Band of Brothers Imagines

Motorbike - Donald Malarkey x Reader

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You heard the door of your small laundry creak behind you, and turned to see who'd entered so early; you weren't expecting any soldiers until at least midday to be collecting their clean washing or dropping off any dirty garments. Stood there was your most regular customer: Donald Malarkey. You wondered just how he got through so much washing, he came in at least every other day, almost always with some hardly believable story as to why his clothes needed cleaning so soon.

"Hello, Don, got more laundry today?" you grinned, waiting to hear what ridiculous story he'd come out with next.

"Yeah, Skip got mud all over this one," he handed you some only slightly muddy clothes.

"Aren't soldiers supposed to be muddy?" you laughed lightly, placing the clothes on your pile for the day.

"Not in England, what would the pretty ladies of Aldbourne say if I went around with mud on my jacket?" Malarkey flashed that signature smile of his that was somehow cheeky and innocent in equal measure.

"I can't speak for every woman in Aldbourne, but I really wouldn't mind a little bit of dirt," you winked, but then felt your cheeks flush a deep pink, suddenly embarrassed at your over-confident remark.

"Are we going to put that to the test?" Don asked with an optimistic chuckle. "Can I take you on a date?"

"Well, I suppose it's the natural progression of things when I've spent the last few weeks cleaning your underwear. Tomorrow, pick me up here at 7.30?"

"As the lady desires," Don turned to leave, and you'd be lying if you said your gaze didn't linger on his broad shoulders and thirst-inducing biceps.

///

The motorbike sped through rural England's narrow, winding country roads, most of which were flanked by overgrown hedges or rolling fields, occasionally inhabited by a lopsided scarecrow. You held onto your hat, crouched in the sidecar, wondering where on earth Don was taking you. Soon enough he stopped the motorbike in front of a field which at first glance looked just like the others you'd past. Upon waking into the field however, you felt that you were floating on a cloud, so soft was the luxuriant grass beneath your feet. Don lay a blanket on the grass, gallantly holding your hand as you tried with as much grace as possible to sit on the ground.

///

The two of you had eaten the picnic that Don had brought and had watched the beautiful bright orange sunset, all the while talking about your lives before the war.

"Next time I'm going to take you to London to see Glenn Miller, he really is something special," Malarkey smiled at you, a grin that lit up his eyes and made him almost glow with happiness.

"Bold of you to assume there's going to be a next time, who says I haven't found a RAF squadron leader with a nice house in the country?"

"He'd still be no match for me, are you really saying you can resist this smile?" Don chuckled. A small smirk danced on your lips as you tried and failed to think of a witty retort, too taken in by the beautiful man sitting in front of you who'd spent two months making up stupid excuses to come to your laundry and who'd made you a picnic on your first date, instead of taking you to a darkened cinema and getting handsy like the other soldiers you'd made the mistake of agreeing to go out with.

"I don't think I can," you eventually settled on saying, taking pleasure in seeing the way his face lit up even more and his cheeks flushed to a shade that almost matched his hair.

"Do you think that, um, you could maybe write to me? While I'm over there?" Don didn't need to elaborate on where 'there' was, you both knew.

"I'd be honoured," you could feel your cheeks burning up and looked down at the blanket, playing with the hem of your skirt.

"What's your address?" Don asked, getting a small scrap of paper and a pencil out of his pocket.

"20 Main Street, Aldbourne, Wiltshire."

"And what's your full name?"

"Y/N Malarkey," as you as you'd said it, you realised your mistake and you sat there frozen in embarrassment, too ashamed to even look at Don. Eventually you regained your composure a little and braved looking up at him. He was looking at you intently, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips, but without a hint of mockery.

"Moving a little fast there, aren't we?" Don laughed a little, but reached over to squeeze your hand, showing you there was no need to be embarrassed.

"Y/N Y/L/N," you managed to squeak out.

"Who knows, maybe one day you'll be Mrs Malarkey for real," Don winked at you as he began to tidy the picnic things.

"Now who's moving fast!" you giggled. Neither of you could know it then, nor in the harsh months that followed, but exactly two years later, on the anniversary of that very first date, you would indeed become Mrs Malarkey for real.