A/N: Aww it's literally Mama Lip!
"Lip, are you planning on coming down anytime soon?"
No answer.
"Don't make me come up there."
Silence.
"Alright, I'm gonna count to three, and I'd better see your ass."
Not even a rustle.
"Fine. Ready or not." Speirs huffed.
The captain gripped the first rough branch, and memories of climbing trees in his childhood flooded his mind. The exhilaration, the anticipation of the view at the top, the feeling of being king of the entire world, all swept through him. His feet shuffled away after his hands, making the leaves tremble ever so slightly. When Speirs looked up, he saw Lipton sitting among the branches, one leg dangling off the edge of a thick limb, staring at the setting sun like he wanted desperately for it to come back, like it was the last time he was going to see it. It was like sadness and hope at the same time. Bittersweet.
Speirs struggled to sit on a branch opposite Lipton, almost falling in the process. Blushing, he righted himself and looked over at his comrade. He seemed to either be ignoring him or in a trance.
"Honey, what are you doing up here?" Speirs asked him; where it was safe to call each other those sweet little names, where the tree would never tell their secrets.
"Watching."
"You sure have a thing for trees, don't you?" Speirs said, reaching up to fiddle with some leaves, so brittle that they crumbled in his fingers. He watched the bits fall, down, down, to blend with the forest floor. Sad, in a way. They should have fallen as leaves. He felt a flash of anger at his actions. It was strange how war makes you so aware of your emotions. You feel things in ways that you never have before. Back home, Speirs would have enjoyed the crunching of the leaves between his fingertips; it would have been a satisfying feeling. Those leaves may have been long dead, but you should respect the dead. Not crumble them into dust. God, he was really going crazy. A rush of wind brought him back to reality. He remembered what he was going to say.
"I mean, like that time you were up in that tree against a German front…I heard about that."
He saw Lipton smile, but he continued to stare out across the battle-torn landscape. Speirs shifted to see if there was something specific that the other man was staring so intently at, but there was nothing. Only the day's end.
"Yeah." Lipton rasped, his voice sounding chalky and dusty. Like he hadn't spoken for years.
Speirs glanced down at Lip's belly. A noticeable bump had formed. It was ironic how his uniform, a symbol of violence and unrest, was covering something so innocent.
Slowly, very slowly, the captain reached over to try to lay a hand on Lip's stomach. Lipton saw what he was trying to do, and just let it happen. He even scooted closer, turning his body slightly. Speirs' hand gently settled, and he huffed in amazement, smiling. Carwood leaned back against the wide tree trunk, and turned to gaze out at the now approaching night. He allowed himself a small grin. High up above the war, the bombs, the bullets, they had their own world. For only a moment. That was all they needed. The three of them.