Mastermind

Chapter 22

A/N: Also a fun one that I think you will enjoy haha! As always, let me know what you think and reminder that my requests for this fic are open!
Chapter Text

Late May 1944

Ruth found that sleep was running away from her, far away—in the other direction as fast as it could. And it wasn't just because the invasion of Normandy was coming up and that was in and of itself stressful to every single person on the damn base, but more so for those who were planning the thing. Her lack of sleep was very simple, really.

After reaching the 28 missions, Rosie had insisted that he stay and the rest of the men could go home on their tour. Which would have been fine and dandy, and Ruth probably would still be sleeping just fine—except for the fact that Abe had insisted on staying by Robby's side. The boy had every opportunity and chance to go home and he didn't want to go. Didn't want to leave Robby without a proper navigator. Didn't want to leave Ruth on her own with Liesel.

So now Ruth was left with Robby and Abe still going up in the skies for godforsaken missions that always left her feeling worse than before. Because surely, the more they went up, the more likely God would be to strike them down for challenging their good fortune and fate. You don't tempt God like that, you just don't. And no amount of Ruth's prayers were going to change that.

That was her first problem. Her second problem was Robert Rosenthal entirely. Ever since the mission number had been changed, things had been off. She'd been the same as always, clinging to her own biting remarks and sarcastic comments—the thrill of arguing with one another ever so appealing. He had been the one to take a step back from all of that and be so sickeningly nice to her that there was almost no appeal in being mean to him anymore.

But that wasn't what was keeping her up at night.

No, the thing that kept her up at night was that damningly haunting kiss that she was certain would linger in the back of her mind like some sort of tattoo or brand. It never should've happened in the first place, heat of the moment be damned. She shouldn't have propelled that or encouraged that sort of behavior, not when her reputation was already practically in shambles.

She had heard what some of the new men had been calling her. Rosenthal's bitch. Rosenthal's whore. As if she were some sort of property or object that belonged singularly to Robert Rosenthal—as if he could ever be so lucky to hold even a fraction of her time or affections in any universe. She hadn't minded the names before, but the tie to Robby was more than enough to make her blood boil.

That stupid Major with his stupid promotion and his stupid mustache and his stupid hair gel and his stupidly soft hands that she wished were touching her right now in this moment and goodness, she was feeling quite heated and damp and—

Ruth sat straight up in the bed. Hell no, not today. No more wet dreams about Robert freakin' Rosenthal, not today, not ever. No thank you, Lord. It only took her a few seconds to glance at the clock and be annoyed. It was far too early for the day to have started but she didn't really have a choice now.

Starting her prayers, she immediately prayed for the physical attraction to Robert Rosenthal to cease immediately—because that just wasn't fair or right, after all. After finishing up her prayers, Ruth hurried to dress.

As soon as she had entered the bathroom, she found Liesel knocking at the door. Ruth felt a modicum of guilt run through her—Liesel's sleep shouldn't suffer just because Ruth was feeling particularly horny. God, maybe she should've just taken Bucky's advice and gotten laid or something.

"It's early, you should get some sleep," Ruth apologized quietly.

"You said you'd help me with my English," Liesel replied quietly.