A/N – I honestly can't remember if the unit called James 'Bossman' before episode 3 (despite having watched 1 and 2 twice). Either way, here's a sort of fluffy little thing. Hope you enjoy.
He hadn't even finished this tour of duty and he already needed new boots. These were army regulated, built to withstand a whole tour's worth of wear and tear, but he had caught his boot climbing the stairs to the watchtower and the sole of his boot had made its bid for freedom. So, he got new boots.
The rest of the Under Fives had mocked him during that morning's exercises, joking about Captain's privilege and he had laughed along, calling them wankers before making his way to his bunk. The running, sprinting and crawling they had done had caused the boots to cut into his feet even worse than his previous ones. He eased off his shoes, exhaling sharply as he felt his skin peeling back over his heels. He winced as he caught sight of his already blood-stained socks. So much for hoping it wasn't too bad. He'd have to go and see Molly.
Dawes. Dawes, he corrected himself sharply. She was just another soldier under his command. He shouldn't, couldn't, get attached like this. But as he sat there berating himself, deep down, he knew it was already too late.
He walked quickly into the medic's tent ten minutes later, intent on being straight in and straight out. No need to stick around when there was work to be done.
His resolve to keep it quick faded slightly as he saw Molly's smile as she caught sight of him.
"What's the matter this time, sir?" She smirked slightly. "Got another splinter?"
"Not something quite as pleasant as that," James replied, starting to undo the laces of his boots.
"Oh no, sir," Molly – Dawes - laughed, screwing her nose up. "Not them smelly feet again! I've lived in London all me life, but I don't think nothin' I've ever smelled 'as been as bad as those."
"Well, you did choose to be a medic, Dawes," James reasoned. "And I'll remind you to respect your superiors, smelly feet or not."
"Yes sir, sorry sir," Dawes replied dutifully, the look on her face telling James she was everything but sorry.
Unsurprisingly, James didn't mind. He'd been wary of Molly, Dawes, when she'd first arrived. He'd worried that she would be spooked and incapable under pressure. On her first day in Bastion she had frozen up at the sight of the injured soldiers that urgently needed treatment and his doubts had increased dramatically, even as far as to consider replacing her. Despite this, she'd proven him wrong. She'd turned out to be not only more than capable under pressure, but a real member of the unit.
She inspected his feet and turned to fetch some supplies from the drawer.
"Molly," he said. "Dawes, I mean," he quickly corrected himself.
"You can call me Molly, sir," she laughed. "You don't 'ave to be all proper all the time, sir."
"Then you don't have to call me sir," James replied.
"What do I call you then? The big cheese? Bossman?"
"Sure, why not?" James smiled, as they exchanged a look that lasted slightly too long.
Molly broke the stare first, composing herself quickly and running an embarrassed hand through her hair. However, within a second, she was back to her normal self.
"Right, Bossman, get those stinky feet covered back up. I don't want no smell stickin' around."
"You wound me, Molly," James grinned as he pulled his boots back on.
Molly walked to the flap of the tent and held it open for him. A few of the rest of the unit were nearby playing football, albeit with a lot more contact than could possibly be deemed legal.
"Go on, Bossman, out you go," Molly nodded in the direction of the other lads.
"Bossman? Nice," Mansfield Mike laughed and the others joined in. "Knew you were useful for something, Dawesy," he said to hoots of laughter from the others.
"Remind me never to save your life, you wanker," Molly replied, rolling her eyes and letting the flap close to the sound of shouts of 'OOH' and 'beaten by a girl, you ginger fucker'.
Molly wandered over to her bed and lay down, letting the blush take over her face. She had thought that her thing for Captain James was a little crush, nothing more. It was only now she realised that she was in this deep.
"Bossman, Bossman, Bossman..." A chant rose from outside the tent.
'Well, that caught on quickly,' Molly thought as a yawn escaped her. Maybe if she had a nap, everything would be normal when she woke up. She wouldn't love Captain James. Her eyes widened. Did she love him? She admired him, liked him, fancied him even, but love?
"Wahey!" A cheer came up from outside. "And the Bossman is down!" Molly grinned, before scowling to herself and rolling over on her bunk.
"Fuck," she muttered to herself, before yawning and finally succumbing to sleep.
A/N – Reviews would be great… Just saying…