Makin' Plans (hbo war imagines)

26. Lew "Chuckler" Juergens; ...For Someone Like Me

(pt. 2 for "Save Your Love")

"Hey, Marshall, right?" Chuckler wore an unnervingly cool grin as he gripped into the other guy's shoulder.

The guy frowned up at him, seeming to immediately take the defensive. "Yeah. What's it to you?"

His answer came as a literal punch to the face.

Marshall, now clutching his bleeding nose, backed away from the larger man. "What the fuck was that for?"

"That," Chuckler loosened his fist and shook it, "was for a friend." Ignoring the many eyes on him, he turned on his heel and walked away.
__________

"Knock knock," a cheery voice announced.

You looked up from the wound you were rebandaging to see the bright smile you had come to look forward to. "Hey, Chuckler." You quickly tied off the bandage and patted the Marine. "You're good to go, Nealy. I'll check it again tomorrow, alright?"

"Alright. Thanks, Y/N," he said before leaving the medical tent.

You turned your attention back to Chuckler. "Are you here to bother me again today?"

"I don't bother you," he scoffed. His smile dropped for a split second. "I don't bother you, do I?"

"No," you laughed, "you don't. I'm just surprised you have as much time to hang around as you do. I don't know what you're going to do when we're all actually doing our jobs."

"I'll be running around hoping to get hurt so you can fix me up."

"That's not funny." You looked up at him, trying your best to convey a serious tone, though his grin made it so hard to be stern. "The last thing I want to see is you with a gaping hole in your side."

"What about a small injury?"

"Like a bruised hand?" You carefully grabbed his hand and held it out to check. "What'd you do to get this?"

Still smiling like an idiot, he lowered his head. "If you wanted to hold my hand, you could have just asked."

You blinked. "What did you do to your hand?"

"It's really nothing." He tried to slip his hand out of yours, but you gripped his wrist. "It's fine."

You let him take his hand back, which he quickly shoved into a pocket, but you didn't miss his slight wince at doing so. "Are you and the boys wrestling for fun? Or did you just deck a coconut tree because it looked at you funny?"

"I guess you could say it was a coconut tree," he mumbled. "Has about as much brains."

You frowned a little, thinking back to the other night. He had never really come off as a fighter—current situation withholding—so the idea that he had been in a fight with someone that wasn't an enemy Japanese soldier was difficult to believe. You remembered the way he had reacted when he found you crying, and you couldn't help but wonder...

"Lew..." your voice trailed off as you decided on what to say and how to say it.

His eyebrows furrowed a bit at this—you hardly called him by his given name anymore. "Yes, Y/N?"

"Who was it?"

"I don't think I understand."

"Yes, you do."

"Who did what?"

"Who did you punch?"

He had yet to master the art of the poker face. "You know what, I think I'm going to leave you alone now. Enjoy some peace and quiet."