The bar was loud, alive, and full of smoke. Someone had dragged a piano to the corner weeks ago, and now it barely stayed in tune, but no one cared. Laughter echoed against the low rafters, beer glasses clinked, and the air smelled of tobacco, whisky, and rain seeping in from the airfield.

You’d only meant to pass through — a quick question for Harry about tomorrow’s supply run — but the moment you stepped into the room, heads turned. It wasn’t the uniform; everyone wore one. It was the way your hair caught the dim light, the way your cheeks were flushed pink from the wine, eyes bright and alive.

From across the table, John saw you first.

He was half-slouched in his chair, collar open, cap pushed back, a grin playing on his lips as Gale said something that made the whole table roar. But the instant he caught sight of you, his smile softened — that lazy, crooked kind of smile that started in his eyes before it reached his mouth.

“Would you look at that,” he murmured, half to himself, half to the others. “Mrs. Egan in her natural habitat — making the whole damn room stop breathing.”

Gale laughed. “You’re hopeless, Buck.”

Egan didn’t answer. He just watched you weave through the crowd, pretending not to notice him, though he knew you’d seen the way he was looking. You came up behind them, fingers brushing his shoulder lightly.

“Harry, do you know if the—”

You didn’t get to finish. John’s hand caught yours, quick and sure, tugging you closer until you stumbled with a startled laugh. In the next second, he’d pulled you down into his lap, your knees falling across his thighs.

A few men whistled. You gasped, half-shrieking, half-laughing as your hand landed on his shoulder for balance, the other pressed instinctively against his chest. His flight jacket was warm beneath your palm.

“John!” you hissed, mortified, but his grin only widened.

“What?” he said, feigning innocence, eyes bright with mischief. “You’re my wife, aren’t you? Can’t have the boys thinking I don’t know how to keep you close.”

Laughter broke around the table, Harry shaking his head, Gale muttering something about ”fucking decency”, but Egan only winked at them, tightening his arm around your waist.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he said quietly, low enough for only you to hear. “You started a fire the moment you walked in. I’m just keeping watch.”

Your cheeks burned, but you couldn’t quite fight the smile that pulled at your mouth.

And for a moment — in that smoky, crowded bar — the war outside might as well have been a thousand miles away.