For King And Country (not mine)

Autumn 1940

November 6th 1940
The Captain oversaw the evacuation of the Anderson shelter in the early hours of the following morning. The Eleven dragged their feet in the direction of the house once they were permitted to leave.
"You may have until midday to catch up on sleep. At 1300 hours, I want everyone downstairs for the afternoon briefing. Dismissed."  He'd told them.
The Captain pulled his coat on, shivering once again at the chill. He would surely be ill soon if he wasn't careful. It was yet another thing to worry about.
He watched Eddie's mother scoop him up in her arms, carrying him back in the direction of home, and she smiled at the Captain kindly. He smiled back, raising his hand in a small wave.
He felt Havers' presence lingering nearby, as he always did. He was forever aware of the other man.
Tonight was one time the Captain wished Havers wouldn't linger. He was too exhausted to have the conversation that they needed to have. And certainly not out in the open. It was far too dangerous.
But he turned towards his lieutenant anyway, following the unit. Havers fell into step beside him, and neither spoke, both waiting for the other to break the tension.
Neither of them did.
They got back to the house in silence, walked up the stairs in silence, and reached Havers' room.
"Goodnight, Captain," Havers said.
"Goodnight, Havers." The Captain replied, walking away back to his bedroom. 
Throughout his bedtime routine, the Captain couldn't help but think of how he wanted Havers to be waiting for him. They'd had such a beautifully peaceful few months throughout their courtship. There had been very few arguments or times where they butted heads. And even then, it was always teasing. They didn't get angry at each other.
Or they hadn't. Until now, that was.
The Captain wished for the normalcy back. He could picture it now, how things would go.
Havers would smile, fatigue written into every inch of him, hissing quietly at the pain in his stiff muscles as he got comfortable in bed.
But he'd hold the Captain's back to his chest as they fell asleep, arm around his waist and legs tangled the way they always did, and all would be forgiven.
I could've lost him tonight.
That was all the Captain could think of, though.
Havers' life could be snatched away in the blink of an eye, and how would the Captain be expected to react?
Perhaps slightly saddened at the prospect of losing such a capable second.
But he was also expected to carry on as always. After all, this was war. And Havers was just a soldier. Soldiers died in wars. That was how it worked. They didn't get heroic ends. They went to their deaths like lambs to the slaughter, risking it all for their country.
They were mourned for at home as another victim to the situation the world found itself in.
Heroism only happened in old propaganda movies. There were no heroes in war. Not really.
The Captain would've had to carry on if Havers had died, and he had miraculously survived the blast.
Captains weren't supposed to be friends with their subordinates. They weren't supposed to think of them fondly.
They certainly weren't supposed to fall in love with their second in command.
The uncomfortable truth that the Captain was facing was confronting the intensity of his feelings.
He had known that it would happen to them eventually, of course, falling in love.
But he had expected to notice it when it came. He'd thought he would feel it creeping up on him as time went on.
Instead, it hit him like a freight train. All at once, leaving him no time to breathe, making his entire being feel even more alive.
It was all-consuming and overwhelming and altogether too much for the Captain to deal with.
Maybe the signs had been there the entire time, and he just hadn't known where to look. That seemed far more likely.
Part of him desperately needed the time and space to figure it all out before he spoke to Havers.
But a larger part just wanted what they'd had twenty-four hours previously.
The Captain missed waking up together, whispering secrets and stories to each other in the darkness when they were still too groggy to think.
The Captain finished brushing his teeth, returned to the bedroom and silently lamented at the emptiness.
It was heavy. He wasn't sure if Havers would come here until they'd fixed things.
He debated going to Havers' room himself, then decided against it. They were both tired, and things were far too fresh. They'd been drinking.
Good Lord, why did all of their most intense moments have to happen when there was alcohol involved?
The Captain crawled into bed alone, turned off his bedside lamp and tried to distract himself from Havers long enough to fall asleep.
~
November 10th 1940
Five days after the Captain's birthday, his heart and head were in shambles. He was falling apart at the seams.
He was as focused as usual during the day but unable to keep his eyes off Havers.
He was fine until he was alone. And then the walls came crumbling down so spectacularly that it took his breath away.
Havers hadn't come to his office or his bedroom. Not even once.
The Captain was terrified that the men would start to notice soon.
It was all getting to be too much.
It was late when he finally decided to do something about it.
Lights out had only been half an hour previously, and he'd spent the entire time tossing and turning, unable to sleep.
The Captain climbed out of bed, his feet softly meeting the hardwood floor as he crept into the hallway.
The house had become almost freezing now that the weather was beginning to change.
The Captain grit his teeth at the slight draught blowing through the corridors as he made his way to Havers' room.
He was taking a risk being the one to initiate the contact. Havers often slept in the Captain's room because it didn't look suspicious.
But the Captain had no real reason to be creeping around near Havers' room late at night. There was no guarantee that he would answer to knocking or that his door would be open.
When he reached the familiar door, he steadied himself before raising his hand to knock lightly.
The nearest room was only a few feet away and belonged to Hughes. The Captain was desperate for him to be deep in sleep.
The Captain waited for a few seconds before softly tapping his knuckles against the wood again.
Another few seconds passed, and his heart sank. Reluctantly, he forced his feet to move, dragging the heaviness of his legs away.
And then there was a noise.
"Captain?"
The Captain turned, seeing Havers poking his head around the doorframe.
A soft stream of light from his room spilt out into the corridor.
Havers was frowning, his hair was tousled, and two of the three buttons leading to the collar of his shirt were in the wrong holes.
But the Captain felt like he could finally breathe. Havers had answered the knocking. That was a good sign.
"Did you knock? Is something wrong?" Havers asked.
"No," The Captain said. "I - well, I mean, I did knock. And I - I suppose something is wrong, but I can leave it until the morning if you were sleeping-"
"I wasn't." Havers interrupted. "Sleeping, I mean. I was trying to, but I'm finding it difficult. You don't have to linger out there, sir. You can come inside. We won't have to whisper."
The Captain took the opportunity, taking the steps back towards Havers and ducking into the room with swift ease.
He heard the door close and the lock slide into place but was too busy looking around at Havers' room to start talking.
It was simple, of course. As simple as the other men's rooms.
But there was a shelf in one corner, filled with books yellowed with age and more dog-eared pages than smooth ones. Treasured books, then. Ones that Havers had owned for years and had reread and loved dearly.
A small writing desk was beneath the shelf, right next to a window. There was a pen and a few scraps of paper on it. Havers' familiar handwriting stretched across the page, looping and joining together perfectly.
His uniform was folded on the chest of drawers. It seemed Havers had the same method that the Captain had.
The covers on the bed was partially thrown back. One of the pillows had a slight indent, and the sheets were slightly wrinkled from where Havers had been lying down.
But the sheets were only disturbed on one side. Havers slept furthest from the door.
He was the opposite to the Captain, who preferred being closer to the door in case of an emergency.
Just like in the Captain's room, there was a lamp on the bedside table. That was the cause of the light that had appeared in the corridor when Havers had opened the door.
All in all, Havers' room was a space that was occupied. A room that was lived in. Proof of Havers' existence outside of a military context.
"What did you come here for, Theodore?"
The Captain frowned and turned. The words were stiff, and there was a trace of bitterness in the way Havers said his name.
He didn't like the way Havers called him Theodore. That wasn't right.
To Havers, he was Teddy. The nickname had come out of nowhere, slipping into Havers' vocabulary as easily as he took a breath. To hear 'Captain' or 'sir' anymore felt odd.
"I've gotten far too used to sleeping beside you." He said slowly. "I'm sick of ... whatever this is where we don't talk."
"I believe it's called a domestic. A tiff. A fight." Havers listed.
"If this is a fight, then we should both be discharged from the forces. We're awful at it." The Captain said.
"I thought we were doing quite a good job." Havers dismissed. "Five days is a long time to leave things."
"We left things four months after we kissed for the first time." The Captain pointed out.
"Didn't do a good job of beating that record, did we?" Havers laughed mirthlessly.
He stayed standing by the door, and the Captain felt the urge to close the distance. Was Havers waiting for him to make the first move?
"I didn't come here to exchange halfhearted jokes about the situation." The Captain said slowly.
"Then why did you come?"
"To explain myself." Havers raised an eyebrow, a gesture to go on. "I was worried. And scared. I asked you-"
"Ordered." Havers interrupted. "Call it what it was, Theodore. You didn't shy away from the word then. Please don't do it now."
The Captain clenched his jaw and took a breath, trying not to let the comment provoke him into a defensive rage. Havers was right. He hadn't shied away before.
"I ordered you to stay. If the door had slammed shut, I would've gone for the church. We weren't that far. We would've found somewhere safe to hole ourselves up in. If we hadn't made it in time, and that bomb had been closer, everyone in the shelter could’ve been seriously hurt. But I saw you, and my first thought was that you in danger could’ve been my last memory of you. I was so frightened that I’d lose you."
Havers watched him as he spoke but didn't respond. The Captain's hands shook. He wished he had something to hide it, to keep them busy.
"Don't just stand there. Please, Will, say something." The Captain implored.
Havers crossed the space, pulling the Captain close.
As they collided, they both breathed a sigh of relief, clinging to the other, pressed together completely.
"I barely had a moment to process what you said," Havers said softly. "When I turned around to look at you, you'd already gone. You have no idea how terrifying it was to not know what was happening. I had no idea Eddie had even fallen behind. So I reacted on instinct. I wasn't going to let you get locked out. All this time, I thought you were angry because I'd disobeyed an order. I didn't realise that you were just as afraid as I was."
"I mean, I wasn't happy that you'd chosen that moment to not listen. It didn't look fantastic in front of the village. But I wanted you safe, more than anything."
"Were you truly that worried about me?" Havers asked, leaning back. The Captain frowned.
"Of course I was. Why wouldn't I be?" He replied.
"I don't know, I just ... I assumed you were thinking more of Eddie."
Havers shrugged, suddenly looking ashamed, his head ducked as he looked to the side and refused to meet the Captain's gaze.
"They were two very different types of concern." The Captain said. He gently tilted Havers' face back towards his, trying to decipher what had made the lieutenant so bashful all of a sudden.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing is wrong," Havers murmured. "I'm just frustrated that we've been at odds with each other over a miscommunication. I'm sorry, I've been ridiculously bitter these past few days."
"It's all over and done, is it not? I'm sorry for worrying you. We understand each other now, though. We know how the other feels about it all. Don't we?" Havers nodded, and he finally looked at the Captain.
"Will you stay here tonight?" He asked. "I'm rather sick of sleeping alone as well. I've missed having to be a portable radiator for you."
The Captain laughed as lightly and quietly as he could, still conscious of how late it was. "Yes, I'll stay."
Havers grinned, some life flooding back into him, and he pressed a flurry of kisses to the Captain's cheeks and lips before pulling him to the bed.
They settled together into their usual sleeping position once Havers turned the lamp off.
The Captain's back was pressed to Havers' chest, his body heat curling around the Captain and relieving him of his tension. 
"Teddy," Havers whispered.
"Hm?"
"I'm not sure we do know how the other feels, you know."
"What on earth do you mean?"
The Captain was about to break free of Havers' embrace and turn around, prepared to really fight now. How could Havers say something -
"I love you."
The Captain stopped himself, heart stuttering, and he struggled to remember how to breathe.
A few moments passed in stunned silence before Havers spoke again.
"You don't have to say it back, but -"
"I love you too." The Captain interrupted.
He was almost glad that Havers couldn't see his face currently.
The heat that had rushed to his face was making him feel a little dizzy, and he was sure there was an embarrassing amount of redness in his cheeks.
"You do?"
The Captain turned, pulling Havers' body even closer.
"So much so that I'd kiss you senseless if there weren't a risk of headbutting you right now."
Havers tried valiantly to muffle his laugh, and the two readjusted themselves to sleep facing each other.
Legs tangled, arms around each other, hands clinging to shirts, and faces buried wherever they could find contact.
The Captain wasn't sure where he'd gotten his fortune from, but he was glad for it.
He allowed himself to dwell, as he fell asleep, on the things that could be once the war was over.
A life like this with Havers, somewhere secret and safe where no one who knew them could find them, sounded like a dream that was almost in reach. Somewhere secluded where they no longer had to hide.
The Captain was sure that it was possible for them. They would win the war. He was hopeful for
it.
And no matter how bleak the days might be, the man in the Captain's arms was worth fighting for.