For King And Country (not mine)

Early 1940

"William," The Captain murmured, reluctantly lifting his head from where it was resting in the crook of Havers' neck.

Havers made a soft noise from beside him, arm tightening around his shoulders to keep him close.

"We should go back. The sirens have stopped."

"I'm far too tired to move." Havers yawned. "How long have we been here?"

The Captain looked at his stopwatch. "Just over two hours."

"Goodness," Havers said. "I suppose you're right."

They extracted themselves from each other, straightening their uniforms and slowly trekking back to the house.

The space between them carried the heaviness of what had happened during the evening.

Rushed, desperate kisses like they were dying men clinging to their wives before heading abroad to fight, turning into slow, tende endearments often only shared by people who knew each other in some deep way.
And slowly, the kisses had stopped, becoming sitting on the bench together, pressed against one another tightly.

It seemed once they had taken this plunge, they could no longer bear to be parted.

But now, the fear and the alcohol had worn off and they seemed to be unclear on what to do.

In hindsight, this had been a mistake and an oversight on both of their parts, something that had fizzled out as soon as it had begun.

They wouldn't talk about this, the Captain knew. They couldn't.

Not only was it already dangerous enough as it was, but this could affect everything they were doing at the house. They were here for a reason. Neither of them could afford to be distracted.

But how was the Captain supposed to carry on now?

How was he supposed to look Havers in the eye?

How could they both know that something wouldn't show in their faces when the others returned?
How could they be sure that Smith and Reed would not guess and report them immediately?

And the Captain found that he wanted Havers to say something first. He couldn't even begin to wrap his thoughts around everything. Havers would be much better than this, he knew.

"I'll go to check on Smith and Reed," Havers said upon entering the house.
"No, it's fine. I'll check. It's my responsibility." The Captain said.

"Sir, you're practically dead on your feet," Havers said. "You've been awake the entire raid. I can last another ten minutes before bed. You should go upstairs. The others will be back tomorrow, and you need to be at your best for them."

The Captain looked at him for a few moments, wishing he could find the words to say to his second in command.

If only he could make out his thoughts. But they were so tangled, muddled and jumbled that he didn't know what to believe anymore.

If it was so wrong to feel this way, then why had it been so easy, and why had it felt normal?

Why had it felt like his world had been in black and white before, and now it was in exploding, vibrant colour?

"William-" The Captain started quietly.

"Goodnight, Captain." Havers interrupted. "I shall see you in the morning."

He turned on his heel and walked away, leaving the Captain to stand motionless in shock for a few moments, unable to process what had just happened.

How wrong he was, he realised. Havers was likely as confused about everything as he was.