Imagines. | Band of Brothers [𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡]

shut up, kid. | johnny martin

as requested by an anon on tumblr

thank you Angelica_writes_ for the letter idea 💓 check out her writing plsplsyou won't regret

***

"Just say it," you hissed, leaning towards Sergeant Johnny Martin in your makeshift rendezvous meeting place, which was by the latrines, "You have to tell him eventually, and it'll be worse if you wait too late." You brought your hand to your nose, the place absolutely smelled and you had no idea why he chose to speak to you here, of all places.

Sergeant Martin had come to you, seeking advice, when he received a letter from his wife stating Bill Guarnere's brother had gotten killed in Monte Casino. He had no clue if he should tell him or not. Being the only female in the paratroopers, he believed the best advice for something so sensitive would come from you. Now you stared at the man that used to scare you, definitely not looking scary now with his eyebrows furrowed in thought.

"How do you suggest I do it?" he suddenly asked, his voice still low, but finally giving in to your urging, "I can't just go up to him and say 'Hey, Bill. Surprise!' Right?" He crossed his arms in front of him, shaking his head, "A real shame."

You glared at him, teasingly lifting your arm as though to smack him. "Are you serious? That's a terrible idea, sir. What's wrong with you?"

"Shut up, kid," Johnny replied, rolling his eyes at you, "What do I do then?"

You thought for a moment, tapping your chin a few times. "I got it," you exclaimed, raising a finger, and Sergeant Martin exhaled sharply, "Leave it in your jump jacket, and then switch jackets with him. He'll find it, read the letter, and figure it out himself."

"Well, fuck," Johnny looked down at you, after pausing to think, a sly smile forming on his face, "That might the smartest thing you've ever said in the two years I've known you, Y/N."

You grinned at him smugly, saluting him. "Anytime, sir."

"I owe you big time, kid."

The next day, as you put on your jump jacket to prepare for the jump into Europe, you silently prayed to yourself. You could see Bill and Johnny speaking, and you hoped it was going better than either of you expected. Sergeant Martin approached you, helping you put everything back on.

"Thanks for helping me out, Y/N. You're a smart kid. That might've been the hardest thing I've ever had to do," he sighed sadly, helping you pull your pack onto yourself.

You saw Bill walking away through your peripherals, his head down in sadness. It was the right thing to do. "I assure you, sir, that that's just the beginning. We're gonna be doing a lot harder things from then on," you smiled, a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. You were jumping into combat after all.

Johnny smiled at you and smacked your helmet, making your ears ring, "I better see you in Normandy, kid."

***

You did, in fact, see him in Normandy. Then Holland. Then the forests of Belgium, where he made sure you were fed, warm, and safe, despite everything going on. Sergeant Martin took care of you, always insisting that he owed you one, even though all the things he had done for you greatly surpassed the little advice you had given him before you had jumped.

You sat, lost in thought, realising how long ago that day felt, the day he had first smacked your helmet. He had done that so many times more since then.

Johnny sat beside you now under a tree, eating. Your food long finished, you watched as the Heffron and Spina convinced everyone to sing with them. You couldn't help but smile, there was nothing the Krauts could do that would drag any of you down.

"I got something for you, kid," Johnny suddenly said, pulling out a letter from his pocket, "I haven't read it. It's from the lady back home, she addressed it to you." You knew he was lying, you could tell from his eyes- He read everything.

Tearing the letter open eagerly, your eyes quickly scanned the page, a smile dancing on your lips. His wife stated that you reminded him of his little sister, and that he promised himself on D-Day that he'd get you home alive. That nearly made you tear up. Suddenly wrapping your arms around him tightly, you thanked him.

"Get off me," he grumbled, but he hugged you tightly in return, "What'd she say?"

"She said you're an asshole," you stuck your tongue out, "And apologised for giving me the responsibility of dealing with you."

"Oh, shut up, kid."

***

Easy Company had made it all the way to Haguenau, and despite the war, this was the first time you felt like the young woman you were in a long time. You were laying on a mattress on the floor, crying.

You heard Liebgott and Jackson speaking in hushed whispers, evidently worried about you. You assured them you were fine, but each assurance came with another stifled sob. Suddenly, they both left the room in a hurry, probably scared off by your tears. You continued to cry in silence, rubbing your already red nose with your gloved hand. Since Bastogne and Foy, you were sure nothing could hurt you, but a simple letter from your home made your chest hurt.

"Hey, kid," Sergeant Martin said, upon entering the room. He sat on the mattress beside you, resting a hand on your head, "Lieb and Jackson told me you needed my help. What's up?"

"My dog died," you whimpered into the pillow, handing him a letter you got from home. You were still lying down, but turned so you could look at him. He folded the letter after reading it and stuffed it in your jacket pocket.

"That's a shame. How old was he?" he asked, not looking you in the eye.

"Twelve," you mumbled, pressing your head against a pillow. Liebgott and Jackson returned, still whispering, and sat on the bed across from yours, smiling at you sympathetically. Johnny pursed his lips at them, and they quickly looked away, pretending they weren't just staring at you.

"Twelve years huh?" he started, rubbing your back gently, "Dogs live 7 years every year we live right? Maybe he gave all his 12 years to us." He seemed proud of that analogy.

For a minute you paused, sitting there in silence as Sergeant Martin comforted you.

You sat up, crossed your legs and stared at him, and he looked at you expectantly. "Sir, that might just be the dumbest thing I've ever heard you say," you grinned, hugging him tightly. You heard Liebgott and Jackson sigh in relief.

He hugged you back, before pulling away and slapping you on the back of the head, "Shut up, kid."

***

a/n: ahh this is not romantic WHATSOEVER since he mentioned his wife in episode 1 and i definitely wanted to use that to think of something wholesome.

i hope you enjoy reading this! thank you for still reading.

with love,

𝓖.