#olympia bird ficlet

[sergeant-spoons]

22. A Shakespearean Twist

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​​​​​ @chaosklutz​​​​​​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​​​​​​ @50svibes​​​​​​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​​​​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​​​​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​​​​​​ @whovian45810​​​​​​​​​ @brokennerdalert​​​​​​​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​​​​​​​ @claire-bear-1218​​​​​​​​ @heirsoflilith​​​​​​​​​ @itswormtrain​​​​​​​​​ @actualtrashpanda​​​​​​​​​ @wtrpxrks​​​​​​​​​

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The heatwave of Summer '41 finally broke in the last days of August. Weeks of humidity and wide-brimmed hats, rolled-up sleeves and swimsuits, and cold sandwiches and colder drinks came to a celebrated end. The residents and guests of the Bird Estate eagerly looked forward to a more comfortable September. One gloomy fact loomed over the two young courting ladies of the house, however, and it was the passage of time inevitably bringing college back into session. Antwon and David would be leaving for Harvard in two weeks to begin the fall semester. A sense of urgency dawned upon the two couples, and they began to spend more and more time exclusively with each other. By virtue of this shift, Antwon did not notice David's seemingly sudden interest in Olympia's everyday activities, and when David said he was going to invite her out for a day, his friend failed to think anything of it.

Now, he leaned in the doorway of Olympia's airy bedroom, watching her twist the ties of her dress behind her back as deftly as a practiced seamstress knotting her needlework. She had not yet spotted him, intent on her task. Two ribbons lay off-kilter, one tighter than the other. Evidently, she could feel the difference; there she went, pulling on one to even out the stretch. For a moment, he wondered how to tell her just how deeply he cared about every little thing she'd ever done, was actively doing, and would ever do. Then imaginings of her refusal silenced his hopes, and he tugged at his sleeves, newly self-conscious. Olympia paused, catching the motion and thus his reflection in the mirror, and he brought back his smile for her sake and hers alone.

"But soft," he murmured, "what light through yonder window breaks?"

He brought his thumb up to his neck and brushed it across his skin, remembering her lips there the night before. Encouraged by the smile ghosting across Olympia's lips, he went on.

"It is the East, and Juliet is the sun," he mused, his voice growing louder as he set foot into the room. "Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon-"

"-she who is already sick and pale with grief-"

"-that thou, her maid, art far more fair than she," they finished together, and Olympia giggled as David swept her into his arms. He nuzzled his face into her shoulder, exhaling with a happy hum.

"I like this dress," he said, touching its billowy fabric, "it reminds me of the clouds over the estate."

"Just these clouds?" she teased. "But you've only seen them this one summer."

"And I hope to see them plenty of summers ahead," he decreed, grinning into her collarbone as he picked her up and spun her about. She laughed, pawing at him affectionately, and he set her back down, pecking the side of her chin as he stepped back and eyed her almost reverentially.

"A few days ago, you said your father owned a sailboat." At her nod, he implored, "Come sailing with me."

"Sailing? Where?"

"The lake at the country club," he suggested, his eyes twinkling. "We'll go for the whole day, and no one can tell us to be home before sundown, and it'll be just you and me."

Olympia sighed dreamily, relaxing into his arms, and pressed a tantalizingly soft kiss to his lips.

"I would like that."

"Then let's do it," he murmured, chasing her lips as she pulled away.

"Yes," she said, her smile growing in tandem with his own, "let's."

Lake Abitibi was only an hour's drive from the estate, but it was far enough out of the way that no one of note would come looking. Mr. Carlisle was happy to drive them there without question as to their companionship, and clever Olympia knew he wouldn't speak a word of the jaunt once he was given leave to enjoy the facilities of the club up on the proper at his leisure. He paraded off to gossip and smoke with the other chauffeurs and Olympia and David strolled down to the lake far below. It was a small thing without a name, and the intended sailors were more interested in the small channel attached to the western side of the lake. It bent around the treeline and went along for two miles before opening up onto the magnificent, sparkling Abitibi. Private property of the country and yacht club, the greater lake was well-maintained and sparsely populated, exactly what the moneyed families who frequented the place liked to see. Best of all was the gondola system the club employed to transport their guests from the club and golf course to the docks of Lake Abitibi.

Olympia's father didn't even know how to sail, but all his rich friends owned a sailboat, and thus, so did he. The dockhands seemed pleasantly surprised when the heiress requested to take the boat out for the afternoon. She joked to David that this might be the vessel's maiden voyage and was endeared when he took her seriously. He made a show of ordering a ceremonial bottle of champagne to crack on the bow to celebrate, and when he ordered another bottle to actually drink, Olympia would have thought the whole display overly ostentatious had he not poured a glass for everyone present, dockhands very much included. They boarded the schooner with much fanfare and sailed away into the afternoon, taking with them a hamper packed to the brim with finger foods, cheeses, and bread from the club's very own delicatessen, several bottles of the finest wine from the Bird cellars, and, of course, a box of Olympia's favorite macarons.

But their trip wasn't really about the food (though it certainly made it all the merrier) or even the sailing. At the most base level, they'd come out here for some peace and quiet—and privacy. But while the sun shone, they'd play it coy, display their innocent friendship to any curious onlookers who might have a word to say to Mrs. Bird on the telephone later. Olympia had more fun with the whole sailing bit of the venture than she'd expected, even though she didn't have a clue what she was doing. Hardly a minute into their voyage, she almost received a nasty knock on the head by the swinging boom but managed to duck just in time, warned by David's alarmed urging. Once they were securely on their way, tacking to and fro across the lake from the east shore to the west, they both settled in, enjoying the ride. David got her to hold the rope, and she was puzzled until he put his arms around her and wrapped his hands around her own. She snuggled into his chest, smugly content, and she couldn't resist stealing a little kiss or two, even if it meant losing her grip on the rope. She managed to distract David, too, and the boom swung around when they weren't expecting it. Olympia nearly got hit (again), but David fielded off the boom with his hands and wrangled the rope until they were back on a steady westward course.

"You're not really supposed to do that," he mumbled, nuzzling a lazy kiss against her neck as she craned her head, basking doubly in the sunlight and his adoration. "You could hurt yourself or be knocked off the ship."

"But you weren't," she sighed, running her hands through his hair in the way she knew he liked. "My hero."

Olympia would happily boast that she'd learned plenty about sailing by the end of that day (she hadn't, not really), but one look at David—who actually knew what he was doing—and it was easy to pinpoint him as the professional. He did all of the real work while Olympia sat around and looked pretty in her favorite sunhat, flowy dress, and fashionable sandals. She spent quite a while admiring him—ogling the muscles in his arms as he handled the ropes, swooning at his gorgeous, windswept hair—and even longer kissing him silly. She painted her nails and convinced him to let her paint his thumb over a bruise he'd gotten the day before when he'd clumsily closed a closet door on his hand, trying to hide himself and Olympia mid-tryst from Antwon. As the day waned, they sated their hunger with the bits and baubles from the hamper, then settled down to watch the sunset. Olympia sat between David's legs, her head on his shoulder, and smiled as he pressed one soft kiss after another to her hair and forehead. He'd taken to rhythmically and innocently stroking her legs, and as they sat there, Olympia thought for the first time that he might love her.

The sunset was lovely but brief, just how Olympia wanted it, knowing as soon as twilight fell, all proprieties were to be abandoned. While there was yet orange light in the sky, David's hands began to slip to places other than her legs, places that made her squirm, all while his lips on hers kept her quiet. By the time the first stars came out, they'd all but forgotten that a world existed beyond the sailboat, and they stumbled belowdecks into the small but lavish captain's cabin to make the most of the night.

Five hours later, they were back on the dock, tugging on sandals and tipping the lone dockhand still on the clock. Under the silver light of the moon, they dashed up the hill in a haphazard line, cutting through the grass and onto the fake green. Hastening toward the sweeping steps and balcony of the country club, Olympia led the charge, feeling guilty for forgetting Mr. Carlisle. David was not far behind, picnic hamper in hand. The heiress' worries were soothed, however, when she ducked into the parlor and found her chauffeur asleep in an armchair twice the size of his person, cradling a bottle of wine. She woke him with an apology already slipping through her lips, but he waved her into silence, not minding the wait even when he realized the late hour.

"I had meself a whale of a time," he told her, getting to his feet and dusting off his uniform. "Any time ye want te go out fer the night, ye can count on me te drive ye—and yer beau."

He winked, and Olympia blushed a little but didn't deny it, knowing he'd keep the secret as well as any lockbox or safe. Mr. Carlisle wobbled on his feet and laughed at himself, looking down at his leg that had fallen asleep. For a moment, his employer was concerned as to his level of sobriety; as it turned out, Mr. Carlisle hadn't had a single drop from the bar, nor from the bottle in his arms. He informed her as they walked to the car, a relieved David right beside them, that he was afraid of someone taking this expensive wine from him, a gift from one of the serving girls after he sang her a few old Scottish tunes—or, as he said, "a few auld Scotty choons."

Their drive back was blessedly uneventful. The only other car they passed was a taxi heading into town, coming from the same direction as the only train station in the region. David fell asleep on Olympia's shoulder in the backseat, and when she leaned her head on his, she started to nod off as well. At some point, Mr. Carlisle had taken notice and turned the radio off to let the pair doze. They woke from their light slumbers as soon as they slowed down and took the wide turn into the long driveway to the estate, and did their best to look presentable while still rather sleepy. It was just after two in the morning when they crossed the threshold, hurrying to escape the cool, damp night. While Mr. Carlisle went to get himself a stout coffee from the unattended kitchen (for some peculiar reason, caffeine made him sleepy), Olympia and David drifted into the parlor, following the sounds and smell of a crackling fire. Fish the groundskeeper was still awake; as he tended to the flames under the mantel, he told them he hadn't felt right going to bed before Miss Rose came back from her dinner with Mr. McCree. Her surprise quickly morphing into unease, Olympia pointed out the hour, and Fish—an excitable man—quickly became anxious. Even more so than Olympia, sweet, down-to-earth, punctual Rose was the darling of the household; her peculiar lateness was easily grounds for concern.

Quickly piecing together what they knew didn't bring Olympia any sense of peace. Antwon and Rose had left for a nice dinner in town around six that evening. Having been granted permission by telegram to borrow his uncle's third-favorite car whenever he so desired during his stay at the Bird Estate, Antwon drove. They had plans to visit the bar and maybe have a dance or two before coming home. The thought that they'd elected to stay the night in town instead was outlandish, to say the least. Why would they want a hotel when they had perfectly good beds (and plenty of privacy) at the Estate? Steaming mug in hand, still wearing his coat, Mr. Carlisle poked his head back in and asked if there was anything he ought to do before heading to bed. Earl Gray, who'd been snoozing on the carpet in front of the fire, yawned, stretched, and went back to sleep, and Olympia started to cry. David was at her side in an instant, touching her arms and scanning her face for any sign of injury. She told him tearfully that she had a bad feeling about all this, and his expression switched like lightning from concern to decisiveness.

"I hate to ask more of you, sir," he said, and Mr. Carlisle was already setting aside his coffee before David had finished the request. He went straight away, grabbing his cap from the hook on the door and buttoning up his coat as he went out into the night. Earl Grey, woken when Fish backed into him by accident, jumped up and padded after the chauffeur, meowing confusedly at the front door when it was shut in his face. Olympia scooped him up and went back into the parlor as she stroked his back, but his purring only got her crying again. David drew her onto the couch, and they sat there, quietly discussing how Mr. Carlisle deserved nothing short of a bonus for his work tonight and how Olympia would see to it as soon as she could get around to the bank, anything to keep their minds off what they didn't know. Fish went to bed but said he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep and to come and get him if there was any news.  They promised they would, and he left.

Earl Grey fell asleep on Olympia's lap. The two humans he accompanied dozed on and off, taking turns to drift into a state of almost-dreaming until they realized the dream was about their missing friends and were promptly shocked awake. It was five minutes to four a.m. when the telephone rang. Olympia bruised her shin on the coffee table in her haste to pick it up, and as soon as Mr. Carlisle greeted her from the other end, she knew the news was nothing good. She grabbed David's hand and squeezed hard, and he wrapped his other arm around her back to steady them both.

"Ma heid’s mince," Mr. Carlisle said, and Olympia could hear the weariness in his chest from the tightness in his breath and the thickness of his usually mild accent. "All ma thoughts're like the fret rollin' in from te sea."

"Mr. Carlisle, tell me, has something happened?" Olympia pleaded, and David tightened his arm around her just a little, almost more tense than she was.

"Aye, there's been a row. Miss Rose is in hospital."

"What?!" Olympia gasped, her tears rising anew. "How?! Why?!"

"I dinnae ken," the chauffeur replied miserably, and if he didn't know, who could?

"What about Antwon?" the heiress pressed. "Where is he?"

"He's there, too." Mr. Carlisle turned aside to cough. "They willnae let 'im in te see her, though. Not me, neither. They think he's got somethin' te do wit' Rose gettin' hurt, and hurt bad."

Olympia went pale. Though David tried to rub her arm soothingly, she could feel the tremble of disbelief and anger he tried vainly to suppress. Hollow-voiced and wet-cheeked, Olympia thanked her chauffeur for the update and bade him come home. He started to say he'd be back before sunrise, but she interrupted and made him promise that if he felt like he was falling asleep at the wheel to pull over until the feeling passed. They said their goodbyes and as soon as the line went dead, Olympia fell back onto the couch, turning into David's shoulder. He wrapped his arms around her, and as she pawed at his chest, she wept for the thousand biting questions one non-answer had raised.

"What happened?" she sobbed, fisting his shirt. "What could have possibly led to this?"

"I don't know, darling." David tucked her snugly against his chest, doing his best to be strong for her but powerless against the shivers of dread that periodically wracked his body. "I just don't know."

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#olympia bird #olympia bird 22: a shakespearean twist #band of brothers #prose's passion #olympia bird ficlet #band of brothers oc #david webster x oc #band of brothers ficlet #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers fic #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show ficlet #hbo war show fanfiction #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show fic #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #prose's passion update

[sergeant-spoons]

21. A Morning Fancy

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​ @chaosklutz​​ @wexhappyxfew​​ @50svibes​​ @tvserie-s-world​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​ @whovian45810​​ @brokennerdalert​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​ @claire-bear-1218​​ @heirsoflilith​​ @itswormtrain​​ @actualtrashpanda​​ @wtrpxrks​​​

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The house was quiet and still. It had been so all week, but the oppressive humidity of the past five days had finally broken with last night's rainstorm, and a lightness had come to the air that made the quietude seem fitting. Olympia was walking down the hall to David's room, an anthology of poems by Ella Wheeler Wilcox tucked snugly between her arm and chest, when she came upon her cousin. They exchanged the usual morning pleasantries before he commented on the lashing of the rain upon his window last night and she teased him to hurry along and not miss the last of breakfast. They parted ways with a smile and a promise to convene on the porch at teatime for tea (the customary) and chess (an additional pleasantry). Olympia checked that no one was about before slipping into her clandestine beau's room, treading the path to his bed she'd followed a dozen times before over the course of the month. August was waning but her affection for David Webster only grew by the day.

Olympia studied the tousled sheets before her, smiling fondly to see he had not made his bed nor Rose had been along to do the chore for him. She patted his pillow affectionately, picturing his pretty head still dozing where she'd left early that morning, sneaking out of his room after a late-night tryst. There was a note sticking out of a certain page in the anthology, a note that read something to the effect of Last night was fun, we ought to visit more, signed with a heart. It was a tease—a flirtation, if you would. David knew as well as Olympia did that 'last night' was not their first evening engagement of the summer, nor would it be their last. In the storm last night, reckless abandon had been the name of the game. The thunder and lightning wreaking havoc on high had not only served to make their 'activities' all the more electrifying, the noise outside allowed for a bit more volume to escape David's bed. A faint flush came upon Olympia's cheeks, nose, and neck as the particulars of their time together arose in her mind.

I miss you, she thought as if he could hear, though she'd only just seen him not ten minutes before at the breakfast table.

"'In the sweet dim light of the falling night'," Olympia whispered to herself as she laid the book of Mrs. Wilcox's poems on David's pillow, "'she found him at her side'."

"Love's coming," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the anthology, a musing which she meant with all her heart but just so happened to be the title of the poem she had selected for David's eyes alone. She liked the second stanza the best:

She had thought how his armor would blaze in the sun, As he rode like a prince to claim his bride: In the sweet dim light of the falling night She found him at her side.

Vacating the room and shutting the door silently behind her, Olympia turned down the hall just in time to catch Rose stepping out of the linen closet.

"Good morning!" exclaimed the mistress of the household, in quite a pleasant mood despite the impending heat of the day.

"Oh! Good morning, Miss Bird."

As Rose turned, a smile broke across her lips. There was a small red mark on her neck that she tried to hide with the collar of her blouse; Olympia noticed it but made no mention, stifling a teasing remark.

"If you would please," Rose continued, "Mrs. Withers would like to request something from you as soon as you find the time to visit the kitchen."

Olympia tipped her chin thoughtfully. "Now that is curious indeed. I'll go right now."

"Have a nice morning, ma'am."

"The same to you, Rose."

Waltzing into the kitchen a few minutes later, Olympia snatched up a pear from the fruit basket and declared, "If this has anything to do with our handsome bachelor neighbor, it's an immediate yes from me."

Mrs. Withers, forgoing a greeting in favor of a gasped reprimand, promptly stepped forward and flicked the dishtowel in her hands at her young employer. Olympia yelped, jumping aside to avoid the smattering of tap water flung her way.

"Treachery! Betrayal!"

In feigning a swoon, she fell against a second person she had not yet noticed; turning about as her arms were steadied by familiar hands, she could not help a smile to find David trying his very best not to laugh.

"Good morning to you, too."

She grinned. "What are you doing here?"

"Fetching a lunch basket for himself and your cousin," Mrs. Withers supplied, delivering the very same to David's free hand (his other, he kept resting on the small of her back). "They're off to the country club."

"Really? What for?"

David grimaced.

"Tony wants to go golfing again today."

Olympia snickered.

"Have fun."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You think my suffering is funny."

"Maybe just a little." She laughed when he made a face, exaggerating his offense. "Wear a hat, why don't you? Antwon, too. It's going to be awfully hot today."

"Good idea." 

David stepped toward Olympia, then seemed to remember Mrs. Withers and leaned back, taking his beau's hand as if to shake. Mrs. Withers, shrewd woman that she was, noticed the glance the lovers shared and promptly returned to the sink, running the tap as if each and every dish wasn't already drying on the rack. David dropped Olympia's hand so he could hold her chin, tilting her face up for him to kiss. He pressed his lips to her forehead, then her nose, her cheek, her jaw—alas, she became impatient and seized upon his collar, taking the initiative for a proper kiss before he allowed himself the chance. He swooned as they parted, his pupils blown a little wider than before.

"Check your pillow," Olympia whispered, pressing a light kiss to his ear before leaning down and biting innocently into her pear.

David adjusted his shirt where it was tucked into his pants and wished his girlfriend an audible, platonic farewell. Mrs. Withers looked over her shoulder but did not turn fully until David had left the kitchen.

"He's a nice young man. With a nice fancy for you."

Olympia blushed becomingly. "You think so?"

"I do."

"Don't tease me like that in front of Antwon, at least."

"I wouldn't even think of it."

"So what's this about Mr. March?" Olympia asked, coming around to lean on the counter and take a bite out of her pear like she would an apple.

Mrs. Withers squinted at her. "I never mentioned Abel."

"Ah, but it is about him, whatever it is you want to ask me, isn't it?"

"Well, yes. But how-"

"You called him Abel," Olympia pointed out gleefully, "and you're wearing your second-nicest dress today."

If Olympia hadn't known better, she would have thought Mrs. Withers had begun to blush.

"I didn't think you would notice."

"Of course, I would!" the heiress exclaimed. "I love that dress! Give us a twirl, now, won't you?"

Mrs. Withers did as requested, and Olympia clapped and cheered with no shortage of mirth.

"Well, then, it's settled! We'll go pay dear Mr. March a visit. It's been too long since I've seen him out and about, though his horses are always in the field just below the hill—you know the one, I go to sit there all the time."

"Yes, I remember." Mrs. Withers untied her apron and hung it neatly on a peg by the wall. "I've got everything prepared to make supper as soon as we've returned, and there's a spread of cold cuts for lunch, and Rose can make afternoon tea better than myself, if we're not back by then-"

"Well, then, you've got it all settled," Olympia soothed, having not even thought what the absence of her honored cook might have on the household, "which means we can go—and should go—right this minute."

"Yes," Mrs. Withers agreed, "just let me fetch the basket first."

"Ooh, the basket." Olympia tried to peer inside but was foiled by Mrs. Withers' quick hand. "What did you make for the old dear?"

"Fudge," came the belated reply as they came down the hall and into the foyer. "I made him fudge."

"What kind?"

"Peanut butter." Mrs. Withers shot Olympia a look. "Will that be all?" she asked almost sarcastically, and Olympia suppressed a giggle.

"One last thing—did you write a note to go along with it?"

Mrs. Withers paused with her hand on the front door's knob.

"No."

"Then how about a poem?" Olympia looked up the main staircase, picturing her beloved library. "I could go copy one down from Atticus, or E.E. Cummings, or-"

"No, that's fine." Mrs. Withers shook her head. "We're simpler people, Abel and I are. We don't fawn over fancy words like you and your Mr. Webster there." A small smile. "I mean no offense, of course."

"None taken at all," Olympia replied, and tucked her arm into Mrs. Withers'. "Let's get going, then. It's not a long way down the hill, I know, but I can already feel in the air—it'll be too hot for a lengthy stroll after midday."

Indeed, the sunny sky on the walk down to the farm seemed to promise a hot afternoon. The sun was busily sloping towards its peak, not a cloud in sight. The day grew hotter with every passing minute—or, at least, that's what Olympia felt it was like. By the time the two women reached Mr. March's farm, they were looking over their shoulders and dreading the march back up the long hill to the Bird Estate. There was an odor in the air about the farm that displeased Olympia greatly, and though she scrunched up her nose once or twice, she did not vocalize her dislike. It was the horses, she was sure, those beautiful beasts that did not smell quite as nice as they looked. She followed Mrs. Withers to the door of the house; when no one answered their knocking, they went through the open gate toward the barn. They found Mr. March stacking hay with a large pitchfork just inside the broad doors, smartly keeping to the shade.

"Ah! Miss Withers, and Miss Bird!" A smile leaped upon the old farmer's fond face, and he set down his work at once to greet the newcomers. "What a lovely surprise!"

"Oh, please," Mrs. Withers hummed, blushing, as Mr. March kissed the back of her hand, "call me Lennon."

Mr. March's delight seemed to be growing exponentially. He offered his given name in turn to both his guests and quickly insisted on giving his hopeful beau the grand tour of the farm (although Olympia knew Mrs. Withers had visited a number of times before). Olympia, happy to grant them a walk by themselves, announced her desire to stay with the horses. She watched the pair as they strolled off, Mrs. Withers' arm tucked familiarly into Mr. March's, and a small smile crept upon her young lips.

See, I knew they would make a good pair.

While the old couple enjoyed the summer sun and their blossoming romance, Olympia withdrew into the barn. Mr. March had not yet let his two horses out to pasture yet and they stood stamping impatiently in their stalls. Olympia came up to the gate and clicked her tongue at them until they came towards her. She patted their noses and they swished their tails, contented for the time being at this new curiosity. Antwon had a messenger bag that he used for his schoolbooks; Olympia had 'borrowed' it for the morning and brought two novels and an apple each for the horses. She reached into the bag and produced the fruit now, and as the horses champed away, their large lips tickling her hand, she laughed and recited a few verses about the loveliness of man's best steed.

"That's some nice poetry, ma'am."

Olympia turned and found Jett Fisher, her groundskeeper (who they called Fish), coming into the barn. Her surprise must have been evident on her face, for he tipped his cap at her and told her often came down here to help Mr. March with the more strenuous tasks on the farm.

"He's not as spry as he once was," Fish said, then paused, an apple of his own raised halfway to his mouth. "I only come once I'm done with all I've got to do on the estate, Miss Bird," he added hurriedly, and Olympia blushed.

"Oh- oh, yes, of course."

It hadn't occurred to her that her staff did things beyond their duties on the estate, and her cheeks began to color as she realizes her ignorance. Fish offered her a small smile, forgiving, and she stepped up to take his arm.

"You said you come here often?"

"Yes'm."

"Could you give me a tour, then?"

"Gladly."

"Wonderful. Oh, but Fish-" Olympia tried and failed not to let her smile become a smirk. "Let's try to keep out of sight of Mr. March and Mrs. Withers."

Fish chuckled. "I don't think they'd notice us even if we came face-to-face, ma'am."

"They are in love, aren't they?"

Fish shrugged. "Seems like it to me."

"And also to me." 

Satisfied, Olympia nodded toward the open doors, where strands of hay lay spilt on the ground by the warm breeze.

"Shall we?"

Fish led her out the door of the barn, and for the next half-hour, they walked and talked their way across the farm. They saw the pasture and discovered a wild blueberry patch growing over the westernmost fence. As they looped back around to the house, Olympia looked at Fish thoughtfully but did not speak her mind until he suggested she do so.

"I was only thinking," she began, "that we don't get out much, do we? The whole staff, I mean, all of us together."

Fish looked like he wanted to make a correction but swallowed it back and agreed. "Yes'm, that's true."

"Well, we should. How about we go out on the town? My treat! We'll have lunch, you and I and Mrs. Withers and Rose and Mr. Carlisle and Mr. Sullivan. And the boys! If they're not off to Harvard by the time we find a good day."

Fish looked surprised, and Olympia was about to ask why when he cleared his throat and replied, "That sounds lovely, ma'am. I'm sure the rest of the staff would be happy to come along."

"Then it's settled!" She clapped happily, bringing one hand across herself to meet the one tucked around Fish's arm. "We'll make a day of it. Someday. Soon."

"Ah, yes. Soon."

There seemed to be a hint of disbelief in the groundskeeper's voice, as if he was hesitant to believe her plan was more than a passing fancy, but Olympia thought nothing of it. She meant it, and that was all that mattered. Of course, he would believe her on the undetermined day she followed through, for he would be along for the ride.

"There you are!" Olympia exclaimed as they came up to the porch and found Mr. March and Mrs. Withers sitting on matching rocking chairs, sipping iced tea from tall glasses. "My, oh my, isn't it hot out today?"

Mr. March hopped up at once. "Please, sit here in the shade, Miss Bird."

"Oh, thank you, but I should really be going soon. I have... studying to do. The newest magazines came in and I really must get through them before the end of the day, or Antwon will get impatient with me. He likes to discuss them, see, and he says that this month, there's a particularly interesting piece on a recent archaeological dig in Iran from Howard University..."

Mr. March returned to his seat, nodding just as slowly as he sat. As Mrs. Withers leaned over to whisper something to him, adjusting the glass in her hand, Olympia saw her fingerprints left by the humidity and hummed discontentedly.

"I wish there was a way to get back up the hill in the shade..."

The heiress turned and pouted at the road sloping up and up towards the Bird Estate.

"I'd be right pleased to take you back in my cart, miss, if you'd only give me a minute to hitch it up," offered Mr. March, rising yet again, and Olympia did not catch the disappointed look on Mrs. Withers' face until she'd already agreed.

"On second thought!" she exclaimed, taking the old farmer by the sleeve and turning him back toward the porch. "Fish and I were thinking of seeing the pond in the glade just down the road. As I recall, the way is mostly shaded..?"

"Ah, yes-"

"Then stay, Mr. March-"

"Please, call me Abel."

"-and we will see you in, say, an hour's time?"

"Sounds just fine to me," Mr. March replied meekly, seeming dazed by all the changing of decisions, whereas Mrs. Withers was used to this sort of wavering from the mistress of the house and did not bat an eye.

"Splendid!"

Olympia tugged Fish along, ignoring his grumblings at the hold-up—"The flowers will wilt in this heat if I don't water them soon."—and waved cheerfully to the ever-shrewd Mrs. Withers, who was calmly sipping on her iced tea and looking at Olympia like no plot or scheme of hers had ever been more obvious.

"Leave them be," Olympia scolded Fish in a low voice when he looked unamusedly over his shoulder. "They'll be lost in conversation-"

"And each other's eyes."

"-before they even know it."

"So?"

"So," she pressed, "they will fall in love!"

Fish sighed and let her lead him onto the side of the road, keeping closest to the motorway in the off chance an automobile came racing erroneously down the road.

"I suppose you're right."

"I often am."

Fish just shook his head and pretended his smile resulted from the sunshine and not the well-intentioned decisiveness of the young woman at his side.

"Often... Right."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#band of brothers #olympia bird #olympia bird ficlet #olympia bird 21: a morning fancy #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #prose's passion

[sergeant-spoons]

20. Sap

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​ @chaosklutz​​ @wexhappyxfew​​ @50svibes​​ @tvserie-s-world​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​ @whovian45810​​ @brokennerdalert​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​ @claire-bear-1218​​ @heirsoflilith​​ @itswormtrain​​ @actualtrashpanda​​ @wtrpxrks​​​

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Olympia knew mid-August in Iroquois Falls was one of the loveliest times of the year—and that was no inexperienced opinion. In the Bird heiress' well-traveled experience, summer was best spent sipping sweating beverages while the grass swayed and the sun warmed but did not blister her skin. She'd been to the Caribbean in the summertime; what a mistake. She'd spent half the trip fanning herself and mourning a terrible sunburn, not to mention the persistent heatstroke. Alaska was better but more bizarre; the sun never set until just before midnight and rose before five every morning. The whole summer, the evening was hardly an experiential time of day. France was beautiful in scenery and comfortable in climate; it was a close second in Olympia's ranking preferences. Nevertheless, home always took the cake.

Armed with wide-brimmed sunhats, picnic baskets, and unwieldy tour bags, clubs swinging back and forth with every stride, Olympia, Rose, David, and Antwon marched into the country and yacht club for an afternoon of golf. Rose was still a little sunburned on the arms from their trip to Lake Huron four days ago, and Olympia did not go without a pink shade to her cheeks, but David and Antwon had tanned some and were unafraid of the sun wrapped in thin, hazy clouds. The humidity would have made the air heavy were it not for a friendly, persistent breeze sweeping across the green. Olympia found it ever-so-faintly funny how the grass hardly moved, the breeze betraying just how artificial it truly was. As Antwon set up the tee at the first hole and David decided on a club, Olympia and Rose commandeered a table on the raised patio. They were able to spectate the entire green as they unpacked their lunches and soon traded their sunhats for a standing umbrella; the breeze, though relieving to the powdered sweat inching down the backs of their necks and collarbones, was not quite so patient with their floppily-fashioned hats.

"It's a lovely day for golf," Olympia remarked as she nibbled on a delectable finger sandwich prepared by Mrs. Withers that morning. "I hope the boys have fun."

Fifty yards out on the green, David stood and frowned at the little white ball sitting on its presumptuous and even littler perch.

"I don't like golf."

Antwon laughed. "A bit late to back out now, Web."

"I know," David groaned, passing the golf club from one hand to the other. "My regret is exponentially growing."

Olympia tittered lightly as she watched Antwon take David's golf club and step up the tee, apparently usurping the first stroke of their game. She leaned toward Rose, who was sipping lemonade from a tall fluted champagne glass, and tipped her head out toward the green, bearing an amused smile.

"Antwon has never been the most patient athlete."

"Nor a very patient man, to begin with," Rose agreed, and Olympia laughed.

"At least he's got you to keep him in check," the heiress assumed and looked back at the game just in time to see David hit a marvelous shot—straight into a pond.

"That's alright," Antwon tried to console through stifled snickering. "It's only a pond. The ducks will find it for you."

David grumbled something obscene under his breath, disparaging the game of golf, and squinted at Antwon. 

"That's not how ducks work."

Antwon raised his hands, palms to the sky, and shrugged.

"Says who? It's a whole other world here, my friend, who's to say they haven't trained the ducks?"

"Who's to say they have?" David retorted skeptically.

Antwon faked a pout. "You can't tell me there's someplace you'd rather be right now."

A very explicit recollection concerning himself and Olympia flashed to the forefront of David's mind. Stretching his neck as casually as he could manage, he forced the memory away and shook his head. Taking care not to look at the balcony yonder, he instead gestured to the waves lapping at the foot of the course's verdant slopes.

"The lake?" Antwon snorted. "We were just at a lake less than a week ago. You really want to go swimming again that badly?"

"Not swimming," David started to explain, but Antwon had lingered upon his own statement and continued to speak.

"Though, I wouldn't mind seeing Rosie in that swimsuit again..." He licked his lower lip. "You know, maybe we could take the subset just once instead of twice. Half a game."

Thank God, David mouthed to himself and celebrated the small triumph by promptly hitting his second ball into a tree from whence it did not fall.

"Where are the macarons, Rose?" Olympia poked through the first of their three baskets to no avail. "I'm feeling peckish for something sweet."

"Right here, Miss Bird."

"Ah, thank you."

Olympia took three treats for herself, then turned the box toward Rose. The macarons came from her favorite bakery in town, a place she ordered from so much she'd given it her official Bird family endorsement. She liked to think her approval influenced a significant number of the Iroquois Falls bakery patron population. Whether or not she was correct—well, she didn't care to find out, lest she was proven wrong.

"How are they doing?" Olympia beckoned for her binoculars, and Rose passed them to her across the table. "Ah, there they are."

A beat.

"Why is David in a tree?"

Antwon swatted twigs and other small debris off his face, spitting out a nugget of bark that had fallen right into his mouth. He put his hands on his hips and made a face as he squinted to see his friend beyond the sun right behind him.

"Find it yet?"

"No, not- wait-" 

A golf ball appeared out of the glare and nearly took out Antwon's left eye in its downward journey. He ducked and it bounced off his shoulder instead.

"Found it."

"Yes," Antwon sighed as he stooped to pick up the ball, "I noticed."

David jumped off the last branch and to the ground, brushing his hands together, then frowning at them to realize he'd been ensnared by sap.

"What hole are we on again?"

Antwon clicked his tongue and tossed the golf ball up and down in one hand.

"The first one."

The lemonade was getting too warm for pleasurable consumption, so Olympia took the pitcher inside and sought ice cubes from the kitchen. She would have sent Rose if she had not possessed the key quality of a familiar face. She walked right through the batwing doors and the cooks and servers hardly spared her a second glance. Her father was an esteemed member of the club, mostly due to the many hours he spent here every week before his wife relocated them both to Manhatten. Growing up, Olympia often came with her father to sit in the sunshine beneath the trees and read while he golfed. Once she was old enough to handle a full-sized club, she joined him on the course. So the staff knew her well and when she asked for ice, ice she was given.

"Well, hello there."

Olympia bit back a smile. "Funny seeing you here."

"What a coincidence, that we should cross paths like this."

Stifling laughter, Olympia pretended to turn aside to sneeze, and David stepped closer after a quick glance around.

"I'm absolutely horrible at golf."

"You're not that bad," she giggled. "Everyone feeds the ball to the fish at some point."

He squinted at her but that only made her laugh harder. She clutched the pitcher closer to her chest and rolled her eyes, coy. He leaned toward her ear and her heart flipped in her chest at his daring closeness.

"If my hands weren't covered in sap," he whispered, "I would hold no qualms about sneaking into that room behind you and taking you right on that fancy pool table."

Olympia gasped and stepped back, nodding toward the restrooms, but David had flustered her and he grinned to see it.

"Go wash up!" she insisted, and he winked.

"Wait for me?"

Her smile flickered. "I can't, David."

"Oh?"

"People here know my parents. They're bound to gossip even seeing us talk like this."

He looked aside, turning his head so far he gave the impression of the statue of David turned to face his vast enemy. Olympia knew she should not study his gaze so well; nevertheless, she did and saw the cares rushing through his mind. The desire to kiss her, to bring it all into the open and show everyone she was his and he, hers, was his opposition. His Goliath. For a moment, Olympia forgot what it was like to breathe air not tainted by desperate love.

"Right."

David tipped his head, polite, and stepped back.

"It was nice to catch up with you, Miss Bird," he said, louder.

Olympia nodded, returning his mannerly smile. "Enjoy your day, Mister Webster."

They parted, Olympia directed toward the balcony and David to the restrooms. Scrubbing at his hands, staring into the sink, he nearly cut himself with his own fingernail in his agitation. He snapped a curse under his breath and paused to glare at himself in the mirror. What right did he have, what goddamn right, to put her at that risk? He adored her, treasured her more highly than he valued himself, loved her beyond his own comprehension. She was too important for him to be so selfish. This was her world. He was only passing through.

"Damn it all," he muttered, bereft, and returned to washing the sap off his stricken hands.

He came back outside through the patio and saw the balcony occupied by only one figure, not two. Approaching the picnic table where Rose sat reading a horticulture magazine, he looked out over the green and saw Olympia had usurped his place on the course. She eyed a shot he could not picture, raised the club, and with a neat swing sent the golf ball soaring in the exact direction she'd wanted it to go. Antwon raised his hand over his eyes to watch the ball soar and Olympia covered her mouth as if she was trying not to laugh. With a sigh so fond it made Rose look up from her magazine, David dropped onto the side of the bench Olympia had vacated.

"God bless her," he said, and to his surprise, Rose laughed.

"She took pity on you, I think."

David's chuckling slowed when he saw something beige flapping on the edge of the lounge chair beside him.

"She left her hat up here." He looked down at his beloved, then back at the sunhat. "I don't want her getting sunburned..."

"I'll take it down," Rose offered, trading her magazine for the hat. "There's a page in there all about dogwood trees."

Immediately catching the meaning of her tease, David started to laugh—mostly at himself—and Rose smiled, pleased. As she proceeded down the long curved staircase to the footpath accompanying the green, David flipped open the magazine and found the page she'd mentioned, still chuckling. There it was, sketched, the spitting image of the white-flowered tree he'd climbed that first morning at the Bird Estate. Absentmindedly, he read a bit of the article until the words meant nothing before his eyes and he looked up to find Rose halfway up the steps, returning. A glance down at the course revealed Olympia had received the sunhat, for she now pinched the brim with one hand against the breeze as she watched Antwon line up his swing and subsequent shot.

"She says 'thank you'," Rose informed, passing behind David to resume her earlier perch, "and she wants you to know you can help yourself to any of the food."

"That's kind of her."

"She recommends the macarons, on one condition."

"Let me guess: I have to leave a few for her."

They shared a soft laugh.

"Rose-" David readily returned the magazine to her. "-you know about us, don't you."

Rose's nose and cheeks turned pink, too quick for the sun to have conjured the hue, and she folded the magazine over her lap.

"I do," she admitted. "I haven't said anything, though. Not to the staff or to her parents—not that I ever speak to them—not even to Tony."

David relaxed. "Thank you."

Rose looked surprised. "Of course. You would have done the same if Tony and I were in that sort of position."

"Aren't you?" David reconsidered the question. "I mean, Olympia's the heiress and all, but aren't the McCrees well-off, too? And, uh..?"

Rose turned a bit pinker but also began to smile. 

"Tony's parents are more... progressive than Miss Bird's. They married for love. They want their son to do the same and-" 

Rose cut herself off and tugged at her skirt. A smile crept onto David's face.

"You'd marry him."

"Yes," Rose blurted out, not quite so timid as David had expected. "Yes, in a heartbeat."

"Awww."

Rose swatted his arm with the folded magazine, but David only laughed.

"Have you met them? His parents?"

"Not yet, but he wants me to—Tony does—before he leaves for the fall semester."

David's smile flickered. For all the joys this August had brought, it yet remained the antecedent to September.

"I'm sure they'll like you."

As Rose flushed a third time, her gaze caught on something past David. He turned over his shoulder to see Olympia and Antwon coming up the steps, the former moving more animatedly than the latter. The winner—her designation made clear by the look on Antwon's face—scampered ahead and came upon the picnic table with seconds to spare. Leaning over David's shoulder, she snatched up a yellow macaron as her prize and took a hearty yet somehow still delicate bite. Satisfied, she joined him on the bench, sitting opposite David but turned with one elbow leaning on the table so she could still face him and Rose. As Antwon crossed around to sit with his girlfriend, Olympia reached under the table with her non-lounging arm and squeezed David's knee. He glanced at Antwon and, spying Rose offering a distraction, risked an inquiring smile at Olympia.

"Such a nice, sunny day," she said, taking his hand to hold under the table, "I think I'd like to keep it forever."

As Rose and Antwon voiced their concurrence, David settled on the bench and nodded, resettled.

Yeah, he thought as he let Olympia playfully feed him a pink macaron, I really would like to keep you forever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#olympia bird #david webster #prose's passion #band of brothers #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #fanfiction

[sergeant-spoons]

19. Summer Breeze Makes Me Feel Fine

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​ @chaosklutz​​​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​​ @50svibes​​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​​ @whovian45810​​​​ @brokennerdalert​​​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​​​​ @claire-bear-1218​​​​​ @heirsoflilith​​​​​ @itswormtrain​​​​​ @actualtrashpanda​​

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The following morning, Olympia woke earlier than her usual rising hour. She indulged in a long, leisurely shower before traipsing downstairs, her hair still damp, tied back devil-may-care at the nape of her neck. David was the first of the household to the breakfast table, reading yesterday's Montreal Gazette over coffee gone cold. He was frowning, his attention affixed to one report in particular. As Olympia watched from her languid approach, he flipped back to the page prior and began to read the article from the start again. She knicked a pastry from the tall tower on the table, kissed the top of his head good morning, and leaned over the arm of her usual perch to see what had so captured his attention. He noticed her after a moment and let the paper dip towards the table, his thoughtful frown alleviated only the slightest by her arrival.

"I didn't know you were at war," he said quietly, and she paused, her hand leaving her chair in favor of gently touching his shoulder.

"We've been in it from the start," she replied. "I just never mentioned it, because..."

"Because war is what it is."

"I don't understand it all that much," she admitted, and he put down the paper, turning his head toward her. She was not the sort to point out her own flaws and they both knew it. "I'm safe here, and I don't know anyone serving, so I don't like to think about it."

He laid his hand over hers upon his shoulder. "What about... No, it's none of my business."

"Antwon tried to enlist, but they marked him 4F."

"Oh." He blinked. "I... never would have guessed."

"He's terribly nearsighted, but he refuses to wear glasses." A hint of a smile crossed her lips. "Thinks it makes him less attractive to the ladies."

David managed a soft chuckle. "If Miss Rose has anything to say about that, I don't think he needs to worry."

"Exactly." She tilted her head, examining the stained glass windows, though she'd known them since her earliest childhood. "It's genetic, from his mother's side of the family."

"Huh."

"Father wears spectacles, too, but he's farsighted." She could feel his gaze seeking hers but did not meet it, unsure how he'd react to her forthcoming admission. "I'll probably need them before long." She swallowed, unexpectedly nervous. "Just for reading, though."

"I think you'd look very nice in glasses."

She turned to him, pleasantly surprised, and he quirked up his smile at her.

"Not that you're not gorgeous without 'em. You are." He cleared his throat. "Absolutely gorgeous, I mean."

A blush spread across her cheeks. He leaned toward her neck as if to kiss it, and her chest warmed up in anticipation of the contact.

"Gooood morning," yawned a voice made gravelly by the early hour as Antwon came into the dining room, blinking off the last of sleep.

David swiftly picked up the newspaper. Olympia clasped her hands in front of her. Antwon glanced between them but said nothing as he took his seat, and his smile was warmer, more open than before yesterday's revelations.

"Well," he said, "I'm off to the station in an hour. Rosie and I are going down to Lake Huron for the day."

"Are you, now?" Olympia quirked one brow. "You know, you really ought to ask me before taking my maid away like that."

Antwon made a face, but reached over the table and clasped his cousin's hand nonetheless.

"Come with us?" he suggested. "Then she wouldn't technically be away from you."

Olympia laughed. "Why not?" She winked at David, careful to ensure it could be taken as a playful gesture. "The breeze off the lake would certainly alleviate the heat."

"It has been hot this week," her cousin agreed. "Alright, then it's settled. Better pack your things as soon as you're done eating, Ollie, Web."

"Will do."

"Thanks, Tony."

Antwon smiled at them, wider than he usually might. Olympia could tell he was still riding the high of enjoying his relationship with Rose out in the open. Fighting off the lurking sentiment that her cousin could be far more of a hypocrite than he realized, she stared into her glass of orange juice as she sipped.

"Don't forget a sunhat," Antwon warned as he strolled off, and Olympia raised her glass as she swallowed.

"I won't," she called after him, and as she heard his laughter grow faint, she looked to David.

"Do you want to go?" she asked belatedly. "To the lake?"

He cracked a smile. "Depends on how warm the water is this time of year."

The corners of her mouth drew upward, and she squeezed his shoulder with a teasing yet affectionate hand.

"I hope you brought a swimsuit."

They were just about done packing within the next ten minutes. Olympia lent David her beige messenger bag- any darker color would be out of fashion for a beach day -to pack his things in. They'd only be gone for the day, not overnight, or she would have suggested a suitcase instead. Just as she was done gathering her own clothes and other accouterments, her lover poked his head in, her bag bumping against his hip.

"I don't think I own a pair of sunglasses," he said, "do you think-"

Olympia turned over her shoulder and tossed him a spare pair, and he thanked her with a grin, admiring them in his hand before carefully tucking them into his breast pocket. She beckoned him fully inside her bedroom as she crossed the floor, and he closed the door most of the way behind him, an instinctual move from their many hours of stealth these past few weeks.

"This way," she said, reversing the side of the sunglasses facing his chest, "or else the lenses will smudge."

He hummed his thanks, but he seemed distracted, and when she quirked a brow, he caught her eye again and smiled.

"Mmm..." 

He ghosted his hands over her hips and she shivered despite the warmth of the August morning. 

"I've always liked this sundress."

She looked down at herself. "It is a nice shade of yellow."

His touch became more tangible and she stepped a little closer, her sandal adjusting comfortably beneath the shift in her weight distribution.

"It looks very nice on you." 

His voice had become soft, and his eyes wandered. Olympia had just made up her mind that the train would just have to wait for them when Antwon appeared, whistling. His sunglasses were dark and he nearly walked into the doorframe, so Olympia didn't worry much about him seeing her and David so close together.

"Come along, you two," he urged, clapping. "Hurry up!"

David shot her one last longing look before following his best friend. Olympia kept picturing his expression as she packed, and as she passed her vanity on the way to the door, she saw just how pink-cheeked she'd become and giggled despite herself. The things that man could do to her. She paused at the water pitcher by the door to cool her nerves before she joined the other beachgoers in the foyer, and they climbed into the car in short succession and were on their way. Mr. Carlisle sang a song about Loch Lomond, the lake of his childhood, and by the time they arrived at the station, his passengers had started to sing along, though only Rose had picked up on all the words. It was a beautiful day, no doubt even lovelier on the lakeshore, and each of the four felt the most carefree they had all that summer season as they boarded the train.

Each couple enjoyed a separate compartment, which Antwon had initially protested in the car until Olympia subtly pointed out that if he were busy keeping an eye on her and David, dear Rosie might spend the ride in reticent boredom. Personal attentions might be hard to come by while sharing a compact space during a several-hour trip, she supposed, and once Antwon recognized as such, he was the first to approach the ticketing office and book the compartments himself. Olympia and David, for one, spent half the journey reading (they'd ended up packing a whole separate bag exclusively for selections from the Bird estate library) and the other half tangled up in each other as closely as public transport etiquette allowed (and even a bit closer than that). They cracked open the window and let the summer breeze flow in, and that was so pleasant they forgot not to love each other, for a time.

Antwon came to check on them twice, and when Olympia reminded him they were not misbehaving children, something seemed to shift in his opinion. She knew him well enough to discern it in his gaze. He left them alone for the next hour and a half, an especially good thing since, as soon as he'd returned next door to Rose, Olympia abandoned The Age of Innocence for a pursuit quite contrary to the title of the popular serial. 

The journey to Lake Huron took around two hours and fifty minutes. Antwon called it at three hours, but Olympia corrected him as they disembarked, and he was in much too good of a mood to argue semantics and let her have her exactitude. It was just past noon when they disembarked at Killarney and discovered with delight signs that indicated the public beach only a few blocks away. They decided to sit down for lunch first and found a local restaurant with a lovely view of the lake. They sat outside and wined and dined until they thought maybe they were too full for the beach but went down anyway. Their sluggishness dissipated as soon as they felt the lake breeze and the sand beneath their sandals and, as soon as they kicked those off, between their toes. The gentlemen guarded the huts while the ladies changed, and though Rose was shy at first, Olympia convinced her there was nothing scandalous about a bathing suit.

"Hot damn..."

Antwon was too busy eyeing up Rose, who enjoyed the attention despite her recent uncertainty, to notice David taking in a less-than-bashful Olympia. David licked his lips and his lover nearly jumped his bones right then and there, but he and Antwon still had to change, so she and Rose returned the favor of standing watch, and then they all went along the beach together. They traipsed the sands with their bags and lucked out on a trio of Adirondack chairs sitting unoccupied. Antwon spread out a beach towel, ready to work on his tan. Olympia and David relaxed with their books. Rose fascinated herself by drawing patterns in the sand with her bare feet, her modestly-painted mauve nails shifting through the grains.

It wasn't long before they all became hotter than was comfortable, but it was only when Olympia and Rose shared a glance that woke them from their sun stupor that they leaped up and raced down to the water. David came quickly, and Antwon joined them last, voicing his mild protests at being left behind. Olympia wasn't sure who splashed who first, but a water fight broke out before any of them had fully submerged themselves, and it was great fun for the few short minutes it lasted. They yelped and shook at the sprays of cold until Antwon caught up to Rose and scooped her into his arms. A ceasefire ensued as he spun her around, trying to keep his balance on the unsteady sands below his feet, both of them laughing merrily. Olympia splashed up to David, and as they watched the happy couple, his hand took ahold of hers beneath the gentle waves. They smiled at each other, enjoying the sun and the water and their friends' bliss, but the moment was tainted with the thought that they could not share their same affection with the world, not even with those same friends.

Rose gave a yelp, recalling their attention just in time to see Antwon toss her into the surf. They began to laugh and Antwon shot them a mischievous grin that Olympia remembered well from their childhood.

"Go on, Web," he called, "give my cousin what-for!"

Olympia was quicker to flee than David was to realize what the challenge was, and they played cat and mouse for a short time. The waves hindered great movement, but they were both strong swimmers, and they had the cheering of their friends (Antwon for David and Rose for Olympia) to inspire them. David caught her in the end and scooped her up just like Antwon had done to Rose, and as she clasped her hands in that familiar place around his neck, she blinked water out of her eyes and gasped. He seemed to appreciate the way her chest heaved and she swatted his pectoral as he turned away from Antwon, pretending to be shielding his and her eyes from the bright sun.

"Should I spin you around for good measure?"

She smoothed down the hair by the nape of his neck, made darker and wilder by the water. "I don't know how well my bathing suit would hold up," she admitted, and his eyes flashed.

"Well, now I'm really tempted."

He didn't get the chance, in the end, for Antwon had already traversed the beach to and from his bag and now initiated a game of catch back in the water. They stood in a diamond, the four of them, and tossed about a rubber ball that bounced and skipped off the water. Once they were bored of that, they went swimming some more, and only when they started to feel the water as cold rather than refreshing and noticed their fingers pruning did they get out. Relaxing on the beach in the same chairs as before, they dried off in the sun and checked the time at around four in the afternoon. Antwon fell asleep on his towel and Olympia and Rose went to get him an umbrella so he would not sunburn. David helped them set it up once they returned, then took Olympia by the hand and stole her away while Rose pretended not to see them go.

"Do you know any places like this back home?" he asked, pushing down the straps of her suitcase so he could kiss all along her shoulder. His lips, cooled by the water they'd both just drank, were so pleasant against her hot skin that she nearly forgot to reply. Her heart skipped a beat at how nonchalantly he thought of the estate as his home. She liked the idea, of him staying and making it so.

"I might," she answered, taking note of the sand in his hair as she ran her hands through it, "why?"

"I don't know if this American fad has reached Canadian heiresses like you," he said against her collarbone, "but goddamn, you'd look good skinny-dipping."

She giggled and gasped his name as his lips dipped lower. A coast guard appeared and shooed them off with an unnecessarily sharp whistle blow. They ceased their getaway by the boating docks on the far eastern end of the beach and caught their breath, laughing and basking in the sunshine. They made their way back to the chairs in due time, hand in hand. It was ten past five by the time they returned, late enough that they ought to leave. Rose woke Antwon from a dream that, as he explained to them while they walked to the changing huts, had nothing to do with the lake and everything to do with a honeymoon in Timbuktu. Rose was puzzled as to if that was a real place, and as David confirmed it, Antwon suggested rather loudly that he'd rather take his bride somewhere tropical. Lovestricken and sun-tired, Rose agreed, leaning against him and holding his arm as they walked. Olympia was certain Rose would fall asleep on Antwon's lap as soon as they got back on the train, and when she remarked this to David, he joked that he thought Antwon would be the more likely of the pair to lay their head in the other's lap, though perhaps not for resting purposes.

"Ah- David!"

She swatted his arm for such indecent thoughts, and though Antwon shot her a curious look, she departed without an explanation, heading for the telephone booth at the foot of the station steps. David watched her go with a smile, rolling down his sleeves from above his elbows, where he'd brought them up to allow his forearms, still damp from washing sand off them, to dry. As the heat of the day skated into the mid-warmth of the evening, Olympia dialed home and called in the anticipated time of their arrival for Mr. Carlisle and David stared at her all the while. A hand on his arm startled him, and he turned towards Antwon with a peeved exclamation that went unspoken when he saw his friend's smile.

"I'm surprised," he said, "at how well you and my cousin have been getting on. Pleasantly surprised, of course." He clasped David's hand. "I know I thought something might go wrong, but... you've become such fast friends."

"Mhmm," David replied, employing every ounce of self-control not to glance towards Olympia's reapproach and give away how much he actually adored her. "Friends, that's right."

Antwon chuckled. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you," he said, looking at his cousin like he wanted her to hear, and she smiled, touching him and Rose each on the shoulder.

"Let's go home," she said, and they followed her up the steps to the station, glad to accede.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#band of brothers #olympia bird #olympia bird ficlet #olympia bird 19: summer breeze make me feel fine #band of brothers oc ficlet #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #prose's passion #david webster

[sergeant-spoons]

16. Vindication

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​​​​​ @vintagelavenderskies​​​​​​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​​​​​​ @50svibes​​​​​​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​​​​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​​​​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​​​​​​ @whovian45810​​​​​​​​ @brokennerdalert​​​​​​​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​​​​​​​ @generousdreamlanddestiny​​​​​​​​ @claire-bear-1218​​​​​​​​ @heirsoflilith @itswormtrain​​​​​​​​​

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sunlight under the lip of the door was the first thing Olympia noticed when she was roused the following morning. It would take her another few minutes to comprehend what that meant, though, for a multitude of reasons. The most pressing matter occupying her headspace as she slowly brought herself into the waking world was that of David Webster, shirtless and sinful, holding her in his lap. He was nuzzling kisses into her neck as she stirred, mumbling a good morning. She knew he wasn't fully awake yet, he couldn't be, or he would be saying something rather than breathing her in and sighing happily. She felt her bare back against his equally naked chest and loved being there, loved him, loved the moment for as long as she could-

Which wasn't very long at all, for barely two minutes passed since she noticed the sunshine before the door to the shed nearly burst open and she comprehended that the light outside meant the storm had ended. Olympia yelped as someone jiggled the door handle, startling fully awake, and David at least had the sense to toss over her dress, if not her chemise or brassiere. She gathered those up herself as David scrambled, and a familiar voice called for them to answer and assuage the worries of many.

"Oh, thank God, it's only Fish."

David paused, his shirt halfway over his head. "Who?" he asked from beneath the cloth, his voice slightly muffled.

Olympia, though she would have been glad to stare at him like that all day, bade him hurry up. Once he was adequately clothed (though still quite disheveled), she pushed aside the chair holding the door shut. Jett Fisher burst through and nearly catapulted himself into the tool shelf in his haste. Fixing the flopping brim of his straw hat atop his head, he stared between his mistress and her lover, his eyes wide and his shoulders sagging.

"Miss Bird-"

"You mustn't tell Antwon," she pleaded, leaping forward to seize his hands between her own. "Oh, Fish, you mustn't!"

"Alright, alright," he reassured her, patting her trembling hands, and glanced over her shoulder at David, who came and laid a calming hand upon her shoulder. "He's looking for you, though- and he's not the only one."

"How long were we..." David looked past Fish out the door, and his Adam's apple bobbed as he realized the passage of time. "Shit."

Olympia hiccuped a giggle, nervous. "David?"

"Yes?" 

He was looking at her. She could feel his eyes on the side of her face. She stared at Fish instead and shook her head.

"Nevermind. We should go."

He took her hand as they started out the door, following the groundskeeper, praising their luck that he'd been the one to find them at last. Olympia tried to take a deep breath but realized she couldn't, for her nose was stuffed up, and she frowned, but that gave her a sliver of a headache. She felt the sense of doom weighing on her shoulders the closer they got to the house doubling at the thought that she may have caught a cold from sleeping in the drafty shed after being soaked through. Webster must have, too, then, for he'd had his trousers on when she woke in his lap. She could remember feeling the rough fabric against the smoothness of her bare legs, most particularly how David's hand had lazily come up from sitting on his knee to brush the side of her thigh.

She shivered, and not only from her impending illness.

"He's been in a tizzy looking for you," Fish said as they followed him up the porch steps, "just a warning."

Indeed, as soon as they set foot in the foyer, Antwon appeared, his hair a mess and his hands wrung before his chest. He made for them like a hawk and Olympia flinched when he grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her.

"IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY," he shouted, "WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?!"

"Out," Olympia answered weakly, a state of sense entirely unlike her.

"I WAS FRIGHTENED, YOU HEAR ME?!" He moved on to David and might have throttled him if Rose hadn't wrapped her arms around his waist and gently tugged him backward. "I THOUGHT YOU- Rosie, not now- I THOUGHT YOU HAD DIED!"

"The storm wasn't that bad," David tried to protest, but the fire in Antwon's eyes only grew.

"Wasn't that- YOU TWO ARE THE WORST- Oh, God, Ollie, you're shivering." He stepped back, shaking out his hands almost as fervently as his cousin's whole frame was shuddering, a new chill sweeping over her body. "Rosie, we need hot tea," he instructed, switching his demeanor at once, "and towels and blankets, lots of them."

Rose could be seen mouthing a prayer under her breath as she scampered up the stairs to visit the linen closet.

"Web, go take a hot bath."

"Whatever you say, Tony."

"You're on thin ice, mister."

"... Understood."

David was gone up the stairs so slowly, Olympia wondered if he was waiting for her to hurry after him. Her stomach twisted. As much as she wanted to feel his arms around her, his hands painting reverence across every inch of her body like he had the night before- she was blushing to even think of it -she knew she had no chance. Not with Antwon being, well, Antwon.

"This doesn't mean you're off the hook," he snapped, glaring at each in turn, David at the top of the stairwell and Olympia at the bottom. "Far from it."

"Right," his cousin mumbled, shooting Mrs. Withers a pleading look over his shoulder.

"Ollie, you're going to bed immediately."

"But-"

"Do not-" Antwon glared at her. "-contradict me. You have no ground to stand on. Matter of fact, you're barely still on your feet." He came to her as if meaning to fret over her but thought better of it and waved for Mrs. Withers to take up the duty instead. "Go on, bed. Now."

"It's morning," she whined to her dear cook as she was led up the stairs, and Mrs. Withers only shrugged.

"He's got a point, dear. You've gone pale and red and, worst of all, quiet. You've got to rest."

"Mmm," Olympia responded miserably, and said no more until she was alone with Rose in her bedroom. "We got caught in the storm," she admitted as her maid primped up the heiress' pillows and added an extra blanket to the bed that looked extra welcoming despite Olympia's earlier protests. "With the wet clothing and all... No wonder I'm feeling a little under the weather."

"A little?" Rose frowned. "You've sneezed eight times since I've seen you, miss."

"Only eight? Well, that's good," Olympia said, then proceeded to fall asleep the instant her swimming head hit the pillows.

The next week was a blur of tissues, syrupy medicine Olympia remembered despising as a child and still disliked now, and visits from each member of the staff to check up on her wellbeing. She fell into a pattern of trying to read but giving up within the half-hour for various reasons. Either her head hurt too much to focus, she was uninterested in the story (the novels Antwon picked out for her from her extensive library were not entirely within her own taste), or, most often, the littlest thing reminded her of David and she became lost in the web of thinking about him. Rose and Antwon were the most frequently at her bedside, trading off between caring for her and David, who had also fallen quite ill. The doctor proclaimed it was only a wretched cold, nothing too serious, easily recoverable. Olympia was relieved, especially since anything worse might have brought her parents home, and that would have been an utterly disastrous turn of events.

The silver lining to the whole debacle was that, once Antwon had cooled off and been convinced nothing out of the ordinary had happened between his cousin and his best friend, Olympia took the opportunity to play her favorite game: matchmaker, matchmaker.

"Rose," she said through a sniffle on the first morning she awoke without a fever, "I ought to tell you something."

"Miss Bird, you should be resting your voice," her maid replied, fixing the curtains so they would not let in too much light and aggravate Olympia's head into another ache.

"I've had quite enough of resting," she confessed, and Rose came over, nodding sympathetically.

"Antwon has been rather lonesome at the breakfast table each morning."

"Oh, please tell me he's invited you to sit with him." A pause, and Olympia frowned. "No? Goodness, the man's denser than a fruitcake sometimes."

Rose started to turn the color of her name, and Olympia reached over the sheets to pat her hand.

"He comes in here and he blathers on about how much he likes your face or your laugh or something." She sighed, pretending to be tired of Antwon's half-imagined swooning. "Just last night, he told me he'd like to buy you flowers."

"Really, miss?"

Olympia hummed a note of affirmation, knowing better than to nod her head in her current drained state. "He doesn't know what kind of flowers you like, though. He came close to fretting about it."

"Oh, he shouldn't..." Rose swallowed, tentative. "Miss, would you- could you-"

"Yes?"

"I like daisies," she squeaked, then covered her mouth. 

Olympia waved dismissively at her maid's bashfulness. "Speak freely, Rose, you're just as much a cousin to me now as Antwon is by blood."

Rose gaped for a moment, then composed herself, sitting up a little straighter. "Yes'm."

"Oh, and I was wondering- if I'm to have another picnic, such as the one a few weeks ago, is there any sort of breakfast treat you enjoy the most?"

"Well, miss, I sure do like the macarons, when you get them." She smiled at her hands, clasped on her lap. "The lemon buttercream is my favorite."

"You have good taste." Olympia hid a yawn behind a prim palm. "Would you fill up the water pitcher, please, it's getting close to empty. Ah- on second thought, send Antwon, if you can. I've got an errand that needs running."

"Yes'm," Rose said, leaving the bedroom with a new lightness to her step that made Olympia feel suddenly so much better than any length of bed rest could induce.

Antwon arrived much later than she'd expected, a good twenty-six minutes after Rose had left. He looked slightly muddled in his mind and appearance, as if he'd just woken up.

"Your shirt's on backward," Olympia reminded him, flipping the page of her latest endeavor, then tossed her head against her pillow with a sigh. "Why do you always bring me the Roman biographies? You know I don't like them."

"Because you, as a well-rounded scholar, should brush up on your ancient history." Antwon shot her a raised brow, placing the water pitcher on the nightstand. "You didn't call me in to complain about Cicero, did you?"

"That's the first thing you've got right all morning." She ignored her cousin's unamused look, going on, "Rose mentioned something to me this morning. A few somethings, actually, and I thought we might discuss them."

Antwon seemed caught off-guard, tension stiffening his shoulders although he rolled his neck, pretending nothing was amiss in the slightest. Olympia took his reaction as one of poorly-disguised interest in her dear maid and brightened up.

"I've got a parcel in town I need someone to pick up. It's for Mrs. Withers, she's been lacking a good wooden spoon since hers broke after she went after Fish for stealing one too many apples."

"How does this have anything to do with Rosie-"

"I'm getting to that. While you're downtown, why don't you, say, pick up some flowers?"

Antwon narrowed his gaze. "Ollie."

"Yes?"

"I suppose you want me to ask what kind of flowers, now?"

She pressed her lips together, trying to hide a smile. "That would be preferable, yes."

"Alright, what flowers should I get Rosie?"

"Daises," Olympia replied at once, "and I'm not sure you realize you're doing it, but you keep calling her 'Rosie'."

Antwon tugged at his sleeves. "Don't see why that matters so much," he grumbled, and she swatted his hand.

"If your mission is to seduce my maid, Antwon McCree, I will have your head."

"What! Ollie, you can't be serious."

Her gaze almost became a glare, then. "Serious about what?"

"I could have any girl in this town walking me to her room this very minute-"

"That's a picture I didn't need in my head."

"-and you think I'd just- with Rosie- with Rose-" He threw up his hands. "You are absurd. And naive. Not to mention sick and should be resting-"

"Enough of the resting!" Olympia yelped, then had to squeeze her eyes shut when a flash of pain shot through her head. "Alright, maybe a little more of the resting."

Antwon sighed. "Daises," he said at length, "and what else?"

"Macarons. The lemon buttercream, if you can get them."

"Noted." He crossed to her bedside from where he'd wandered over to the étagère, examining her music boxes. "Package, flowers, treats, and how about I give her a kiss, while I'm at it?"

Olympia set her face in a grimace, pretending that she wasn't delighted at the suggestion. "Don't push your luck, cousin."

"Ollie, you are despicable."

"No, I'm smart." She tapped her temple. "It's a fine, fine line, but the distinction is there, regardless."

The following day, close to teatime, Rose stepped into Olympia's bedroom with such a daze about her she nearly didn't notice her employer had moved from her bed to the chaise lounge by the window. The maid turned about, flushing at her mistake, and brought the tray over to the window as Olympia hummed along to a twittering tune quite familiar to her ears.

"Do you know this song, Rose?" she asked as her maid prepared her tea just the way she liked it.

"No, miss," came the reply, expectedly so since she had only caught the last few notes.

"Mozart's Violin Concerto No.4 in D major, most specifically Andante Cantabile, the second stanza of the piece. Heavily simplified and shortened for the performance of a music box- just two sugars today, thank you, Rose -but Mozart's Andante Cantabile nonetheless."

"It's very pretty, miss."

"I would like to see it in symphony someday." Olympia sipped at her tea, then beckoned to the spare room on the loveseat. "Sit, sit, and tell me what's got you bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this cloudy morning."

"It's Antwon," Rose admitted without a second thought, unable to withhold a smile. "And I suppose I only have you to thank for it, miss."

"No, no, why would that be?"

"He gave me daises," she gasped, "a whole bouquet, and they're so pretty- and the macarons!" A timid shake of the head. "How else could he have known about the lemon buttercream?"

Olympia caught herself mouthing the flavor along with her maid and quickly dredged her involvement in the matter in tea and false innocence. "I only told him what he asked me, you know."

Rose grew flushed. "Then he- then he really meant the kindness?"

Olympia chuckled. "My cousin may be a flirt, but he's the owner of a good heart, that much you can trust."

"I- gosh!" Rose, who had risen from the loveseat to fix her skirt, now sank back down onto it. "A good heart..." 

She looked up, and her fright caught Olympia by surprise.

"You don't think it's wrong, miss? With me being your maid and him your cousin, close enough to the Bird name he's got a hand in the fortune-" She squeaked, covering her mouth. "Oh, miss! I'm sorry!"

Olympia shook her head and rolled her eyes, feigning exasperation. "Go enjoy your daisies and your macarons, Rose, before I change my mind about dismissing any premonitions of you and Antwon."

"Yes'm," Rose quickly agreed, gathering up her apron and carrying the music box over to its rightful perch when she was asked. "Are you feeling better, miss?" she asked, almost so late the question could be taken as off-handish.

"Yes, thank you." Olympia nodded, a gesture she'd been unable to bear just a few days prior. "How's David?"

"He's gone to the library twice, miss," Rose revealed. "I think he's well. He's the one picking your books the last two days, then."

A smile spread across Olympia's lips so quickly she nearly dribbled tea down her chin.

"So that explains the sudden change of heart from Marcus Fulvius Flaccus to Mary Wollstonecraft."

"I... suppose it would, miss."

"In other words," Olympia clarified, "I can stop reading about the politics of frumpy old philosophers from ages and ages ago and enjoy one of the first widely-published works of feminist literature." She held up the garnet cover of A Vindication of the Rights of Woman: with Strictures on Political and Moral Subjects. "I could lend it to you, sometime, if you'd like."

A smile tugged at Rose's lips, and Olympia rose to give her the book right then and there.

"I think you'll find it highly informative."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#band of brothers #olympia bird #olympia bird ficlet #olympia bird 16: vindication #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #david webster #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #hbo war show #prose's passion #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet

[sergeant-spoons]

15. Mauvais Serment

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​ @vintagelavenderskies​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​ @50svibes​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​ @whovian45810​​​ @brokennerdalert​​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​​ @generousdreamlanddestiny​​​ @claire-bear-1218​​​ @heirsoflilith​​​

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The house had become simply too much for Olympia in the four days since that fateful 27th of July, 1942.

The tension that shuttled through those confined corridors was so fierce she could hardly sleep at night. The birds avoided alighting upon her bedroom sill. Music lay absent from the home, not even the twinkling chirps of the mistress of the house's wound boxes. Even Antwon noticed the absence of the turtledove pair he'd grown fond of watching outside the library window. As Olympia set one foot after another down the beaten path toward the lilac field she meant to visit more often, she tried to piece together why the estate seemed so preoccupied with burdensome silence these past few days.

Perhaps it was her parents' phone call from New York, their frequent telegrams with updates on her mother's condition and the doctors' recommendations for further treatment, and the looming chance that the Birds might be coming home much earlier than their usual Thanksgiving visit. David was confused when Olympia mentioned the October holiday and neither could seem to understand one another until Antwon realized the point of their confusion and clarified the holidays were of different delegations in Canada versus the United States. Either way, her mother coming home and meeting David unexpectedly would not be a positive turn of events, a concern shared by all in the household, including the usually untroubled Antwon.

Maybe the pressure in the air stemmed from Mrs. Withers' absence. Her brief vacation was felt by all those in the household: Mr. Sullivan, poking his head in to gather the tea and realizing there would be none today; Miss Rose, seeking to replace the dishtowels and discovering she needn't bother since yesterday's hadn't been used; Fish, able to thieve an apple whenever he so chose but refraining in respect for the matriarch of the kitchen. Even Mr. Carlisle, who did not know the woman well, remarked to Olympia as he drove her to pick up an order from the bookshop that Friday morning that he'd gotten up this misty morning and missed the glass of lemonade the cook consistently put out for him on the dining room table so he could sip on something while he watched the sunrise. So it could surely be that, the whole Mrs.-Withers-being-elsewhere state of the house.

Or, most likely, it was Olympia and David, David and Olympia. Glances across the table at meals, stalling so long at teatime they had to delay supper a full hour or more, catching each other humming the same song back and forth. Antwon's looks that ranged from suspicious to indifferent to amused. Miss Rose pretending not to see them walking in and out of rooms, feigning restlessness while indeed searching for each other without always meaning to. David seemed to be everywhere; they crossed paths with such frequency, Olympia couldn't help but wonder if they were complicit in the fraying of the other's nerves. Or maybe it was only her, and she was imagining the glances he shot her way, unable to greet her with more than a brief tenderness, one of them always on the way to some other necessity or accompanied by Antwon.

Olympia had meant to take this walk to avoid a certain topic of attention (and/or contention, depending on how you saw it). Nevertheless, here she was, picking lilacs and crooning 'This Can't Be Love' in fragmented verses and half-remembered choruses to herself and doing precisely what she'd set out not to do: think about David Webster. Discontent, she ceased her humming and studied the stem of a particularly tall flower. Purple and pretty and pleasing to the eyes and nose. She took a long whiff of its familiar, dainty scent and wondered at the process that took petals like these and transformed them into the sweet-smelling bars of soap she stocked every bathroom in the house with. She could never do something like that; she was certain she lacked the necessities of patience and creativity for the craft.

It was only at the first rumbling, tumbling crack of thunder that drew the young woman out of her deep thoughts, startling her so harshly she nearly toppled to the ground. Her toes pushed up against the very tip of her soil-dusted Oxfords and she brought her heel back as she looked up. Dark clouds swarmed every inch of the sky, from Eastern horizon to Western and Northern to Southern, too. The basket of flowers fell from her slackened fingers, finding the ground with a soft thud that was challenged hardly an instant later by a second sky-boom. She clutched her hat with both hands, gasping into the wind as it swelled- hadn't Mr. March's Farmer's Almanac mentioned storm season swooping in at the change of the month, from the midst of summer to the last of it? She'd have to pay more credence to the thin little thing next time he enthusiastically passed it to her, swearing up and down its weather predictions were spot on.

"Olympia!"

She turned around as fast as her feet would allow her to, and there, at the edge of the lilacs, leaping over the fence with the bound of a hound pursuing a fox, was David. Tension snapped through the air, peaking as lightning zapped the horizon. Its magnetism crackled through the air and seemed to shorten the breadth of the meadow. David reached Olympia so quickly she nearly forgot to notice her own legs had burst into motion and she'd left her basket behind. Her hat started to blow again and she seized its brim, no longer caring if it remained on her head so long as it stayed with her somehow. David grabbed it from her and held it firmly against his hip, the side opposite to her, and she felt his fingers taking hold of hers with the security and strength of a padlock.

They ran toward the fence. David slowed, reaching to give Olympia a boost, but she was already half over the wooden beams. He leaped down beside her and they wasted no time in resuming their flight as well as the clasp of their fingers. Hearts racing, they ran like there was another phone call awaiting them in the house, though this time, Olympia felt as if she could keep going forever with no end in sight. What it would be, to reach the very horizon with David's hand in hers, dashing and sailing and flying. It began to rain before long, a drizzle that soon matured into a shower, and when it started to pour, Olympia wanted to slow down to clear the droplets from her eyelashes but did not dare.

They made it to the nearest shelter, a toolshed near to the road and little else, their arrival marked by the loudest cacophony of thunder yet. David tried the door twice to little avail as Olympia clung to his side. She took her hat back so he could focus on the handle- finicky even in dry weather -and pressed herself to his side, adrenaline speeding through her every vein.

"It's locked!" he cried, stepping back as he ran his hands through his sopping hair. The lightning flashed and Olympia pulled him into a desperate kiss. She could feel his hands meet her hips, his thumbs pinching the sides of her dress, and trembled so violently the breath within her lungs nearly expired before its time. Her fingers wrapped halfway around his forearms, her lips pressed to his. The strength of the two touches prevailed in her kiss. He loved her in that instant, she knew it, and they both forgot within the events of the next three seconds: the heavens resounded, Olympia gasped, David kicked open the door with newfound strength, and they rushed inside the toolshed.

Oh my god, cried Olympia's thoughts, nearly loud enough to drown out the storm as David forced the door shut against the wind, oh my god, I kissed him. We kissed. Oh my-

Before she could pacify her wrenching breath, he was before her again, arms around her back this time, his lips in the same place as before. His kiss was searing, a welcoming heat as opposed to the chill of her wet clothes. She dropped her hat on the well-trodden dirt floor and backed up as he urged her to. The rim of a table met her hands, feeling backward so she would not fall, and she eagerly aided him in pushing off any unwanted accessories. He urged her up onto its edge and she was glad to oblige, parting her legs so he could stand between them. His hands ran up her arms, then back down, and she whimpered into his mouth, wanting him closer.

"Should I," he panted against her jaw as he nipped there once or twice, "put a chair under the lock?"

"Yeah," she agreed, pawing at his soaked shirt, "wind's pretty strong."

He left her for only a short moment, wrenching the squat chair from the other side of the table around so quickly he nearly snapped off two of its six backing rungs. Propping it under the handle, his chest heaved and she watched him discard his shirt as he came back over to her, dropping it right beside her hat, that which had concaved due to the excess of water it had taken on in their time outside. The storm continued to rage, but Olympia was much more captivated by the thunder in David's eyes. He returned to her as swiftly as he had gone, his hands pushing the sides of her skirt up past her knees. Her thighs bristled with goosebumps in anticipation.

"You good?" he asked against her collarbone, asking her so much more than just the simple word. Are you okay? Do you want this? Do you want me? How's the storm, too loud? Are you cold? Should we stop? Do you want to love me? Do you already?

The look in his eyes when he drew back for a second, awaiting an answer, told her his thoughts were directly in sync with her own:

We need to talk about this but there's no way in Heaven or Hell I'm giving up this chance.

"Oh, yes," she promised as she cupped his fine jaw in her hands and kissed the corner of his mouth. "Completely good."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#olympia bird #olympia bird ficlet #band of brothers #prose's passion #david webster #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #olympia bird 15: mauvais serment

[sergeant-spoons]

18. Linen Lovers

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​​ @chaosklutz​​​​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​​​ @50svibes​​​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​​​ @whovian45810​​​​​ @brokennerdalert​​​​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​​​​​ @claire-bear-1218​​​​​​ @heirsoflilith​​​​​​ @itswormtrain​​​​​​ @actualtrashpanda​​​

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Just as the summer was in full swing, romance behind closed doors abounded in the Bird mansion. In the week since their last encounter in Antwon's bathroom, Olympia and David had become quite adept at their sneaking around, spending most of their time together in solitude. Olympia's cousin, by some miracle, had not taken up suspicion. Perhaps it was some other preoccupation keeping his attention, perhaps he was falsely blind, Olympia couldn't tell. Either way, she wasn't about to risk changing his mind. She was so happy in David's arms that she would have to be a fool to jeopardize the security of his embrace. For the first time all summer, everything seemed well between everyone. The staff were at ease, Antwon was surprisingly naive, and Olympia and David were enjoying each other's company, as lovers are oft to do. She was comfortable in their secret relationship, and so was he, though they hadn't bothered to affix a title to their enduring dalliance.

It was cool in the library that afternoon, thanks to the special ventilation Olympia's father had installed when they were first compiling her growing collection. She was about eight or nine when he revealed the library to her, Olympia recalled as she passed a vent and felt a delicious breeze of cool air tickle her bare ankles. It still seemed a miracle, of sorts, a haven, where her mother didn't often think to venture and the books never seemed to dwindle in opportunity or enumeration. The carpet sagged under the pressure of her sandal sole, and Olympia turned the cusp of the shelf to find a most pleasant scene. David sat on the edge of the carpet adjacent to the window nook, waving a string of twine about while Earl Grey leaped after it, his chest vibrating with his delight. 

"Aha! And- this way!" David was saying softly to the cat as he twirled the twine this way and that. Earl Grey jumped up on his shoulder, then, and nearly bowled him over, attempting to steal the twine from his hand that way. He succeeded only in toppling back onto the carpet, meowing his distaste, and Olympia tried to muffle her laughter to little avail. David looked up with an almost sheepish expression, and Olympia's smile became a little bashful as her heart went all aflutter. Wasn't he just a gem?

"Hello, beautiful," he said, a smile blossoming across his face when she came over and kissed the swoosh of brown locks styled atop his head.

"Hello, yourself," she replied, scooping up her cat, and led her lover to recline on the window nook.

They sat side by side at first, but it didn't feel right. Shortly, Olympia enjoyed David's arm around her back, her legs tucked up on the bench, and Earl Grey content to rest on the cushion by her shins.

"Last time I was in here, I borrowed Sad Cypress," David remarked, nodding toward the bookshelves where the Agatha Christies were kept. "Finished it this morning."

"How did you like it?"

"It was..." He thought for a minute. "It was more emotional than other Christies I've read. Still an excellent detective fiction, though."

Olympia smiled, leaning her head upon his shoulder. "My thoughts exactly."

David reached to pet Earl Grey, who began to purr, and Olympia sighed happily.

"Do you think it will rain?"

David sat up a bit, and Olympia turned her head to meet his gaze. Her breathing became fainter, and she felt his hand on her waist like the touch of ceaseless fire.

"Rain?" she asked, but they could both hear the strain in her voice to keep to polite conversation when he was so near.

"Olympia," he whispered, "please just kiss me."

She did, and slowly, she turned so she leaned upon her knees rather than her back. David's hands were creeping lower as their kisses became slower and deeper, and Olympia wanted it all- all that would have to wait due to the footsteps approaching around the shelves, the door braking against the floor from a recent opening. David scrambled to his feet, and in doing so, allowed Olympia to topple over backward. Dizzied but still alert, she rolled onto her back and seized Earl Grey. He, complacent, reclined upon her stomach as she stroked his back. David posed as if he were examining the books, but his gaze kept flicking back toward her almost protectively.

Miss Rose poked her head around the shelf, and Olympia relaxed, daring to sigh in quite obvious relief. The maid glanced between her employer and houseguest and clasped her hands neatly before her.

"You have something pink-ish smeared on your mouth and chin, Mr. Webster," she said politely before leaving them be, shutting the library door firmly behind her.

Olympia sat up, Earl Grey slipping onto her lap with a mild meow of lazy protest, and when she caught David's eye, they began to laugh. He sat back down when she made room, his apology for letting her fall cut off halfway by her kiss.

"It's all cushions here," she reassured him, but he still insisted on sitting her comfortably up against him, secure against another tumble.

"I don't suppose your lipstick might be the culprit of that pink-ish mark?" he teased into the kiss she bestowed upon him, and they laughed together.

"I think the color suits you," she replied, hardly noticing Earl Grey jumping to the floor, and David flicked his brow, a glint of desire in his eyes that made Olympia flush and smile.

"I wouldn't mind you smudging that pink elsewhere," he suggested, drawing her upon his lap, and she hummed against his neck, indulging.

It was just after teatime, taken on the veranda with Olympia, David, Mrs. Withers, and Mr. March (celebrating his 63rd birthday), when the heiress went searching for her elusive cat. He liked time on his own as the afternoon waned, but he could be found sleeping more often than exploring. She wanted to keep his drowsy company while she indulged in the latest college magazines, brought in from town by Mr. Carlisle that morning. As she searched, reading in hand, she bumped into him and they spoke briefly on the matter of visiting the country club this weekend for the golfing. Her chauffeur expressed his lack of knowledge on directions to the place but affirmed he would educate himself promptly. Satisfied, Olympia bid him a pleasant evening and continued her search.

She turned down the next hall and opened a closet, knowing Earl Grey was fond of laying on the sheets, when he could sneak in through a half-open door. Although her cat had not gotten into the linens this time, the closet was not empty, and Olympia stifled a squeak of alarm to discover Antwon and Rose tangled up in a tryst. She shut the door as quickly and quietly as she could manage, certain they'd noticed her intrusion, and tried to blink away the intimate sight. Her cheeks felt hot, and as she patted them with a cooler hand, Mr. Sullivan passed by, grumbling to the heavens above how the house kept several spare bedrooms in this house and the use of a closet was just uncouth. Stifling a giggle, Olympia hurried on her way, wandering the halls as she tried to decide what to do about her recent discovery.

It was hardly a minute later when she encountered David, and as he smiled to see her, she felt her chest warm with affection.

"I found your cat," he declared, lifting up an apathetic Earl Grey with furry arms outstretched.

"And I," Olympia replied, biting back a grin, "found your best friend locked in a passionate embrace with my maid."

David's eyebrows shot high on his forehead as he let Earl Grey down onto the oval carpet. "Say more right now."

She giggled into her hand. "I opened a closet, because I- well, I was looking for you, silly boy." The last sentiment, she directed at her cat, rubbing his side against her leg as he purred. "I didn't find him," she said, looking back to David, "but I did find Antwon and Rose in flagrante delicto."

David gave a low whistle. "I would have never expected..."

"Really?" Olympia stifled a laugh. "They've been making eyes at each other for weeks."

He narrowed his gaze playfully at her. "And I don't suppose you've been encouraging them?"

She swayed innocently. "Perhaps."

He took her by the arms and pulled her close enough for her to feel his soft sigh upon her lips. Her smile grew, and he winked.

"What do you say we find our own closet?"

That evening at the dinner table was, at first, an amusingly tense affair. Olympia did her best not to smirk and snicker, but it was difficult when Rose steadily flushed the same hue as her name, Antwon kept adjusting his pants every minute or so, and David kept catching Olympia's eye and trying not to laugh. Eventually, she patted down her napkin and cleared her throat, announcing her impending opinion, and all eyes turned upon the heiress.

"I'm happy for you two," she decided, "but I must say, to quote our dear butler, we have spare bedrooms in this house, for heavens' sake."

David choked on his sip of water, and Olympia would have shot him a worried look had she not been so entertained by Rose somehow turning even redder and Antwon jabbing his tongue with his fork.

"Ollie- I- ah, Christ-"

Olympia reached across the table and patted her cousin's hand. Shooting Rose a very obvious wink, she smiled, and all present parties relaxed. She was only teasing, of course, she meant her gladness for their relationship wholeheartedly. Antwon even appeared grateful, and though she felt a twinge of irritation to know her approval would not likely be mirrored, she returned his nod and smile. David bumped her foot with his under the table and when she caught his eye, she appreciated how he looked proud of the way she'd handled the situation. Mrs. Withers brought out an extra pitcher of cream with the pound cake and strawberries for dessert, and once everyone had eaten their fill, they were content to see the meal finished in peace.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#band of brothers #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #olympia bird #olympia bird ficlet #olympia bird 18: linen lovers #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #prose's passion #david webster

[sergeant-spoons]

13. Son of a Beech

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​ @vintagelavenderskies​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​ @50svibes​​ @tvserie-s-world​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​ @whovian45810​​ @brokennerdalert​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​ @generousdreamlanddestiny​​ @claire-bear-1218​​ @heirsoflilith​​

Dedicated to the effervescent @vintagelavenderskies​ for being such an incredible friend. Love u Krysta 💕💕

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Elementary, my dear Watson," Olympia mouthed, the corners of her mouth quirking up at that familiar phrase. The sandals upon her feet made soft imprints in the soil, treading the path she knew so very well. Her eyes tracked the pages in her hands rather than the soil at her toes. Mayhaps she would have noticed a second set of footprints leading her on if she'd removed herself from the book long enough to glance. A page turned. Sherlock Holmes rocked back in his chair and lit up a smoke. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it, he said to his partner. I confess, my dear fellow, that I am very much in your debt.

Olympia hummed a note, invested. The Hound of the Baskervilles was, by most accounts, the best Holmes novel to boot. This was certainly not her first cracking open of its red spine, nor her second, or even her third. Still, she'd brought out the clever thing in the hopes of Mr. Holmes' intelligence and Dr. Watson's wisdom rubbing off on her. Whatever words she'd employ would have to be the perfect ones or she just might make the whole situation worse. Certain things must be said to Antwon and others to Webster. It was a tricky sort of business, communication. Olympia drew her upper lip between her teeth, deliberating-

And walked directly into the broad trunk of a beech tree.

Stumbling back, she screwed up her face, trying to reorient herself. Laughter met her ears and she felt her cheeks heating up. Craning her neck upward, she allowed a short sigh. Of course, the one tree she just had to collide with would be the same David Webster had found a perch in. He grinned down at her, his legs swinging nonchalantly from the thicket of branches he'd near-concealed himself in.

"You know, this is the second time I've found you up in a tree."

Webster grinned. "Yeah, but it's the first time you've joined me."

Olympia's face betrayed her by breaking into a smile. She shook her head to herself, tucked her book into the sash tight around her waist, and began to climb. Halfway up, she found her progress stopped by the loss of flexibility the Holmes novel applied. Webster beckoned for her to hand it up, and so she did. He settled it in the safe haven of his lap, then bent over himself, reaching down. Helping her up to his roost, he watched her with that unfaltering smile. She nearly lost her footing, enraptured by his gaze. He swooped her up onto the branch beside his own, smartly distributing their weight. She nestled herself against the trunk and looked out over the forest.

"You did pick a nice view," she admitted. He surveyed her as if planning something, and indeed, he soon stepped onto the branch about three feet beneath her at an angle. Leaning against the one she'd picked for a seat, he bounced on his branch. She grabbed his shoulders instinctively and when he smirked, she realized he'd meant to spook her. With a huff, she started to look away, but he wrapped his arm around her waist and she gave pause.

"Olympia?"

"Yes?"

"I never took you for a Holmes fan."

"Oh." She tipped her head, wishing he'd asked something else. "Sorry to disappoint."

"Disappoint?" He scoffed. "No, no- you? Never."

She turned back to him, her brow arisen. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

He cleared his throat. "Well..."

"Was it coerced?"

He blinked at her. "... My opinion of you?" Utterly perplexed, he studied her face for answers. "No... no- what?"

"The oath." Olympia turned her chin up, trying her best to retain a semblance of composure despite her skipping heart and pinkened complexion. "Would you consider it... coerced?"

"Ah." Webster turned his head aside, scanning the sky. His upward gaze gave her hope. "I never considered..." He looked back to her and she wished he would just understand without all the miserable business of talking. "Yeah, actually. Yes. It was."

"Mhmm." She nodded slowly, trying to ignore the glimmer in his eye.

"And you're asking because..?"

She tilted her head this way and that. "Oh, no reason."

For once, she was happy when he didn't believe her.

"Olympia."

"David."

His breath was steady until she uttered his name. They both noticed. She laid her hand upon his cheek, watching his face for some sign, any sign. His arm around her waist tightened, secure. She was sure he would kiss her, any moment now-

"Miss Bird! Miss Bird!"

The duo broke away from the moment, gasping as if everything had happened when, really, nothing at all had. Fish, that groundskeeper with the most terrible timing, ran up to the tree, waving both his hands. If he'd been a few years younger, Olympia would have bet he'd be jumping up and down, too. The Hounds of the Baskervilles nearly fell out of David's lap, but he caught it.

"Sonuva-"

"Miss Bird! And- and Mr. Webster? Come down, and come quickly!"

"What? What is it?"

David started down the tree, then thought better of it and instead helped Olympia down first. They hurried along, always touching, the book bounding between them.

"Your father's ringing the phone off the hook-" Fish gripped at his overalls, skittish. "-your mother's had an accident, she's in the hospital, and-"

He needn't have said more for Olympia to burst into a run. David kept time with her, his arms swinging as they dashed through the woods. Fish lagged behind, half-senseless from his run to retrieve them, and Olympia bade him catch his breath. He bent over his knees, panting, and waved them along. The trees grew thinner and they burst out onto the road. Olympia's chest burned like the bellows stirring up a fire in the hearth at the wrong time of year. David stumbled over a root and she grabbed his arm, trembling, for her sudden stalling had dizzied her. He looked to her, took in the fright upon her features, and grabbed the book from her hand to replace it with his steady grip.

They ran like that all the way back to the house. Bursting into the foyer, they listened for some voice to hail them. When one did- Antwon's -they followed it into the parlor, chests heaving, where Mr. Sullivan waited with the phone, dour-faced, Antwon paced nearby, his scarf askew, and Miss Rose looked on, her lithe fingers pale from how tightly she clasped her hands before her. Olympia, shaken, hurried to the phone. She hugged her butler on an impulse, did not mind when he was too late to return the fleeting embrace, and took the receiver when he handed it to her, a faint flush crossing his nose. She took a deep breath and tugged at her skirt as if it would remove the stares of her compatriots and the wild emotions cluttering her chest and head.

"Father?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#olympia bird #olympia bird ficlet #olympia bird 13: son of a beech #band of brothers #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #prose's passion #david webster

[sergeant-spoons]

14. Receiver

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​ @vintagelavenderskies​​ @wexhappyxfew​​ @50svibes​​ @tvserie-s-world​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​ @whovian45810​​ @brokennerdalert​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​ @generousdreamlanddestiny​​ @claire-bear-1218​​ @heirsoflilith​​

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"Father?"

"Olympia! Oh, thank God, I was starting to think you'd had an accident of your own on the way to the phone-"

"Richard!" A scolding voice could be heard ever-so-faintly in the background. Mr. Bird clacked his teeth, masking his displeasure, and Olympia was soothed just a little to hear the sound she'd been familiar with since childhood.

"Sorry, dear." Back at the receiver: "I'm glad we got ahold of you, Ollie. Where've you been? I was surprised to hear from Sully you weren't tucked away in your library."

"Well, I was out walking-"

"-with a book," they chorused together. Olympia's father chuckled as his daughter felt her uneasy heart begin to resume a steady beat.

"I'm glad you're here now. Er, on the line, I mean."

"Oh, yes, yes. What happened? I could hear Mother there, so she's not badly hurt, then?"

"No, she'll be alright."

"Good. Good!" Olympia leaned against the counter with a long sigh. "Still, she's in the hospital..?"

"Oh, yes. Down for the count, but we're lucky it's only an ankle and a knee, not both, or her arms."

"So what exactly happened?"

"Oh, ah, well, the staircase back home caught her by surprise, and..." His voice came muffled, as if he'd cupped his hand over the receiver. "She was a little tipsy in more than just her shoes, if you know what I mean."

"Richard! Richard, what are you telling the daughter about me?"

"Nothing, dear. Just hushing myself since the door's open, and all."

Olympia could almost picture her father shaking his head just slightly, not so much that her mother would take notice but just enough to relieve himself of the urge to toss his head up toward the ceiling and utter a long, unforgiving groan.

"Oh, well that's hardly to be believed- give me that. Yes, Richard, the phone, what else would I-" Her mother's words faded between clearer and more distant, as if she was trying to tug the receiver out of her husband's hands. "Just let me- I want to tell her. Yes, Richard, don't you think that's my right? Exactly. Thank you.”

"Mother?"

"Oh, chickie!"

Olympia winced as her mother's voice screeched through the line, always much too loud at first. Not that she ever quieted, her daughter simply got used to it.

"How did you get a phone into your room?"

"Oh, we just had them bring it in," her mother said as if were the easiest thing in the world. "The cord's stretched down the hall, but they don't really need to walk this way while we're talking, do they?"

Olympia bit the inside of her lip to keep herself from uttering a disagreement and starting a dispute that would inevitably take up much more time than the doctors and nurses could spare.

"I'm sorry to hear you're hurt, Moth-"

"Oh, that old staircase! I've been meaning to carpet it for ages, I just never remembered, with all the functions and benefits I've been arranging for your father. You got my invitation to the ball in November, didn't you?"

Olympia seized every ounce of her self-control to respond in the affirmative instead of tossing the phone to Antwon and letting him deal with his aunt's laughable structure of prioritization.

"Oh, excellent. Right, the staircase. I was on the third floor- in the penthouse, of course, we were at home for the evening-"

Why, of course, Olympia mouthed, closing her eyes to elude an approaching frown.

"-and I'd had a glass of champagne to celebrate your second cousin Thomas' engagement- you remember him from Christmas a few years back, don't you?"

Was this the Thomas that shattered my first tea set when I was seven and you said 'boys will be boys' or the Thomas that called our navy 'no better than toy tin soldiers in a bucket' and argued over it all throughout supper and then enlisted in the same two weeks later?

"Yes, Mother, I remember," was all that could be heard through the hospital phone wire down south in NYC. 

"Good, good. Well, I'd had a glass- one glass, Richard, and I wanted a bite from the kitchen, so I was off to speak to the cook-"

"And you fell?"

"Olympia!"

Her daughter visibly winced.

"What have I told you about interruptions?"

"Not to make them," she responded with no shortage of weariness that her mother miraculously missed.

"That's right. Anyway, I fell, because of these silly new heels! They're all the rage here in New York, but I quite think I should call up the ladies and caution them of the dangers. But I won't mention it to the help. They can't afford things like this, anyway."

Then maybe you should pay them more is what Olympia thought while forcing a noncommital "Mhmm" as her response.

"Yes, I'll call my little friends-" The wives of her husband's business partners, that is, who were all much less cordial to each other than friends would ever dare. "-and give them a strong word of warning."

"That's an admirable cause, Mother."

"I won't stop wearing the things, of course, until they go out of fashion." A breathy laugh. "I should hope that day comes soon, though not before darling Penny trips. You know how clumsy she is, don't you? Would be a pity if she-" A bit of tussle. "Oh, Richard, I'm only joking- what do you mean, sounds like a threat? You're being ridiculous- yes, you are! Go out in the hall- go on, get! Let me talk to the daughter in peace."

Olympia looked down at her heel-less sandals, dirt caked upon their soles, and tried not to sigh. 

"So how have you been, chickie?"

"You're in the hospital and you're asking about me?" Olympia blushed, surprised. Had this erroneous fall resituated her mother's priorities? "That's-"

"Oh, I'm sure you're just fine," Mrs. Bird cut her off. "I, for one, went to see 'Watch on the Rhine' on Broadway yesterday evening..."

Ah. And there went her daughter's hopes, dashed. Still, she squared her shoulders and kept on with the patience of an iron gate.

"Olympia? Olympia, are you listening to me?" There was the sharpness in her shrill voice that made the younger of the pair turn her face toward the wall to conceal a wince.

"Of course, Mother. You were saying about the show?"

"Oh, yes- my goodness! Much too political for my tastes. Now, that production of ‘As You Like It’- it's a Shakyfruit, isn't it?"

"Shakespeare, Mother."

"That's what I said! Well, the show was simply marvelous! I've seen it twice- what a classic. I do wish you would have come along with us. You would have enjoyed it."

"You know I don't like the big cities, Mother."

"Oh, phoey. You're a Bird, you should be a socialite, not moping about the old country place." A poorly-stifled giggle. "Haven't all those books bored you yet?"

Olympia hesitated a beat too long before replying, "No, Mother," and was quickly met with a tidal wave of oh-chickies and come-to-the-citys and there's-plenty-of-eligible-young-bachelors-here-of-the-upper-crusts before her father, the blessed man, usurped the receiver from his wife's clutch.

"Olympia?"

"Yes, Father?" Her posture, steadily stiffening, relaxed. It was so lovely to hear his kindly voice after her mother's incessant demands that she found herself blinking away a tear.

"Your mother will be just fine. She'll rest up and be back on her feet in a few weeks or so. Take care of yourself, alright?"

"I wi-"

Before she could finish the promise, the line went dead, and the phone went slack in Olympia's hand. She pinched the cord before the receiver could hit the floor and stared at it, feeling the eyes on her that had hardly abandoned their attention amidst the call snapping back to her with a purpose. She brought her head up slowly, knowing she must be strong for those in her care and her confidence. Mrs. Withers had appeared during the call and now stood at the back of the room, rubbing Fish's back. The groundskeeper clutched his cap to his chest, pale. Mr. Sullivan stepped back into the room with a mug of water and passed it silently to Olympia, gently touching her elbow to remind her to uphold the grace expected of her in this troubling time. She cleared her throat and, hating the sound, paused another second or two before beginning.

"Mother- Mrs. Bird -will be just fine."

A sigh of relief swept through the room, silent but as tangible as a tsunami.

"She took a tumble, and her ankle and knee are, ah..."

"Down for the count?" David supplied, and Olympia did not allow herself to look at him lest she blush and alert the more astute in the room to the call of her heart.

"Yes, down for the count. She'll heal up soon, though. Wouldn't want to miss any of her beloved dinner functions."

Those gathered began to slowly disperse, the news percolating in their uplifted thoughts. Antwon stepped up to his cousin, turning half-aside from the rest of the room.

"Was that a hint of bitterness I heard?"

Olympia scoffed, rubbing at her right temple. "From me? Never. Not like she enjoys flittering about the upper crust every evening Father will allow it more than returning any of my letters."

"Makes me wonder why you even bother to write."

"I've decided," she decreed, well-aware of David pretending not to eavesdrop, "that I won't, anymore. And if she complains, I'll simply say it's her own fault."

Antwon studied her. "No, you won't. You'll comply."

She wilted, her chin nearly hitting her collarbone as it fell. The only thing that could bring Olympia Bird to her knees was Cecelia C. Bird, and both the heiress and her cousin knew it well.

"You're right," she agreed softly, "that's exactly what I'll do."

David stepped up to them, gently brushing his hand across Olympia's arm in the best comfort he could offer while in the presence of their oath-enforcer. Antwon hugged his cousin, his sigh grazing her ear.

"At least she's in New York..."

And not here, the conversers completed grimly in their respective thoughts, even the one who knew very little of the woman in question.

"Well-" Antwon clapped his companions on their shoulders. "-I'm off to pour a glass of scotch. Care to join me, Ollie? Web?"

Olympia fell into step beside him, reaching behind her head to fix her hair ribbon, that which came mostly undone in her mad dash from the woods to the house. David followed them as easily as if his presence was meant to complete a trifecta. At least Antwon seemed to have forgotten his fight with his cousin the previous day. Olympia resolved to do the same for the sake of peace.

"I could use a drink right now," Olympia mumbled, and though she would have preferred a hug or a held hand from David, the sympathy radiating off of him like rays from the sun was enough to ease her cares, if only for an afternoon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#olympia bird #olympia bird ficlet #olympia bird 14: receiver #prose's passion #david webster #band of brothers #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction

[sergeant-spoons]

12. Staffing Suppositions

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​​ @vintagelavenderskies​​​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​​​ @50svibes​​​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​​​ @whovian45810​​​​​ @brokennerdalert​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​​

​~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Miss Bird, it appears the estate has an unexpected guest."

Olympia sat up from her slouched position on the parlor sofa that she nearly toppled off of it entirely. Her hands, however, remained steady on her current fascination, inherently opposed to damaging such a precious object. Not that this particular work wasn't replaceable, there were thousands more copies to be bought of it, and it wasn't particularly sentimental to the budding heiress; it was more the principle of the thing. What kind of bookworm would she be if she willingly brought harm upon the very things she swore to adore? Placing the novel carefully on the end table, she rose and patted down her skirt.

"Miss," her butler greeted her as she passed into the foyer.

"Mr. Sullivan, please, you've known me since I was very young."

"And your parents much longer," he replied without a thought, the response unchanging from the hundreds of other times she'd made the request.

"There's no need for that."

Again, the customary, "Your mother would disagree," and they had arrived at the usual impasse.

"Who is it? Do you recognize them?"

"I believe it is your neighbor, miss."

"Mr. March? Really?"

Olympia hustled to the door and peered through the stained glass. Indeed, onward came the man whose demeanor and outlook upon the world as a whole was much brighter indeed than the month of his namesake. He bore a bouquet, gripped by all ten fingers, and his hat tipped forward upon his balding head almost in shyness. Olympia squeaked outright and stepped back, waving her hands as if she were clapping without allowing her hands to collide.

"Rose!" she hollered, and her maid came scampering down the stairs, each light click of her kitten heels matching a quarter of Mr. March's ambling stride.

"Yes'm?"

"Could you see if Mrs. Withers is in the kitchen?"

"Yes'm."

"I have good reason to think she has a gentleman caller!" Olympia declared, although Mr. Sullivan did not care a lick and Miss Rose was already gone from earshot. Realizing that to appear at the door so readily would imply that she'd been watching him come up the path, she tiptoed back into the parlor, ignorant of her butler's stiff apathy.

Two knocks on the door, slow and steady, and before Olympia's backward momentum had concluded, she reversed her course and hopped her way back to Mr. Sullivan as he drew upon the handle.

"Mr. March!" she chirped, entirely missing how the older man startled to see her appear so swiftly she may as well have been a ghost. "What a pleasure. Do come in."

Nodding and mumbling greetings, he stepped through the doorframe and politely wiped his boots on the mat. Two, then three, stems of the flowers in his hands snapped with the force of his grip. Olympia patted his wrists and he relaxed, offering her a modest glance of thanks. Her smile broadened and she made no attempt to secure verbal gratitude. His presence was more than enough to improve her mood, soured up until his arrival by her argument with her cousin the previous day. 

"Missus Bird-"

"Oh, sir, 'Miss Bird' is fine," she hastily assured.

He coughed, then nodded, a smile beginning to appear on his weathered lips. Olympia surmised it had been some time since another had called him 'sir'. 

"Yes'm."

"How may I help you this fine morning?"

"Well, ah, you see, ma'am..."

Mr. March removed his hat from his head and held it to his chest.

"I bet your pardon, miss. It's been a long time since I was in my prime."

"Why, I never would have guessed you'd left it!"

He brightened up at that, claiming a sliver of confidence. "I'd like to speak to your cook. If it wouldn't be too much trouble." He shifted his feet on the tile. "Ah, ma'am."

"Not at all, not at all." 

She took him lightly by the elbow and guided him down the hall, passing by Miss Rose on their way. She offered a small smile at their houseguest and a brief nod to her employer, reassuring that the person they sought did indeed inhabit her usual commode.

"Mrs. Withers?" Olympia called as they came to the swinging doors of the kitchen. Sweet smells drifted from within, though nothing too fragrant, denoting a lack of current cookery. "Someone is here to see you."

"Oh! Just a moment, dear."

"Alright." 

Olympia stepped so she was facing Mr. March. He swallowed, his face gone newly pale, and she wrapped her small, strong hands around his broad, wearied wrists.

"Breathe."

They inhaled together and smiled as they exhaled.

"Come in!"

"Good luck," she whispered, her hand gently nudging her neighbor forward through the doors.

"Not that you'll need it," she added mostly to herself, watching him go.

"Mr. March."

The footsteps of both parties stilled.

"Miss- Miss Withers."

Olympia laid her hand over her mouth to stifle a delighted giggle. She knew for a fact it had been years since anyone had called her beloved cook any younger epitaph than 'Mrs'. She had insisted on the moniker although she was not a married woman, certain it would be the default for address anyhow, so why not confirm it.

"Can I help you?"

The rustling of stalks and petals. Olympia could easily picture her neighbor pushing forth the bouquet with the propulsion of a cannonball launched from its hefty port. A stumbled step, more swishing collisions of light leaves, a muttered apology; that was Mrs. Withers catching and receiving the gift, then Mr. March expressing his grief for its poor presentation.

"They're beautiful."

"They're for you."

"They are?"

"Yes." He cleared his throat. "Pretty flowers for a pretty woman."

"Oh. Oh!"

Goodness gracious, they're hopeless.

Miss Rose's tip-tapping shoes tried to make an entrance into the kitchen, but a hand on their wearer's sleeve brought them back several steps. Olympia held her finger to her lips before her maid could say anything. Rose's eyes widened and she nodded slowly.

"Fish," she disclosed in a whisper, "wanted an apple. He skipped breakfast, chasing off the squirrels from the mulberry patch. Again."

"He can wait another minute or two," Olympia assured, then stealthily leaned back against the wall beside the door, Rose cautiously following her lead after a beat.

"Friday?"

"Yes. Or Saturday. Or Sunday." He chuckled in the fashion of an old man who may have seemed awkward in his youth but could now be seen as naught but endearing. "Any of those evenings. Or- or all of them."

Miss Rose beamed so wide her teeth gleaned in the light cast over the curvature of the abbreviated door. Olympia had little doubt her own countenance bore a similar expression.

"Friday will do. I'll have to ask for the evening off..."

"Your, um, your employer- Miss Bird, that is- oh, what am I saying, of course you know who I mean-"

They laughed softly together.

"She..?"

"She wouldn't have much want to say no, I think."

"Because she chased you in here faster than a fleeing jackrabbit or because she's been eavesdropping all the while?"

Olympia's cheeks turned pink and Miss Rose leaped backward, frightfully embarrassed. She slipped on the rug laid out upon the hall, the same one she'd vacuumed just this morn, and was saved from toppling to the floor only by the man they called Fish stepping forth, arms out. He righted her and raised an eyebrow at Olympia and Rose. Taking note of the conversation (now a pointedly hushed one) permeating the kitchen, he mouthed an 'oh' and promptly joined the two young ladies at the wall. Despite Mrs. Withers' evident suspicions of her employer's attention, Olympia's curiosity was not yet sated and so she remained right where she was.

Murmurs, unintelligible, sifted between the couple under scrutiny. Olympia was torn between optimism that they'd grown closer in the pursuit of privacy and dismay that she could no longer discern the thoroughness of their interaction.

"Sounds lovely," Mrs. Withers agreed, returning her voice to its usual pitch.

"Great. Wonderful." Mr. March sounded like his whole world had been set alight by the woman in the apron before him. "I'll see you then."

"I'll be there."

"Good, good. Great. Wonderful!" he repeated, drawing a hint of laughter from her lips.

"Thank you for the flowers, and the visit, and the invitation."

"Gladly, miss."

Steps back toward the door came more rapidly than any of the snoops were expecting. It swung open and Olympia gave Mr. March a fright for the second time that morning when she, her maid, and her groundskeeper hustled forth as if they'd just arrived. Pretending they were on their way in, as if they'd caught only the tail end of the discussion, the trio squeezed past the bewildered fellow and into the kitchen. Mrs. Withers began to shake her head, not bothering to look up as she arranged the bouquet in a vase. Mr. March's footsteps dissipated and Olympia held her breath, waiting for Mr. Sullivan's parting words and the thud of the front door shutting in merry finality. Fish swiped an apple and Miss Rose giggled behind him, momentarily forgetting the door swung both ways and gasping as she caught his shoulder, keeping herself from falling.

"Have a pleasant day."

"You too, my good fellow."

Shhhhhunk.

Olympia let out a whoop. Miss Rose didn't bother to temper down her bashful laughter, letting it grow as she leaned on Fish, who reaped a lazy bite of his prize.

"I, for one, can't tell what the fuss is about," he grumbled. "So what, Mrs. Withers has got herself a romp in the hay this weekend?"

Their dear cook gasped, turning pink, and chased him around the kitchen with her rolling pin raised at a speed uncanny for her age. Olympia, giggling right along with Rose, eventually tugged him aside on his next pass-by and shooed him out the door. He munched on his belated breakfast as he departed, and Mrs. Withers crossed her arms, her head bobbing to-and-fro once more.

"Whatever am I to do with you two?" 

She swiped to pinch their cheeks and Olympia dodged out of the way, but Rose was too slow. Scrunching up her face, the maid shook out her pretty chin and retreated just as Fish had before the door had ceased swaying from his departure.

"Bake us a peach tart in celebration?" Olympia suggested, grinning, and the woman she saw as something closer to a mother than her own by blood sighed fondly, shaking her head.

"For breakfast tomorrow," she promised begrudgingly, and Olympia let out a cheer in celebration.

"What's all the hullabaloo about?" Antwon leaned up on his toes to look over the top of the swinging door. "Rose looked in a tizzy when I passed her in the hall just there."

"We'll need to start calling Mrs. Withers 'Mrs. March' before long!" his cousin crowed, dancing about the kitchen in merriment before remembering she was supposed to be mad at him and crossed her arms, forcing her gleeful smile to dissipate. "Not that it matters to you, of course."

He blinked at her, hardening slightly. "Why wouldn't it?"

She turned up her nose at him. "Because you're all Mister..." Her hand flopped about in a manner that implied she was dismissive of him and yet seeking the right description for his benefit. "Mister Grinch."

He snorted. "Grinch? Really?"

"Well, 'Mister Grump-The-Hypocrite-Who-Wishes-Happiness-Upon-Himself-But-Keeps-It-From-Others' seemed a bit long."

"Ollie, I swear, sometimes, you are just-"

"Entirely right."

Mrs. Withers flicked her dishtowel at a surprised Antwon, who flinched at the water droplets spraying his way.

"Go on, get."

He retreated, hands in the air, and Olympia pretended to wipe her brow in relief.

"Thanks, Mrs. March."

Mrs. Withers turned a finger of warning her employer's way. "Don't make me shoo you out, too."

"Alright, alright." Olympia chuckled, then softened. "Thank you, for that, really." She hummed a note of vague intent, leaning against the lowermost cabinets. "How'd you know about that, anyway?"

Mrs. Withers, resorting to scrubbing down a plate that was already sparkling clean, tipped her head toward her left shoulder, then her right. "Word travels between the help quickly. And you're not so good of an actor as you may think you are."

Olympia pretended to be put off, but Mrs. Withers made sure to denote with a glance that she wasn't buying it at all. 

"You and Grouchy McGee-"

The heiress snorted a laugh.

"-had a fight yesterday and you've been stewing over it since. I doubt he's over it yet, either."

She sighed. "Probably not. We're both quite stubborn."

"You can say that again."

Electing to ignore the tease, Olympia considered for the better duration of a half-minute, ultimately settling on a question.

"Why did you say I was in the right?"

Mrs. Withers set down her latest conquest (a teacup) and turned slowly, drying her hands on the dishtowel. She leaned her elbows on the counter, her sleeves rolled up just enough that her skin, just beginning to sag with age, met the cool granite. 

"We all know about the promise you made, Olympia."

Oh, so she was bringing out the big guns- a direct address by name. She was serious.

"More of an oath, detestably."

Mrs. Withers nodded gravely. "You're still young. You have time to learn and love."

Olympia stiffened so fully she felt a bone in the general vicinity of her spine pop.

"However..."

She relaxed a little, crossing her fingers on one hand behind her back.

"From what I've seen of Mr. Webster- particularly the way he treats you -I couldn't think of a better young man to take a chance on first love with."

"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Withers!" Olympia started around the counter to hug her cook, ever-high in her good graces, but she was delayed by the shake of a venerable head.

"I haven't finished."

She returned to her earlier perch, watching patiently across the grey countertop for further insight.

"You took a vow."

Olympia swallowed weakly. "I did. Regrettably."

"As did he."

"Yes."

"And you're both people of your word, are you not?"

"I am, and I trust he is, too."

"Then you have no hope."

The heiress, clinging onto the last of hope, wilted.

"Unless..."

"Unless?"

"You consider the agreement coerced.”

"In which case-" Olympia brightened up significantly. "-it would no longer be deemed binding!"

"Exactly."

"Oh, I wish I could do that!" She sighed, wistful. "I don't have the courage, or the wits, and I haven't got a clue what I'd say to either of them to figure it all out."

"You'll think of something. You're a smart young lady." 

Mrs. Withers stepped back, retrieved a cookie from the jar on the top cupboard shelf, and came to Olympia's side, tucking it into her palms. A tradition since her childhood, signifying they had reached the extent of advice her matronly guide was willing to provide.

"Smarter than either of those college boys, I'd wager."

"I will. Figure something out, I mean." 

She nibbled at the cookie, feeling the warmth of pride and understanding wash through her as Mrs. Withers rubbed her shoulder.

"I have no doubt you will." A light tap on the arm, sending her on her way. "Now, go on, put that mind of yours to use!"

"Now?"

"Of course, now! Better soon than late."

"You're right, as always."

Olympia stepped in for a hug that was returned after a brief pause, alerting her this was an unanticipated entreaty.

"Not always," Mrs. Withers checked, patting her arm as they separated.

"Uh-huh." A small smirk infiltrated the warmth of the younger woman's smile. "And about Friday? You can have the afternoon and the evening off." Jumping back out of the way of a cheek-pinch, she added, grinning fully now, "And the following morning, if it comes to that!"

Fleeing her cook's inevitable (albeit fond) vexation, she ducked through the swinging doors and, holding her skirts at the hips to keep them from swishing between her legs and tripping her up, fled down the hall. Laughter burst through the foyer. Antwon upon the stairs looked like he might ask her what had brought her this mirth but thought better of it and refrained. Mr. Sullivan might have spooked had he not been a man of such stony disposition. Deciding to take the servants' stairs (a poor name, since they were used by any and all in the household) instead of the main to avoid her cousin, Olympia trod around the three corners and down the three steps to arrive at the room best described as a woodshed in the winter and an orchid nirvana in the summer. Stilling her feet for just an instant to take in the lovely, nearly overpowering scents of the flowers, she closed her eyes; when they opened once more, she had already returned to motion.

Up to the library and then outside, for a word of advice from the most brilliant mind literature had yet conceived and a breath of fresh air to further clear her mind and adapt upon his boundless enlightenment to ascertain the best path forward.

A path that would, she hoped dearly, stooping to knock on the wood of the dusty stairs, lead her straight into the arms of David Webster.

​~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#olympia bird #olympia bird ficlet #olympia bird 12: staffing suppositions #band of brothers #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers ficlet #hbo war show #hbo war #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #hbo war oc #hbo war oc ficlet #hbo war ficlet #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #prose's passion

[sergeant-spoons]

11. Checkmate

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​ @vintagelavenderskies​​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​​ @50svibes​​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​​ @whovian45810​​​​ @brokennerdalert​

Dedicated to the wonderful @wexhappyxfew​ for all the ​love and support she has given me and my fics. ILY Shannon! 💕

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"It's been too long, hasn't it, cousin?"

Clunk. Click-clack. Tip. Tap.

"It has, it has."

Shuffle-shuffle-slide.

"All set?"

"Just two more pieces... done."

"Alright." Antwon gestured to the dueling armies laid out before their eyes. "White goes first."

"Grey, in this set," Olympia noted, raising a pawn. "Care to time it?"

"Not particularly."

She shelved the flip clock, a faint smile crossing her lips. "Me neither."

Grey pawn to D2.

"Ollie..."

Black pawn to E4.

"Yes?"

Grey pawn to C5.

"I've been meaning to ask you something."

Black pawn to E3.

"Go ahead."

Grey pawn takes black pawn at E3.

Olympia set aside her first prisoner of war and leaned her elbows on the table, her hands beneath her chin. Pink-painted lips creased slightly, a polite indication of her given attention. Antwon, nevertheless, gestured to the board.

"We can keep playing. Maybe the game will help us focus."

Black pawn to E1.

"Perhaps."

Grey pawn to D1.

"So, you see, my question is... well, it's not an easy one."

Black bishop to D7. Check.

"Spit it out, Antwon!" Olympia shook her head lightly. "You'd think you were hiding something from me."

Grey bishop to B5. No longer check.

Her cousin chuckled. "Quite the opposite, I suspect."

Black knight to F6.

"..."

Grey pawn to C8.

"Your silence is all but incriminating, you know."

Black rook to F1.

"What do you want to know?"

Grey pawn takes black bishop at D7.

Antwon muttered a curse to himself at the loss.

Black pawn to E8.

"Antwon."

"Ollie."

The look in his eyes was hardly a question, more of an accusation than anything, and she retreated her gaze from his as swiftly as a hare fleeing a fox.

Grey pawn takes black pawn at E8. 

"... No."

Black knight takes grey pawn at E8.

"Olympia."

She sighed, a bishop lingering half an inch above the board, clutched between three slender fingers. Though she'd expected to find Antwon frowning, he was not. His neutral expression confused her so thoroughly she nearly forgot her intention with the piece in hand. Clearing her throat, she made the move.

Grey bishop takes black knight at E8.

"You know what my point of view is on this."

Black pawn to E7.

“Do I?"

Grey queen to B5.

"What do you mean?" Though she didn't mean to, her voice sounded newly tired, even defensive.

Black rook to F3.

"I think I've been mistaken."

Grey queen to E2.

Olympia's heart skipped a beat. She knew what he was referring to, it was the only major contention they'd ever had.

Black knight to F1.

"Why would you be mistaken?"

Grey queen takes black pawn at G2.

"I only think I am," he reminded. "I need you to clarify."

Black rook to G3.

"You're stalling."

Grey queen takes black knight at F1.

"So are you."

Black queen to G4.

"Ask the question, Antwon."

Grey queen to H1. Check.

"Are you actually against my interest in Rose?"

Olympia knocked over her queen in the withdrawal of her hand and had to right it, blinking away her bewilderment. The matter at hand had undermined her expectations entirely. As Webster would have remarked, a reference to his indubitably American affection for baseball, her cousin's inquiry had flown at her right out of left field.

"Um, no."

Black rook (slowly) to H3. No longer check.

"No?"

Grey queen to F1.

"No, I'm not." 

Black rook takes grey bishop at E8.

Olympia cleared her throat, Antwon regarding her with increasingly eager anticipation.

Grey rook takes black rook at E8.

"A part of me worries that you wouldn't treat her as well as she deserves," she admitted. "However..."

Black bishop to G6.

"However..?"

Grey knight takes black pawn at E7.

"However, she likes you."

Black queen to G2.

Olympia flashed a smirk, spying her cousin's mistake before his hand had yet returned to his lap.

Grey queen takes black queen at G2.

"She does? She likes me?" Antwon entirely ignored the devastating loss at hand in favor of prying for further answers. Olympia waved for him to make his move, playfully rolling her eyes.

Black king to H5.

"I can't imagine why else Webster would have left you two alone on our little picnic the other day." 

Grey queen takes black rook at H3. Checkmate.

"To find you," Antwon shot back, his smile dwindling.

Olympia pretended not to hear, hoping to avoid the derailing of their unexpectedly pleasant revelations. "Checkmate."

"Ollie."

"Checkmate, you silly." She nodded toward the board, feigning delight at her victory when all she really wanted to do was flee this impending interrogation. "I win."

He disregarded her declarations completely. "Did he find you?"

She lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "We happened upon each other by the property fence and returned to you and dearest Rosie-"

Antwon groaned. Ever since he'd let slip the endearing nickname, she'd made it her mission to tease him about it at every possible occasion.

"-together."

"Yes!" He snapped up the opportunity. "Together."

"For no reason other than common coincidence."

"Uh-huh."

She rose so swiftly her chair nearly tipped over backward, halted only by the foot she managed to hook on its lowermost rung just in time.

"I hold to my word, and you know it."

"Yeah, I do." His expression softened. "And I'm starting to wish you wouldn't."

Antwon rose and began to clear the board. Olympia's jaw sank quite nearly to her chest, eyes widening like the moon's cyclic swelling. If her mother had seen her then, Mrs. Bird would likely have swooned into a dead faint. What on earth could have led to such utter decimation of manners and propriety? 

The implication of Antwon McCree regretting his judgment, that's what.

"Help me?"

She silently began to clear the pieces, sliding them into the slim drawers on each side of the handsome board, a gift from her grandfather to his daughter (Olympia's mother) long before Olympia knew life.

"You mean it?" Even to herself, her voice sounded small and quiet. Lacking confidence. Unlike her.

Antwon thought for a second or two- unbearably long for Olympia's appreciation -then dipped his chin in a nod, followed at length by a second and third.

"I'm still going to hold you your oath, though. Webster, too."

Her spirits were consequently dashed whereas her temper, fed by confusion, swiftly spiked.

"But- but you-"

"Never say 'but', Ollie, didn't your mother teach you better?"

Olympia brought her foot down on the hardwood. "But I don’t understand!"

"And now you're acting like a child!" Antwon stepped back, frowning, shaking his head, disappointed. "You made a vow and you will keep to it, do you hear me?"

Olympia turned and shut the drawers to the chessboard, heaving into her arms. Her cousin did not extend an offer of assistance, nor would she have accepted his help had he thought to suggest it.

"Olym-"

"Yes, yes, I hear you!" She kept her back to him, a last stand of defiance, though she knew she was beaten. "Miserably so, yes."

Stiff footsteps carried him away without another word. Olympia sank onto the loveseat she'd occupied in the happier minutes of their game. Her head soon followed in a dip, her low-cast eyes examining without any heart the shades of chestnut brown occupying the floor.

A sigh, sullen, fluted through her pouted lips.

The treading of socked feet- not Antwon's, not the servants' -came to a halt at the closed door of the same upstairs parlor Olympia presently occupied. She stared at the knob, willing it to turn; it did not, and the man who kept his word just as well as she did continued on his way. She listened to his gait until she could no longer hear it and bowed her head once more.

I've always gotten what I want, and most often deserved it, too.

Her music boxes, her clothes and accessories, her staff, authority over the estate- she'd received these things by request, that which she put forth very seldom and consistently to her thorough satisfaction.

It simply isn't fair.

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#olympia bird #olympia bird ficlet #olympia bird 11: checkmate #band of brothers #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers ficlet #band of brothers oc #hbo war show oc #hbo war show #hbo war #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #hbo war oc #hbo war oc ficlet #hbo war ficlet #prose's passion

[sergeant-spoons]

6. Earl Grey

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​ @vintagelavenderskies​​ @wexhappyxfew​​ @50svibes​​ @tvserie-s-world​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​ @whovian45810​​ @brokennerdalert​

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The knocking came at the same moment Antwon opened the door to Olympia's study, quite negating the politeness of the gesture.

"Ollie, have you seen Webster?"

Turning as much as she could while still remaining in her chair, Olympia twiddled her fountain pen between her fingers, then grimaced as ink spat onto the floorboards.

"Oops." She shook her head. "No, I haven't."

He frowned, leaning against the doorframe, and crossed his arms. "He was up late writing to his family-"

Of course, he was. How thoughtful is that?

"-and last I saw he was walking out of the kitchen with a muffin at fifteen minutes to two."

Olympia drew one leg over the other as she turned back to her desk. "I thought you didn't want me seeking him out," she replied, rather glibly, as she flipped through her notebook. She meant to give the illusion of investment in her current venture; in truth, she'd hardly been paying attention to anything she wrote. 

Antwon sighed as he walked up behind her, placing his hands on the back of her chair. "Fine, you can come along to help me find him." He pulled at her seat but she'd already jumped up, and he ended up needing to catch the heavy chair before it hit the ground.

"Careful!" Olympia cried as she darted out the door, grinning. "That's an antique!"

They searched the Bird estate from top to bottom, yet David Webster was nowhere to be found. An hour passed and though the sunshine called, both Olympia and her cousin were well invested in the endeavor of tracking down their friend by now. As they passed the dining room, Olympia paused to admire the light streaming in through the gilded windows and caught a glimpse of a figure out on the porch. She pulled at her cousin's sleeve and they turned back to the front door. Not bothering to follow the winding road, they traipsed across the lawn and around to the side of the house. Olympia could feel the dew on her feet- she wore sandals this fine summer day, and the grass was recently watered -and smiled at the delightful chill that snuck up her spine.

Indeed, on the cobblestone porch, just steps from where he'd admired the sunset the previous evening, Webster lay fast asleep. The porch creaked once in the breeze as Olympia took the slim stairs two at a time, and she paused. Her fingers, gripping the sides of her skirt so it did not drag through the damp turf, lost their purchase at the sight of him so at peace. Antwon appeared beside her and made as if to wake his collegiate companion, but she halted him with her hand on his arm.

"What harm can it do," she implored, "to let him sleep?"

"We've been looking for him for hours," Antwon complained, but Olympia held his second attempt back as well.

"Whatever you've got to say, it can wait a few more minutes." She waved her hand at the window of the house, the same through which she'd spotted Webster a minute prior. "Mrs. Withers will be laying out the dishes for tea any minute now, and he won't want to miss that."

"Right." Antwon ran his hand through his hair as Olympia tried not to admire how Webster's own locks brushed so prettily over his forehead. "Sure, we'll leave him be for now, but when we do have to get him up-" He wagged his finger at his cousin. "-I'll be the one to do it. No 'Sleeping Beauty' kisses for you."

Olympia flushed several shades of pink, and just as she opened her mouth to scold Antwon for such a notion, she felt something soft wiggling under her skirt and gave a start. Stepping back, eyes wide, she watched as a small form pranced from between her legs and bounded up onto the porch.

"Earl Grey!" Relieved it was only her dear cat, she stooped to scoop him into her arms, but he shied away and made for Webster. "No, no, no-"

But it was too late. Early Grey jumped up onto the rim of the swinging porch, sending it rocking just a little, and tipped his head. He stared at Webster's sleeping face as Olympia and Antwon shared a concerned glance. She kicked off her sandals, knowing they would flap against the stone and perhaps wake Webster, and crept across the veranda, reaching out her arms. Antwon hung behind, and she could just about picture the look of amusement growing on his face.

"Earl! Earl Grey! Come here, boy," Olympia urged, but her pet ignored her completely. She straightened up, stifling a gasp, when he began to swat at Webster's hair, and behind her, she could hear Antwon trying not to laugh. Turning, she raised a scolding finger to her lips, urging him to be quiet, and when she looked back, Earl Grey had crawled onto Webster's chest. His grey form rose and fell with each breath of the scholarly slumberer, and he continued to paw at his perch's bangs. Olympia could see his whiskers twitching as he leaned ever closer to Webster's chin.

Steeling herself, she crossed the remaining distance between them and slowly reached for Earl Grey. She knew he would startle and his claws would come out if she was too quick, and over on the steps, Antwon tapped his foot as if to urge her to hurry up. She bit back a muttered expletive, knowing her mother had raised her better than that, and laid her hands on her cat's side. He began to purr, and Olympia hesitated- it was such a nice image, Webster with Earl Grey on his chest, that for a moment, she considered it the vision of her future.

No, no, enough of that-

It was at that moment, as she snapped out of her daydream, that Earl Grey decided now was a good time to settle in. He could be an immovable, stubborn feline at the best of times, and this was no exception. As he curled up, Olympia lost her grip on his side and pursed her lips. She'd have to scoop him up, which meant wrapping her arms all the way around him. Which meant getting quite close to her sleeping guest's face. As she bent over him, snaking her arms around her pet's furry little frame, she could see his eyelashes fluttering in slumber. The urge to kiss his eyelids swept over her and though she refrained, she was distracted for long enough for Earl Grey to decide to stretch out.

Quick as she could, Olympia withdrew, only a half-second before her cat's talons would have scraped across Webster's chin and upper neck. His breathing changed tempo and he cracked one eye open just as Olympia resituated Earl Grey- who was meowing in protest -in her arms.

"Sorry," she excused a bit sheepishly, well aware of the blush upon her cheeks, "I didn't mean to wake you."

Webster looked between her, then her disgruntled pet, and a smile bloomed on his face. "Not a problem." He sat up, smoothing down his hair as if to calm its sleep-induced messiness (Olympia thought he looked unbelievably good either way), and nodded his head at the feline in his hostess' arms. "Who's this handsome fella?"

Olympia quite nearly said 'You mean yourself?', but bit her tongue. "Earl Grey," she offered as an introduction, "his family has been cared for by the Birds for nearly a century."

"Wow." The impressed look on Webster's face made Olympia certain he was genuine. "That long, huh?"

"Since 1848."

Earl Grey opened his mouth, astonishingly wide for a cat of his size and temperament, and Olympia expected him to yawn, but instead, he sneezed. Her gaze softened and she stroked his back, sharing a laugh with Webster.

"He's cute," her friend admired, rising, and he tugged at his sleeves as he asked, "could I hold him?"

"Sure." Olympia shifted Earl Grey in her arms and as she passed him to Webster, she shivered to be so close but feel so far.

"Teatime!" announced Antwon, poking his head out the back porch door. "Hey, why didn't we come out this way earlier?" he asked his cousin as she turned to him, and she tipped her head at Webster.

"It creaks, might have woken him."

She returned to face Webster, starting toward her sandals on the steps, but her movement slowed when she saw the look on his face.

"You were looking for me?"

"We both were," Antwon called, but Webster's gaze never left Olympia, and she began to blush once again.

"Yes," she admitted, and though it hurt her to dash the hesitant hope in his gaze, she went on, "Antwon had something in mind to talk to you about, but couldn't find you, so I helped him look."

He seemed to take in the information with the fallen reverence of a man distanced from a longheld faith, and she broke their eye contact to retrieve her sandals. Webster fell into step barely a second later and reached her shoes before she did, shaking his head.

"You were barefoot this whole time?" Before she could affirm it, he stooped, picked up the sandals with one hand while holding Earl Grey in the other half of his embrace, and passed them to her. "The stones are hot in the sun, you could have burned your feet."

"I'm alright," she reassured, but knowing he cared sent her into a mental tizzy and she was slow to follow him back across the veranda to the side door. Antwon narrowed his eyes at her, and she glanced aside, pretending to admire the begonias in bloom on the side of the porch.

"Ollie?"

"Hmm?" She picked up her skirt as she rose past the slight incline of the doorway and looked to Antwon, holding the door.

"Careful," he whispered, his words breezing like a chilly winter's gale despite the warmth of summer all around.

Olympia shivered, but did not bother to reply and brushed past her cousin down the hall and into the parlor, where Miss Rose was pouring the first of the tea into Webster's saucer. He thanked her as she served him and there was an appreciation in his eyes Olympia realized she herself often lacked when addressing her servants. She'd have to work on that, she told herself, and took the seat across from Webster rather than beside him, knowing Antwon would disapprove. When her cousin swept into the room, he promptly took the empty spot on the sofa and struck up a conversation about the recent developments in the war in Europe.

Catching Webster's eye over the rim of her teacup, Olympia nearly burned her tongue, distracted by the smile he flashed at her then. Antwon did not notice, to her delight, and she turned her head aside, scanning the portraits above the mantel as if she'd never seen them before. She'd made the oath, so prevalent in her thoughts now, only yesterday; yet here she was, blushing as she avoided his gaze. Hopeless, her mother would half-tease, half-scold if she were here. Perhaps she was right, Olympia determined as she took another sip, tuning back in to Antwon's story with a newly uncertain heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#olympia bird #olympia bird ficlet #olympia bird 6: earl grey #earl grey the chaos cat 💕 #band of brothers ficlet #band of brothers #prose's passion #band of brothers oc #band of brothers oc ficlet #hbo war #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show ficlet #oc #oc ficlet #oc fanfiction #hbo war oc ficlet #hbo war oc #hbo war ficlet

[sergeant-spoons]

8. I Could Have Danced All Night

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow @vintagelavenderskies @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @adamantiumdragonfly @ask-you-what-sir @whovian45810 @brokennerdalert​

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Olympia liked it when the summer evenings were cool. The heat of the day melted into a pleasant balminess, and one could wrap a shawl around oneself without feeling silly for doing so in the middle of June. This was one such evening, and as the young Bird heiress turned the lock on her windows and drew them open, she smiled at the fading light. Hidden behind the rolling hills, the sun had retired to its rest, but the sky still remembered its presence in a haze of orange and pink and purple and indigo. The first stars were out, and Olympia gazed at them with an almost childlike admiration.

The urge to reminisce came over her, and she retreated to the étagère across the room. Her fingers brushed over the lids of four music boxes before she made her selection of the fifth, and she brought it to her ear as she wound it. The birdsong was an almost haunting melody, one that had frightened her in as a child when the springs gave on humid nights and sent a flurry of notes from the dark corner of her bedroom. Now, she began to sway to the song, falling into the tempo with a trained grace brought by years of ballroom dancing lessons.

She closed her eyes, turning, and raised her arms as if another was her partner. Her childhood tutor, the grizzled Mrs. Doherty, always pinched her waist and hand and scolded her to straighten up her spine or raise her chin. In some way or another, Olympia missed the old woman's fond reprimands and wrinkled frowns. Then again, if she were caught swaying like this in naught but a nightgown, her hair pooling down her shoulders, Mrs. Doherty would be quick to raise her ruler. She'd smack it against the palm of her hand as she lectured her years-long pupil, and though it had not taken Olympia long to realize she'd never actually hit her, the threatening display still managed to put a fire and brimstone fear within her young self.

Humming along to the familiar melody, Olympia did not realize how close she had become to the square pillar in the center of her room. Her foot slipped past it within inches of stubbing her toe, and yet she, blissfully ignorant, continued in her dreamlike dance. Only when she felt hands on her waist, drawing her abruptly to the side, did she open her eyes and see just how close she'd come to injuring herself. The gasp that fell from her half-parted lips came from both the near-miss and the presence of her savior- David Webster. His hands had not fallen from her waist, and he made no move to apologize for touching her so forwardly.

Instead, he kept one hand where it was and raised the other to take hers, then began to lead her in a waltz. Neither spoke, simply let the music- not quite sweet yet not discordant in the slightest -carry them around the sleek wood-paneled floor. Olympia hardly dared to blink, afraid that if she were to do so, he would disappear like the dust in the air when it passed out of reach of the window's revealing sunbeams. In turn, he did not break eye contact, just watched her with a mixture of caution yet certainty, gentleness yet strength, and some other combination of conflicting yet married feelings she couldn't put a name to. 

Although Webster hardly spun her as they danced, Olympia felt a twinge of vertigo every time his touch shifted just slightly on her waist or hand. His feet moved in time with her own and only once did they stumble, when she pulled him back from a collision with the same pillar he'd saved her from just minutes prior. Minutes- how many had passed? Five? Ten? Fifteen? A whole half-hour? She couldn't sigh, couldn't smile, couldn't laugh, couldn't do anything but stare and sway, stare and sway, stare and sway.

The music box played and played for so long Olympia thought the great grandfather clock down the hall just may strike midnight before their dance came to its end. As startled as she'd initially been to open her eyes and see him so close, she felt naught but comfort and calm as she swayed in his arms. He didn't glance at her body, though he must have noticed she was only in a slip, and she appreciated that. She was just wondering what it would be like to run her fingers through his hair- it looked so fluffy and silky and near -when the birdsong began to wind down, skipping notes and clicking here and there. 

The last chime rang out and they stopped moving.

For a beat, Olympia was certain he was about to kiss her.

Webster stepped back, dropping her hands, and tipped his head. The small smile on his face brought a fresh round of butterflies to her stomach. She didn't bother to shoo them away, just clasped her hands in front of her and watched every footstep as he made his way to the door. His hand on the side, he turned back. They watched each other for a long moment, silent, newly breathless. He looked down the hall and she could tell from the slightest movement of his pupils that he was watching the long hand of the grandfather tick-tick-tick the seconds by. He turned back, then, as his gaze met the VI mark, and uttered the first and only word he would speak to her that evening:

"Goodnight."

And then he was gone, those two syllables hanging in the air between them. Olympia pursed her lips. She couldn't help but wonder if it was only a dream, dancing with him, barefoot in her nightgown. The imaginings of an overactive mind. Perhaps a combined conjuring of her fantasizing tendencies and the sugar high of the macaroons they'd dined on after supper. Her hands came up, one folding over the other's fist, and steadied her against her chest, just below her bosom. Watching the knob turn, she held her breath, and at the soft click of the lock slipping into place, she knew with a thrill that this was no dream.

With a long sigh, she fell back onto her bed, the same hands that so recently held his own and caressed his shoulder rising to cover her mouth. Her legs flew out from underneath her and she nearly fell off the mattress, beaming up at the ceiling. Oath be damned (momentarily)! Olympia would ride this high all night- how could she be expected to sleep now? She couldn't help imagining if he'd stayed, if she'd had the mind to rewind the music box as far as it would go, if she'd leaned up to press her lips against his when she'd had the chance. Alas, Antwon would have had a fit to find them like that, especially with his cousin scarcely garbed as she was. A flush came upon Olympia's cheeks and she rolled over on her bed, burying her smile in the folds of two pillows.

Oh, I could have danced all night, with you, David Webster.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#olympia bird #olympia bird ficlet #olympia bird 8: I could have danced all night #band of brothers #hbo war #hbo war show #hbo war show ficlet #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war show oc #hbo war oc ficlet #hbo war oc #hbo war ficlet #band of brothers ficlet #band of brothers oc #band of brothers oc ficlet #prose's passion

[sergeant-spoons]

7. Uptown Girls

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @thoughpoppiesblow​​​​ @vintagelavenderskies​​​ @wexhappyxfew​​​ @50svibes​​​ @tvserie-s-world​​​ @adamantiumdragonfly​​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​​ @whovian45810​​​ @brokennerdalert​​

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The misty haze of the early June morning slowly dissipated as the sun ascended to its throne. Olympia watched the dew on the fields of gold and yellow and white. She was a clever girl, and it did not escape her notice that the vibrant colors were the first to come to her mind, a dreamer's predilection. Where a month prior, she may have watched the barley and sunflowers and Queen Anne's Lace roll by with little care, she now leaned further toward the window, her breath fogging up the glass. So what changed? She knew the answer in a heartbeat, yet she did not dare to think it.

Fiddling with the radio dial from the driver's seat, Mr. Carlisle hummed a faint tune of no particular chorus. A new hire at the Bird household, this was his first jaunt with his employer. Olympia shifted in her seat as they turned down the bend past Mr. March's house. Looking up from his work, her neighbor leaned on his hoe and waved a good-morning, and she returned the gesture with a smile. Landing on a station, Mr. Carlisle switched his vocals to include the lyrics and sang along to "I Don't Want to Set the World On Fire". Olympia thought it was sweet, how his accent slipped into his singing, though he'd emigrated from Scotland over twenty years ago. 

Mr. Carlisle looked into the rearview mirror and smiled at his passengers, Olympia and her maid, Miss Rose. "Do ye have a busy day ahead o' ye, me lassies?"

"Yes, indeed," Olympia replied, her own cheer raised by her chauffeur's infectious enthusiasm, "we're off around the shops, all down Main Street and back up it."

"Any particular time an' place ye'd like me to find ye, Miss Bird, ma'am?"

"Ah, yes." Olympia considered for a few seconds. "How about in front of Bloomingdale's, halfway down Seventh Avenue?"

"Right ye are!" Mr. Carlisle returned to his singing, and Olympia shared a small smile with Miss Rose, who too seemed in good spirits.

They arrived uptown within the hour. Olympia noticed how even the largest puddles on the sidewalk from last week's rain were long gone from the curbs and corners.

"You're looking quite dapper today, Mr. Carlisle," she added as Miss Rose stepped out onto the sidewalk, and Olympia caught a rosy hue creeping onto his freckled cheeks. "Thank you for the ride."

Mr. Carlisle straightened his bowtie happily. "Enjoy the day, lass!"

"Will do." Olympia watched the car as her chauffeur drove off to find someplace to park and smiled to herself, pleased with her decision to hire the fellow. "Miss Rose-" Turning, Olympia cut herself off when she saw her maid was not behind her, as she'd suspected. Gazing down the sidewalk, she rediscovered Miss Rose Cowan lingering at the window of a department store outlet. Stepping up, Olympia saw herself in the reflection of the window and took a moment to adjust her blouse. Miss Rose blushed and stepped back, clasping her hands, as if ashamed to be caught staring at the beautiful sundress on the main display.

"It's a lovely thing, isn't it?" her employer mused, and Miss Rose nodded quite enthusiastically. "Why don't we see it up close?"

A young man exiting the store held the door for Olympia and her maid, and when they thanked him, he winked at the Bird heiress. She simply smiled in return and went on her way, and Miss Rose sighed once the stranger was out of earshot.

"If I may say, ma'am," she said wistfully, "you're quite lucky."

"Am I, now?" Olympia fingered through a rack of skirts, mildly interested in a few but dismissive of most.

"Well, yes. Forgive me if I'm too bold, but everywhere we go, fellas like that look at you like you're a million dollars."

"That's because my name's worth that much and more." Olympia withdrew a pleated knee-length garment from the rack, turning it on its hanger to get a better look. "That's all there is to it, really, Rose."

Her maid did not reply, and Olympia glanced up to see her looking at the sundress in the window again. She opened her mouth to recall Miss Rose's attention, but she hesitated when a recent memory surfaced. It was the first morning after Antwon and Webster had arrived, and Miss Rose was folding a towelette at the side of the breakfast table. Antwon had made some self-important display and Miss Rose's cheeks went pink, though she tried to hide it. An idea clicked into place in the mental schedule of Olympia's day, and she began to scheme, the cogs already turning.

"Hmm." She stepped up to the sundress and pinched the fabric, scanning the mannequin. "No, I don't have the curves to fill that out." A glance at her companion. "You do, however." 

As Olympia waved over the sales rep, she could see Miss Rose's mouth forming into a delighted 'o' in the window. With the help of the cheerful attendant, they retrieved the dress and Olympia passed to her bashful maid. At her employer's urging, however, she eagerly slipped off to the dressing rooms. Olympia watched her go with a small smile. As she resumed her browsing, selecting one thing or another to try on in short order, she frowned at the seed of guilt creeping into her thoughts and tried to usher it away.

The fact of the matter was, in truth, that her reasons for offering the sundress to her maid were not entirely generous. Some fragment of her consciousness considered that if Miss Rose were to capture Antwon's attention, her cousin would be less alert towards any potential developments between Olympia and David Webster. But, she reassured herself, the greater part of her desired to see all members of her staff content. If Miss Rose would be happy with Antwon, then Olympia would be happy to encourage such a relationship.

Ten minutes passed, and Miss Rose had not emerged from the private stall of her choosing. Olympia left the clothes she'd chosen for her own leisure with the lively attendant and went to knock on the door.

"Miss Rose?"

"Miss Bird!" The lock clicked almost immediately and Olympia's maid appeared, cheeks flushed rather becomingly. Her employer glanced her up and down and saw with satisfaction that the pretty sundress fit her nicely.

"I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching the time-"

"Oh, no bother," Olympia reassured, waving her on out to get a better look, "give me a twirl."

Miss Rose did as asked, unable to keep a shy, delighted smile off her expression. Clearly, she adored the dress, but there was something holding her back from purchasing it. Ah, money, money, money- it was a rich man's world. Happily, however, was how the matter stood: Miss Rose was in the service of a very wealthy young lady with a particularly chivalrous intent.

"Gorgeous," Olympia praised, and Miss Rose's cheeks went from posey pink to carnation red. "You must simply have it. Come along, then."

Miss Rose gasped, trailing after her mistress. "Are you sure, ma'am?"

"Certainly!" Olympia offered a mild smile. "It's a lovely dress fit for a lovely summer, and a lovely young lady such as yourself should have it for her own."

Miss Rose expressed her gratitude over and over again until Olympia firmly told her to save her praise and thank her by simply wearing the dress as she did now. After the Bird heiress determined her own purchases from the department store- two blouses and a pair of handsomely heeled sandals -she paid for them and the beautiful sundress. Miss Rose couldn't help preening a little in the window of the shop, and Olympia smiled, pretending not to see. 

They went on their way, and as they continued to shop, they gossiped a little about this and that. As Olympia had suspected, any mention of her cousin brought a blush to Miss Rose's cheeks. She began to wonder about the fittings of such a match and, by the time they stopped for an early dinner/late lunch at her favorite café, came to the conclusion that it was a suitable pairing. Antwon was the fifth and youngest of his siblings and thus was not expected to court as highly as them. Miss Rose was not from a particularly well-off family, but her surname was a well-respected one through the ages. Few would object, and Olympia was certainly not one of that sort.

Her prying tendencies satisfied, she thought little more of the idea until, two hours later, Mr. Carlisle turned their ride down the long driveway of the Bird estate. Turning to Miss Rose, she winked.

"When we get out of the car, I'd like you to head into the home first. Mr. Carlisle can help me with the bags and things." As her companion nodded happily, Olympia leaned closer, adding in a whisper, "My cousin just might faint when he sees you."

Seeing her attempt to bring that lovely blush back onto Miss Rose's cheeks succeed, Olympia leaned back and waited as Mr. Carlisle parked the car. Her maid hopped out and quite nearly tripped going up the steps in her excitement. Olympia leaned against the driver's side door as Mr. Carlisle pretended to speak to her, and together they watched (not subtly whatsoever) as the door opened and Antwon popped his head out. Olympia had known he would answer, seeing as today was the second Tuesday of the month, Mr. Sullivan's day off. And just as she'd hoped, his eyebrows shot up and he nearly did a double-take of Miss Rose. She turned, swishing the skirt of the dress, perhaps asking if he liked it. Antwon nodded and held the door for her to come inside.

Delighted with the apparent success of her small mission, Olympia withdrew three of the shopping totes from the trunk while Mr. Carlisle retrieved the rest. Spotting her, Antwon hopped down the front stoop as Miss Rose ventured indoors with one last pining glance. He took two of the bags his cousin carried as she expressed her thanks; she then caught him glancing back toward the front door of the house as if seeking out Miss Rose again. Olympia, not wanting to reveal her plot, turned her smile as it broadened toward a row of ants crossing the grass before her. Antwon saw, nevertheless, and nudged her arm, recalling her attention.

"What are you up to?"

"Me? Nothing." Olympia raised her chin, the picture of innocence. "Wherever did you get that idea?"

"You're doing that thing where you think you're hiding your scheming but you really aren't that subtle."

"Excuse me!" She swatted his arm, causing the bag hung off her wrist to swing with the motion. "You're the one mooning after dear Rose!"

"What!" Antwon clicked his tongue as he turned fully toward her, nearly stumbling as his leg met the side of the stairs. "She wasn't wearing that when you left-"

"So you noticed!" his cousin declared in triumph, and Antwon groaned as he held the door open by his hip. "Hands off my maid," Olympia warned, noting how he pretended not to hear.

"How was uptown?" Antwon asked, diverting the subject, and Olympia knew this was truly her moment of triumph. In one key way, Miss Bird and Mister McCree differed: where she would take such an order to heart (for example, her vow), he would see her words as a challenge.

Excellent. 

"It was a nice trip. We brought back macaroons-"

Antwon grabbed for the bag with the bakery label and Olympia laughed, holding it out of his reach.

"-which are for breakfast tomorrow!"

"Or dessert tonight," he offered as a compromise, licking his lips, and she sighed, feigning disappointment.

"You are one greedy rascal-"

"Hey!" He winked. "At least I'm a handsome one."

"Sure, you are." She rolled her eyes, smile wry.

As they walked into the parlor, Webster looked up from where he reclined on the couch, lowering his book to his lap.

"Are those macaroons?"

"The two of you, for goodness' sake-"

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#olympia bird #olympia bird ficlet #olympia bird 7: uptown girls #oc ficlet #oc #prose's passion #hbo war show oc ficlet #hbo war oc ficlet #band of brothers oc ficlet #band of brothers #hbo war #hbo war show #hbo war show oc #hbo war show ficlet #hbo war ficlet #hbo war oc #band of brothers ficlet #band of brothers oc

[sergeant-spoons]

2. Visitors

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @easy-company-tradition​ @vintagelavenderskies @wexhappyxfew @50svibes

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Days passed in the sunshine at the Bird estate. Olympia read outdoors most of the time. A good portion of her days ever since the sun began to turn the seasons to the warmth of Summertime were filled with days out of the house. She tried to vary the spots she settled in, though often found herself drawn back to the hillside at the edge of the property. It was a lovely spot, and she decided there was nothing wrong with preferring it to anywhere else.

Preparations were made that immediate Friday for the visitors to come the next day. Olympia oversaw it all and assisted in rearranging the guest rooms. Though her servants often wondered aloud to her- she always insisted her staff be open to her with any misgivings or sorrows or whatnot -why she tended to do such things, they had learned soon enough since her parents had left her to run the estate the only answer they would receive was that she felt bad if she didn't offer a hand. It was mostly true, though privately, she enjoyed the thanks they gave much more than the satisfaction of having helped.

As such, the guest rooms were prepared by the time afternoon fell, and Olympia still had time to catch the last few hours of sunshine outdoors. She, though, determined to spend the rest of the day inside, curled up in the window of her favorite reading nook in the library. It was cooler in the house, and today was an especially humid one, as a storm was predicted in the papers for this coming weekend. Besides, she'd begun to pink and tan and freckle from all the time in the sun, and she knew what her mother would say if she saw her daughter like that. In short, she would disapprove.

Considering as two rooms had been prepared, Olympia found time to wonder, as she supped that evening, who her cousin's guest would be. All she knew was that he'd invited the fellow rather last-minute and had only let her know three days prior in a telegram he'd sent in haste from the postal service on Harvard campus. Travel would be days long to arrive at the estate, especially considering the border between the countries; thus, they had set out that same day, her cousin only sending word of his companion immediately before they caught their first train north.

Would he be friendly to her? Share her enjoyment of books and academia? It would make sense that he would, to answer the latter question. Since her cousin studied literature, his friend would likely have some relation to the same field, and so would be well-read, at the least. Might he play chess with her? She knew Antwon would, at least. He was an excellent player and fond of the game. What analytical skills he possessed for paper and prose transferred well to the chessboard. How about looks? Was this friend handsome? She hoped so. Olympia liked to spend her time in the company of good-looking people. Perhaps it was a shallow thing, but she blamed her high-class upbringing for her equally-raised standards.

The night passed quietly, yet the morning broke with thunder and rain. The heavens opened up just as Mrs. Withers had finished cooking breakfast and the sound of the rain, though soothing to the ear, bothered Olympia. Her cousin and his friend would have a beast of a time getting out to the countryside with all their things in this bout of weather. The power flickered on and off for an hour or so until the young heiress grumbled that it was being oh-so-finicky and it, as if sensing her disdain, resumed its course steadily. With some small sense of relief, she took up a post by the door and waited, book in hand, for the arrival of her visitors.

And soon, they came, the flickering headlights of a cab darting through the windows as it pulled into the drive. Rising from her seat, she sent Miss Rose upstairs for towels and dry socks, then smoothed down the skirt of one of her best dresses and stood beside Mr. Sullivan at the door. She watched through the window, squinting through the incessant speeding drops of rain blurring her sight through the glass, as two figures stepped out of the cab, hands over their heads- Antwon never bothered to look at the weather forecasts, no wonder he lacked an umbrella -and did what they could to get their luggage from the trunk. 

Fish, in a timely manner, hurried out from the toolshed at the foot of the driveway to assist the new arrivals, pointing to the front door. With nods to the groundskeeper, presumably those of thanks, the pair turned and hurried toward the main entrance. Straightening her posture and glancing at the clock on the wall- an old habit -Olympia stepped back from the door, nodded gratefully at Miss Rose as she reappeared at the top of the stairs with the requested items, and let a smile bloom on her face. Mr. Sullivan swiftly opened the door, leaving just enough time for the gentlemen to come inside before he shut it once more against the weather.

"Jesus, what a storm," muttered a familiar jovial voice, and Olympia beamed at her cousin, taking one of the towels from Miss Rose and draping over his shoulders.

"Good to see you, too, Antwon."

She received a gap-toothed grin in response. "I'd hug you, Ollie, it's just-" He glanced up and down at himself. "-I'm a bit damp."

"That's alright," she replied, then turned to see the other arrival.

To her brief surprise, he was staring at her, towel (offered by Miss Rose as her mistress greeted her cousin) half run across his hair. She could tell it had been neatly combed, but the rain had stuck most of it to the top of his head, and his machinations against the water-darkened locks only served to muss it up. In earnest, she thought it was a good look on him. And, to be sure, he was breathtaking to begin with. A smile, unbalanced and appealing, appeared on his lips as he lowered the towel over his shoulders, and she nearly swooned.

"A pleasure to meet you, Miss Bird," he said, his voice a pleasant mix of East Coast accent and educated timbre, taking her offered hand. Instead of shaking it, however, he bowed his head slightly and kissed her knuckles, sending a chill up her arms.

Olympia, for a beat or two, wished she'd worn long sleeves today.

"The same to you, Mister..?"

"Webster. David Webster."

He even had a nice name. Webster, like the dictionary. She liked it. She liked it a lot.

"I hope the weather wasn't too much a trouble," she mused, and he flashed another smile before dropping her hand and resuming his offense against the raindrops amid his hair.

"Other than paying double to get that cab up here, it was no hassle." Antwon paused, rubbing the face of his watch (a family heirloom) with his opposite sleeve. "Well, the rain's not much fun. Or the wind." With a low laugh, he decided, "I've changed my mind, I don't like the weather."

"Well, why don't we get you two some brandy?" she suggested, handing each a pair of dry socks; at both gifts, they muttered thanks.

"That sounds most agreeable, Ollie."

"Doesn't it, now?"

"What a place..." 

While Antwon proceeded down the hall, knowing the layout of the home fairly well from visits in his youth up until today, Olympia watched Webster as he observed the front hall of the estate. His mouth hung open, eyes catching on the paintings, embellished wooden trim, and chandelier-style light in particular. She thought his fascination was, in short, charming.

"I like the library better," Olympia replied, offering him her arm, and he drew his gaze earthbound once more to meet her own.

Webster hesitated a beat, his gaze traversing her face, and she felt her smile creep up at the sides just slightly when she discerned his interest.

"You can call me Olympia, by the way," she added, and he tucked her arm in the crook of his own.

"I'm going to like it here, aren't I?" he mused rhetorically, and she grinned, leading the way down the hall.

"I certainly hope so."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#olympia bird #olympia bird ficlet #olympia bird 2: visitors #oc ficlet #oc fic #oc fanfiction #oc fanfic #band of brothers #band of brothers ficlet #band of brothers fic #band of brothers oc #hbo war show #hbo war #hbo war show oc #hbo war oc #hbo war show fic #hbo war show ficlet #hbo war ficlet #hbo war fic #oc #prose's passion

[sergeant-spoons]

3. Up In a Tree

Olympia Bird

Taglist: @easy-company-tradition @vintagelavenderskies @wexhappyxfew @50svibes @tvserie-s-world @adamantiumdragonfly​

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Morning arose anew, and the sun shone once more, and Olympia Bird had guests!

She rolled out of bed with a smile already on her rosy cheeks and threw open the shutters, humming to herself. As she glanced through her wardrobe, selecting an outfit for the day, she frowned, then backtracked across the room to her étagère. The dark wood presented a dozen or so music boxes, each of them intricate and lovingly cared for, not a single speck of dust on their beings, and she picked up the box she had in mind with tender fingers.

Turning the crank on the bottom, she let the twittering of birdsong spill out of the little machine, marveling, as she always did, that something so small could bring such joy. Ah, she noted, raising a finger at nothing in particular, humming along, there's the note I was missing. She nodded to herself, once, then returned to her bureau and let the music box play its course. Selecting a peach pink dress, flared below the waist and button-up above it, she stepped back, neatly shutting away the rest of her clothes.

The dew on the petals born by the tree just outside her window sparkled in the sunlight as she brushed her hair, gazing out at the grounds of the estate. How lovely it was here, and how lucky she was to call it home, she considered, not for the first nor the last time. Slipping on a pair of well-worn loafers (her mother's, once upon a childhood ago) the young Bird heiress checked her appearance one last time in the mirror before heading out of her bedroom. She took the stairs two at a time, daring to slide down the banister despite the yelp of concern from Mrs. Withers down the hall.

"Good morning!" she declared as she entered the kitchen, beaming, and Antwon raised an eyebrow at her over the coffee mug raised to his lips.

"Since when are you a morning person?"

"Since when do you drink coffee?"

"College." He tilted the drink at her with a gruff nod. "Either you drink this stuff or you'll never get to class on time or finish your assignments each night."

Olympia chuckled as she swung her legs over the lip of her usual chair, fingers brushing over the familiar carved initials: O.L.B. She had taken her father’s pocket knife as a child and scraped the 'O' into the wood before Mrs. Withers found her at it and summoned her parents. Her mother was distraught to have her lovely chair tainted, but her father convinced her to let him finish the letters for their daughter, and it would simply be her chair from then on. And, he promised, it would always face away from the rest of the room.

She still sat at the far end of the table these days, though no one asked her to, anymore.

"Has, ah, your friend risen yet?" she asked, glancing over her cousin's shoulder into the parlor, and pretended not to see the small smirk that flashed across his lips.

"Yes, he's been up since the crack of dawn, the maniac." Antwon rolled his eyes. "He's brilliant with words, but sometimes, I wonder if he's got any idea what he's doing beyond a page."

"Interesting," she mused, "I'll keep your opinion in mind."

"Hey-" He flicked his fork toward her as she nibbled on a slice of toast, murmuring the usual thanks to Mrs. Withers for having prepared the meal. "-don't get all fascinated with him, alright?"

"Why?"

He hesitated, and Olympia glanced away, failing to temper back her smile.

"You're a hopeless romantic, that's why," he eventually replied, swirling the coffee around in his mug, grimacing before taking another sip, "and I don't want your expectations of him to exceed who he actually is."

"Oh, don't worry about me." She patted his arm. "Besides, I just think it's nice to have someone new around here."

He nearly spat out his coffee. "’Someone new’, she says!" The young man turned, shooting an indignant look at Miss Rose. "As if my company isn't worth a penny!"

"Oh, Antwon," his cousin replied, patting his arm with a warm smile, "you know I appreciate you."

He puffed his chest out, and Olympia did not miss how Miss Rose glanced away, hiding her flushed cheeks behind the folding of a towelette.

"As you should!"

She kicked him under the table, but they both laughed, and spirits were light all around. The cousins ate and shared small talk for a few minutes more; she asked about his studies, he questioned how their neighbor the farmer was, and so on, and so forth.

"Say," Olympia mused, gaze straying to the empty third plate for the fourth time in the past few minutes, "you never did say where Webster went."

The clearing of an aging throat interrupted their conversation, and Olympia drew her napkin off her lap as she looked to the archway between the dining room and main foyer. Mr. Sullivan stood there, hands held rigidly at his sides, and his employer tilted her head at him, easily able to tell there was something bothering him.

"Sir," he directed to Antwon, "if I might say, your friend is behaving like a baboon!"

Baffled, Olympia looked to her cousin, but he seemed just as puzzled.

"Whatever do you mean, Mr. Sullivan?" she questioned carefully, rising from her seat, and followed him to the front door.

There, Fish, the ever-patient groundskeeper was fretting, arms crossed, and he started off across the front lawn the moment he saw Olympia appear. Growing ever the more curious, she followed, and at her beckoning, Antwon came too, grumbling at leaving breakfast behind; he brought with him a slice of baguette and a spreading of crumbled cheese to nourish him on the move. Their journey did not lead them far, however, and they arrived at the foot of the disturbance in a mere half-minute. Olympia followed Fish's disapproving gaze up the trunk of one of the oldest trees on the Bird family estate.

Lo and behold, between the leaves and flowers and branches and twigs, nearing the highest possible perch, she caught sight of David Webster. He did not seem to have noticed them yet, as he stared out across the property, half-sitting one of the sturdier limbs. His mouth rested half-open as he studied the landscape, and as Antwon arrived a moment later, his chin lifting as Olympia's just had to look, she could not help but smile. There was a certain boyish charm to finding Webster, sitting in a tree, and she scolded herself for instinctively trying to finish the childhood rhyme, K-I-S-

"Web!"

He looked down, pressing his lips firmly together, and the white of the flowers all around him did him little service to hide the blush creeping onto his cheeks.

"Oh, ah, good morning."

"Isn't it?"

"Hmm?" Starting to climb down, he glanced at her, and almost lost his foothold.

Disregarding the way her heart skipped at the near-miss, she replied, voice still cheerful, now bearing a hint of amusement, "A good morning."

"Oh, yeah. Yes." He cleared his throat, dropping from the last branch.

She ignored the instinctual way her gaze flicked to his forearms as he swung down, muscles taut beneath his sleeves, and ran her pointer finger in a circular motion against the palm of her opposite hand.

"I may never understand you, Webster," Antwon declared wryly, "but I do know you won't want to miss the rest of breakfast. C'mon."

Slinging his arm over his friend's shoulder, Olympia's cousin started to walk back toward the house, and she hesitated until she saw Webster glance back, at her. She broke into a jog for a second to catch up to them, though it wasn't very ladylike, and offered an apologetic wave to Fish, who was still standing beside the tree, seeming quite disgruntled. He would have Mr. Sullivan to vent to, if he desired, and though she knew she should stay behind and vocalize an apology for her guest's unexpected behavior, she was already gone, and a twinge went through her heart at her own selfishness.

Webster offered her his arm as she stepped up beside him, and she was more than happy to accept, if not for Antwon swatting his friend's elbow down and crossing behind him to walk between the pair. They shared a glance over the chattering interloper's shoulders, and Olympia would not be telling the truth had she said the flash of his smile did not bring a light rosy hue to her cheeks. They returned to the front door in short order and all three thanked Mr. Sullivan as he opened it for them to enter. Olympia, glancing at Webster's immaculately-combed hair, stifled a giggle and paused him just inside the foyer.

"Hold still." 

He blinked at her, clearly unsure why she asked, but dutifully did so, and she reached up toward his hair, drawing a twig, two tiny leaves sprouting from its sides, from just above his ear. He looked to the side, at her fingers so close to his face, and the space between his upper and lower jaw shortened visibly. He opened his palm so she could place the twig in his possession, and she did so, deliberately letting her touch brush against his. Perhaps he did not feel the same chill in his fingertips as she did; still, she noticed, quite clearly, and stepped back with a polite nod.

"Thank you."

She almost replied with 'of course', but caught herself, and instead replied, mildly, "Not a problem."

He gave a nod, then another, his gaze flicking to the floor, then back up and down the hall, before he turned toward the dining room. It was only just around the corner, but he offered her his arm anyway, and by the smile that played on his lips, it was more to get back at Antwon's interference a minute or so prior than in the name of courtesy. She stifled her own grin and took up the offer, though had to drop it barely three seconds later as they came to the dining room.

Antwon, as expected, had resumed his ingestion of the delectable hodge-podge Mrs. Withers had somehow scrounged up despite the lack of the usual grocery delivery due to the storm the night before. He now held a newspaper in one hand, and flicked it down dramatically as his cousin and friend took their respective seats, shooting a glance between each.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to let dear Webster and I steal away the afternoon in your precious library, Ollie?" questioned Antwon, and at the implication she would not be invited, she felt slightly put out, but nodded nonetheless.

"Certainly."

Her gaze returned to her breakfast, now mostly cold, and she took a sip of water, the ice nearly all melted in her glass, a distraction from the fresh silence falling upon the table.

Antwon, she thought, I only want to befriend Webster as you have.

But even she could not entirely convince herself that was true.

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