#winnie writes

drunk seo-jun, who is a complete light weight. he cannot handle his alcohol at all. all it takes for him to be slurring his words is 3 shots of soju.

drunk seo-jun, who will somehow manage to get a score above 90 at karaoke. he has the most proud look on his face, “do i get a kiss for winning?” *hiccup* “only if you have some water first.”

drunk seo-jun, who may be good at karaoke but is horrendous at drinking games. he’s the type to be over confident and snarky until he loses. he’ll pout and skull the losing drink, wincing at the taste of all the different alcohol mixed together.

drunk seo-jun, who denies he’s drunk when you try to take the shot of soju he has away from him. “‘m fine, ‘m not drunk. i pinky swear.”

drunk seo-jun, who’s face (and neck) is completely flushed pink from the alcohol. he strips off his jacket complaining about how hot he is, but when you start to fan him in an attempt to cool him down he can’t help but laugh at how cute you are.

drunk seo-jun, who is super touchy-feely & clingy. he will be playing with your fingers and twirling strands of your hair with the most dopey smile you’ll ever see.

drunk seo-jun, who will confess his feelings for you as if you aren’t already dating. “ou’re the prettiest girl ‘ve ever seen—i love you so much.”

drunk seo-jun, who poses whenever he notices you taking a photo of him and photo bombs any selfies you take. “‘his one’s cute, send it to me.” he’ll proceed to set it as his lock screen wallpaper.

drunk seo-jun, who looks at you with the same soft smile that makes your resolve melt. all of his friends tease him but he just shrugs it off with a grin, “have you seen her? ‘m so lucky.”

drunk seo-jun, who may be completely wasted but still manages to make sure no one hits on you. he’ll keep a protective arm around you at all times, a deep scowl etching itself onto his face when he notices some creep attempting to make a pass at you.

drunk seo-jun, who wants to make out with you non stop. you have to constantly remind him that you’re still in public, “babe, gimme a kiss.” he’ll ask and then say, “one’s not enough, gimme some more.” while holding you in his arms, keeping you from slipping out off his grasp.

drunk seo-jun, who finds everything funny. he can’t stop himself from laughing until tears start to form at the corners of his eyes.

drunk seo-jun, who gets shy if you start to get flirty with him even if he’s the one who’s been making moves on you all night.

drunk seo-jun, who loves picking you up and having you in his arms. you have to bribe him to get him to put you down and even then it doesn’t always work.

drunk seo-jun, who lives for gossip when he can barely see straight. he’ll quietly sit next to you with wide eyes as you spill on all the drama you’ve been told. he will gasp dramatically when you finally tell him, “so that’s why that happened.”

drunk seo-jun, who craves ramen on the way home and makes you stop at a convenience store so he can have a snack. “c’mon, please baby. i really, really need some ramen right now.” when he finally gets some, he would give you the first bite just so he can watch the way your expression lights up because of how delicious it is.

drunk seo-jun, who will sit as still as he can (wobbling side to side) as you help him get ready for bed. his eyes are closed as you cleanse his skin for him, he’ll tell you just how much he likes this. “your hands feel s’good~,”

drunk seo-jun, who gets really nauseous after his drinks and has to go outside for some cold air to clear his head. needs you to pat his back while whispering sweet-nothings to feel better.

“Charles Via…button replaced…” Olive reads softly to herself. “Jack Kidd…hole in pants repaired…sorry, Jack, it was Val's repair this time…”

She carries this rigmarole on, filling the silence until she reaches the beds of James Douglass and Everett Blakely; inseparable, even in slumber. “Everett Blakely…you have a good woman on your hands.” She places the parcel down and pats it just slightly, somehow hoping her soft touch blesses it after Val’s own hands had already done so. Finally, she places the last parcel on to James’ bed, ripping the corner open and digging around her jumpsuit pocket to find her small bottle of perfume. She inserts the nozzle into the hole she’s made and spritzes gently, his shirt now smelling like her. She gives herself a very self satisfied grin, knowing that she and her friends are fulfilling their duty of taking care of these men – a couple more so than others, she thinks with a giggle.

As she begins to depart, she catches sight of the pictures above the men’s beds. Betty Grable stares back at Olive, that sultry stare over her bare shoulder seemingly mocking her. Olive places her hands on her midriff, squeezing the extra flesh of her stomach and hips, her face contorting in disgust as she compares her own body with this hourglass, swim suited figure that sits above her beloved’s bed.

“Definitely time to lay off the sinkers,” she says. The door swings open, making her jump.

“English! I was just coming to find you, chickie!” It’s Val, eyes widening as she clocks Olive’s worried expression. Those perfect brows furrow and that Victory Red mouth opens to an O-shape, understanding Olive’s upset with just eye contact. She sees her best friend still squeezing, eyes still locked on the postcard. “Ol…oh, come now. Don’t be ridiculous.”

Olive hesitates, pre-emptively clearing her throat because she knows her voice is about to crack. It comes out tight anyway, barely audible. “I don’t look like that.”

“Neither do they, English.”

“Val…”

“Nope,” she replies, beginning to turn away but thinking better of it, deciding instead to grip Olive’s shoulders and give her a small shake. “Snap out of it, English. So, what, Betty Grable is above his bed! Gene Tierney’s up on Ev’s, and I definitely don’t look like that.” Olive responds with her own furrow, lip curling as she begins to spout off the resemblance but thinks better of it. “Those girls may be above their beds, same as the other fellas. But look!” She turns her around, pointing at the small desk beside each bunk. “There’s me on Ev’s. There’s you on Dougie’s.”

Her grip loosens, her face softer now. “You’re his Dolly, hm?”

Olive feels her eyes fill with tears, wiping them before they spill out. She nods with a sniff, smiling wanly. “Yes, Brooklyn. I got it.”

“Good. Now, c’mon. Tattie will be going crazy if we don’t hop back on that truck!”

***

“There they are!” The girls hear as they near the truck’s hatch, the smell of coffee and sinkers pouring out of the open serving hatch. Val breaks into a smile as she runs to Ev Blakely for a smooch, before running up the steps of the truck to grab him a pack of Lucky Strikes and another coffee. James Douglass is leaning on the truck, deep in conversation with Hambone about someone they knew at bombardier school.

“Two coffees, huh?” Olive teases, pretending to aim a kick at Ev’s shins. “Not like you.”

“Tattie’s was nice, it’s just…”

“Not sweetheart’s coffee, hm?”

“Correct,” he replies softly, his eyes moony as he watches Val.

Just as Olive herself approaches the steps, she’s whistled at. “Ahem, where do you think you’re going, dolly?” A playful smirk is on James’ face as he puckers his lips and taps them. “Forgetting something?”

“You looked busy,” Olive giggles, pecking him on the lips. He steps back after that, grinning ear to ear.

“Never too busy for you,” he says, pulling her closer to him now. “Where’ve you been? I missed you.”

“Missed you too,” she murmurs, smiling now. “I was putting your repaired shirts away. Clean, too.”

“Shall I tell my ma she’s out of a job, then?”

“She should’ve been out of that job many years ago, lovey!” She teases. “However, you may prefer my method.”

“And why’s that?” He smiles bigger, his eyes lighting up.

“You’ll see!” She giggles, feeling him nuzzling into her neck and gently breathing her in.

Val rushes over and pulls her away from James. “Enough smoochin’! I need your help up here! You can tell him about Betty Grable later.”

“I wasn’t–” Olive begins, but James’ glance snaps back to her.

“What about Betty Grable?”

“Olive spotted Betty above your bed and about had a fit–”

“Valencia!” Olive urges, her teeth gritted. “Hush!”

Val, ignoring her, carries on. “But, she smiled again when I reminded her that she’s on your nightstand.”

There is a pause, the air thick with tension. “I’ll take it down, honey girl. I don’t even look at her.”

“No, no…” she says, shaking her head. “I’m just being silly. I can’t quite understand how we compare, and yet…”

“Now, you listen to me. You are far more beautiful.”

“Liar,” she giggles, trying to relieve the tension. James’ face stays stoney, his expression remaining serious.

“No. You’re far more beautiful, because you are real. And you love me.”

“I sure do,” she replies, placing her hand on his face, her thumb stroking the edge of his mustache. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You’re my dolly, ‘kay?”

“Told ya,” Val whispers behind her, sticking her tongue out at her. “Now, come on. Smooch and make up. With ya smoochie!”

She reaches up and demurely kisses him on the mouth, him looking around for a second before placing a hand on the back of her neck and capturing her lips in a deep, open mouthed kiss. They part, both a little breathless.

“Much better,” Olive sighs, blushing and a little giddy. “Erm…” she stutters, seeing James wink at her. “Coffee?”

“Please, dolly.”

“No sugar?”