I apologize in advance if my French is incorrect. Unfortunately, I do not speak French and so I used Google Translate instead.
While the fire crackled and snapped up the dry logs, the men put out their hands to its heat. A chilly wind puffed through the circle of bodies, raising gooseflesh across necks. The troops grumbled and pulled their coat collars higher as quickly as they could and returned their outstretched palms to the orange blaze.
"It's damn cold tonight," Morita declared.
"It always is," Falsworth countered.
"I hate Europe," Bucky complained, blowing moist breath through his clammy fingers and rubbing them furiously to garner warmth from the ensuing friction.
"Nothing makes a man crave his home more than being away from it." Dugan sagely tipped his head, bowler hat rustling over the bristles of red hair perched on his skull.
"Amen," Jones seconded quietly.
"Can't wait to see my boys again." Wistfully sipping from a tin cup of rationed coffee, Dugan stared up at the pine needles blocking the stars and imagined the faces of his children.
"How old?" Steve questioned softly.
"Got one's that nine and one that's just turned twelve," Dugan replied, eyes floating down to rest on his captain. "I suppose John's almost a man now," he added thoughtfully.
A heaviness settled on the soldiers as they strove to ignore the irrefutable fact that war made adults out of all children.
"He's the man of the house, now that I'm away," Dugan revealed, rubbing at the mustache dwarfing his lips. "Or, man of the farm I should say," he chuckled to himself.
Dernier glanced up then. "Ma soeur s'occupe de la ferme en mon absence," he excitedly chattered.
The other men looked to Jones for the translation.
"He says his sister is taking care of their farm while he's away," Jones supplied.
"A farm, eh?" Dugan repeated, a companionable twinkle in his gaze.
"Correcte, monsieur," Dernier nodded enthusiastically.
"Well, I don't have a farm, but I have got the missus waiting for me back in Sheffield," Falsworth inserted, leaning back and smiling with the thought.
"How about you, Jones?" Steve added another stick to the inferno and watched the shadows mingle on the private's face.
"She's not mine yet, sir." Jones flashed white teeth. "But as soon as this war's over, I'm going home and I'm going to put a ring on her finger." He grinned again. "She promised she'd wait."
A hand slunk through the night air as Morita raised his right forearm. "Same."
"Marriage is the greatest blessing and the worst trial a man can have," Dugan asserted.
Falsworth laughed and turned to Bucky. "All right, Barnes, we've all said our bit. Now it's your turn."
"Turn for what?" Bucky stalled.
"Tell us about the family you have waiting," Dugan answered cheerily.
"You got a girl?" Morita pressed.
"Or maybe a mother?" Jones suggested.
"Soeur?" Dernier queried.
"Aw, hell." Bucky cut off their well meaning prompts and tossed a twig onto the burning embers. He glanced at the curious faces around him. Jerking his head to indicate the captain beside him, Bucky mumbled. "He's the only family I've got."
Surprise rippled through the others.
"Not even a pair of grandparents depending on your army wages?" Falsworth posed one more question.
Bucky shook his head. "Nah, Steve's the only family I've ever had." Twisting to the side, he caught the gaze of the captain, who quickly averted his eyes while a blush crept over his cheeks. "Only family I ever needed," Bucky added softly.
Shifting self-consciously, Steve shyly dug through the dirt with the broken end of an abandoned stick. As the other men moved on to other topics of conversation, Steve finally chanced a glance at Bucky. With a toothless smile straddling the line between rueful and sincere, Bucky edged closer to him.
"It's true," Bucky whispered conspiratorially, nudging Steve's knee.
Not knowing what else to do with his pleased embarrassment, Steve settled for clapping a hand against Bucky's shoulder and squeezing it firmly.