They had lunch together. Unusual in that, to Tue best of his knowledge, Piers had never seen Chris eat lunch but at one o'clock, on the dot, he'd appeared in the doorway of Piers' office and said, "Come on. Cafeteria has steak on the menu today."

Knowing better than to jinx it with any questions or comments, Piers stood and followed Chris. Nobody paid them any heed. They were just two soldiers of many, filling their bellies with steak and fries for Chris, soup and a chicken sandwich for Piers. They ate mostly in silence, with Chris only breaking it once to ask Piers to pass the salt and when they were done eating, they cleared away their trays and dishes and quietly returned to their own work.

On the Friday of that week, a little after four in the afternoon, Chris once more appeared at the door to Piers' office.

"Beer."

It was a statement, not a question or invitation, and Piers complied, tidying his desk and locking everything up before grabbing his coat and heading out into the civilian world with Chris. The bar they went to was off the main street and quiet and the two men found themselves a cosy spot in the corner, and sat sipping their pints. It was pleasant. There wasn't really any other way of describing it. The conversational tone was light, the topics covered ranging from the predicted storm in the coming week to the best beers they'd ever had. It was meaningless and meaningful at the same time and another first, since Chris had been the one to prompt their socialising.

As forecast, the big storm hit on the following Tuesday, dumping a record amount of snow on the city within a few short hours. The base was closed, with all personnel ordered to go home with warnings to take care. Chris and Piers were amongst the last to leave. Chris snapped that Piers should have been long gone to which Piers gave a half-hearted shrug.

"It's warmer here than at home," he said and went on to relay a tale of woe over how the heating in his apartment building had stopped working a couple of days previously and his landlord was dragging his heels over getting it fixed. Home didn't sound too appealing right at that moment.

"You can crash at my place," Chris replied, surprising Piers with the offer.

"I couldn't impose-"

Cutting him off with, "Do I have to make it an order, soldier?" Chris motioned for Piers to follow and made his way outside. The world was white, blanketed with freshly fallen and inches deep snow. A blizzard raged, obscuring their vision and a cruel wind whipped around their bodies. There was no point in even attempting to drive, Chris grumbled, but luckily he didn't live too far away. Both bundled up against the elements, heavy coats zipped up to their chins, hats, scarves and gloves on, they began the long, tiresome trudge to Chris' place, with thoughts of hot soup and warm drinks keeping them going.

Piers could only remember being this cold once before. Back in Edonia, prior to their fateful mission. An icy wind, similar to the one that buffered them as they walked, had chilled him to the core. Glancing at Chris, he wondered if the captain was having the same sort of recollection. Piers hoped not; it had been a dark time for Chris. In an effort to drive away any gloomy thoughts that might invade the man's thoughts, Piers spoke up.

"When I was a kid," he said, raising his voice above the howl of the wind. "I loved snow. There was this big hill at the back of our house and my dad always took me sledging."

In response, he received only a grunt, but it was acknowledgement that Chris was listening, so he continued.

"The last winter he was alive, I was seventeen and too cool for sledging. It snowed, like this. Really heavy. My school was closed and he was already pretty sick by this point but he said to me, 'One last time?' I couldn't turn down a dying man's wishes so I got him all wrapped up warm, me too, and we headed out. I pulled him up the hill on the sledge and when we got to the top, I squeezed on behind him and down we went. Just the once. That was all he could take."

Smiling at the memory, he could picture it perfectly in his mind.

"That was one of the last happy days we had. Afterwards, we drank cocoa and just chatted about anything that came to mind." A soft sigh left him and was whisked away by the breeze. "I wonder what he'd think of me now."

A hush fell between, with only their heavy breaths and the crunching of snow under their feet penetrating it. Blinking snowflakes out of his eyes, Piers glanced at Chris and was surprised to see a faint but definite smile on his lips. Was he also remembering a happy time with his own father? Piers had no way of knowing without asking and that was something he wouldn't do.

"He'd be proud of you," Chris said, almost startling Piers with his sudden speech. "And rightly so. Just as I am."

There wasn't anything better Chris could have said to him. Nothing else could leave Piers so brimming with happiness. To hear praise from the man he most admired had him feeling like he was walking on air.

No further words passed their lips until they were kicking clumps of snow off their boots at Chris' front door.

"Home at last." A simple phrase but spoken warmly and when the door was closed behind them, shutting the cold out and the heat in, they unwrapped their layers and removed their outerwear. Chris' home was cosy. Typically masculine, there were no unnecessary adornments. Piers liked it for that reason. It was uncluttered but still homey. Chris went straight for the kitchen to brew some coffee and Piers followed behind. Without discussion, they fell into different roles, with Chris making their hot drinks, pepped up with a generous glug of brandy and Piers finding a couple of cans of soup to heat through.

They ate in the kitchen, mopping up their soup with thickly sliced bread before topping up their mugs with more brandy-laced coffee and going through to the living room. Piers sat first, taking his place on the couch, mug held between his hands. Expecting Chris to take the armchair, and keep his distance, Piers shot him a look of surprise when he also lowered himself to sit on the couch. After reaching for the television remote and turning it on, finding a channel to watch and tossing the remote back onto the table, Chris sat back and hooked his arm around the younger man's shoulders, then tugged him close.

"You can stay here tonight. Weather is too bad to send you home."

Piers nodded and sipped his drink. There was little point in arguing and besides, he didn't want to. Finding Chris in a cuddly mood was far too good an opportunity to pass up. He couldn't help the quiet murmur of contentment that accompanied his sigh as he sank against the other man. Warmth, a full belly and the brandied coffees lulled him into a drowsy state.

"Nice, huh?"

Chris sounded as sleepy as Piers felt and despite the background noise of an old World War Two movie playing on the box, they both drifted off into a light snooze and when they awoke, Chris' arm still holding Piers in place and Piers head resting on Chris' chest, the room was growing dark.

"What time is it?" Piers asked, sitting up as much as Chris' embrace would allow.

"Little after four," came the man's deeply rumbling reply. "Sleep well?"

Even though they'd only napped for an hour or so, it had been a quality rest and Piers nodded. Even Chris looked better for it, his features relaxed and very nearly tranquil, but just to be sure:

"Did you?"

There was a pause before Chris answered, during which, Piers held his breath.

"Yeah, I did. Thanks," he replied. With that, he squeezed Piers against his side and rested his chin atop the younger man's head. "I guess dating isn't so bad after all."

Piers opened his mouth to ask since when they were dating when it hit him. Lunch in the canteen. Beers last Friday. Those were Chris' idea of dates. Even inviting Piers home so he didn't have to brave the cold in his apartment. It was sweet. Really, really sweet. But he knew better than to make a fuss about it, so sitting there, with Chris' arm around him, Piers just nodded slowly.

"Yeah, it's not bad at all, Captain."