#flying ace

I have not been able to stop thinking about this post since I saw it the other day and like many of you am having bucktommy thoughts about it. I have fallen into a bit of a research spiral and found out that this photograph is of two men who were part of the 8th division of the US Air Force in WWII. This division was responsible for half of the casualties of the air force in world war one. So after talking with @a-mel0n I am maybe.....maybe writing something a little angsty. About this. Here is the (rough, maybe) beginning.

"And this," Tommy said proudly, slapping the side of the last plane in the line up, "is the best one of all. My girl, Barbara Jean. BJ, if you're lucky."

"And the only woman Kinard knows," Chim joked, slapping his hand down on Tommy's shoulder.

"Very funny, Howie," Tommy said. The quirk of his lips gave him away.

"But not the only bj he knows!" Sal called out lewdly from across the tarmac.

"You're a real comedian, DeLuca!" Tommy yelled back, grin stretched full across his face now. Buck's head pings back and forth between the men as they banter, brow furrowed like he's missing something but isn't sure what.

"Wh-what does he mean by that?" Buck asked Tommy after Chim had wandered away. He didn't want to sound stupid in front of the other men, but somehow asking Tommy didn't feel quite so daunting.

Tommy gave him an incredulous look at the question, one that immediately softened when Buck flushed with shame. "Kid," he said. "Believe me. If you don't already know, there's no use learning."

Buck ducked his down and tried not to scuff his boots—still a little shiny—against the asphalt. Taking pity on him, Tommy threw and arm around his shoulder pulling him away from the planes.