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stillbandofbrothersthirsty · 3 years

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Rock Bottom

Joe Liebgott x OC

*Rated T for language and adult themes. (5,471 words)

“Have you guys seen that new girl?” Frank Perconte asked as he squeezed into a small seat along the dining table bench.

“What new girl?” Bill Guarnere asked through a bite of food.

“The new intelligence girl,” Frank said as means of explanation.

“She’s an intelligence officer?” Joe Liebgott asked.

“I heard she was with the OSS before this,” Pat Christensen added.

“I don’t think intelligence officer,” Frank pushed the food around on his plate, “but apparently she speaks like 20 languages.”

“No,” Joe said doubtfully, “no way, that’s so many.”

“Who knows? Once you know one language it’s easier to pick up others,” David Webster said.

Joe shot him an annoyed look.

“I think she’s from the Bronx too, Web.”

“Well hey, there ya go! There’s so many languages going around in the Bronx, she probably picked them up there. It’s so much easier to learn languages when you’re young ya-“

“Where’d you get all this info?” Bill cut David off.

“Luz.” Frank was barely intelligible with his mouth full.

“Hm,” Bill grunted. The information was likely true coming from George Luz, the kid had a way of finding things out.

Their formal introduction to the newest G-2 recruit occurred the next day prior to starting their classroom instruction. The men hadn’t expected the classroom time. They knew the forecast had predicted rain but they didn’t dare to hope Sobel would let them off just because of “a little water”. However, by eleven, the early morning drizzle had grown into a downpour that even Sobel didn’t want to be caught in. He relinquished his company to the instruction of basic compass and map reading.

“Gentleman,” Sobel addressed them dryly, his hands folded behind his back, “before we get started, I would like to introduce you to the newest member of the intelligence general staff.”

The men were gathered in a large tent propped up by recently constructed whitewood. Beside Sobel stood a woman dressed neatly in an army issued pencil skirt, jacket and tie.

“This is Valerie Marchetti, she will be working with the intelligence office as a linguist.”

“Told ya she knew like 20 languages,” Frank whispered to Joe.

“Italian!” Bill nudged Johnny Martin.

“Please make every effort to make her feel welcome,” Sobel finished unenthusiastically, “Alright, let's get started. Radio men, follow Ms. Marchetti.”

“Lucky!” Floyd Talbert clapped George on the shoulder as he stood up. George winked at him with a grin.

“So, what’s she like?” Floyd asked as they headed back to the barracks.

“Aw she’s an angel,” George enthused, “so sweet, and she knows her stuff too!”

“You’d think anyone that pretty was an angel, Luz,” Frank said.

“That,” George said, “is because angels are beautiful.”

But George wasn’t the only one over the moon to have a woman among them. All of the Toccoa men were eager for any chance to ogle Valerie. They were oversexed and grateful to have a beautiful woman in their midst, if only for the hope of earning a smile. Most of the men were limited in their interactions with her seeing as she was part of the intelligence general staff but somehow Bill really got to know her, and by extension, Johnny Martin did too. They became a trio on nights out. Bill jumping from group to group, socializing with all the men while the more mellow Johnny posted up at a table with Valerie.

“Does she actually know 20 languages?” Shifty asked Bill innocently.

“Nah, not actually twenty, but she knows quite a few. She’s damn smart!” Bill said taking a long drink of his beer.

“What languages does she know?” Joe asked.

“Italian, her pa’s Italian. Polish ‘cuz of her ma. Yiddish and I think her German’s okay too,” Bill listed.

Joe nodded thoughtfully, “not bad,” he admitted. “Not gonna be any use to us if we go to Japan though.”

Bill shrugged, “who knows where we’re goin’, they got her here for a reason.”

“Was she posted somewhere else before this?” Moe Alley asked.

“She was a code breaker! Can you believe that? So smart,” Bill shook his head in awe.

“Ya sound like you’re in love there, Bill,” Joe teased.

“God damn right, I love that girl. She’s great!”

Joe chuckled, she was a good looking dame that was for sure. Just his type: curvaceous, dark hair and warm eyes. He admired her just as much as every other guy in the bar. There were plenty of local women around, some of who Joe had gotten to know quite well, but there was something about that army pencil skirt that just did it for Joe.

“She gotta fella?” Joe heard himself asking.

“Why? You interested Joe?” Bill asked.

Joe shrugged, “just curious.”

Bill looked over his shoulder where Valerie sat smiling, her full lips painted a rich red. “I don’t think so, but I’ll tell ya what Joe, she’s not any ol’ dame. She’s a spicy one that’s for sure. She’ll tell you what’s what.”

Yeah, Joe found that out for himself the first time he experienced classroom instruction with Valerie Marchetti.

“Well, actually we’d actually refer to this group as the Allgemeine SS,” Valerie said.

“Deutsche Ausrüstungswerke is German Equipment factories so I don’t-“ Joe defended.

“Well yes, but it’s important to know that this is an armaments division under the SS, Allgemeine SS.”  “Are you sure? You said yourself you aren’t fluent in German, are you sure you’re translating-“

“Yes. I don’t speak fluent German but I know these terms and I know the organization of the SS. You would do well to listen to me, I know what I’m talking about.” Valerie snapped.

“Okay, calm down,” Joe threw his hands up.

Valerie sniffed at his gaslighting before spinning on her heel and walking away. After that it was game over, nothing about her was attractive to Joe any longer; not her silky, dark curls, not her full red lips, not the way the dark lines on her hose travelled seductively up her leg. He decided she was more trouble than she was worth.

A cheer rose up from the dart boards that Friday night where Bill, Johnny, and Bull were playing darts with Valerie. She was wearing trousers that night, which Joe found rather flattering. But he caught himself as his gaze travelled down from her waist, and quickly looked away.

“Okay, if I make this last one, drinks are on me.” Valerie bit her lip in concentration.

“Well now I kinda want you to win,” Bill said jovially.

“Ah!” The men around her cheered again as the dart hit another bullseye.

“Damn, how do you do it?” asked Don Malarkey in awe.

Valeria smiled coyly and shrugged. “Who needs a drink?” she asked to the men gathered.

“Nah, you can’t possibly cover all the drinks here,” Bill held up his hand in protest, a cigarette burning between his fingers.

“Don’t worry about it Bill, I pretty much owe everyone in here a drink anyways after the way they all tripped over themselves to buy me a drink when I first got here.”

The men sung her praises all the way up to the bar where Valerie instructed the tender to pour everyone in proximity a beer and to put it on her tab. She had come up right where Joe had been standing with Moe. Valerie glanced down at his nearly empty glass, “you need a beer Joe?” she asked.

“No thanks, still workin’ on this one.” Joe held up his glass.

“James?” Valerie asked Moe. He nodded appreciatively and accepted the drink even though his original glass held more than Joes.

“You sure Joe?” Valerie asked in a sing song voice. It grated on Joe’s nerves.

“I’m good, thank you though Valerie.” His dark eyes met hers. The piercing darkness of them sent a shiver down her spine and she abruptly looked away, blushing.

Joe was walking back from the latrine later that night when he heard some voices out in the dark, in the direction of HQ. The tone of the two male voices that carried on the air made Joe stand to alert. The speakers weren’t too loud, but there was a forcefulness to them. Then the voice of an agitated female broke through. A coldness rushed into Joe blood. He rushed towards the noise. He came upon two F company men who were walking on either side of Valerie. They were walking fast, the pace clearly set by Valerie who sped forward. The men kept in step with with her all while trying to box her in between their bodies.

“Hey!” Joe snapped, stopping them in their course, “what the hell is going on here?”

Joe looked at Valerie, a chilling look in her eyes: fear.

The men hardly seemed bothered by Joe’s presence. “We’re just making sure this young lady gets back to her quarters safely,” one said.

“Are you?” Joe asked, “do you even know her?”

“Sure we do,” the other said arrogantly, “mind your business pal.”

“Val, you know these guys?” Joe asked. Even with adrenaline coursing through his body he winced internally at his use of her nickname. He wasn’t familiar with her like that, why did he call her Val in that moment?

“Don’t worry about it Joe, I can take care of myself,” she said firmly, “I’m just right here,” she turned towards the main HQ building where she was posted up with the other few females. The men made to follow her into the darkness. Although it was only yards away, there were too many spots of darkness for Joe to feel comfortable letting those men follow her all the way up to her doorstep. Joe stepped in front of them, giving Valerie the time and space to disappear into the fold of the night.

“What’s your problem man?” one of the men snarled.

“It’s late, you’re just gonna have to accept you struck out tonight,” Joe sneered back.

The other man, who was significantly larger than Joe, took a menacing step forward. “She your girl or something?” he asked with narrow eyes.

“She’s no ones girl,” Joe said, and he turned away to head back to his barracks.

“Hey, you should’ve stayed out of it, guy.” Then Joe felt a hand on his collar spin him around before a fist made contact with his eye.

“Do you know what guys from F company?” Edward Tipper asked as he took in the blue and blackness that was beginning to come out around Joe’s eye socket.

Joe shrugged into his breakfast, “whatever, I’m not worried about it.”

“Those bastards,” Moe said, “we oughta give them what they deserve.”

“I said I’m not worried about it,” Joe said, “will you drop it?” His friends reluctantly sat back.

It was then Joe noticed Valerie standing a few feet away, a breakfast tray clutched in her hands. She was staring mournfully at the injuries he incurred. As soon as his eyes met hers she quickly walked to the table where Johnny sat, taking a place beside him and disappearing behind the figures of the Easy Company men she loved. Not Joe, he was not part of that group.

“Joe,” Valerie came up behind him as he was bussing his tray. He turned around to face her. Bags hung under her eyes but her signature red lipstick was applied flawlessly.

“Yeah?” he asked impassively.

“Um, I..” she hesitated, taking in his appearance. His jacket was unbuttoned, revealing his PT shirt. His dog tags hung heavy around his lean neck. His cheek bones were sharp, the top of the left one was split just slightly below where the blueness had spread to fill his entire eye socket. Valerie winced looking at him.

“I just want to say I appreciate you checking in on me last night,” Valerie began.

“Don’t mention,” Joe flicked his hand dismissively and began to walk away.

“But you didn’t need to, I feel bad, you’re eye, I would’ve been fine-“

Joe looked at her like she was crazy, “Valerie I saw how you looked last night, you knew it wasn’t goin’ in a good direction.”

“I was almost back to my quarters, I would’ve been fine,” she insisted.

Joe let out a sharp laugh, “why were you alone anyway? Walking in the dark?”

“It’s none of your business,” Valerie said.

“Wow, this is a hell of a thank you, Val,” Joe winced. Damn it, why did he keep using that nickname?

Valerie wrinkled her own nose in discomfort, “well thank you, but next time I got myself.”

“Valerie I wasn’t going to just leave you there!”  “You don’t need to worry about me! I can take care of myself,” she doubled down.

“God damn it, would you get over yourself?” Joe snapped. Valerie reeled back in momentary shock.

“Get over myself?”

“Those guys were trouble! We both know it!”

“Get over myself? What do you mean? You don’t trust me-“

“I don’t even know you, I would’ve done the same for any girl-“  “So because I’m a girl you don’t trust me to take care of myself?”

“It was two against one.”  “I’m a soldier same as you and you were prepared to take them on-“

“Don’t be ignorant, it’s diff-“

“Ignorant? Who’s calling who ignorant?”

“See, you just think you’re so much better than every-“

“I have to be better than everyone! I have to work twice as hard as everyone here!”

“In your cozy little intelligence office? Yeah, sure, try doing the stuff we have to do.”

“I have to train too! I’m strong!”  “But not strong enough to-“

“I am strong enough!”

“Look what those bastards did to me, you don’t think they would’ve done the same to you?”

“Well, maybe not, because like you said I’m just a girl.”

“Yeah well let me tell you that’s exactly why they could’ve done worse.”

“Do you just assume the worst of your compatriots?”  “Do you not? How dumb are you? I thought you were from the city!”  “You know what, just stay out of it next time Liebgott. I don’t want you getting injured on my behalf.” Valerie stormed away angrily.

“You’re welcome!”Joe shouted after her defiantly. “God damn it,” he cursed under his breath. He kicked a trash bin nearly kicking it over, “fuck this.”

Joe was still heated later that night when he finally retired to the barracks.

“Tough day, Joe?” Bull asked. A cigar hung from his mouth as he unlaced his boots.

“Little bit,” Joe eased down on his bed. His face throbbed where he had been hit. Bull looked up at him thoughtfully, “everything alright now?” he asked cryptically.

“All good, Bull,” Joe lay back on his cot exhaling.

“Not all good,” John Martin was suddenly standing over him, “you were fighting with Valerie?”

“Not really, it’s fine,” Joe draped an arm over his eyes, trying to block out the little light that filled their canvas living quarters.

“It better be, I heard you two shouting at each other earlier. What’d you do to deserve that?”

Joe sat up, “I didn’t do anything!”

John crossed his arms and eyed Joe suspiciously, “well, if she’s after you you probably deserve it.” He stalked off and Joe fell back onto his bed.

“She’s a tough one that Valerie,” Bull said.

“So I’ve heard,” Joe muttered.

“No shit from nobody,” Bull continued.

“You gotta point, Bull?” Joe snapped glaring at the guy in the bunk next to him.

Bull chewed on his cigar, carefully considering what he was going to say next, “it was good of you to look out for her. You did the right thing, Joe.”

Joe hadn’t expected that. He nodded at Bull then rolled over in his bunk. He didn’t know how much Bull knew, or what exactly he had heard through the grapevine, but Bull’s words meant more than he thought the would. Finally a little acknowledgment for preventing the crime he had seen coming. No matter how tough she was, there’s no stopping that when two men decide they’re going to do it.

Joe slid his arm under his pillow, trying to get comfortable. That’s when his hand grazed something hard and rectangular. From underneath his pillow he pulled out a chocolate bar. Wrapped around it, fastened with twine, was a note. In neat cursive were the words: You were right. Thank you for your help.

Joe couldn’t help but smile a little bit. Who the fuck was this woman.

She was a goddamn rule following narc when she wanted to be, that’s who she was. Joe and Moe may or may not have snuck out of the base one Tuesday night and gotten pissed at a nearby bar. They were too drunk to be cautious when they stumbled back onto base, their arms around each other, singing.

Valerie was walking along the well lit path to the women’s latrine when she ran into them.

“What are you guys doing?” she hissed confronting them.

“Hello sweetheart,” Moe slurred with a grin.

“Valerie!” Joe said enthusiastically, “wow thank you for the Hershey bar.”

Valerie flushed bright red, “you guys are being so loud! You’re going to get in trouble.” She looked them up and down, “how drunk are you?”  “Not drunk at all,” Moe shook his head.

Valerie wrinkled her nose, “sure smells like you are.”

“That’s rude Valerie,” Joe said jokingly.

“Yeah well you guys are going to get all of Easy in trouble tomorrow if you show up hungover.”

“We’ll be fine!” Moe waved his hand, “don’t worry about us, doll.”

“It’s not you I’m worried about,” Valerie said sharply, “its the rest of the company you’re screwin’ over. Goodnight!” she walked off shaking her head.

“What a bitch,” Moe said off-handedly.

“She’s not a bitch,” Joe immediately snapped.

Moe swayed in place, grinning stupidly at his friend. “Whoa there, you��re not in love with her now too are you?”

Joe rolled his eyes and the men stumbled back to their barracks, now a little quieter.

He would never admit it after the way Valerie had confronted them, but waking up the next day was rough. Joe was determined to keep it together just to spite Valerie. He had muscled through the morning and was hoping for a moment of respite at lunch. But to his great misfortune, tuna casserole was being served. Joe’s stomach churned as he looked down into his plate. He was hungry but he was sure that the final remains of alcohol digesting inside of him would not be happy to share his stomach with this meal.

As he contemplated whether to eat or not, Joe felt eyes on him. He looked up to see Valerie’s sympathetic face from across the mess hall. She smiled at him tenderly at him and he immediately felt pathetic in her eyes. A irrational sense of anger flared up in him and he stabbed at the casserole with his fork. He brought a first big bite into his mouth all while maintaining eye contact with Valerie. The sympathetic smile dropped from her face as she watched his performance. She narrowed her eyes, her lip curling in disgust at his juvenile defiance.

After the meal ended she came up to him, her tray as empty as his was.

“Feeling alright, Joe?” she asked as sweet as syrup.

Perspiration was beginning to form on his forehead. He was not feeling alright, in fact he felt rather clammy. Moe had done the wise thing and only eaten his buttered bread. Joe was seriously regretting not doing the same.

“Feelin’ great, how’re you feeling, Valerie?” he asked obstinately.

“I’m feeling great too,” she said smugly, because she was, and he clearly was not even if he wasn’t admitting it. “Enjoy the rest of the day!” She sashayed off.

Luckily, the mess hall was mostly empty because as soon as she was out of sight, Joe dived for a nearby trashcan and regurgitated the lunch he had just consumed.

“Better out than in,” Moe said as means of comfort, looking equally washed up.

By the end of the week Joe was ready to go out again. Just as it happens to all young men, the short term memory of how he felt after a night of binge drinking had left him by that Saturday night. Having secured and successfully retained their weekend passes, Joe and his friends bought tickets to the dance that Saturday evening.

The majority of Easy Company had the same idea and they, along with the other companies of the 101st airborne, filled the local dance hall. Joe was having a pretty good time. Beer was flowing, the band was hopping, and there was an endless supply of beautiful women to dance with. Joe was taking a break from the dance floor when he spotted Valerie spinning across the room in the arms of a dark haired gentleman from another company.

“Look at her,” Edward said appreciatively from next to Joe.

“Who?” Joe asked, pretending not to know who his friend was referring to.

“I know you don’t like her much, but Valerie, she is a looker,” Edward whistled.

Joe scowled but allowed himself a moment to check Valerie out. She wore a slightly-outdated red belted dress. Little white flowers peppered the fabric from the hem to the shoulders where the cinched neckline generously revealed her delicate collarbones.

Joe cleared his throat, “yeah, but there’s lots of good lookin’ broads around tonight.”

Edward just shrugged and downed the rest of his beer before setting out for the dance floor again. Joe did his best to avoid Valerie. He distracted himself with drinks, jokes, and other beautiful women. Despite his best efforts Joe still found himself looking across the low lit dance floor directly into Valerie’s eyes when a version of Mood Indigo came on.

It wasn’t Valerie in his arms, it was another woman. A woman he hadn’t known long enough to truly enjoy the moody slow dance with. Valerie was in the arms of the same guy she’d been with all night and she did look like she was enjoying the dance. Joe realized she was enjoying it a lot more than he wanted her to be.

The glance they had shared had been brief, she had broken it off quickly to nestle her cheek against her fellas shoulder. But that short moment had stirred something in Joe. In the dark golden light of the numerous high-hanging light bulbs Valerie’s eyes had looked like melted amber. The shadows that flickered across the hall softened her face, giving it an ethereal look. She was breathtaking and Joe wanted to be the one with his arm around her waist. He wanted to be the one she leaned her cheek against. He felt an overwhelming unreasonable hatred for this random man he didn’t know simply because he was the one who held Valerie so close.

Once the song ended, Joe politely bid goodbye to his partner and made a beeline for Valerie. She stood talking to her partner and a few other guys Joe didn’t recognize. He approached their group stiffly, his hands in his pockets. Everyone looked surprised at his arrival, especially Valerie, who was obligated to introduce him considering she was the only one who really knew him.

After a quick nod to the group Joe said, “Valerie can I talk to you?” Valerie’s brow furrowed in confusion but she politely excused herself. Joe lead her to an unoccupied side of the room near the door.

“Is something wrong?” Valerie asked, a fresh glass of champagne clutched in her perfectly manicured hands. Joe had no clue as to what he had wanted to say to her or what exactly he wanted from her. His goal had simply been to remove her from that man’s presence. In all honesty, he had no plan because he was confused on how exactly he considered her; was she a friend? An enemy? Or just another beautiful woman?

“Well, I just wanted to give you the option to dance with me,” he hesitated, watching her face for a reaction, “or one of the other Easy guys,” he added.

“Um, I’m alright, thank you, I’ve been happy dancing with-“ she gestured back at her partner.

“That guy? Psh,” Joe said dismissively, “guys a cement mixer, don’t you wanna dance with someone good?”

Red rose up in Valerie’s cheeks, “who? Like you?” she asked.

Joe shrugged, “anyone’s better than that fool.”

“You don’t even know him, Joe.”

Fair point, Joe thought, but he didn’t like the guy. “I can tell he’s a dip, just look at him!” Joe laughed.

“This is a really terrible way of asking me to dance with you!”

“Hey, I’m doin’ you a favor.”

“Me a favor? Could you be more full of yourself?”

“Me full of myself? What about you little miss perfect. I’m not the one walking around acting like you know everything.”

“I know more than you!” “See there you go, why do you gotta go around putting people down?”

“No one seems to have a problem with me except you!” Valerie shot back.

“Take it outside lovebirds,” an intoxicated private said as he passed them.

His interruption killed the argument between them. Instead they just stood glaring at each other, dark brown eyes meeting golden ones.   

Finally, Joe said, “come on, let’s dance.”

“You wish!” Valerie stomped on his foot.

Joe swallowed his curse, “fuck,” he said in a strangled a voice. Valerie turned to stalk away but Joe grabbed her elbow.

“Get off of me,” she hissed, trying her best not to make more of a scene than they already had.

“Come on.” Joe pulled her out the nearest door, throwing them both into the cool Georgian night. Now engulfed by darkness they were really free to fight it out.

“What the fuck was that for?” he demanded.

“Who do you think you are?” she shot back. “Interrupting my evening for what? Just to invite me on a pity dance? I don’t need your pity, I was enjoying myself quite a bit tonight until you started all this!” She threw her hands up in frustration. Some of the champagne from the glass still in her hand spilled over the side, onto her hand. “Ugh,” she exclaimed. She wiped her hand angrily on her dress.

Jealousy stabbed through Joe’s chest at her words. She had been enjoying herself with that guy. “What’s so special about that guy anyways? Didn’t you just meet him tonight?” he sneered.

Valerie opened her mouth to speak, then stopped. She closed it, examining him. A devilish smirk crossed her face, “oh is this what it’s about Joe? You jealous?”

  Yes. “No!” he said, “I just don’t know why you’re all moony over this guy. This is a social, not something you bring a date to.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Don’t believe me about what? This isn’t a place for dates? Not usually-”

“That you’re not jealous! What’s your problem Joe? If you’re interested in me just be a man and tell me.”

“Typical, you thinking that everyone has got to be in love with you.”

“Then tell me why you’re being so rude tonight! Either you’re jealous or you hate me.” Was there a third option? Because Joe felt like he was somewhere in between. He definitely didn’t like Valerie. She got under his skin like no one else. At the same time, there was a magnetism about her that kept drawing him in. Those eyes, those lips, even that temper. He wanted to grab her and kiss her just to shut her up.

“And if you hated me you wouldn’t be bothering with all this!”  Joe was barely even listening to her at this point.

He could feel his blood pumping; the adrenaline and anger mixing together to create a roar in ears that made it impossible to comprehend everything she was saying. He knew he was going to do it even as he counseled himself against it. He surprised himself with his sudden movement; he snatched her waist and pulled her into a hard kiss.

Immediately, she pushed him away. “What the hell!” she threw the remainder of her champagne in his face. Cooly, Joe wiped the liquid off his face with the sleeve.

“You told me to tell you!”

“Not like that!”

He stood glaring at her. She glared back, her now empty glass hanging pointlessly from her hand. There was nothing but silence between them, and the chirp of insects in the night sky. The faint sounds from the festivities inside filtered out but Joe and Valerie were completely in their own world, in a standoff.

Then suddenly, mutually, something shifted between them. Flaring rage turned to lust. Simultaneously they lunged for each other. Joe wrapped one arm around her waist, the other hungrily snaking up her thigh. Valerie’s fingers twisted in his hair, tugging at the thick, dark tendrils. He bit down on her lip as she pulled on his hair. Their kisses were messy and hungry; all the pent up anger and tension that had built up between them expressed in an intimate power struggle as they moved to devour each other.

“You drive me crazy,” Joe pulled away for breath.

Her lipstick was completely gone, its last traces staining her swollen mouth red. “I can’t stand you,” she retorted. He kissed her again, tangling her hand in her hair. Their pace slowed from the previous feverish speed to something more sensual without losing its fervor. Joe had her pressed against the building wall. His hands cupped her her jaw and slid down her throat. His mind was muddled with his detestation for this woman and the aching physical desire that was taking over him. She must have felt similarly as one hand pushed against his pelvis, as if warding him off, while the other dug fingernails into the nape of neck, forcing him in closer.

Once again they surfaced for air, this time taking time to really look at each other. The sound of their panting filled the space around them as her eyes searched his for some explanation.

“What’re we doing, Joe?” her voice was oddly vulnerable. Joe traced her jaw with a calloused thumb.

“I don’t know.” He pushed away from her and ran a hand through his tousled hair. Cold air entered the space where their bodies were previously connected. It sent a shiver through Valerie. “I don’t know,” Joe repeated.

He stepped back even further into the dark, his hand on his hips. He kicked a rock on the ground.

“You don’t like me,” Valerie said with the slight intonation of a question. Joe sucked his teeth. “And,” she continued slowly, “I don’t know if I like you.”

“I don’t know how I feel about you,” Joe said.

Valerie crossed her arms, her eyes bore into him. She was waiting for him to say something else, to offer a but. But it never came.

After a few unbearable minutes of silence she finally said, “I’m going back inside, Joe.” The patch of darkness he stood in was filled with a momentary field of light as she opened the door. Then, she was gone and Joe was alone in the darkness.

Joe did his best to avoid Valerie after that, but he felt her golden eyes on him in the mess hall. He wanted to provide her with answers, to tell her how he was feeling, but he didn’t know. He told himself there was a nothing to like about her - she was a pretentious kiss ass who seemed to have every guy wrapped around her finger. But he saw through her - he wasn’t going to fall for her like everyone else had.

Yet, she consumed his thoughts. All the pieces of love and hate swirled in his mind as he desperately tried to conceive a clear way to explain how he was feeling. He didn’t like her, but he might be falling in love with her. But even if he had realized this sooner, it still came too late.

In a matter of weeks she was stepping out with the dark haired guy she had hit it off with that night. He was a boring, strait laced guy, or at least that’s what Joe had gathered from Bill. The guys dullness was obvious. From what Joe witnessed, there was no fire between them. Not that it was his place to care, he reminded himself. Every time Joe saw them together he avoided her gaze. He knew he would see that look that was begging him to step in, to step up and interrupt this course she was on. But, as long as she was with this guy Joe had an excuse not to love her.

#hbo war #band of brothers #joe liebgott #joe liebgott x oc #fanfiction #BoB #hbo band of brothers #angst #heartbreak

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whitewolfbumble · 6 years

Text

Those Unspoken Years (Sam Wilson x Reader, One Shot)

Summary: You, Sam, and Riley were a team, but because you had failed on that one fateful mission, everything changed. Back home, you were still trying to work through your guilt when your old partner shows up and faces you again.

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warnings: Death, PTSD, survivor’s guilt, language, some angst liberally peppered in!

Word Count: About 3.5k

A/N: This was an Anon Request for Sam Wilson: “Hey so I was hoping if you could write fanfic with sam wilson and reader, they were like great mates in army and they reunited again, you know something nice, maybe a bit angsty. It’s just there are not so many sam fanfics and I think he deserves so much love. Thank you in advance” I hope you enjoy love! It’s certainly a little bit intense in spots! Forgive me any ignorance for the army stuff... I am chill Canadian and not really into that kind of thing! lol

MY MASTERLIST // SEND A MARVEL REQUEST

“Ten miles out, sweeping the target zone.” you said into the comm.

Your boys were up there, already in position, waiting for your word. It was the second last mission before you left back to HQ then home. After this one you were air support for a convoy. Basic. An easy send off to a challenging and rewarding few years together as a team.

You were the 58th squadron, an elite pararescue team, skilled in the EXO-7 Falcon proto-type. No one was better than your team was.

The three of you had been a unit for three years now: training, living, surviving, and kicking ass together. You hadn’t expected it to be easy, but the three of you clicked faster than you thought.

You were their commanding officer. A woman, trying to keep in line two young flyboys with egos and attitudes too big to fit into a jet plane, much less a jet pack. But your own attitude rivaled most men and you had the added benefit of giving the orders here. Eventually your relationships eased into ones of respect and devout trust once they realized you were always right, you would always keep them safe, and you were definitively not without humour yourself.

By now, you actually loved these two jerks.

“Skies are looking good up here... I’m really going to miss this.” Riley said wistfully.

“Don’t worry soldier, the sky happens to be pretty well all over the world so youre in luck.” you teased.

“Ha, ha.” he said drily.

Though your voice was light and easy, your eyes were scanning the screens in front of you, bunkered down in a big canvas tent, boots digging into the sand underneath you. Your base of operations was wherever you needed it to be, and today it was in a scalding hot hidden inlet on the edge of a pile of rocks. Hidden from view, you stayed focused on the images in front of you, your two flyboys little blips on the screen.

Despite the satellite image you pictured them up there, cloud and air whipping past them, focused and flying free.

“Readjust Wilson, keep steady at 43 degrees.” you said in your smooth commanding tone, before switching back to your normal one. “I’m surprised you left that come-back to me Sam... Loosing your touch in your old age? We have been out here a few years now.”

“Flight path adjusted, 43 degrees. Confirmed.” said Sam. “Hardly, just looking forward to getting the sand out of my boots for good and home to sweet ole American soil.”

“Aren’t we all.” you agreed, shifting your boots in deeper. “Eight miles out and counting.”

“Eight miles. Confirmed.” came Riley’s voice.

“So where are we flying off to after this?” Sam said. “I’m thinking somewhere at night...”

“A boozy downtown bar.” you filled in, continuing his idea.

You were used to playing this game with Sam. Imagining happier scenarios than the ones you were in kept you all sane. Of course it would be shut down by you before they engaged, but it kept any nerves at bay in the meantime. The storm was bad enough sometimes, and waiting for it in anxious silence just made it worse.

You had tried in the early days to play the three of you, but Riley’s suggestions were always boring when he did answer, which usually had took ten minutes. Part of the game included the one who broke the chain had to buy a round of drinks. Riley would always make you both break out of feigned frustration so it was easier just to exclude him (much to everyone’s playful jabs back at the base).

“Playing Smokey Robinson.”

“With one smoking hot bartender Jacques.” you teased, flicking on the backup satellite locator, used to pinpoint your two flyboys should satellite one go down.

You were always careful. It had kept the three of you alive so long. Triple checking and vetting any intel was part of the daily routine.

“With you there, I have all the smoking hot I need.” Sam quipped.

“Ha ha, yeah right Wilson.” you said, interrupting the game. It meant you had to buy the next round, but you didn’t care.

“What? This is our last mission. I can finally start flirting with you.” he said.

“Second last,” you corrected, keeping the flutter in your stomach down. “I’m still you commanding officer until it’s done.”

“And when it’s done, I’ll ask you out to that downtown bar.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure you will.” you said, a little roll to your eyes to no one.

More than once Sam had flirted with you- just a little- but just enough to keep you wondering and keep a little burning heat flaming in your gut. Deflecting was easier than going along with his subtle words. It would save your heart quite the crashing fall if he was just joking.

You were secretly head of heels for that sarcastic, kind-hearted fool. His bravery and soul-rooted goodness shocked you time and time again. He had not once failed to do the right- and often the hard- thing. Your respect for Sam had grown through the years, planting itself deeper in your heart day by day. In a world full of blood and death and bullets, his steadfast warm-heartedness remained.

And now it wasn’t long until you could find out for sure if he felt the same.

But also, not long until you could actually act on it. Once this and the next mission was done, he would no longer be your subordinate. You could flirt with him as much as you wanted too. Go on that date like you wanted too. Find out if kissing him was an exercise in expressing his gentle spirit, or intensity like he had during a fight...

“Alright boys, comms cleared.” you said, clearing your throat. It was definitely warm in here, for a few reasons. “We’re t-minus five miles until the target. Systems and secure comm check now.”

“Sam, systems cleared. Mission is a go.”

“Riley, systems cleared. Mission is a go.”

“You know the drill, and easy point a shoot, alright. Target coordinates are locking in now, just following the big green ball, grab the loot, then turn tail and fly home. No heroes today, neither of you are cut out for it”

You switched your target system from standby to active, the recon team under your command having swept and vetted the area. The target- Khalid Khandil- was clear, located in a small building on a large private property lot.

Rampant security detail kept helicopters or more serious artillery from moving in, so your elite squad was called in. The mission was to take out the security detail surround him, extract the target, and get back to base. Minimal casualties predicted. Stealth and speed was the name of your game, and the three of you had that in spades.

“All points, confirm guidance system up.” you continued, flicking on systems in prep for engagement.

“Guidance confirmed.” they both rung out. Little green lights should be lighting up the enemies in their googles now, while yours were on another screen that tracked their vitals

“One mile out. Okay, make me proud boys.” you said, as you always did. “Engage full force when you are within range.”

You were miles and miles away from them so all you had was you monitor screen of the satellite image and their voices on the comm. But you had been in the field yourself for years. You knew exactly how harry a fight could get, and how fast.

The comms were silent now, everyone holding their tongue as their energy went into focusing, breathing, and mentally preparing for this mission.

It only took a few minutes for everything to go to shit and your worst nightmare became your reality.

“Firing at will!” Sam yelled in his comm, sudden sounds of bullets ringing out. “Enemies engaged!”

The boys rang out the numbers they took down, calling back for support from the other when needed, you directing and commanding the two from afar.

But soon you heard explosions above the bullets. They were terribly loud with a high pitched keening sound before a cracking boom. You knew that sound.

“Wilson, confirm what it is I’m hearing. Are there explosions RPG’s?”

Your screen was lighting up like bursts of light were popping up all around them. You knew what it was before you asked, your stomach sinking.

“Confirmed! RPG’s!” Riley answered back, yelling over the shrieking noise, unending sound of a full firefight coming in loud and clear.

“Ten men down- shit!- eleven!” Sam roared, dodging grenades and explosions.

This was wrong, the fight should be over by now. On your screen you saw multiple enemies looking to be coming out of bunkers among the flashes of light.

This kind of engagement was too much for the two of them. Your recon of the area didn’t pull any of this up and they needed to get out of there now.

“Pull back!” you shouted to them. “That’s an order!”

Your instincts were generally flawless, and this may have just started but it wasn't ending fast enough. You didn’t consistently win and you didn’t save lives by taking unnecessary risks. Your commanders put a lot of stock in that, appreciating you taking such good care of their expense equipment. You more so cared about the men in it.

You watched the two of them whiz around the area chaotically, trying to avoid grenades rocketed in the air, exploding all around them.

“Squad, I’m pulling you out now! Get back to base, that is an order. We aren’t pr-” you started, before Riley spoke over you.

“They all have them, I can’t -we can’t-”

An explosion rang out loud in your headset, jerking you from a tense sitting position to standing, eyes wildly searching the screen for your squad.

His terrified, pained scream blasted your ears on the other end, before silence.

And in that moment your world was shot out of the sky.

“Wilson, Riley!” you screamed into the headset, heart somehow both racing and stopped in your chest. “Confirm your positions!”

But the screen didn’t lie.

He was gone.

Riley was gone.

Shot out of the sky.

Miles away from him, you watched their vitals, one little blip where two should be.

You were the commanding officer.

This was on you.

Solely on you.

You had killed him.

“Sam,” you said, voice low and loud, instantly in full commander mode. “Our satellite has Riley down, can you confirm?”

“He’s... he’s.” Sam sputtered, then let out a ferocious yell, whizzing through the air, firing everything he had in shock and pain and fury. You saw enemy after enemy go down at his skilled hand.

“Confirm damn it!”

“Confirmed.” he yelled eventually, voice cracking. “I have an opening, do I have confirmation to take it?

You paused a split second before continuing, shocked and weighing your options quickly. Voice steady you answered as your eyes filling up with tears.

“You complete this mission and get that son of a bitch, then get your ass back here now, soldier! That’s an order!”

Years later, you were back in D.C.

Your life since losing Riley was a myriad of deep uncover missions, taking you farther and farther away from that day, from Sam, from all of it. You received medals and honours, some public knowledge, many off the books.

Your determination wasn’t about the recognition. It was about burying the pain of losing both Riley and Sam in the same day. In different ways they were both out of your life forever. The guilt of Riley’s death on your shoulders, the unspoken love for Sam strangling your heart.

You had a hard time with Riley’s death to this day but in the days just after the mission, it was a thousand times worse. You remembered the look on Sam’s face as he came back to base with Khalid Khandil in tow. Soldiers carried the man off, leaving the two of you there alone.

As you reached out for him, you dusty, grim soldier, you almost completely broke yourself. The only think keeping you up was how much Sam broke in your arms. He cracked and cried and crushed you under the weight of his grief. You held each other, riding out waves of pain and anguish and failure. But eventually, he pushed you away, wiping his eyes and leaving, unable to be near you.

He shut you down. And you understood why,

It had been your fault. All of it. You should have known. You should have been there. You should have managed the situation better. It was on you. And it was right that Sam blamed you. That he push you away because of it.

So Sam retired from the army, moving back to D.C.. But you couldn’t do that. Your punishment wasn’t enough. And you figured Sam wouldn't want you now, even in the same country as you.

So you stayed. And you fought. And you rose through the ranks. You collected badges and medals and honours and respect. You were an unstoppable, uncompromising force, channeling every bad experience you had into winning, into protecting those that you could protect. Because you couldn’t protect Riley. And you didn’t have the one person in this world that could make you feel something, anything resembling love or joy.

But your time there was not endless. It couldn’t be, even your superiors understood that.

So here you were now, back in D.C. of all places, on a special request. The last one you would receive.

The hall was dressed up simply, beige walls and folding chairs in front of the podium. They had moved it down off the stage at the back to the main floor, wanting a closer, more intimate feel.

Little flags and banners and frills were covered in red white and blue here. Your three colours were different: brown and black and red. Dirt and darkness and blood.

“Last week when I flew back here from my hometown,” you continued to the small crowd. A crowd of veterans and soldiers that understood your trauma.

“I had a flight attendant with the same name as him. And all I could hear for the rest of the flight was the sound of him screaming as they killed him. As I let him die. It’s filled my dreams. It’s what I heard every time I put on my headset for a mission. The sound of a man- of a friend- dying because of my failure.”

You weren’t crying. You weren’t close to this anymore. It was life. This pain was what you’ve been experiencing for years. Crying over it now you might outwardly say to someone was childish, but inwardly you knew you just couldn’t spend that emotional energy on it. You had never fully dealt with it and just didn’t really know how. Same with the love you felt.

But you looked at the crowd of soldiers, all there for the same reason. They were all carrying the pain of the death of someone or the price of killing someone. They were trying. You all were trying to deal with this baggage.

“I came back here to receive my final honour for my service. A special ceremony in my honour, here at the capital. But all I’m going to be able to think about is the fact that he won’t be able to do that. That he didn’t get a chance. That he would've been a far better soldier than I turned out to be.”

You took a gulp of air before taking a gulp of water from a little dixie cup you brought up with you.

“But I’m going to try now. Try to grieve. Try to live. In honour of him, but for myself.”

Without the army as a cover, you had no choice but to do so now.

With that, you sat down, and the speaker took up his spot back at the podium. He wrapped up the session, coming back to you to shake your hand afterward. You didn’t feel much like talking, so you politely excused yourself to get another little paper cup of water.

You didn’t notice that someone had been watching from the doorway behind you the entire time.

Standing at the little refreshment table, you threw away the little dixie cup, lingering while the others began filing out. You heard someone walking up beside you and turned to see a man you were not at all expecting.

Sam Wilson.

He hadn’t changed a bit, not to your eyes.

Wearing jeans and button up unlike the last time you saw him, he still wore the same crooked smile that always had made you smile unconsciously back.

This time you just couldn’t.

“Sam,” you breathed.

Shocked, he pulled you in for a hug. Memories of Sam coming back after Riley’s death, breaking in your arms flooded your mind.

When he pulled away, you cleared your throat, stepping back a little.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” you said, still shocked. You stomach was on the floor and your heart in your throat. “How are you?”

“Doing well, living my own life now.” he said lightly, though his eyes told another story. You just weren’t sure what. “Congratulations on your honour... though I just don’t think you’ve been doing too great huh.”

He nodded to the podium. You swallowed, unsure how to respond.

How did you even talk to someone you had known deeply- had loved deeply- that was absent from your life for years? You had at one time spoken to him about your dreams, your feelings (save the ones for him), your goals and plans, everything. And he had done the same.

Should you act like you had forgotten? That he wasn’t still- even after all these years- the most important person that has ever been in your life?

“I’ve taken my time,” you admitted. “Don’t know if I will ever get over it.

“Don’t say that.” he said, stepping forward, taking your hand. You looked at his hand in yours, feeling the smooth warmth spread across your fingers. Another, familiar warmth spread in your stomach.

It was only for a moment before he let go and stepped back a little.

“I don’t mean to... well, I’m sure you have someone else in your life now, to help you.”

“No, not quite. The army kind of disapproves of that kind of thing on the job, and that’s where I’ve been since you left.”

“I didn’t want to leave.” Sam said, suddenly. Fuck, that wasn’t the point you were trying to make.

“No, no, you... I’m sorry, I don’t know why I put it like that.” It was impossible to think you would be this awkward with him of all people, but here you were, proving yourself wrong.

“I wanted to stay, Y/N. Really I did.” he said, voice low and rich like you remember it to be. “I would have stayed by you forever. But I just didn’t think you wanted me too.”

... What?

“Why did you think that?” you said, more than a little floored.

Before Sam could answer, a few volunteers came in to put away and clean the refreshment table you were standing against. Sam lightly took your elbow, leading you across the hall to a small, quiet room.

He took a moment, hands on his hips before getting into it. You tried not to focus on his lips, somewhat unsuccessfully. God, it had just been so long since you laid eyes on him. Long enough to convince yourself that the man you remembered was not the same as the real deal. But heart-achingly, he was even better.

“Listen, Riley’s death was awful.” Sam started, trying to find the words. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget that or him. Because it was my fault. He was my partner and he died beside me. You blaming me for that and not want me around wa-”

“What?!” you exclaimed, completely floored before just letting the floodgates you had pent up for years open wide, unbelieving he could possibly have felt that way. Now the tears started coming, filling up your eyes with a vengeance for the years you denied them.

“I was the commanding officer. He was mine to look after, to protect. You both were. And I failed. I felt shattered, guilty for so many reasons, and I thought you didn’t want me around. I loved you and knew that it was all my fault, that you would never-”

But you didn’t finish, Sam’s arms wrapping around your waist, arms pulling you closer while his body pushed you back against the wall. He lips were suddenly set to yours, earnest and sweet.

He pulled away only slightly to look down at you. You hadn’t had enough time to stop the tears, looking up at him through still watery, stunned eyes.

“I uh, I understand now you said “loved” as in you don’t anymore...”

“You’re right,” you swallowed, gaze locked to his, drinking in his eyes and smell and heat pressed against you. “I said “loved” but I... meant, well I mean... love. I loved you then, and I just... never stopped.”

You felt his chest well with emotion, jaw clenching tight against it. You expected him to kiss you again, passionate and intense as his eyes grew a deep, fiery look. But instead, he softly moved his fingers across your cheek, surprising you with how gentle he was, then into your hair.

“I loved you too. I still do.” he said softly.

He might have kissed you. He might have literally just said he loved you. But you still couldn’t believe it. Not after all this time longing and aching for him.

“Since day one in fact, when you berated my ass for making a stupid, cocky decision, and saved my life in doing so.” he said, smiling at the fond early days you had together.

“Yeah,” you joked, looking down and wiping a tear away. “You were the worst soldier I had seen. I’m surprised you made it out alive.”

You let that line slip, heart sinking and body shocked still as you remembered.

Riley.

Oh god, the pain gripped you again, seizing your lungs and soul.

But Sam leaned back in, wrapping you into him deeply. He stood, holding you together like you had done for him once.

“I got through this,” he whispered in your ear. “Let me help you get through this.”

All you could do was wrap your arms tightly around him, pressing your face into him.

"Just don’t let go, not this time.” you whispered through choking tears.

“Never.”

Thank you for the request, Anon! I have yet to read a single Sam fic or write for him, so I’d love to hear what you all thought!

Tags: @dontpanc @thefalconsam (because well, Sam)pp

#sam wilson #falcon #sam wilson x reader #falcon x reader #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fanfiction #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #avengers #avengers fanfic #avengers fanfiction

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thelastspeecher · 6 years

Note

I'd like to see #12 (pretending to be lovers) for Stanige, in whatever au you think fits best

12. We were pretending to be lovers but I’m not pretending anymore and I have to know if you feel the same way

I went with a Spy-type AU for this, and came up with too much backstory, as per usual. So, Stan, Angie, and Ford are all employed by some sort of spy agency (maybe federal, idk), but Angie doesn’t know the Stans’ first names, and the Stans don’t know her first name. It’s a safety precaution. The Stans actually think that Angie’s last name is Gucket, bc they misheard “McGucket” as “Miss Gucket” when she was first introduced to them. Before you ask, yes, there’s a moment at some point after this fic where the Stans and Angie first see each other outside of work, and it’s at lunch with Fiddleford. And no, Stan and Angie still don’t know each other’s first name.

Send me a ship and a number and I’ll write a ficlet!

Stan walked down the hall withhis partner. The further they got fromthe ballroom, the more the sound from the gala faded.

“Wish the bosses ‘d stop havingus crash all these upper-crust shindigs,” Stan said to his partner,Gucket. She chuckled.

“Nah, I like gettin’ the chanceto dress up all nice. I ain’t been goin’on many dates lately.”

“I can fix that.”

“What, are ya goin’ to set me upwith someone, Pines?” Gucket asked cheekily, shooting a crooked grin in hisdirection.

“That’d be hard to do, since Idon’t know your first name.”

“Mm. That’s a good point.” Gucket came to a stop outside a nondescriptdoor. “Is this it?”

“Looks like.”

“All right, lock, time to getpicked,” Gucket muttered. She glanced atStan. “Keep watch, will ya?”

“Sure. But, uh, I’m pretty good at picking locks,y’know,” Stan said. “I could doit.” He patted his dress slacks. “…Didn’t bring my kit, though.”

“It’sokay, I brought mine.” Gucket reached upand undid a pin, letting loose her elegant updo. Now kinked from the hairstyle, hercaramel-colored curls cascaded down past her ears but stopped short of hershoulders. Gucket crouched in front ofthe door and stuck her tongue out in concentration as she finagled the pin inthe lock. She flipped her hair back toget it out of her face.

Stan abruptly realized that he had stopped breathing.

He coughed loudly. Gucket eyed him. “What now?” she asked.

“Just coughing is all.”

“Geez, it’s almost like ya wantto get caught,” Gucket muttered, focusing on the lockpicking again. “Makin’ noise, not keepin’ an eye out. Good thing I covered fer us when ya forgot tokeep watch earlier.”

“Yeah, uh, that- that was apretty- a pretty good cover,” Stan fumbled, feeling his heartrate pick up atthe memory. “The fancy people that go togalas don’t, uh, they don’t seem like the type to watch people make out.”

“Not in public, at least,” Gucketadded. She frowned at the lock. “That sort of thing makes proper folkuncomfortable, and it’s the behavior ya see in datin’ couples, so it meshedwith our alias. Win-win.”

“You definitely think fast onyour feet,” Stan mumbled.

“You, too.”

“So, uh,” Stan started, his voicethick. He cleared his throat. “Why do you think the bosses keep sending uson these, uh, these date missions?”

“‘Date missions’? Ya mean how we pretend we’re datin’?”

“Yeah.” “Easy. We get along well, our skills ‘recomplementary, and yer twin brother’s too gay to pretend to be interested inme.” The lock clicked. Gucket grinned triumphantly. “Oh, and we’re the most attractive operativesthey’ve got.” She stood up and winked atStan.

“Heh.” Stan rubbed the back ofhis neck. “Yeah, but they don’t have tomake us pretend to be dating. There areother covers.” Gucket pushed open thenow unlocked door, revealing an empty room with white tiled floors. “Almost makes you think they know something.”

“Uh, like that if we actedsingle, we wouldn’t get time alone to do our job? We’d get hit on by strangers nonstop,‘specially in the sort of getup we’ve been in lately.” She cocked her head at the seemingly barrenroom. “Wonder if they’ve got lasers ofsome sort. This seems too easy.”

“Dammit, Gucket,” Stan burstout. Gucket looked at him,startled. “I like you.”

“Aw, I like ya, too, Pines. But we’re kind of in the middle ofsomethin’.”

“No, not- not that way.”

“…Not that-”

“I’ve got a crush on you, okay?”Stan blurted out. Gucket’s eyeswidened. “These last few missions havebeen hell. Even though I get to kissyou, it- it’s not real, and- I don’t get to go home with you. I don’t even know your name.”

“That’s- that’s by design,”Gucket said. “Our names are secret forour safety.”

“Really? That’sthe part you’re gonna respond to?”

“Pines…” Gucket bit her lip. “It’s, uh, it’s a good thing we were doin’radio silence. The boys at HQ would’vehad a field day with that there confession of yours,” she said after amoment. Stan’s heart dropped to hisfeet.

“So that’s your answer,” he saidquietly. Gucket opened her mouth. “No, I- I get it, you were trying to let medown easy.”

“No, Pines, that’s not-”

“You weren’t trying to let me down easy?”

“No!” Gucket took a step closer. Her foot slipped over the door’sthreshold. An alarm began to blare. “…Shoot.”

“If they know we’re here, mightas well stop being careful,” Stan said, stepping past Gucket into the room.

“Pines-” Gucket started.

“You wanted to do the job and getit over with, so let’s do that,” Stan interrupted. Gucket grabbed his arm. He turned, about to tell her off, but beforehe could speak, she kissed him. Shebroke off the kiss and smiled at him.

“Of course I’m crushin’ on you,too,” Gucket said softly. “I weren’tjokin’ when I called us the most attractive operatives, and those ‘fakekisses’? They sure had some heat behind‘em.” Stan stared at her. He could feel a flush started to spreadacross his cheeks. “Yer funny, clever,and try awful hard to hide that yer a big ole softie. There’s somethin’ special ‘bout you, and thesecond I saw it, I was done fer.”

“…Damn, you always gotta show meup, huh, Gucket?” Stan managed. “That-that was a fuckin’ poem.” Gucket grinned. Voices began to shout in the distance. “Shit. We gotta go.”

“I was tryin’ to get ya to holdoff on the romantic confession. Why doya think I was deflectin’ so many of yer compliments?”

“Well, you didn’t do a very goodjob,” Stan said. Gucket rolled her eyesand elbowed him.

“Shut up. Let’s find this evidence and scrab-doodle outof here.”

“‘Scrab-doodle’?” Stan asked. “I take back my crush.” Gucket kissed him on the cheek.

“Nuh-uh. No takin’ it back, Pines.”

#when the Stans first see Angie outside of work they are surprised #Fidds described his sister as a sweet lil thing that likes to take walks in nature #neither of them were expecting the female spy that kicks ass and has shot multiple bad guys without hesitation #Stangie #Angie McGucket #Stanley Pines #ficlet #writing meme #my writing #ask #Anonymous #Spy AU

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