The Spirit of the Corps » Band of Brothers

92: Street Parties for Less

When everyone got so drunk they had to trek back down the mountain to go to bed, Charlie held on tight to Floyd's hand. She wasn't sure when she'd grabbed it, or whether it had been him who'd grabbed hers, even, but she held on tight nonetheless. And as they walked they swung their clasped hands between them, as though it was the most natural thing in the world that they would walk down the street looking like a couple.

It was dark outside, but the ghosts didn't reach Charlie here. Nothing did. She was stuck in a world of her own, her eyes glazed over and bright with the influence of alcohol, and the people around her were much the same.

Boo hadn't drunk much because she didn't like alcohol, but while George usually stayed away from it when he was around her, today she'd encouraged him to let loose like his friends. She led him ahead of the group to get him into bed as soon as she could, smiling fondly as he acted out and ramped up even his usual level of extraversion. The pair of them turned off from the main street to head to whichever house George was billeted in, and the others called loud, giggly goodbyes out to them.

Henry and Don split off from the group a short while later to head to wherever Don was billeted, and those remaining called out their goodbyes again. Then the same was done for Autumn and Lieb, who were usually so subtle and tonight were, simply, not - whether they were just hooking up or actually together, Charlie wasn't sure, but she'd never seen Autumn look at anybody the way she looked at Lieb - and Mabs raced ahead to go and 'talk to someone about something'.

Floyd gave Charlie a meaningful look as Mabs disappeared in the direction the hotel. "Speirs," he said.

Charlie laughed, nodding. "I see it now."

The two of them pushed into the house Charlie had picked, and she thought distantly that it was a shame everyone else had gone to the men's various billets - because weren't they sharing with other men? - when there was a whole lovely house here they could have gone to. But, then again, she supposed there were more than enough empty houses in town for the others to spend the night in. Every man in the company could have had his own house if he wanted, since there were no people to clear out of them. They had an entire town at their disposal.

"Come look at my balcony," Charlie implored Floyd as they headed clumsily up the stairs. "It's pink and it looks like it's made of lace and it looks out on the mountains!"

Floyd followed closely behind her, just as drunk but not quite as clumsy, to make sure she didn't fall. He smiled as he watched her run to open the door to her room, then swore as he watched her trip over the bag she'd forgotten she'd left in the doorway.

"Oh no," she lamented, giggling from where she lay sprawled across the floor. "And I was doing so well, too!"

Floyd laughed lightly and bent down to help her up. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he lifted her up into his arms. She tucked her face into his neck and wrapped her legs around his waist, as easily as if they'd done this a million times before, and he carried her out onto the balcony she'd wanted to show him. Neither of them thought a thing of it in their drunken states.

"Did you hurt yourself?" he asked as he sat in the chair out there and let her curl up in his lap.

"No," Charlie said. She wasn't feeling any pain at the moment but she would, come morning. But that was a problem for tomorrow. She twisted in his lap to look out over the balcony railing. "Isn't it pretty out here?"

"Beautiful," Floyd agreed.

"I'd love to live in a house like this."

"I bet," he said. And though he thought the house was horrible - frilly and overly flowery and altogether just not his idea of well-decorated - he thought that he would love to live in a house like this, too, just so he could be surrounded by things that reminded him of her.