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It’s simple in an unfamiliar, awfully complex sort of way.
Strange like a suspiciously peaceful day, a pleasant valley that interrupts the otherwise mountainous and unpredictable cliffs of the war.
There’s no sound apart from their boots crunching down the grass in tandem. A simple trail left behind, so shallow and cold compared to the deep warmth buzzing around in his chest.
He hopes to dispel it through his steps and back into the grass, for a warmth so profound is too deep for such a simple day.
“I’m glad you agreed to accompany me, sir,” Havers speaks from beside him, voice light as the breeze ruffling his trousers.
It rips him out of his thoughts all the same, back to the swaying field and setting sun. Back to the man strolling peacefully through the meadow alongside him.
The Captain flits him a hesitant glance before looking back up into the sky. “Yes, well, it is important to take a break once in a while. A little bit of fresh air can go a long way. Might just give us the edge.” He tacks on at the end, a slight smile pulling at his lips.
Havers hums, a gentle buzz in his ear. “I trust it will, sir,” and he looks at him, then, orange swirling into the browns of his iris as the sun reflects into his eyes. There’s a significance, there, misplaced in such a simple sight.
It burns his retinas and cheeks, like a brilliant sun that doesn’t recognise its own radiance.
(he pulls his eyes away)
They continue their walk in silence, trodding through fields and forests, until the Captain decides to finally ask:
“Say, Havers?”
“Sir?”
He looks up ahead, at the marigolds dancing in the distant meadows. They’re warm, inviting, as if they sense the flowers blooming in his own chest. It is a beautiful sight, but even still: “Why here in particular? It is a bally way away from the house.”
The Lieutenant glances up at the sky. A quiet, amused huff is all Havers offers before clasping his arm, pulling the Captain along down a sidepath. The contact makes the sun under his skin burn with longing. He yields under its warmth.
It’s overgrown and tangled, riddled with thorns. He feels oddly like a little boy again, dodging the nettles as they fight through the bushes, not out of survival but out of reckless curiosity. Havers stumbles over a hidden rock at one point, running down the path with an urgence that sparks excitement adrenaline instead of worry.
The dirt beneath his feet suddenly turns into high grass, tickling at his trousers and slowing his steps. A faint cold starts to dot his hands. A wonderful scent fills the air, so free and warm and perfect.
Up in the sky, the sun paints the clouds in a pink and yellow aurora, its watchful gaze spread across the landscape. The marigolds twirl as the birds sing, like one peaceful harmony that drifts through his ears. The meadow captures it all, like a stage for its excellence, an open expanse that allows him to appreciate its beauty.
Yet none of it captures his gaze. Not truly, not that it could ever.
Not when the smile of the man standing in front of him glows brighter than its rays ever could. So simple, yet so complex in its beauty.
It leaves him breathless, shoulders sinking as Havers leads him along. Their boots crunch against what he now recognises as snow, quickly coating the meadow. Though instead of taking the stage, his eyes only shine brighter in contrast.
There’s a patch of short grass in the midst of it all — Havers practically collapses onto the ground, pulling the Captain down with him.
For a while, they sit side by side, lit under the setting sun. Under the protection of the clouds, it isn’t blinding.
The birds sing up above them.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it, sir?” Havers murmurs, as if he could ever disturb the unfamiliar bliss that cocoons him. Captain’s gaze flits back to him like a magnet, one thought worming its way through the buzz. If only you knew just how so.
“I often come here, when the day is free. I found it after going down the wrong path while exploring, although now I don’t regret doing so,” Havers explains with a slightly embarrassed chuckle. He tentatively meets his eyes, licking his lips in hesitation before continuing. “I wanted to show you, sir. I thought you would appreciate the view, with the recent workload.”
It freezes him entirely, like an ice statue in the snow. Affection bursts in his chest, turns his eyes soft, makes his stomach flip. The mess of words on the tip of his tongue tangles together like brambles. So many words, tumbling into each other in i can’t believe you came all this way just to show me’s and how could i ever deserve you and i adore you
(in such an awful, ungodly way)
and i
love you
more than the sun itself—
He swallows them all back down, like a set of ticking time bombs.
“Thank you, Havers. It…it truly is beautiful,” the Captain whispers, and only after those words does he regretfully tear his gaze away, leaving them in a comfortable silence.
A significantly long while passes before he speaks again, spent lazily watching the clouds drift along the sky. It truly is.
“Ah, but it is a shame for the snow to fall in the midst of such a sight. I didn’t expect it to come this early in the year.”
Havers lets out a light puff, brushing the rapidly accumulating snow off of his outstretched legs. “Yes, well, I didn’t expect so, either. We ought to head back soon if we don’t want to be covered in it, sir.” A contemplative look shadows over his face as he stares at it, eyebrows creasing slightly.
i could never leave here; i’d rather sit and decay under the falling snow than leave this behind
“Yes, quite,” the Captain nods. Then startles, as a pile of snow thumps from his cap into his lap. His gloves have become completely invisible by his sides. “Good Lord, already? We must head back at once, Havers. You’d think Mother Nature was ou—”
His words descend into sputtering gibberish as a clump of snow smacks him across the face, knocking his hat askew completely. Shocked, he looks over at Havers, who still appears captivated by the sun, whistling a tune along with the birds.
“What the bally hell ju—”
The Lieutenant glances at him, that twinkle now sparkling with mischief equally bright, and it all clicks together like a wonderfully simple puzzle.
He tilts his head.
Oh.
Oh, I see.
The Captain pauses for dramatic effect, weighing all options simultaneously. Two ticks of his watch, and a clump of snow is aimed right back at Havers’ infruriatingly gleeful grin.
The Lieutenant yelps before springing into action, army training kicking in for such a glorious battle. A wave of snow kicks up as they both scramble to their positions.
Another two ticks, and it's all descended into chaos as they pelt each other with snow, red nosed and enlivened as the surrounding world fades into a muted buzz. The meadow cushions Havers’ fall as two snowballs hit him square in the knees; he weakly throws one back before getting to his feet.
In a fit of desperation, Havers runs and tackles the Captain to the ground. He lets out a surprised laugh, formality forgotten — the cold doesn’t deter either of them, coats tangling together as they tussle about in the snow, momentarily distanced from it all.
They roll around into the tall grass and into the marigolds until their wrestling finally slows to a stop. Lying there, both breathless, splayed over each other and coated with puffs of snow.
Splayed…over…
Havers’ breath tickles his skin, though he can’t say anything (won’t say anything, in fear of ruining it all) heart racing and warmth flaring throughout his face. Neither does Havers, equally worn out and concerningly red faced. Nose almost touching his own.
And it all comes to a gentle stop.
Seconds tick past, long and fragile.
In the midst of the field, Havers stares back at him: there’s a sun in his eyes, staring back at him as if he’s the brightest thing in the world.
It’s in that moment, between all the fear and doubt and panic and oh god ohgoodlord, that the warmth finally spills over, calm like a river in the middle of a valley.
The Captain’s smile creases his eyes so much it hurts. A light laugh escapes Havers, almost disbelieving.
So, so disbelieving.
Because it’s always been so obvious,
and so simple.
Satisfied, the sun sinks under the horizon line, and Havers finally surges forward and interlocks their lips, one leg between the Captain’s and one hand cradling his neck. The kiss is soft and gentle, carrying the weight of a thousand words he’d never dare to speak aloud. As they venture deeper, one arm makes its way onto Haver’s back, pulling him impossibly closer.
It’s clumsy and awkward and passionate yet brilliantly perfect in every single way.
He loses track of how much time passes, though when they finally pull apart his lips are stinging and he’s breathless all over again. A brief spike of fear pokes at him, although it dulls under Havers’ watchful gaze. Brown and glimmering with the marigolds.
He’s so, so brilliantly perfect.
The Captain kisses him again, and again, and more, and more until Havers is laughing into his mouth and they’ve rolled over to lay side by side in the grass.
The snowflakes flutter down onto them.
It’s another long while before the Captain regains the ability to speak coherently.
“...William?”
“Teddy.”
With a start, he props himself up at the nickname, and Havers is smiling at him all the same. “Teddy?” He asks, slightly dazed.
“Well, it’s short for Theodore, isn’t it?” He says, as if this is all the most natural thing in the world. “I hope you don’t mind — I think it suits you.”
After a long, precious moment, Teddy shakes his head, thumping back into the snow. His heart is hammering against his chest. “Not if it’s you saying it, William. Not at all.”
He catches the way Havers beams in the corner of his eye, before it dims like the darkening sky.
"We...are not going to speak of this, correct?" An echo of his own silent question, quiet and reserved, as if the wolves will pounce out of the shadows in that very moment.
They don't, but their frigid claws sink through his clothing and into his skin all the same.
"Correct."
He echoes back as the simple fact that it is.
(for once, he wishes it weren't so simple)
And yet, the birds continue to sing all the same, even as the stars begin to peak through the night's blinds.
...
The night.
His men.
Oh, good lord—
He looks back at William, who’s already racing to his feet, dusting off his coat and extending a hand towards him. The Captain only hesitates once, afraid and unsure and what if someone sees us, before clasping it like a lifeline and ignoring the click in his knees. All the unspoken words will come in due time.
Even after William heaves him to his feet, their hands stay intertwined (which proves to be slightly counter-productive, as he almost topples both of them over as he bends down to pick up his buried cap).
But, alas, they race back through the sidepath with breakneck speed, back through the fields and repainting their previous footsteps until they eventually drop to a walking pace. Button House sits in the distance, steadily being coated by snow, unchanged and oblivious.
Even though their hands disconnect, the beaming grin William offers him is more than enough.
He returns it, not remembering the last time his cheeks hurt so.
The warmth in his chest really is simple. Yet so inexplicably complex.
(Though, Teddy finds it doesn’t need to be explained, at least not right now. Not when it’s all laid out in front of him. All for William to see.)
His Lieutenant gently knocks against his shoulder, those breathtaking eyes twinkling up at him — the love in his chest expands enough to melt the snow and tug the sun back into the sky.
(He just might, if it only meant he could experience such simplicity for the rest of time.)