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For the second time, the Alphabets and Major Eberbach packed for Alaska. Yet another mission, rather than punishment — but it didn’t stop the junior agents from feeling wary and fearful of a possible, permanent stay. There was anxiety in the air — only made worse with a complication and subsequent delay in the military airport, forcing them to fly around Greenland until landing was liberated.
But, once it was, the fuel of the plane had almost completely ran out, and an emergency landing was needed, at the very foot of a mountain.
Thankfully, the landing was entirely safe, and HQ in Alaska knew their exact coordinates for a rescue immediately. However, due to the time and the weather in Juneau, they could only be rescued the very next day.
And so, the agents collectively sighed as they got their tents, sleeping bags and pajamas; and started a bonfire, ready for the long and cold night. The situation was dire — annoying at best for the Major, who demanded and yelled at the Americans for so long that he retired to his tent early.
As for the Alphabets, they were juniors, but they were professionals. They’d had worse nights, they reassured themselves. And they had each other. They’d survive.
But you were just a secretary. And you were horrified.
You had never signed up for a mission like this. It was one of the rare times the Major brought you along in a faraway mission. The most you’d brought along was pajamas and a toothbrush, and now all you had was to sleep in was a leftover tent from the plane, and an inflatable mattress that couldn’t be inflated. And so you sat, terrified, at the bonfire with the other agents, as they — even more horrifyingly — began packing up for bed.
Agent G had been kind enough to lend you a fleece blanket, the only thing that kept you from trembling the way you were before. Admittedly, asking to sleep in her tent was the very first thing that sprung to mind — but after her and Agent Z, a man you did not know, had both left suspiciously early for bed, you felt a little shy to ask.
As for the other agents, you were not close with any of them. Agent A and Agent B were married, and thus it felt awkward to ask. There was only one option left — the scariest option of all.
For what it was worth, the Major was not a very weird man. The bar was quite low, but he seemed decent enough — almost too decent, even. He rejected any kind of attention, female or otherwise. He never ogled anyone, unless it was to comment on something about them that he didn’t like — a crooked tie, a wrinkled suit. The most you’d seen him do was gawk at a female employee who wasn’t wearing makeup. A perfectly respectable, ordinary military man.
And so, you gathered all of your might, possibly more might than you ever thought you’d had. Sure, the agents had their missions to “stop the KGB” and whatnot — but you had to ask Major Eberbach for a favor , which was sleeping in his tent . And that was braver than spying on any KGB agent.
You hugged your blanket, breathing heavy from the cold as you walked towards the Major’s tent. It had only gotten colder since, the bonfire dwindling by the second. You hear no sounds from the tent, and see only the faint light of a lamp. You really hoped the man wasn’t asleep. You’d heard he slept at midnight sharp, and made sure to check the time beforehand.
“Sir?” You say.
Nothing.
“Sir?” You repeat, doing whatever is the closest to knocking on the fabric of the tent.
You only hear a single step before the zipper of the tent opens. “ What ?”
The Major then relaxed his gaze, a look of mild disappointment and annoyance in his eyes. “Oh, it’s you.”
“I’m sorry to disturb you, sir.” His hair was disheveled, as if he had been laying down somewhere. “Were you already asleep?”
“No. What do you want?”
You swallow dryly. The cold did nothing to help your tense shoulders.
“What is it, now? Do you want a raise, secretary? Just because you spent a night in a mountain?”
“It’s— it’s not that, sir, no.” A good suggestion, however. “I’m— I’m cold.”
“Put on a sweater, then.”
“I don’t have one”, you say.
The Major raised his voice. “What do you mean, you don’t have one? You knew I was bringing you to Alaska!”
“I didn’t — I couldn’t expect this to happen, sir!” You protest. “You only said we would stay at a hotel in Alaska — how was I supposed to know?” You only slightly raised your voice in return. It felt too tiring to speak, and you happened to feel a little more empathy for the agents’ rest than the Major.
The Major sighs, relenting. “And how am I supposed to help with that?” He asks.
You open your mouth to speak, but sigh instead. Once again, you are tasked with a harder mission than any Western spy.
“I, uh…” You look down, away from him. “I was wondering, uh, if I could, um, sleep with…” You clench your jaw, nodding your head suggestively, unable to say anything else.
The Major’s eyes widened.
“Are you out of your mind ? What the fuck are you talking about?”
You look at him again, if only to defend yourself. “Sir — I really am cold. I’ll never ask something like this again—” “You’d better !” He interrupts.
“Do I need to tell you how inappropriate this is, secretary? To ask to sleep in with your superior ?”
You nod, embarrassed, crossing your arms and pressing them tightly against your body, “Yes, I do, I do, sir…”
He sighs. “I’m baffled you could have even thought of asking something like that.”
“I only have the clothes on my body and this blanket”, you say. “What am I supposed to do?” You pressed on. Even if it meant angering him, or going through an awkward night, it would be better than whatever the next few hours could be, freezing at the foot of a mountain in Greenland.
The Major stared into your eyes, furrowing his eyebrows, sighing heavily.
“You don’t have a lamp in your tent?”
“Nothing”, you say.
He looks down, sighing again, before looking up at you once more. “I don’t have anywhere you can sleep in. I gave my sleeping bag to Agent E. I only have a blanket.”
“I have an inflatable mattress”, you say, somewhat hopefully. “But nobody else had a pump.”
"I have one." He zips open more of the tent, offering his hand. "Do you have it?”
You wordlessly give the mattress to him.
“Good. Come in. And don’t make a lot of noise.” He turned around, getting up; as he had been hunching over until then.
You hesitantly stepped inside, as if it were cursed ground — and immediately you noticed how much more spacious and in better condition his tent was, as if it was his own personal gear. There was an electrical lamp lit very low on the corner, the Major’s bag beside it, as was his blanket, neatly folded. He really hadn’t slept yet, you think to yourself, relieved.
“Is that even a blanket?” Your eyes shot back at him — looking at G’s blanket with disdain as he laid out the mattress on the floor. “I have seen women’s petticoats thicker than that thing.”
You stare at him, puzzled, as he walks over to his bag, making you take a step to the side. “You know what a petticoat is, sir?”
“It’s basic understanding of women’s clothing”, The Major says. “I’m in Intelligence — we know these things.” He bends over as he looks through the bag, and you look away again. The man had already lended you his tent — it was too much to stare at his backside like that.
“You can take the mattress and your blanket. I’ll sleep on the floor with mine.”
You shake your head. “Oh, no, please, sir — I insist. You’re helping me, you can sleep on the mattress, it’s the bare mini—”
He stands up again. “And sleep with you ?”
Your cheeks flush. "Not like that", you say. "We can sleep back to back — I think it would be beneficial for both of us…”
"Beneficial how?"
“With all due respect, you wouldn’t be sleeping on the floor, sir. It would damage your back.”
“I do sit-ups to help with my back”, the Major says threateningly. “I was doing them just now. Do you want to stay a secretary in Alaska?” He puts a hand on his waist. “You can work remotely.”
Offended, you sigh, looking down as you rubbed your hands for warmth. “I apologize for bringing it up.”
Asshole. Was it too much to not want to freeze to death in this blanket?
You suddenly noticed he was looking at you. “You’re still shivering”, the Major says.
You nod. “Since we landed.”
The Major sighed heavily, getting on his knees as he readied the pump. “We’ll sleep back to back. It won’t do to have you sick when I’m in another country.”
You furrow your eyebrows, confused, even if relieved. “Right.”
Five minutes passed in silence. You offered to start the pumping yourself. The effort was enough to make you feel warm again, stopping every once in a while to rest your thighs. The Major smoked silently, sitting cross-legged on the floor.
“Stop panting”, he suddenly says. “You’re being too loud. The agents will hear you.”
You could not help but scowl, resting your thighs again as you stared at him.
“... I apologize. I’m a little tired.”
“Would you like me to do it?” The Major asks. “I can do more — faster.”
“If you’d like, sir — You seem like you’re better at it than me”, you chuckle.
"I do a lot of pumping", the Major says, letting out a small ' hmph '.
Your positions were switched, and you sat down next to the ashtray, though you didn’t light a cigarette yourself. The entire tent smelled of cigarettes now. It reminded you of the office — though the Major was humane enough to leave the windows open through most of the year, it would be closed on colder days, or whenever it snowed, leaving the office so full of cigarette smoke you’d start to cough.
“The minute we land in Alaska, you’ll buy a sleeping bag”, he says. “I don’t want this happening again.
“Yes, sir.” You nod. “I’ll make sure to, once payday comes around.”
“I’ll give you a bonus”, he says. “You could help by saving up on that instant noodle crap.”
You glared at the floor, insulted and slightly appalled. A terrifying encounter led you to see the Major in the grocery store — likely working, considering the man probably barely knew how much a carton of eggs cost — and made you bump into him, when all you had in your hands were packs of noodles. He simply ignored you, walking away before you could say anything.
You clear your throat. “Yes, sir”, you repeat.
Sighing, you gaze up at him again as you continue rubbing your hands for warmth.
It was funny, you thought, seeing him like this. It was obviously always you doing things for him, from making phone calls to taking quick trips to a store when the office was out of coffee. For what it was worth, the Major really was good at pumping. He was doing it faster than your legs could ever handle — but then, the man’s thighs were probably the same width as a small tree trunk.
You were the one to finish inflating the mattress, laying the Major's blanket over it. You'd use Agent G's blanket as a pillow, you decided — it had a nice flowery smell, as opposed to the man who would lay beside you, now finishing his second cigarette.
Once you finished setting the blanket, you waited for the Major to put out his cigarette before considering getting into the mattress.
His nonchalant gaze meets with yours, before he nodded his head. "You can go in first."
"Oh." You raise your eyebrows, nodding as well. "You can do the honors, sir. I'd prefer it if you went in first."
The Major looked vaguely annoyed at his order being ignored, but said nothing — laying down on his side of the mattress, pulling the blanket over himself.
You sigh in relief. At least he could understand your hesitation, moments befores sleeping on the same bed as your boss.
And so you lay on the mattress next to the Major, your backs turned to the other. Your hands were nearly crossed over your chest from how stiff your position was, trying to feel warmth while at the same time trying not to graze, god forbid bump against him. He was a little too big for the mattress, the position you were in making so that you could still feel his, uh, backside against you, but it could be ignored.
Though the blanket the Major had brought was much thicker and expensive-looking than yours, you still felt cold, aware you’d feel even colder as you fell asleep. But you’d had worse nights, you reassured yourself. And you finally had a blanket. You’d survive. So you rub your hands against one another for the last time, gazing at a very dimly lit spot in the tent as you slowly close your eyes.
Then, you feel a bump — almost a push on your back, and you gasp as you roll off the mattress, taking some of the blanket with you.
“Wh—?!”
Disheveled and confused, you look back to the Major, as he himself slowly turned around, and, when you looked down, you found your answer.
There it was , you thought to yourself. That giant ass of his . He had probably barely moved an inch — but that can was enough to push you off the bed.
"What the hell?" He asks. "Did you fall off?"
"I'm — no, something bumped against me…"
"We must have bumped against each other when we fell asleep", the Major says. We?!
You hum, unconvinced, annoyed, sure of what you had felt on your back. You rub your eyes. “Well, we can try sleeping front to front, s—” You widen your eyes, but the Major was already glaring at you.
“Do you want to stay a secretary in Alaska that badly ?!” He asks, raising his voice louder than ever tonight.
You gingerly raise your voice back in frustration. “We could bump against each other again!” You say. “I— I want to sleep too, Major!”
The Major tsks, rolling his eyes. “ Fine ”, he says. “But this shall never happen again. Do you understand?”
You nod, sighing. Somehow, you felt like you wouldn’t be able to rest at all tonight.
You’re unsure of how to proceed. The mattress was too small, the Major was too tall — it was impossible to lay down next to him without your bodies touching, even moreso in the position you were in earlier. Your legs were touching, your chests were nearly touching; and though you did not look at him, you could still smell the cigarettes and whatever cologne he’d put on that morning.
Your arms ached, and you tried to move, change your position, but your hand brushed against his waist, and you brought it down again.
“I’m sorry, sir.”
He hums. “It happens.”
You were quiet again, looking down.
“I shouldn’t have given Agent E my sleeping bag”, he says. “This could have been avoided.”
“... Why’d you do it?” You ask. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“The airport lost his bag. He has some kind of problem with his spine — a hunchback, I don’t know. But that airport was incompetent enough that I actually gave my sleeping bag to him.” He sighs again. “I shouldn’t have. You’re the civilian here. He’s an officer.”
You wouldn’t know. Agent E was another one you didn’t know well — G was the only one, really — but you wouldn’t know if you’d prefer a man’s back problem worsen because of you, or if you’d prefer to stay as you were.
“Right”, you say. Your arms ached again. You tried moving them, but obtained the same result — your hand grazing the Major’s chest instead, leaving you even more embarrassed than before. “Oh, crap— I’m, I’m sorry, sir.”
“I don’t care”, the Major says, changing his own position so he’d rest his face on his arm underneath his head. He doesn’t graze against your body once — a master at avoiding touch. “It’s not like there’s another way we can sleep in. Just don’t try anything.”
For the first time since getting back on the mattress, you look at him — he obviously looked away, gazing off to a corner of the tent the way you were before. Though his eyes were half-lidded, he still looked deep in thought, clearly focused on something.
You don’t answer. You only put a hand on his chest, then another. His body doesn’t react, and neither does yours. You properly rest your head on the makeshift pillow-blanket, inches away from the Major’s neck. You look down at his arm — in the same position that yours was before, clearly stiff, clearly uncomfortable. You sleepily look away.
“I don’t mind it either”, you say, before closing your eyes. A few moments pass, a lifetime, before you feel a hand placed on your waist — making your eyes widen, more surprised than ever tonight.
You had dozed off between those few moments, you realize. You were sure you weren’t resting your head on the Major’s shoulder before — you weren’t this close, you’d have felt if he had come closer, and he hadn’t. But now he was.
And he was impossibly warm, warmer than the bonfire ever was, the warmth coming from his chest under your touch, to his fingertips over your clothes, to his sigh that you felt on top of your head. Your hands rested right over his hair, overgrown and nearly tickling your nose. For a man that used “goldilocks” as an insult, his own had long grown whatever would be the norm for a man like him.
At least it felt nice to touch, you thought to yourself. It looked nice. Underneath the suits and the yelling, he had that kind of gentle beauty, you thought. The long dark hair, the small green eyes, and the pouting lips, like a woman’s. Even his Major uniform, on the rare occasion you’d see him wear it, made his waist look trim and shapely enough that you’d caught yourself staring at the curves of his body, the trousers that hugged his hips. Ironclad and ruthless, now pressing and holding your body against his, his slim fingers touching your waist so gingerly it is as if they were not ever there.
But they’re impossible to ignore, as everything about the Major was impossible to ignore, for better or for worse.
But it wouldn’t do to think about these things now, you thought to yourself. Surely as it wouldn’t do to think about how warm your cheeks suddenly feel, or how your hands felt touching the thin fabric covering his chest, feeling the even warmer skin underneath. It wouldn’t do.
So you close your eyes, and you fall asleep next to the Major.