Chapter Text
The guys don’t really know what to make of the new guy. He stares off into space a lot, lips moving soundlessly. It’s not that they aren’t used to vets talking to themselves or the occasional oddball loner, but this guy is different. He’s slight, wiry, notable scars in the crooks of his elbows. He wears makeup smeared around his eyes like some kind of nancy boy and is a bit too jumpy for everyone’s tastes. He carries that stupid briefcase around with him all the time. Chaz doesn’t even want to touch that can of worms.
There’s an aura around him that can only be described as strange. He’s manic and slow all at once, ready for violence if he’s not the one perpetrating it. Chaz catches him a few times without his mask of carelessness and the haunted look in his eyes had followed Chaz to next morning. It was nothing, really. They were all at war. When Chaz shoves a helmet onto the new guy’s head and a gun in his hands, he stares at it like he’s never seen one before.
“What are they teaching in basic nowadays,” Chaz sighs. He points at the trigger and on the grip on the barrel, putting the new kid’s hands where they’re supposed to go. “Don’t squeeze the trigger till you’re sure you want to shoot,” he says, then claps him on the shoulder and moves off.
Johnson doesn’t think much of him at all and rolls his eyes when anyone asks. “Fuckin’ new guy,” is all he mutters.
Katz is the first one to talk to him and actually break the ice - partly because he's just nice like that and also because Chaz told him to. When he comes back to Chaz after a quiet conversation on the bus, Katz looks all sad, but he looks at everyone with that wistful little sigh, so it doesn’t mean anything. After that, the new kids seems a little more open.
The new guy - he said his name is Hargreeves, K- something Hargreeves - isn’t all together bad. He loses his shit a lot though. Didn’t even have issued gear or tags when he showed up. As a sergeant, Chaz had been the one to grudgingly take care of it. Despite his bad habits, the kid does what he’s told (albeit with that bewildered look in his eyes) and doesn’t complain beyond the occasional, “God, it’s hot,” or “Fucking mosquitoes.” All stuff they’ve heard before. None of the guys in their little squad have had the time to get to know him; some of them don’t even want to.
“I can’t believe they fucking replaced Barnes already,” Johnson gripes as he’s yanking off his gear for the night. Hargreeves isn’t around; Chaz has noticed that he likes to slip away at night and stumble back after everyone has gone to sleep, buzzed and grinning pleasantly. It’s only Chaz and Johnson in the tent right now; however much Chaz wants to change that, he’s dead tired. Everyone else is in the mess hall eating a well earned dinner. Chaz just wants to sleep. “He died three days ago and they already have a replacement.”
“That’s war.” Chaz sighs and collapses into his cot. The blankets are scratchy and his pillow smells faintly of mold, but he’s been in Vietnam for three months already and anything is better than nothing.
“It’s bullshit is what it is!”
“You know we’d get the same treatment, Johnson. Quit whining.”
The tent flaps rustle as Katz strides in. “What’s Johnson whining about now?” he teases. Katz is the only one in their squad everyone actually likes - except Johnson, because Johnson doesn’t like anyone. He’s funny, a real all-American boy type. Chaz had thought that Johnson and Katz would get along swimmingly when he first saw the two of them. The squad would be a hell hole if Chaz had to put up with two whitebread Americans. Chaz been pleasantly surprised when Johnson and Katz almost got into a fist fight within hours of knowing each other, and Chaz had bought Katz a drink.
Johnson snarls and hurls an empty can at Katz’s head. Dave ducks it, laughing as he sits on his own cot. “But really,” Dave says. “What’s the deal?”
“Johnson’s complaining about the new guy,” Chaz mutters.
“I like him,” Dave says. At Chaz’s look, he says, “He’s funny and not a stuck up asshole. What’s not to like?”
“Everything?” Johnson says. “Look at him. I can’t believe we’re so desperate we’re letting people like him in.”
Chaz doesn’t miss the way Dave stiffens almost imperceptibly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean he’s obviously some kind of queer.” Johnson scoffs. Dave’s eyebrows crease. “I just can’t believe we’re losing the war so badly that they have to let people like him in.”
“Shut the fuck up, Johnson,” Dave snaps. “He isn’t hurting anyone.”
Johnson stalks closer to Dave’s cot. “Why are you defending him?” he asks, sounding too innocent. “Don’t tell me you’re-!”
He’s cut off as Dave leaps to his feet, grabbing Johnson’s collar in a fist. Chaz sits up, prepared to yank them apart. “Finish that sentence and I’ll break your face,” he snarls.
Johnson scoffs and shoves him off. When Dave doesn’t retaliate, he rolls his eyes and heads for the entrance. “That’s what I fucking thought,” he says. As a final jab, he snaps, “Fucking asshole.”
Dave lets out a breath as Johnson’s footsteps fade away. “Shit,” Chaz drawls.
“What?” Dave snaps.
Chaz raises his hands, eyes wide. “Johnson’s just being more of an asshole than usual, that’s all.”
Dave eyes him for a brief second, then sighs and collapses back on his cot. He pulls his shirt up and over his head, tossing it on the floor. “I’m so fucking tired,” he says.
“Yeah,” Chaz sighs. “Me too.”
The tent flaps rustle. Chaz thinks it’s Johnson back for And another thing! but speak of the devil and he will come. It’s just Hargreeves, waltzing into the tent with a cigarette between his fingers. He’s shirtless and vestless, displaying a mottled array of cuts and bruises across his wiry shoulders. “What has got Johnny’s panties in a twist?” he asks on his way to his own bed. He squeezes the toe of Dave’s bot, jiggling it as he passed.
“He doesn’t like you,” Dave says.
Hargreeves laughs. “Oh yeah? Should tell him to get in line.”
“To be fair,” Chaz says. “Nobody likes Johnson either.”
Hargreeves takes a hit from his cigarette which Chaz is beginning to think isn’t actually a cigarette. He’s considering asking for a hit. “I got a brother just like him,” Klaus sighs, eyes sliding shut. He puffs a smoke ring up towards the ceiling of the tent. “Big broad asshole who thinks he’s better than everyone else. Get out of the van, Klaus!” he says in a mocking lilt.
Chaz and Dave share a look. “The van?” Dave asks.
“Ah,” Klaus says. He chuckles. “Long story.”
"Tell us anyway," Chaz says, reaching over to bum a hit off Klaus' joint.
Klaus raises his eyebrows. There's a hint of an incredulous grin on his on his lips. "You won't believe me if I do."
Chaz and Dave level Klaus with their best I'm a sergeant and you have to listen to me look. "Come on," Dave says, illusion disappearing. "Please?"
Evidently, the Katz puppy eyes are irresistible, so Klaus laughs and steals his joint back from Chaz. After a few good puffs, Klaus begins weaving a tale about super powers, time travel, a child assassin and a villain named Luther. Maybe it's the weed, but it has Chaz laughing. As people begin to trickle in for bed, Klaus' voice softens but doesn't stop. Maybe, Chaz thinks, that the new kid is weird. But he isn't all bad.