Chapter Text
Christmas Day 1939 - Button House
The Christmas festivities were in full swing, but the Captain had spent most of his day avoiding them.
Downstairs, he could hear laughing, cheering, music blasting from the record player. Despite it being their first Christmas in wartime, things were lively.
But everyone was cheery, likely rosy-cheeked and bright-eyed thanks to the drinks they'd acquired from previous visits to the nearest town.
The Captain, however, was sat in his office, his jacket lovingly hung over the back of his chair. His tie, tucked under a stiff collar, was looser than entirely appropriate.
In front of him, countless reports and communications to read and stamp and send back to London by lunchtime of the following day.
Captains didn't get a day off at Christmas, it seemed. Not during a war.
It would be worse for those ranking higher than him. They would be doing ten times the workload in half the time. The least the Captain could do was suck it up and get on with it. For King and Country, of course.
A soft knock landed on his door. Had it not been for the deathly silence in his office, the Captain would have missed it entirely.
The Captain stood.
"Come!" He called. The door opened, and the Captain's breath caught slightly.
In stepped his second command, Lieutenant William Havers and the Captain felt a shift in his worldview.
Things always seemed much better, much more stable, when his second was in his line of sight.
The familiarity, the camaraderie, the dare he say friendship that had blossomed from their service together soothed him at the end of each day, knowing that he at least had someone here that understood him.
Understood him mostly, he supposed.
It hadn't taken long for the Captain to realise that things had taken a turn.
He had known for most of his life that something was going on in his heart and his head when it came to men.
His teenage years and his early military service were fraught with deep feelings of longing for something that he knew he couldn't have.
Something that scared him deeply because of how deep that longing was.
In the few instances where he had been proven wrong, where there had been dalliances with other men, it had been after months away with no women in sight.
It had been a last resort. Something hushed, all rough hands and muffled noises in the dead of night.
There was no tenderness or feelings involved. Maybe the feeling of need or desire, but never the emotions that the Captain wanted to experience.
Other men had gotten antsy, had shamefully snuck into opposing dormitories, into bathrooms and abandoned cupboards in quiet corridors after lights out, and had sought out affection with fellow soldiers.
The Captain had been sought after once or twice in his younger years by desperate friends. He had never given any inkling that he felt like this all the time. How he yearned for it even when he wasn't surrounded by only men.
Doing so would be suicide, of course.
He would be turned in, taken far from Button House, from his men and from Havers, and given to the police to handle.
His medals and titles, honours and promotions, a lifetime of commitment to His Majesty's armed forces, would be stripped away.
And what was he really, without all of that? What would he have to show from his life?
If he wasn't jailed, if he took the route of medical intervention, then he would spend the rest of his days a shell of himself.
Shame would make even more of a home out of him, and the scandal would follow him for the rest of his life, wherever he went.
So the Captain hid, and he hid well. He kept a stiff upper lip, ever the traditional Brit. He was meticulous in his work, and he was prepared for everything.
No one could fault him. Not one man in the Button Eleven could fault his work ethic. He was dedicated and precise. And that came to his feelings, too.
But how Havers made the Captain want to change that.
With his air of confidence, his kindness, and the smile that lit up his face whenever it appeared. And it did appear often. Havers was a happy man. An extraordinarily happy one.
In only six weeks, the Captain had had his breath stolen from his lungs every time Havers walked into the room.
It was incredibly rude of Havers to do, but the Captain could hardly blame him. Not when the feeling of breathlessness was accompanied by the pleasant butterflies in his stomach.
They had spent many late nights together doing reports. And every second was precious to the Captain.
Every attempt at humour that he made was met with that smile, and the little twinkle of laughter in Havers' big brown eyes was enough to make anyone melt. The Captain understood how he was so well-liked.
"Good evening, Havers. At ease. How can I help you?" The Captain asked. "Shouldn't you be downstairs celebrating?"
"I noticed your absence, sir," Havers said. At those words, the Captain's worn heart stuttered in his chest. "I wanted to ask if you would join us."
"I - uhm - my apologies, Havers. I've got too many reports to finish by tomorrow. The war doesn't stop for Christmas, you know."
A flicker of something akin to disappointment flashed through Havers' eyes. His kind, lovely eyes. The colour of caramel. The Captain had made the mistake of looking into them on a sunny day one day.
His heart had skipped a beat.
It was something he'd read about but never experienced until Havers.
The guilt at seeing the disappointment immediately settled into the Captain's stomach, and he knew that his resolve would crumble within an instant should Havers press too much further.
"Are you sure, sir? Not even for an hour? I wouldn't mind helping with the reports once you're ready to leave. We could get through them fairly quickly if we work together."
"I couldn't ask you to do that, Havers." The Captain tried valiantly to remain strictly professional, though he knew that he would very much like to spend the afternoon with the Eleven.
"I'm your second, sir. It would be my pleasure." Havers insisted. "No one should be alone at Christmas."
The Captain couldn't help but let the corners of his lips turn upwards into a small smile hidden very well underneath his moustache.
"Very well, then, Havers. Lead the way."
Havers beamed, and the Captain's heart began to pound, as it often did when Havers smiled at him like that.
He followed Havers out of the room and downstairs towards the noise. He could hear it grow louder as they descended the stairs.
The Captain suddenly realised that he didn't have his jacket on. He'd left it on the back of his chair. And he was in a dreadful state of undress.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, the Captain stopped. He smoothed down his shirt, made sure that his shirt was still tucked in. His fingers found his tie and expertly began to retie the fabric.
Havers turned, noticing the lack of footsteps behind him, and when he saw the Captain fiddling with his uniform, he stepped closer, a fond smile on his face.
"Sir, if you're worried about seeming unprofessional, I would worry more about the state of some of the others."
Havers himself was jacket-less, tie-less, with his top two buttons pulled apart. His shirt was still tucked, his boots still lovingly polished, his trousers carefully treated at the end of the day to avoid getting wrinkles.
In short, he was still ridiculously handsome whether his uniform was complete or not.
"May I?" Havers asked, gesturing slightly to the Captain's tie.
The Captain was taken aback but nodded shakily. Havers moved even closer until the Captain could feel the heat of being close to another person. He was so warm he was worried that he would faint.
The lieutenant's fingers were gentle as they tugged apart the fabric and popped open the top button.
Havers left it alone then, knowing instinctively that anymore uniform alterations would prey on his superior's mind until he had safely retreated to the safety of his office again.
"There," Havers said softly. "You will be just as at ease as the rest of us now, sir. Here, you should put your tie in your pocket."
"Y-yes, of course. Excellent thinking as always, Havers." The Captain replied, taking the tie and feeling a tingle as his fingers brushed his second in command's.
Havers remained for just a moment before turning on his heel and carrying on towards the party.
Upon entering the room, some of the chatterings stopped, and the Eleven immediately stood to attention.
"At ease!" The Captain said. "No need for the formalities today. It is Christmas, after all."
Havers handed him a glass of port.
"Perhaps you should make a toast, Captain." He suggested.
"Yes, of course." The Captain agreed. He thought for a moment. "To the Button Eleven. May we continue to have a successful time here."
He raised his glass, watching as his officers mirrored and echoed him.
As everyone drank and returned to their festivities, Havers managed to draw his attention once again.
"My apologies for the strangers in the house, sir." He said. "They're from the local town. A few of us met them during our last visit and invited them. I ensured everyone put away any documents in their rooms. Every one of them has locked their door behind them. I made sure of it."
"Good work, Havers. Very good work." The Captain assured. "I wouldn't expect any different from you."
Pride settled into Havers' features.
"Thank you, sir."
The two of them remained next to the window in the main room, chatting about meaningless drivel, drinking glass after glass of port.
These moments where conversations came easy were the Captain's favourite moments in the day. He had grown very fond of the idle talks that he and the lieutenant shared while working.
Before the Captain realised, a nearby clock chimed 1900 hours.
He had been celebrating with his fellow soldiers for well over two hours by this point.
He and Havers had made a home out of the windowsill, their backs to the window and sat with only a few centimetres between them.
"Goodness, I can't believe how fast the time has flown!" The Captain remarked.
"Would you like to return to your paperwork now?" Havers asked.
"I should probably do so, yes." The Captain said reluctantly. "But you are under no obligations to lend your time and effort."
"I would like to lend it, Captain," Havers said. "I'm not the type to break my promises. After all, I did drag you down here to celebrate. It's only right that I help with reports."
"If you're sure, then I suppose we should get it finished quickly so that you can enjoy the rest of the day."
The two made their departure known, citing the piles of papers on the Captain's desk as the reason.
"I hope you don't mind, Captain, but I did bring some port with me," Havers said, holding up a bottle and two glasses as they entered the office. "Of course, I shan't drink any if you would prefer, but I thought it might make the work a little less tiresome."
"It would be a shame to see it go to waste." The Captain replied.
The two settled at the desk, where there were two chairs on opposing sides for both men to work. They worked well like this. It seemed very effective, having someone to make the load a little lighter.
"Just as a reminder, sir, the other nine are returning home over the weekend to see their loved ones." Havers said, pouring two drinks.
"Ah yes, I remember you telling me. Are you not also looking to return home?" The Captain asked, careful to keep a mildly curious tone to his voice.
He needed to hide his disappointment should Havers decide to return to Surrey.
"No, sir," Havers replied. "I shall be remaining here."
"Do you not miss your family?"
Havers was quiet for a moment, and the Captain feared he may have overstepped the mark.
"It's just my younger sister and me. Our parents caught polio some time ago. Both my sister and I had moved out by then, so we were fortunate to avoid it. It got to their lungs in the end. It was almost a relief when they passed on." Havers admitted.
"My sincerest apologies, William."
The Captain wasn't sure why he used the lieutenant's first name. He hadn't before, but it somehow seemed necessary now.
Somehow, referring to him as his last name felt wrong. It didn't describe the depth of his words, how truly sorry he was that his second had lost his parents in such a manner.
"It's quite alright, sir," Havers assured. "It happened many years ago now. My sister and I write as often as possible, but she has a husband and four little boys to take care of. I shouldn't interfere during such a busy time of year."
"Good Lord, four boys?" The Captain chuckled. "She must have her work cut out for her."
Havers laughed lightly and nodded. "They run rings about poor Louisa. I imagine it's payback for how we used to torment each other as children."
"Might I assume you have no woman and children of your own, then?" The Captain asked. “Since you cite your sister as your only family?”
Please, let the answer be no. If Havers has someone to return to, my heart shall be wracked with more shame than it already is.
How could I want after a man with a family?
How appalling of an individual would I be if I wished and prayed for something with a man that already has someone to return home to?
"Your assumption would be correct, sir. I haven't quite found someone to settle down with yet." Havers hesitantly replied. "What about you, Captain? Do you have a family back home?"
"Two older twin brothers. There’s four years between us. They're serving abroad in France, but I’m not very close with either of them. Michael is a lieutenant like you, and Alistair is a Colonel."
"No parents? No wife or children either?"
The Captain shook his head, took a sip of port and looked down at his papers again. He could feel the sting of the words in his heart.
Not having a partner wasn’t a choice. It was something he desperately wanted, but had assumed he’d never acquire by now.
"I've said something to offend you, haven't I, sir?" Havers asked quietly. The Captain looked up sharply to see his second looking guilty and genuinely remorseful. "I'm dreadfully sorry, Captain. It wasn't my intention."
"You didn't. Not at all." The Captain assured. "I just get a lot of pity now, having not settled down. I've been serving since I was eighteen. I have spent over half of my life in the services and never considered whether a companion in retirement would be a good idea. Children have never been my cup of tea, per se, but a life partner would have been nice."
"I'm sure it's not too late for you, Captain," Havers assured. "For either of us."
The two shared a soft smile.
"Under the circumstances of us sharing something so meaningful, I suppose an equal footing is required." The Captain said. "Not many people know this, and I hope no one should find out lest they get cheeky, but my name is Theodore. If you wish, you can call me that."
A twinkle in Havers' eyes signalled that he was moved by the admission of the Captain's name, thrilled to be trusted by his superior.
"I propose a toast of our own, sir," Havers said softly.
"What shall we toast to?"
"Would friendship be appropriate?"
The Captain nodded, forcing his features to remain neutral.
Oh, how I wish it could be so much more than that, Havers.
"To our friendship, then." Havers raised his glass.
"To our friendship." The Captain responded, gently tapping his glass against his lieutenant's.
They both sipped their drinks and smiled once they had finished drinking.
"Merry Christmas, William."
"Merry Christmas, Theodore."