Ken squirms a little when Rosie touches his bare chest. "You chilly?" he asks.
"No," Rosie replies, laying his palms on Ken's skin as well. Ken squirms again. "Is this all right?" Rosie asks, suddenly afraid he's doing something wrong even though he's touched Ken like this plenty with their clothes on.
Ken pulls Rosie's hands to his mouth and breathes on them. "You're cold," he says into the little cave of Rosie's palms.
"Sorry," Rosie says and presses his palms to Ken's face and then pulls him in for a kiss. "Happens when I'm nervous," he says.
"Nervous?" Ken asks, reaching for Rosie's belt and slipping the tongue free from the loops. "Why?"
Rosie nuzzles Ken's cheek and lifts his hips when Ken pulls his trousers open and tugs downward. "We've never—" He gasps when Ken presses a palm to his dick through his underwear. He can feel the edge of the calluses catching even through the fabric. He loves Ken's calluses, the drag and rough of them on his neck and cheeks and against his own palms. They've never had the chance to touch each other anywhere else, not until tonight and a set of 24-hour passes that Jack somehow managed to get them. "I don't want to be bad at this with you," he says when Ken lifts his hand so he can finish stripping Rosie.
Ken scoffs and stands up to finishing stripping himself. He climbs directly into Rosie's lap like he's done it a hundred times. He rolls his hips, his dick bumping Rosie's stomach. He reaches between them and takes them both in hand. "Impossible," he says.
Rosie has to squeeze his eyes shut and focus on breathing. Ken's chest is warm and firm against his own. His hand is strong, the calluses even more of a distraction than before. His mouth is pressed to Rosie's cheek and leaving a damp spot, and Rosie can't think of anything but that they've never been able to touch like this. Not in all these months.
"Oh," Rosie breathes. "Oh, Kenny. Oh."
"Think about this all the time," Ken murmurs against Rosie's cheek. "Been wondering what you'd sound like for a long time."
Rosie groans, and he manages to get his hands on Ken's ribs again, grabs tight and rocks up into Ken's hand. He manages to open his eyes, and all he can see are Ken's curls at the edge of his ear, and he noses over Ken's cheek and nips the lobe. Ken's hips snap, and Rosie sucks lightly. Ken breathes out hard, and his rhythm falters, fingers tightening against them both.
"Thought about this, too," Rosie says. "I was worried—" Ken kisses the rest of the sentence from his mouth, the desperate press of his mouth to Rosie's telling Rosie that Ken's thought it, too. That they might not have ever had this at all.
Ken kisses him deep and slow, and Rosie wraps his arms tight around Ken's waist as they rock and gasp and kiss and kiss. Ken comes first and smears his come over the head of Rosie's cock, mixing it with Rosie's precum and making Rosie's whole body go sharp and sparking with need.
He shakes all over as Ken drags his mouth up his neck and digs the fingers of his free hand into Rosie's bicep. Rosie can barely breathe as his orgasm rolls up and up and up. He manages to bury his face into Ken's curls as he comes, groaning loudly and tasting the sweat on Ken's scalp when he opens his mouth to gasp for air.
Ken slumps against him, and Rosie lets himself tumble back on the bed, shifting so Ken will slide to one side and be able to lie next to him. Or, half on him, it turns out. Rosie lifts Ken's hand and tucks it into his own, then rests their joined hands on his chest. Ken rubs his cheek on Rosie's shoulder and wriggles even closer, slipping his leg over Rosie's and using it to pull Rosie in good and tight.
"I'm not going anywhere," Rosie murmurs, half-asleep.
"Just wanna be sure," Ken replies, tone light and teasing, but the kiss on Rosie's collarbone feels important. Like Ken's trying to leave an impression. Just in case. Just in case they don't get to do this again.
"I love you," Rosie says. He's said it before. It won't be any sort of shock. But he needs to say it again. Now. In this singular moment. They won't ever have their first time together again.
"I love you," Ken replies, having said it before as well, but he sounds as serious as Rosie. He understands, too.
After the war, Rosie thinks but doesn't say. Neither of them have ever said it, though they've both stopped themself a few times. The words roll through Rosie's head, and he lets them. Let's himself feel the hope of them as he holds Kenny close after sex for the very first time. On their very first leave. In what he hopes with his whole heart is their only war.
"I love you," he says again because there are no other words.
would you consider writing and/or sharing your thoughts on Rosie worshiping the FUCK out of Ken’s very sensitive thighs. Licking, biting, kissing, sucking, beard burn from his stubble/stache.
May I offer you some smut in this trying time?
Rosie stands at the end of the hotel bed and just stares for a long moment. Ken wriggles under his gaze, then makes an impatient sound.
"72 hours ain't as long as you think," he says.
Rosie chuckles and leans down, lifting Ken's leg to kiss his ankle. Ken hooks his other leg on Rosie's hip and tugs, but Rosie knows that move and doesn't budge. "Let me take my time," he says, mouth still against Ken's skin. "72 hours can be very long if you do it right."
Ken squirms reaches down, fingers just managing to grab Rosie's shoulder. "At least kiss me before you drive me crazy."
"You're already crazy," Rosie says, but he slides upwards, their bellies and chest pressing together as he meets Ken's mouth with his own. Ken holds his head in both hands and kisses him slowly, tongue rubbing the top of his mouth and breeath ragged almost immediately.
Rosie breathes out a moan and grabs Ken's waist, kneading lightly as Ken keeps control of the kiss. They don't get the chance to kiss like this often. They don't get the chance to do much often. But every now and again, everything aligns, and they get a night or two alone. Three whole days is a particular stroke of luck.
Ken pulls away and massages his fingers into Rosie's neck. "Okay," he says. "As you were."
Rosie brushes their noses together, then slidees back down to where he was, dragging his hands over the top of Ken's thighs as he goes. Ken twitches, and Rosie can't help but smile when he kisses his knee.
"You're obsesseed," Ken says, but he opens his legs the moment presses the inside of his knee with his thumb.
"You're beautiful," Rosie replies, rubbing his thumb in that same spot. "The way you can't stop yourself making noises when I—" He leans in and kisses Ken's inner thigh, just an inch abovee his knee. Ken gasps. "And when I—" He nips lightly behind Ken's knee. Ken shivers and lets out a small win. "And of course—" he drags the rough stubble of his cheek up the whole expanse of Ken's inner thigh, taking a moment to suck at the spot where his thigh meets his groin.
"Oh!" Ken shouts, then slaps a hand over his mouth. A muffled, loud sound slips past his fingers when Rosie bites the spot he just sucked.
Rosie hums and turns to the other thigh. He lifts Ken's leg with a hand behind his knee, and leaves a trail of open-mouthed kisses from his groin to his ankle and back again.
"Rosie," Ken whimpers. He makes a strangled noise when Rosie bites down, then sucks hard for svreal seconds. He'll feel that for days, Ken thinks. Every time he shifts, his coveralls will brush against it. His hips jerk at the thought. Rosie rides the wave of his body like they have time for sex all the time. He doesn't stop sucking that spot. And he digs his fingers into Ken's other thigh, kneading hard.
"Oh. Oh, fuck," Ken says.
Rosie doesn't even glance at the hickey he's left. He rubs his cheek against it to make Ken shake, then he takes a moment to nuzzle his balls before pushing Ken's other leg out so he can nibble up and down the length of his thigh.
Ken makes a low, keening noise, and his dick twitches hard. He reaches down and jerks himself as Rosie presses and presses and presses his fingers right into th meeat of Ken's inner thigh. The first time he'd bruised Ken had been an accident, and he'd tried to apologize. Ken had told him he'd rather him kiss it better, and now Rosie does it all at the same time, pressing with his fingers and kissing over them. Lifting his hand to suck on each little red spot. Ken manages to get a hand in his hair and his legs wrapped around Rosi'se head and holds him in place as he jerks off and tries to get Rosie to put even more pressure on those spots.
Rosie breathes in hard through his nose and manages to shift under the lock of Ken's legs, getting his mouth wrapped around the head of Ken's cock, drooling down his shaft and onto Ken's hand. He gets a hand around himself and jerks off to Ken's rhythm. He splays his free hand over Ken's belly, and Ken grabs his wrist like he thinks Rosie might try to escape.
They come in a mess. Rosie shouts around Ken's dick, and Ken groans and spunks in his mouth. Rosie swallows twice, then pulls off, a bit of come dribbling down Ken's dick as Rosie presses his cheek to Ken's leg and pants hard.
Ken pets Rosie's hair and absently strokes himself a couple more times. He shifts his legs and feels the wet spot where Rosie's come, and as his heart slows down, he feels the extra spark of the bruises and hickies Rosie's left on his skin.
Rosie's breathing settles, and he pulls himself up so they're face-to-face. He reaches down and slides his fingers down Ken's hip and the outside of his thigh. "Does it meet your approval?" he asks, leaning in to kiss Ken's neck.
Ken throws an arm around Rosie's waist and pulls him as close as he can. "Not bad for a first try," he says. "But we've got 72 hours."
Rosie laughs and squeezes Ken's ass. "A whole 72 hoours," he agrees.
Kenny wakes up sometime in the wee hours. He glances at the clock, able to read it in the light slipping in around the curtains. New York's got lights on all day and night, just like Kenny'd always heard. He likes it especially on nights like this, when he's woken up by his own dreams.
Rosie shifts, turning towards him. Kenny stares at the ceiling, waiting.
"You asleep?" Rosie murmurs, just loud enough to be heard.
"Yeah," Kenny says. He scrubs his palm against his hairline. There's dried sweat there. He can feel it on his arms and chest, too. "Was I yellin'?"
"Only a little," Rosie says and scoots closer. Ken makes room on his pillow and turns so he and Rosie are nose to nose. "Not as bad as usual."
Kenny huffs at that. Not quite a laugh, but as close as he can get at 2:43 in the morning with the dream still trailing after him. "It was the one with the kids," he says.
Rosie cups Kenny's cheek and presses down a little. "I thought maybe. You said Billy's name."
Kenny closes his eyes, but with his eyes closed, the dream comes roaring up. Billy and Sammy and the other kids standing in the fields and on the hardstands. Bombs falling. Kenny screaming. Planes falling out of the sky. When he opens his eyes, Rosie's right there, brow furrowed and hand warm and heavy on Kenny's cheek.
"Wanna get up?" Rosie asks. "We could go to the diner. Get an extra-early breakfast."
Kenny reaches up and grabs Rosie's wrist. He feels Rosie's pulse under his fingers. There's only one dream worse than the kids getting killed, and it's the one where Rosie's fort comes back, but he's not in it. Kenny can't have one dream without thinking about the other. He won't sleep again, and Rosie's offering him an easy out. "Come back when the sun's up and try again?" he offers.
Rosie nods and presses their foreheads together. "I like this plan," he says. "Let's do it."
They put on slacks and shirts and each grab their hats on their way out. Rosie brings a book. Kenny grabs a sketchpad. The diner's one of the lights that filter through their bedroom curtains. 24 hours and the coffee's kept fresh. They've taken turns suggesting it to each other since the war ended. Kenny's not the only one with nightmares.
Virginia's working. She brings them coffee and creamer without being asked. At the kitchen window, her husband, Frank, waves to them. They wave back. They used to work opposite shifts, Ken knows because Virginia's the type to share. But then Frank came back from the war and didn't sleep right all alone at night, so he'd taken the cook position so he and Virginia could sleep on the same schedule. She'd always been a night owl and was happy to live in a city that made it easier to be up late.
Kenny adds sugar to his coffee. Rosie drinks his black. They sit across from each other and don't say much. There isn't much to say on nights when they need the diner to keep the nightmares back. But under the table, their legs are touching, and out the window a few cars go by, and Kenny has to agree with Virginia. It is nice to be someplace where you can be up late.
RosieLemmons for Crubblessnowglobe (All Ages; 2500 words)
The request was "celebrating 25," and I decided to put the angst at the front this time! @crubblessnowglobe, hope you enjoy!
When Rosie doesn't come back from Berlin, Ken has to run off the hardstand and vomit. He ends up on his hands and knees, the ground cold and hard. He squeezes his eyes shut and coughs once, then again, trying desparately to control the impulse to burst into a sob. He pushes himself up onto his knees and opens his eyes, staring at the horizon. Not the one Rosie was supposed to come back over, but the one he flew towards when he left.
Ken wipes his sleeve across his mouth, then spits. He stands and turns around, and there's Colonel Kidd with a canteen in one hand and a flask in the other.
"Dealer's choice," he says.
Ken takes the water, sloshes it, then spits again. Then, he takes the flask and takes a steady drink.
"Need your assessments," Kidd says. "We need to fly again tomorrow."
"Could he—" Ken cuts off his own question and shakes his head. He hands the flask back to Kidd and glances towards the hardstand. "Should have it done quick as usual," he says.
"I'm sorry," Kidd murmurs as Ken walks past him.
Ken pretends not to hear, like he pretends not to think his question over and over as he joins the rest of the crew and starts assessing damage. Could Rosie have survived?
*
Crosby finds him in the crew chief office later. He's got a sandwich on a tray. He puts it on the edge of Ken's desk and putters for a moment, straightening Ken's nameplate and rubbing his thumb on a little streak of grease on a corner of the desk itself. "We're—we're looking for him," he says.
Ken signs his name on a report and picks up the sandwich. Turkey with a slice of cheese and a lettuce leaf. "Okay," he says.
Crosby puts his hands in his pockets, then takes them out. "He could—" He clears his throat. "I'll let you know," he says.
"Thank you," Ken says, though he doesn't know if he means it for the sandwich or not finishing his sentence. Ken thinks of Lieutenant Payne's big, sunshine smile and the way Crosby had looked like his soul had left him for weeks afterwards. He wonders if he looks like that now.
*
Ken works because he has to work. Because the boys have to go up. Because they have to keep fighting. Winks leaves him alone when they're working but won't leave his side when they're not.
"I'm not gonna snap," Ken says one evening as Winks stands by Ken's bed and waits for him to put on his boots so they can go to the Enlisted Club.
Winks lost two baby sisters in the Depression, and he's the only brother left still in the war. All the rest were infantry. There's three more siblings at home, Ken knows. A sister and two more brothers, none of them old enough to sign up, not even close. It's the only reason Winks is still here to bully him out of his bed and keep him moving when he doesn't have work in front of him. He's told Ken once that if he was the last one left, he'd apply to go home even though he's about as safe as you can be in a war. "But the little ones keep 'em busy," he'd said. "So, I'm staying put."
Ken wonders how Winks gets up every day with so much grief on his back. How he could choose to stay so far away with what's left of his family all the way back in the States. He lets Winks drag him by the air to the Enlisted Club and tries to have a decent time.
*
Crosby and Kidd find him at a propeller station, the whole thing half undone and scattered on the cloth he's laid out.
"Lemmons," Kidd says and gestures. Crosby looks like he might be sick.
They've found him, Ken thinks. He puts down his wrench and wipes his hands and walks over. "Sirs?"
"The Russians found him," Crosby blurts. "He's got a broken arm, but he's with them. They're going to point him this way, but they need to get to Moscow first."
Ken can't feel his body for a moment. "What?" he asks.
"Rosie's alive," Kidd says. "And mostly well."
Ken blinks. He can feel his pulse hammering in his neck. "I don't—How?"
Kidd looks bemused. "Luck," he says. "It was on his side."
"Here," Crosby says and pushes a notepad and pen against Ken's chest. "We got permission—well, the Colonel got permission from the Colonel to let you slip in a note."
"No identifying details," Jack says. "Don't sign your name."
"Okay," Ken says. He manages to take the notepad and pen from Crosby. He stares at the blank page for a long moment, then takes the cap off the pen and writes a single sentence.
Come back here already.
He hands the notepad and pen back to Crosby, who reads it and smiles the tiniest bit. "I like it," Crosby says.
"Another thing," Kidd says. "The brass have decided Rosie's done enough. He'll be grounded when he gets back."
Ken jerks in surprise. "What?" he says. "He won't agree to that."
"He will, actually," Kidd replies, and there's a look in his eyes Ken remembers from the early days of them all being in England. When Kidd was still just a pilot and not having to decide who had few enough holes in their fort to go up again. Mischeivious his mother would call it. Ken remembers catching sight of it when Kidd came back from sorties, Blakely teasing him loudly about something, and Kidd playing along. He wonders if any of the newer pilots would believe him if he told them Colonel Kidd used to have a sense of humor.
"Do you need my help, Sir?" Ken asks.
"Not just yet," Kidd says. "But I'll tell you when I need you."
"Yes, Sir."
"And keep this news under your hat. We'll announce it base-wide in a day or so. As you were," Kidd says, and he snorts when Ken salutes but returns it. It's not something anyone does much anymore, saluting, none of them who have been in this together for awhile, anyway. But it's the only way Ken can show how much he appreciates whatever Kidd has planned and letting Crosby tell him Rosie's okay.
Rosie's okay.
Ken manages to stay on his feet until he gets to the propeller stand, then lets it take his weight. He wishes he could run to Winks and tell him the good news, but he can't. That's okay. He can feel it in his chest. Rosie's okay.
*
It takes five weeks, but every day Crosby gives Ken whatever update he has, and every day, he can tell Winks what he's been told, and every day, there are more sorties and more repairs, but there's also rumors. The Germans are deserting, threats of death nothing compared to the continued attacks of a better-trained and better-fed military on all sides.
Ken doesn't see Kidd except at a distance. He doesn't chase him down. Kidd will find him when it's his turn to help with whatever plan he's cracked to keep Rosie from going back up. Ken's stomach twists when he wonders if Rosie will be mad they're keeping him on the ground. The job's not done. And Ken can understand the duty that made him go up for another 25. It's the same duty that made Rosie tell him how he felt after he'd re-upped, confessed a crush Ken never would have imagined was there.
"I can't let another mother's son go up for me when I'm able," Rosie had said, "And I promised myself I'd tell you after I was done, but then I re-upped, so the only fair thing was to tell you now before I started another round."
And Ken had stared and blinked and said, "I need a sweetheart picture," without thinking, and Rosie's great, wide grin had made Ken realize maybe he was already a little in love.
*
Kidd finds him the day before Rosie's due back. "We're throwing him a 25 party," he says. "We're going to say it's a welcome back, but it's not. I need you to keep him away from the O-Club while we decorate, and I need you not to tell him what it really is."
"I can do both, Sir," Ken says. "But—permission to speak freely?"
Kidd actually cracks a whole smile. "Go ahead."
"What's the trick to keep him on the ground?"
Kidd taps the left side of his chest, and Ken realizes his jacket is sticking out a bit on that side. "I asked some fellas to donate a few sorties," he says. "They won't need them."
Ken doesn't understand. "Sir?" There's still a war on. Who on bases has sorties to— "Oh," Ken says. "I see."
The mischeif is back in Kidd's eyes. He looks very pleased with himself. "Think it'll work?" he asks.
Ken laughs. "Might be the only thing that does," he says.
Kidd nods and his grin widens for a moment. "Back to it, Lemmons," he says. "I need you clear of work before the party."
"Yes, Sir."
*
There's no mistaking when Rosie's back on base. A Jeep rattles by the hardstands, then cuts sharp next to Ken. Rosie jumps out of the Jeep, pressed and polished from tip to toe. He looks at Ken with a little apprehension and tears in his eyes. "Sorry it took so long," he says. "Russia's big."
Ken stares at him. "I can't hug you; I'm all covered in grease."
Rosie chuckles and steps in close. He reaches into a pocket and hands Ken a worn piece of notepad paper. "Hold onto that for me," he says. "I'll swing by after interrogation."
Ken nods, and he and Rosie smile at each other for a moment before Rosie climbs back into the Jeep and lets the driver finish taking him to interrogation.
Ken looks at the piece of paper in his hand. He knows what it is, but he opens it anyway. There's his own handwriting:
Come back here already.
And under it, a list of dates and coordinates and miles. Rosie counting his way back to base.
Ken folds the paper over again, then carefully tucks it into his shirt pocket under his coveralls where it won't get marked up. He gets back to work, only having to stop once to wipe his eyes, then having to stop again when Winks runs up and gives him a hug that lifts him off his feet.
"Congratulations!" Winks says.
"Thanks, Winks," Ken replies and means it to his core. "You didn't hear it from me, but they'll be a party tomorrow to celebrate. Colonel Kidd's gonna announce it tonight."
Winks laughs and puts Ken's back on his feet. "Didn't hear a thing," he says. "But thanks for telling me."
"Sure," Ken says, and Winks jogs back to his own hardstand, whistling and acting like his own sweetheart's come back with the way happiness rolls off of him.
It's easy to keep Rosie busy the next day. Everyone on base wants to see him and shake his hand and welcome him back from the moment he wakes up. He takes it in good humor, though after a couple of hours, Ken surprises him with a Jeep and a drive. Rosie sighs deeply as he settles into the passenger seat and Ken gets them off base.
They're quiet until Ken turns into an open gate and bumps down a dirt path to the cow pond at the end. It's a common place to end up if you can get a Jeep and a date, but in the early afternoon, they're the only ones there. Ken turns off the engine and lays his arms on the steering wheel. He puts his cheek on his arms and looks at Rosie. Rosie's looking at him.
"I don't know exactly when I'm going back up," Rosie says. "I'm sorry I'm not done yet."
Ken reaches out and touches Rosie's knee. Rosie leans towards him. "I know you have to finish what you started," he says.
Rosie lifts Ken's hand and kisses the back of it. "War may be over before they can fit me on the roster," he offers.
Ken smiles and thinks about Kidd's plan. He hopes it works. "Maybe," he says, then leans in and kisses Rosie on the mouth.
*
"Twenty-five?" Rosie says when he walks into the O-Club, Ken at his side. They've been greeted with a murmur of cheer, but no boisterous noise. All eyes are on Kidd, who is standing in the middle of the room. Ken wonders what Kidd said before they walked in to keep everyone's excitement in check.
"You've flown more sorties than any man here," Kidd says, and Rosie stands a little straighter, arm going taut under Ken's hand. "And more than several gentlemen who won't need to finish their bit to go home. They just need the war to end."
Rosie looks around the room, confused. He glances at Ken, who gives him a small smile. "What is this?" he whispers to Ken.
"Ask the Colonel," Ken replies because this isn't his news to share.
Rosie looks at Kidd again. "What is this?" he asks.
Crosby steps forward, a letter in his hand. "Dear Crank, Do you have any sorties you'd like to donate to keep Rosenthal on the ground?"
"Two," Kidd says.
"Dear Solly, Rosenthal fell from the sky and bounced. He's on his way back to finish his second twenty-five. Got any sorties to donate to the cause?"
"Three," Kidd says. "And he says it's a mitzvah to give them."
"Dear Cleven."
"Four."
"Dear Egan."
"Everything I've got left if it gets him home. I don't care if I have to fly extra," Kidd says.
Crosby holds up a stack of envelopes tied with string. "And enough leftover from the other boys at the Stalags to get you through a third rotation with room to spare in case you want to argue you should be doing thirty."
Rosie makes a quiet, surprised noise. "Who—who's idea—"
"Colonel Kidd," Ken says at the same time Crosby says "Jack."
Rosie looks at Ken. "This wasn't you?"
"No," Ken says. "But I support it."
Rosie touches Ken's hand on his arm, then looks at Kidd and Crosby, then looks around the room. "Solly's right. It's a mitzvah. I accept."
The cheer Ken had been expecting when they'd walked in finally lets loose. It rattles his eardrums and makes his heart beat faster, and then the band strikes up and Rosie twirls Ken so they're nose to nose, and he steals a kiss.
"I'm sorry if I go stir-crazy, but I'll stay put," Rosie says. "I'm all yours."
It takes Ken a moment to answer. He thinks of those coordinates and dates and miles on the note he sent Rosie. "You already were," he says.
And Rosie beams and laughs and pulls Ken to the dance floor.
A thunderclap jerks Rosie from sleep. He shakes involuntarily for a moment, brain tripping over the sound that tells him to go find shelter. The Germans are bombing. He needs to get to shelter. But he's in shelter. In bed. Ken beside him, still snoring lightly.
Rosie sits up and looks towards the window. It's open to let in whatever breeze wants to slip by. It's only April, but it's already humid and hot in Arkansas during the day and not much better at night. He's still getting used to it.
Thunder shakes the house again, and Rosie starts counting under his breath. The lightning flashes four seconds later. Four miles, Rosie thinks.
There's a wet sound he's still learning, then again and again and again. Rain hitting the warm earth fast and hard. He gets out of bed and walks over to the window. He pops the screen and sets it on the floor, then pushes the window down. There's no wind yet, but there will be. The window makes a dull sound when it hits the frame.
"Robert?" Ken asks, and there's a shuffle on the bed.
"Storm," Rosie replies over his shoulder. "Just closing the window."
Ken makes an affirmative sound and gets out of bed. He always does, whether Rosie tells him to stay put or not. He comes up next to Rosie and squints out the window, looking at the sky. Rosie can just barely see it in the dark of their room, in the dark of this night with no streetlamps. He's still getting used to that, too.
"Ain't bad," Ken says, then yawns into his hand. "Just a cloudburst."
The thunder happens again, but it's a rumble, not a slamming cymbal. Rosie stares at the sky, waiting for the lightning. It flashes, but it doesn't drop down.
"Heat lightning," Rosie says.
"Yup," Ken agrees. He reaches for Rosie's hand and pulls. "Come on," he says.
They go down the hall and step on the porch, and Ken points towards the trees. "A little wind, but not too much," he says.
Rosie nods, memorizing the ways the trees move. Ken's been teaching him about the weather all spring. They're in tornado season, and Ken's made sure Rosie knows what to look for. If the trees are moving, they're safe.
"The thunder was louder before," Rosie says. "Woke me up."
"Storms do like to announce themselves," Ken says. "Even when they're really not much to look at."
Rosie looks around. The rain is still falling hard, and he can feel the cool mist of it against his skin. It'll take the heat out of the air, he realizes. They'll sleep easier once it passes.
Ken pulls Rosie close and curls his hand around the back of Rosie's neck. "Look at me," he says.
Rosie does. Heat lightning flashes again, no thunder to announce it. For a moment, he sees Ken's whole, wonderful face, lit up bright and beautiful. He thinks, as he does when the war sneaks up on him like it does sometimes, how he almost didn't get to have this. How close he came over and over, to disappearing into a wild, roaring noise like a never-ending thunderclap.
"Sing me something," Ken says. "Be here with me."
Rosie stares at him for a long moment, wishing he could thank Ken for the way he takes care of him. Knowing when to distract, when to teach, when to pull his attention from wherever he goes in his mind. He thinks he's luckier than he ever was in the war, to be here with Ken right now. To have Ken to hold onto.
Rosie tucks his hand at Ken's waist, and they sway together. The rain keeps falling hard and cool. Rosie murmurs the lyrics to 'Five More Minutes' as Ken turns them in a circle and hums along. The rain keeps falling.
Okay, I have all the RosieLemmons prompts in one file and ready to write. Hoping to have a lot of fun knocking them out over the next couple of weeks. I am going to try and take a break from stitching but also not just replace all that time with writing because I really, really need my hands to get some amount of rest.
Bucky realizing he's in love with Buck just before he goes to Greenland. Buck realizing the same in the air, on his first mission.
Crosby realizing he is in love with Bubbles as they're huddled over that toilet, spewing their guts out after that quarter and boots game. Bubbles realizing at the same time.
Rosie realizes he's in love with Ken when he lands after his first mission, seeing the concern and worry on his face. Ken realizes when none of the planes come back, then the guilty joy he feels when Rosie's plane is the only one to return.
Quinn realizes (almost regrettably) he's in love with Bailey when Bailey tosses the entire salt shaker over his shoulder. Bailey realizes after he evacuates, after he sees the plane explode, and in the days until he sees Quinn again, worries/fears he's the only one who survived.
Curt and Dickie realize together, when it's to late to do anything about it.
