Work Text:
“Someone had a good night.”
Charles was making his morning tea when he heard the comment which was followed by a bunch of sniggers.
“The bug boy finally found a woman. I never thought I’d see the day.” The sniggering continued.
He knew who it was. He didn’t need to turn around to know that it was John and Reggie.
He used to try standing up for himself, but it had never worked. Now he simply didn’t bother.
Instead, deciding to focus on the task at hand, Charles added a splash of milk to his cup.
“Who is she? Someone we know?” Reggie enquired.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He told them as he picked up his cup and turned to leave.
They were right, of course - partially.
Monty had taken him out for a few drinks, and he’d had a good night. That wasn’t anything abnormal.
What was abnormal was Monty pushing him up against rainsoaked bricks as they tried to make their way home.
But how on earth did they know? Had they really stooped so low that they’d started following him outside of work, just so they’d have more things to laugh about.
“Don’t be shy. As I’ve said before, we all love dropping our trousers.” John looked too proud for his own good.
“Again John?” Their attention redirected away from Charles and towards Montagu as he entered the shared space.
“Montagu!” John greeted him with a slap on the shoulder.
“Who was she this time then?” Monty asked. Charles didn’t know how he put up with them.
They were just so… loud.
“Not John, Montagu. It’s the bug boy you should ask?” said Reggie. Charles felt all of his muscles tense simultaneously.
“Oh really?” Monty’s eyes met Charles’ over the other men's shoulders and he gave him a knowing look.
“I have work to do.” Charles managed, eyes on the floor, and he left them all behind.
“Did you have a good evening Charles?" Asked Jean as she brought him his second cup of tea.
“I did, thank you.” Jean stood by his side, watching him closely, as if she was waiting for more. “I met with Monty after work for a few drinks.”
“Oh? Really.”
“Yes.” Charles considered her expression. She seemed rather quite shocked. “Is that a problem?”
“No. Not at all.” She smirked. “Just, unexpected.”
Charles frowned. “He’s not that bad. He actually becomes more tolerable the more time you spend with him.”
“Hmm, I’ve almost found the opposite to be true.”
The door opened before Charles could respond and Monty greeted them both. “Charles, Jean.”
“Someone finally remembered where their desk was.” Jean teased as Montagu chucked his briefcase onto the wooden surface. “Charles was just telling me all about last night.”
“Oh really?” Monty considered them both with an air of smugness. “What did he say?”
“I didn’t say a thing.” Charles spoke quickly.
“Just what a lovely time he had and that he hoped it could happen again soon.”
“I see.” Monty stroked his chin in thought, his gaze never leaving Charles. “Jean, would you be a dear and grab me a cup of tea?”
Charles expected her to protest but, much to his surprise, she just nodded and left the room. The door had barely swung shut before Monty was at his side, standing where Jean had moments ago.
“Monty, I really didn’t say anything. She just asked about my night and I said that we went for drinks and-” He was cut off by a finger pressing against his lips.
“I know. I doubt you could tell her even if you wanted to.” Monty removed his finger and shifted his hand to caress the side of his neck instead, fingers dipping slightly beneath his collar. Charles couldn’t describe the way he was looking at him. It was almost like he was struggling to stay present, his lips turned up into a slight smile as he looked down at him.
“Do you think they know?”
“Hmm?” Monty blinked before following with, “know what?”
“John and Reggie. They were asking about last night. Whilst they always have something to comment on, not once have they enquired about anything outside of work. What if they saw us?”
“Charlie, they don’t know a thing. They’re just messing with you.”
“They didn't say anything else after I’d left?”
“The conversation moved on as soon as you left the room.”
“Oh good.” On reflection he didn’t know what should hurt more. The continued gossiping behind his back, or the fact that he was forgotten as soon as he’d walked out.
“Is it true that you want it to happen again?” Montagu asked.
“Well, yes. If it was something you wanted as well, of course.”
Monty beamed. “I can’t think of anything that I’d want more.”
Charles flushed at the other man’s words before realising the time. “I have a meeting with Colonel Bevan, he wanted an update.”
Monty gave his neck one final stroke before pulling his hand away. “Rather you than me. Good luck, my boy!”
He was standing outside Colonel Bevan’s office, files in hand, when Hester asked him, “Charles what were you doing last night?”
Why was everyone so obsessed with what he’d gotten up to last night? Hester was the third person today to ask about last night which was highly abnormal when he usually went through his days being pretty much unnoticed.
“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” He snapped, his inner thoughts vocalised, and Hester sighed.
“Here.” She handed him a round compact mirror, decorated with roses.
When he stared at her with an even more baffled expression, she opened the mirror and held it out to him. Charles took it from her and looked at his reflection.
He didn’t know what he was looking for. Granted he looked a little more tired than normal and he hadn’t put as much hair gel in today to avoid being late but otherwise he was his usual unremarkable self.
“You have something on your neck Charles.” Hester pointed out.
“My neck?” The older woman gestured to the side of her own neck and Charles moved the mirror to the correct spot.
“Oh god.” He felt his face flush instantaneously. Today suddenly made sense.
The mocking from John and Reggie, the curiosity from Jean and the look of hunger on Monty’s face as his fingers danced across his skin.
Peeking out of his shirt collar was a bruise in various shades of red, purple and blue. The area on show wasn’t particularly large but it stood out against his pale skin.
“Oh god.” He repeated again as the panic set in.
“You really didn’t notice?”
“It was a bit of a late start.” Charles said, shaking his head. “I didn’t want to be late.”
“I’ll be back.” Hester informed him before leaving him alone outside the office.
It felt like hours before she returned but he knew it hadn’t been. In her hand was a small purse and she pulled out a small box and brush.
She opened the box to reveal some kind of makeup. “Head to the side and don’t move.”
Charles did as he was told, grateful for a set of orders which he could follow without thinking. His breathing began to calm as Hester powdered his neck.
“There.” She studied her work. “It’s not perfect but it will have to do.”
Charles closed the mirror and handed it back. “Thank you.”
Hester nodded and packed her things away. “I would advise Mr Montagu to be more careful next time.”
“Monty?” How did she know?
“Ah, Charles come on in.” Bevan opened the door to reveal a very confused Charles. “The update I requested?” He prompted.
“Uh, yes. Of course.” He accompanied Bevan into his office, not looking back at Hester, too embarrassed to meet her gaze.
Charles felt mortified as he seated himself in front of the colonel’s desk. It was bad enough that most of MI5 knew that he’d been engaging in passionate affairs last night. But now this.
Hester knew.
She had somehow worked out that it was Monty who had left his mark behind. Monty who had whispered sweet nothings into his ear as his hand dropped lower. Monty who held him up as he saw stars.
If Hester knew then maybe the others weren’t as oblivious as he thought, maybe they were just better at hiding things than he was.
His hands were sweating, heart pounding. He wanted to curl up in a ball and hide, but the sound of files hitting the desk brought him back to the present.
“Right Cholmondeley, where are we with Mincemeat?”
Charles took a deep breath and forced himself to focus on Bevan.
“I heard that you and the team are getting on well.” What was the man implying? Could he also read him like an open book?
As his thoughts continued to spiral he couldn’t help but look at Bevan with wide eyes, the colour slowly draining from his face.
“Are you alright, man?”
“Does a newt fear death?” He mumbled to himself.
“Charles?”
“Sorry, sir. Long night.”
“Don’t let it become a habit. I can’t have two of you regularly out at all hours. This is too important.”
“Of course, sir. It won’t happen again.”
“Now where were we?”
Charles did his best to focus on the task at hand. He had never felt more embarrassed in this moment than he had in his entire life. The worst part was it wasn’t even 10 o’clock. He still had a long day ahead of him.