nodded, and Nix flashed a lopsided smile.

"Then yes, everybody does love her. Funny enough, she's not even a local."

"She's not?" Harry turned his ear toward his right shoulder. "I always thought she was."

"No, she's from further west—Tennessee, I think. Maybe Kentucky. USO sent her out here for us strapping boys in the Airborne."

"No kidding?"

"No kidding. The 506th isn't the first to come through here."

Dick's friends turned to him as if remembering he was part of their conversation. He didn't mind listening, and their return to him was a thoughtful thing, in his eyes.

"How about you, Dick? What do you think of this southern belle?"

"I've never met her," he conceded after a second or two of thought, "but I'm sure she's pleasant enough."

"Pleasant," Harry chuckled into the bottom of his beer glass as if Dick had just made a clever joke.

"She's more than pleasant, Dick." Nix tipped his glass towards the stage. "You'll know it as soon as you see her."

They didn't have to wait long. The lights above the small soapbox stage flickered on and off, the doing of an unseen hand. The crowd hushed in a gradient, those closest to the stage going quieter than those at the dartboard in the far corner. Harry went back to the bar to get another beer, and Nix leaned around Dick to speak to another fellow officer, and just as he was left to his own thoughts, the most exquisite woman he'd ever had the fortune to lay eyes upon emerged from the door to the immediate left of the stage. The clapping and cheers of the audience dimmed in Dick's ears; he could not even hear Nix's words, though his friend was hardly a foot away from him. His ears rushed like the ocean waves swelling upon a beach, only ebbing when she took the microphone and laughed a humble laugh, beaming out at her admirers (of whom Dick already counted himself a member).

She did not speak but began to sway, listening to the band behind her, packed into the small space between her and the back wall. They had no soapbox stage but were just as present as their vocalist, who shot them smiles over both her shoulders as they struck up the first tune. Dick liked this nightingale very much already, and then she opened her mouth to sing and he was smitten. By the end of the first verse, he was breathless; by the end of the song, he was in love. The applause cut through the hypnosis and Dick realized as he began to clap along, slowly at first and then quicker, that he was being a fool. Admiration of a person should not derive from immediate physical attributes. Even the loveliest of singing could not reasonably enchant a heart, though this woman's crooning was beyond lovely. "I've Heard That Song Before" had never been sung so sweet, not even by Helen Forrest herself. As the applause soared, the enchantress of the melody dipped her head with a shy sort of pride that made Dick's heart neglect to beat.

"Thank you," she said, squeezing the microphone like the hand of a friend. "Thank you, darlings."

The applause quieted and the woman introduced herself as Erica Edwards to sporadic shouts. She laughed that sweet laugh that first entranced Dick's ears, seeming to recognize a regular supporter, and proceeded to thank the crowd for making it out tonight. They cheered, and Dick was just as surprised as Harry and Nix to find his own voice within the mix. Miss Edward's eye danced across the room, and just as Dick had convinced himself he ought to stop staring at her, she met his gaze.

"Ain't it lovely to see some new faces in the crowd tonight?" she said, her voice low and smooth like syrup, similar and yet altogether different from her singing voice. Crooning that Henry James tune, she'd sounded like sweet hot honey poured over a moist pound cake, the kind of treat you would call breakfast if you felt like toeing the line just a little on that particular day.

What an angel.

She sang again, a song from that new musical George Luz was already stuck on, and Dick couldn't look away, becoming more and more enthralled with every new melody. Soldiers and locals began to make room for a dance floor, moving tables and chairs, and the singer, taking a cue from the crowd, struck up a slow song. Although Dick wasn't much of a dancer, his only wish was that she could keep singing like that in his arms, dancing with him into Eden. She wrapped up the set two hours after she'd begun and Dick only realized it from a glance at his watch. He hadn't meant to stay out so late. Harry reappeared from the crowd, where he'd been dancing with a family friend of his, come south for the summer. He bumped Dick's arm, and by the time Dick looked back up, the nightingale was gone from her nest.

"She's really something, huh?"

Dick blinked.

I shouldn't be falling for a stranger. I should not. Be falling. For a stranger.

"She is."

Goddamnit, Dick, pull yourself together.

"Well!" Harry swigged the last of his third (or was it fourth?) beer and set the glass definitively on the bar. "I'm ready to retire for the night. You?"

"Yeah." Dick smoothed down his shirt, shooting one last glance at the empty stage. "Let's go."

Four days later, Dick had almost managed to brush the nightingale of Spring Lake beyond his memory. Almost. He wrote a letter home and did not mention any angel of the barroom, no matter how much his pen moved to betray his resolve. Most of his duties relieved him from free thought, but the hours running and marching with the men in strict silence gave him little choice in the matter of introspection. Tuesday morning, he woke with the music of a stranger's love drifting about his brain. To chase it away, he took his letter to the post office on the other side of town. His walk had the opposite of its intended effect. Without talkative company to occupy his ears, his mind wandered and he caught himself humming a tune he hadn't known until last Friday. He set his jaw as he started up the steps, looking to his boots in a last attempt to set his thoughts in a direction other than that beautiful, breathtaking, blazing bright-

"Oh!"

Dick stepped back all the way down the stairs. Here she was, the ghost of his thoughts, blinking into the sunshine. He was already staring at her. She patted down her skirt. Dick felt a lump swell in his throat. He took off his cap and held it against his chest.

"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean- bump into you there- sorry."

She looked pleasantly surprised. "That's alright," she said. "I'm awful sorry for getting in your way, Lieutenant."

He shook his head. He'd been in her way, surely. The right of way should always be deferred to her, in Dick's opinion. He swallowed, and she smiled, and the lump in his throat eased.

"Not at all," he replied, relieved when she didn't seem to mind his hesitation. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes." She tipped her head, her lovely curls dancing over her shoulders. "Well, um..."

"Dick Winters," he said, extending his hand before he could stop himself.

Her smile grew and she passed her pocketbook to her other hand.

"Erica Edwards," she said, and even her name had a beautiful cadence to it, like her voice, and her singing, and her face-

"Miss Edwards, would you be inclined to meet me for dinner sometime?"

Erica didn't mean to look so surprised as she did. She'd been asked out here and there by a trooper or two throughout her stay at MacKall, but never so suddenly and so... intriguingly. She had half a mind to think his sparkling gaze was for her and her alone. And the way he'd stumbled over his words to see her face—it was too sweet to deny.

"Yes," she said, coming down the stairs. "Yes, I would like that."

"Tomorrow night?" Dick asked before the astonishment could render him speechless. Now that she stood before him, he was ever the more taken with her. His cap, disheveled by his anxious grip, shifted against his chest, and he remembered to breathe.

"Yes," she agreed. "Tomorrow night."

"I'll pick you up at seven."

"Yes."

They fell silent. Dick was too enraptured by her face to think of saying goodbye. Erica's smile widened.

"Wouldn't you like to know where?"

"Oh- right. Yes, please."

She gave him the address of the boarding house she was staying at, and Dick nearly forgot it when she wished him a pleasant morning and touched his hand just lightly enough to conjure goosebumps to his skin. He returned to the base, dumb with delight, and hardly got a word in before Nix and Harry guessed the source of his happy befuddlement. They called him a tiger, a flirt, a champ, but all Dick felt like was lucky. Alas, that luck would not hold out past sundown. The next morning, during the 7:00 hour roll, Sobel figmented a number of violations by the soldiers of his company. The usual phrase "weekend passes are revoked—officers included" stung Dick's ears. He knew better than to give a physical reaction, but as soon as he was beyond Sobel's (and his men's) view, he let out a sharp sigh and gazed reproachfully at the heavens. Why could things not go his way just for once?

All the rest of the afternoon, Dick tried to send word to Miss Edwards that he would not be able to make it to their dinner date. His anxieties mounted all day until the evening commenced and he was able to sneak off the base for the first time. Nix covered for him, his eyes sparkling with pride at Dick endeavoring something so rash. Dick's heart thrummed heavy in his chest, loud in his ears, until he was well into town. The distance relieved him for a few steps and a few steps only. The sooner he grew to Miss Edwards' lodgings, however, the more out of step became his heartbeat, and he was no less in a tizzy when he started down the long path to the boarding house than he'd been when he stumbled into her yesterday. He held his cap in his hands and fiddled with the brim, forgetting how Sobel would scold if he saw it crimped tomorrow.

But lo! providence came again on his side. A gazebo bathed in the light of the crescent moon a ways off the road. When Dick squinted, he could spy a figure sitting there among the fireflies. She looked content, listening to the river run, watching the blinking bugs.

"Miss Edwards."

She turned about and found him approaching much quicker than he supposed was prudent, but still too slow for his aching heart. Her pretty mouth formed into an 'o'. Dick remembered how it was she sang last week and nearly swooned all over again.

"I'm so sorry," he said, "I owe you a great apology."

"For not showing up."

She looked fairly unimpressed until he went on, explaining about this morning and the roll and his CO. As soon as she heard that last bit, her expression darkened. Dick trailed off, afraid he was in worse trouble now that he'd tried explaining.

"Sobel?"

"Yes," he affirmed and was surprised even further when she relaxed, offering a wry laugh.

"That man is a piece of work."

Before Dick could process her forgiveness, she tucked her arm around his and looked all about the twinkling night.

"Do you see the lightning bugs?"

"Yes," he lied, staring at her and her alone, "they're nice."

"And me?" she asked, her gaze returning to his. "Am I nice?"

Dick could hardly catch his breath.

"More than nice," he said, "so much more."

From that night on, they visited each other often. Dick was utterly smitten with Erica, and she was only a few steps behind on the path to love. The more she saw him, the more she smiled, even when he was not around. She'd never thought she'd find someone this good, someone to bring out the best of her. With him, she was witty, thoughtful, and patient like she'd never been before. He came to see her at the bar every weekend and never left until the show was over, even as it got later and later and she kept on singing. He'd always ask for a dance, just one, and she'd giggle and tell him they needed music for dancing. He'd always smile, say maybe next time, and walk her home with a kiss on the cheek goodnight. Erica couldn't remember a time when she'd been so endlessly happy. It did not take her long to fall deeply in love. She felt like a girl, fawning over a boy, dizzy with the first draws of innocent love, but too, she felt like a woman, reaching for the man whose hand she wanted to hold for the rest of her life.

One sweltering evening at the tail end of spring, they went out for dinner and left town just after sunset. There was a faint uncertainty in the air, for Dick had recently learned his regiment would be relocating again soon. They had arrived at the base in February and it was now May—they had stayed almost too long already. To Erica, it didn't feel like long enough. She and Dick had only known each other for four months. She didn't want him to leave. She knew it would break her heart if he went and left her behind, as soldiers were wont to do. But not Dick, he wouldn't—right? Doing her best to ignore such insecurities as they came to her front stoop, Erica invited Dick in for iced tea. Her heart fluttered when he looked at her that way, his affection set aglow by the fading light. He looked incredibly regretful to decline. When she took his hand, brushing her thumb over his knuckles, he leaned toward her and she almost kissed him. Almost.

"You walked all this way," she said, "at least come in and cool down a bit."

All the other girls were still out for the night, dancing and drinking with their beaus. They were smart, to wait until the night cooled down the sun's blistering rays, even smarter to inadvertently leave Dick and Erica the place to themselves. The only one at home was the woman who ran the boarding house, and she was knitting out on the back porch. She would not come in until eleven at the earliest, and she'd already expressed her approval of Erica inviting 'that gentlemanly lieutenant of yours' to come in and sit for a time, so long as it was not past midnight. Sitting in the parlor, fanning her face with her grandmother's best fan, Erica sipped at the tea and eyed Dick over the rim of her glass. Not once did he look away from her. Music drifted in through the screen door, the radio of a passing car turned up loud, and Dick set down his drink.

"I love your singing," he said, and though Erica had for a moment hoped he might stop at 'you' and neglect any 'your', she still lit up at his praise.

"Thank you, darlin'," she said, positively glowing under his admiration, "I've spent a long time gettin' it right."

"Sing for me?"

"Now?"

He looked guilty, but then she stood and extended her hand. He rose and joined her, accepting her touch.

"I will," she agreed, "on one condition."

"Which is?"

"You dance with me while I sing."

Erica realized only when Dick swept her into his arms that this was the best condition she could have offered. His dream come true, though she didn't know it yet. She began to hum, something slow, and he began to turn them. His hand on her back felt like a pillar, keeping her steady; his other hand in hers was the touch of angels. She leaned into him, singing a bit softer but now adding the lyrics. She could see it now, she'd entranced him with the first note. As they drifted closer and closer, she wished he would just kiss her already. Dick looked at her lips and the last few words of the line fell off as Erica tried to prepare herself to little avail. His kiss was striking in every meaning of the word. Hard and direct and all too fast. It made her heart hammer and her lips burn, and she needed more at once. His shyness made her strong.

"Mmph-"

He made a soft sound as her lips collided with his, a note strangled by desire. She touched his chest with a lithe hand and he was no longer quite so shy. His hand on her back became two, and her arms appeared around his neck, keeping him near. He was polite, and it was nice at first, but then not enough, and it was not long before Erica could feel heat bubbling in her face and her neck and her chest. A part of her very much wanted to press Dick to the wall and kiss him long and slow, but she knew better than to test the endurance of a man already trembling at their current embrace. His breath shook against her lips and she giggled, breaking the kiss to bury her face in his neck. He held her there for a moment, steadying himself, as she listened to his wild heart.

"Marry me?"

Her head snapped up as quick as a leaf tossed by a pre-storm wind. She expected him to look embarrassed or apologetic, but all she could see in his eyes was love and frightened hope. She did not ask what he meant but took a minute to think. He was patient, holding her all the while. His hand played with the back of her blouse, nervous. She pecked his lips over and over until he began to smile, then gasped out her answer as her smoking surprise gave way to blazing delight:

"Yes."

"Yes?"

"Yes! Yes—on one condition."

"Anything," he swore, his voice low and faint as if he was trying to keep himself quiet, afraid speaking too loud would wake him from some perfect dream.

"We wait a bit for the wedding?" She smiled, just as shy as he'd been after he kissed her that first time. "I love you, and all, it's just... I'd like to keep up my singin' as long as I can."

He looked almost appalled at the notion. "Why would you ever stop?"

"Oh, Dick!" She beamed and threw her arms around his neck. "You are just an angel, you know that?"

"No," he breathed, "no, you're the angel. An angel who-" He lit up and embraced her. "An angel who's going to marry me!"

They spun around together, laughing in loving glee, until Dick nearly tripped over something and they stumbled to a stop. It was Claudius who'd interrupted, and Erica scooped him into her arms, never straying far from the loving touch of her newly intended.

"What do you think, Claudius? Am I the luckiest gal on the whole planet?"

She made Claudius nod up and down by bobbing him in her arms, and he meowed, stretching his paws curiously at Dick.

"I think that's a yes, through and through," she decided, and Dick stroked her pet's head as he leaned over the cat to kiss her.

"I think he's happy with your 'yes'."

"He should be..."

She kissed the top of Claudius' furry head and leaned into Dick's arms, content.

"It's the best decision I've ever made."

#request #dick winters #richard winters #band of brothers #one shot #band of brothers one shot #band of brothers fanfiction #hbo war show #hbo war show one shot #hbo war show fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction request #anon request #major winters

14 notes · View notes