The Spirit of the Corps » Band of Brothers

51: Dutch Terms of Endearment

"Who knows?" Charlie said without looking up from the piece of hay between her fingers. "I don't think anyone knows except Henry, at this point."

"I just can't imagine those two together," Autumn mused. She wore an amused smile, hinting that she was attempting to imagine Henry and Malark together and was thoroughly entertained by whatever she was seeing. "I know they've been a couple before but I just don't know how."

"Opposites attract and all that," Alex supplied.

Skip just shrugged as he lit his own cigarette.

At that moment, First Platoon entered the barn, which prompted Malarkey to return and flop down on his back with a loud huff. First's arrival meant Second's imminent deployment to a patrol, which Malark had clearly realised on his way to the field hospital.

For their part, Skip and Alex groaned; none of the men liked going out on patrols, especially with this much open territory to cover. For her part, Charlie also felt like flopping down on her back and huffing loudly. Floyd was in First, and he'd been trying to get her attention just as avidly as she'd been trying to avoid him. Predictably, he made a beeline for her the moment he realised she was there.

"Freckles!"

Charlie didn't look up to greet him immediately. Instead, she remained as she was, looking down at her hands, until he repeated the call of her nickname. It was when he slowed to a stop outside the circle the group had formed that she finally glanced up at him. "Hi, Floyd."

"Can I talk to you for a second?"

Charlie hesitated before reluctantly giving a stiff nod and climbing to her feet, picking up her helmet on her way. 

The chatter from inside the barn faded the moment Charlie and Floyd were outside and the door was shut behind them. Instantly, Charlie felt on edge. She hadn't been alone with Floyd since the night she'd found out about James and she still wasn't properly sure how to interact with him.

He saved her from having to think up something to say, however, by gesturing to his right and starting off ahead of her, leaving her to trail behind.

As they traipsed through the grass a gentle breeze tickled Charlie's cheeks and brushed the hair back from her face. She'd put her helmet on upon getting outside and now very much longed to take it off; the top of her head was sweaty and her hair was oily as the metal of the helmet locked the heat in. She wanted a shower more badly than she could ever remember wanting one, even more badly than she had in Normandy, but she pushed the thought aside; they wouldn't be getting access to showers anytime soon, so it was better not to think about it. Thinking about how dirty she was only made her itchier.

Daytime was fading to evening, the sky overhead gradually morphing from blue to orange to a line of pink just beginning to appear on the horizon. Charlie kept her eyes on the sliver of pink she could see at the bottom of the sky, struck by its beauty, and didn't realise Floyd had come to a stop until she almost ran into him and he had to grab onto her arms to halt her.

"Sorry," she said, blushing as she looked away. Thoughts of the last time those hands had touched her raced through her head; how gentle they'd been in her hair, how much comfort they'd brought, the heat that had raced through her along the path he paved down her arms.

Another unhealthy thought to dispose of until later.

"I want to show you something," Floyd said, letting his hands fall from her arms.

Charlie nodded. "Okay."

"In here." He inclined his head in the direction of the door to an old, decrepit farmhouse and, when she nodded her assent, turned and led her in.