Imagines. | Band of Brothers [𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡]

365 days. | joe liebgott

based on a prompt by tumblr user
write-it-motherfuckers.

***

"Goddamn Joe," You cursed, pulling the sleeves of your robe over your bare arms as you stomped down your driveway towards his parked cab. "It's nearly 2am, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" hissing, you leaned down to face Joseph Liebgott, your best friend, and the biggest thorn in your side. He had his head peeking out from the driver side of his cab.

Flicking away his cigarette butt, the young man shot you a wink, "You look lovely as always, sweetheart. Except for that frown. You comin' or what?"

Irritated, you huffed and climbed into the passenger seat of his beat-up cab. You and Joe have known each other since you both had training wheels on your bikes. Before he left for Toccoa, the two of you had spent nearly every evening together, driving around in his cab together, talking about what you'd do to get out of San Francisco. Since he'd be back, he tried his best to bring everything back to normal. Except, you were both glad to still be in San Francisco, and nothing was normal.

"You can't be honking your horn at 2am," you exclaimed, hitting his arm gently, "Ma's asleep!" Joe simply waved this off as you put on your seatbelt instinctively, resting yourself comfortably in your seat for the second time that night. "What do you want?" you looked at him, expecting him to turn off the engine. Instead, he pulled out of your driveway.

"Just calm down alright? I couldn't sleep." Throwing you yet another wink, he reached into the backseat and handed you a bag of chips. "Besides, I got you food. Now quiet or you'll wake the whole town up with your yapping."

"You were literally blasti-"

"Hey! What'd I say? Eat your chips ma'am." Joe scolded, nudging your chin with his finger, "Attitude."

...

You both drove in silence, the only sound coming from your grumpy munching. Joe had the windows down, the cold breeze making you even grumpier that he had called you out in nothing but your robe and nightgown. Your childhood friend had been back for awhile— Back living across the street, and back driving his cab around town, cheating sailors out of their money. That also meant he was back tormenting you nearly every minute of his spare time. Not that you minded. You missed him while he was gone, and looked forward to letters he would send you every now and then.

You watched him now, how his hands gripped the wheel of his car and skillfully maneuvered it up the hill you both sat on every now and then whenever he couldn't sleep. Joe was still the boy you knew from next door, except he wasn't anymore. His eyes still crinkled the same way when he laughed, and his lips still curved into a lopsided smirk whenever he was up to no good. Except, Joe looked older now. Much, much older now. Though he stood taller, his chest broader, he had wrinkles in places age often left untouched.

Staring at him, you never realized he had parked. With a wave of his hand, he asked you to follow him as he climbed out of his seat. As Joe settled onto the roof of his car, patting his side for you to come join him, you could see tonight was different. Different from all the other times he had dragged you out on this hill overlooking San Francisco.

"I couldn't sleep," he said, his voice quiet. "I figured maybe you couldn't sleep too."

You let out a gentle laugh, bumping your shoulder with his, "I was very much asleep, Joe. But thanks for thinking about me." Joe gave you a soft smile that never reached his eyes.

"Ya know, this time last year, I stepped foot into Bastogne," he whispered, closing his eyes with a deep sigh, "Sometimes, when its way too quiet, I close my eyes and I still hear them— Them mortars blasting the trees above us." Joe tried to laugh to lighten the conversation but couldn't. "Now, a year later, and the whole world seems too quiet for me." His hands shaking, Joe brought another cigarette up to his lips. He tried to light his cigarette, but when his lighter failed to produce a steady flame, he angrily tossed the cigarette to the ground.

Joe never talked about the war, and any mention of it would make his smile dissipate. You never asked, because as much as his face annoyed you, you wanted nothing more than to see him smile. But again, tonight was going to be different.

He turned to you, his voice louder this time, "It's just weird. I wake up and my bed is warm, I take showers, I go down to my cab and I can see you through your kitchen window." Taking your hand and squeezing it, he closed his eyes again. "I see you instead of darkness— Instead of the flashing I had to pretend were fireworks. I am where I begged to be, and yet I still hear them. Sometimes they're so much louder than the traffic downtown."

"Joseph," you whispered, cupping his face, "Tell me your most precious memory." You wiped away a tear from his cheek that had managed to slip out.

Joe opened his eyes, gripping the hand you had on his cheek, "When the train stopped at the station and I saw you, in that yellow summer dress waiting for me. You waited for me to come back." His eyes softened, "I knew I loved you then, and all this time I was just hoping to see you through your kitchen window again."

Your breath hitched, eyes brimming with tears. "I meant of the boys, silly," you whispered, gently pressing your lips onto his. The two of you sat there, arms around each other, hearts swelling with unexplainable love that grew not only through time but also through distance. You knew you would never understand what he went through, you would never hear what he heard when you closed your eyes, and you would never be able to feel what he had felt, freezing in a foxhole in that forest. All you knew was that he was here. Joseph Liebgott was alive, and he was here in your arms.

Pulling apart and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, Joe whispered, a gentle smile playing on his face, "Tell me your most precious memory."

"Just now. That was the first time I've seen a real Joe Liebgott smile in a long time."

***

a/n: this is the first thing i've written in over four years and it just has to be for good ol' joe liebgott. i posted this on my tumblr first, and then on here in hopes that i might get feedback or something.

if you've made it to the end without cringing at my writing, thank you! i hope you liked it.

with love,
𝓖.