Chapter Text
Brady’s music never sounded so gentle. When he played with the band, it was lively and upbeat to boost morale. But with the men all crowded in their tight cell, not long until lights out, soft, sweet notes filled with emotion poured out of him. Yearning. Heartache. Longing. Raw like rubbing alcohol in a deep wound in his chest that can’t be seen.
He was sitting by himself, next to the window, eyes closed so he could only feel. He imagined a face he hadn’t seen for months. Thinking about how that face might have changed, deep dark circles and stress wrinkles forming on their forehead.
Sweat beaded on his brow as he focused on the person standing in front of him, who turned to smile at him as Brady played for them. And then they were gone. He gasped as he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. Brady opened his eyes, his vision blurred by unshed tears. He gazed up and saw Howard standing over him.
“The guards will be coming around soon.” He spoke quietly, pulling up a chair next to his wingless pilot. They lean on each other to steady themselves after Brady set down the instrument that had seen better days.
Brady wasn’t the kind of man who was open about his thoughts and feelings; that was between him and his god. But when he rested his head on Howard, and found peace in those long, bony fingers carding through his grown-out hair, he pulled out a photo that he held close to his heart. Black and white, with a little wear and tear around the edges, it was a photo of Harry sitting on the step, in front of their crew’s barracks. His bright smile on that piece of paper was enough to rekindle Brady’s faith.
“I miss him too,” Howard said, watching the still of Harry tremble in Brady’s cold fingers.
“I pray for him every night. I pray they’re keeping him safe for us. Hammy, if anything happened to him, I don’t know what I’d do.” Brady whimpered as his blonde man gathered him up into his arms. “I miss him so much. Every day, I think of him moving on without us. Every night, I try to reach him in his dreams so that he won’t forget us. But, I swear, sometimes I can feel him thinking about us even though we’re hundreds of miles apart and there’s no way I could possibly know that.”
Howard listened to Brady’s lovesick madness unfold and held on tighter. He swallowed down that lump in his throat. This was the first time since they were captured that they talked about Harry together; neither wanted to bring him into this harsh reality of theirs.
Some of the men turned away because they thought the pair would appreciate the privacy. But there was really no such thing as privacy in a place like this.
Bucky and Gale, on the other hand, were watching them closely. They felt sorry for Brady and Hambone. They had each other, but those two were missing a piece of their puzzle “Cheer up, you two. I’m sure Croz is doing fine. He’s probably living it up with the big boys now. Maybe he made it to his last mission and is safe at home training a group of wide-eyed, young navigators who look up to him like he’s their god.” Bucky said, trying to lift their spirits.
Gale touched Bucky’s arm and shook his head, “Better not to give them false hope, Bucky. Just think about how much worse it’ll hurt if they keep their hopes up only to find out Crosby’s gone.” He whispered as quietly as he could. Bucky sighed and refrained from saying anything else on the topic of the navigator.
Everyone turned in shortly after the guard came in to tell them it was time for the lights to go out. Howard couldn’t get to sleep after he made sure that Brady was as comfortable as he could be, given where they had to sleep. He lay on his back for the next hour staring into the darkness, thinking about Harry and their last moments together after the navigator returned from Bremen. He remembered thinking Harry looked utterly exhausted, but he felt a smile cross his face as he recalled how happy Harry looked when Blakely and Douglass dumped praise after praise over him. As Ham smiled, his skin pinched from the corner of his mouth to his ear. It didn’t hurt; it was just a dull, tight tugging sensation as if the fresh scar tissue was straining to hold him together. He cursed quietly under his breath as his smile dropped, and pressed the bottoms of his palms into his eyes.
He didn’t need a mirror to see himself. The image of his mutilated face was etched permanently into his mind’s eye from the first time he looked at his reflection. But, after being reminded of Harry possibly still waiting for him and Brady to come home, he couldn’t help but dread Harry’s reaction to his face. That fear was enough to make tears wet his hands. He breathed in shakily and let out a small sob on the exhale.
“Hammy?” A faint whisper came from Brady’s bunk.
Howard took a moment to recover and push everything down, and then he answered, “I’m fine, just go back to sleep, Brady.” He heard a huff and some shuffling. A weight landed next to him after a second.
“Move over.”
He did, and Brady settled down next to him. An arm came and draped over Hamilton’s middle as Brady cuddled up close.
“You’re not fine, Hammy. Nobody here is fine. We’re all cold and miserable. So, tell me… Please,” Brady spoke softly to him.
Howard sighed heavily and turned to look toward Brady, his sad, sunken eyes searching for his lover in the darkness. “Today was the first time we brought up Harry. It got me thinking about something that is probably stupid.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Brady said, taking one of the bombardier’s cold hands.
“I started to worry about whether Harry would still think I’m good-looking with this massive scar on my face, or if he’d be horrified or even disgusted by it.” He confessed, and Brady gave his hand a gentle squeeze.
“Yeah, that is pretty stupid.” He said lightly, “Harry adores you just as much as I do, Howie. When you see him again, he’s gonna be all over you, and he’ll dote over your scars for a year at the very least, probably might moisturise them for you in the winter when they get sore and kiss them gently to prove that they don’t bother him because he loves you.” He smiled warmly, even though Howard couldn’t see it clearly; it was still there. “And you’re going to lap up every ounce of his fuss; I just know it.” He chuckled into the fabric of the scarf, keeping Howard’s neck warm.
Howard turned onto his side and wrapped his lithe body around Brady. “You’re probably right.” He hummed.
“I’m always right.”
Howard laughed out of his nose. He swore he could hear Brady’s overconfident smirk in his voice, “Mhm, sure you are, doll. Sure you are,” He teased and sighed. He settled down after a while, trapping Brady in his bunk for the night.
They were going to see Harry again one day, no matter how long it took them; they’d be reunited, and after the war, they would get a place together and build a life that they could only dream of for now.