“Why are your fingers purple?”

The question made Ben look down and realize for the first time that the tips of his fingers were in fact purple. He felt himself flush in embarrassment, it certainly wasn’t very becoming of an officer. “It must be from the berries with breakfast,” he said with a shrug.

That seemed to bother Hamilton more than the stains. “What berries?”

“The blackberries.”

“Where did you get blackberries?”

“My breakfast plate. Did you not get any?”

“No!” Hamilton frowned, clearly thinking he’d been robbed of delicious berries. Ben supposed he would have that reaction too. They were perfectly ripe, balanced between sweet and tart.

Ben shrugged again, it was odd that he would get something and Hamilton not, though.

“Someone likes you more than me,” Hamilton grumbled. And suddenly it made sense.

Caleb, as he did most mornings, had brought him his breakfast. Caleb had better things to be doing but he claimed it was so that he could sneak a bit off of Ben’s plate on the way to his tent and Ben, nor anyone else, ever had the energy to press the matter. It was nice and it usually meant Caleb would hang around for at least a little while while Ben ate. And Caleb had just returned from his last run to Setauket the day before; he must have seen some on the way back.

That night when Caleb brought his plate with was with the same flippant grin he did everything with. “Your dinner, Major Tallmadge.” He made the rank sound like a joke.

“Thank you, Lieutenant Brewster,” Ben said with just as much laughter in his voice. There was a chunk of what looked to be rabbit meat, beans, bread, and a much smaller bit of some other type of meat that Ben couldn't immediately place. “Is everyone eating as well as me tonight?” he asked, trying to make it sound like a joke.

Caleb had known him too long and saw straight through him. “I’m sure General Washington is eating just fine if that’s what you’re worried about,” Caleb said with a laugh. Unfortunately for Caleb, Ben knew him just as well.

“Why did I have berries this morning with my breakfast and Hamilton didn’t?”

Caleb shrugged. “Mice?”

“Really?” he tried to make his disappointment clear in his voice. “I have a different theory.”

“Don’t you always?”

“Are you bringing me extra food?”

Caleb just settled more comfortably on the bed, as if in defiance.

“Caleb!”

Caleb just waved his hand and rolled his eyes. “I’m not stealing from anyone. Anyone we care about anyway.”

“I don’t need you giving me special treatment. I can survive on what everyone else gets,” Ben scolded, hoping he sounded angry. The truth was he was touched and a little bit pleased that Caleb had cared that much. But it wasn’t fair and they both knew it.

“I don’t know that you would. Too skinny. Always have been,” Caleb said shaking his head.

“It’s not fair to the other men.”

“Sod the other men. I’m the one riding out. I have the opportunity to get food from somewhere the army hasn’t picked clean and I take it. You ain’t gonna make me feel bad about it.” Caleb was staring at him like Ben was the dumbest man on Earth but Ben just stared back. It was more than a little surprising to hear Caleb say that. Of the two of them, Caleb was the one who spent the most time with them, he was the one with friends everywhere they turned. He was the one that people liked and who liked people in return.

Ben tried a different tactic. “It’s taking time out of your trips. Unnecessarily.”

“I’m not you. It doesn't take me an hour to set up a trap. Or skin a fuckin’ rabbit. Now stop throwing your tantrum and eat your damn dinner. I worked hard for it.”

Ben felt himself flush with anger and embarrassment. He didn’t need Caleb to baby him or the lecture about Ben’s admittedly poor survival skills.

He set aside his plate and stood.

“Oh? Are you going to fight me about it now?” Caleb asked, looking up at him with a grin.

“What I’m doing is ordering you to stop.”

“And I’m saying no.”

Ben clenched his jaw.

“Go ahead. Take it to Washington. See if he actually wants to bother with court marshaling me for disobeying this order. Or ask Hamilton. See what he thinks. Though he might be more willing to do it since you go berries and he didn’t.”

“I’m not joking, Brewster.”

Caleb stood, some of the humor having left him. “Neither am I.”

Ben sighed. He didn’t want to fight his friend, but he was willing to do it. “Brewster -”

“If it makes you feel better I share the bread with the other men who are around when it’s done.”

“The bread too?”

“Every once in a while I turn a pretty profit on the London trade and I buy some flour. Half the loaf for me and you, half they split amongst themselves,” Caleb explained. It was probably half the reason he had as many friends around camp as he did.

“Why not share the rest with them? I get the feeling you stretch what you catch a few days on just the two of us.”

Caleb smiled softly, shaking his head. “The rest of them aren’t you.”

Ben’s heart gave a hard thud. He took a step back and turned to his dinner finally. “You’re insufferable.”

“You got a funny way of pronouncing 'charming' and 'better friend than you deserve.'” Caleb laughed and sat back on the bed.

Ben just rolled his eyes and ate his dinner.