Carter's Experiment
Technical Sergeant Andrew Carter smirked as he glanced down at the pack of cigarettes in his hand before stuffing them in his pocket. His friend, Corporal Peter Newkirk, has been teasing and having a bit of fun with him for too long. He loved his friendship with the Corporal, but he thought that it was time for him to have a little fun of his own.
He had once heard of this man who had trained a dog to salivate at the sound of a bell. Now, he didn't want Newkirk to start drooling whenever he decided to ring a bell, although it would be pretty funny. No, he had something less severe in mind, but to him it'd be funny too.
Carter filled his mug with coffee, then joined Newkirk at the table, sitting across from him. The Englishman barely paid him any mind, instead choosing to not divert his attention from the constant shuffling of the cards in his hands.
The American then, a bit louder than usual, set his mug down on the table. Next, he reached into his pocket and took out a cigarette.
"Hey, Newkirk, want a cigarette?"
He stopped shuffling, looking up at Carter with a grin.
" 'ave I ever said 'no' to a cig, mate?"
The Sergeant smiled as he put the smoke in the waiting Corporal's hand. Quickly, he reached into another pocket to take out his Zippo to light it for him.
"Thanks, Andrew," Newkirk said, a puff of smoke escaping his lips.
"Sure, buddy!"
"Now, 'ow 'bout a game of gin?"
The next day, at the same time as yesterday, Carter filled his mug with coffee. Newkirk was again at the table, only this time he was playing poker with Kinch and LeBeau. Carter was a part of the game too, but had gotten up to continue along with his little experiment.
Once again, he sat down and placed his mug down firmly. Not wasting another minute, he dug into his pocket for the cigarette.
"Hey, buddy, want a smoke?"
"My, aren't you generous," Newkirk smirked as he took it, this time lighting it with his own lighter.
LeBeau thought nothing of it, opting to return to the game, but Kinch was only half-focused on it.
However, Kinch was very observant; it was one of the reasons on why Hogan considered him as his second-in-command. He saw what happened yesterday, so with the same thing happening again he was a bit suspicious. Yet he could just be over-analyzing things, so he let the incident go.
Kinch smiled as laid down his cards, "four of a kind, queens high."
His hand was hovering over the money and cigarettes in the center of the table, when Newkirk grabbed his wrist, halting his movements.
The Englishman had a wicked gleam in his eye when the surprised Sergeant gazed up at him.
"Sorry, mate. Royal flush beats four of a kind."
Carter couldn't believe his luck: three days in a row without any nighttime mission. Burkhalter and Hochstetter weren't there to disturb them either.
Only this time, Newkirk was sitting atop his bunk, re-reading a letter he had received that day. He thought he remembered him mentioning it was from his sister, Mavis.
Still, Carter completed the same process. Get up, fill mug with coffee, sit down, set down the mug a bit louder than normal, reach into pocket, pull out cig, offer it to Newkirk.
Newkirk finished it off by taking it then lighting it up, along with the usual 'thanks, Andrew.'
On the fourth day, it finally came: a call from London. Or was it a message? See, they didn't have a telephone down in the tunnels (crazy, considering all the other stuff they had down there) so it couldn't be a call, because in order to make a call you'd have to have a telephone. But then they did talk to them with the radio, so could that be considered making a call too?
"Carter!"
The American snapped out of his thoughts, now focusing on his annoyed RAF friend.
"Blimey, Carter, pay attention! Come on, we gotta 'ead out!" He gestured to the ladder.
Gulping, (he hated it when people got mad at him) he grabbed the first rung.
The mission ended up being a success, with the four men returning happily to their Commanding Officer to share the good news. Hogan was, as usual, proud of them and happy, but he simply gave them a large smile and congradulated them with a job well done. Unfortunately, Carter couldn't do the 'process' that night since the mission occurred so late that they all had to go to bed; roll call would be in a few hours.
By the fourth time Carter offered Newkirk a cigarette, Kinch began to notice. He noticed how Carter would always get more than one cup of coffee each night, how he'd set it down a bit louder than necessary, then with no time to waste he'd offer a cigarette to Newkirk. He had a feeling of what was going on, it sounded so familiar to him, but for the life of him he couldn't remember. Anyway, he wasn't going to interfere. He wanted to see where Carter was going with this.
About three weeks later, one night, Carter finally got the result he wanted.
He refilled his coffee, walked to the table, sat down across from Newkirk, and placed down his mug.
Without a word, Newkirk stopped his shuffling of the cards and held out a hand.
Carter smirked, holding back a laugh. "What are you doing?"
Slowly, his friend's head rose, eyebrows lowered in confusion. He drew back his hand.
"I-I don't know. But I have the strangest craving for a smoke..."
A/N: Well, this is my third oneshot. I hope whoever read it liked it! I got the idea from learning about this man in my Psychology class, Pavlov, who trained a dog to salivate at the sound of a bell. I began writing this about a month ago in a tablet, but only recently have I found the tablet again. It wasn't finished yet, so I decided to write the rest of it and post it.