If there's a mill, there must be a river

If there's a mill, there must be a river

Author: wanderingsmith
Started jun 2021 - latest update date jul 2021 -
Summary: the witch of November come stealin'
Or 'Get Gruber naked'
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: I ain't got no money, and nobody'd be daft enough to pay me for this. As it is thought, so let it be said; you make the toys, I play with 'em..

AN: Beta by Nyruserra, who puts up with my sudden dives into utterly non-current 'doms and 'ships with cheerful willingness to listen to me burble.. and still volunteers to beta

Goto Chapter 2

Chapter one
jun 16, 2021

AN:Rating will be earned in later chapter

Having manhandled Gruber into the barn, René had to wrestle the old doors closed so he could set the latch, grumbling under his breath, "Next thing you know, the Atlantic will send *snow* on this 'orrible breeze!"

Not hearing a reply from the lieutenant that usually had a comeback for every situation, René turned with a deepening frown, swearing to see him standing exactly where René had pushed him: shivering and white and staring at René with glazed eyes in the fading light 'and not glazed with lust, for once!'

He hurried over, reaching for the heavy wool uniform jacket that he could see was completely soaked 'Had they not learned anything during the *last* war?'. René flinched at the cold of it, "You are like ice!" He shook his head, fumbling the buttons with fingers that hadn't been warm to start with as he muttered, "I cannot believe I am saying this, lieutenant, but we must get you out of these wet clothes."

René could see that Gruber tried to grin, but his teeth chose that moment to start to chatter, making for a rather gruesome result, not to mention causing water to drip from the hair slicked to his skull like shoe polish.

"And I c-c-cannot b-b-believe I am-" he shuddered as René had to pull roughly to get the uncooperative fabric away from its gloved fit over his shoulders, and then down the arms he'd had wrapped tight around himself, "Arguing. B-but I will f-f-freeze even q-q-quicker!"

René grimaced, patting him on the shoulder in awkward reassurance after throwing the jacket out of their way. The soaked trousers were even more difficult to work undone than the jacket had been, and he most certainly did not think that they were noticeably looser than they had been the other times '*Times*! Plural. I ask you! *How* was this his life??' when he had... put his hand- 'Oh never mind!'

'They were most certainly looser. Even with being soaked.'

'But he was not noticing, of course.'

Unfortunately, while avoiding noticing anything about the half-open fly under his hands 'Oh what had he ever done to deserve this...', he happened to glance down and swore to himself.

René looked around, glad to see a good pile of straw against the wall opposite the door. Not much else, as could be expected from an abandoned building that hadn't been used since the tanks had rolled into Ardennes. No doubt that straw would be redolent with mould 'And let us not think of the mice!' He nodded to 'imself anyway, it would 'ave to do. "We will warm you up. Come."

He finally had to put an arm around Gruber's waist, where the man's own arms were once again wrapped, to get him stumbling toward the pile, and then gently pushed him down onto it before René got down on his knees in the dust to sigh exasperatedly at the tight, knee-high boots.

He grasped the toes and heel of one and looked up, "Lieutenant? I need you to pull, please." 'At least the man would not be leering at him for that, right now.'

Hopefully.

Rather than try to answer, Grubber nodded jerkily and adjusted his foot in René's grasp, and then pulled his leg out of the ridiculous footwear with reasonable ease, much to René's relief. The second boot was more stubborn, but then pulled off suddenly; releasing a gush of cold water over René's knee.

"Lovely." René choked his sarcasm as Gruber huffed; and then started to cough. "Alright, on your feet now." And considering the man could not manage to unclench his hand to grasp René's, he knew he could not expect him to undress himself. Not even the final details. René was quite doomed.

"No 'elp for it," he muttered as he reached for the trousers again, pulling them down to the floor, and then reaching for the- the wet and icy fabric -there was no question the man could not keep wearing such- that still covered the man's... Well. It was *René's* modesty that was about to be tested; he was quite certain Gruber had no objections to any of this 'Other than to this fiendish cold!'. Enough. René took hold of the underwear and tugged them down 'Not thinking not thinking not thinking -and *certainly* not looking!-'

...It really was very cold.

'*Not* that he had any way to compare!'

Once everything was on the floor, he stood quickly, grabbing the lieutenant's 'Oh. 'eck' the lieutenant's *naked* 'Dangerously cold, that was what he should focus on' hips to help him step out of the puddle of disgustingly wet material 'He most certainly did *not* notice the smooth muscles flexing- nonono, not at all!-'.

"Now," he let go, looking firmly into Gruber's glazed eyes 'The man really was not doing well to have not found the strength to simper at him a moment ago'. "Now stand still, lieutenant. You will not like what 'appens if you sit down on straw, right now!"

Gruber nodded jerkily and René took a step back to quickly take off his own pants, and the jacket that had gotten damp as the storm had come upon them, and then his shirt. Luckily his long underwear were both dry and in good conditions 'Wear holes would not only be embarrassing -and an invitation!-, they would be *cold*!'

"R-r-René?"

Normally that coy tone 'Or its non-shivering cousin, at least' would have nettled him, but just this once, René was glad the man had found the energy to notice enough to want to insinuate anything. Even if his teeth were chattering louder than Spanish flamenco dancers.

He picked up his trousers and clenched his own teeth in determination as he stepped back up to Gruber. 'How was it his life that he was voluntarily going to 'touch up' the German lieutenant who made such a show of fancying him? What had he done that was so evil as to deserve this?' "These will be loose, but it will protect you from the straw." 'As much as anything protected one from the stuff.'

It was even harder 'No! not *hard* at all!' to avoid looking or thinking this time. He had to hold the lieutenant's thighs 'No, he was *not* thinking that the man could give Yvette a 'run' for her money! ...Though he *would* need a shave first. -NO! nonono, he saw nothing and *certainly* felt nothing against his cheek', his bare -*cold*!- thighs, tightly as he lifted a foot to slide it into a trouser leg. 'Heavens be thanked for cold. Well, if it weren't for the cold they would not *be* in this situation, but- well. *He* knew what he meant.' He slid the trousers up 'Why was he looking there?? If Gruber caught him he would- well René would *certainly* live to regret it!' and then fastened them, and rolled the waist several times to tighten it enough to stay up a few minutes. And ignored the suspicion that that grimace he glimpsed on Gruber's face was a grin, under the chattering teeth.

Well. Perhaps the man *could* keep quiet.

"Shirt now." He grasped the waist of the lieutenant's undershirt, feeling more hurried as the wind slid through his own, much-reduced, wardrobe. It took gentle effort to force the man's stiff arms up to get them through the sleeves, ignoring his winces and growing shudders as that same wind obviously cut into the already-frozen skin René could feel on the backs of his fingers. Quickly now, he got his much looser, and dry instead of sodden and clinging, shirt onto the man.

"There," he sighed in relief, "Now you can start to warm up." As he spoke, he fished the wet shirt off the mostly-packed dirt floor and wrung it out before using it to roughly get the water out of the lieutenant's thinning hair, and then quickly wiped his own. At least they would both dry faster than, say, Edith did, with her heavy mop.

Gruber shuddered convulsively, giving lie to the reassurance, and René flinched, meeting the man's worried and faintly embarrassed gaze, "It will be alright, lieutenant. Stand there just another few moments." He hurriedly stepped up to the straw, quickly shoving and pushing at it, sneezing madly for a moment as he disturbed the layer dust covering it, and finally pulling more down from the pile behind, until there was a depression big enough for two men to lay comfortably enough 'If one ignored that one of those men fancied the other', with almost a foot of straw beneath, as well as all around, to insulate them.

He turned back and tugged the unresisting lieutenant 'Who he was quite certain had been ogling him as he worked' to him, and then helped him lay down into the makeshift bed 'More of a coffin than a bed, really', pulling off his wet socks as Gruber curled into a ball of misery, and making sure the shirt was tucked into the loose trousers to give as much protection against the yellow itch-factory. At the last, touching his frozen feet, René swore under his breath and hurriedly took his own socks off to slip them on the other man.

Ignoring Gruber's chattery thanks and the hands reaching pleadingly for him 'It was a sad day when the sight of a masculine hand reaching for him was actually very difficult to resist!', instead, he went back to the pile of soaked laundry, wringing and shaking everything out before laying it all as best he could on the crumbling remains of the wall of a horse stall, without any great hope of it helping to actually dry them by morning 'Freeze, most likely', but the attempt had to be made, regardless.

Then he hurried back to their pallet for the night on very cold feet, nodding thanks at Gruber for turning and shifting himself back to one side to make room for René to get in behind him 'More than he could say for Edith, quite often!'. He pulled a good thick layer of straw over to cover their feet and legs -which would probably be warmer than the old blanket on his bed-, and, finally, awkwardly wriggled himself down to lay on his side, setting his jacket to tent over their heads and shoulders, glad his construction was indeed deep enough for them to have room to breathe.

And now he stilled, left with no other delaying tactics. He now 'ad to do something... more dangerous than touching Gruber while the man was naked.

He sighed in frustration, 'Why could it not be Yvette who accompanied him to retrieve the paintings at the mill??' Of course, Yvette was far too familiar with a bicycle and would not have lost control of it in the underbrush. Underbrush they would not have had to attempt, since Yvette would not have been in danger from the communist Résistance they had spotted sneaking through the nearby woods. It was his usual ill luck that the lieutenant had ended his wavering trek by falling into the frigid river, rather than onto a pile of poison ivy 'At least that would have been a problem for the German doctors, not René!'

Feeling the straw shake from another of the man's convulsive shudders, René huffed 'The things he did for France!' and turned to face the man's back, then shifted the inch it took to 'Oh *why* was this his life??' wrap.his.arms.around.the.lieutenant's.The lieutenant who *fancied* him' chest! "You will warm up soon, lieutenant, it will be all right." Or it would be, so long as the roof did not pick tonight to finish collapsing!

He felt the jerky nod as Gruber pressed himself back against him, even trying to get his feet between René's, though René didn't blame him, remembering how frigid they'd been 'Though René's were not feeling any too warm, now'. He was also too busy shuddering himself at how cold Gruber's wet hair was on his arm and cheek, even through the undershirt René still wore.

It was bad enough that the man had fallen in the river; had it really been necessary for Mother Nature to break its threatening storm over them while they stumbled through the woods looking for cover?? After seeing Denise and her crew heading back to the mill far earlier than Michelle had told him to expect, he could hardly take them there to weather, well, the weather. He was simply glad old man Pierre's shed was still standing, and that he'd found it in the whipping wind and cruel, November rain.

Gruber's continued shudders made René frown, seeing as the back against his chest felt, if not warm, at least no longer *cold*. He tried to tighten his arms, only to feel what was most definitely a nipple -painfully stiff with cold, by the full-body flinch his touch caused-, poking his wrist. By the time he managed to wrap his hand around the lieutenant's where he had bunched his fingers together before him, René was worried the man would get frostbite before their little enclosure warmed up enough. Damn damn damn! This was all Michelle's fault, as usual.

"Lieutenant," he shifted back, only to shush the man when he whimpered and immediately followed him, "Nono, lieutenant, let me move back and, good, now turn over, carefully now, don't disturb our covers, that's it-" he did not have to say anything more to find himself with an armful of desperately burrowing -and frozen- German lieutenant.

It was René's turn to shudder as those frozen fingers wrapped themselves in his undershirt 'He could not claim the man was feeling him up, at least', and Gruber's cold nose rubbed into his neck, the rest of his front pressing a new wave of chill into René. "There there, Lieutenant," he carefully tugged more straw into their enclosure, since they were not going to need so much room, apparently, making a smaller airspace for the man's depleted body heat to warm, "It will be fine. I have been told my body is quite hot," 'On several memorable occasions, as a matter of fact', "I am certain the air in our little... coffin," 'He was *not* referring to it as 'their bed'!!', "Will warm up soon." He rested one hand on Gruber's head to warm the wet hair and ran the other briskly up and down the length of hard back that had just been starting to warm, trying to neither let it cool, nor pull the shirt out of the trousers.

"I h-h-hate cold. S-s-so much."

René huffed, trying to distract them both, "Surely this is no match for the Russian front."

Gruber snorted, jerking in René's arms, but at least not starting to cough this time, and somehow 'How shocking' managing to find an inch where they had not been touching.

"Y-y-you see why I- do not- want- to be sent- back."

René nodded, then though better of it when the straw rubbed into his cheek, "Um. True." You'd think the Germans would have learned from the Little Corporal's foolish attempt.

After a few minutes, he realized, much to his mild horror, that it was very strangely pleasant to lay in the finally-warming nest of old straw, listening to the howling wind -with no howling demands on him from his wife, his waitresses, the Résistance, nor even the Germans; not counting the chilled lieutenant breathing warm in his throat and clinging to him gratefully 'And surprisingly enough, not trying to touch him up at all...'.

Odd. But undeniably... pleasant. Itchy straw and all. It had been years since he'd spent any time holding Edith 'Or anyone else' so closely without there being a 'reason' 'Even a pleasant one' forcing him to pay attention. For all that even Louise was not nearly so 'well built' as the *man* in his arms, it was... not unpleasant to smooth his palms over a muscled back instead of a femininely soft one. Certainly not unpleasant to be warm while he waited for the walls to collapse on them.

Eventually, the lieutenant's shudders became rarer, until René felt him relax, no longer trying to burrow in, but instead settling into the straw under them, and onto René's arm, which had ended up under his neck. His hands stopped grasping at René's undershirt... and hesitantly slid to René's sides.

"René, I-" René raised his chin to avoid the crown of the lieutenants head as it rose. They were so close that he could actually see the uncharacteristic hesitation in the man's expression, even in the dimness of their hideaway, "I am grateful for your help, and do not mean to make you uncomfortable-"

René huffed, refraining from making a comment about what a change that was, slipping one hand to Gruber's nape to tug his forehead back to René's throat, "Hush. The storm continues to rage and your clothes will not dry soon. We should sleep." And anyway, it made sad questions try to twitter at him at the back of his mind to have the man admit he was aware of the reaction he caused.

He heard the smile in Gruber's familiar soft voice, "Yes René."

The hands stayed on his sides. Pleasantly large patches that were already starting to warm nicely.

He supposed he could stop rubbing the lieutenant's back, now that he was no longer shivering.

But he did not.

When a particularly hard wind made the building howl, Gruber shuddered, though René judged it an emotional reaction, rather than a return of his chill, and slid his hands all the way to René's back, plastering himself close enough to make René's brows rise as he looked down at the hint of scalp at the top of his head.

He must have felt René tense, for he muttered, "I truly hate cold," his breath making René shiver for a very different reason, suddenly and shockingly.

Trying to ignore the extremely unaccountable warmth gathering in his belly, René muttered the first thing that came to mind, "I did not think Germany was so warm?"

Gruber shrugged without releasing his tight embrace; their whole bodies were touching now, though Gruber's head on his chest meant they did not *line up* at least. 'Yes, *at least*; that was the proper sentiment!'

"Some parts are quite warm, even in winter. Baden Baden was... not particularly warm. But I was younger, then..."

René could not help the quick squeeze to the man's shoulders, hearing the hint of melancholy; and feeling the years creak in his own shoulder, even with the thick layer of straw cushioning it.

Pushing the aches of age from his mind 'Along with all other things trying to disturb him', Rene closed his eyes, determined to fall asleep before they ended up sharing *more* heartwarming anecdotes.

--

René flinched awake at the all-too-familiar sensation of someone blowing in his ear. It took several blinks to make sense of the darkness, and *straw*, and... oh.

He could just make out the glint of Gruber's smile and slitted eyes, facing him from so very close, somehow making René picture a drowsy, pleased puppy, "You truly do snore, my dear René."

More asleep than awake, René muttered, "Um. Yes. Well. My apologies, I suppose."

They shifted against each other at the same moment, looking for a comfortable position to go back to sleep, now that they'd been woken to feel stiffened joints, and then both looked up when the wind gusted outside, setting what seemed like every plank rattling like the dead. René's jacket remained undisturbed, at least, though he still grumbled, "Mad weather," as he let himself be drawn to rest on the faintest hint of familiar sweetness nearby.

There was a voice at the back of René's mind trying to remind him of something urgent. But there was nothing he could do while that storm lasted, and whatever it was, no one was here to demand it, and he was tired besides. And getting drowsier with the gentle stroke of fingers through his hair. He sighed happily, content with the warm, cozy little cocoon he was in; and the pleasant thump of a steady heart under his cheek.

"Sleep well, René."

--

Of course they slept late enough for the posse to find them, namely his wife and waitresses; and Michelle of the Résistance; and the colonel. And Mr. Alphonse with his small hearse to bring them all. He supposed he should be glad to be so popular that his disappearance was cause for such immediate action...

As the case may be, René had just begun to swim toward wakefulness: warm, comfortable, with a tall body wrapped snugly around him. Snuggling, even. René smiled as he snuggled back agreeably, pleased with the small moan this caused. And at first, the hand and leg tugging his hips closer to that lovely hard friction was absolutely delightful, drawing a groan from his own throat. But slowly, as he stroked his palms up that solid back, another hand tipped his head up, and warm 'If a bit thin and dry, but then he hadn't exactly brushed his teeth either' lips crushed onto his very willing ones, and he slowly woke to the realization of just what 'Who!' he was grinding himself against-

"RENÉ!"

They sprang apart, of course, as much as they could in their straw burrow, the cold of the air as his shrieking wife pulled the jacket-canopy off their heads was hardly needed to cool them in the face -and sound!- of the scandalized crowd having found -rescued?- them.

René had too many years of experience being caught for even *this* particular madness to stop his automatic defences from taking over, "Do not be foolish, Edith! The lieutenant fell in the river and would have frozen! And if I had let him freeze, the Germans would have killed me. Again. Is that not so colonel?"

Naturally, Edith was, as usual, buying his story, but he could see that the colonel was giving them both a cynically skeptical look, more than a little disparagement aimed at his subordinate, though he spared a dark askance look for René, "Oh, indeed. Certainly you could not... let him *freeze*..."

As usual, the lieutenant affected not to see the look or hear the insinuation. 'Must be nice.'

All it would have missed would have been the communist Résistance barging in and Denise challenging poor Gruber to a duel.

Chapter two (NC17): Manoeuvres
jul 12, 2021

AN: 1941 june 22 is start of russian front. so show would need to have started late 1941 or 1942 (for Gruber to have served well on the front)
so if 37 in 1984 and 1984=1942, then gruber born 1905, so 9 in 1914 and 19 in 1924
if 43 in 1984, then rene born 1899, so 25 in 1924

-s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x- WARNING -s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-s-e-x-

"Will this miserable cold never end??" René grumbled as the wind made the front door of the café threaten to swing open and let the incipient winter in. It had been a week since the first of these storms had caught him in the forest and he was already quite done with this November.

Edith grinned at him in passing, unaccountably cheerful, "At least we are making good money on warm wine!"

"That is- close the door, quickly!" he waved urgently at the colonel as he hurried in, hunched in his greatcoat and looking even more dyspeptic than usual.

"If this continues, I may volunteer to go work for Mussolini! This is almost as bad for my rheumatism as that dratted English rain would be! When is this going to end, René??"

"I do not know, colonel. It *is* winter." 'Unfortunately.'

"Indeed. Get me some wine!"

"Of course, colonel, here you are. Warm wine for this miserable weather."

Say what you will about his wife, Edith did understand serving customers. Too bad she did not also understand entertaining them.

"Thank you, madame."

René served the two wines on his own tray to a couple of foot soldiers, looked around to see that no one else needed anything for the moment, and stopped by the colonel's table to ask casually, "Is lieutenant Gruber not coming?" Just as captain Geering before him, it was rare not to have Gruber accompany his superior for an after-work drink. Even if he had always passed on the after-work cuddles.

"No," von Strohm smirked as though to share his glee with René, though he'd spent the last week giving René dryly knowing glances at annoying intervals. "*He* is out on these manoeuvres of the general's."

René looked outside with wide eyes, "In *that*??" This time there truly was supposed to be flurries coming.

The colonel gave him an affronted look, "Of course. The German army can go forth and conquer through anything!"

René gave him a dry look, "Even the Russian front, yes. But-" He bit his lip before he could say aloud that the lieutenant hated the cold. Obviously the German army would not care. And the colonel even less so.

'René should also not care!'

He tried to put it out of his mind. The man had been the one to shout the order to shoot him, for the love of god! And he was most certainly far from a child. 'Nothing child-sized there, no. ...Not that René looked! Of course he didn't! ...But something had certainly poked him.'

And yet he still found himself staring at the wine warming on the stove and finally throwing his arms in the air and setting another pot to boiling water as he hunted for the big jug that they used to carry drinks when they catered. Once it was full of hot water and tea bags, he poked his head into the café and hissed at Leclerc, ogling Yvette from his slouch on the bar, "Leclerc!" he jerked his head toward the back room.

--

The next day's early morning crowd was just beginning to drift in when René stepped out of the kitchen to find the lieutenant leaning tiredly on the bar, driving goggles at his throat, steel helmet and his 'shooting' gloves at his elbow, generally dishevelled and red-eyed. With his arms wrapped around his middle and that greatcoat tented over his shoulders, very much as though a quilt was desired. René might have dismissed the general impression of stoic discomfort as a product of his overactive imagination, if it had not been for something in the lieutenant’s eyes.

He looked miserable.

'Since when could he tell when the lieutenant was uncomfortable but trying to hide it??'

"Lieutenant! You are here early."

Gruber turned his head to watch him approach with a tired smile, "Late, for me, René. I was heading to the château after leaving Clarence at his billets when I noticed that you were already open, and I thought I would stop by and thank you. And bring this back." He leaned down and brought up René's jug, his smile growing a little stronger, a little warmer, a bare touch of purr entering his voice, though René had known he was asking for it, "It was *very* kind of you to send it. Though you should not have sent your man out during curfew."

"Ah!" René took the jug, returning an uncomfortable smile and shrug, "So Leclerc was able to find you?"

"Indeed. It was so nice of you to think of me."

René knew that, normally, those words would be dripping insinuation, and be accompanied by a seductive look of invitation. It was likely simply a measure of the man's exhaustion that he sounded almost humbly grateful, instead, and René could not help responding with sympathy, "You look very tired, lieutenant. I hope you do not have to go report for duty, now."

Gruber winced at the thought, sagging back onto the bar, gaze still on René, but drooping half-closed, "Indeed not. I am not expected until tomorrow morning."

"Ah. Good. Can I get you anything?" the door rattled with the wind, "I'm afraid we do not have any wine warming yet, but more tea perhaps?"

Gruber tipped a little-boy smile toward René, leaning close enough for René to see very pale stubble on his usually clean-shaven jaw, "That would be lovely. And I would truly appreciate a cognac, if you please?"

"Oh of course," René hurried to reach for the lieutenant's favourite, shouting over his shoulder, "Yvette! Tea for the lieutenant!"

"Thank you, René." Another whistling rattle of the door had him hunching in his greatcoat with a miserable glance outside, followed by a rather hopeless drowning of the drink René handed him.

When Yvette slid the tea in front of him with a friendly grin on her way to serve two new tables, René watched the lieutenant 'Why was he not watching *Yvette's* retreating figure??' as he wrapped his hands around the cup, and closed his dark-ringed eyes in the steam. He should leave the man to warm 'imself, and attend to his customers.

"Lieutenant..." Gruber immediately looked back up at him, that too-familiar, eagerly-pleased look making René once again uncomfortable, which he tried to shrug off, "If you do not have to report, you could avoid going back out in that," he jerked his chin at the suspiciously thick splats of rain that had just landed on the café window, "And go upstairs to one of the rooms to get some sleep."

He almost regretted opening his mouth when the lieutenant’s eyes widened perceptibly at the offer 'Oh why was he encouraging the man??', "Oh, that would be... most pleasant, René. Thank you."

René nodded, berating himself silently as he turned to do inventory of his supplies for the evening while he waited for Gruber to finish his tea.

"Do you know," René looked around at the quiet words, catching a distant look on the lieutenant's tired features, "When I first went to Berlin, I would regularly stay up all night, and still be at work with the sun?"

René huffed, smiling wryly, "And how long ago was this?"

Gruber shrugged, a small smile twisting on his lips as his gaze came back to René, all too earnestly fond, "Not so long after the last war."

Unsurprised, René took a moment to think back to his own frolics in those days, but then shook his head, not in the mood to start retracing the past 'The present has enough darkness and challenges, no need to borrow more.' Instead he smirked gently, "Ah. So a *few* years ago."

In the middle of a swallow, Gruber's sudden chuckles almost resulted in an unfortunate mess. 'Which was no reason for them to be standing there grinning at each other!'

As Gruber put his cup down with finality, René nodded and headed for the stairs, hearing German jackboots hitting the floor far too close behind him -as expected.

"Here," René opened the door to the nicer 'For all that *that* meant in these times' spare room, stepping in to make certain it was ready for use, and to close the heavy drape over the window. "Furthest from the piano. It should be quiet enough to sleep, at least until tonight."

He turned, wryly unsurprised to find the man standing bare inches from him in the small room, greatcoat haphazardly thrown on the bed instead of taken to the chair on the far side, and tunic collar already undone 'NOT enticing, nonono. ...He had *never* stared at that vulnerable little patch of skin...', though lacking the provocative smile he would normally have sported in any such situation. "And no snoring captain."

Gruber gave a brief grin, then his eyes heated with more interest than he'd shown most of this morning, "Is there any chance of a snoring Frenchman?"

René rolled his eyes with a snort, "I can send you Yvette, if you like."

His intensity gracefully fading back, Gruber shook his head with a teasing chide, "René."

René could not think of anything to say to that that would not land him further in it, so he jerked his head down the hallway, "The bathroom is that way if you'd care to freshen up."

"Thank you again, René." The lieutenant reached out and gently squeezed René's shoulder before stepping back, "For everything."

René grunted, trying to ignore the sudden memory of that hand stroking high on his thigh.

He slipped between Gruber and the bed, almost clipping the hat and goggles carelessly thrown on top of the greatcoat, and then backed out of the room, steps clumsy as he saw the man reach for the open neck of his jacket to undo the next button 'Of course while staring at René!'

He was about to go down the stairs to attend to his customers like a proper café owner when René had a thought and froze. 'Oh why must he think of such things??' He could simply forget... Instead his head drooped as he swore under his breath and turned toward his and Edith's room.

He made certain the bathroom door was still closed before sneaking into the lieutenant's room to drop the material in his hand on the old and worn bedspread 'Their straw blanket might well have been warmer', only to jump out of his skin when he turned to find him watching René from the doorway with a pleased smile and damp wisps of hair straggling onto his freshly-washed forehead; it gave him a boyish look belied by the receding hairline 'And that patch of missing hair when the man turned away, younger twin to one René had encountered on his scalp too many years ago', and yet matching his sometimes-schoolboy behaviour. Not that he didn't have his -brief- moments of knowing suavity, as well as professional competence. "Lieutenant!"

"René." When had hearing that silky iteration of his name become soothing rather than disturbing?

"I-" he jerked an arm towards the bed and the pile of well-used clothing crumpled on it, "Thought you might, perhaps, prefer to sleep in something you had not just spent a long day in while in a ...what was it you said? A hot tiger tank full of soldiers?"

The all-too-familiar appreciative smile melted into a grimace as Gruber straightened from his usual flirtatious pose -always more... distracting when not the fully-buttoned officer-, "Very much so. The worse of both worlds: frozen every time one must peek out, and yet sweaty from the enclosed proximity." He brightened as he stepped closer and recognized the long underwear on the bed, "You are always so very thoughtful, René, it is truly most touching."

"Please," René waved the words away, even while mincing himself away as well, "Think nothing of it. Nothing at all. Please."

Gruber nodded, with perhaps the lightest hint of wryness, rare acknowledgement of René's response to this strange chase he had never truly been able to dismiss, "Have a good day, René."

René nodded back, relieved 'Yes, *relieved*! He had no reason to hesitate for a single moment' at his escape, "Sleep well, lieutenant."

--

The morning rush kept René properly distracted for several hours. Unfortunately, it was followed with that brief lull before the lunch crowd appeared, and he was left at the mercy of the sound of the wind shaking the café, and the memory of sleeping in straw... and waking up- 'Oh 'eck'. René hung his head, staring blankly at the bar as he continued to shine the same glass over and over, ever so pleased that he always wore an apron. Though it hardly helped to hide the situation from *'imself*, which is what he really wished for. 'What was wrong with him??'

Once he'd convinced Yvette that the groan she, and the rest of his 'friends', had heard was because a mouse had bit him in all that straw, she'd been more than willing to show him how worried she'd been when the storm broke and he had not returned.

'She was *very* worried, by the way.'

And yet... The next time she'd tried to lure him into the cellar... René still could not quite understand himself, but there was no denying it: he had indeed ignored her seductive glances.

And instead continued to banter -in his darker moments, he wondered if calling it *flirting* might actually be ... accurate...- with the lieutenant lounging against the bar with his usual sultry smile.

Banter! With a German lieutenant! 'A *male* lieutenant; Leaning over a bar with Helga would have been entirely reasonable'

Certainly, that first evening, he had been extremely relieved that Gruber did not bring up what they both knew they had been doing when they had been interrupted. Well. 'Knew' might be an exaggeration. He had absolutely *no* idea what could have gotten into him to- 'Well, there *was* the fact that he had barely been awake...'

At least for the first second.

But just between 'imself and 'imself, René had a great deal of difficulty buying his cry of soiled innocence once past that first moment. He was not an inexperienced boy. Women did not have such lovely hard- well. It was very pleasant to grind 'imself into a woman's warm, welcoming pelvis.

But there was no denying it had been very lovely to grind 'imself against something hard; and hot even through both their clothes 'Well, both layers of René's clothes'. And he could certainly not pretend that it was because he lacked regularly available alternatives!

And then there was Gruber's behaviour since. He still openly flirted with René, but... it was not so... exaggerated. Less as though he were playing 'for the room'. ...Sincere, almost. René could not remember the last time he had been... 'sincere'. He was -frequently- sincerely attracted. Interested. Willing, certainly. 'By the evidence, even when in a straw bed with a *man*!' But when was the last time he had sincerely... 'Oh 'eck, surely he could not call it that...' sincerely 'wooed'?

It was... far more difficult to resist than the brazen offers the lieutenant used to regularly pepper their conversation with.

And the less said, the better, of the moment he had caught himself staring at the man's shoulders as he walked away that first evening, his palm... *itching* 'For the love of god what was wrong with him??', at the way they filled his uniform. Certainly as well as Helga filled her own jacket. But it was the shifting of heavy muscles that his hand was remembering, not... plump boobies.

'Not that he objected to boobies! Certainly he was not *that* far gone!'

But... Gruber might be 'artistic'; his hands were not. They gripped quite... *confidently*. Not that René had ever *enjoyed* the way they had 'slipped' most firmly while stuffing paintings and sausages 'This war had much to answer for!' into his trousers. Of course he had not!

René growled under his breath, stomping into the kitchen and out the door into the freezing wind before he did something more stupid than every 'airbrained stunt Michelle and the Germans had ever driven him to.

He was debating undoing his shirt to make it a proper cold treatment 'Perhaps he would get sick, and then he certainly could not do ridiculous things. And as a bonus, no one could make him risk his life!', when he heard steps enter the room at his back, to which he had neglected to fully close the door yet, and then heard the larder door open and close. Then, much to his relief, the steps headed back into the café.

"I am going to the butcher!"

René did not respond to Edith's departing shout, but he saw Mimi 'just barely', who had been feeding the chickens, turn toward him with her manic grin.

And he abruptly turned around and hurried inside.

He was halfway up the *stairs*, however, when his mind caught up with his body. 'What was he *doing*??'

'There was a willing woman who passionately wanted him, *down there*!'

He wanted to hit his head on the wall to silence the little voice that leered that there was someone in that room at the end of the hall that desired him passionately as well.

Surely between those two choices there was only one true option...

--

He expected Yvette to ambush him, especially when he walked by the airing cupboard. He could not decide which voice in his 'ead was winning: the one that cheered he had made it past the gauntlet, or the one railing that he had gone 'round the bend to be thinking of it as a 'gauntlet'!!

And then he was standing before the yellow door, noticing that yet more of the paint was flaking off. And wondering if it would be worth having his mother in law start to bang the floor demandingly, just to take away the need for him to actually... be choosing to open the door and quickly slip inside.

'He was mad he was mad he was mad.' But he was also watching Gruber sleep, utterly relaxed as he never was when awake; and as it had been too dark to see, in that storm-rattled barn when his voice had got so drowsy and contented. The thin pillow folded and hugged to his chest... the way René had held *him*. His soft hair managing to stand on end- and his eyes slitting open.

'Oh 'eck. He was in it now.' Perhaps if he kept quiet, Gruber would go back to sleep-

"René?" The voice was hazy with sleep, but without any hint of rebuke. René had not the slightest chance of convincing himself that he was unwelcome.

"I... had a few moments and- well-" He could not explain it even to himself; what chance did he have to find words for it??

Gruber took a deep breath, and his eyes opened, more awake now, and shifted until he lay on his back, the more easily to watch René. "René, I- am glad we have this moment alone," he frowned away for a moment, and René thought he was about to sit up, and wondered at the serious tone 'Oh surely not another madcap mission; why would he bring it up now? Oh, wait, no. Yes, a mission to discuss would be lovely. Right now, yes', "I should have apologized before now for taking such advantage, that morning, in the straw. I'm afraid... I rather assumed I was having a lovely dream."

"Oh. It was..." René shrugged, looking away in his turn and mumbling, "You were not the only one." And why had he said that?? This was no time to forget how to prevaricate!

Gruber's faintly apologetic look turned inquisitive, and this time he did push himself up to his elbows, definitely more awake now, as familiar guileless eagerness appeared in his still-tired features, "Oh? And... *was* it... lovely? For you too?"

René looked at him, those solid shoulders drowning in René's shirt, his eyes still relaxed from his brief rest, the bedspread falling away past his waist. Open invitation in every visible line of his body. He did not ask if the man often dreamt of René.

He could not bring himself to admit he was quite certain he'd woken several mornings since with the phantom of a very *male* body under his.

His hands twisting in his apron, he was distantly aware that he must surely have more finesse than this, considering all the women that chased him. 'But using finesse would mean he *desired*- oh 'eck' "I cannot stay long, Edith will return from shopping soon..."

Looking as though he were holding his breath, Gruber slowly held out a hand, eyes wide and not one awkward word sputtering from *him*.

When René, entirely without a reasonable thought, stepped forward and hesitantly slid his fingers into that open palm, Gruber's eyes slid shut a moment, something between shock and ecstasy flowing over his face; an odd trick of the dim light over high cheekbones and almost-invisible stubble, no doubt. His eyes reopened as he took a deep breath, looking past René, voice breathless when it came out, "Is the door locked?"

René swallowed hard 'Are you truly doing this, René Artois?', then squeezed Gruber's hand before shakily turning to go lock it. The dropping of the latch seemed very loud. Like the final hammer on a coffin. René's lips twisted 'Well, he might as well admit that that straw coffin had turned out quite... pleasant'. At the least, either he would get over these strange fixations that had crept up on him. Or his next dream would last longer. 'And leave him less hungry... surely...'

When he turned back to the bed, Gruber had sat up fully, the blankets rumpled almost to his knees, and was pulling the shirt over his head. Then he held his hand out again, looking young, and earnest; though no more innocent than Yvette. Even René had heard of Berlin after the last war; he was quite certain young Gruber had made good use of the freedom.

Either practice, or the distraction of smooth shoulders he'd just spent a week- 'Well. Lusting after, if he really wanted to be... sincere' made it much easier to reach out and grasp for this strange new experience, quickly using his toes to push both of his shoes off; and then allowing himself to be pulled down to the soft bed as Gruber shuffled over to make room, and then smoothly leaned over René.

Perhaps Gruber had noticed his interest -René had never been skilled at truly hiding the slip of his gaze 'But he had a quick tongue to distract those that caught him at it; or he would long since 'ave gotten 'imself 'anged!'. Certainly laying his firm 'Not to mention sleep-warm and bare', pleasantly not-young body down atop René drew René's hands up to those flexing muscles like moths on a flame, thoroughly distracting him from the hesitation that should have jolted through him at a half-naked man -a German soldier!- so close as he lay on a bed.

"Oh, René."

The shiver that the slide of his palm caused made René hum with pleasure, uncaring of the lieutenant's forearms coming down besides his head in a cage of pale flesh. And then thin lips pressed to his, as warm and enthusiastic as he'd woken to in all that scratchy straw, parted and easily enticing René into responding with matching ardour. Gruber's hips settling squarely over René's barely registered through the wild kiss taking away his breath.

Instead of a bit of lipstick to wipe away, his cheeks were going to be chaffed, and frankly René should stop this madness; should not be digging his fingers in and relishing the rough touch sliding through his hair to grip his skull 'As though he had any desire to go anywhere but to press back into those hungry lips, prickly stubble and all...'

René groaned, automatically responding to the passionate exploration of his mouth, sucking at the teasing tongue taking more liberties than the man's hands had ever attempted. Just as automatically, he started to roll them over -only to discover the lieutenant was entirely capable of resisting René's practised push. And how that could possibly be arousing he simply did not know, but he could not deny the rush of lust at the feel of the hard body keeping him in place- to be kissed desperately 'By a man, yes, he was aware. He owed Yvette an apology for the last time she caught him on a day he did not have time to shave' As to that wide hand sliding confidently under his bum to pull his thigh around Gruber's... René moaned into the kiss, awkwardly curling his leg around the man's to pull his cock tight against exactly what he remembered 'One could possibly say what had been 'haunting' him'. And swallowed the soft cry Gruber gave in response, rocking his own hips into René's as he slipped the hand back to squeeze his bum repeatedly.

And it was possible 'Remotely!' that he could get used to at least *this* very male body on top of his. And there was no denying Gruber knew how to do this. Between a week of dreams 'And unaccountably avoiding Yvette and Mimi' and the freedom to kiss and touch as he liked, behind a door that the women, and the rest of the Germans, were unlikely to open until they'd searched everywhere else, 'And Gruber had, perhaps, been having another lovely dream just moments ago?' it was not long before René very reluctantly made himself pull back to gasp, "Not much time, lieutenant-" He could not remember the last time he had actually been free to take all the time he wished with a lover. What would it be like to undress fully, to kiss, and stroke, and slowly grind together, warm flesh slick and sliding on warm flesh, with no agenda but to find every ounce of pleasure in each other? ...And go to sleep knowing they could do it again when they woke... 'As much a dream as this war ending'

Gruber sat up with noticeable reluctance, and grinned with rather wild glee as René groaned at the sudden weight shifting on his groin, "Call me Hubert, please." He reached down to undo René's shirt while René was distracted by the freedom to touch all that passion-heated flesh leaning over him -much more pleasant than that the frozen chill he remembered handling, not to mention the sight of something of Gruber's -'Uber- that was *certainly* not cold anymore and was instead poking his borrowed underwear out impressively 'And wetly... No. No he was *not* licking his lips. Absolutely n-... Well they did not have time anyway!' And perhaps René didn't help things along when he simply could not resist fondling 'A little hesitantly, to be sure' the stiff shaft, which noticeably made 'Uber's fingers go still -or at least, stop opening buttons- and René had to lean in quickly to lay a rough kiss on him, lest those gasps turn loud, and René made himself let go, though he fancied the look 'Uber gave him reflected not only need, but a good dose of frustration at having to hurry. And be quiet.

'There were going to be mentions of a private room with thick walls in the near future, René was quite certain. He was a great deal less certain he could think of arguments against it.

René's apron was belatedly dealt with along with his shirt and undershirt, and his trousers and both their long underwear fumbled open amid 'Uber unabashedly enjoying manhandling a very strangely willing René, and muttering rough 'And ridiculous. Even the girls didn't go so far' compliments, and dropping a kiss around where his sternum no doubt still was 'That should make him hot with *embarrassment*! Not with this tightening need...' And when 'Uber laid back down onto René, tugging the sheet over them against the very real chill, René was the first to tip his chin up to re-capture that kiss 'And stop both their moans at the lovely skin to skin contact from echoing through these dangerously thin walls', and their hips immediately started rocking together, each focused on finding pleasure before *something* happened again.

It would be embarrassing that René had been dripping arousal since that aborted roll 'My god, he was as bad as the girls! Next 'e would be tricking 'Uber to the cellar for a cuddle in the middle of cabaret! ...Um. That was not a bad idea...', but he was too busy relishing his slippery press into a smooth belly. And clutching at 'Uber's unyielding shoulders, pleasure fizzing through him that he could not deny came from feeling a hard column of heat pressing into his own belly, and the streak of slickness it trailed on René's skin with every thrust.

"Here, let me-"

René groaned a protest at losing his perfect spot, but then a rough hand wrapped around him, and then pulled that hard heat off his belly to press tight against his own, and it hardly seemed to take a minute of heavenly, so-tight pulls before he felt that other shaft swell against him and a slick of liquid fountain over him as 'Uber cried out into René mouth and collapsed, wet lips and panting breath sliding to René's neck.

He did not wait to see if 'Uber would keep his grip; René quite simply could not help sliding a hand down to the man's flat bum and pulling him tight to grind his very wet cock hard into 'Uber's belly again, the pleasure so close he could taste it, and it only took a handful of desperate rocks and at the last he closed his teeth on the nearest bit of skin, feeling a dangerously strong wave of pleasure about to make him shout.

---

The nasty storms off the Atlantic had finally petered off. It wasn't exactly warm, but it *was* beautifully sunny. And even dry.

And René braced himself as the colonel and Gr- 'Uber- 'No, not 'Uber when he is in company. Gruber will do' *Gruber* walked into the café.

Somehow, the squeaking bed had *not* drawn a doorway full of 'friends' -or enemies- to interrupt. They had caught their breath, and settled for a few minutes of silent, very messy, cuddling; René was surprised to find that the slim lieutenant was nonetheless quite a bit heavier than Yvette -not that they had ever laid together on a bed-, though not enough so for René to mind. His ears had strained through every second, listening for danger, but that was nothing new. He could not help but suddenly miss that scratchy straw bed in the shaking barn; though in the end even *that* proved unsafe. Finally, he'd reluctantly shifted, opening his eyes to meet 'Uber's, realizing as he startled himself awake that the man had actually been falling back asleep.

"I need to get back downstairs, I'm afraid," René smiled to ease the sting, stroking a thumb gently at the dark shadows still under 'Uber's eyes, "And you need to get back to sleep, my dear 'Uber."

'Uber smiled hazily, leaning down to press a kiss to René's fore'ead before shifting his body to the side to let René sit up. He kept watching with drowsy pleasure as René used the washcloth from the side table to wipe himself down, and then leaned over and wiped 'Oh 'eck' his latest lover... 'Perhaps 'e did court his own troubles...' down as well, suspecting the man would fall asleep and forget. And that was no pleasant way to wake 'As he could attest'.

'Uber grabbed his hand when he was done, bringing it to his lips to kiss, "Thank you, René." There was far too much earnest sincerity in the eyes and voice for it to be only for the cleanup. But René was not near ready to discuss anything else. He nodded silently and gently pulled his hand away, though he did track down the shirt he'd lent the man in the muddled bedding and shake it out; and then helped him back into it.

'Uber grinned a bit dopily at him, "I think you rather enjoy dressing me, René."

René snorted, "With proper incentive, I might admit to enjoying UN-dressing you 'Uber, but I've no interest in playing Papa." He did smile at the man's resulting giggles though, and even kissed the tip of his nose, to tease 'If he had been more awake, a nip would have been more fun. Perhaps he would even have gotten tumbled to his back again by those strong arms...'

By the time he'd tidied his own clothes and was preparing to open the door, while wondering what his chances of not being seen on a second pass through the halls were, 'Uber was asleep and René could not help stepping back into the room to pull the blankets over the man. Tucking someone in... was a strange experience. 'No, he did *not* want to play Papa!' Though a quieter voice at the back of his mind pointed out that playing 'husband' *might* not be so unpleasant.. with the right person...

'Uber had slipped out during the excessively busy evening, while René rushed from kitchen to bar to tables 'Thankfully without any interfering schemes from the Résistance'. René had barely been aware that one of the uniformed backs exiting the café had been more familiar than most. 'How long had he been able to recognize the man at so casual a glance??'

He had managed to make up a story of a dull razor and soured shaving cream 'Do not ask him how shaving cream soured' that had won the all too real sympathy of Edith, Yvette, and Mimi for the definite rash on his chin and jaw 'Thank god the colonel had not been in, René could only imagine what those knowing looks would have turned into...' He was just lucky that between his wash and sleeping in René's clothes for a few hours, 'Uber had not pressed the scent of diesel so strongly into René's skin for any of them to notice. *He* had noticed. Very distractingly.

And now he was back, and René had frozen next to the piano, wondering what he was about to face. Gruber's quiet sincerity this week might perhaps mean he was capable of discretion, as well. But René could not help but remember when the lieutenant had once tried to help him avoid the notice of German soldiers by dancing with him; only to ruin it by walking into the café making grand announcements. But that had been a long while ago. The man had developed some subtlety since. Some.

'My god. On the other hand, no amount of subtlety would help a bite mark some foolish Frenchman had left too high for his collar to hide!'

When Gruber turned from his conversation with the colonel and saw René, his professional, blank, expression changed to a bright smile. But his perfectly normal hail of "Evening, René!" did not betray that anything had changed between them 'That René was the person to mark him so'. René smiled back, relieved, and able to be pleased to see him, now that he was reassured he would not have to run around putting out new fires 'Or avoiding bullets.' "Good afternoon, lieutenant Gruber."

"René! Wine to celebrate this lovely weather!"

"Of course, colonel." The colonel should have sounded happy, but René vaguely noted that he looked unfortunately grouchy; never a good sign... He looked around for Yvette as he hurried to the bar, and tipped his head at the colonel, taking her nod to mean she would go and visit with him soon.

Von Strohm narrowed his eyes as his subordinate unabashedly stared at their café owner as René walked to the bar. "Gruber, you are a lovesick fool!" Not to mention a cheating one; who the devil had had the temerity to lay that distinct hickey on the boy's neck? That was no way for an officer to walk about! Let along the ADC to a General!

Gruber finally turned back to him as they sat down, smile toning down but his gaze as unapologetic as ever, "There are worse things to be made sick by, colonel."

Von Strohm huffed, unable to deny that; but still vaguely annoyed. Though he supposed Gruber had not -so far as he knew- had all that much actual 'entertainment' since he'd gotten to Nouvion; von Strohm should not begrudge him what most of them could more easily find.

Then again, he had as little patience for Helga's twisted affection for that blasted Gestapo madman; it was just that she got quite bitingly snippy if he tried to school *her*. And surely chasing after a weak-willed, married -though they never *had* told Gruber about that- Frenchman with more mistresses than shirts, who did not return Gruber's affection with so much as Flick's dubious regard, was idiotic.

He looked up in relief as René brought their wine, welcoming the distraction from his thoughts. As long as René did not object to the soulful looks, which he never really seemed to before, von Strohm knew he was wasting his breath; putting the boy on report for that breach of uniform would only end up coming back at him -Gruber could be vengefully petty. Perhaps Yvette would offer some celery, later; this mood of his was most likely entirely the fault of that frightful weather they'd just suffered through.

He firmly ignored the lieutenant beaming up as René handed him his own glass of wine.

...But... was the Frenchman being a little slow to let go... and... well not *beaming*, certainly, but... Von Strohm almost choked on his mouthful of wine.

René had actually touched the lieutenant's shoulder as he turned away! He could count on one hand the number of times the man had willingly so much as gotten *near* Gruber... and that had been... That had practically been a stroke... almost up to... that bruise-

Had he actually been right about what they'd interrupted in that barn? RENÉ??? And.... Gruber? Had the man hit his head?

...Had both men? "René! More wine!" He ignored Gruber's raised brow at his shout and finished his glass in one swallow.

As things got busy, René tried to concentrate on pouring drinks for the girls to serve. Tried to keep his eyes on his bottles and his bar. Away from a certain table by the window. But there was no denying it. Whenever he glanced at René, the lieutenant *glowed*, eyes bright, with a grin on his face befitting a 20 year old 'René refused to say 20 year old newlywed' in the throes of- well. 'Sex was a wonderful thing. And it *was* extremely pleasant to have a bed to do it in.'

And René knew himself to be a fool for people who desired him.

He'd done a fair job of resisting Gruber, all this time...

He did not think he would be managing it any longer.

AN:https://www.npr.org/2014/12/17/371424790/between-world-wars-gay-culture-flourished-in-berlin

AN:**** anyone who looks at my history knows I'm terrible at finishing things, HOWEVER, in this case, it is fully written. Just waiting on life to be polished for posting. ****

annnnd I screwed up canon, I see:
For this to be before they recovered the paintings, then René had *not*, actually, had to slip his hands in Gruber's pants.. yet..(-smirk-). I beg pardon. I had only watched through the show once when i wrote this. the repeated trouser-invasion had stuck in the 'ead more than the details, somehow...
And fixing.. well. Not doing it today, anyway.
(I did tweak denise and louise's names. anothe detail that kept slipping me)

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