This FF started life as a selfish attempt to engage with the new characters. It was a very pleasant surprise to find some have engaged with the first chapter, thank you and I hope you enjoy this. Still not sure if I can make many more one shots!

"I have to go and talk to someone."

"You have to or you want to?" She questioned slowly, batting her eyelids as she looked up at him. Her finger tracing along the collar of his dress uniform.

"I suppose want to, but I don't want to leave you." Molly grinned at his response, enjoying the reassurance of his lips against her forehead. Across the room the sound of a loud guffaw catches her attention, turning towards the noise and watching the high jinks on the dance floor, letting out an involuntary sigh, placing her head against his chest. "You okay?" Looping his hand around her waistline he tugs her closer to him.

"Yeah. Just a bit different to a night down the Earl you know." The response doesn't reassure him, no effort to move to whoever he's decided he needs to speak to, instead she takes control and places her hands on the hard planes of his chest and gently pushes him away. "I'm fine. Honest. You go see whoever you have to see 'n' I'll have a wander. Maybe even get myself another drink."

From the minute they'd arrived his hand had been in hers. She was thankful. Her first Ball was daunting to say the least, but he'd supported her through the worst, and now, with her own two feet, she wanted to see if she could find a sense of belonging in this whole new world.

With a gentle kiss on the tip of her nose, another questioning look into her eyes and a final sigh he left. She stayed where she was, watching him stride away, confident and at ease in his surroundings, knowing she would never tire of the sight of him. Six months they'd been together and though it sounded a respectable amount of time, her Nan already making comments about buying a hat, only in the last 2 months they had the opportunity to get to know each other. His period of intensive rehab and her short tour abroad had curtailed their fledgling relationship. If there hadn't been the kinship, as he liked to call it, she doubted they'd ever have made it. But they had, and they were stronger for it. She'd even mistakenly mentioned the love word, a moment's lack of concentration and it had come spilling out. There was no way she could take it back and he wouldn't have let her even if she could. His response of 'about fucking time Dawsey' was added to the long list of insults which meant the world to her.

Standing on her tiptoes, stretching her the tight calf muscles unused to wearing heels, Molly pivots with the gracefulness of a soldier used to completing 5k runs in combat boots, until her gaze settles on a waiter. She smiles, meeting his eyes, thankful she doesn't recognise him. It had been her biggest worry, someone she knew, had served with, would be expected to wait on her. It wouldn't be right.

Conscious without Charles, her hands have gathered a nervous layer of sweat, Molly smooths the fabric of her dress over her hips, pressing her fingertips into the palms of her hands to check there's no residue left, the last thing she needs is to take a glass of champagne from the waiter and have it slip through her fingers, crashing and splintering onto the highly polished wooden floor, drawing attention to herself.

"You havin' a good night with these bunch of Rupert's?" Molly asks when he's standing in front of her, picking two glasses of cold champagne off the tray and bestowing him with a cheeky grin. She guesses he's a new recruit, his back too straight and an air of nerves, one which she recognises from when the shoe had been on the other foot.

"Ma'am?"

"I ain't a Ma'am. I'm Molly." Taking a tentative sip of her drink, still not convinced about Champagne, give her a vodka and coke any day of the week, she tries to make him feel at ease. "Take it you….. "

"Sir."

It's easy to guess who's standing behind her right shoulder, the cause of the sudden scared wide eyed expression on her new found friends face gives it away even without the way the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as they always do when she's in his presence. She does try but her smile to the young guy isn't enough to reassure, quickly he's backing away from them with a look of fear on his face. "You can wipe that look off your face mate." Without turning she knows he'd be demonstrating the finest of his stern face looks, he might even be slightly pissed off with her.

Bending her knee, angling her foot she finds contact with his body, trailing the tip of her heel down the inside of his left leg. Her actions have the desired effect, his hand wrapping around her body, settling against her hip and pulling her sharply into his body.

"I thought I'd changed your mind about Rupert's." He growls, finding the lobe of her ear with his teeth, gently biting the soft flesh until her body sinks further into his.

Molly's teeth graze her bottom lip, placing her hand over his and holding it against her body, needing to show him there's no truth to her words. "Never rest on your laurels mate. You'll always be a Rupert to me. Did you have a good chat?" She feels his sigh against her neck and before she knows it she's facing him missing one glass of champagne. Unlike her he consumes it in one go. Handing her the empty glass when he's finished. His next words clipped, short.

"I'd like you to meet him. And I want you to be nice okay?"

He's nervous, which surprises her. Not an emotion he normally shows. She often tells him he can do grumpy and moody well, the insecurity of his character doesn't often make public appearances. Her finger trails down the worry line furrowed into his brow. "Of course I'll be nice to him, whoever he is."

"I was just about to tell the pair of you to get a fuckin' room."

Charles sighs at the interruption, his hand extending towards the man standing quietly in front of them, nonchalantly drinking a bottle of beer, acting like he's already bored. "Molly Elvis, Elvis Molly."

"What you the bleedin' entertainment for the night?"

"If you want to be funny you're going to have to be a bit more original than that darlin'"

"Think your mum was original enough for all of us with that name." She is fascinated. Something captivating about him; a confidence he doesn't care what people's impressions are of him or a pretence he doesn't give a shit, she wasn't entirely sure. Even the flash of annoyance in his eyes at her response is attempted to be controlled. Taking more interest in the drink in his hand and the people on the dance floor behind her. It gives her time to study him.

He's the same height as Charles, slimmer but where her soulmate gives the impression a fight would be his last form of defence, the Officer standing in front of her wouldn't think twice about taking that course of action. An air of danger to him. There's no denying he is beautiful in appearance, mediterranean in the colour of his skin, dark eyes and glossy black hair. His accent, similar to hers surprised her, she'd almost been disappointed when he'd opened his gob and spoken to her with a London accent.

"Christ Charlie, I thought you couldn't do any worse than Rebecca…."

"Charlie? Charlie?" She giggles, verging on the hysterical, pleased to see a smile tugging at the corner of Charles mouth at her response. Her Nan had once called him Charlie, his cheeks had coloured, mumbling a 'my name is Charles.' It was a brave thing to do with her Nan, once she sensed a weakness she never let it go. A testament to the adoration of her grand-daughters boyfriend she had continued to call him Charles. "You've never said anyone calls you fucking Charlie." Molly tilts her head back, closing her eyes and tries out the new sound. She likes it.

"Maybe she's better than Rebecca." Opening her eyes, she finds Elvis is making eye contact, a twinkle in their depths. However, the smile is wiped of Charles face, or so he wants to give the impression.

"What, she pisses herself laughing at my name and you promote her in your estimation?"

"Basically yeah."

"Fuckin' dick." Charles replies, affection in his tone.

"Fuckin' twat."

Molly raises the two empty glasses, clinking them together. "If you're both gonna' continue with your testosterone fuelled bromance I'm gonna' need another drink. Need something to settle my stomach feelin' a bit queasy for some reason."

Shrugging, Elvis takes a swig of beer then studies his half full bottle. "I'm half empty, don't need topped up. Your shout Charlie."

She wants to change her mind, in her grand plan it was Elvis who would piss off and get her a drink. Spending time in his company isn't on her list this evening. Something about him makes her unsettled, trying to suss it out, knowing other than an observation of his good looks she doesn't find him attractive. Narrowing her eyes trying to see the bloke behind the pretty face.

He was never still she notices, checking his watch too often, his eyes constantly flicking around the room, looking for someone possibly, but if it was the case, he'd look eager, enthusiastic. In reality his expression never changes from indifference.

She may as well get this over with. Handing her empty champagne flutes over to Charles. "Can you get me a beer this time. I don't think champagne is quite my bag."

"Elvis, anything?"

"I'm good mate."

"So you persuaded him to stay in?" Elvis asks when his friend is safely out of earshot.

"I didn't persuade him. I just didn't get involved when he talked about leaving, was just like yeah whatever mate." She shrugs. "Didn't take long for his letters to start talking about maybe rethinkin' it all. Sayin' he didn't want to be too hasty. Told him it was a good idea as I didn't think I'd fancy him if he was sittin' about on his arse all day. Seemed to do the trick."

"Well I'm glad you did."

"What you gonna' thank me?"

"Eh no, he wouldn't have been thinking of leaving if it wasn't for you in the first place."

Wonderful, thinks Molly, his attitude obviously to do with her and Charles relationship. He isn't the first to disapprove and he won't be the last. She clears her throat, attention on the floor, waiting for the moment to pass. Prior experience has taught her to keep her gob shut, people have their opinions, only her, Charles, her parents, her brothers and sisters, his parents, 2 Section and Major Beck's had mattered - eventually.

"Shit sorry."

"What?" She asks confused.

"I don't.. I get… I'm happy for the pair of you. He's been like a different bloke." Elvis brings his shoulders up, his expression bordering on the friendly. "You're good for each other and that's what matters ain't it?"

"Yeah I think so."

"I think you only get once chance in life at love, you've got to grab it." Fascinated she watches, his expression finally gives something away. A haunted look she's seen on squaddies faces when they talk about having lost someone. Goodness who's she kidding; it's a look she recognises from the face in the mirror when she thinks about Smurf, sees it on Charles face when he's comforting her.

"So what 'bout you. Any significant others?"

Taking a step back and leaning against the wall he gives her a sideways glance. "Nosey ain't you?"

"Or making conversation. Depends on your point of view."

"Charlie never said anything to you?"

"About what?"

"Me?"

"Should he of?

"Nah." The already familiar shutters come down across his eyes.

Retreating into her own world, she processes the news Charles has kept something from her. It doesn't sit easy. Scanning the guests, wanting to see him and reassure herself if it was important he wouldn't hold anything back. Even silently arguing with herself everyone has some secrets, she hasn't told him everything about her family but still, this is the first time in their relationship this has happened.

His dark curls are easy to spot, even in a room full of soldiers, still one of the tallest threading his way back towards them. Meeting her gaze almost immediately. She knew he too had been looking for her. Concern on his face reading her expression. Reaching them, handing her the bottle and gathers her against him. "Everything okay?" Words asked against her hair.

"Fine."

"Really?"

Elvis checks his watch, finished his beer, aware he's surplus to requirements. "Well I'd better get off, leave you two lovebirds to do.. Well.. whatever love birds do. Good seeing you Charlie."

"You too." They shake hands, for a minute it looks like neither are going to let go. "Let's not leave it so long the next time." Charles words shifts a harshness on Elvis's face, smiling naturally for the first time. Molly realises she likes him, a gentleness to his expression when he leans down, kissing her cheek. God, half her single mates tongues would be hanging out in his company.

"Nice meeting you Molly, look after yourself and look after him, he's getting old."

The way Charles watches him walking away, a look of guilt on his face brings out Molly's compassionate side, it's never far away when it comes to him, they've been through so much together in such a short space of time. "So you and Elvis, you ain't ever mentioned him before?" She whispers.

"It's been difficult for a while. We've disagreed about a few things. Happened when you went on tour." Smoothing a strand of hair behind her ear, watching her reaction carefully. "I could tell you about it if you want? But really it's his story to tell."

The calmness in her nut is back. Holding him close, she enjoys his familiar heat. "You're alright, probably something shit like he took the piss out of your singing."