Christmas in the Trenches
Bucky was a little unsure how he managed to end up stuck in front of a microphone for Tony’s latest hairbrained scheme. He was pretty sure he could blame Steve for this one. Yeah, he’d been blaming Steve for most of the dubious positions he’d found himself in over the last eighty-odd years, but he was pretty sure he could safely blame this one on Steve and his stupid puppy dog eyes of righteousness.
“I thought this was supposed to be a feel-good Christmas album,” he grumbled between one of their many takes. He’d honestly lost count somewhere around eight and it felt like he’d sung this song about a hundred times. In reality it probably wasn’t more than fifteen, but he wasn’t going to admit that out loud. “Why’re we singing this gloomy old thing?”
“It’s important to remember what’s been sacrificed to keep that light burning in the darkness. To remind ourselves that there can be peace on earth, but it doesn’t mean we don’t have to work for it,” Steve told him. “Besides, ‘this curious and unlikely band of men’ describes us pretty well, don’t you think?”
Bucky cocked his head, thoughtful. “Now or then, you mean?”
“Either works, but I was thinking more then...” Steve laughed. “Remember that time Dernier tried making a Christmas goose?”
“Oh my god, the one he drowned in whiskey and claimed was a traditional family recipe?”
“Poor Dernier probably never cooked a goose before in his life,” Steve said, shaking his head. “And he was cooking it in that rickety old stewpot over the campfire while we all watched him like hungry jackals.”
Bucky smiled and shook his head. Their resemblance to a pack of hungry jackals was probably more accurate than he cared to admit. “I still don’t know how he managed to set the thing on fire, though. One minute it’s bubbling along fine, and the next minute WHOOSH and Dernier’s got no eyebrows left and Gabe is screaming about the goose and Mortia’s throwing a bucket of water over everything.”
“Well, at least the goose wasn’t dry,” Steve said, doing his best to keep a straight face.
“You are a terrible human being,” Bucky informed him. “Simply terrible. Can we get back to finishing this dismal thing?”
“It’s inspirational!” Steve protested, but he went back to his microphone and motioned to the robots to start up the accompaniment. He wasn’t entirely sure where DUMMY had gotten a guitar, but he wasn’t going to question it.
“Hey Steve?” Bucky interrupted a few takes later, sounding a little strangled. “Umm… are you… are you sure this song is a good idea? It’s just… I mean, ‘who’s family have I fixed within my sights’? How… how is Tony okay with us singing this? How is he okay with me singing this?”
Steve looked away guiltily.
“Are you kidding me? He doesn’t know?” Bucky exploded. “Stevie, he’s gonna kill us! I’m not even joking. Do you not remember what happened last time?” Steve may have blocked out Tony’s reaction to finding out Bucky had killed his parents, but Bucky sure hadn’t.
“I’m hoping it’ll be cathartic,” Steve mumbled, looking at his feet. “And it’s a good song. It’s a hopeful song.” He looked up at Bucky and jutted out his chin. “It’s a song of remembrance and Tony will be fine with it. He said I could pick whatever song I wanted for the charity album and this is the song I want.”
“It was Christmas in the trenches where the frost so bitter hung.
The frozen fields of France were warmed as songs of peace were sung.
For the secrets kept between us to exact the work of war,
Have been crumbled and laid bare for ever more.
My name is Steven Rogers, and it’s Brooklyn where I dwell.
Each Christmas come since World War Two I’ve learned its lessons well.
That our fear and our resentment have no place inside our heart,
That it’s only through forgiveness with which true healing can start.
That the ones who call the shots won’t be among the dead and lame,
And be it armored suit or rifle we’re the same.”