While the Allies land in Normandy on D-Day, Gale and Bucky reach their own turning point of the war. After a brutal fight in the stalag followed by a devastating choice, Galeâs life is on the line and they have no way to get him the medical help he needs. Now Bucky must face the truth: he might have just killed the man he loves. 3 Chapters. Complete.
Of Course Iâm Not Afraid of Needles - Rated M
Gale Clevenâs case of the flu should have been nothing more than a miserable few days in the infirmary. The last thing anyone expected was for their calm, cool, and collected Major to have a violent reaction to something as simple as a needle.
As Gale becomes delirious with fever, the truth is laid bare for all to see - Gale was tortured by the Naziâs before making it to Stalag Luft III. How will Gale react to Bucky bearing witness to a part of Galeâs war that he was never meant to see? 2 Chapters. Complete.
A Hitchhikerâs Guide to the Universe (and Accidentally Falling in Love) - Rated E
Earth is dead. The Atlantis Space Station is dying. Itâs the year 2443 and Majors Bucky Egan and Gale Cleven, pilots of the USS Odyssey, are tasked with transporting 5,000 civilians to safety before setting off on humanityâs last hope mission to find a new home.
They share a cockpit, a mission and a rank â but thatâs where the similarities end. Bucky thinks that Galeâs a stiff golden boy. Gale thinks Buckyâs a reckless pain in the ass. Sparks fly and itâs not from a supernova explosion. The two pilots must find a way to work together to save mankind and ultimately, each other. (Star Trek AU) Chapter 6/? In Process.
My Little Kriegie Marconi - Rated T
A not so innocent pet name, a radio built from scraps and two pilots too stubborn to ask for the comfort they so desperately need. Or, what happens when Bucky and Gale finally admit what they really mean to each other in the Stalag. One Shot. Complete.
The Ghost of Gale Cleven - Rated Explicit
Gale escapes from the march without Bucky and carries immense guilt and shame for his actions. He is haunted by the fact that he doesnât know if Bucky is dead or alive. He returns to Thorpe Abbotts a shell of himself, and the perfect Gale Cleven begins to unravel. He stops eating, he canât sleep, he starts drinking, smoking and gambling. He is in free fall with no Bucky there to catch him. Gale is trapped inside his worst nightmare â the very real possibility that Bucky could be dead while heâs alive and becoming just like his father. 4/5 Chapters Posted. In Process.
I Wonât Go Where You Canât Follow - Rated T
What if Gale had NOT escaped during the march? Bucky is forced to watch as Gale is beaten within an inch of his life. The two finally confess their true feelings for each other and Bucky is Galeâs lifeline during the brutal march to Moosburg and the tribulations that follow. Epilogue shows their life after the war. 8 Chapters. Complete.
Lucky - Rated T
Galeâs two ill-fated Bremen missions result in a catastrophic injury and getting shot down. This is the story of those two missions, two pilots falling in love and one sheepskin jacket. Written for the MOTA 1st Anniversary event. Complete.
Iâm Fine - Rated T
In the Stalag, Buck gets so run down that he gets dangerously sick. Heâs been raised to believe that sickness is a weakness. Bucky is there to teach him that heâs worthy of being taken care of. 5 Chapters. Complete. (My first fic so this wasnât my best work, go easy on me here!)
"A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy (and accidentally falling in love) Ch. 6: by @stars-remain2 and StevieWicks45.
Summary:
Earth is dead. The Atlantis Space Station is dying. Itâs the year 2443 and Majors Bucky Egan and Gale Cleven, pilots of the USS Odyssey, are tasked with transporting 5,000 civilians to safety before setting off on humanityâs last hope mission to find a new home.
They share a cockpit, a mission and a rank â but thatâs where the similarities end. Bucky thinks that Galeâs a stiff golden boy. Gale thinks Buckyâs a reckless pain in the ass. Sparks fly and itâs not from a supernova explosion. The two pilots must find a way to work together to save mankind and ultimately, each other.
Chapter 6 AO3 link: Kaine's Sirius
***
Gale canât help the choked off sound that tries to bubble up out of his throat at the thought of home. Up until two weeks ago, Galeâs definition of home had been cut and dry. Home wasnât a place, it was a person. Two people, in fact. His omega father Teddy, and his twin sister Marge.Â
When John Egan risked it all - including his own life - to save him, Galeâs definition of home became murky. For the first time in his life, Gale Cleven saw something as gray and not black and white. John Egan, as frustrating and nauseatingly arrogant as he is, started bringing a hint of color into Galeâs world. And a hell of a lot of confusion. Â
Gale supposes that the stars are like that too. They are the oxymorons of the heavens after all, contradictions in every sense of the word.
Why? Because we only see stars when itâs dark outside. The light is only visible because of the dark. Because of the yawning void of blackness that is space, we have light.Â
The heavens too, are little more than organized chaos. Gale has studied the constellations enough to know that we humans have crafted shapes and stories out of stars to make sense of things that do not make any sense at all. We have grouped them together to form constellations that are in all actuality, light years apart.Â
He knows itâs kind of like he and John. They too are light years apart. He thinks that John is the Big Dipper and he is the Little Dipper, the sameâŚand yet so very different. Worlds apart.Â
Despite the way Gale may have acted, or despite the things he may have said, Gale finds Johnâs size to be, well, attractive. He is a giant hulk of a man and he doesnât just walk, he lumbers. Though the two of them are similar in height, their builds are completely different. Benny has called John a âbrick shit houseâ on more than one occasion. It makes Gale smile to think of the memory.Â
If John were to stand in front of Gale right now, Gale would simply disappear. Itâs something he always used to find strangely comforting. Still standing with his hand braced against the wall, Gale jerks it back as though heâs been burned, continuing his way to a stateroom he hopes is empty. The last thing he needs right now is Johnny Brady on his ass about leaving.Â
Though it isnât until Gale is laying in his top bunk, staring at the steel ceiling and the taped photo of himself, Marge and Teddy does he finally realize why Johnâs rejection at the viewing window affected him so badly.Â
John had made Gale feel small.
Hello! This chapter has been a long time coming but we worked so diligently hard on it even if that meant about 100 words or less when life felt a little easier for a few minutes. Gale is having a little bit of a mental crisis and John is falling utterly and deeply in love. Enjoy :)
Hey i hope you're doing great. I was wondering if you're planning on continuing A Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. I really love it
Yes! We are about 80% done with chapter 6 and it's a long one I've started to work on again this week actually. So sorry about the delay. @stars-remain2 and I both live pretty busy/chaotic lives right now and writing has been set aside in order to prioritize our and mental health and navigate solo parenting :)
I can't speak for my dear friend and co-writer but personally my spouse is currently deployed to the Middle East in the ongoing war with Iran so it's hard to find time for fandom as well as being a mom and a full-time working Nurse. Regardless, I hope to update both my WIPS's here soon and I hope you enjoy it!!
pls update the ghost of gale cleven đ best fic ever
Hiiii!
I promise I have not abandoned this fic! Iâve been going through a really hard time in my personal life and getting into the headspace this fic requires hasnât been healthy up until now. After all, we left Gale holding a pistol to his head. đ
I have written both the beginning and ending of the next chapter, which is also the end of the story. I have a full outline detailed out now and plan to keep chipping away at it in the coming weeks. Thank you for caring about this fic, it means more than I can express. I promise to give it - and the Buckies - the fitting ending you all deserve!
He wants to chuckle at the disgruntled sleepy bunny look on Galeâs face, like John had committed the biggest sin by leaving the bed. A chilled hand shoves at his bicep before Gale climbs into the stall, truly it is not big enough for both of them, but neither of them care right now. Two long arms wind around his waist to pull his body into Galeâs front, his face tucks into Johnâs throat to nuzzle close.
John will never admit to it, but a half asleep or freshly woken up Gale was one of his favorite versions, only because his guard wasnât up and he was cuddly. It had taken John a long time to realize that Gale doesnât seek comfort through touch the way he does, Gale looks for comfort by someone else just being there with him. Even if Gale will suffer in silence, he seems to like to do it with John right by his side, which is something John will do until the end of time.
âDid I wake ya?â
~~~
ao3 link
special thanks to @steviewicks45 & @stars-remain2 for betaing this one and going ham in the comments on the doc. I appreciate you both and love you both
So, umm, the juxtaposition between these two photos of Gale is insane.
Iâm still convinced we missed a whole subplot in that stalag. This isnât justâŚmalnutrition? Or watching your boyfriend want to throw himself at the fence on the daily. Right? RIGHT?!
tell me more about the Buckies failing out of flying fighter planes pls youâve awoken something in me
Re itâs likely the Buckies flunked out of fighter pilot training
YES OK FIRST itâs very important we keep in mind that THIS is the era of Buckies weâre talking about:
Absolutely smol boys who just met and suddenly are having this new chaotic life and all these feelings and have latched onto each other HARD. Bucky is lanky and awkward and eager and hasnât grown into his hands and feet and still gets growing pains for Peteâs sake, and Gale might have shown up fresh off the recruit bus with no belongings and some fading bruises from his dad.
They advance through the levels of training absolutely glued at the hip. And somewhere along the line things get hard. Not the flying, theyâre passing that with, well, flying colors. But itâs the other stuff. Weather theory is fucking HARD, so is learning all the radio systems and engine systems and endless math required for every goddamn second of flight planning.
Bucky flunks a test, one of the seemingly millions of papars with letters and numbers that made his head swim, and gets the boot. Heâs inconsolable, wrecked not because fighters are no longer an option (he thinks the bombers are cool too) but because he and Gale will be separated, and âit was supposed to be the two of usâ is the only thing he can whisper in the privacy of their bunkroom. The second Gale sees Bucky crumbleâfailing to hide tears that heâs ashamed of but he canât help it because it hurts to fail but itâs unbearable pain to lose Galeâand suddenly Gale knows what heâs going to go. Buckyâs gangly hands are clutched in his jacket and his eyes are wet and heartbroken and his breath is hitching with dry sobs heâs trying to hold back because heâs a grown-up now. Galeâs trying to smear the tears off his flushed cheeks, trying to comfort Bucky who just buries his face his Galeâs shoulder. He tells Bucky itâll be alright.
Bucky gets on the bus out of there that day. On to his new assignment. Golden student Gale Cleven flunks an electrical systems exam the next week, and âgets lostâ on a cross country also.
John has his suspicions. He finally gets it out of Buck, in a word or two admission, months later, that it was on purpose.
Iâm only writing this letter because we both know Mama wonât, sheâs too prideful for that right now. The last two deposits from Adam have been less and less, Iâm not sure whatâs happening. Maybe he needs more money lately for whatever it is that you boys need, but Iâve been struggling to make ends come together. Rosa has had four ear infections as the weather has gotten colder, and between the clinic charges and the medicine, weâre dipping into the little surplus we did have. I almost couldnât pay the lights last time. I donât want to take more from you but I donât know what else to do, Papito.
~~~
ao3 link
thank you to @steviewicks45 & @stars-remain2 for betaing this one and for loving me, I'm the lucky one to call you both my best friends đ
Taken from the stalag to a facility where a Nazi doctor is conducting experiments, John and Gale are drawn into a new type of horror. Amid the struggle to comprehend what is happening to them, they are left with only their bond and what little hope they can cling to...or to decide if the struggle for survival is too much to bear.
****
Bucky woke up with stiff limbs, an aching neck, and shivering from the cold air blowing through the cracks in the floor.Â
Gale was still asleep, pressed close, and the small furrow of distress in his brow even when unconscious made pain fill Buckyâs little chest again. He untangled their limbs carefully so as not to wake Buck, pressing a clumsy kiss to his forehead before scooting back, wincing at the fresh aching from his bruises.
Bennyâs hand still hung over the edge of the bunk and Bucky tugged at it, making Benny jolt and stick his groggy face down, messy hair going in every direction.Â
âYou guys awake?â he asked, rubbing his eyes.Â
âBuckâs still sleeping,â Bucky mumbled. His voice was hoarse and it hurt a little to speak.Â
Bennyâs face softened, and he reached out to swipe a knuckle over Buckyâs cheek. His jaw clenched when he brushed over a bruise, and he gently swiped Buckyâs loose curls back.
âCome on out. You should eat.â
It felt wrong to leave Buck alone under the bed, but his stomach twinged painfully and he shifted, looking at Buckâs still face once more before wiggling along the floor to get out. Surely a few minutes wouldnât hurt.
(full chapter on ao3)
Tagging some of my biggest supporters on this one XD @janefoxytale @peageetibbs-ab @stars-remain2 @heretoobsessstuff I know thereâs more but yâall have been vocal lol â¤ď¸
As the horizon swallows the daylight earlier with each passing evening, the days feel less like a linear progression and more like a closing net. It reminds Gale of the time he spent at Kearney Fieldâlistening to the radio delivering news of an expanding front, falling asleep with the dread of a deployment date he knew was coming but couldn't yet see. He knows no better now, only that his time is running out, regardless of his plans.Â
He still hasn't told John. Confession has shifted from a matter of willingness to one of sheer capability, and the stakes of breaking silence only climb higher by the day. Gale finds himself unable to brace for the reaction of John, whoâs been content and settled into this life theyâve built. To John, it could be a disappointment or an ambush like it is to Gale. Or, perhaps more unnervingly, the opposite. Either thought makes it all but impossible for Gale to keep down anything he consumes.Â
By practice, he has learned to cover his tracks, rendering his inner turmoil invisible. John, accustomed to Galeâs inclination toward keeping his own counsel, mistakes it for his old reticence. Gale watches the erosion of the calendar with a growing numbness. It holds until one morning, just before heading to work, John looks up at the ceiling and mentions the leak in the roof.Â
âNoticed it last night when it rained,â he says, gulping down his coffee before standing. âProbably just some loose shingles. We should get to it this weekend, but if it rains again before thenââ
âI'll take care of it,â Gale says without really thinking.
John grimaces. âI only told you because I knew youâd try to climb up there yourself, you dodo.â He carries his dishes to the sink, speaking over his shoulder. âItâs a two-man job, Buck. Let it wait.â
âSure,â Gale offers, providing the answer he knows will satisfy him. John grins, apparently convinced. âGood. Iâm runninâ late.â
His parting touch lingers. His hand cupping the nape of Gale's neck, his thumb brushing over the spot where the claiming bite has long since faded into a scar. Gale swallows, just to test the phantom of collar tightening around his throat, forged as much by his own surrender as by Johnâs affection.
By midday, it rains.
Small puddles start to bloom near the fireplace. Gale stays curled in the armchair; lunch is a chore he doesnât have to perform while John is gone, and itâs easier to simply endure the hunger. He listens to the rhythmic, soft noise and expects it to lull him into a nap, but the rain is too cold and insistent. It carries the sharp, licorice scent of rotting leaves, a smell that drags the ghost of his fatherâs house into the room. His old man wouldâve been barking orders by now, hungover and agitated by the slightest sound, even the plink of raindrops. Gale wonders what the man would say in a few months, when it becomes impossible to look at Gale and overlook his designation. He wonders about his mother, too, though he canât recall much of her. Strangely, what he remembers most is the low tune she used to sing while she bathed him. Lately, he drifts back to those childhood fragments more often than he cares to. An irony that he finds kinship in a memory after all this time only for it to become a prophecy.Â
The rain downgrades to a persistent drizzle after a couple hours. Gale gathers the tools and drags the ladder from the side of the house to the front. The roofline cuts the blue sky like a dagger. Feels like the high ground he used to commandâa time of clear missions and an unshakable sense of self. He steps onto the ladder, testing his grip on the rung. Itâs wet, treacherous, but manageable. Or it should be. The task turns into an ordeal the moment dizziness factors in, making the ground below tilt and swim. His palms are slick with sweat despite the bite of the cool air, his pulse drumming in his ears.
He keeps climbing. Rung by rung, he forces his limbs upward. The lightâs not entirely gone when he reaches the top, hauling himself over the edge onto the sloped roof. The wind hits him immediately, cutting through his thin shirt. It clears the fog of nausea, shocking his system into clarity.Â
Catching his breath, he looks down at the property spread out below. The yard is no longer the dilapidation heâd found in the summer. Heâd cleared the deadwood and the choking vines; the sumac along the fence line has bled into a deep sienna, and the marigolds heâd put in by the porch are shocks of ochre against the darkening soil. Heâd never had so much time for himself, so heâd put it into good use. It had felt right, bringing something back to life instead of dropping hell onto a landscape he could never see clearly from the clouds. Heâd thought he didnât miss the latter a bit, but when he leans forward to reach for the loose shingles, he feels heavy in a familiar way like the sluggish pull of a fort lifting off. The thing in his body shouldnât weigh enough to shift his center of gravity, yet he feels unbalanced, loaded like carrying a live bomb in the bay, and he sees the scorched earth waiting for the moment he has to salvo it.
He stills on the roof, caught between decisions while feeling as though he has none left to make.Â
Never in his life has he been this indecisive. Not during the chaos of the war, not even when he walked away from Marge to come here. The only moment that came close was the night before they left Kelly Field, when John had asked for his permission to court him. It feels like a lifetime ago, John being nervous, hopeful, yet simmering with a restless energy, as if he were ready to give an argument and braced for a fight. As if he believed he had to convince Gale to desire him. But it was never a matter of Gale not wanting him. He had wanted John enough to look into those eyes and see the rest of his life laid out like a flight plan. They were both newly promoted officers, and Gale had never felt bigger, more capable, than he did in that uniform. Yet even then, he knew if he allowed John to take his hand, he would eventually lose everything else just to be the one thing that belonged to him. He couldnât give it a chance.
All the effort had been for nothing. The distance heâd maintained to preserve his own sovereignty is forfeited. Standing on the precipice of a future he didnât choose, heâs trapped on a path he crystallized himself.Â
Except there are other ways. He could speak to John, frankly and bravely, and declare that this was never the deal. He could pack a bag and vanish into the treeline, slipping away like his mother. He could reclaim the autonomy heâd possessed before John ever laid eyes on him. But even as these thoughts flicker to life, he knows he wonât follow through. He has already ceded too much ground, allowing John to carve a home into the marrow of his existence. To leave now wouldn't just be an escapeâit would be an amputation. To excise the life theyâve built would be to leave himself hollowed out, bleeding into the wild.
And Gale is no stranger to the wild. A few months of domestication haven't stripped that from him. The real consequence, heâs aware, would be the wreckage heâd leave behind for Johnâand he isn't certain he could live with it.
He pries up the sodden, rotting cedar thatâs stuck on the roof with the same violence he used to pull stumps in the prison camp. Another project to keep his body hard and ready in case a march is called. The thought humors him, dark and dry, as he hammers the new nails home. It takes longer than it should, his fingers stiff with cold, but he has always been good at tethering his hands to labor when his mind is occupied elsewhere.Â
By the time he lowers himself back to the ladder, the drizzle has tapered to almost nothing and the light has gone flat and grey. He is nearly at the bottomâclose enough to feel foolish for his cautionâwhen he looks down to gauge the distance to the ground.
Itâs a mistake. A brown-out leaves his head ringing, sending the world into a tailspin. The yard sways into a muddy blur. He reaches for the side rails, but his fingers find only empty air as the rung vanishes from beneath his shoes. There is a half-second of weightless lucidity where the sky and the ground swap places, a stall in mid-air.
Then the impact comes, fast and absolute.
Gale lands hard on his back in the wet grass, the ladder clattering down beside him. The dusky sky hangs above, indifferent. He tries to draw a breath, but his lungs wonât answer. The grey bleeds inward from the edges, narrowing to a single dim point, and the yard, the house, and the weight beneath his ribs all go quiet.
Completely overwhelmed to be included in this list with @steviewicks45 and with all of these incredible authors. Thank you SO much for this beautiful creation @buckpregnant! â¤ď¸đđĽ°đŤđŠâđ
