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"Anyway, must dash, Jean awaits me at the Ritz!" Monty practically sang.
"Miss Leslie is ill at home, in bed." Hester deadpanned, barely taking her eyes off the meeting notes she was typing up.
Eager to still go out, Montagu looked around the room at his alternative options. He barely considered Hester and found his gaze landing on Charles. "Oh, ah... Charlie, you'll do." The young man was sitting at his desk which was piled high with paperwork.
“Me? I really don’t thi-”
Monty cut him off before he had the chance to turn him down. "Come my boy, champagne awaits! The table is reserved, the candles lit, might as well make the most of it, what do you say?"
“Uh.” Charles faltered and Hester paused her typing to consider the two men.
“We do need those receipts.” Hester pointed out.
“Good point, Hester! We need those receipts.” Monty agreed, and gave a mock salute to an imaginary flag. “Come on Charles, our country demands it!”
“Fine.” Charles reluctantly agreed and he began to file away his paperwork.
“Our drinks await!” Monty announced as he beelined for the door.
“Good luck.” Hester wished, before Charles followed Monty out of MI5 and into the busy streets of London.
“So, Pam, what would you like to drink?” Charles cocked his head at that, confused, before Monty added. “Don’t be shy, pick whatever you like, my dear. I’ll be off to war soon, and though we’ve only recently met, I want to make tonight something special. Something to remind me what I’m fighting for!”
“Oh, umm…” Charles rarely understood Monty’s mind and wasn’t sure if this was one of his strange games, or if he was being teased — back to being the ‘bug boy’ of MI5. He did trust Monty though, for better or for worse, and so deciding to try and play along, he ventured. “You did mention… champagne?”
“I did.” Monty’s smile became even wider as he flagged down the nearest waiter. “Your finest champagne please, I’ll accept only the best for this special occasion.” Their drinks now ordered, Monty turned all his attention back to Charles who was sitting across from him. “So how do you like it here?”
“Well it’s very… fancy?” Charles considered the velvet chairs, silk tablecloths and glass chandeliers that sparked above them.
“Fancy? It’s simply divine, splendid stuff! You’re in for a treat and that’s without considering the wonderful company you have.”
“Isn’t it a bit much, Mont- Sorry, Bill?”
“Only the best for my dearest.” Charles’ face flushed as Monty’s little finger brushed against the younger man’s thumb where their hands met atop the table.
“Ah, excellent.” Monty exclaimed, creating a bit of space between their hands and Charles could see Monty’s impatience as their server carefully filled their glasses.
“Thank you.” Charles smiled and Monty picked up his glass.
“To Bill and Pam.” Monty toasted and they raised their flutes. “The most passionate pair of lovers that this country has ever laid its eyes on.”
Charles put a hand over his mouth and tried his best not to spit his drink across the table. He didn’t think that would go down too well in this ‘splendid’ establishment, just like Monty’s comment for that matter.
“Am I wrong?” Monty smirked at Charles’ reaction and he took another sip of his own drink.
“Well- um.. You forget that we’re not yet… well, married.” Charles immediately took another sip of his champagne and the bubbles tickled his nose, causing him to sneeze.
“Not yet.” Monty reached out his hand to rest it on top of Charles’. “But, if you’d have me, I’d make you my wife and then we’d finally have an excuse to use one of the suites upstairs.”
Charles’ eyes widened at Monty’s somewhat scandalous proposal. Whilst he knew that Major Bill Martin was just another one of Monty’s fronts, a way to escape his own thoughts and feelings, there was a part of him that wished those words for him — Charles Cholmondeley.
“Sorry, that was very forward of me.” Monty spoke, pulling Charles out of his thoughts. “I just can’t help myself when I’m with you. You’re just so… you’re so — beautiful. I’d have you right here, right now if it wasn’t so socially unacceptable.”
Charles flushed and spilt a bit of his drink onto the pristine white tablecloth, which he immediately felt awful for. He proceeded to fumble over the spillage, pulling his hand from beneath Montagu’s, to grab the nearest napkin.
“Ah, there I go again.” Monty eyed Charles across the table. “Why don’t you take the floor?”
“Oh, sure. There was a new journal entry this morning, pertaining to the use of-” Charles halted when Monty raised a finger so he could talk.
“I didn’t know you read journals, Pam my dear.”
“Right, sorry.” Charles stalled for time by taking a sip of champagne. “You have lovely eyes.”
Monty raised his eyebrows, intrigued to see where this might go. “Go on.”
“And you look very handsome in your suit from… Savile Row.” Charles fiddled with the neck of his glass, lowering his eyes to avoid Monty’s hungry gaze. “I’m sure you will be very dashing in your uniform.”
“Oh I am, I will have to try it on for you one day.”
Thankfully, their waiter interrupted to refill their glasses and Charles didn’t have to form a response to Monty’s flirtatious remark.
The evening carried on as it started: Excellent company, expensive champagne and an exquisite setting. A night perfect for the two wartime sweethearts. Bill and Pam were two bottles deep when the ring box was put on the table.
“Open it.” Monty prompted and he smiled at Charles’ hesitation before he picked up the small red velvet box. Inside sat the most beautiful diamond ring, which sparkled in the candlelight, and Charles’ eyes lit up as he opened it.
“It’s beautiful.”
Monty cocked his head. “So what do you say?”
“I don’t follow.”
Monty gestured to the ring. “To getting married, Charles."
Charles didn’t know if Monty had meant to say his name when he asked him to be his wife. This evening had been all about Bill and Pam, after all. Spending one of their few remaining evenings together before their hero would meet his tragic fate.
But there was the way that Monty had looked at him throughout the night, the feel of their hands against each other and how their shins crossed beneath the tablecloth, that made him wonder if it hadn’t been a mistake after all.
Charles closed the box and placed it back onto the table. He didn’t know if he could answer, his mind was going a million miles an hour and it felt like the walls of this ridiculously large venue were closing in around him.
“Charles?”
Neither of them noticed the waiter approaching this time until he was already at the table.
“Do you think she'll like it?” Monty asked sincerely, as more champagne was poured.
“Uh, yes.” Charles nodded. “I think she’ll love it.”
Monty reached out to retrieve the box and he placed it back inside his jacket pocket for safe keeping.
“How about one more here and then we head back to mine?” Montagu suggested.
Charles didn’t know if he could trust himself around Monty, especially when it was just them, alone in his home. He was terrified he’d say something that would push Monty away, since this evening’s conversations had all been for the mission after all. And yet his words sparked a dream that he spent so long trying to suppress. One he knew he could never have, however much he wanted it. But it was Monty, and no matter where his mind was at the moment he found himself unable to turn him down.
Pam gave Bill a hopeful smile. “One more.”