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blurredcolour · 10 months ago

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I Wish You Love | Part Five

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Lewis Nixon x Housemaid!Female Reader

You and Lewis make the most of your time together before he returns to America to do his best to free himself to spend his future at your side.

Warnings: Angst, Class Divide, Discussion of Divorce, Lots of Kissing, Sexual Tension and Innuendos, Language, Smoking, Alcohol Consumption, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY.

Author's Note: I am a lying liar who lies - there are now six parts because Lewis and his darling do not know how to leave me alone. Reader's nationality is British and liberties have been taken in describing her background and family life for the sake of plot. No physical descriptions or y/n used. A good portion of this fic will be letter-based. This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 5393

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Returning home shortly before noon the next day, you could not help the fond shake of your head to see Lewis’s borrowed car already parked at the curb outside your flat building. The lovely, impatient man was early, of course. Early enough to see you tired, sweaty, and underdressed once again. You wanted to be annoyed with him, yet you could not find it within yourself to summon any emotion other than amused affection. Stepping into the building, you were in the process of fishing your keys from your handbag when a stunningly familiar voice carrying through the door halted your movements.

“And so that was your plan all along?”

Johnny. Your twin brother, physically absent from your life, existing only in intermittent letters, for years. Much longer than the just war, with your mutual need for employment to support your father had driven you both from home in 1934. A lot was made of some sort of intuition that was supposed to exist between twins, that as they had shared a womb, they surely shared a lot more, but his return home today was a complete shock that had you frozen in place in the hall. The next words out of his mouth did nothing to encourage you to proceed inside.

“You’ve permitted a married man to seduce your daughter, your sweet pea.” He spat, an unfamiliar ugliness in his tone. The comment was certainly directed at your father, but Lewis was undoubtedly in the room, and he confirmed your supposition as he spoke up.

“I would ask you not to insult your sister’s honor, it has been, and remains, utterly unimpeachable.”

“Bloody hell you sure speak like one of them…”

“Johnathon you will mind your tongue. I understand that you have lived differently for quite some time now, but I will not tolerate that sort of language or disrespect in this home.”

Your eyes widened as you heard your father raise his voice, something that happened so infrequently that you could count the sum total of such occasions on the fingers of your own two hands.

“I am quite satisfied,” Your father continued, “with the correspondence between Captain Nixon and his solicitor. I find his intentions for your sister, my daughter, to be completely honourable and I thoroughly encourage them. She has never been happier, Johnny, and if you cannot manage to smile for her when she comes through that door any moment now then you’d better go for a walk until you find a way to.”

Tensing at the thought of your brother angrily storming out of the flat, and right into you, you crept backwards and down the hall toward the stairs leading up to the higher floors, obscuring yourself behind the landing to wait. To see if he was indeed so against the idea of you being happy with Lewis that he would rob you of a reunion with him then. You waited nearly five minutes, which felt like an eternity, until you heard Mrs. Stokes and her herd of children leaving their flat a few stories up, tromping down the staircase towards your hiding place. Johnny had remained inside, there had been no further shouting – at least none that you could hear at this distance.

Taking a fortifying breath, you pulled your keys from your handbag and headed into the apartment, smiling softly as your father and Lewis were chatting in the sitting room. “Good afternoon you two.”

“Well look at you, sis.” Johnny spoke from the doorway to the kitchen, and it was not hard to present a face of shock, for in place of a gangly sixteen-year-old boy, there was a rugged twenty-five-year-old man standing there, grinning at you.

“Johnny!?” You gasped, dropping your handbag as you rushed forward to hug him, squealing as he hauled you off your feet, his time with the 78th Infantry having made him unspeakably strong.

“Blimey you really have gone yellow haven’t you.” He teased and you smacked him affectionately as he set you back on the ground gently. “I’ve heard it goes away after a few months, don’t get your you-know-what’s in a twist.”

“Can we please stop talking about my underclothes and talk about when you got home?” You glanced at Lewis, feeling rather embarrassed to have your knickers discussed in front of him, but he was smiling warmly, unfazed.

“This morning on the first train from London. I gather we’re going out for dinner later?”

“Absolutely, I am looking forward to taking all three of you out together.” Lewis nodded firmly and you smiled at him fondly, vaguely aware of your brother’s scrutinizing gaze upon your face in your periphery.

“We were going to go out for the afternoon, but you just got back and–”

“Go on sis, I hear he’s only in town a few days and you’ll have to put up with me for a lot longer than that. Go have fun, I’ll see you for dinner.”

Hugging him tightly once more, you then kissed Lewis’s cheek quickly before going to get changed into something suitable for a drive and a picnic before the pair of you made your way out to the car, leaving your brother and father to catch up.

“You two look nothing alike you know, I’d never have guessed that you were twins…” Lewis teased as he opened the car door for you.

“That’s what fraternal means – not identical.” You shook your head fondly, hesitating a moment, an apology for your brother’s behaviour dangling on the tip of your tongue.

“Well either way, he loves you very much and that’s all I could ask for on your behalf.” He nodded, eyes widening as you grabbed his face and kissed him soundly, your heart swelling almost painfully inside your ribcage.

His hands planted on your hips, holding tightly but letting you direct the kiss, lips parting compliantly at the tentative swipe of your tongue against his bottom lip. Losing your nerve, particularly in full view of the front window of the flat, you stopped short of sliding your tongue to his, but still felt a rush of pride tingle through you at the ruddy hue to his cheeks as you pulled back from his mouth.

“I’m not entirely certain what I did to earn that but…you’re welcome.” He grinned cockily and your jaw dropped at his impertinence before you laughed brightly, shaking your head as you slid into the car, happy to leave him wondering.

Glancing at the backseat, you raised an eyebrow curiously at the picnic basket and blankets there, wondering just what Lewis had planned for the afternoon.

“No peeking.” He smirked, sliding his arm around your waist to pull you close across the bench seat once he’d started the car, pulling his hand back to shift the car into gear.

“Might I know where we are going?” You asked curiously, resting your chin on his shoulder to look at him playfully as he headed down the lane.

“I thought I might show you where I lived while I was in England – well not the actual house, we’ve given it back to the Wills family, but the town.”

“I’d like that very much.” You nodded firmly, turning to look out the windshield as he headed out on the road out of town.

“We will have to drive past Lydiard, unless you’d like me to take the long way?” He glanced at you, and you shook your head quickly.

“No, it’s alright, I suppose I will eventually pass it at some point, I’d much rather it be with you.”

His hand squeezed your knee affectionately, fingers lingering on your bare skin when he found no interfering stockings until he was forced to employ it again in changing gears as he sped up as you left Swindon behind. You had somewhat bemoaned the difficulty related to finding stockings lately, but as his fingertips idly caressed the side of your knee, suddenly you really didn’t mind very much at all.

As the pair of you drove past the tree-lined drive leading towards Lydiard House, you swallowed to see a series of guards posted at the road, finding the sight altogether unwelcoming and eliminating any last bit of nostalgia you may have felt for the place you had called home for a decade.

“I would bet it feels an awful lot like a prison for the St Johns and the rest of the staff, too.” Lewis muttered and you nodded quickly.

“I have to say I certainly do not miss working fifteen hours a day. Free time in the evenings, it’s been quite a revelation.”

Lewis grinned at you softly, squeezing his hand that had promptly returned to your knee. “I told you that you were much better suited to this life.”

“You did, yes. Thank you.” You pressed a careful kiss to his cheek, paying closer attention to your surroundings as you neared Aldbourne, a town you’d rarely had occasion to visit previously.

Lewis took you on a small tour, pointing out the Nissen huts, or Quonsets as he called them, where the enlisted men had stayed before swinging by Littlecote House where he had been billeted. He regaled you with funny stories from training and that one time his closest friend Dick had been forced to upend his mattress to get him out of bed after a very intense night of celebration. Circling back to the centre of the village, he parked in front of a small bakery, opposite the village green.

“We just need to pick up our dessert and then we’ll be ready for lunch?”

You nodded warmly, sliding out of the car with him as he led you into the shop. It smelled positively divine inside, all sorts of sweets in the display cases.

“I’m here to pick up an order for Nixon?” Lewis smiled and the girl behind the counter looked up with wide eyes.

“Leftenant! We didn’t think we’d see any of you boys back here again.” She smiled up at him brightly, fairly batting her eyelashes at him.

“Just wanted to be sure my girl had a chance to try the best lardy cake in all of England.” He smiled smoothly, looking to you warmly.

Swallowing tightly, you could not help but notice the way the girl’s face fell as he tugged you closer.

“Anything you’d think your father and brother would like as a souvenir of our travels?”

Normally you would have refused, been stubborn and reticent in the face of his generosity, but there was something about the way the girl was throwing daggers at you as she retrieved a box with his name on it from under the counter that emboldened you.

“Perhaps a few imperial cookies?” You looked up at him hopefully and he rewarded you with a quick peck to the cheek.

“A dozen of the imperial cookies as well please.”

“Of course, leftentant.”

You bit the inside of your cheek, fighting the impulse to correct her sharply as you felt rather territorial about that title – more precisely that pronunciation of that title. You waited quietly as she packed a box of the cookies and Lewis paid the total. You were more than a little relieved to say your goodbyes and leave the shop, baked goods in hand, and retrieve the picnic supplies from the car.

“Can I help you carry something?”

Lewis paused a moment before passing you the blankets, taking the boxes from the bakery and the rather heavy looking basket himself.

“You know I packed artillery shells for the past seven months, I am not helpless.” You teased as you followed him across the street onto the village green.

“Just because you can, darling, doesn’t mean you are expected to.” He replied with a smirk, waiting for you to unfurl the blankets on the ground before the pair of you settled in.

“So long as you remember that I am not helpless, Lewis.” You replied firmly, watching him unearth several packets of sandwiches, some fruit, and a bottle of lemonade from the basket along with glasses to drink from.

“I assure you I would never dream of considering you helpless. After all you rescued a drowning dog from a lake while wearing a full-length dress.” He grinned, popping the seal on the bottle to fill you a glass. “Climbed the highlands to procure me heather and grouse feathers, poured TNT and lifted artillery shells, served a certain honorable without murdering her for her deplorable behavior…” His tone had started off teasing but as he set the glass in your outstretched hand his face grew serious. “No darling, if anything I really quite admire you.”

Ducking your head shyly you took a sip of the tart liquid, enjoying the way it sparkled on your tongue. The pair of you picnicked happily in the sunshine, demolishing most of the sandwiches and fruit before Lewis unboxed the cake.

“The best in England, you say?” You grinned, peering at it curiously.

“Well, all of us in the 506th would certainly say that, but I wonder what a real Englishwoman will say.” He smirked, using a knife from the picnic basket to cut a slice, holding it out for you to take a bite.

Looking to his expectant face before glancing back down at the outstretched piece of cake, you leaned in to take a bite, holding your hand in front of your mouth as you sat up to chew thoughtfully. As the flavour of it spread across your tongue, you began to nod happily.

“Oh wow, that’s probably the best I’ve ever eaten as well.” You agreed once you swallowed your mouthful.

Lewis beamed happily before taking the next bite from the piece still in his grasp, leaning back onto his forearm lazily as you prepped another slice for yourself, trying not to spend too long drinking in the length of his body in such an enticing pose. Looking around the village square instead, you smiled.

“It’s so peaceful now, I can only imagine the havoc you all wreaked.” You laughed softly and he chuckled.

“Havoc is an excellent choice of word, darling…”

After you’d both eaten your fill, you carefully packed up the remnants into the basket, setting the bakery boxes aside to take home for your father and Johnny to have a go at them. The shadows began to creep across the grass and a glance at your utilitarian wristwatch told you it was nearly four-thirty. Lewis suddenly sat up, drawing your gaze as he fidgeted slightly before shifting closer to you.

“Darling I…know I can’t make as much of a fuss about this as I’d like to but… We’ve been talking an awful lot about the future and what it might look like, and it would be a mistake if I didn’t make it official. Or as official as I am able, at this point.”

You held your breath, focusing intently as you did your best to hear him over the rushing of blood in your ears.

“Would you do me the honor of wearing this ring as a promise of my intention to marry you?” He produced a velvet box from his pocket, opening the lid to reveal a ring very much to your taste, not too many stones, in the metal of your choice, showing just how closely he had been paying attention to your preferences yesterday.

“Lewis…” You exhaled in awe and looked to him, eyes wide with wonder. “Yes…I of course…” You smiled, finding your eyes suddenly blurred by tears as he pulled you into his warm embrace.

“I thought…you’d maybe want to wear it on your right hand and then…when I get the divorce finalized, I’ll write you right away and then you can put it on your left, like a proper engagement ring.” He murmured against your cheek, and you smiled so broadly it made your jaw ache.

“I love you so very much, Lewis Nixon.” You shifted back to kiss him warmly, sighing against his lips as his fingers slid up your neck to cup your jaw.

“I love you too, darling.” He replied once you’d parted for breath, and he plucked the ring from its box to slide it onto the fourth finger of your right hand. “This is only the beginning.”

If only you’d known how seriously Lewis would take that statement. The baked goods immediately followed by a lavish dinner went a long way to easing your brother’s concerns and then all too soon Lewis had to return to France for his boat home. It was exceedingly difficult to see him go, though it was a relief to know you that, at least this time, you were not sending him off to combat.

It was not long after his departure, however, that your father began to receive regular wire transfers to cover rent and other necessities. Your father feigned innocence, though you did not believe him for one moment, as Lewis would not have known the necessary sum otherwise. You took to a letter to chastise Lewis, albeit lovingly.

While his subsequent responses acknowledged your wishes, they also cleverly shifted the focus to seeking your approval of potential homes and venues for your inevitable nuptials. It was late January of 1946 when a large trunk arrived by courier when you finally received the news you had been long awaiting. Johnny was at work, your father at the pub. You were enjoying a rare moment at home alone after finishing work for the day, having kept a small roster of clients to accumulate pocket money to spend on previously frivolous things like skin care and hair cuts.

Signing the receipt slip, you had the delivery man set it in the living room before kneeling to open it, gasping at the neatly folded piles of clothing contained within. Laying atop were two envelopes, one letter-sized and another legal-sized. You quickly retrieved the letter, assuming it would contain the most explanation, and sliced it open with your trusty butter knife.

It was fortunate that you were the only one at home, for the childish squeal you let out as you fell onto the sofa would have been a mortifying thing for anyone else to witness. Fumbling slightly, fingers made clumsy with glee, you took the ring from your right hand and quickly slid it onto your left where it truly belonged, holding it up to admire it proudly. Glancing at the watch on the same wrist, you sat up, realizing you still had time to send your reply and grabbed your handbag and overcoat, dashing out the door and down the lane to the post office.

It took a bit of explanation from the clerk, it being your first telegram after all, but you managed to condense your words to keep the entire process affordable.

The next few weeks were a flurry of activity, with Lewis’s reply arriving by cable the next day that he would be in London mid-February. You employed the services of a local seamstress, as ordered, to have your trousseau properly fitted. Lewis proved yet again that he had paid attention, having sent a few dresses and ensembles in ivory and white to choose from – and mercifully nothing so ostentatious as a full wedding gown. You were able to give ample notice to your clients and you’d already procured a passport – thankfully you’d started that process in September of the previous year. Using your accumulated ration coupons, you purchased a swimming costume and an irresistibly fine nightgown for your wedding night.

It felt like no time at all before the three of you were stepping into the suite at the Ritz that Lewis had reserved for you to get ready for your wedding that evening, and the rest of your family to stay the night before returning to Swindon on the morning train while the pair of you headed out on your honeymoon. You were startled to find a young woman waiting for you there.

“Good afternoon miss, sirs. My name is Sara. Mr. Nixon has sent me to assist you in getting ready. He asked me to give you this before you could protest.” She held out an envelope of telltale Ritz stationery and you took it with a fond sigh, following her into the room where the bellhop deposited your trunk.

Huffing in bemused annoyance, you quickly turned your attention back to Sara, working with her to hang up your outfit for the impending ceremony before looking over the selection of ‘decorations.’ Lewis had sent several sets of jewelry for you to choose from and after some deliberation you eventually settled on one before submitting yourself to Sara’s talents as she saw to your hair. Mercifully, all rumours had proven true, and the yellow hue had vanished from your skin and hair, returning you to your normal appearance. Your diligent use of skin care had also gone a long way to soften the callouses of your work-roughened hands and by the time Sara was through with you, you almost didn’t recognize yourself.

Stepping out to where Johnny and your father were waiting in their new suits, purchased with a hoarding of ration coupons and Johnny’s excellent wages from his new post at the Great Western Railway, the three of you gawked openly at one another.

“Well, we certainly clean up nice, aye?” Your father grinned.

“You look pretty as a picture, sis.” Johnny grinned and pulled you in for a hug just as Sara hurried out with a small bouquet of white roses.

“Don’t forget these, miss. Your car to the embassy is waiting downstairs.”

You took it carefully and smiled to her. “Thank you so very much for your assistance, Sara, I really appreciate it.”

“Oh, my pleasure miss.” She blushed prettily, bowing her head shyly. “I’ll see to it that your trunk is moved to Mr. Nixon’s suite with the rest of your luggage. Congratulations.”

You parted with your thanks before heading downstairs, trying not to roll your eyes when you found the waiting car was a Rolls Royce. You really might have to murder him at the end of that aisle. Climbing in carefully, the three of you drove to number one Grosvenor Square, the address of the American Embassy. It had been Lewis’s idea of course, and only possible given that he personally knew the ambassador Mr. Harriman.

It was his hope that it would ease your immigration to the United States, to be technically married on American soil, while still being able to have Johnny and your father in attendance. The building was rather imposing as you climbed out of the car, thanking the driver as he held the door, not at all what you would have imagined for your wedding. Then again, you’d never imagined marrying an American divorcé set to inherit a great fortune one day, either.

Surrendering your coats to one of the ambassadorial staff, you took a moment to compose yourself as Johnny stepped into the reception room, nodding to your father when you were ready before the doors were opened and you made slow progress down the aisle, allowing for the extra time it took him to manipulate his prosthetic leg with each step. You were pleased Lewis had chosen a smaller room, there were not that many people in attendance, really just the ambassador and his wife, your small family, and Lewis and yourself. But as you walked down the short aisle towards the man waiting for you in black tie with the officiant at his side you were certain nothing had ever been more perfect in your entire life.

Your father shook Lewis’s hand before giving you a quick peck on the cheek, ambling over to his chair as Lewis took your arm in turn. He leaned in to whisper warmly in your ear.

“You look incredible, darling.”

Swallowing tightly, you whispered back. “You are lucky there are too many witnesses to commit manslaughter here.”

He barely contained his laughter.

The ceremony was sweet and simple. The signing of the licence took a little extra time as you also completed your immigration application at the same time, with his excellency Mr. Harriman signing as a sponsor – a breathtaking honour which you were quite certain you would never be able to fully process. Lewis had also clearly bought the wedding bands at the same time as the engagement ring as they all looked quite smart next to one another once placed on your respective fingers.

The intensity of Lewis’s eyes on yours as the officiant pronounced you man and wife had you feeling rather apprehensive of the kiss he was about the lay on you, a kiss you were admittedly no less desperate for after nearly six months, but reticent to share in front of an audience. To your surprise, and slight disappointment, it was a soft and utterly appropriate kiss that only left you wanting more as the small group of attendees applauded your finally-accomplished-union.

Bestowing the bouquet upon the ambassador’s wife insistently, in gratitude, you finally allowed Lewis to pull you down to the separate car waiting to take the pair of you back to the hotel where the four of you would celebrate in a private dining room. The driver had barely closed the door before Lewis was pulling you close, at last delivering the thorough conquering of your mouth you had been yearning for as you clung to his coat, not wanting to ruin his styled hair.

“I have missed you far too much, darling.” He whispered against your lips as the driver pulled the car into traffic. “How will I ever repay your patience with me?”

“Do not remind me of balances and things owing, Lewis, I’m in a good mood.” You teased fondly. “You will meet my rage tomorrow when we’re stuck on a boat together for days on end. Tonight is for celebration only.”

He responded with a lopsided grin as his gaze traversed your face, expression fading slowly to one of seriousness before he kissed you fiercely once more, hands sliding dangerously close to your carefully pinned hair. You pulled back quickly with a pout.

“You can ruin that later.” You panted a little and he pressed his face against the crook of your shoulder.

“I will ruin more than your hair later.” He spoke, breath skating along your skin, making you shudder for many reasons. “Darling, are you certain this is not your murder plot unfurling right before my eyes?” He lifted his eyes to look up at you with a pained expression, your fingers reaching out to cup his cheek sympathetically as the car pulled up outside the hotel.

Summoning the strength to compose yourselves as the driver came around to open the door, you stepped out carefully and took Lewis’s arm to head inside, rather enjoying the way people glanced at the pair of you approvingly.

A small feast of beef wellington, Victoria sponge, and tea with milk and sugar – among other delights – awaited you all back at the Ritz. Lewis was barely able to keep his hands from ensnaring yours, his knee from pressing against your thigh, from feeding you bites of food proudly. He did an amiable job of getting to know Johnny better this time despite his distraction, the previous adversarial tension having evaporated from your brother with the arrival of the divorce decree several weeks ago. Lewis took great interest in Johnny’s employment and the topic of conversation devolved into a rather intense debate about railways…even as Lewis began to pull the hem of your dress higher beneath the tablecloth with tantalizingly bold fingertips. Eventually your father dragged a very stuffed and well-liquored Johnny off to bed, freeing the two of you from the obligation of entertaining them any longer at which point Lewis lifted your left hand to press a kiss to the rings on your finger.

“Well, Mrs. Nixon.”

You smiled shyly, but delightedly, to hear your new title from his lips. “Well, Mr. Nixon.”

“Fait accompli. At last.”

Nodding warmly, you leaned in to kiss him gently, giggling as he tasted of icing sugar and strawberry jam from his last bite of cake. “We should let them in here to clean up.”

“Are you propositioning me, Mrs. Nixon?” He teased as he stood, sliding his arm around your waist as you stood in turn.

“No!” You squeaked in self-defence, though you were more than a little enticed by his earlier promises from the car.

“Then allow me to proposition you, I would very much like to see what you’re wearing underneath this lovely outfit.”

“Mr. Nixon!” You feigned shock even as you pulled him out of the private dining room to head up to your shared suite.

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Read Part Six

I Wish You Love Masterlist

Tag list: @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos, @bcon24, @gretagerwigsmuse

#lewis nixon x reader #lewis nixon imagines #lewis nixon imagine #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #hbo war fic #lewis nixon #band of brothers #easy company

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clarasghosts · 1 year ago

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entropy | the staircase (2022)

#the staircase #the staircase hbo #the staircase 2022 #colin firth #toni collette #something something entropy of identity

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malarkgirlypop · 1 year ago

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MEDIC! Part 19 (Donald Malarkey x Fem!OC)

Ok guys just read this one really quick so I can upload Chapter 20, ok, cool, you got it. Great, alright read fast!

Based on the HBO show and the actors who portray the characters, no hate to anyone involved.Keep reading

Tag list: @next-autopsy, @panzershrike-pretz, @xxluckystrike, @bucky32557038ww2 (let me know if you want to be tagged.)

I hurried along the streets, saying hello to the men I passed. I finally made it to the house. Hearing familiar voices from the upper room I made my way up the staircase.

“Ah there she is. We were wondering where you disappeared too.” Babe said as I reached the top.

“I’m a busy bee Babe, you should know that.” I sat next to the man, who perched on the edge of the bunk.

“Oh, bunk beds.” I said bouncing up and down on the mattress, it squeaked under me.

“Saved you the lower bunk under me.” Babe told me. I smiled at him, giving his hair a tousle.

“Ah you’re a sweetheart.” He grinned at me. I glanced across the room to see Don standing on the far side looking out the window smoking. A solemn expression visible on his features. I watched him just smoking.

“He’s been like that since we started coming from Rachamps.” Babe whispered to me, I nodded agreeing with him. I don’t know what happened. Was it because he knew I was ok, he finally let himself process. If that was the case I feel awful, they were his friends before I was close with them. I let it cloud my thoughts so much I couldn’t even ensure that he was fine. Now he’s stepping back from me, is that what he wants? I need to talk to him, but I can’t get him alone at the moment, now that he’s a ranking officer it seems like everyone needs to talk to him. I have barely been able to have a moment with him without someone else requesting him. They obviously take priority over me. Babe’s hand landed on my knee giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“You’ll find some time.” He says as if he can read my thoughts. I nod, turning my attention back onto the conversation the men are having as they all lie on the bunks. I’m so excited to be able to sleep on a bed with a pillow and sheets. Even if it is some crappy thin mattress, better than the cold hard floor.

“Oh My God! I forgot to say, you’ll never guess what Webster said to me.” I announced to the group. They all waited for me to tell them. “Well firstly he was like, ‘when did nurses work on the front?’ So I corrected him. But then he said, ‘oh yeah I remember you, wow I’m surprised you’re still alive’.” I waited for their response, my mouth open to show my shocked face.

“What?!” Babe said from beside me.

“You’re joking?” Grant asked, I shook my head.

“That cheeky fucker.” Lieb growled.

“I know! I was like excuse me! Rude!” I scoffed while laughing. “I think he’s being put with us.” I also told them, a collective groan echoed around the room. I laughed at their enthusiasm.

“Oh speak of the devil.” I motioned with my head to the door, as Webster and Jones wandered in looking dazed.

“Hey, guys. This taken?” He asked about the top bunk no one had claimed yet.

“Go ahead.” Rameriz told him, lying down on his own bunk. Webster threw his bag onto the bed claiming it for his own.

“Sergeant, this is Lieutenant Jones, just assigned to 2nd platoon.” Webster informed Malarkey. All eyes were on the pair. The men in the corner who were helping themselves to hot drinks and standing around the heater, eyed up the young Lieutenant.

“Malarkey, platoon Sergeant.” Don said.

“Congratulations on the battlefield commission.” Jones said, reaching out his hand to shake Don’s. I watched as Malarkey glanced at the outstretched hand looking confused.

“The what?” Malarkey asked, shaking his hand.

“They’re making you an officer, no?” Jones inquired. Lieb sniggerd into his cup, as Webster turned around to glare at him. Realising too late that Lieb was just fucking with him.

“Me? No.” Malarkey chuckled, looking back to see Grant and Lieb trying to hide their grins. “You must be thinking of First Sergeant Lipton.” Jones and Webster share a glance, clearly Webster had passed on the information that Lieb had given him this morning to the officer, only to be very wrong. Webster gave a defeated shrug and shake of his head.

“My mistake.” Jones apologised to Don. “So you’re without a platoon leader?”

“No, not anymore, Lieutenant.” Don said to the officer.

“Right.” Jones nodded as if he seemingly forgot his rank. “So do you want to introduce me to the men?” He asked. Don gave him a tight smile, he was busy and so were the men.

“Well, some of them are sleeping downstairs. The rest are right here.” Jones glanced around the room looking at the men, who gave him small nods as they made eye-contact. His eyes landed on me, I gave a small smile.

“A female.” He said, looking at me. Don turned around to look at him. “Our medic, Emily.”

“Odd for a female to be on the front.” Jones said without thinking. The chatter ceased in the room, waiting for him to say something else.

“She’s a good medic, we’re lucky to have her.” Don said, sending me a smile. I grinned back appreciative of his defence.

“What? Is it be mean to Emily day?” I whispered to Babe, who just chuckled, shaking his head continuing to read the comic he had picked up. Jones cleared his throat moving on from the awkward conversation he’d started.

“Sergeant, a patrol’s being planned for tonight 0100 hours across the river. Regiment wants POWs for interrogation. What’s the situation?” Jones asked, the men moving their conversation somewhere more private, away from listening ears. The men all looked pissed, they again were being chosen to go on an attack.

“Hey Web. Come here. I just want to talk to you for a sec” Lieb pulled the man from over by the window. Webster seemed rightly suspicious of Lieb’s motives. “Why?” He asked, resisting Lieb’s arm that snaked around his neck trying to drag him elsewhere.

“Come here, You want some coffee.” Lieb offered as he ushered him to the bunks Babe and I sat on.

“No.” Web said, stepping out of the man’s arm.

“Is this kid out of highschool yet?” Lieb asked Webster. They both looked over to the young officer who was speaking with Malarkey.

“He’s out of West Point.” Webster informed the men.

“West Point?” Lieb asked. I have no idea what West Point is.

“Isn’t that where Ike went?” Jackson said from above me, spread out on the top bunk.

Babe, now more invested in the conversation, put down the comic I was reading over his shoulder. Lieb stood right in front of me as he spoke to Webster, I couldn’t see anything past his butt. I leaned more into Babe so that I didn’t feel like I was being suffocated by Joe’s ass.

“Yeah he actually graduated with his son.” Webster confirmed Jackson’s question.

“Shit, so ah… what do you know about this patrol thing?” Lieb’s true motive revealed themselves, his cunning ability to coerce information out of you.

“Uh, nothing.” Webster lied. I laughed, shaking my head. Oh poor sweet Webster you can’t get out of it this easily, not with Lieb you can’t.

“Oh, come on, Web. You gotta know something.” Ramirez adds to the peer pressure.

“I don’t.” Webster turns away fiddling with his bag.

Lieb spits on the ground, I nudge him with my foot, mouthing gross. He just smirks at me.

“Bullshit.” Lieb says. “You were there right? At the CP?” Chuck moves past us heading for the exit.

“Hey, Chuck, Listen to this.” Babe calls to him, he stops to listen. McClung sits beside Babe as we scooch down the bunk to make room.

“Come on, Webster, spill it.” Lieb is persistent with his interrogation. And now with everyone gathered around eager to hear, I’m sure he feels even more pressured. I can see his eyes finally give into it.

“Captain Speirs is to pick 15 men. Lt. Jones wants to be one of them.” Webster casted his gaze to the man who still spoke with Don.

“I say let the kid go. He could use the experience.” Lieb said.

“Probably could find 14 replacements to help him out.” Ramirez grinned.

“Why are you holding out on me? I know you know.” Lieb grilled Webster.

“Just give us the names, Web.” Ramirez and Lieb had him backed into a metaphorical corner.

“Who?” Lieb asked.

Webster glanced around all of us, our eyes trained on him, he had the answers. We waited patiently knowing that Lieb and Ramirez would break him at some point.

“There are three men here in this room that they think should be on the patrol.” Webster started.

“Who?” Ramirez asked, was there a bunch of owls somewhere? I laughed at my own joke. Babe gave me a weird look, wondering why I was chuckling. I’m funny ok! I cleared my throat paying attention again to the conversation.

“Well, if I tell you, you can’t let on that you know.” Webster stalled.

“Your secret’s safe, Web. Who is it?” Lieb promised. I almost laughed again, as if he would keep his mouth shut for Webster. But Webster was gullible enough to believe that Lieb would have his best interests at heart. Webster glanced at Babe sitting next to me. Babe shook his head, he didn’t want to be chosen, he was waiting for his name not to be called. I tensed, I wasn’t particularly keen on any of the men being sent but especially not Babe.

“Yeah, Heffron.” Webster confirmed our fears.

“Aw, shit.” Babe groaned, dragging his hand across his face. I sighed along with Babe who looked disappointed. This time I was the one to give him a pat of reassurance on his leg. McClung, who sat on his other side, threw an arm around his shoulders.

“McClung…” Webster continued, Earl also groaned in annoyance. Babe slapped his leg, in a well-were-in-this-together-now way.

“And you.” Webster said to Ramirez, looking equally as disappointed as the other two.

“He want any other guys from any other platoon?” Lieb asked, looking down into his cup of coffee.

“No, no. I don’t know. Not that I know of. Look, that’s all I know, I’m sorry.” Webster rambled on, trying to prove to Lieb he didn’t have any more information for him to draw out.

I almost leaped off the bed when Don yelled, “Listen up!” I grabbed onto Babe's arm out of instinct. Covering my heart with my other hand, to stop it jumping out of my chest.

“Got some bad news. There is a patrol set for tonight. And so far, Speirs wants McClung–” Don told the room. But was interrupted.

“We know.” McClung told Don.

“Yeah, we just fucking heard. Webster here told us.” Babe blabbed, so much for keeping it a secret. But Babe and Earl never made any promises to the man, only Lieb.

Don answers the ringing phone, mumbling into it. He hangs up quickly, having more information to give us. “The PX rations just came in, including winter shoe packs.” Don informs us.

“Beautiful.” Ramirez says sarcastically.

“Yeah, finally right?” Don agrees.

“Good of ‘em, now we’re in a nice warm house.” Lieb adds.

“Also we get showers.” Don tells us. I gasp so loudly everyone stares at me. Pure delightment on my face.

“We get showers!” I say excitedly. I feel like I can bounce off the walls. A shower sounds amazing. I make quiet screaming noises. I feel like a kid on christmas. Everyone watches me have my mini celebration. I stop mid party, “Sorry, I’m just really excited to have a shower.”

“Yeah, no we can tell.” Lieb laughs at me, patting me on the head.

“You’re so cute!” Babe teases trying to pinch my cheeks, I fend him off. Before he can reach me the distant sounds of explosions boom through the room. The sounds of whistling are closer, the sound of a bomb being dropped in close proximity.

“All right, let's move! Clear it out! Move, move!” Don yells over the noise. We get to our feet, rushing out of the top room into the lower floors. Babe is behind me pushing me down the stairs faster than my feet can take me. We barge into the basement taking cover. Everyone yelling at everyone to get down, take cover, incoming. The bombs stop right as we reach the room. I laugh in disbelief of course it would stop right as we are safe. Everyone else had the same reaction, well except for Jones and Webster. They both looked like they were about to faint from shock.

“Showers lets go!” Don ushered us out. I was quickly on my feet, yes showers, omg I want to wash my hair, and body. Omg maybe shave my legs with running water.

-----------------------------------

Chapter 20

#guys just read it real fast #or don't maybe just pretend you did #the next couple of chapter are fun again #not just fillers #I know their good cause i cried while writing #which normally means they aren't boring #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #donald malarkey #hbo war #band of brothers imagine #fanfic #joe toye #bill guarnere #dick winters #emarkey #emily lane

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next-autopsy · 7 months ago

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A/N: Well, hi there! Damn, it has been awhile, how have y’all been? I hope y’all enjoy this chapter, I have more chapter to come so stay tuned

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: I think none...

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter twenty five: A Sleepover

Nixon snored peacefully in the spare room of the house Winters was billited to, while Birdie and Joe stood nearby waiting like kids in trouble.

Winters had taken his drunk friend off of the woman and with Liebgott’s help, tossed him there to sleep off the alcohol. He rummaged around for a blanket and once found, lay it over Lewis.

“Good thinking, bringing him here.” Winters commended Birdie, she beamed at him, happy to receive any sort of compliment from her favourite lieutenant. Meanwhile, Joe kept silent, watching the interaction between the two with curiosity.

“Thank you, sir.” Bernadette smiled at him, following him out of the room and downstairs with Liebgott trailing behind.

“You remembered they are away visiting relatives.” Again, he praised her and Birdie smiled up at him, cheeks tinting pink.

“Yes, sir.” Winters nodded at her response. “I wouldn’t have brought him here otherwise.” As she spoke, Richard gave a small smile, seemingly impressed with the young lady.

“You’ll take my bed, I'll get you some clothes to sleep in.” Richard spoke to the girl, he led the two into the kitchen, “Liebgott?”

“Yes, sir?” Joe tensed, fearing a scolding from the redhead.

“You’re on the couch.” Clear and simple. No reprimands.

“Yes, sir.” He had no arguments, sleep sounded amazing right now.

“Sir? Shouldn’t we head back to the barracks?” Birdie reached out to touch Richard's forearm, gaining his attention before he marched off to find them spare clothes. Winters stopped his action to look at her.

“It’s far too late for that, Birdie.” Dick spoke softly to her, using her nickname, something that shocked Joe. He could only watch the two talking and listen in, “By the time you two get back, you’ll have less than an hour to sleep before you need to get up. Just stay here the night, I'll make breakfast for you and you can head over with me.” He wasn’t exactly leaving room for discussion. Birdie nodded and Richard left.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know he'd make us stay.” Bernadette took a tentative step closer to Joe.

“Don’t worry about it.” He spoke quickly and wouldn't make eye contact so Birdie assumed he was upset with the situation.

“Are you-” She began to question his odd behaviour but was interrupted.

“Here.” Winters was back and handed over two piles of spare clothes to the two soldiers in his temporary kitchen.

“Thank you, sir.” They spoke in tandem.

“Living room is through there.” Dick pointed to the door behind Liebgott, who nodded and walked in that direction. Winters turned to Birdie and gestured to the staircase, she nodded and headed that way.

“On the left.” Dick told her, she turned left and entered the room, revealing a simple bedroom with drawers, a single bed and a little window covered by light blue curtains.

“Where will you sleep?” She eyed him, he only smiled and shook his head. A gesture that made her think of her father, sudden melancholy washed over her. She missed him dearly, even though they exchanged letters often. She saw her father in Richard, little movements or facial expressions, sometimes his tone of voice.

“I’ll be fine, Birdie.” His words were soft, “Bathroom’s down the hall to the right, can’t miss it.”

“Thank you.” She fiddled with the fabric in her hands, waiting for Dick to say more or leave. He turned and took a single step, then froze and faced her once more.

“What were you doing out so late?” Richard questioned, not judgmentally simply curious or slightly concerned for the young lady he had grown so fond of.

“We were…. I-I….” She sighed, “Dancing….” Birdie stuttered, keeping her voice and head low. It really did feel like she was speaking to her father and she couldn’t shake the notion that he was disappointed in her, it made her shrink back and cringe.

“Birdie….” Richard paused, “I care about you. I don't want to see you dismissed because of-...” He let out a deep sigh, “You understand fraternizing is against the rules?” That got her attention. Her head shot up, eyes wide as she gaped at him,

“Oh! We- It wasn't like that!”

“Sure. But you understand, right?” He had to be certain she was aware of the consequences and how serious the punishment would be for her.

“I understand, sir. Nothing happened.” Bernadette gave in, sighing. Richard felt bad, he hadn’t meant to upset her, but he wouldn't allow her to get this far only to be sent home in disgrace because of some boy.

“Good. Sleep well.”

—----------------------------

“Liebgott.”

“Jesus! Sir, you scared me.”

“Here.” Richard passed over a pillow and a blanket, which Joe accepted happily, now wearing the lieutenants spare clothes.

“Thank you, sir.” Joe spoke, stepping to the couch to set up his sleeping space. Richard stood and watched him, studying his movements, it gave Liebgott chills and made him feel like he had done something very wrong.

“Was there something else, sir?” He wanted to fidget with something but knew the lieutenant observing him would notice so he refrained. Richard kept quiet for a moment, his eyes squinted at the man, then like nothing happened, he shook his head, spoke a soft ‘No’ and left.

Joe tried to shrug off the behaviour but couldn’t help the ideas forming in his head. He lay on the surprisingly comfortable couch and stared up at the ceiling, brain occupied with Birdie and Winters strange responses. He kept switching between thoughts of dancing with the beautiful girl and then the look of… was it disappointment? Displeasure? Anger? He couldn’t tell, Winters was a hard man to read.

—--------------------------

Breakfast was an uncomfortable ordeal. Richard had woken his three guests in the otherwise empty house, though Nixon told him to ‘fuck off’ and kept sleeping. Birdie spent ages in the bathroom primping, she tried her hardest to brush through her hair with her fingers so she was somewhat presentable.

Downstairs, Dick toasted bread and boiled water and Liebgott sat at the dining table, waiting. The quiet between them was palpable. Joe considered sneaking off and never returning but before he could make a move, Winters placed plates on the table with a clatter and sat in the seat across from him. The only thing Joe could do was wait while the lieutenant stared at him from the otherside of the table.

“So… dancing.” Richard was the first to break the silence.

“Sir?” He was confused by Dick’s words, was that a question? And why did Joe feel like he was about to be told off?

“Last night… Birdie told me you two… danced.” The places he decided to pause gave the sentence a very different meaning, one that had Joe blushing.

“Uh… Yes, sir.”

“Hmm…” A brief pause, “Birdie- Corporal Coldwell has worked very hard to get where she is. Harder than any man, harder than me…. Harder than you.” Winters told him, his face was stoic and stern. Liebgott shuffled his feet under the table. He should've left last night when he was alone in the living room.

“Yes, sir. She has.” Joe agreed, she had proved herself time and time again and it wouldn't stop there, she’d have to continue proving she was of value to every man she met while serving as a paratrooper.

“I would hate to see her throw all her hard work away, wouldn’t you?” Dick raised his eyebrow to make sure Joe understood the underlying meaning of the early morning chat.

He did. “Yes, sir.” He had understood the redhead loud and clear and now he wanted the ground to swallow him whole.

“Morning!” Birdie chirped, appearing round the corner. She skipped to the table with two sets of eyes on her.

“Good morning.” Dick replied, watching as she sat and picked a piece of toast, smothering it in marmalade and chomping at it. After she had taken her food, the two men began to consume theirs.

“Morning.” Joe mumbled. The trio took turns looking at each other while they chewed and sipped.

“I’m heading back to base at 0700.” Richard checked his watch, making sure they were still on track to make it there in time. Luckily it was a Sunday, which meant late morning starts as most people were hungover or at the Sunday service put on for those wanting to worship. Birdie was usually one of those people, raised a devout Catholic, she was yet to miss a Sunday service.

Today might be that day. Winters saw the look on her face and read her mind. “You’ll make the service. I’ll make sure of it.” She nodded at the man, trusting he had a plan.

Liebgott found himself observing the pair yet again, intrigued and confused by the dynamic. At first glance, the Corporal and the Lieutenant looked at each other like they were in love, absolutely smitten. Birdie’s eyes shimmered everytime she glanced at the redhead and he couldn’t help but smile at her even though he typically dawned a stoic expression. There was something between them, Joe was sure of it.

The more Liebgott watched, the more he noticed. The pair shared small touches, a hand on the arm, a gentle pat on the back, even a brush of their knees.

Something in the back of Joe’s mind yelled everytime Birdie smiled at Richard and begged him to speak up when Richard showed any affection back. He just wanted to know, for certain, how Birdie felt about the other man at the table. The previous night they spent together, dancing, talking and laughing had made him realize his feelings towards the Mississippi woman, and he had started to believe she may reciprocate. He was hooked on everything about her, her charm and wit was only the beginning.

But now, he questioned that. Joe had truly thought she was leaning in to meet him halfway, before their almost first kiss was interrupted. Seeing how she acted toward Winters was unsettling, he hadn't realized they were that close and he didn’t like it.

“I’ll go get Nix up.” Dick told the young lady, smiling at her warmly then left her at the table to finish her breakfast.

“So… How did you sleep?” The woman spoke out to him, her morning voice was somewhat groggy and strained but her interest was genuine.

“Fine.” Joe really tried to keep his upset to himself, it wasn’t his business if Coldwell was in love with Winters. They were friends, he reminded himself. New friends, so he had no say in who she liked or talked to.

“Joey… are you okay?” Birdie paused, “You seem… quiet.”

Joe found that he didn't like that nickname anymore. When she first suggested it, he had feigned a hatred for the title: Joey, but hearing it from her had him reeling. It was all he wanted her to call him for the rest of their lives. He thought he would never tire of it. Joey. Yes he was pleased last night when she bestowed the cutesy name upon him but now…. Now he wanted it to stop. His stomach churned at the sound and he toyed with the idea of asking her to stop it.

“You go to service every Sunday?” It was his attempt at changing the subject, ignoring the twist in his belly and the hot feeling that crept up him when he thought of her and Winters.

“I sure try.” Birdie knew he was avoiding but she decided to let him… for now. She would not forget this moment and most definitely be finding some time alone with him, properly alone, to discuss it.

“Hmm.” Deep in thought he continued with his breakfast, his mind kept wandering to Winters. The man was an officer for Christ's sake, he couldn’t compete with that. He was well respected, calm and compassionate, all great qualities and essentially the opposite of Joe. He tried to find a flaw, something he could zone in on and hate but he just couldn’t. He liked Richard Winters and was starting to see the compatibility between the officer and Bernadette.

“You can eat on the way.” The two men from upstairs, trotted into the kitchen. After seeing Nixon so out of sorts the previous night, it was a surprise to both Joe and Birdie to see the man fully dressed and clean shaven standing in front of them like he hadn't just been severely drunk several hours before.

“Morning all.” Nixon spoke, turning to give Dick a concealed look once he noticed which two soldiers were sitting at the table. He didn’t exactly remember the night's events but Richard had told him he was brought here by two second platooners and now seeing their faces, flashes of meeting up with the couple on an empty road replayed in his head.

Nixon couldn’t help but smirk. Someone owed him twenty dollars.

A/N: Tell me what you think and expected another chapter shortly

~ Nex ~

Chapter twenty six: Half an explanation

#band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #joe liebgott #richard winters #lewis nixon #made of glass #band of brothers fanfic #fem oc #oc #next autopsy #made of glass chapter twenty five

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phantomspiderr · 2 years ago

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By Any Means ║ Part 4

Pairing: Joel Miller x *f!reader

Word Count: 1.6k+

Summary: being split up, you learn you really need to watch your back. It's a good thing Ellie's there to do it for you

Warnings/Tags: tlou hbo spoilers, trauma, canon level violence, cursing, mentions of death, mentions of guns, knife being used, a stinky man, injury, ellie's a little mean, but also protective ellie🥰, again I promise there's a little fluff too

a/n: appreciate you all, thank you🤍

*no real description of reader or gender as far as I know but I've written it with a female reader in mind

series masterlist | phantomspiderr masterlist

“Joel!” The rubble in the doorway collapses and Ellie only just manages to push herself through. You’d told him the rubble in the doorway wasn’t stable, but of course his stubborn ass is always right. Now you’re split up with no other obvious way through.

“I’m alright! Are you-“

“We’re okay,” you help pull Ellie back onto her feet, faintly checking her over to make sure she is in fact alright.

“Okay. Just-just stay there, I’ll find a way around!”

“Be careful!”

“Don’t die!” You give Ellie a stern look, one that says, ‘why would you say something like that?!’ She gives you an exasperated look when she speaks again, this time with a little attitude, “what? Do you want him to die?”

“Just stay here. I’m going to check the place out, see if there’s any supplies.” Gently, you shove a table that barricades the only other exit out of the way.

“Great idea. Leave the kid all alone.” Ellie speaks quietly and sarcastically as she throws herself down on an old chair, a plume of dust making her cough lightly. You only roll your eyes, opening the door just enough to slip through. You choose not to respond to Ellie, instead just descending the rusted staircase that leads into a rather large café. You briefly look around before you start searching cabinets. The unexpected time alone gives you a second to think.

It’s been days since your unexpected reunion with Joel and his new companion, who had somewhat taken an instant disliking towards you. She was mean for a fourteen year old. Why had she hated you before you’d even stopped to get to know each other? You’d barely even had a conversation. It all makes you miss Sarah. You miss her sarcasm and her laugh, and the way you’d bonded with each other. It makes you sad she isn’t here, only a small part of you is glad she didn’t have to see the world this way.

You’re swimming in your thoughts, too distracted to hear the person sneaking up behind you until it’s too late. You whip around at the sound of crunching glass, but the man pounces before you have a chance to draw a weapon. You fall hard on the ground, the man’s weight on top of you forcing you down face first. It hurts, you can feel shards of glass cut into your skin, and you’re panicking. You’re wildly trying to swing behind you, attempting to push your body up and get the guy off of you. Now you’re shouting, near on screaming as the guy manages to pin one of your arms behind your back. You wish you’d just stayed with the kid or that you’d been more through like you normally are. You can feel the press of cold metal against your neck and your entire body freezes, your eyes clamping shut. Maybe this is it, maybe this time your luck has run out. You don’t even hear what the horrid man says, only feeling—and smelling—his breath on your face as he talks. It feels like everything goes silent for a second before you hear a familiar yell, and then the weight on top of you is gone.

Now it’s like everything is in slow motion, you look up and see the man fumbling to get back onto his feet. He’s holding a hand to his head that’s now oozing bright red blood. You turn behind you and see a shocked Ellie holding a pipe that has a wet shine towards the end. Quickly, your fighting instincts come flooding back, you grab for the knife your assailant had dropped. You’re struggling to get up, but you don’t hesitate for a moment as you sink the knife into the man’s neck, removing it before sinking it back into a different part of his body and again. It’s violent and scary, but it’s protective and instinctual.

It’s only when the stranger's body is limp, blood pooling onto the surrounding floor, that you snap out of your survival instincts. It’s not the first life you’ve taken, and it certainly won’t be the last, but that doesn’t make it any easier. You can feel the way you’re trembling now, your chest heaves, and then you remember Ellie.

“You okay?” You rush over, crouching in front of her and checking her over, this time much more thoroughly. The previous dislike toward each other completely gone in that moment.

“I’m fine, you’re the one that’s hurt.” Ellie swings her backpack off and crouches down as you move to sit on the ground. You lean against the nearest upright surface, you know you should get somewhere safer, but you need a minute to close your eyes and just breathe. You can hear Ellie rummage in her pack and finally pulls out some something.

“We should move. There could be others.” You can feel pain sprouting in your ribs, and you faintly remember the guy’s fist colliding with the area. Your head hurts too, you really did hit the ground like a ton of bricks.

“I think if there were others they would be here already, you were screaming pretty loud. Surprised there’s not clickers from miles off running to us right now.” Her sarcasm makes you laugh this time, but it quickly turns into a pained groan, and you clutch at your ribs. “Stay still.”

You feel the sharp sting in your face as Ellie presses something to your face, your eyes fly open, and she backs off for a second. When you see it’s just a rag she’s soaked in alcohol, you settle down again, and she wordlessly resumes her efforts. Silently, she examines each cut before dabbing the cloth to your cuts, each time you let out a hiss and grit your teeth but stay still like she’d asked.

“Are you okay?” It comes out her mouth a little forcefully, almost insincere, but you think she actually means it.

“I’ll be fine,” you try your best to move to your feet, but fall back against the wall when pain strikes through your torso again.

“You two make sense now.” The simple sentence makes your eyebrows furrow, “both just as fucking stubborn as each other.”

You both look at each other for a second before you both start laughing, you’re more chuckling and saying ow repeatedly. The sweet sound quickly ends when you hear the crunching of glass again, this time your hand goes straight for your gun. Ellie grabs for her pipe again, both looking in the direction of the sound. You’re filled with relief when Joel’s head appears around an open doorway, placing your gun back into its holster as he looks around the place before rushing over to the both of you. Throwing his shotgun down haphazardly as he crouches directly in front of you.

“What in the fuck happened? I told you to stay put!” Okay, he’s angry. He’s quickly knocking your notably bloody hand out of the way, and he’s frantically checking to see if it’s your blood or not.

“It’s my fau-“

“We took care of it, the guy came out of nowhere, okay?” Ellie speaks sternly, and you almost admire her for standing up to Joel the way she does. You also note her use of we and you think about the laugh you’d shared, maybe you were starting to grow on her now.

“I’m okay,” your hands settle on top of Joel’s, and he stops his search for any life-threatening injuries. His eyes close for just a second, and he draws in a deep breath as if to centre himself again.

“You should’ve listened to me.” His voice isn’t as harsh this time and one of his hands slips up to your face, brushing just passing your ear to hold your head.

“Maybe next time I will,” you can’t help the slow growing smile that forms. Again, you’re reduced to a past version of yourself as your heart rate picks up.

“Hi, I’m still here! If you two are gonna kiss and shit, wait until I’m gone!” You both watch as Ellie quickly packs her things back into her backpack. Slipping her new handy dandy pipe into a strap on the outside of her pack, and she slings the bag onto her shoulder. Then she turns so her back is to the both of you, and she mutters, “gross.”

You laugh just a little and Joel does too, only stopping when you wince in pain. You squeeze Joel’s hand that’s still in yours and push your head more into his other. Joel just holds onto you until the pain passes, he even presses a kiss to your temple, and it’s the sweetest gesture you’ve seen from him since before the outbreak. But it’s gone just as quick as it had come.

“Can you walk?” He moves the hand away from your head and takes your other hand again as you nod slowly. “Okay, come on, I found somewhere we can rest.”

Joel hauls you up onto your feet, it’s painful, and you suck in a sharp breath, but once the initial pain subsides it’s bearable. Joel crouches again to grab his gun before straightening up in front of you. He gives you another look over before he steps back and calls for Ellie, who’s busiest herself by reading over a worn out menu.

“Let’s go.” Joel moves back towards the doorway he had entered from, turning back to look at you. When he sees you take a few steps, Ellie sticking to your side, he turns back around, focusing on leading the way to some form of safety.

“Thank you.” You turn your head to Ellie, and she actually smiles when she looks at you.

“You’re welcome.”

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