Imagines. | Band of Brothers [𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡]

hemingway. | david webster

requested by Simrankaur2004 

***

"Y/N," someone called you from a doorway, "Come in here." 

You rushed to the head nurses office, nearly skidding on your shoes. You had been volunteering in a makeshift hospital in the farmlands of England, away from the noise of the rest of Europe. Except you felt like you were right in the middle of it. You and a hundred other women had volunteered to help in various aid stations, and this was the first time you have ever been called into the head nurses' office. You were mainly assigned to cleaning duty, and you've managed to convince yourself you weren't made to be a nurse. You just didn't have the touch.

You now stood timidly in front of the head nurse's desk. She had her back to you, and was taking supplies from a cabinet and putting them in a wooden crate in front of her. "I'm assigning you to take care of someone," she said monotonously, probably tired, "Don't worry, he got hurt in the leg due to machine gun fire, but he'll very much survive." You simply bowed your head, and she nodded to the crate filled with supplies. "He's in Room 217," she smiled, finally looking you in the eye, "There are bandages in the 2nd floor supply closet in case you need to change his wraps."

Nodding, you picked up the box, headed to the supply closet to get extra bandages, and made your way to Room 217. You stepped in side and was met by a soldier sitting on his bed, fully engrossed in a book he was reading. Judging from the look on his face, he hadn't noticed you were there. You cleared your throat and he snapped his head up and smiled.

"Hello," you said, your voice shaking, "I'm assigned to you." The man smiled reassuringly, and your shoulders relaxed. You placed the crate on the floor before making your way to his side. His thigh was no longer bleeding, definitely the work of the nurse before you, but you decided to change his bandages anyway. Looking up at him questioningly, the man nodded, placed his book beside him and sat upright so you could take a look at the wound in his thigh.

"What's your name?" you asked him as you peeled the bandage from his wound, trying to distract him.

"Webster, ma'am," he replied, "David Webster."

You glanced at his book, "What are you reading?"

"For Whom the Bell Tolls," David replied once more, picking up the book and showing you the cover, "It's by Ernest Hemingway."

You cleaned his wound as gently as you could, but a grunt still escaped his lips, "Could you tell me what its about?" You asked as you noticed him paying close attention to your actions. Now, more than ever, you questioned your capabilities. 

"About a solider during the Spanish Civil War," he began, but leaned in once more to watch you, "It's a good book. It's a shame I read through it too quickly." You quickly wrapped his thigh once more, tightening it. You threw his bloodied old bandage in a bucket for you to wash next time. You cleaned your hands and brought him a tray of food that was on a cart by his door. 

"Do you need anything else?" you asked, bowing your head cordially. You could hear a nurse asking for aid outside.

"Another book," the man grinned, waving his book in the air, "I never got your name."

You bit your lip and nodded, taking his request seriously, "Its y/n. I'll see you tomorrow."

The next day, you headed to David's room to go check on him and bring him food. You tucked a book you had found at home under your arm which you hoped he could read. Inside, instead of reading, the man was hunched over a notebook on his lap, a pen in his hand. You cleared your throat, "Private Webster."

"Oh," he murmured, setting his pen and notebook aside, "Didn't see you there, y/n. Call me David, by the way." You merely hummed in response.

"I brought something for you," you grinned, tossing the book on his lap.

"My Name is Aram, huh?" David grinned back, reading the cover of the book, "I was joking, you know. You didn't have to do this."

"But I wanted to."

The man's blue eyes twinkled as he pushed his blanket off of him so you could begin changing his bandage like you did the day before. 

*** 

David had been in the hospital for over 2 months.

Every few days, he would finish a book, return it to you, and ask you for another. And every few days, you would take your book away from him and try your best to find more.

Changing his bandages had slowly turned to asking him about his life back in America. You learned he was a writer, and he had been taking note of his experiences on the battlefield. You, also, soon learned he had just lost his best friend in Nuenen. He didn't speak of it. You didn't ask.

He frequently sent letters to his family, letters he always read aloud to you to make sure it was written well. You knew he just wanted to talk about home with somebody.

One day, as you were changing his bandages once more, he looked up from the book he was currently reading aloud from and asked, "When this is over, what are you going to do?"

You hadn't thought of that, you could only picture the end of each day. "I'm not sure, I never thought that ahead."

"You should become a real nurse," David smiled, placing a gentle arm on your shoulder, "You're very good at it." That made you pause, and you sighed, a soft smile on your face. "Or you could be a librarian. You have excellent taste in books."

The two of you stared at each other before laughing. You laughed because both of them were amazing ideas.

***

You watched David, your hands behind your back. The man you have taken care of for the past 3 months stood tall, his thigh leaving only a scar where he had been wounded.

He was flying to Haguenau, France, where he would return to fight side by side with his comrades. You were saddened by the fact that you would no longer have afternoons listening to him read to you, saddened by the fact that you may well never see the man you've grown so close to again. You imagined he was sad as well.

"Y/n," he began, fishing something out of his backpack. It was his copy of For Whom the Bell Tolls by Ernest Hemingway. You felt tears fill your eyes, and you looked up at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"What's this?" you asked, but you knew. So you'd never forget him.

"A thank you," David replied, pressing the book in your hands, "For being so kind to me, and for everything else you've done for me. I was sure I'd go insane after finishing this."

You threw your arms around him, nearly toppling him over. The two of you stood there, you on your toes with your arms around his neck, while he stroked your back gently. Once you let go, he took the book from your hands and flipped to the last page.

Written on it was his name and an address, "This is where my mother lives, in America. I need you to promise me something."

You would promise anything for him.

"Bring me more books regardless of whether or not you become a librarian."

***

a/n: my first ever request! i was so excited to write this, i sat myself down and finished it as quickly as i could. i hope you like it! <33

feel free to comment feedback or your thoughts, the whole nine yards. i would greatly appreciate it!

with love, 

𝓖.