Work Text:
Blake bothered Will. Endlessly . He talked his ear off and bounced around him like a puppy begging for attention. Granted, he acted like that with everyone, at least in part, but Will swore Blake had some personal vendetta against him.
What was it about Will that didn’t scream “Do Not Acknowledge My Existence”? He was quiet; he stood back from rowdy groups of soldiers, and he practically had his head ducked every minute of the day. Yet, despite all of this, Blake was popping up from any length away and spotting him.
Embarrassingly, Will had considered hiding from Blake a few times. Not— he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to hide, it was just— if there was a nook or cranny conveniently off to the side, he might slip out of sight. But no. He was a grown man, dammit, he could tell someone off. Besides, Blake ought to learn a lesson about respect eventually.
The thing was... well, he had a tough time telling Blake off. For whatever reason, the moment anything even vaguely rude threatened to spill from Will’s mouth, he snapped it shut. Even more perplexing than that, he didn’t quite like it when anyone else told Blake off either. Will chose not to look too far into that little conundrum, a bit wary about what he might find if he dug deeper. He chose a happy medium instead: crank his vagueness up to eleven and hope the man got bored of him eventually.
A month passed, and Blake did not get bored. In fact, it seemed like he’d only gotten more annoying the harder that Will tried to head him off in his roundabout way.
Maybe annoying wasn’t the word for it. Bothersome? Irritating?
Whatever. The point was, Blake hadn’t let up in the slightest, and Will was losing the frankly mind-bogglingly vast amount of patience he had stored away.
Someone else seemed to have snapped before he did, though. Will thought he might have recognized who was screaming directly into the Private’s face, but everyone sort of blended together in his mind these days. 'Get s what he deserves. ' Will thinks at first. Then, ' what could Blake possibly do to warrant that response? Who the hell does this guy think he is? ' T he young man seemed to bounce right back, apologizing eventually when the older soldier squared his shoulders and glowered down at him.
Will never spoke first when Blake appeared out of nowhere and forced him into a conversation. However, he had to ask when the young soldier settled down across from him in the grass this time.
“What was that about?” He jerked his head in the general direction of the earlier incident. After a moment of surprise, Blake shrugged.
“No idea. Wasn’t even talking to him.” He huffed. “Twitchy bastard.”
Will scrutinized him silently, trying to determine if he was telling the truth.
“Alright?” He asked as a follow-up, pretending that it was just politeness fueling his concern. Blake offered him a lopsided grin.
“‘S not my first time getting yelled at. I’m a big boy. I can take it. It would’ve been nice if he’d popped a mint, though.”
Will hid his laugh behind a scoff, but judging by the sparkle in Blake’s eyes, he didn’t do an excellent job of it.
“Be smarter about what you say,” Will advised, just to squash whatever encouragement Blake might’ve gained from that laugh. “Not a lot of privacy here, y’know. You could set someone off a mile away.”
Blake’s smile dropped, his gaze fell. “Yeah,”
Well… he didn’t expect that response. Was his tone too harsh? Will furrowed his brow and crossed his arms. Why did he care?
“I dunno, I guess… well, I was talking with Taylor, y’know, the little blond one?” Will did not know, but he nodded for Blake to continue anyway. “I just mentioned that I was hungry, that’s all, and,” Blake waved his hand around vaguely. “All of a sudden, I have spit all over my face, and my ears are ringing.”
Will sighed deeply, pinched the bridge of his nose. “Mentioned?”
Blake avoided eye contact, looking sheepish. “I— It’s not like I got up on a soapbox and demanded food, I just… I complained a bit. Everyone does!”
Of course, he was right, but Blake didn’t exactly have a lot of tact; he tended to rub the wrong people up the wrong way. Will closed his eyes and breathed slowly through his nose. Blake was 18. He was young, and he was naive. He didn’t mean to piss anyone off.
“I’m sorry, okay?” The man was quicker to apologize to Will than he was to the man he’d actually offended. “I didn’t think... no, I mean, I know it’s a big deal, obviously, but,” He pulled individual blades of grass out of the ground, his eyes trained downwards. “‘S not my fault he was eavesdropping...” Blake ended his thought under his breath.
The hand on his nose dragged down the length of Will’s face in exasperation, stopping to cover his mouth.
“Don’t apologize to me,” Will sighed again. “There’s no reason to.”
“Well, I already apologized to him —" There was disdain in Blake’s tone. “—and I don’t... like it when you’re angry at me. I didn’t know what else to do.”
Will went to retort, but he paused. “I’m not angry at you. What does that matter anyway?”
“Because I like you?” Blake said this like it was obvious, common sense, and Will was stupid if he didn’t know already. “I’m trying to be your friend, and...”
The man was still talking, but Will couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing in his ears. How about that, huh? Blake liked him. ‘As a friend, as a friend,’ His brain supplied from the background.
Wait— why did he care whether it was one way or another? Blake was annoying. He never stopped talking. He was practically glued to Will’s elbow half the time. The little bugger was basically a parasite.
But the thing was, Will didn’t particularly like it when Blake wasn’t bothering him.
Oh, God.