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The problem was Dugan.
Well, more like the problem was that it had been all too long since any of the Commandos had seen any of the good stuff. There'd been nothing to drink for months but what Dernier cooked up in his portable still. That stuff was raw and biting, good for forgetting all your problems if you drank it, or for causing some serious problems if you lit it on fire and threw it at the enemy.
This stuff went down smooth. Maybe a little too smooth, because there they were, getting pie-eyed in a muddy forest outside a village in occupied France. The Captain was on sentry duty; the rest of them hunkered down around a small fire and applied themselves to the task at hand.
Morita took a swig and passed the bottle off. "All right, I'll bite. How much of our cigarette rations did you trade for this fancy booze?"
Barnes smirked, eyes hooded against the firelight. "Nothin'. It was a gift."
Dugan scoffed. "Now that I don't believe. Here we are, middle o' war-torn France, Nazis crawling everywhere, and some local just gives you a nice bottle of cognac?" He took a long pull, then held the bottle up to the light to examine it. The liquor gleamed deep amber beneath the glass. "Look at that, it's even got a year on it."
Barnes' smirk only intensified. "She was real grateful."
Falsworth looked up from his contemplation of the flames. "She?"
"You shoulda seen it," Jones chuckled. "You know Sarge only knows a few words of French, but seems he can flirt in any language. One pretty smile and a look into those baby blues..."
Dernier said something in slightly slurred French that made Gabe slap his thigh with amusement. He took the bottle when Dum Dum offered it, but was grinning almost too hard to drink.
"What?" Morita wanted to know.
"He says there's nobody Sarge can't charm. Says maybe we should try having him sweet talk Hitler." Jones tipped the bottle at Dernier in salute, then passed it to the Frenchman.
"Hell, mighta worked better than having Cap punch him all those times," muttered Dugan.
"Surely Sergeant Barnes isn't charming as all that," Falsworth said, his voice carefully casual. "There must be someone his wiles won't affect."
"Nope," Morita decided. "There's a trail of broken hearts all the way across Europe. It's a problem."
The bottle had made its way back around to Dugan, though the drink was already doing its work. Hie eyes were slightly glazed as he said, "Bet he can't charm the Cap." He popped the "p" at the end of the sentence hard enough that Dernier jumped.
Silence reigned through the clearing, the only sounds the flames crackling, some far-off nightbird singing. Then Gabe said, "I'd like to see that."
"Oui," nodded Dernier, and then kept on nodding.
Morita narrowed his eyes at Barnes. "Whaddya say, Sarge? Gonna prove Dum Dum wrong?"
Barnes held his hand out for the bottle, took a decent gulp. "Name your stakes."
The Commandos exchanged glances, waiting to see who would pony up. Finally, Dum Dum reached into his boot. "Got a KA-BAR," he said, tossing the knife into the middle of the circle, near the fire. "Won it off a soldier who won it off a Marine last time he was stateside. Real handy knife."
Barnes raised his eyebrows, expressing nothing more than polite interest.
Gabe reached into a pocket and reluctantly pulled out half a Hershey's bar. Dugan whistled; Barnes idly inspected his fingernails.
Finally, Dernier rummaged in his pack for a moment, then tossed out his prize: a single item with a distinctive torchlike shape and a ring at one end.
Morita looked impressed. "That's a HYDRA grenade! How long you been carrying that around?"
Dernier shrugged.
Barnes pursed his lips. "And if I lose? What's the forfeit?"
"Wingman," Jones said immediately. "You charm on our behalf for a change."
Barnes smirked again, and took another long swallow. "Hope you boys enjoy being lonely."
"Well," said Falsworth, climbing to his feet and dusting off his trousers. "I daresay it's time I relieved the Captain's watch."
——
The problem was it wasn't all that easy to charm someone if you were kinda tipsy, your audience was very well-oiled, and your target was stone-cold sober.
Steve walked back into the ring of firelight and sat down, holding his hands out to the flames. "Having a good time, I see," he said, nodding at Dernier, who was giggling softly.
Morita smiled easily at his CO. "You know us."
Steve returned his grin. "That's the problem."
Bucky stood up then, still steady on his feet, and circled the fire to sit down next to his Captain. He offered the bottle, and Steve took it, but only drank a small sip.
Dugan made a sound of disgust.
"Hey," Steve protested, "someone's got to stay alert."
Dum Dum rolled his eyes and kicked Barnes unsubtly in the foot.
Bucky cleared his throat. "So, Cap — I've got a problem." He pitched his voice low, a little breathy.
"Yeah, Buck?" Steve turned to face Bucky, concern creasing his brow. "What's that?"
Dernier giggled.
"I'm cold." Bucky delivered the line with earnest blue eyes ducked beneath long dark lashes. "Just can't seem to get warm."
Steve looked dryly amused. "You tried sitting closer to the fire?"
"Well yeah, but —" Bucky bit his lip. "Don't you think you could help?"
The Commandos watched spellbound as Steve threw an arm around Bucky's shoulders and pulled him close.
"That better?"
Bucky actually sighed a little, and snuggled into Steve's side. Morita and Gabe goggled silently.
"Much better," Bucky said. "Except —"
"What?" Steve asked, his face only inches from Bucky's.
"My hands," said Bucky. "They're freezing." He made big doe eyes at Steve, and held his hands out toward the fire.
Steve seemed to be suppressing a smile, but he reached out and chafed Bucky's hands between his own. "That better?" he asked again, without letting go.
"Yeah," Bucky breathed, his chin tilted up and his lips parted.
Almost unconsciously, Steve swayed toward him.
Dum Dum muffled a groan in his hands.
Bucky licked his lips. "Thanks," he started to say —
— but Steve fell into his kiss before the word was out.
"What," said Gabe.
Morita snorted. "Saw that coming."
Dernier continued giggling.
Steve and Bucky were still kissing, both of Steve's hands on Bucky's face and one of Bucky's arms thrown around Steve's neck. There was definitely tongue involved. Steve made a little whimpering sound and pulled Bucky halfway into his lap.
Dugan made a little whimpering sound, too. "My eyes," he wailed. "Barnes, if you're trying to make us all blind, at least have the decency to pass off the booze."
Without opening his eyes or taking his mouth off Steve's, Bucky patted the ground with his free hand until he located the bottle, thankfully unspilled. He held it out blindly, and Dum Dum reached for it like a dying man.
He took a very long swallow, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and glared balefully at his beautiful knife, now forfeit, and his chain of command, currently fraternizing with enthusiasm. "I'm hittin' the sack," he said, and marched off into the dark, taking the bottle with him.
The other three Commandos also faded quietly from the circle of firelight.
"Definitely saw that coming," said Morita, as they set out their bedrolls, and then, "Oof," as Gabe socked him.
Dernier curled up in his blanket, chortling.
Back at the campfire, Bucky let out a filthy moan.
——
Once he was certain no one was listening, Steve put his lips right against Bucky's ear. "Scamming your fellow soldiers, Sergeant?" he breathed. He ran his tongue around the sensitive outer shell. "Not very upstanding of you."
"I'm real upstanding," Bucky panted. "Lemme show you."
Steve bit his earlobe in rebuke.
"Ah! Fine, I'll cut you in for half," Bucky muttered, and started kissing his way down Steve's neck. "You can — oh! — you can have the grenade."
Steve tilted his head to give Bucky better access. "I got an idea about that chocolate."
——
Much later:
"We did not think this through," grumbled Dum Dum as he attempted to muffle his ears beneath his pack.
"We?" Morita hissed from the next bedroll over. "This current problem is all you, asshole. Real funny."
"Barnes was just supposed to ask if it hurt when he fell from heaven, or some shit, not —" Dugan made an inarticulate sound of despair.
"Which is why he's the charmer and not you," Morita finished. "Shut the hell up and go to sleep."
"I'm trying," Dum Dum growled.
Dernier mumbled something extremely foul in sleep-garbled French.
"I hate you all," Gabe declared to the world at large.
Somewhere close by, a different pair of nightbirds sang.