BACK TO THE FRONT LINE
Request: hey luv could i request a malarkey x reader where the reader got shot in Bastogne and they meet again in Haguenau? w/ a happy ending and teasin from the boys?? thanks :3
Pairing: Don Malarkey x Reader
Genre: angsty fluff
Tags:
Requested by: @lordndsaviorwinters
Permanent taglist: @elia-the-bibliophile @randomparanoid @karlthecat15722 @thebutchersdaughtersblog @amourtentiaa @just-here-to-escape-from-reality @comfort-reads
Warnings: shooting, mentions of death, warfare (?)
A/N: jumping into this fandom knowing there's literally like three of us and that's completely fine by me. Send in your requests and enjoy some angsty malarkey content <3
Rogue-durin-16 masterlist
"Hey Web!" I called for the paratrooper, climbing with difficulty off a jeep which had been trailing after the one he had traveled on.
"Y/n/n!" His excitement to see me turned into s worried, confused frown after he acknowledged I was not riding on the trucks with the platoons. "What are you doin' here?"
"Got shot in Bastogne." I motioned at the side of my sore ribcage, still covered in bandages underneath the very much needed layers of clothing.
I double checked around me to make sure Roe hadn't spotted me; the medic would lose no time to try and send me back to the aid station, and I couldn't let that happen.
"So... you finally decided to join us huh?" I questioned, trying not to let out any kind of spite towards the poor boy whilst adjusting my rifle, hung on my shoulder.
"What'd you mean?" He questioned confused.
"Nothin'." I muttered with a shrug. Luckily, Webster paid it no mind and turned his attention to the back of the vehicle ahead of us, enthusiastically greeting our friends.
Later, I would feel guilty for turning a blind eye at the way the platoon treated Webster, but not in that moment, in which they didn't even held out their hand to him.
"Y/l/n, You crazy bastard." Bull called, redirecting the boys' attention to me. "What'd you think you're doin' here?"
"Couldn't leave you lot alone for too long, Bull, you'll get yourselves killed." I teased, throwing my bag on the truck and taking Martin's hand, which easily pulled me up, not without making me wince in the process. Meanwhile, Webster was dismissed by our friends to join another platoon.
"How's that wound, Sergeant?" The first platoon's Lieutenant asked; simultaneously, Randleman stood up for me to take his seat —an offer I couldn't exactly decline.
"Healing, Sir." I responded sitting down, struggling to relocate my bag so it would be caged between my feet.
Truth was, it was a relatively fresh wound; Eugene had explicitly explained I wouldn't be allowed to go back to the front line anytime soon, but I couldn't bring myself to stay in a hospital for any longer— not when my friends had been left behind into the freezing cold hellhole that was Bastogne.
"Take it easy then, yeah?" The blond man requested, patting my shoulder. "We can't have you back just for you to bleed out."
"Aye, Sergeant." I responded, giving him a half smile.
"Yeah, poor Malarkey wouldn't be able to take anymore loss." Cobb attempted to join in with what I supposed was meant to be teasing, but it didn't come off as that.
"Loss?" I questioned, fear creeping up my body and making my heart pump faster. "What- w-who— did we lose?"
"You sure got the gift of the gab, Cobb." Martin spat sarcastically, not even looking up from his boots.
"Muck and Penkala." Bull muttered, looking over his shoulder to nothing in particular; I figured he was just averting his gaze. "Right after you got carted off." In that moment, I was thankful to be sitting and not on my feet, or else my legs would have given in.
The sudden news hit me like a ton of bricks.
I wasn't as close as Malarkey to the two boys, but they were very good friends of mine— or had been.
"I..." I cleared my throat, wiping the silent couple of tears that had rolled down my cheeks. "How's... How's Malarkey?"
No one replied; however, the absence of words could be taken as a reply in itself.
"It'll do him some good to have you back." Martin spoke, trying to throw some positivity into such a gloomy environment.
After that, we just rode in silence, each of us lost in our minds and forgetting to acknowledge the others.
Unbeknownst to me, Malarkey rode in the truck before us, just as tangled in intrusive thoughts as we were. Maybe Webster had mentioned my name to the second platoon, but if that had happened, Don had not listened to it, I could tell by his reaction when he first saw me.
Once we had entered Haguenau, Martin climbed off and offered me a hand to do the same, which I gladly took. The others followed our lead, leaving the army vehicle empty.
Bull awaited with me until the mortars stopped firing, covering both of our heads; after that, we both circled the back of the truck and, while he proceeded to rush into one of the buildings, I, on the contrary, stayed still just a few yards away from Malarkey, who nonchalantly pretended to listen to Webster.
He looked... Well, no better than the last time I had seen him.
"INCOMING!" I wasted no time to throw myself into the nearest foxhole at Lipton's yells. "TAKE COVER AND START FIRING!" swinging my rifle from my shoulder to my front whilst keeping my head low, I attempted to follow the Sergeant's orders.
Problem was, I didn't have ammunition.
"FUCK! Anyone got spare ammo?!" I shouted, holding my helmet and standing down until I obtained response from someone.
"YOU DON'T HAVE AMMO?!" Malarkey's voice came from the foxhole besides mine. "ARE YOU STUPID?!"
"SHUT UP, DONALD!"
"DON'T CALL ME DONALD!"
"THIS IS REALLY NOT THE TIME FOR QUARRELLING, LOVEBIRDS!" Penkala shouted in a mocking tone, to which both me and Malarkey responded with a very hostile 'shut up'.
"OKAY— HERE, Y/N!" When I peeked over, I saw Don attempting to crawl up and cross the ground between us.
"WAIT- DON'T!" I shrieked, panic rushing through my system when I saw that idiot propping himself up. Not so funnily enough, my first instinct was to do the same in order to reach him.
Everything happened so fast that I didn't even have time to process it properly.
I felt something knocking the air out of my lungs, followed by a sharp pain on my side.
I believe it was Luz who did his best to pull a horrified, livid Malarkey back into the foxhole after he tried to reach me; I didn't know who was the one pulling me back to safety, though— my vision got blurry really quick, and my ears were numbed by cries, stressed shouting and the same rapid fire that had taken me down.
"Hell, Y/l/n!" I was shaken back to reality by George's voice coming from behind me, catching not only my attention but Malarkey's too.
"Luz!" I gave the surprised Technician a small smile. "Missed me much?"
"Not a bit." I scoffed. "Who bailed your stupid ass out of the aid station?" Before I could respond, George's gaze traveled from me to Malarkey and back to me, this time with a grin. "Glad to see you're out and about." He patted my shoulder and walked away, crossing paths with a dumbfounded Malarkey. "Sergeant Bullshit." Don let it slide, making a beeline to me instead with knitted brows.
"Hey—" before any word could leave my mouth, both of Malarkey's arms were wrapped around me, a few inches above my wound, his rifle tossed on the dirty streets. "Hey..." I repeated, this time much softer while I mimicked his movements, letting my gun fall and engulfing him in a hug.
He briefly buried his face on my shoulder, and I could tell he was refraining himself from squeezing me tight.
Mortars were still being periodically fired into Haguenau, and chaos still reigned, but the only thing that seemed to matter to me was the shaky frame of the man in front of me.
Once we were apart, the redhead crouched to grab both our weapons, aware of our surroundings.
He gulped, opening his mouth like a fish out of water as he handed me the rifle, and I knew right away what he was about to mention.
"Skip—"
"And Penkala, I know." I finished, not wanting him to struggle in order to let me know something I already did. "I'm so sorry Don." I rubbed his bicep reassuringly when he casted his gaze down.
"MALARKEY!" His head snapped to one particular building I couldn't really see. "MOVE YOUR PLATOON OUT OF THE DAMN STREETS!"
"YES, SIR!" he shouted, grabbing my hand and pulling me with him to take cover into another building.
He didn't let go of the hold he had on me as we passed some of our friends, who were quite shocked, yet happy to see me.
"Y/n/n!"
"Hey, Babe." I made Malarkey come to a halt so I could properly greet Heffron.
"Damn, Y/l/n." Liebgott entered the room with Ramirez and McClung. "Eager to see us, weren't you?" His eyes flickered to my fingers, intertwined with Malarkey's. "Well, some more than others." I felt my cheeks burning at Joe's teasing, but he didn't push further.
"Fellas, why don't we go see the basement for a bit, yeah?" Babe ever-so-subtly suggested, shamelessly winking at Malarkey before pushing his three friends out of the room.
"Wait," Malarkey's call made them all turn around at the doorframe. "Any of you, call for Doc."
"What?" My head snapped at Don as the rest dismissed themselves with a 'yes, sir', leaving the door ajar on their way out.
"You weren't discharged," He inquired, letting go of my hand in order to walk to the window and check the dilapidated streets. "Were you?"
Unable to lie to him, and discerning his intentions, I scoffed. "Y'know, you don't have the authority to send me—"
"Y/n, stop." He cut me off, a worn-out look on his gaze while he dug in his pocket for a smoke and a lighter. "I just wanna make sure you can actually walk."
"You don't need a doctor to know that."
"Yeah I do." He replied, pinching his nose.
"I got here on my own, didn't I?"
He stayed silent for a moment, sparing me a glance that carried some kind of plead in it, and sighed. "I really don't have it in me to argue with anyone these days." Don confessed. "Let alone with you." A pang of guilt weighed in my chest at the sight of him. "You can leave if you want to, first platoon's two buildings far from here." He informed me, having a puff from the cigarette he had just lit. "I'll send Roe away."
"I'm sorry." He shook his head 'no' without making eye contact, and proceeded to sit down on a chair. "I just... I don't wanna be pulled back again."
I took a careful step in his direction, and then another one, and another one, until I stood in front of him.
"About..." I crouched to meet his eyes, but he still managed to avert his gaze. "About Muck and Penkala, if you wanna—" he shook his head 'no' again, this time more determined, as if the sole mention of their names haunted him. "Okay, whenever you're ready, I'm here."
I squeezed his knee reassuringly and took his free hand in mines, bringing it to me lips to place a kiss on it.
"I'm sorry you got shot." He mumbled.
"Not your fault."
"It was." Before I could deny it again, he insisted. "C'mon— You know it was."
Silence.
"Does it hurt much?"
"Mmm..." I debated whether or not I should tell the truth, but he leaned closer to me with warning eyes, and I knew it would be stupid to hide it. "A bit." He quirked an eyebrow at me. "Don't look at me like that, Malarkey."
Don pursed his lips on a thin line, a frown appearing between his brows. "Please—"
"I'll let Roe check on me." I cut him mid-sentence, before attempting in vain to way too quickly get up, which ended up in a grimace and a tightened grip on the Technical Sergeant's hand.
"Hey hey hey—" taking a hold of my forearms he carefully pulled me up. "You okay?" I, taking in a strained breath with my forehead on his shoulder, let out an unconvincing 'yes'. "Y/n."
" 'm alright."
As if he had been cued, Eugene bursted into the room, Heffron trailing behind him. "Goddamn it, Y/n! Sit her down!" Malarkey obliged, halfheartedly letting go of my forearms, yet managing to linger on my fingers while Roe examined me. "Didn't I tell you to stay back there? Didn't I? Why does no one listen to me?!"
"I do." Heffron pointed out, earning a very salty, intelligible response from the medic, who lost no time to remove the clothing in order to properly see the wound.
"Fuckin' Christ..." Malarkey muttered, observing how Roe fixed me the best he could.
"That bad?"
"You pulled two stitches." Eugene stated, standing up after rigging said stitches. "Get her up— you're coming with me."
"No!" I exclaimed, almost whined, when Malarkey's hands found their way back to me. "I can't leave— I'm not leaving." I'm not leaving you, I wanted to say, as I stared deep into Malarkey's eyes.
Such a brief interaction we had, yet it was long enough to realize he should be the one getting pulled out of the front line. If there was a chance of helping him, I would take it in a heartbeat.
Roe stepped away, cursing my name after Don gave him a nod which meant 'I got this'.
Malarkey's eyes fixed on me, and, flickering to check Babe and Gene were minding their business, he whispered in the quietest tone possible, "Darling,"
I looked down, knowing every word that would come out of his mouth after that; I became aware I wouldn't be able to say no to it.
"You wanna help me?" I gave him a nod, my gaze casted down while he whispered those words in my ear. "Well, then I need you to go with Eugene." My head fell on his shoulder once more, defeated, and one of his palms traveled to the small of my back. "I lost too many important people. I need you to be safe."
There was a moment of silence, followed by a soft sight from me when Don placed a feather kiss on my temple.
"I really don't wanna leave you here."
"I know." The Irish man knew he had won and this was me procrastinating the end of the discussion, so he signaled for Roe to come back to us and pulled away from me. "We'll meet again soon, Y/l/n."
"You better don't get killed, Malarkey." I warned him, wincing when Eugene threw my arm over his shoulders. "Or I'll bring you back to life so I can kill you again."
An amused chuckle left Malarkey's lips while he reached for another cigarette. "I'll take your word for that one."
I gifted him a bittersweet smile and said goodbye to him and Heffron on my way out; as I was carried to a safer place by the medic, I prayed to every god that ever existed for Malarkey to come out of this war unharmed.
Just like him, I wouldn't stand knowing he got hurt —or worse—, not after all we've lost in Bastogne.