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impala_chickTitle: Caught in the Rain
Fandom: Masters of the Air
Characters/Pairings: Gale "Buck" Cleven/John "Bucky" Egan
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1,460
Warnings: None.
A/N: Written for the bingo challenge at![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
lands_of_magic
Summary: In an AU where Gale and John stay at a Flak house, they hide out from the rain together.
Fic on AO3
Gale has his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his borrowed slacks as he walks along the banks of the river outside the flak house. It’s a dreary, overcast day and the air feels damp against his cheeks. Even though he’s been itching to get back to Thorpe Abbotts, he’s glad he doesn’t have to fly through this kind of weather.
He feels out of place here, in this quiet house with so few people in it and no noisy Officer’s club to distract him. It’s like he’s been dropped in some idyllic fantasy, but the looming inevitability of the war is bearing down on him anyway. He’s walked around the sprawling green property at least three times already, but he can’t walk fast enough to get away from his own thoughts. None of which are productive. When he’s not thinking about Regensburg-Schweinfurt - turning the mission over and over in his head, wondering if he could have done something to change the terrible outcome - he’s thinking about John.
His mind has been betraying him lately. Making him see things that might not really be there between him and John. Gale still remembers the warmth of John’s fingers against his cheeks just a few nights ago when they’d last gone out to a pub and John had grabbed his face. He remembers the way John’s thumb caught at the corner of Gale’s mouth, dragging his lip down a fraction. Gale thought for sure there was intent behind that touch.
Except nothing came of it, so he must have been wrong.
Then there was John’s gentle touch the night before, when he hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d been in the huge living area of the Flak house, in front of the roaring fireplace, when John found him and sat down in the big chair next to his.
“I miss Curt,” Gale had admitted into the silence that had settled between them. He never said anything about the men who went missing, because he felt like if he dwelled on all of the tragedy around him, he might not be able to get back into the Fort again. But with the darkness of the room closing in around them, Gale could feel his despair welling up inside his chest, threatening to engulf him.
John had sighed. “I do too.”
John put down the bottle he’d been holding to reach towards Gale. He remembers feeling surprised, and confused. John touches him all the time, but this seemed different. They were alone, for one thing. For another, John was asking permission.
“Well?” John jiggled his hand a little, an eyebrow raised to show his impatience. He was looking at Gale steadily, his gaze unreadable.
Gale had reached out and grabbed onto John’s hand. John squeezed it gently, and then let their clasped hands hang there between their two chairs. His grip was a physical comfort Gale didn’t know he could have.
“It’s gonna be okay,” John had said, in that very matter-of-fact tone he uses when he’s exasperated with Gale. He was looking at the fireplace, and flames danced in his eyes.
Gale thought maybe John was offering him something more than just a hand to hold. But then John hadn’t said anything more and they’d passed the rest of the night in relative silence.
Maybe Gale wants too much from John, if he expects him to voice his feelings. Maybe Gale is foolish to think John’s touches are supposed to mean anything at all.
A cold raindrop splatters on his brow, and he’s shaken from his thoughts. He walks faster as the gray sky seems to open up above him, drenching his hair and his civilian button-up shirt in a matter of minutes. The earthy smell that rises up from the ground is familiar and pleasant, so he tries to focus on that instead of being annoyed at the mud squishing under his shoes. He has quite a ways to go before he makes it to the house, and by that time he’ll be soaked no matter what he does.
Just then, someone grabs his arm.
“Buck! Get in here!”
It’s John, tugging him into the stables. Gale follows willingly, and it feels significantly warmer once John slides the big barn door partially closed. There’s one electric light hanging from the ceiling rafters that gives off a soft golden glow, and the place smells of dried hay and horses.
When John turns to face him, his light blue cotton button-up is so wet that the material is practically sheer. John’s biceps and broad chest are on full display, and a few curls are plastered to his forehead.
Gale gulps.
“You’re wet,” he blurts.
“Well, I ran out here to get you for supper when it started coming down,” John says, a soft smile on his face.
Rain patters on the roof above them, the sound rhythmic and soothing. Gale bites his lip, unsure where to settle his gaze. John seems to notice, because he takes a step closer and reaches for Gale’s hand.
“You know, we’re alone,” he says slowly, his fingers intertwining with Gale’s.
Gale watches, mesmerized, as a raindrop slides down John’s nose. His heart thunders in his chest. Gale is worried that if he makes a move now, he’ll break the spell, and John will step away. It’s probably better for Gale’s fragile heart if he leaves with his hope still intact, instead of discovering that John doesn’t feel the same way Gale does.
But surely John’s hungry eyes and gentle fingers aren’t figments of Gale’s imagination. Surely John being here with him now must mean something.
Gale drops John’s hand to curl his fingers around John’s hip bone instead, and tugs him flush against his thigh. He hesitates with his face centimeters from John’s. This is the moment that could change everything, and he wants to be sure they’re both in this together.
He watches the storm rage in John’s eyes, his pupils blown wide and his upper lip quivering. It looks like it’s excruciating for John to hold himself back. Gale’s in awe over the power John is ceding to him. Every fiber of John’s body is held taut, just waiting for Gale to act.
It’s breathtaking.
Gale doesn’t make him suffer any longer. He presses his lips to John’s just as thunder claps overhead.
John is ready for him, his lips wet and pliant. He opens up eagerly, and Gale sweeps his tongue inside. John tastes crisp and new, and not like alcohol at all, which is a surprise. He fists his hand in John’s thin civilian shirt, and he lets himself groan into John’s mouth. John sucks at his tongue, and it’s easy for Gale to imagine John sucking his dick like that. Then he tilts his head, and Gale chases after him with a huff of laughter. John is grinning against him, his kiss steady and sure, his every move a revelation.
Thunder booms again, but the roar of it is quiet compared to the thundering of Gale’s pulse.
John’s the one grabbing at his hips now, keeping their bodies pressed together. They’re both moaning, and Gale grinds down against his thigh just enough to let him know exactly how much he appreciates his kiss.
Then Gale comes up for air, breathing hard as he rests his forehead against John’s.
“We do have to make an appearance at supper,” John points out. His voice sounds rough, like it sometimes does after a night of drinking.
“I know.”
Gale steels himself for the moment he has to step away. He flicks his gaze over John’s face, nearly going cross-eyed because they’re so close together. John is smiling though, that much Gale can tell.
John puts his thumb at the corner of Gale’s lips, and tugs down just a little.
“God, your mouth,” John sighs.
Gale realizes before, at the pub, John had touched him on purpose. He’d been stupid to make them both wait when they could have been doing this before.
“I’ll have to remember how much you like it,” Gale teases before he steals another kiss. He keeps this one brief, even when John tips forward to chase after him.
“Supper,” Gale reminds him as he taps John on the chest.
John groans and then holds up his hands in surrender.
“You’re right.” John gestures towards the barn door. “After you.”
Gale takes one last look at John’s kiss-swollen lips before bumping him with his shoulder and heading for the door. He’s actually grateful for the cold, because that’ll surely tame his dick before they make it back to the house.
Outside the storm is still raging, but for the first time since Gale’s arrival at the Flak house his mind feels calm.
Fandom: Masters of the Air
Characters/Pairings: Gale "Buck" Cleven/John "Bucky" Egan
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1,460
Warnings: None.
A/N: Written for the bingo challenge at
lands_of_magic Summary: In an AU where Gale and John stay at a Flak house, they hide out from the rain together.
Fic on AO3
Gale has his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his borrowed slacks as he walks along the banks of the river outside the flak house. It’s a dreary, overcast day and the air feels damp against his cheeks. Even though he’s been itching to get back to Thorpe Abbotts, he’s glad he doesn’t have to fly through this kind of weather.
He feels out of place here, in this quiet house with so few people in it and no noisy Officer’s club to distract him. It’s like he’s been dropped in some idyllic fantasy, but the looming inevitability of the war is bearing down on him anyway. He’s walked around the sprawling green property at least three times already, but he can’t walk fast enough to get away from his own thoughts. None of which are productive. When he’s not thinking about Regensburg-Schweinfurt - turning the mission over and over in his head, wondering if he could have done something to change the terrible outcome - he’s thinking about John.
His mind has been betraying him lately. Making him see things that might not really be there between him and John. Gale still remembers the warmth of John’s fingers against his cheeks just a few nights ago when they’d last gone out to a pub and John had grabbed his face. He remembers the way John’s thumb caught at the corner of Gale’s mouth, dragging his lip down a fraction. Gale thought for sure there was intent behind that touch.
Except nothing came of it, so he must have been wrong.
Then there was John’s gentle touch the night before, when he hadn’t been able to sleep. He’d been in the huge living area of the Flak house, in front of the roaring fireplace, when John found him and sat down in the big chair next to his.
“I miss Curt,” Gale had admitted into the silence that had settled between them. He never said anything about the men who went missing, because he felt like if he dwelled on all of the tragedy around him, he might not be able to get back into the Fort again. But with the darkness of the room closing in around them, Gale could feel his despair welling up inside his chest, threatening to engulf him.
John had sighed. “I do too.”
John put down the bottle he’d been holding to reach towards Gale. He remembers feeling surprised, and confused. John touches him all the time, but this seemed different. They were alone, for one thing. For another, John was asking permission.
“Well?” John jiggled his hand a little, an eyebrow raised to show his impatience. He was looking at Gale steadily, his gaze unreadable.
Gale had reached out and grabbed onto John’s hand. John squeezed it gently, and then let their clasped hands hang there between their two chairs. His grip was a physical comfort Gale didn’t know he could have.
“It’s gonna be okay,” John had said, in that very matter-of-fact tone he uses when he’s exasperated with Gale. He was looking at the fireplace, and flames danced in his eyes.
Gale thought maybe John was offering him something more than just a hand to hold. But then John hadn’t said anything more and they’d passed the rest of the night in relative silence.
Maybe Gale wants too much from John, if he expects him to voice his feelings. Maybe Gale is foolish to think John’s touches are supposed to mean anything at all.
A cold raindrop splatters on his brow, and he’s shaken from his thoughts. He walks faster as the gray sky seems to open up above him, drenching his hair and his civilian button-up shirt in a matter of minutes. The earthy smell that rises up from the ground is familiar and pleasant, so he tries to focus on that instead of being annoyed at the mud squishing under his shoes. He has quite a ways to go before he makes it to the house, and by that time he’ll be soaked no matter what he does.
Just then, someone grabs his arm.
“Buck! Get in here!”
It’s John, tugging him into the stables. Gale follows willingly, and it feels significantly warmer once John slides the big barn door partially closed. There’s one electric light hanging from the ceiling rafters that gives off a soft golden glow, and the place smells of dried hay and horses.
When John turns to face him, his light blue cotton button-up is so wet that the material is practically sheer. John’s biceps and broad chest are on full display, and a few curls are plastered to his forehead.
Gale gulps.
“You’re wet,” he blurts.
“Well, I ran out here to get you for supper when it started coming down,” John says, a soft smile on his face.
Rain patters on the roof above them, the sound rhythmic and soothing. Gale bites his lip, unsure where to settle his gaze. John seems to notice, because he takes a step closer and reaches for Gale’s hand.
“You know, we’re alone,” he says slowly, his fingers intertwining with Gale’s.
Gale watches, mesmerized, as a raindrop slides down John’s nose. His heart thunders in his chest. Gale is worried that if he makes a move now, he’ll break the spell, and John will step away. It’s probably better for Gale’s fragile heart if he leaves with his hope still intact, instead of discovering that John doesn’t feel the same way Gale does.
But surely John’s hungry eyes and gentle fingers aren’t figments of Gale’s imagination. Surely John being here with him now must mean something.
Gale drops John’s hand to curl his fingers around John’s hip bone instead, and tugs him flush against his thigh. He hesitates with his face centimeters from John’s. This is the moment that could change everything, and he wants to be sure they’re both in this together.
He watches the storm rage in John’s eyes, his pupils blown wide and his upper lip quivering. It looks like it’s excruciating for John to hold himself back. Gale’s in awe over the power John is ceding to him. Every fiber of John’s body is held taut, just waiting for Gale to act.
It’s breathtaking.
Gale doesn’t make him suffer any longer. He presses his lips to John’s just as thunder claps overhead.
John is ready for him, his lips wet and pliant. He opens up eagerly, and Gale sweeps his tongue inside. John tastes crisp and new, and not like alcohol at all, which is a surprise. He fists his hand in John’s thin civilian shirt, and he lets himself groan into John’s mouth. John sucks at his tongue, and it’s easy for Gale to imagine John sucking his dick like that. Then he tilts his head, and Gale chases after him with a huff of laughter. John is grinning against him, his kiss steady and sure, his every move a revelation.
Thunder booms again, but the roar of it is quiet compared to the thundering of Gale’s pulse.
John’s the one grabbing at his hips now, keeping their bodies pressed together. They’re both moaning, and Gale grinds down against his thigh just enough to let him know exactly how much he appreciates his kiss.
Then Gale comes up for air, breathing hard as he rests his forehead against John’s.
“We do have to make an appearance at supper,” John points out. His voice sounds rough, like it sometimes does after a night of drinking.
“I know.”
Gale steels himself for the moment he has to step away. He flicks his gaze over John’s face, nearly going cross-eyed because they’re so close together. John is smiling though, that much Gale can tell.
John puts his thumb at the corner of Gale’s lips, and tugs down just a little.
“God, your mouth,” John sighs.
Gale realizes before, at the pub, John had touched him on purpose. He’d been stupid to make them both wait when they could have been doing this before.
“I’ll have to remember how much you like it,” Gale teases before he steals another kiss. He keeps this one brief, even when John tips forward to chase after him.
“Supper,” Gale reminds him as he taps John on the chest.
John groans and then holds up his hands in surrender.
“You’re right.” John gestures towards the barn door. “After you.”
Gale takes one last look at John’s kiss-swollen lips before bumping him with his shoulder and heading for the door. He’s actually grateful for the cold, because that’ll surely tame his dick before they make it back to the house.
Outside the storm is still raging, but for the first time since Gale’s arrival at the Flak house his mind feels calm.
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Date: 2024-06-19 09:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2024-06-23 04:50 am (UTC)