Makin' Plans (hbo war imagines)

4. Bill "Hoosier" Smith; A Different Kind of Word Vomit

Y/n/n= your nickname

His dry humor and unmissable accent were the two things that stuck out to you immediately. That might have been why you found yourself so emotionally attached. Of course, it could have also been the way he'd look over when he made a joke because he knew you'd laugh. Or the smirk he wore, oblivious to the effect it had. Or the way he could still be a badass while wrapped up in a blanket, nuzzling noses with a dog.

Choosing favorites seemed so silly considering the literal war at your feet, but of all the men in How Company, Hoosier was your guy. You would follow him to the ends of the Earth since you were already right beside him in battle.

Had you not been properly trained, you know you'd be tripping over your feet for him. But somehow your brain—and your heart—knew this wasn't the place to become a fool in love. You tread carefully. You were there to do your part, not bring home a husband.

But on the other hand...

No.

The angel and devil on your shoulders were yelling at each other, at you. You swore the little devil pushed you to look over at him. Hoosier was asleep, as you should be too. Your moments of peace were numbered.

You could make out his outline and some vague features in the moonlight. You didn't need the light to know how relaxed he looked when he slept. You'd seen him at rest on several occasions during your shared time in the Solomon Islands. It almost made you forget that you were both Marines, here to fight the Japanese.

Almost.

The same little devil—or maybe this time it was the angel—reminded you of your stolen moments together in Melbourne. It wasn't intimate, but the most intimate either of you would allow.

"I know you were just wanting to catch up on sleep, Hoos," you'd started, and he gave you a curious look, which always looked stern. "But I want to just go around and see the town, and I don't want to go alone."

He sighed, giving you a sideways glance to see your hopeful face. "Yeah, sure. Let's go explore then, Y/n/n."

You made promises of drinking with the others for later—"I'll pay for a round when we get there. No, we'll meet you there."—and you two took off down the bustling street.

You had a naturally quick pace, but Hoosier much preferred to casually stroll. You found yourself consciously slowing yourself down to keep in step with him. Then you'd get excited about something up ahead again and end up ten paces in front.

"Wait for me," he laughed, catching up to you. "Good Lord, Y/n/n, nobody's chasing you here."

"Well, you just were, weren't you?" You were feeling cheeky. Not to mention the streets of Melbourne felt too much like being home. You almost forgot you were thousands of miles away, as long as you didn't listen to the locals' too closely. You could  have your little luxury in flirting.

He hid a smile and rolled his eyes.

Many drinks between you both several nights of your free time had built a different bond from the one formed on the battlefield. Battle buddies and now drinking buddies.

"Didn't expect you to hold your liquor so well," he had admitted after a few too many.

You were now squinting to focus your vision, but you had held up pretty well. Throwing him a cheesy grin, you nodded. "Practiced," was your only answer along with a wink.

He frowned, slightly confused, but left it alone. Neither of you ever felt like sharing too much about your lives outside of this. It had become an unspoken thing between you two.

You walked back to the stadium, holding each other for balance and giggling about everything that came to sight or mind.

Now, laying in a cot with mosquitoes eating you alive, you realized that you knew nothing of the man across from you outside of the context of this. Being a Marine. Being in the middle of a war.

So... was what you felt love? Was it circumstantial? Would you feel the same once you were home? Or would peacetime drain the feelings you had allowed to fester and infect your heart?

No one back home had ever made you so... uncomfortable. That's what made you sure this was you falling in love. Everything about what you felt for Hoosier made your stomach want to send what little you'd eaten back the way it came. It made you itch. It made you cry sometimes. Most of all, it made you question how well you could discern others' intentions.

Was he nice because he felt something back? Or was this just what his friendship felt like? Did he try to sit close to you because he wanted to be nearest to you? Or had you always been leaving the space for him?

At this point, you'd let it get too far with no conclusion in sight. You had to know.

God, I'm going to be sick, you thought before bolting out of the tent to throw up the contents of your stomach. You stood there, hands on your knees, catching your breath. What you would do for a glass of good water right now...

"Y/n/n?" a familiarly groggy voice mumbled behind you.

"Sorry. Did I wake you up?"

He blinked. "No, it was someone else retching in the dead of night that woke me up. Something wrong?"

You took a couple of steadying breaths before turning around. "Yeah, Hoose. I just-" You glanced at the splatter behind you. "I puked."

He nodded and gestured for you to come back in. "I'll get you something to drink. Go lay down."

You curled back into your cot, trying—and failing—to get comfortable. You pulled the blanket to your nose and squeezed your eyes shut. Your stomach still hadn't quite settled, but you knew the root of the issue.

Hoosier squatted next to your cot, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, a cup in his hand. "Hey."

Your eyes flew open and the sight of his face so close to yours made a smile grow. You sat up gingerly and took the cup, slowly drinking the not-quite-right water. "Thanks," you whispered.

He gave you a sleepy smile. "Aw, it's nothing. You get some sleep." He started to get up.

You nodded and laid back down. "Night. Love you." The words slipped out. Intentionally? Maybe. But either way, it nearly sent you into another unhealthy fit.

"Love you, Y/n/n. Goodnight." Creaking told you he had settled back onto his own cot.

Had you imagined it? No. Wait...

This was going to be completely different but 🤷🏻‍♀️ anyway, I love Hoosier and I rlly wanted to write about him. I feel like he's kinda out of character, but oh well. M'kay.

~Mariah