Imagines. | Band of Brothers [𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡]

coping. | carwood lipton

for @Angelica_writes_, my muse and who encouraged me to write this

***

You stared out the bedroom window. It was a cloudless night, and the entire room was illuminated by the moonlight. Typically, you would've been asleep hours ago. But not tonight.

Carwood always had nights like these, and ever since you moved in with him, there were always nights where he'd be tossing and turning, waking you up with his nightmares. He would always tell you that he dreamt of France and Belgium in the morning, and though he would brush it off in the morning, he would always be shaken til the next day.

Turning around, you put your arm over him, snuggling under his arm. That seemed to calm him for a bit, and he stayed asleep, only occasionally twisting and flinching, gripping onto the sheets. You stayed there, holding on to him so tightly, hoping he would feel your touch and calm down. As the sun rose, you fell asleep as well.

It was nearly 9am when you finally woke up, stretching, and you realised the space beside you was empty. Carwood almost always woke you up with kisses in the morning, so this was new. Climbing off the bed, you creeped silently towards the living room, and he was still nowhere to be found. You looked all around the house, but he was nowhere to be found.

The garage, you thought to yourself, and peeked through a small window to see him hunched over a block of wood. Carwood had his arm across his chest, his other hand tapping his chin in concentration. He didn't notice you step outside with him.

Placing a mug of coffee you had made on the table, you asked, "What are you doing?"

"Oh, Y/N," he said, acknowledging you and yet still lost in thought, "When did you wake up?"

"A while ago," you smiled, "I was disappointed when I woke up and my husband was nowhere to be found."

Carwood smiled, pulled you into a tight hug, and planted a kiss on the top of your head. "Aw," he grinned, looking down at you pressed against his chest, "I'll tell him to stay a bit longer in bed the next time I see him." Despite that, his eyes were still sad.

"You okay?" you asked, wrapping your arms around his neck, playing with his hair.

He pulled away quickly, disappointing you a bit, and turned back to the block of wood on the table. "I noticed one of our dining chairs was wobbly," Carwood lifted the block of wood and examined it.

"So," you paused, looking at him skeptically, "You decided to make a new one? Instead of fixing it?"

Carwood hummed in response, not realising the absurdity of his idea. "I'll leave you to it then, I'll make lunch," you furrowed your eyebrows, tiptoed to kiss him on the cheek, and turned to leave.

He didn't come for lunch. As you ate your sandwich, standing by the garage window, you watched him try and figure out what chairs were supposed to look like, a confused look on his face.

Carwood finally came into the house, dragging a wooden chair behind him. He presented it to you while you were making dinner, and you clapped enthusiastically, a wide smile finally plastered on his face.

"What are we gonna do with the wobbly chair?" you asked, pointing at it with your spatula.

"Throw it out, I guess," he said, and you had to stop yourself from laughing as Carwood dragged the perfectly good chair he had decided was wobbly to the backyard.

***

You woke up the next day, a lot earlier this time, and headed downstairs to make breakfast. Carwood was once again nowhere to be seen, and you had your suspicions and wanted to go and check. Peeking through the garage window, you spotted him again, bent over a block of wood. You sighed, shook your head with a smile, and pushed the door open.

"Was another one wobbly?" you asked, and he turned, taking off his goggles.

"No," he said, marvelling at his own work, "But they were all different heights so I decided to make more."

Everyday was the same since then. You would wake up without him, and only see him at dinner, when he came to present you with a new chair. Then a dining chair became a rocking chair, and then it became a whole new table. Soon the entire house was filled with wooden furniture-- You even had to throw away the couch, replacing it with a wooden bench inside your home. Wooden decorations adorned your walls, and you had decided it was getting out of hand.

Creeping up behind him, you wrapped your hands around your husband, hugging him for what felt like the first time in weeks. You realised, suddenly, that he was trembling, and you turned him around to check if he was okay. Lifting off his goggles, you realised he had been crying. His eyes were red, and his nose was all stuffed.

"What's wrong?" you asked, your worry evident on your face, and you wiped his tears away. He wrapped his arms around you tightly in response.

Carwood hugged you again, tighter this time, his face buried in the crook of your neck. He took a few deep breaths to calm him down, and you rubbed his back gently.

"No matter what I do, I still dream about it," he whispered into your hair, and you finally understood why he was tiring himself out with all this work.

Pulling away, you cupped his face in your hands, planting a kiss on his mouth. "That's okay," you reply, kissing him on both cheeks. "Maybe someday," you pause again, kissing him on the tip of his nose, "But until then, I think we need a new side table, don't you think?"

Because it was helping him cope with the realities that he had gone through, and there was definitely nothing wrong with a house made of wood.

Carwood smiled, finally calm, and turned back to the wooden block in front of him. "How many drawers do you want on this one?" he grinned, the first genuine smile in weeks.

***

a/n: i realised the men would be coping in so many different ways, and i found this method beautiful and also absolutely wholesome.

i hope you enjoy this one! thank you for reading, and as always, check out @Angelica_writes_'s writing. she's amazing!

with love,

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