The Spirit of the Corps » Band of Brothers

96: In A Romantic Way

Charlie sighed silently and turned to face him in her chair. He was relentless with the flirting tonight. "Mabs hasn't come back from seeing Speirs yet?" she asked, forcing herself to tease, another attempt to redirect him.

Floyd rolled his eyes with a smirk. "Actually, I meant Autumn."

This finally got a genuine smile out of her. "I hate to break it to you, Floyd, but her heart's elsewhere."

"What?!" Floyd exclaimed with a dramatic gasp. "You're kidding." He clasped his hands together and pretended to stab himself in the gut, then grinned as Charlie reached over to stop him, covering his hands with her own and laughing.

"What's the time?" she wondered when her giggles had subsided.

"About 2130, if I had to guess."

"You don't have a watch?"

"What am I, the president?"

Charlie rolled her eyes. "Yes, because only presidents can wear watches."

"I don't see you wearing one."

"My wrists are too dainty for watches," she said without missing a beat. "They're much more suited to pretty bracelets."

"And mine ain't?"

"Nothing about you is dainty, Floyd."

"I'm wounded," he said in a deadpan. "You've wounded me."

"You'll live."

He shot her a grin and her heartbeat faltered.

Oh, her heart. How it ached to be near him. It was thumping erratically in her chest, so hard she thought that if she looked down she'd see it pulsing beneath her uniform. It beat like it was trying to escape her body and get to him, escape this cage that refused to give it over to him to do what he willed with it.

Willing such thoughts away, Charlie sighed and pushed herself to her feet. The sky was more darkness than it was sunset by now, and she had seen all she'd wanted to. "I suppose we should be getting down to the party."

"Don't sound so excited about it," Floyd commented as he, too, rose from his chair.

Charlie smiled as she led him inside, trusting him to shut and lock the balcony doors behind him, which he did.

"I just have to do my lipstick," she informed him over her shoulder, heading into the bathroom where her makeup was still sitting on the side. "Do you mind waiting?"

Floyd called back something muffled which she took as an assurance that he didn't, and so she uncapped her lipstick and leaned over the sink to apply it to her lips.

It felt like such a long time since she'd worn makeup. Charlie almost didn't recognise herself with it on, now, when once she'd worn it everyday. She left her freckles uncovered, unlike how she had sometimes worn her makeup back in Aldbourne, and felt a lot more like herself with them skittering across her nose and cheeks, but the definition around her eyes made them look so much brighter. She hadn't seen herself look put together in so long. No ODs, hair done, makeup on. She felt like her old self, as she'd been the day she'd left home, before the war had thrown her around like a sack of garbage.

Charlie pulled her mind away from all of that and focused on colouring her lips the bright victory red she'd chosen before she'd left home for England. Victory red seemed even more apt now than it had back then, now that they'd finally accomplished what had once seemed truly impossible; if ever there was a day to wear it then it was this, the official VE Day.

In her periphery, Charlie saw Floyd come to lean in the doorway and watch her. He crossed his arms, unabashed in his staring, and though she tried desperately not to smile, both to prevent messing up her lipstick and so that he wouldn't notice, the corners of her mouth kept quirking up every time she caught a glimpse of him.