Imagines. | Band of Brothers [𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗦 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗢𝗣𝗘𝗡]

unfortunate. | ronald speirs

"About what, Captain? If you don't mind me asking." you answered, scooting towards the end of the couch and plopping yourself beside him, leaving a lot of space between the two of you, "I was just gonna go look for food." You lifted your legs, wrapping your arms around your knees.

Ronald abruptly stood, and walked towards the kitchen that stored all the food the company had. He opened up one of the cabinets and turned to you. "What are you hungry for?" he asked, and only now did you realise how different he looked in the dark, lit only by the fire place across the room.

Tired was the first word that came to mind when you saw him, dark circles around his eyes, a sullen look on his face. At first, you couldn't respond, the sadness of whatever he was feeling radiating towards you. You suddenly no longer felt cold.

"Peaches," you whispered when you realised you were staring at him, "Actually anything is fine."

He grabbed a can of peaches from the highest shelf, took out a knife from his pocket and stabbed a hole in the corner. Ronald then opened up the can for you, and grabbed a spoon from the sink. "Don't worry," he said, handing you the food, "I washed the spoon."

You mumbled a quiet thanks and took a spoonful of peaches, feeling a lot better. "What were you thinking about, Captain?" you asked again, chewing on the fruit, "Is something wrong?"

Ronald stared at the flickering fireplace, the flames dancing beneath the red brick. His jaw hardened, and he shook his head. "Nothing," was all he replied, turning to face you, "Just worried about you."

That took you off guard. "I'm fine, Captain," you interjected, nearly choking on your peaches. He quickly put a hand on your back, patting you gently to help the food down.

"You don't look fine," he said, his eyes furrowed, "Eat slower, Y/N." Your arms flopped to your side as your captain, the man nearly every man in Easy feared, the man you were sure all the men respected, took the can gently from your hands and used the spoon to cut the peaches into smaller bites.

You watched him, bewildered, as he handed it back to you and stood to get you some water. He circled the room, looking for his canteen, and upon spotting it, sat back down beside you and put it on the small table beside you. You ate in silence as Ronald watched you, a frown plastered on his face.

"I swear, I'm fine, sir," you said again, though your head hurt like crazy and each breath you took was laboured.

He placed a gentle hand on your forehead and exhaled a sigh. "You're warming up again, hold on," he stood, getting another sheet to wrap around you. He wrapped you so tightly, and grabbed the can of peaches from you. "Lay down," he said, his voice no longer commanding but gentle.

You rested your back on the couch, and he pulled your legs over his lap, making sure you were comfortable. Ronald took a spoonful of peaches, and fed them to you quietly. "I really wish you'd call me Ron when we're alone," he whispered, not looking at you, "This sir business is getting old."

"That's unfortunate," you smiled, copying his response from that afternoon. You swallowed hard, shutting your eyes briefly. "It's kinda fun pretending we aren't a lot closer than everyone thinks."

At that, Ronald shook his head, "Tsk, it's only fun for you because I get all nervous the men might notice." You let out a laugh, but coughed right after, your chest hurting. Ronald's face changed quickly, and he leaned down to give you some water.

Taking a sip, you closed your eyes, the cool water travelling down your throat. Upon opening them, Ronald was staring at you, his eyes filled with something you couldn't place a finger on— Sadness, admiration? You had no clue.

"I just wished everyone could know," he said, his voice quiet. You scooted back up, pulling your legs off of him and tilted your head questioningly, "If I told you something I've been too worried to tell you for so long, would you hate me?"

It was such a childish question to ask, but then you realised he was just 24. Because despite everything war had done to you, you were all still so young. You had heard the stories of how he had killed those soldiers, but no one ever said a word against it, and he never disputed it.

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek and shook your head, "I would never hate you, Ron. No matter what you've done."

He frowned, and shook his head as well, quicker, and you dropped your hand. "No, this isn't about the prisoners," he frowned, "It's something else, something that could change us."

"What is it, Ron?" you asked gently, scooting towards him, hugging the blankets over your shoulders. You saw him struggle with himself, running a hand over his face.

"I'm in love with you, Y/N," Ronald said, "And I'm worried about your health, about the entire company finding out, and about if you don't feel the same way."

You were quiet for a few moments, taking in his words. Looking up at him, he looked like the 24 year old he really was, not some brave captain who had run through enemy lines time and time again— In short, he was afraid. Your face broke out into a smile.

"Well, that's unfortunate," you said again, the words bouncing off the two of you, "Because I might just be able to get rid of one worry of yours."

And with that, you closed the space between you, wrapped your arms tightly around the man who softened around you, and kissed him like your life depended on it.

***

a/n: oh this was so blissful to write. soft!speirs is literally one of my favourite concepts, and i was so excited to tackle this. this has a lot less dialogue and a lot more gentle mannerisms, so i hope it isn't too unbearable to read 😅

i hope you like it! xx

with love, 
𝓖.