Title: Victory Day prt. 2, Rating: R, Pairing: Bleighton
December 31st, 1944.
“Hey Lei, turn on the radio,” Taylor requests.
It’s quiet in the bar tonight. Most of the servicemen have substituted the bar scene for fireworks displays elsewhere in the city, and the servicemen who are here are more interested in drinking than being entertained so it’s practically like a night off for Leighton.
Reaching forward, she pushes a button on the radio, twisting the large knob until the soft buzzing sound has been replaced with the melodious drone of Kristen Bell, the war’s leading radio broadcaster. She’s talking about Hungary, another country drawn into the war, and suddenly Leighton has lost all interest in the radio so instead she hums to herself.
Colonel Lively hasn’t retuned since their short encounter on Christmas Eve and Leighton thinks it’s for the best, although she hopes that his not returning has to do with something like being served bad beer as opposed to something disastrous. She’s not sure why she cares so much, she sees men come and go all the time, but she supposes it’s because he seemed such a gentlemen and enough of those have been lost in the war.
“I believe I was promised Jingle Bells,”
Speak of the devil... Leighton is not entirely sure how he was able to sneak up behind her unnoticed or how she’s able to distinguish his voice after one conversation but she knows it’s him.
“I believe a German soldier was promised Jingle Bells,” Leighton corrects, not even turning to look at the man behind her. “By you,” she adds.
He laughs. It’s a pleasant sound and Leighton finds herself smiling.
“Oh well. May I request a song then?”
“Christmas has passed so Christmas carols are strictly forbidden.” She jokes as he moves to sit next to her. She can’t help but watch his movement closely. Even as he sits, there is a type of elegance in his movement that Leighton just can’t place.
“Hmmm… Perhaps Auld Lang Syne then?” He asks.
“With no band?”
Lively looks towards the stage which is void of the usual band. He sighs almost resignedly and for a second Leighton thinks he’s going to give up and that almost disappoints her.
“May I request your presence then?”
Leighton raises an eyebrow.
“You’re in my presence Colonel,” She reminds him, biting back a smirk.
“For a walk,” He clarifies, smiling brightly. “Outside,” he adds, before she can decline.
He is persistent, Leighton will give him that, and there’s something about his smile that almost makes her forget her plan which is A.) Rebuff him B.) Rebuff him… Z.) Rebuff him…
Almost! It will take more than a dazzling smile and persistence, much more… Ok, not much more. Maybe alluring blue eyes and gentlemanly charm would do the trick…
No, no, no, Leighton mentally chastises herself. She barely knows this man, in fact, she really doesn’t know him at all, so there is absolutely no reason she should have trouble rejecting his offer.
“I’m working,” She says, and it’s not a lie per se… she is, after all, supposed to be working and so, maybe the rest of the band had taken off but that didn’t mean she had to follow suit.
“You know Leighton, if you want to take a break, Taylor and I are perfectly capable here,”
Leighton shoots a glare at Jessica who is grinning a Cheshire like grin. Taylor is standing next to her with a similar expression and Leighton’s not sure which one of them she wants to kill first, but they are definitely both dead!
Blake doesn’t say a word, only stands, extending an arm for the brunette and Leighton takes it, sighing as he leads her out into the night.
---
By the time Leighton returns, it’s so late that Jessica has already locked up so she goes straight to her apartment where Taylor is already sleeping, but not for long…
“Did you have fun??” Taylor asks groggily, sitting up in the couch as Leighton enters the room.
Leighton nods. She did indeed have fun. She and Colonel Lively had walked and talked, and had enjoyed the festivities and fireworks displays once midnight had struck. She had also learned a lot about Colonel Lively (or Blake, as he had asked her to refer to him as because Colonel Lively is “far too formal”). She learned that he is also from California, that both his parents and his four siblings are also in the military, that he pilots an P-47 Thunderbolt, that his favorite music is jazz and the blues, that he had wanted to fly since he had learned how to walk; she even learned what most, if not all, of his ribbons were for. Likewise, he had learned a lot about her, more than she had even wanted to divulge really, but he had given her that smile and she had openly spoke of her parents and their criminal background, of Seb, of her yearning to go to South America and he had listened and added valuable input and had even kept his eyes cast upward -at least for most of the night -even though she was wearing one of her many “work dresses” which are as much for “entertainment” as her singing is.
“Are you going to see him again?” Taylor asks curiously.
“I don’t know,” Leighton answers and honestly, she doesn’t. They hadn’t discussed further meeting but she has a feeling that Colonel Lively can soon be added to her list of “regulars” at the bar.
***
February 1st, 1945
Headline: Ecuador declares war on Germany!
“Goddamn it,” Leighton murmurs to herself, folding up the paper and tucking it in its usual place in her jacket pocket. She feels a hand splay against the smalls of her back and doesn’t even have to turn around to know it’s him.
Colonel Lively has stopped by the bar every night since New Years Eve. Sometimes he comes alone, sometimes with a group, most of the time with MSG Badgley, who often shoots Leighton these looks that she’s not quite fond of but she ignores him because, “he’s grumpy sometimes,” as Blake had said, either way, she’s used to being snuck up on like this, so much so that she no longer even flinches.
Most of the time when he comes, she’s greeted similarly to this although there are times, generally if he comes in while she’s singing, he’ll sit and not say a word, waiting for her to greet him and she’ll entertain the idea of not greeting him at all, of possibly reversing any signs of attachment before she’s so affixed to him that detachment is painful, but then he’ll smile at her and she’ll find herself moving towards him, smiling also, and he’ll request her “presence” as he always does and they’ll go walking, his Eisenhower jacket resting firmly on her shoulders, until obscene hours of the night. It’s practically routine now.
“You’ve read the paper?” He asks, softly.
She nods her affirmation.
“This doesn’t mean South America is unattainable,” His voice is smooth, reassuring.
Leighton smiles weakly.
“No, it just means it’s now undesirable,” she says sadly.
Blake silently urges her to turn around and when she finally does, she’s regarded with gentle blue eyes. He runs the pad of his thumb across her cheek and for a moment, Leighton’s positive he’s going to kiss her; instead, he uses the hand still splayed across her back to bring her forward until she’s wrapped in a strong embrace, his hand running soothingly over her back.
Leighton’s not entirely sure why, but she can feel her eyes stinging with tears. She’s determined not to cry, not over something as stupid as this. It’s not even like South America was a sure thing; it was just a dream, a delusion, one over which she will absolutely not cry!
“Sshh, just let it go,” Blake murmurs against her ear.
And she does. She lets her tears flow freely, mourning her lost dream as Colonel Lively appeases the dull ache with gentle words and soothing caresses.
It suddenly occurs to Leighton that this is the first time they have broken their routine and it’s probably the last time she’ll entertain thoughts of ignoring the fair-haired officer because it’s obvious that detachment is now practically impossible.
[part 3]
“Hey Lei, turn on the radio,” Taylor requests.
It’s quiet in the bar tonight. Most of the servicemen have substituted the bar scene for fireworks displays elsewhere in the city, and the servicemen who are here are more interested in drinking than being entertained so it’s practically like a night off for Leighton.
Reaching forward, she pushes a button on the radio, twisting the large knob until the soft buzzing sound has been replaced with the melodious drone of Kristen Bell, the war’s leading radio broadcaster. She’s talking about Hungary, another country drawn into the war, and suddenly Leighton has lost all interest in the radio so instead she hums to herself.
Colonel Lively hasn’t retuned since their short encounter on Christmas Eve and Leighton thinks it’s for the best, although she hopes that his not returning has to do with something like being served bad beer as opposed to something disastrous. She’s not sure why she cares so much, she sees men come and go all the time, but she supposes it’s because he seemed such a gentlemen and enough of those have been lost in the war.
“I believe I was promised Jingle Bells,”
Speak of the devil... Leighton is not entirely sure how he was able to sneak up behind her unnoticed or how she’s able to distinguish his voice after one conversation but she knows it’s him.
“I believe a German soldier was promised Jingle Bells,” Leighton corrects, not even turning to look at the man behind her. “By you,” she adds.
He laughs. It’s a pleasant sound and Leighton finds herself smiling.
“Oh well. May I request a song then?”
“Christmas has passed so Christmas carols are strictly forbidden.” She jokes as he moves to sit next to her. She can’t help but watch his movement closely. Even as he sits, there is a type of elegance in his movement that Leighton just can’t place.
“Hmmm… Perhaps Auld Lang Syne then?” He asks.
“With no band?”
Lively looks towards the stage which is void of the usual band. He sighs almost resignedly and for a second Leighton thinks he’s going to give up and that almost disappoints her.
“May I request your presence then?”
Leighton raises an eyebrow.
“You’re in my presence Colonel,” She reminds him, biting back a smirk.
“For a walk,” He clarifies, smiling brightly. “Outside,” he adds, before she can decline.
He is persistent, Leighton will give him that, and there’s something about his smile that almost makes her forget her plan which is A.) Rebuff him B.) Rebuff him… Z.) Rebuff him…
Almost! It will take more than a dazzling smile and persistence, much more… Ok, not much more. Maybe alluring blue eyes and gentlemanly charm would do the trick…
No, no, no, Leighton mentally chastises herself. She barely knows this man, in fact, she really doesn’t know him at all, so there is absolutely no reason she should have trouble rejecting his offer.
“I’m working,” She says, and it’s not a lie per se… she is, after all, supposed to be working and so, maybe the rest of the band had taken off but that didn’t mean she had to follow suit.
“You know Leighton, if you want to take a break, Taylor and I are perfectly capable here,”
Leighton shoots a glare at Jessica who is grinning a Cheshire like grin. Taylor is standing next to her with a similar expression and Leighton’s not sure which one of them she wants to kill first, but they are definitely both dead!
Blake doesn’t say a word, only stands, extending an arm for the brunette and Leighton takes it, sighing as he leads her out into the night.
---
By the time Leighton returns, it’s so late that Jessica has already locked up so she goes straight to her apartment where Taylor is already sleeping, but not for long…
“Did you have fun??” Taylor asks groggily, sitting up in the couch as Leighton enters the room.
Leighton nods. She did indeed have fun. She and Colonel Lively had walked and talked, and had enjoyed the festivities and fireworks displays once midnight had struck. She had also learned a lot about Colonel Lively (or Blake, as he had asked her to refer to him as because Colonel Lively is “far too formal”). She learned that he is also from California, that both his parents and his four siblings are also in the military, that he pilots an P-47 Thunderbolt, that his favorite music is jazz and the blues, that he had wanted to fly since he had learned how to walk; she even learned what most, if not all, of his ribbons were for. Likewise, he had learned a lot about her, more than she had even wanted to divulge really, but he had given her that smile and she had openly spoke of her parents and their criminal background, of Seb, of her yearning to go to South America and he had listened and added valuable input and had even kept his eyes cast upward -at least for most of the night -even though she was wearing one of her many “work dresses” which are as much for “entertainment” as her singing is.
“Are you going to see him again?” Taylor asks curiously.
“I don’t know,” Leighton answers and honestly, she doesn’t. They hadn’t discussed further meeting but she has a feeling that Colonel Lively can soon be added to her list of “regulars” at the bar.
***
February 1st, 1945
Headline: Ecuador declares war on Germany!
“Goddamn it,” Leighton murmurs to herself, folding up the paper and tucking it in its usual place in her jacket pocket. She feels a hand splay against the smalls of her back and doesn’t even have to turn around to know it’s him.
Colonel Lively has stopped by the bar every night since New Years Eve. Sometimes he comes alone, sometimes with a group, most of the time with MSG Badgley, who often shoots Leighton these looks that she’s not quite fond of but she ignores him because, “he’s grumpy sometimes,” as Blake had said, either way, she’s used to being snuck up on like this, so much so that she no longer even flinches.
Most of the time when he comes, she’s greeted similarly to this although there are times, generally if he comes in while she’s singing, he’ll sit and not say a word, waiting for her to greet him and she’ll entertain the idea of not greeting him at all, of possibly reversing any signs of attachment before she’s so affixed to him that detachment is painful, but then he’ll smile at her and she’ll find herself moving towards him, smiling also, and he’ll request her “presence” as he always does and they’ll go walking, his Eisenhower jacket resting firmly on her shoulders, until obscene hours of the night. It’s practically routine now.
“You’ve read the paper?” He asks, softly.
She nods her affirmation.
“This doesn’t mean South America is unattainable,” His voice is smooth, reassuring.
Leighton smiles weakly.
“No, it just means it’s now undesirable,” she says sadly.
Blake silently urges her to turn around and when she finally does, she’s regarded with gentle blue eyes. He runs the pad of his thumb across her cheek and for a moment, Leighton’s positive he’s going to kiss her; instead, he uses the hand still splayed across her back to bring her forward until she’s wrapped in a strong embrace, his hand running soothingly over her back.
Leighton’s not entirely sure why, but she can feel her eyes stinging with tears. She’s determined not to cry, not over something as stupid as this. It’s not even like South America was a sure thing; it was just a dream, a delusion, one over which she will absolutely not cry!
“Sshh, just let it go,” Blake murmurs against her ear.
And she does. She lets her tears flow freely, mourning her lost dream as Colonel Lively appeases the dull ache with gentle words and soothing caresses.
It suddenly occurs to Leighton that this is the first time they have broken their routine and it’s probably the last time she’ll entertain thoughts of ignoring the fair-haired officer because it’s obvious that detachment is now practically impossible.
[part 3]