After they had been cruelly parted and then united, to their great relief, Newton and Hermann were nearly able to (in an unconventional way) live together. Though, at the RAF base, or anywhere in the world for that matter, they had to hide their relationship, they were able to get to know eachother very well indeed. Spending most of his time in his office, Hermann sorted through the paperwork that had built up in his absence and Newton joined him, writing a detailed report on his "octopus reconnaissance" for Commander Pentecost. Hermann often held Newton's hand while the latter wrote and the former read through documents. They quickly parted at the sound of a knock on the door but nothing could totally destroy their contentment. When they were alone in their room, which had been a heaven-sent state of affairs, they kissed and caressed as much as possible. It seemed to take the place of their arguments. Sometimes tender and gentle, sometimes wild and aggressive, but always passionate and searching. Their hands felt eachother's bodies, mentally mapping all they wanted to feel of eachother's physical parameters, their bodies, as if they just wanted to make sure the other was real. Sometimes they even writhed together as they sat on one of the beds, uniform buttons clashing, they inhaled the very sighs from eachother's mouths. They dared not go any further, though they pushed themselves to the brink many times. Often just in time to stop themselves from touching eachother to the point where they could not turn back. But they also spent much of their time simply talking and even laughing together. After one very long day in the office, Hermann suddenly felt melancholy when they got back to their room.

"What's wrong, hon?" Hermann breathed in with bittersweet arousal at the sound of Newton suddenly using an American pet name for him.

"Nothing," he lied, "Just thinking how worried you were when I was injured. It was such a minor wound I received as your temporary arse end charlie."

"Huh?" Newt said with half a puzzled smile on his lips.

"Rear gunner." Newton laughed openly. "I'm trying to be serious."

"You always are. And you shouldn't be. I mean, I know we're in the middle of a war but that's all the more we should just, you know, enjoy life and make jokes." Hermann sighed again and sat on his bed. Newton sat on his. "I'm sorry, I just try not to think about you being worried about me."

"Well, I was. Dreadfully."

"I know. I saw your face. I don't wanna to see that look again."

"There I was, not knowing what the hell happened," he said almost to himself, "thinking you'd bought the farm, imagining you a flamer in the drink. Or that you'd ended up in a blood wagon at the very least. I was so frozen on a stick I nearly bagged over the side of my bed. I never thought I'd see you again. Now you're home, uh here, and I'm happy about that, of course, but... You're a clot even if you are brilliant...and I thought..." Hermann had used up all his words and he just stared at the floor even harder until it seemed to float towards him.

"I understood the words but the meaning is totally gone, man."

"In plain English, I was worried," Hermann said looking Newton in the eye.

"I got that from the way you sighed."

"Really?" Newton walked over softly and sat next to Hermann. He kissed him on the lips with great assurity, letting him feel he was there and not simply telling him.

"Really," Newton said taking Hermann's face in his hands. Newton started to chuckle. "Frozen on a stick..." he added, grinning and shaking his head.

"I suppose these little turns of phrase we have are rather absurd," Hermann said with a twinkle in his eye once more.

"This isn't." Newton leaned in and showed him exactly what wasn't absurd.

One morning, Newton slept in a bit later than usual after he'd had a long and private conversation with Pentecost the night before. Hermann left when he was dead to the world, and returned an hour later with coffee on a tray. He set it down and stood looking at Newton as he slept. He looked very peaceful indeed. Newton smiled beautifully as he woke up to see Hermann standing over him.

"I brought you some coffee." Newton looked up at Hermann who was standing there, his left hand in his pocket and his right hand on his cane, looking almost jaunty.

"You look sexy." Hermann raised his eyebrows but inhaled with confidence.

"You're probably delusional from sleep." Hermann handed Newton the cup who blew on the steaming liquid and took a tentative sip.

"Sorry to knock you up, but–" Newton spluttered his hot drink all over the place before Hermann could finish.

"What did you say?"

"I said I'm sorry to wake you up." Newton was wheezing with laughter as he told him the American meaning of the phrase.

"Oh dear." Hermann blushed a bit as he sat down on Newton's bed.

"Bletch, I can see why you drink tea, this coffee is totally vile."

"Sorry."

"That's ok, I'm probably just picky."

"No, it's ruddy awful." They sat in comfortable silence for a minute and when Newt finished his coffee, Hermann took the empty cup without being asked and put it on the dresser.

"The door's closed, right?"

"Yes."

"Come here." Hermann complied and fell back slowly into Newton's warm arms. Hermann let himself go. The sensation of being wrapped in Newton's arms was more than he ever could have asked for. Eventually they got up to work in the office, but the sensation stayed with Hermann for many hours afterward. Later that same day, Hermann had stopped working early to give his leg a rest and returned to their room alone. Newton had been in the mess having a whale of a time talking to a group of fellow pilots about his exploits. He wasn't far behind Hermann and walked into their room as Hermann was undoing his tie, his coat hanging open. Newton was practically gasping for air he was laughing so hard. He sat on the bed next to Hermann and patted his thigh several times before resting his hand there. Hermann was smiling and asked him what was so funny.

"I just found out..." Newton could hardly compose himself, "that 'squabbling bleeder' is a slang for 'squadron leader.'" Hermann dropped his shoulders, and suddenly became grumpy, pulling away from Newt.

"No, no," Newt said, sobering up but still smiling, "honestly, it wasn't against you. They were talking about the guy who replaced you when you were in the hospital."

"Oh, yes," Hermann said as Newton hugged his shoulders as the man sat stiffly, "I heard he wasn't well liked."

"You thought they were talking about you?"

"Yes." Newton dropped his head on Hermann's shoulder.

"They don't call you silly names, they just think you're a little stiff, that's all. Lighten up, man." Hermann brushed it off and warmed to Newton's touch but was a little subdued the rest of the night. The next day he rose early and Newton woke up to see Hermann's bed made. Later on in the office Hermann started a conversation out of the blue.

"Your German surname doesn't seem to bother them," Hermann said about the men under his command, "You're one of the boys. But my surname puts them off. Largely because they mistrust me a bit because I'm not full of enthusiasm like you are. I'm too serious."

"You should let them see your cheerful side. And you do actually have a sense of humor it's just really, really..."

"Dull," Hermann said with his back toward Newton, pretending to look at a map on his wall.

"Dry."

"You mean dull."

"No," Newton said truthfully, shaking his head.

"You know, I used not to care, but seeing you...have what I don't have... it, it bothers me somehow."

"I'm sorry," Newton said, getting up and walking over to Hermann, putting his hands on his shoulders, resting his forehead on his back, "I just thought you felt left out in general; I didn't think I was the one who made you feel worse about it."

"It's alright old chap." Newton chuckled into his back but Hermann put a hand on one that was gripping his shoulder. There was a knock at the door and they dove to their respective seats as Hermann called out "what is it?" A flight lieutenant burst in.

"Wing Commander Pentecost just pulled up, sir."

"Ah, thank you Perkins." The officer left and they exchanged glances. They hadn't seen him in a month. Soon they heard the Commander's familiar determined stride and they both stood up as he entered the room.

"Please sit down, sir."

"I'll come straight to the point. You two need a break."

"Yes, I suppose we do," Hermann said, "New–Geiszler more than I do, of course."

"Well, it will be a bit of a working leave, actually. Lieutenant Geiszler needs to start analyzing his samples. And, Gottlieb, we may need your mathematics skills in the prediction of further attacks on allied battleships." Hermann raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, of course," he said, nodding assuredly.

"Gottlieb, do you remember the old farmhouse you had your eye on?" Hermann nodded again, this time narrowing his eyes in suspicion.

"I bought it. I want you and Geiszler to use it for your research." Hermann tried not to show his excitement, remaining totally still and looking at Newton for a reaction. The man smiled at him softly and knowing. Hermann kept his composure but he was sure they could both see his chest rising and falling more rapidly than usual. Newton didn't say much. Pentecost had little more to say and ordered them to travel to the cottage tomorrow morning, wishing them a safe journey. After the Wing Commander left, they suddenly felt awkward, hardly speaking but frequently looking up at one another. They retired early to pack up their papers and kit bags. There was tension in the air.

"All this...petting...we've been doing," Hermann began gingerly with a casual wave on the word 'petting' and a shuffle of his feet.

"Yeah?" Newton, turned round as he stuffed his kit bag. Hermann leant his cane next to the dresser.

"It's illegal, you know."

"The groping is," Newton said, raising his eyebrows.

"Do be serious."

"Yeah." Newton fought against Hermann's morbid tones with as much casualty as he could possibly fake.

"We could go to prison if we get caught."

"As long as we get the same cell."

"Newton!" Hermann growled. Geiszler was taken aback by his raw anger and stared at him, breathing deeply.

"Sorry," Newton said, greatly sobered by his lover's anguish. He walked up to Hermann and put his arms around his waist. Hermann kept his head down and rested his forehead on Newton's shoulder. Newton began to kiss him.

"Don't," Hermann said into Newton's mouth, but he felt fingers in his hair and gave in a little.

"It's alright," Newton whispered. Hermann inhaled his words like smoke. They expressed their worries in touches, grasps, caresses, each trying to pull eachother apart and put eachother back together again.

"We're going to put ourselves in danger," Hermann whispered, on the edge of confident desire and hopeless fear.

"Don't you like a little danger," Newton said with a grind of his hips. Hermann felt himself slipping into his abyss of yearning. A moan escaped his lips and Newton seemed to catch it in his, grinding into him for a second time. Hermann tried to push him away but only gripped him more tightly. Newton took Hermann's upper lip in his and bit down very hard to quiet his groans and whimpers that were getting dangerously loud. When he released him gently, Hermann pulled away but left his hands in the crooks of Newton's arms.

"Society is more dangerous than war." Newton knew he was right and they should stop. They rested their foreheads together and he stole a look at Hermann. His brow was furrowed, eyes shut tightly.

"I'm sorry," Newton sighed, apologizing to himself just as much.

"At least we'll get to sleep in the same bed tomorrow."

"God, that sounds fantastic." They returned to their packing in a haze of sadness and suppressed passion. They spoke no more until they were in their beds and the lights were out. Hermann told Newton about the cottage and they fell asleep with their heads full of pleasure, sunlight, and freedom. They were elated when they woke up early the next morning. It was just after dawn. All the hopelessness seemed to have left them. They waved goodbye to some of the men on the airfield, trying not to think that they may never see some of them again. They couldn't ask for better weather for the time of year. Though it was a bit cold, being March, it was a lovely drive and the sun was on their faces most of the morning. Newt drove and halfway they stopped to eat some meager sandwiches they'd brought with them. Hermann fell asleep and Newton put his sheepskin bomber jacket over him. When Hermann woke up in it, happiness washed over him like the spring rain that was to come. A quarter of an hour later, Newton pulled up and switched off the car. He propped himself on his arms, looking at the crude yet picturesque cottage.

"It's tremendous, man." He jumped out. Hermann beamed. Newton got the kit bags out of the backseat and handed him one in exchange for his jacket. Once in the house, they shut the door and stood inside, looking around. Newton put his arm around Hermann.

"How do you feel?"

"Safer." Newton tilted his head up to Hermann who kissed him firmly on the lips, deepening it quickly. "Let's go upstairs." Newton closed his eyes, clinging to Hermann for the support he pretended not to need. They climbed the stairs together, both practically trembling with desire and nerves. When they reached the bedroom, Hermann shut the door out of habit. They were in eachother's arms before they knew it. Their lack of inhibition startled them and they became clumsy when they'd never been before. Hermann's cane clattered to the floor but neither cared. Cognizance seemed to fade away and they had their jackets off and at their feet in under a minute. Their mouths were engaged all the while until Newton rammed him up against the paper-covered wall. Hermann gasped. By the early afternoon light, Newton could see his man was trying to catch his breath and he held on, waiting for the soonest moment he could capture his lips. He contented himself with running his fingernails through Hermann's hair.

"You've done this before?" Hermann said cautiously.

"Uh, yeah," he said as if to imply 'what a stupid question,' "but not for about two years so I'm gettin' a little frustrated...when was the last time you...ya know?"

"About four years ago."

"Seriously, man? OK, that's it. I'm getting you off right now." He went straight for the man's trousers.

"No, on second thought," he protested weakly as Newton unfastened his pants, "I don't think that's such a spiffing ide – gah!" Newton had already taken hold. Hermann whined.

"How about now? Cuz I'll stop," he said genuinely, looking up at him, "I mean, i-if I'm going too fast."

"No, please," Hermann panted, feeling for the wall behind him, "I changed my mind again," he added, letting his head drop back, "I'll die if you stop now." Newton stared at him with utter devotion and continued. "Could he be any harder?" he thought to himself. He gripped him more firmly but he was so worried he'd hurt him. Hermann groaned softly as if his entire body ached. Newton closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. He wanted to ask Hermann to touch him but didn't have the heart to break his reverie and started to suck his neck instead. Hermann was fighting his desire. Newton could feel him tensing, but he continued to stroke him, firmly, slowly. Out of his peripheral vision he could see Hermann biting his lip, hard.

"Moan," Newton commanded softly into his neck, "go on, you need to; no one can hear us." Hermann complied. Newton started to pant. He involuntarily squeezed harder, stroking a little faster, leaning into Hermann who dug his fingers into Newton's waist. Hermann pressed his neck into the heat of Newton's open mouth. Newton moaned in return. Hermann's skin was all soft and moist underneath his lips. He felt Hermann's right hand fumbling toward his waistband and reach into his own trousers. His breath shuddered as Hermann grasped him tightly. He ground into Hermann's hand, urging him to work faster. After a few deliberate, languorous strokes, Hermann reached the pace Newton had on his own cock.

"Newton, Newton, Newton," he repeated, his mind slipping, his hips thrusting forward, "I...I think...oh Newton...I'm nearly there..." With one great lash forward like a bullwhip he came, crying out at the top of his voice as he felt his warm ejaculate issue from his throbbing member. He desperately worked Newton in a kind of frenzy all the way through his own release and Newton followed, his grunts flowering into a thick, untamed moan. Neither could stop panting. They slowly regained awareness of their surroundings. Newton captured Hermann's open lips and was reciprocated in full. When they parted Hermann looked into Newton's eyes with disbelief, awe, relief, humor, fear, tenderness. Newton gazed back, the same emotions glistening in his eyes. He smiled. Hermann kissed his neck.

"Oh damn. Our uniforms," he said. Newton whipped Hermann's hankie out of the trouser pocket and removed most of the milky spatters. "At least the jackets aren't soiled."

"Best sexual experience of the decade and you're worried about staining some fabric."

"Best?" Hermann looked down at Newton lovingly, hopefully, raising his eyebrows.

"So far, yeah." Newton smiled to the fullest. Hermann inhaled.

"I think we need a nap," he said, taking Newton's hand and leading him over to the bed. With one hand he pulled off the sheet that hung over the bed, that was put there to prevent dust building up, and hung it over a chair. Soon they were stretched out, in eachother's arms, their trousers still half undone. Newton rested his head on Hermann's chest, his hand tucked inside his shirt, feeling the soft skin beneath his fingers. Hermann sighed with great contentment. A few minutes of dozing passed without a sound. But Newton stirred and said "Hermann?"

"Umm?"

"Why did you protest when I started to touch you?" Hermann breathed in and for a moment Newton thought he had gone back to sleep but then he spoke.

"I suppose I knew that if we started this sort of thing we'd never be able to stop...and we'd never be safe again." Newton paused.

"We were never safe."

After they had slept for an hour, they got up and made themselves presentable and headed down the road to collect a couple fresh eggs from an old woman Hermann had met when he first looked at the house in '43. They made the most of them and some tins of beef and some vegetables from the woman's garden. It wasn't much of a meal, but they had gotten used to a lack of food like everyone else. When they had finished, Hermann told Newton to dig through the little collection of records that was left in the sitting room. Hermann washed up their plates and the few dust-covered dishes that sat on the kitchen counter. Newton blew off the dust from a record he wanted to hear, but then stopped at the sound of the kitchen clatter. He walked up behind Hermann and wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing his chest into his warm back. Hermann's hands were wet and soapy. He leaned back into Newton until he felt his head rest on the man's forehead.

"Oh Newton," he sighed, contented.

"Come on, let's dance. I found one you'll like," Newton said as he lead him into the sitting room. Hermann wiped his hands on the dishrag and grabbed his cane on the way through the door, but Newton took it from him gently when they reached the record player. Hermann held onto him, relaxing for once, as Newton set the needle on the record. Al Bowlly's voice floated around him. Newton lead him out into the room and they began to slow dance.

The touch of your lips, upon my brow, your lips that are cool and sweet...

"Newton –," he started but he was shushed. The song played on. Newton rested his head on Hermann's shoulder as their arms wound around one another, Hermann's hands on the small of Newton's back. They danced and swayed ever so slowly until they were at a stand-still when the song ended, the record scratching before the needle popped upward.

"I was going to say thank you," Hermann said.

"For what?"

"Making me happy."

"Likewise." Hermann kissed him softly. "I want to show you something."

"Oh?" Hermann said with a saucy look on his face.

"Not that," Newton smiled, "Follow me." Hermann picked up his cane and followed him outside until they were far across the back garden. They reached the line of trees and Newton parted some branches so they could walk through.

"Newton, where are we going?"

"You'll see." Hermann did. There was now a large outbuilding where there hadn't been one before when he looked the property over a year and a half ago. The building was quite new, some earth had not settled where they were walking. He was in awe.

"This?" Newton nodded. "Come on, I want to see all my samples." Hermann rolled his eyes affectionately and followed. Newton pulled a key out of his pocket and unlocked the large metal door. To Hermann's horror, just beyond an array of specimen jar-covered laboratory tables was a gigantic fish tank the entire length of the building. And inside it was a large, live, octopus.