Chapter 2
That door has been hypnotizing him for the past thirty minutes for sure. Hans stands before it, almost ready to knock and walk in, but that feeling of being not-entirely-ready makes his insides squirm, and he just… keeps standing there in the hallway, watching that door and counting down from one thousand to stabilize his heart rate, which is probably over it’s limits at this point.
He gets angry at himself again. What are you, a coward? You are already here, there’s no going back. Get to the damn door and knock on it already! He can’t. Just like he couldn’t get Hanns von Purple Beurer out of his mind for the entire night. Although, half of the blame for that lies on the fact that his back once again decided to give him hell, and he couldn’t get rid of that gnawing sensation in the muscles no matter how many painkillers he swallowed during the night.
And what do people usually do when they can’t sleep? Hans didn’t know about other people, but what he was doing was thinking about those dark eyes that seemed to contrast so much with the fluffy eyelashes, he was thinking of that flirting smile that seemed to be playing constantly on the man’s lips, he was thinking of… him. Herr von Purple Beurer called him pretty so many times during those ten minutes Hans had lost count. And only there, lying in the complete darkness of his room and rewinding the day in his mind over and over, he realised that this man could probably also be called… beautiful? Hans was not sure. Matters of appearance had never held much weight in his mind, so he quickly pushed the intrusive thought away.
He had no right to think about a general in that way. General von Purple Beurer - in particular. That man probably had dozens of other, more worthy people to satisfy him. There was no place for a junior second-year cadet in his… heart? Hans turned to the other side, facing the wall, and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to finally fall asleep.
Pain gave him another sharp nudge on the spine, and he sighed. God, he’d give anything to feel the soft touch of Herr von Purple Beurer’s hands on his back, his hips - wherever he’d want to touch him, actually.
Hans checked the time: half past midnight. He should be fast asleep by that time, he has to get up in five hours, and here he is, not even close to falling asleep and turning from one side to another, while his mind gets more and more hooked on general von Purple Beurer. Yeah, like that was the most normal thing to think about for a junior cadet, Hans thought with a quiet sigh. He had to forget about him. He had to throw those thoughts out of his head before it would get too late, because it was clearly a dead end. He could never get close to someone like that. There was no, no chance.
He wasn’t even sure if he would actually dare to come down to general von Purple Beurer’s office the next day, because really, that man’s day is probably outlined to seconds, and there most certainly is no place for someone like Hans. Most likely, Herr von Purple Beurer wasn’t even being serious when he suggested that to him… Hans is just being silly, to consider that was an actual invitation.
Yet, eight hours later - here he is. Shifting uncomfortably from one foot to another and trying to muster enough courage to walk inside. Finally, after a few more minutes pass, and Hans realises he has at best half an hour before his shift starts and he can not afford to waste any more time, he steps towards the door and knocks on it carefully. His heartbeat speeds up, making his chest feel uncomfortably tight and heavy, and he half-hopes general von Purple Beurer is not there at all-
“Come in, come in,” he hears from the other side of the door, and he turns the doorknob with fingers slippery from sweat. The first thing he notices is the massive desk positioned right in front of the window. His gaze travels upward, landing on Blackberry, who is perched at the desk with his feet casually propped on its surface, while he himself is leaning on the back of his chair with a phone next to his ear.
Hans stops at the doorway, unsure if he is even allowed to continue going, because it feels a lot like intruding. Whoever general von Purple Beurer speaks to on the phone, that person seems to have aggravated him to the very core, because he irritably fiddles with the pen in his hands, tapping it on the table from time to time, and vigorously sways in his chair, to the rhythm of the voice on the phone. At some point, he rolls his eyes, and a barely audible curse leaves his plump lips.
“That’s enough. I don’t want to hear any more of that nonsense, you either fix this for me, or we are going to have some serious fucking problems, and I don’t care-”
He gets up from his chair and heads towards Hans, while again obviously being interrupted by someone on the other side of the phone. Regardless of that conversation quite obviously being not a pleasant one, he motions Hans to keep going, closes the door behind him and slips his free hand around his shoulders.
“Inside, sweetheart, inside, don’t just stand there,” he says in a low voice, taking the phone away from his ear for a moment. “Why don’t you look around for a bit? I just want to finish yelling at this cunt, then we can talk.”
Hans mouths a quiet “yes, sir”, still guided to the closest chair by Blackberry’s gentle hand, and he sinks into it, indeed eager to look around. He has never been in this particular office before - that one is for big shots like Hanns von Purple Beurer, who is probably the most influential person out of all the people of authority that have been here.
“I am telling you,” he hears from the side and he flinches, because Herr von Purple Beurer speaks all of a sudden, his voice rolling into a low growl and making blood freeze in Hans’ veins, “I am fucking telling you this is going to be a slaughter, Oswald. Not for the french. For us. Their spies have proven themselves to be more than capable, and I’m not sending my people to die just because you’re too narrow-minded to see a clear trap-”
Hans hears the man on the other side interrupt The Blackberry with something that sounds suspiciously like “Mind your place, Hanns,” and he sees the man’s face go white with fury.
“I did not,” he says, his voice slightly trembling with fury, “earn my position here for minding my place, Herr Mosley. I will act according to the military code and my own freedom of choice, and-” he gets interrupted one more time and slaps his palm against the table the very next moment, “I dare you to make this case public! I fucking dare you. Try me, Oswald, see what happens. If needed, I will bring the Reichskanzler's attention to this myself, and I’ll make sure he understands exactly why I’m doing what I’m doing.” He hits the hang up button without saying a word more, and he shakes his head irritably, tossing the phone onto the desk and away from himself.
Hans does not dare to break the silence, watching the general exhale slowly, closing his eyes, and all Hans can concentrate on is his eyelashes fluttering slightly, making him suddenly look so… beautiful. Now Hans knows that it is true, even though he had never before actually dared to think about this man in such a way.
“They want me to go slaughter my people and probably get beheaded myself - they’re gonna accept some light fucking criticism regarding that fabulous idea,” Hanns von Purple Beurer mutters, taking a few sharp steps across the room and throwing himself into his own chair with fierceful energy.
“They’re… making you go to some precarious operation, Herr von Purple Beurer?” Hans dares to ask, and the general gives him a curt nod.
“Exactly what they’re fucking doing, sweetheart, exactly. It’s a suicide mission. Looks like I will have to make it work anyway,” he leans back in his chair again, making it squeak miserably under his weight.
“You will go for it even though you know it’s a suicide mission?” Hans asks, furrowing, and an unexpectedly heavy gaze of the general lands on him from under his half-lowered eyelids.
“That’s my job,” he says simply and straightens up a bit, looking at Hans more attentively. “But that’s not why you’re here, pretty boy, right? You’re here for me to transfer you somewhere where they don’t make you drag heavy things around and treat you with some more respect, ja?” he winks at Hans and stretches his hand towards a big pile of papers on his desk, grabbing the closest one and looking quickly through it. “What was your name again?”
“Hans,” he says, observing Herr von Purple Beurer turning over the pages of the first pile in the stack.
“Shocking,” the general mutters under his breath.
***
How do they end up at the restaurant? Hans is not sure. He was transferred to the night watch - at least, on paper - which is so much nicer than his previous duties. And then Herr von Purple Beurer just threw in a casual proposal to go for lunch. Well, it was not so much a proposal as it was an “I am going to grab a bite, are you coming, pretty boy?” demand, and Hans - Hans was all over the place from that idea.
Not that he had any knowledge of how to act in a situation like that - again, not every day The Blackberry suggests something like that to a mediocre junior cadet.
And here they are - him, taking teeny-tiny steps into the lobby and shooting alert glances around, because they are in a restaurant so luxury it feels wrong to even breathe here. Herr von Purple Beurer does not seem to even notice the opulence of this place: he walks in like he spends every other day in a joint like that, and Hans can’t help but suppress the bitterness of another intrusive thought stating that this is The Blackberry, of course he goes to such restaurants every other day, for fuck’s sake.
“Which table do we fancy, sweetheart?” Herr von Purple Beurer asks unobtrusively, throwing a relaxed gaze around the room and seemingly also trying to figure out the answer to that question. Hans shrugs unsurely, making the man turn to him with a frown.
“Beautiful boy is not relaxing no matter what I try, is he,” he states quietly, his hand slipping around Hans’ waist and dragging him closer. “And here I could bet you enjoy my company as much as I enjoy yours.”
“I do!”
That was way too quick. Hans feels his entire face growing hot with embarrassment, and he tries to turn away, because this was too quick of a reaction, and he’s just a junior cadet, he can’t come across this clingy and emotional, he can’t actually care. He knows it’s probably too late for him anyway, because here he is, after an absolutely restless night, with his thoughts absolutely locked on The Blackberry.
He’s so stupid. Does he think he’s the first person to feel that way towards this man?.. There were probably dozens before him. And there are so many people right now, because Hans knows for sure that Xavier, for example, was in Her von Purple Beurer’s office just this night - at least, that was what he overheard at the cafeteria during breakfast.
“Ah, no, no, no, sweetheart, eyes on me, eyes on me,” Herr von Purple Beurer demands softly, taking a step to the left, and their gazes lock. “I am asking you once again to talk to me, okay? I can’t read minds - as much as I would love to get into that pretty head of yours. You seemed quite excited just a few minutes ago, and then we step over the threshold - and you look like you’re gonna cry. What’s wrong? Is it this place?” dangerous sparkles flash in his sight for a second. “Want me to shut it down and us to go look for something you like?”
Oh god, no.
“I love it here,” Hans says slowly, cautiously picking out the words, because this is the part where he has to speak and explain, and he is so not used to explaining - to understanding his emotions. He’s a junior fucking cadet. Soon to be a real soldier. That’s not what soldiers do. They don’t have emotions. At least, according to his superiors. Hanns von Purple Beurer seems to have a different opinion on that matter.
“Beautiful boy will have to speak more,” is all Blackberry says, tilting his head to the side and crossing his arms on his chest, with all his presence stating he’s determined to not talk this time until Hans decides to break the silence himself.
“I- I don’t know how to explain,” Hans says quietly, bowing his head and scraping the floor with his shoe. “When you said “lunch”, I wasn’t expecting a place… this fancy,” he finally manages along with a sharp sigh. “I just got a little… overwhelmed, that’s all. But I really like it here, I’ve never been to this restaurant before,” yeah, spoken like he’s been to any restaurant ever. General von Purple Beurer hums under his breath quietly, before he tightens his grip a bit around Hans’ waist.
“We’re not doing anything extraordinary here, Hans,” he says finally, his voice - suddenly so serious and quiet, contrasts drastically with his previous playful manner. “This place is just like any other. If you’ve never been to places like this - there’s a first time for everything, right? We’re just having lunch and are aiming to have a nice time. That sounds good to you?”
“It does,” Hans manages with a nod and points at the table right next to the picture window, “I like that spot.”
“Then it’s ours,” the man says simply, leading them both to it and calling the waiter over with a careless gesture. Hans feels his heart sink as Herr von Purple Beurer absent-mindedly pulls up a chair for him, asking the waiter about some changes in the menu. Hans doesn’t really listen to that, because it feels hypnotizing - the way he is able to have so many things on his mind and still find it in him to do all these little things. Like pulling up a chair for Hans while talking to the waiter, or gifting him a few encouraging words in the office, before returning to fighting with someone - sir Oswald Mosley himself, apparently - on the other end of the phone-call.
“Just hang on one second,” he hears the general’s quiet voice, before strong hands slip on his shoulders and gently slither down his arms, pulling him into a warm half-embrace. “Okay, sweetheart, we are being offered a special menu. Apparently, they’re overjoyed to see me here for, like, the fifth time in the past two days, I don’t know. What do you think of lobster bisque, truffle risotto and a bottle of red wine? Sounds like something a normal person would eat, or are they trying to make a fool out of me today?”
Hans can’t suppress a chuckle, going over that suggestion in his head. “I mean, I’ve never tried either, so I wouldn’t decline trying it today… There’s a first time for everything, right?” he says with a small smile, and even though he can’t see general von Purple Beurer’s face, he can practically hear him smiling in return, before turning back to the waiter.
“We’re taking that,” he says simply and then sits next to Hans, who automatically draws out a bottle of pills from his pocket. He doesn’t even think much about it, his hands just open the bottle and swing two pills into his mouth as if they have a mind of their own.
“What was that for?” Herr von Purple Beurer asks, watching his movements with an intense gaze.
“What? Oh- My back,” Hans says, shrugging, and shows him the bottle. “It was killing me last night, so I took that from the infirmary…”
The general hums quietly, glancing at him up and down, but doesn’t comment anything else, and Hans is grateful for that. He would lose his mind from embarrassment if he had to admit that his back got gradually worse after he spent the entirety of today’s morning just… standing in the hallway before The Blackberry’s office.
Hans closes his eyes for a second and inhales, trying to ignore the same gnawing pain that does not want to wash away lately, no matter how many pills he takes. When the waiter brings their order, he swallows another pill along with a sip of wine, nodding along to Herr von Purple Beurer’s talking.
This man does not stop talking for ninety percent of the time Hans has seen him. And Hans is all for it, because that is the only way he forgets about his pains - both in his back and in his heart, the one that makes everything inside him go numb for the past two days. Was it two days? Hans finds himself lost in Herr von Purple Beurer’s dark eyes and forgets the answer to that question. There were so many days, and all he can do during them is… think of that face. Those lips that curl in semblance of a very curt yet very tender smile each time Hans speaks. That sight that penetrates right through him every time the man graces him with a look. Everything. Everything about him.
Hans would give anything to stay in this restaurant forever - just sitting, just watching Herr von Purple Beurer speak, smile, ask him things - Hans doesn’t really think about those questions, he responds because he was asked, but his mind keeps wandering somewhere far-far away, somewhere… where it’s just the two of them.
There’s probably no such place, he understands in the middle of their conversation. There’s no place where they are together, and there’s no war, and no ranks or stupid barriers between them.
“Just what the fuck are you doing?” Herr von Purple Beurer cuts off his talking in the middle of a sentence, his eyes tracing the way Hans unscrews that bottle of pills. Hans throws a glance down at his hands that immediately clench around the neck of the bottle nervously.
“I- I don’t know, taking pills?”
“Yeah, for, like, the sixth time today?” Herr von Purple Beurer states, furrowing. “Is it that bad?”
Hans shrugs unsurely. “They stopped working at some point. I guess I just need to be taking bigger doses for them to work.”
The Blackberry grunts heavily before pulling his chair closer to Hans’. “Put that bottle down,” he suggests quietly, shifting so close Hans can practically hear him breathing. “Let me try,” he asks, reaching for Hans’ back carefully. “Let me try, beautiful.”
The feeling is mesmerizing - it makes Hans’ throat tighten a bit, as the heat builds up in his chest and he feels he trembles slightly as the man’s steady hands touch his lower back.
“You’re twitching,” Herr von Purple Beurer says quietly, immediately putting his hands away. “Am I hurting you?”
“No, no, you’re not, I’m just-” Anxious. Was that how Lieutenant Muller had described him? Anxious. Maybe another word for that would be scared, but Hans is a junior cadet, a soon-to-be-soldier and those are not allowed to feel fear, so he’s probably just anxious. Anxious that something goes wrong, and this precious moment - another precious moment Herr von Purple Beurer decided to gift him in just two days - will disappear like a puff of smoke, and all that is left will be… him. Hans. Junior cadet who had a misfortune to fall in love with someone like The Blackberry.
“I am trying to be gentle, sweetheart, but if I’m doing a bad job, you have to be honest,” he hears a low whisper in his ear, as the same warm palms cover his lower back one more time.
He shakes his head sharply. “You’re not. If anything, you seem to be the only one who can… make it all go away,” he whispers, leaning into his touch and feeling his entire body respond to the sudden comfort.
“Then why are you trembling?”
Anxious.
ANXIOUS.
He has no chance, with The Blackberry. He’s just kidding himself. He will never be enough, for someone like that.
Hans twitches and grasps at The Blackberry’s arm before he can even think this through. He’s just emotional, he’s just so… bitterly happy, he simply doesn’t want this to end.
“Okay, sweetheart.”
That is all Herr von Purple Beurer says before slowly covering his tightly clenched fist with his free palm. Their fingers entwine, and for some time they just sit like that. Hans is absolutely frozen on his spot, clutching the man’s wrist and staring somewhere straight through the table, because his sight is so defocused. Herr von Purple Beurer does not say anything more, he just keeps holding Hans’ hand, rubbing the thumb against his knuckles gently.
Hans can already imagine all the little quips and caustic remarks that the general could comment just because it would be such a Blackberry thing to do… He doesn’t hear any of those. At some point he raises his eyes and his gaze locks with the general’s serious and tense sight. Herr von Purple Beurer does not even think about making a joke out of this situation, Hans realises with relief, and thank god for that, because he would never forgive himself otherwise-
“Better?” Herr von Purple Beurer asks quietly after another moment, and Hans nods.
“I- don’t know how to explain,” he says under his breath and he finally lets go of Blackberry’s hand. Oh god, he grasped at The Blackberry’s hand, he actually allowed himself-
“You’re having trouble adjusting to all the new things,” Herr von Purple Beurer says simply, looking Hans straight in the eyes. “Right? That happens sometimes, I know. Do we want me to try again or not, sweetheart?”
“Let’s try again,” Hans agrees, feeling The Blackberry’s hands sliding down the muscles on his back and starting to gently massage the ache along his lower back. Confident hands gently massage his back, stopping from time to time and probing certain areas.
"Does it hurt here?" Herr von Purple Beurer clarifies with focus, rubbing circles around some spot. Hans nods, but he does not flinch away from the touches, and the man falls silent for a few seconds, carefully working through the tense knots under his fingers. “Sweetheart, any sharp pain, any strain or discomfort - and you tell me immediately, deal?” he asks and, when Hans whispers a quiet “Ja”, his hand presses into the painful spot, starting to massage it in the same circular motions.
Hans does not know how much time passes. It may be just a few minutes - it may be hours. He wanted an eternity to spend here, in this rich fucking restauraunt that only five-star generals can afford, in The Blackberry’s hands, a little dizzy from all the wine, completely melting in his hands - he has it now, and the time does not matter anymore.
He leans back and, as Blackberry’s hands stop for a moment to steady him, he feels his head slump against the man’s chest. He feels there’s something he has to explain, like he’s doing something wrong - although he can’t remember what exactly is wrong with this situation, he doesn’t remember that he’s a cadet, and this is Reichskanzler's right hand here in front of him, and that Hans’ rank is so not enough to love someone like that… He doesn’t remember all of that anymore. He mumbles something, feeling his eyes closing on their own, and he feels Herr von Purple Beurer’s hot breath graze his ear as the man whispers “It’s okay, sweetheart.”
And everything… swirls away. There’s just pleasure and calmness around them. Hans feels strong hands slowly embracing him into a hug so gentle it’s almost like Herr von Purple Beurer is afraid to wreck him by an uncareful touch.
“The beautiful boy had a restless night indeed…” Hans hears a thoughtful whisper before the void swallows him entirely.