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lieutenant-speirs · 1 year

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Sitting across the table from you, Sergeant Martin had been watching you rapidly zone out from the conversation of theo ther soldiers around you. “Hey Peanut… You okay?” the endearing little nickname falling from Sergeant Martin’s softened voice pulled you back from your thoughts.

Your eyes shift over to his features, which were studying yours intensely. You simply nodded and gave him a small smile. One he did not return, but merely raised his brows slightly. “Really? ‘Cause it looks like you’re about to cry.”

You try to maintain your smile but you can feel your lips twitching as they fight to drop the smile, tears welling up in your eyes before you even had a chance to blink them back. “I’m fine.” you stupidly try to convince him, knowing your teared-up features were evident that you were lying. The wobble in your voice only adding to your lie.

Instead of just sitting there and arguing with you, Sergeant Martin gave a small tilt of his head, a gesture of ‘come on’ indicating for you to follow as he stood up. You slowly rose too, not wanting to bring unwanted attention to yourself for breaking down. Keeping your gaze down, you followed Sergeant Martin outside as he lead you around the side of the building that offered a little privacy. Soldiers were still walking around but none were within eavesdropping distance. Few might be able to catch glimpses over ruins of the stone fence but that was something that couldn’t be helped with the foot traffic of soldiers on guard, on patrol, carrying out whatever duties were required of them.

Sergeant Martin took his typical position when he wasn’t impressed; arms crossed at his chest, intense gaze, shoulder leaning against the brick wall of the building. However, it wasn’t because he wasn’t impressed by the situation, rather…it was fucking freezing. But this was as private as could offer right now. You’ve all gone through worst. Bastogne, notably. Blue eyes on you, he patiently waited for you to say something but you kept your eyes down on the ground, as though you suddenly found his muddy boots incredibly interesting… The texture, the colour, the small cracks of the mud still embedded on the leather boot…the contrast of the brown mud against the grey stones of debris that-

“Peanut….?” His voice pulled you out of your thoughts and your eyes quickly flickered to his, as intense as his gaze was, there was a softness showing through his blue orbs.

You swallowed down the whimper that arose in your throat, giving a small laugh instead; a nervous tic of yours, before your eyes finally lifted to the grey skies which mirrored everything you felt. You pursed your lips together and ran your tongue along your lips before slowly letting go, only for your teeth to catch your bottom lip and pressing hard, not enough to draw blood… but enough to try to ground you in that moment.

Brows that were generally either downturned when your bad, or resting when you’re happy (your only two moods), were now upturned in a worried manner. Letting go of your bottom lip, you let out a small gasp before finally finding the words to explain…Eyes resting on a focal point on the stone wall. Anything but directly at your Sergeant. He didn’t seem to mind.

“I…um…I got a letter….” you started but then stopped. In your mind, it explained everything. But to Sergeant Martin, it explained nothing except that you must’ve received some bad news. So he gently prompted, “A dear John letter…?”

“No.” you laughed softly, the idea so absurd that someone might actually like you in that sense… The laughter quickly died down as a painful emotion washed over your features “A…It’s um…My…Dad. He died.” “…I’m so sorry….” came the hushed apology as Sergeant Martin’s heart dropped. It was all he could say. Despite his usually tougher exterior, he was still extremely sympathetic in situations like these. It’s never easy losing your parents. You shook your head. You didn’t want sympathies. They don’t bring back the dead and you’re not the type to fall weak to it. “How’s your Mom?” “I don’t know…ask my Dad? They should be reunited now but I’m…stuck here without them. All alone.” Sergeant Martin watched as your smile at small attempt at humour quickly faded into sobs. Everything you had at home was gone. It was just you, your mum and your dad. And then just you and your Dad.

Your Dad couldn’t sign up for the war due to his declining health. But you could. And you did. To make him proud.

But when you signed up for the war to become a medic, you thought you’d be assisting in medical tents near the front lines… not actually be on the front lines. You took it all in stride but you never anticipated the pain of working tirelessly only for the wounded to die on you, you never anticipated watching your friends die before your eyes or underneath your working hands…

And now this.

The one thing the War couldn’t touch… and still managed to rip your only other loved one away from you.

Sergeant Martin knew how strong you were. Many of the men doubted you, shamefully including him, but they were all proven wrong by your strength and resilience. You had become their boulder; a safe and stable place to lean on. In the end, he was glad you were part of his platoon.

The division was split up into platoons. There were two medics; you and Doc Roe. You got paired with, what you thought, were the meanest assholes of the group. You were slowly proven wrong. Probably because when they bite, you bit back harder. Thus earning their respect because you could hold your own. Sergeant Martin had been the trickiest to earn his respect. But in time you did.

You certainly didn’t think a day would come where you would be the one needing a shoulder to cry on.

A hand flew to your mouth to stifle the sobs that finally rose from where they had been squashed down for days, your other hand resting on your knee to steady yourself as you hunched over.

“Oh, peanut…” you heard him softly mutter that endearing nickname before you felt yourself being pulled against him as he hands wrapped around your arms and guided you upright into his chest. His arms immediately wrapping tightly around you. His lips pressing against the side of your head as his arms were strategically placed so it wasn’t inappropriate. One arm around the upper middle of your back, the other arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you firmly to him.

Any strength you had that you were holding onto, immediately melted beneath the warmth of his embrace and your heartbroken cries soon turned to muffled cries as you turned your head into his chest and trembled violently with each sob that racked your body. As muffled as they were, they still caught the attention of nearby soldiers who would either look around for the source of the sound, or they’d see it but the death stare from Sergeant Martin over the top of your head was enough to keep them moving. He had to wonder whether anyone else in the building could hear you.

Sergeant Martin felt a tight tug at his jacket and then two little points of pressure at his sides, coming to realise that you had moved your hands to grip him for support. “Breathe, Peanut…” he reminded you when your sobs threatened to turn into hyperventilation. His hand soothingly rubbing your back in an attempt to ground you and calm you down. But he never hushed you. Just simply being a friend to lean on and letting you get it out. You’re no good to them if your mind is preoccupied elsewhere while on assisting on missions as their standby medic. And they can’t rely on Doc Roe when he’s currently needed elsewhere.

Lieutenant Speirs walked past and his eyes zero’d in on the source of the sound. An unreadable expression on his face…. Disapproval? He looked questioning at Sergeant Martin but the Sergeant merely pressed his lips together and give an ever so slight shake of his head, indicating bad news from home and that you weren’t alright. “Best get yourselves inside, Sergeant. No point standing out in the cold. Thought you had enough of that in Bastogne.” “Will do, Sir.” “Get yourselves a cup of tea, too.”

No, it wasn’t disapproval. It was a situation where Speirs wanted to help but didn’t know how. Little did the Lieutenant know that by simply offering the suggestion of a tea, was plenty help in itself.

This wasn’t a situation like Blythe. He saw Sergeant Martin offering comfort to the one person everyone thought would break at the very beginning but proved them all wrong… obviously it was something more than a feeble case ‘I’m scared’.

Lieutenant Speirs knew.

Blue eyes watched as Speirs walked away without a second glance to you both.

Your sobs had quietened down and Sergeant Martin loosened his arms around your back and rubbed your arms. “Lieutenant Speirs has a point. It’s fucking freezing. You right to go inside?” “Yeah. Let me just take a moment.”

Sergeant Martin stepped back a little bit but he stayed a moment longer, not leaving that personal space where there’s barely a gap between you. Just in case you needed an extra hug. Which, deep down you did but he’s already done so much. You smiled a wobbly smile up at him as you took a step back and inhaled a shaky breath. “You go in. I need a moment.” you reassured him. He looked like he didn’t believe you, and probably didn’t, but nevertheless he gave you that warning look that you all knew not to fuck things up, and left to turn the building and walk back inside.

You wiped at your face and leaned back against the brick wall. Sighing harshly and closing your eyes to the heavens. God, you didn’t think it’d hurt so much to lose your Dad but it did. It hurt knowing that you haven’t even turned 30 yet, and you lost both your parents already. This wasn’t supposed to happen for another 20 or so years! You took in deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down and place a reality check on yourself. You’re alive. It’s more than you can say for many that died in vain…

Sergeant Martin walked back inside the abandoned building and began barking orders. “Webster! Brew some tea. Everyone else…” his voice dropped to a more serious tone as he walked over to where the majority of his boys were. They were a little team, situated in an abandoned building while awaiting new orders. The whole squadron on standby. “A certain little peanut out there isn’t doing too good and needs our support.” “What happened?” “Bad news from home.” “We all get bad news from home, Sarge. Dear Johns…Dear Janes…” “No. Not when the only family you have left is gone.” The intense stare that Sergeant Martin has, made sure to dead-stare everyone individually until these thick imbeciles of his finally got the message. “The Old Man?” Malarkey quietly asked. Sergeant Martin simply nodded. Malarkey swore quietly under his breath. It’s no lie to say that Malarkey is well-liked by everyone, and he gets along with everyone. So it’s no surprise that he knows more than Sergeant Martin would. You having told Malarkey many stories, and him swapping his own. So, he fills the rest of the team in as to why this was more serious than some random family member dying. “(y/n) lost their Mom years ago to TB or Pneumonia or somethin’… Parents had a child before (y/n) but it died. Ended up bein’ just them and their old man. No siblings. No Aunts or Uncles.”

Again, Sergeant Martin let that small piece of news sink in before he spoke again. “Which is why I want you to all sit up at the table and give them the support they need. Do I make myself clear?”

A low, hushed chorus of ‘Yes Sarge’ was given before Sergeant Martin walked away and the boys went back to doing what they were doing. Some were playing cards, some were reading books or letters, some were writing letters, some were making conversations.

Sergeant Martin’s gotta hand it to them though…. Because as soon as you walked down the stairs, neither of the boys looked up or treated you with special treatment. They carried on as if nothing happened. Malarkey glanced up from smoking his cigarette quietly but said nothing. He watched you walk outside with Sergeant Martin so it’s no surprise he’s a little curious.

Sergeant Martin walked over with two cups of tea and passed you one. “Thank you” you politely said as you wrapped your cold fingers around the warmth of the mug. It’s not as warm as Sergeant Martin’s hugs but it’ll do. Another tilt of his head towards the table was given and you followed quietly as you both sat down with your tea. The teabags were stale but it was better than nothing and a somewhat nice break from the terrible coffee.

Malarkey had swapped smoke for tea as he poured himself a cup and walked over to join you at the table. You glanced over at your friend and smiled softly, he smiled back but said nothing. Malarkey barely smiles these days but when he does… it’s rather sweet. However, he had since watched his two bestfriends die and that did a number on him. Just like the letter you received had done to you.

Liebgott made his way over with his own cup of tea and sat down with a huff, rolling his head back and slouching in an uncomfortable position that’s probably comfortable to his long limbs.

Slowly… one by one… including Webster, who received a small nod rather than a death-stare from Sergeant Martin, made their way over and sat down at the table.

Everyone was silently sipping away at their tea until Sergeant Martin broke the silence. “Since we’re all here, I want to make a toast.” “Hear, hear!” “To peanut… we couldn’t get through most of our days without you ordering us around like a mother hen. Both your parents would be proud.” “To Peanut!” Liebgott said as he raised his cup of tea a little, followed by everyone else who chorused a ‘To peanut!’ making you laugh.

Why do you get the feeling the nickname is going to stick?

You raised your mug politely with a soft laugh.

Malarkey leaned over, his shoulder bumping against yours as he quietly reminded you, “You’re never alone, (y/n). You have us. We’re not much, but you have us.” You bumped your shoulder against his, laughing softly “Thank you, Malark.”

You sat there, quietly listening to everyone. Cold fingers wrapped around the warm mug of tea, nursing the warm liquid. You glanced up and saw Sergeant Martin watching you. You smiled softly, mouthing a ‘Thank you’ and he simply smiled back and gave a wink.

#Operation Peanut Endearment #Sergeant John Martin x Reader #John Martin x Reader #Johnny Martin x Reader #TW: Grief #TW: Loss of Parents #The fic started out strong and then I don't know what happened #but it's long overdue on my to-do list so I'mma post it #Have it - take it - I don't care #Not my best but not my worst #Could be better #Soft spot for Sergeant John Martin tho #He'd give the best hugs

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