will x bartender! reader (prisoner)
⁓1.5k words
strangers to lovers, light hurt/comfort, fluff, cursing, height gap (reader is shorter), mentions of war, cheating, injuries, alcohol and cigarettes
will doesn't necessarily like going out to drink. but after coming home from war, all thanks to that last shoulder injury that got him out of service and back stateside, he finds himself needing to let go sometimes. so he drinks.
you're the bartender at the pub he frequents, close enough to his home so he can make the walk even when drunk, and far enough that he can sober up a little in the late night's air. and because your bar is cheap, dim, stale and sticky in the way only truly reliable bars can be, it's perfect for him.
you don't ask why he always fiddles with his chest pocket, don't ask when he sometimes gets the letter from his ex-girlfriend out and crumbles it just to straighten it again - it's her last letter, saying she'll always be faithful, only for will to return home and be greeted by a visible baby bump when he returned after over three years at war, for her to have the audacity to say it was a miracle. he used to be a man of faith, yes, but the horrors of war quickly washed that out of him; so of course he didn't believe her bullshit, packed his things, and left.
she got herself into this mess, she'll have to handle it herself. he's got enough trauma on his plate either way.
you stay quiet, only giving him small smiles that he barely reciprocates, sometimes joining him out for a smoke when the rush of the night dies down. usually lighting his cigarette, you stay by his side in comfortable silence. you've long since been aware that soldiers come to your pub a lot, so you learned not to pry, only listen when someone pours their heart out over a few pints of beer.
he's always polite, even if gruff, tips well, offers a low "thank you, sweetheart" when you set another drink down in front of him. naturally, you enjoy his presence, not one to talk much either, rather just being the quiet comfort space people often need.
and over time, you became just that perfect comfort for will as well.
"fuck," will curses lowly when he pats down his jacket, not finding the pack of cigarettes that he could've sworn he put into his coat pocket somewhere before leaving his apartment. not even the lighter can be found, as if his day wasn't already shitty enough.
he doesn't notice you come up from behind him until you carefully touch his side, a cigarette already between the fingers of your other hand. will flinches, but relaxes once he whips around and realises it's just you. with a small smile, you lift your hand to his face, and he keeps the eye contact when he leans in and takes the smoke between his dry lips.
it bobs slightly when he thanks you with a murmur, and you lift your own cigarette to your mouth before rummaging through your jeans pocket for your lighter. once you have it, you light first your own, then his cig with practiced ease.
at the first puff of smoke, you sigh, shoulder brushing against his when you allow yourself to stretch out your back, arch it until you can hear your spine crack and the beautiful pain makes you sigh out in relief. but even then the ache in your body doesn't fully subside, having stood upright and walked for too long already today.
another puff, and will notices the way you shiver at the night air, fresh and a little too cold for your uniform shirt.
one more puff, and he wordlessly opens the front of his coat, wide enough to count as an invitation to snuggle into his warmth. you follow it gladly. wrapping your free arm around his waist to keep your hand from freezing, you hum when his body heat seeps into your limbs as he covers whatever part of your back he can reach with the jacket.
almost hesitantly, as if giving him enough time to change his mind, you rest your cheek against his collar, face angled to the side so no ash gets onto the fabric when you take another drag of your cigarette.
not a single word is spoken when you melt into his gentle but tight hold, not even when both of you finish your smoke break and he silently takes both your and his stubs and flicks them towards the manhole cover in the street. both hit their mark.
you only turn your head to nuzzle your nose into the bend of his throat, making him give a light shudder at the feeling of the cold tip of it nudging against his bare skin.
a minute passes, maybe two, and you know you have to go back to work - but will is too warm, too comfortable for you to let go just yet. it seems as if he feels the exact same, his second arm coming up and around your shoulders to tug you even closer into his chest. you snake yours around his waist to join the other and bask in the moment. no judgement, no questions, no answers either.
with a small huff, a sigh, you finally manage to pull yourself away from him, fix him with a tired but genuine smile and nod your head towards the entry of the pub. he follows you in, the corners of his lips turned up just the tiniest bit.
maybe today isn't so shitty after all.
will is still there when you finish your shift, when you usher him out with droopy eyes and gentle hands. he watches on as you lock up the front door, bid the waitress on shift a good night and safe travel home, then fish around your jacket for the pack of cigarettes. once you have it, your exhausted fingers drop it, but will is quick to catch it even if the movement painfully pulls at his shoulder.
the doctor had said it might never properly heal.
"thank you, handsome," you mutter, grin weakly up at him, and he sneaks a cigarette out before handing the box back to you. you take it without complaint, offer him your lighter as you put a smoke between your lips and put the pack into your bag.
before you can even ask for your lighter, he chips it into your still open bag, then pulls you close - you're glad you had licked your lips just seconds before, because the gasp that escapes you would've had it fall as well. a large, calloused hand comes up to your jaw, cups it so will can tilt your head up, until the end of your cigarette bumps against the already burning end of his.
within a few seconds of tense silence, the flame transfers, and you take a deep drag before blowing it out of your nose so it doesn't hit his face. he wouldn't have minded it, but you're too polite. only then does he allow you to take a step back, and when you don't, he grins, lips stretching around the filter.
it stays quiet while you take little puffs of air, exhale smoke, and his hand rests heavily on your waist. this time, you take his cigarette alongside yours when you're done, stubbing both out in the ashtray by the pub door - and before you can even properly turn around, will is already tugging on your jacket to drag you close.
you can taste the smoke still on his lips when he kisses you, softly, carefully, but sure. certain. it mixes with the bitterness of the lager he had drank before you ushered him out when his tongue laps at the seam of your mouth, meets your own in languid strokes when you part your lips for him. the combined tastes have a small sound of contentment break in the back of your throat.
even with that sting of smoke and beer, you taste much sweeter than anything will has ever tasted before. there's a softness, a warmth, a fondness that envelops him as soon as you properly kiss him back, meet his lazy enthusiasm with your own and drag your hands up his chest so you can tangle your fingers in the hair in the back of his neck.
he was planning on going to the barber soon, but maybe he doesn't need to trim it in the near future if it always feels this good for you to tug on as you get lost in the kiss.
both of you are breathless when you finally pull back, your lungs screaming at you to get air back into them, the only reason you had to stop against your wishes. your swollen lips slowly contort into a smile, unhurried and easy and all too dangerous for will to not fall into the temptation for him to kiss you again.
but you separate all too quickly, hand on his chest to stop him from following you even if he tries.
"you got a girl?" you murmur, still close enough to feel his hot breath mingle with yours, and he shakes his head.
"cheated on me while i was gone. you got a man at home?" you chuckle.
"only if you want to come back there with me." a grin pulls at will's lips at your reply.
"good."
author's note: yes i watched the short and yes i'm a little obsessed with him. i mean, what else do you expect me to do with yet another tragic, compassionate soldier?
