December 24, 1943
Steve had never liked winter. He had nearly always been ill. Now with the serum pumping through his veins the cold didn't bother him like it had. All around him, the Howling Commandos were huddled up, conversing about this and that in the light of a fire. Steve prayed the enemy wouldn't attack. They all knew that if the Axis powers or Hydra attacked, their break would be over.
Bucky shifted next to him, squirming closer and grumbling to himself. Steve hid a smile. It had been a long time since Bucky had been small enough to huddle into his side like this. Not that Buck remembered. But that was okay. Steve had made his peace with being small long ago; even if it had frustrated him to no end that he couldn't do the things healthier men could. It had never stopped him from trying. And it certainly didn't mean that now since he was bigger and stronger physically he wasn't pleased to be taking care of his best friend for a change.
"How'd you manage to get us Christmas off anyway, punk? Throwing your weight around?"
"Nah, I just asked."
"Seriously? You just asked Colonel Scrooge and he said yes?"
"Yep."
"Huh. So does that mean you're gonna recite the Christmas story like always?"
Steve ignored the sarcasm. Here amidst this brutal war, the birth of the King of Kings and Prince of Peace seemed little more than a fairytale. Except that made it even more precious. And Buck would never ask, but Steve had been telling the Christmas story to him since they were children.
He began, "For unto us a Child is born, unto us a Son is given; and the government shall be on His shoulders."
If Bucky slowly relaxed, well, Steve wouldn't say anything.
Isaiah 9:6
For unto us a Child is born,
Unto us a Son is given;
And the government will be upon His shoulder.
And His name will be called
Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.
Merry Christmas! :D