I’m alright… Am I alright??

“Calm down, soldier, I’ll kick your ass in no time!” you reply, a devilish grin appears on your face and Nixon’s smile immediately widens. You can’t see it, for your eyes are still fixated on Lewis only while figuring out your next move, but Harry Welsh is whispering to Lipton (like two little girls) just how oblivious you are in the most loving manner. That is something that Lipton, too, hasn’t been quite able to comprehend; you seeing everything in combat, knowing where everybody is, anticipating enemy movement, but absolutely unaware of how Nixon has been watching you with the biggest lovestruck eyes for months.

The truth is, Nixon has been crushing on you, hard, since goddamn Toccoa, Lip knew this, Dick knew this, Welsh knew this, hell even George and Liebgott noticed too, but he was still married at that time, even though unhappily, so he tried to hide it somehow. But then his wife divorced him, and he was angry, not particularly because she was leaving him but because she was also taking his dog, that he loved immensely and was his dog in the first place. But then you appeared, right after he threw away his helmet, and he forgot to be angry completely.

You knew about the troubles he’d been having with his wife, feeling the sting of jealousy that you didn’t even bother to deny to yourself. So when Dick, who’d been there to take on Lewis’s initial anger, gave you a look you knew what had happened. After that, Lewis Nixon has been a total lovestruck idiot.

You raise the bets, feeling particularly lucky this evening, and turn to Nixon with raised eyebrows. You can see just how drunk he truly is, again, but not that much as he can be, but you hate it nonetheless. So when Lewis reaches for his money to raise the bets too, you grab his full glass and down it in one take. At first, you feel like coughing because the whiskey is stronger that you anticipated, but you manage to fight it.

The whole table is looking at you in surprise, Lip and Welsh giggle in anticipation, both of them knowing (even before you two) exactly where the evening will lead for the two of you; Speirs is sort of just sitting there, sipping on his beer, amused by the whole situation.

“Don’t you toy with me, woman.” Nixon says, his voice somehow deeper than usual and you, despite trying not to, shiver. Lewis shifts in his seat, and then, just like that, his leg is pressed against yours in a manner that is not apparent to anyone sitting at the other sides of the table.

Harry coughs. “Should we go?” The question is unanswered for too long, both of you waiting for the other one to talk.

“There is no reason for you to leave,” you finally manage to get out of yourself as nonchalantly as you can. You barely just register you answered for all you can focus on is Lewis’s leg against yours. You want to pull away, not make it too easy for him, but you can’t, you need his touch, to feel him present, next to you.

Somehow you finish the game, you’re very much aware of the fact that Lewis hasn’t poured himself another drink for the rest of the evening and you’re wondering if he figured out that you hate his often drinking.

You immediately excuse yourself from the table, desperate for some fresh air for the room is suddenly too small for you and Lewis Nixon. You’re just reaching for the door knob when you hear another chair being pushed away and a deep voice saying “Sorry, gentlemen. I gotta… go.” Harry laughs at that, “That you do!”

You smile to yourself, your cheeks reddening.

Lewis catches up to you in the corridor, his arm instinctively finds your waist, rests on your hip, as he lightly presses you into him. It’s so nice to finally feel something after those long years of combat training and war.

Speirs

Smoking isn't really a habit that he enjoys to begin with

So when he overhears you mention that you would never date a smoker, he grinds out his cigarette and tosses the rest of the box to whoever is nearby

If you're not around, then he might bum one off of someone - but only if he feels like he really needs it

He always makes a big point of not smoking around you, just so you can see that he's kicked the habit

(because he hopes that you realize it means he'll do anything for you)

Luz

"You're joking, right?" When he sees how serious you are, he can't believe it.

"But (Y/N), everyone in the company smokes!"

Well, not everyone. And he doesn't want to get shown up by someone who doesn't

When he tries to quit smoking, he feels like he doesn't know what to do with his hands when he talks

*cue big, dramatic hand gestures when he's telling stories and jokes*

The rest of the company would get onto him for it. "Damn it, Luz! You're gonna take out my eye if you keep swingin' your hands like that."

But he catches you smiling. "I think it's cute," you say. And that's really all he needs

Malarkey

Stares between you and the cigarette he's smoking, dumbfounded

"You what?"

You shrug. "I just don't like the smell. I couldn't be around it all the time."

He thinks about it, still looking back and forth between his two choices. "And if a person managed to quit?"

Now it's your turn to think. "I would be very impressed," you say. "It's not an easy habit to break."

He sighs, taking a deep inhale from the cigarette as your words sink in. When he opens his eyes, he sees you staring at him, looking disappointed.

"What?" he asks, tapping the ashes off the end of his cigarette. "This is my last one ever. I gotta make it count."

Liebgott

"You sure about that, doll?" Because, come on - you must be joking . . . right? (Almost) all the men in the company smoke!

"Positive," you reply.

"Well then." Joe takes a drag from his cigarette, then exhales the smoke while stubbing it out in one fluid motion. He digs the carton from his pocket and tosses it to whoever is nearest (probably Tab or Tipper), and then looks at you expectantly, waiting to see your reaction.

You blink, stunned. "Just like that?"

The rest of the company look just as shocked. They want to ask the same question. Just like that?

Joe tries to act cool about it, but seeing how impressed you are makes him want to smile. He tries to suppress it, and instead it comes out as one of his trademark smirks.

"Why would I need a box with some pin-up on it when I could have you?"

Guarnere

As soon as he hears you say it, he tosses the pack in his hand at Babe

(everyone is taken so off-guard that it hits him in the head)

Everyone stares at him, waiting for an explanation

"What was that?" You finally ask

"Me quitin'," he replies smoothly. After all, he's always been one for grand gestures.