Chapter Text
“Bally hell!” The Captain shot out of his desk chair, nearly sending his plans for Operation Back Door flying in the process. A few rooms away, something had just shattered.
Fury simmering, he forced his chair away from the desk and started for the door. He wrenched it open, and began a heavy-footed march in the direction of the sound.
On the landing, a tall figure was already ahead of him in pursuit of the same target. The voice of Lieutenant Havers called back to him. “Not to worry, sir – I'm seeing to it.”
The Captain felt his shoulders drop from his ears. Efficient and decisive as always, was his second-in-command. The man had a certain hold over the Captain who was mighty fond of his fairness, authority and overall athleticism. As far as the Captain was concerned, nobody could hold a torch to Havers' light. One might even accuse the CO of having favourites...
Too busy relishing in the warm comfort of his second-in-command's competency, he hardly took stock of Havers knowing who was behind him without checking over his shoulder. By the time he had crossed the back of the ballroom and caught up with where Havers had been heading, he was faced with an ajar door. Inside, he could hear the tapping of heavy boots on floorboards.
Good Lord, Havers was in his bedroom.
Antsy over what to do, whether to follow or whether the situation would be made awkward, he hadn't yet made a decision when Havers came out holding a cricket ball between his fingers.
Nervous anticipation jittered in the Captain's chest. Whether for waiting to hear about the damage, or for being faced by his charming lieutenant's wry smile in the close proximity afforded by the narrow corridor, he wasn't sure.
Havers looked directly at him. His square jaw was set, serious. “Well, I... I suppose I shall break the news to you gently.”
Ironic, seeing as whatever had been broken had clearly been done with quite some force.
The Captain's hands met behind his back, his fingers twisting. “Go on, tell me the worst.”
“It's your bedroom window, sir. I'm very sorry.”
The Captain's agitated hands clenched into fists, his irritation surging again. “It isn't your doing, Havers.” He thought to the troops who had been enjoying a brief session of R&R outside. “They should be the sorry ones,” he snapped. The Captain's mind was already running wild with punishment options. “I mean-!” His voice had raised a decibel. “What were they even doing with a cricket ball in the middle of winter?” He half-shouted. Ashamed, he subdued into a grumble: “Cricket is a summer game, for bally hell's sake.”
Patient Havers easily allowed his angry ramble, nimble fingers toying with the cricket ball held in front of him.
The Captain fell silent. He considered the situation before them. “I suppose my room will be out of action for a while then?” He asked stiffly.
Havers gave a wry smile. “Given that it is the middle of February and there is already a frightfully bitter breeze whistling through the hole... yes, I think it shall.”
“For bally hell's sake.” Whatever was he going to do? The Captain was a man who thrived on routine and stability. This was not a welcome disturbance.
“We shall work something out. In terms of functional bedrooms, sir... well, admittedly the options are limited.”
It was true. Though they were in a large country house, bedrooms had been converted for a variety of purposes, from offices to store rooms. Those which hadn't been cleared and repurposed remained out of bounds and locked, housing the belongings of the family who owned the property.
Havers continued. “For starters, we could set up a bed in your office for you to use. At least your journey to and from paperwork in the morning wouldn't be too long!” He allowed himself this little joke. No matter how furious the Captain was he couldn't be furious with Havers. He was quite sure that Havers knew this. “Or, I'm sure the men wouldn't mind squeezing you into one of their rooms if you liked. After all, what is one more man in those populated bunks?”
The Captain wondered whether his visceral reaction of terror to this suggestion was visible. He had never had a good time in dorm-style rooms, whether when at school or when in barracks. In these communal environments, had always been on the receiving end of tricks. Being subjected to teasing even in his place of rest had meant he had never gotten a break. He wasn't too sure that his health would put up with that nowadays. Not to mention how awkward the arrangements would be for him and his subordinates.
“Otherwise,” Havers continued. “There is space in my room should that be preferable. Entirely up to you, sir.”
The Captain's stomach jolted. For a brief moment, he thought this actually might be the worse of the lot. He contemplated the options before him. “I confess I'm not sure I can sleep in my place of work: I rather need my R&R place to be separate. As for the men... I can't imagine they would appreciate their CO snoring in the corner. Nor do I think either they or I want much to do with each other right now.” He trailed off.
“That leaves one option then.” Havers said it lightly, as though obvious and easy.
Easy, it was not. The Captain did not know quite how he would fare sleeping in the same room as Havers.
Despite his intentions to refute the generous offer, it would do to be outwardly polite: “Would that not be an terrible bother? It is your space, after all, Havers.”
He half-hoped Havers was about to say that he would mind awfully, that he couldn't imagine anything worse, that he would rather sleep outside in a tree. Then the Captain could agree with him and everything would be-
“Of course not,” Havers said. “It would be my pleasure.”
Ah. Well that hadn't gone to plan.
Accepting his fate, the Captain rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Alright, then. Erm, thank you. I shall- I suppose I shall have to telephone around and see whether I can get hold of a glazier. I shall let you know as soon as I am able to find someone to support to give you fair warning on how long I shall impose myself onto you for...”
“However long it is, it shan't be a bother, I assure you.” Havers gave him a soft smile. “I shall find a broom and set the men to work on clearing up the mess. We can see what they can do to temporarily patch the hole. If... that would be alright with you?”
“Affirmative.”
Havers nodded.
When Havers disappeared, the Captain headed for the phone. The best course of action was to immediately begin searching for somebody to repair the damage. That way, he wouldn't have to spend too long sharing a room with his lieutenant. Plus, he decided it was best to keep his distance for now, unable to bear being near members of the unit yet.
During his calling efforts, the Captain tried not to be too short with those who answered. He really did try. But he did snap at one chap who said he couldn't see to it for at least a month.
The man seemed to think that a war being on was an adequate excuse to have limited staff and therefore longer lead-times for repair-work. According to him, it made no difference whether you were the “uptight commanding officer of some base, or little old Agnes down the road.”
Fortunately, the phone survived the Captain slamming it down.
Eventually, he found someone who could help in a more timely manner: a glazier who could make it to them within the week.
Once Havers had returned from instructing the clean-up efforts, the Captain encountered him on the main landing. He cleared his throat at the sudden meeting and shared the timelines with him.
“Splendid.” Havers' lips formed the word carefully. “They are indeed very sorry, sir,” he assured him of the troops.
The Captain harrumphed. He was quite sure he could make them sorrier.
Regardless, the remarkable thing about Havers was the way he was a formidable leader before the men but gentle in the sanctity of the office. Just a little taller than the Captain and with long limbs, he had the ability to be imposing when stern, but endearingly like a foal learning to walk when docile. His dark almond-shaped eyes only contributed to the likeness of the latter. The duality of the man made him ever-fascinating.
Havers turned his efforts to setting up the Captain's new accommodation – quite the skilled chap, orchestrating multiple operations at once in a time of crisis. Standing tall against the backdrop of dark wooden stair rails, he began arrangements. “You could have my bed, sir, and I can kip on one of the camping cots from the cupboard.”
At the very thought, he near-snapped at Havers. “Absolutely not.”
The Captain wouldn't have his lieutenant sacrificing his bed, regardless of how bad his own back and knees got. Besides, he was quite sure that if he slept in Havers' bed it would cause him to positively keel over with the odd intimate proximity to the man it provided. A soft 'puff', and he would dissolve into grey fluff like a dandelion clock. Havers would wake up to a scene implying the pillow had had a mid-night incident.
So, together they resorted to retrieving a standard issue cot from the store cupboard for the Captain to sleep on. An inventory of these pop-up style camp beds remained stowed away for outdoor training exercises. It would serve as a temporary bunk to save them from entirely deconstructing and then reconstructing the Captain's room within a week. Efficient use of resources.
The storage room, bracketed by shelving units and piled high with crates of supplies, was blanketed with a thick silence. The sound of their footsteps echoed, magnified as they moved across the floorboards.
Havers deviated from their target of the cot beds piled against one wall and instead moved towards a stack of cardboard boxes in a corner. He squatted down with a nimbleness the Captain envied and thoughtfully extracted a large one from the bottom. Standing back upright, he held the box before him, blew off a cloud of dust and then offered it to the Captain.
“You may find this helpful to transport your belongings, sir.”
Havers' considerateness did not end here. Once they had freed a cot from the other side of the room, he insisted on carrying the cot up the stairs and then dusting it down. This left the Captain – box in hand – free to retrieve his items from his room.
On his way there, the Captain was quite certain he saw Private Banbury standing in a doorway out of the corner of his eye. But, by the time he turned to look and shout at him for lurking, the man had scampered.
Fortunately, all of the men had long since left his room by the time he arrived.
The place was already frigidly cold. The floor may now have been clear of broken glass, but the hole remained unpatched. In something adjacent to morbid curiosity, the Captain walked towards it to examine the damage.
The edges were sharp, ragged, and indeed suggested that a cricket ball had come to blows with the glass. This close to it, it was apparent how quickly the outside air was invading. The Captain wouldn't be surprised if they ended up having to stuff the gaps around his door with something to prevent the whole house being plunged into subzero temperatures.
With a heavy sigh, the Captain got to his campaign of packing up. He began filling the box with various belongings. He packed clothing items, and ablutions from the small bathroom he was lucky to have sole access to. He stripped his bed and piled up his bedding on top.
There were some belongings he opted to leave, including one of a more sentimental nature: his diary. He trusted Havers not to do anything untoward with it. But a remaining instinct from previous experiences told him it was best to keep things like that squirrelled away.
The Captain would be back in his own room soon enough, he could cope without it for one week. It was arguably fanciful nonsense, after all. In the meantime, it could remain stowed somewhere safe. So he locked it – and its secrets confessed across the pages in vague, coded terms – into a drawer.
By the time he had finished, the remaining items teetered on the top of the box. With a grunt, he hoisted it up – bending at the knees, he didn't want a hernia.
He took one last sweeping look at his room, from his comfortable four-poster bed – belonging to the family who owned the house and sanctioned for the unit's use – to the blasted shattered window taunting him. Box in hand, he turned and left, closing the door with difficulty behind him.
Outside Havers' room, he froze. The door was pushed up, so that it was just slightly ajar. Havers was expecting him, but should he knock? It would surely be polite to do so.
Like a flamingo, he lifted one leg to balance the box on. Steadying it with one hand, he raised the other to rap on the door.
Before he could make contact, it swung away and revealed Havers, peering at him like a curious puppy. “I thought I heard you-”
Still on one leg, the Captain wobbled.
“Careful, sir.” Havers grabbed his arm to steady him. He reached his other hand forwards to slide under the box and take its weight. “Here, I've got it.”
He very nearly fell over entirely for where Havers was touching.
Together they extracted it from atop the Captain's thigh, like they were in some ridiculous comedy skit.
“Ah, thank you, Havers.” The Captain's cheeks burned as he lowered his foot to the floor again. How did he get himself into these ridiculous positions? No doubt he was set to make a fool of himself many more times during the course of his and Havers' cohabitation. If anything, he always made more of a fool of himself in Havers' company than anybody else's. The man stopped him from thinking straight.
Only once both of the Captain's feet were firmly on the ground again, did Havers let his arm go.
There they stood, holding the box between them.
“Ah, sorry-” Havers carefully retracted his hands and allowed the Captain to take full possession of his belongings once again. Avoiding looking at the Captain, he turned to ensure the door was open and held his arm out in gesture that the Captain should pass through into the room.
Inside, the Captain set down his items if only to save his knees. He looked around. It wasn't too dissimilar from his own set-up – room for individuality wasn't a feature of their situation. The head of Havers' bed – also a comfortable double – rested against the same wall the door was on. Bedside tables stood either side with small lamps crowning them. The only other furniture were a chest of drawers and a wardrobe.
Havers also surveyed his own room as though seeing it for the first time. “This is all awfully... domestic of us.” He mused aloud. “A room and a bathroom to share...”
Possibly the luckiest of all the house's occupants, Havers had ended up with the ensuite. This felt all the more intimate than sharing an ablution room accessed externally from the bedroom.
“Quite...” The Captain couldn't say he was entirely loving this whole idea. He was a creature of habit who enjoyed his own routine and, crucially, his own space. When one's space was shared with another, one's carefully curated schedule was impacted.
Worse, the person he was sharing with was Lieutenant Havers: a man who made the Captain feel positively giddy purely by existing. How the Captain would hide this when so close to the man, he hadn't the foggiest idea.
He would have no... privacy to tackle his feelings, either.
Havers spoke again: “Right, let's get you set up and settled in. We shan't put you in direct line of the windows, I should think. A nasty draught comes through in the evenings, and we can't have you catching a chill. We may as well have left you in your own room otherwise!” He chuckled. “Alongside between the windows might be more preferable. I was thinking you could have this half of the room, and if we shuffle my bed just a tad nearer the door for ample space, then I could remain this side. What do you think, sir?”
Something about the thoughtfulness allowed the Captain to smile slightly despite the impending arrangements. “A jolly good plan.”
Havers beamed. “Let's get to it then.”
The Captain carried the box to the side of the room Havers had indicated. He put it back down on the uneven wooden floor. Squatting down with a large cracking noise, he resolved to begin unpacking.
Gym shoes, boot polish, pipe tin. He unstacked them all from the top and put them down beside him. It was as he lifted his scratchy woollen blanket out that Havers spoke.
“May I-?” Havers asked, moving in the Captain's peripheral vision to gesture at something.
When the Captain looked up at him, he was pointing to the folded up camping cot. He realised that Havers had been standing watching the Captain as he had begun unloading the box.
“Ah. Erm.” He hadn't really expected an offer of help. He had presumed Havers would see his offer of shared lodgings enough of a favour and leave him be to sort himself out. But many hands made light work. “If you would like to, that would be...”
“It would be my pleasure, sir.”
Whilst the Captain saw to his belongings, Havers got to work constructing the bed. Despite having his own endeavours to be getting on with, he chanced a glance now and again to his second-in-command marching around, adeptly showing the bed-frame structure who was rightful victor.
The cots were renowned for being quite the wrestle. It was commonly said that no man knew quite how to get that final bar in, so ended up with a slightly sagging bed. The Captain wasn't too sure how his back would fare sleeping on a semi-hammock if neither of them could get it correctly constructed.
Having found his ablution items, the Captain tore himself away to the ensuite bathroom. He lined the items up alongside Havers', careful to keep his in one distinct location and Havers' in another. After all, it wouldn't do to use one another's soap.
Upon returning to the bedroom, the Captain realised he need not have feared about his bed. Havers had set it up with the same admirable ease and efficiency that he executed everything. He had handled the poles marvellously and put everything into the variety of positions required to get the job done. The result was perfectly firm, no limpness in sight. He had gotten it up easily.
“There we are, sir,” Havers said, straightening up his long figure. His cheeks held a pink bloom from his efforts.
“Splendid work, Havers.”
Havers pushed the light frame across the floor to where he had demonstrated the Captain would sleep. “I shall leave you to make it up, if that is alright?”
The Captain nodded.
Normally when the Captain made his bed, he pulled the sheets particularly tight. He liked when they had a firm hold around him. It proved a challenge on this type of sleeping base. A shame: he would be less likely to fall off the narrow cot if the linen held him on.
He put his pillow into place and smoothed it out. Folding his blanket to sit on the end of the bed was the best he could do, given that crisp hospital corners wouldn't be possible.
Beside the made bed, he stacked his miscellaneous trinkets.
Only clothes remained in his box. The Captain lifted out the folded stack.
“Just those to go?” Havers asked.
“Indeed.” The Captain stood holding them aimlessly, unsure of where they should be put.
“Here.” Havers walked to the chest of drawers and opened one. It grated with the weight of the wood. “The ones on this side are all empty. There's also plenty of wardrobe space spare.”
Grateful, the Captain nodded. He followed through with locating his clothes to their new home, careful not to crease anything. Closing the doors of the solid wardrobe, he tried not to think too hard about his jacket and trousers hanging beside Havers'.
Everything neatly squared away, they stood back to admire their work.
“Marvellous.”
“Splendid.”
Despite it being Havers' suggestion in the first place, the Captain felt somewhat guilty imposing on Havers like this. Stepping before the man in the middle of the room, he stuttered his gratitude. He hoped to make up for it by just a morsel. “Thanks awfully for this, Havers, for allowing me space in your room. You really have gotten me out of a predicament...”
“Don't mention it, sir. It's our room now. By which I mean... for the time you are here, it is as much yours as it is mine.” Havers lifted a hand.
For a horrifying moment, the Captain thought Havers might clap him on the shoulder. Fortunately, he reached up to scratch his neck instead.
“Right,” the Captain said, rocking on his feet. “I suppose we shall have to get back to today's duties then.”
“Indeed. Although, first I must- I must-” Havers gestured in the direction of the facilities.
“Ah. Of course.”
The whole thing hit the Captain anew again. Oh God, they really would be washing in the same bathroom.