Chapter Text
On the wall above the cottage fireplace sat two identical swagger sticks, matching right down to a specific scuff. They were crossed, fixed in place above a cinematic photograph of two men at the altar, sharing their first kiss as a married couple. Of course, the inevitable nature of life with its many ends meant that it also had many starts. And one of those was the start of the Captain's marriage with William.
The season of spring was the one usually associated with new beginnings, but the Captain's new life with William offered an eternal summer all year round, contending even with the coldness brought by bitter winter days. Consistent warm and vibrancy filtered into the Captain's life, an intoxicating sunshine streaming in through the windows of his soul. Ten months into marriage, and this seemed the inarguable theme.
There was a beautiful unspoken synchronicity in the way the Captain and William's lives slotted together, a mutual symphony as they matched one another's rhythm marching through existence together. Much like when they'd first started living under one roof, they'd adopted a routine which worked for the both of them with a degree of compromise where necessary. They were two very different souls, but somehow they just worked.
When William drifted too far into relaxed spontaneity leading to disorganisation (and what the Captain had been known to affectionately call “chaos”), the Captain could leap in and save the day with a contingency plan, carefully woven by his intrinsic organised nature and eagerly actioned by his desire to complete 'acts of service'. When the Captain found himself in a spin of panic, level-headed William remained calm and collected, grounding him with an adeptness to be admired. When sleepy William was unwilling to pry himself from his bed, the Captain was there with freshly brewed tea to tempt him from the duvet. Opposites attract, and these two had magnetised to each other and slotted together perfectly like puzzle pieces.
Even so, it gradually became clear that learning to live with somebody else required more than an adjustment to the practical nature of sharing one's life. It transpired it extended to the feelings which came with a partnership, the social aspect and dynamic between two people. Whether this was being open with one another and letting the other know that they've done something upsetting; or whether it was asking for or giving space when it was required after a long tiresome day. All in all, it became apparent that clear communication was the key to making things function smoothly, especially when two strikingly different troops were part of the same operation.
As their marriage commenced, William continued his work at the school, though dropping the number of days he worked slightly and instead sharing his class with another teacher. The reason for this? His desire to spend more time bonding with his new husband. He found he could now get some of his social needs fulfilled and find domestic enjoyment outside of his job.
The Captain, however, had made a choice to continue a more domestic lifestyle – to be a househusband, if you will. He'd spent so many years a career man, and had come to learn that he rather enjoyed staying home. It also nicely aligned with the fact that he was still somewhat overwhelmed by the choices he had now, and lack of direction and structure that the army had brought him the last time he'd had such physical freedom. William was supportive of his decision. There were admittedly benefits in it for him, after all: he got to come home each day to a loving embrace and the plans for dinner sorted.
The two of them continued a diligent schedule of morning runs several times a week, but also filled the rest of their days with a variety of activities, from long rambles through the countryside, to visiting William's family to help out on the farm, to occasionally meeting with the ghost group. But for the most part, William left the Captain to have his own separate friendship group much like William had his own circle of people with whom he associated and occasionally met. It came back down to that giving of space.
Otherwise, they clung together a lot of the time. And through choice rather than necessity. There was a desire they each had to spend time with one another in addition to the normal forced proximity conditions usually required by marriage.
One ongoing focus for the Captain since his arrival in the afterlife had been learning to cook. Through his life he hadn't needed to do so, having grown up with staff, been fed at school, and then served food in the Mess Hall. Though, being a big believer in the importance of proper nutrition, it had been a mission of sorts to learn to prepare balanced meals – especially when he felt it was something of value he should provide to his husband. This extended to a tradition he'd adopted: each morning he diligently made William's sandwiches for work, seeing him off with them when he left the house.
“I know you can make them yourself,” he had started self-consciously as a caveat, one day upon handing William the reliable lunchbox he always packed them into. “But I want to show how much I love you, and I care that you have something good to eat to get you through the day.”
“I adore that you do this for me, darling,” had been William's response, fluttering his eyelids charmingly.
This particular May morning, the Captain hummed to himself in the kitchen as he made the sandwiches, William upstairs getting himself ready for work. He sawed slices from the fresh loaf of crusty bread he'd picked up the day prior, and selected some choice fillings from the fridge. Carefully assembling the products in appropriate quantities, he stacked them atop the bread with precision.
William's footsteps grew louder, descending the stairs with a slight creaking. There was something intrinsically domestic about the sound of his socked feet padding across the hallway rug. Reaching the kitchen, he approached the Captain from behind to peer at the lunch preparation as he did every morning. And the Captain found he never flinched.
William's voice appeared at the Captain's shoulder. “Mmm, what's on the menu today?”
“Mature cheddar cheese and honeyroast ham with wholegrain mustard and iceberg lettuce on granary bread.” The Captain rattled it off with ease.
He carefully cut the sandwiches diagonally into triangles. His view was that there should never be such thing as a rectangular sandwich.
“Delicious. Thank you, darling.” William's hand soothed at the Captain's shoulder. He stepped away to stand next to him. “At work they always ask what I've got for lunch each day. They're jealous – they want their own 'you'.”
The Captain raised his eyebrows and looked over at William. He was now hunched over to lean on the kitchen top beside him, elbows resting on the stony surface, hands framing his face.
William's eyes crinkled as he smiled at him. “One can't blame them, of course.” His voice was slightly muffled from his chin nestling at the point the heels of his hands met. “You're an absolute dear.” A dreamy look swam in his eyes. To the Captain, the idea of being perceived as desirable by people other than William was a strange one. “It's always 'What have you got today, William?'” He dramatically fluttered the back of his hand to his forehead in a faux faint. “'God, he treats you well!'”
The Captain chuckled. The effort which William put into this impression of his colleague's character was impressive this early in the morning, given that a mere twenty minutes ago he'd hardly had the energy to turn off the alarm clock. “Very theatrical, dear.” Everything carefully packed inside, he clicked the lunchbox lid closed.
“Not exaggerated one bit, of course.” William winked, straightening up.
“You'd do well in the dramatics.” The Captain handed him the box, passing the act of love onto him.
“Well,” William tucked the blue plastic box under his arm. “Thanks awfully. That may be, but I've got a class to teach, and a lovingly-crafted lunch to look forward to.” He gave the Captain a grateful peck on the cheek and turned to stride from the kitchen.
The Captain followed in hot pursuit as always, eager to do his duty of seeing him off properly at the door.
“Don't forget your keys,” the Captain said as he did every morning, passing them from their designated hook to William.
“What would I do without you?” William grinned and fondly plucked them from the Captain's grip to pocket them. He turned to pick a pair of work shoes from the top of the multilayered wooden rack. It had been one of the first elements of organisation the Captain had seen to upon moving in: tackling William's disarrayed shoe collection. Now they sat on neat shelves, organised by category.
William stepped into them, gratefully holding the Captain's shoulder for support, then knelt down to tie them, lunchbox beside him. With springy knees that the Captain envied, he bobbed back to standing, sandwiches back in hand.
William leant in and gave the Captain his parting kiss. “See you this evening, dear.”
The Captain handed him his work bag. “Have a good day.”
He squeezed his hand. “I will! And you, my darling.” And with that, he'd stepped out the front door and was gone.
With William off to work, the Captain got to his own. First to wash the dishes (by hand), then to hoover the living room. He'd go and get groceries, and then iron William's shirts. His chores differed depending on the day of the week, but he prided himself on keeping the house spick-and-span. He wanted to ensure that William came home in the evenings to a clean house and spent his days off without chores to do.
At first, the Captain had taken to reading housewifery books, determined to make a success of their marriage, to be allowed to keep William. As a result, one evening a few weeks into their marriage, William had come home to the Captain's ardent efforts to welcome him back appropriately:
“I've put your slippers by your chair. Sit down, I'll get you a drink.”
As he put down his bag, William's forehead crinkled in gentle confusion. “I don't have slippers?”
“You do now.”
“Oh, since when?”
“Since today.”
William's features had rearranged in further puzzlement, his eyebrows moving unpredictably in all directions like wayward caterpillars. “Oh?”
“I bought you some.”
“That's very generous of you. How come? I mean, I'm always cold but...”
“Because...” The Captain had stuttered. “The book said...”
“What book? Oh, my love.” Realisation had dawned on him and he'd stepped forwards to stroke the Captain's cheek.
At first the Captain felt awfully silly, like he'd failed at the first hurdle of being a househusband, but William hadn't let him feel that way. Fussing over him with a kind of... not pity, but compassionate sympathy, William realised that the Captain had only ever wanted to make him happy. He recognised that the Captain aspired to treat him the best way possible, that he just hadn't known how to go about it in a modern way and had felt more comfortable falling to written instructions.
No matter what, William never made him feel silly. And hadn't he felt humiliatingly daft so many times in his life before?
Continually, the Captain was working on it. He was still trying his best, and still trying to spoil William rotten, but also marching up a learning curve. Marriage in general was a learning curve for them both. They weren't always getting it right, but by God were they trying their hardest. And by God, the Captain was happy.