"Back to England so soon, Sir? You were just getting settled in here," said the chef as he set Hogan's dinner plate down in front of him. Hogan was dining alone this evening for a change, for the first time in the two months since his household had returned to the U.S.

"Yes, tomorrow afternoon. Sit, LeBeau," Hogan said with a wave, and the Frenchman complied. He knew his place as a servant in Hogan's home two miles from the Pentagon, but they went way back and Hogan was friendly and unpretentious. As a member of the French Resistance, Louis LeBeau had been an intermediary between Hogan and the Resistance movement's contacts inside Germany, transmitting important documents back to the Allies.

"They had a proposition for me, LeBeau," Hogan said as he tucked into his meal. "Marriage."

"Ah! And who is the lucky lady?" LeBeau smiled. He had opinions on this. Tiger, his dearest friend and a French fighter of the Underground in Germany, would be perfect for Hogan if only he would stop playing the field.

"Lucky man," Hogan emphasized. "Boy, actually. He's 12 years younger than me - can you believe that? He's the son of a Marquess who's agreed to a big land deal provided I take his kid off his hands."

"What? They're ordering you to marry to get land?"

"It goes with the territory, LeBeau," Hogan wisecracked. Then he settled his voice into neutral. "You know the deal, LeBeau. All American military men are subject to marriage and procreation requirements. It's the one good idea we stole from the Krauts. It's not exactly Lebensborn, more like the Lebensborn Reserve." The official thinking of the American quasi-military government was that marriage provided a stabilizing influence on career military men. And of course it occasionally had strategic value.

LeBeau went silent. There was a lot to unpack here. For one thing, he knew Hogan swung both ways, but he would have pegged him for marrying a woman. It was traditional, and a bit more prestigious for a military man, regardless of his sexual preferences. Lots of soldiers were queer, but a woman could provide children, and children were proof positive of virility, which mattered in the military-industrial society of America.

LeBeau wasn't sure he understood America. Personally, he would have married for love, probably to a woman, though who could say for sure? But the highest levels of American society focused on the transactional value of everything, and marriages were frequently brokered for career and social advancement purposes. How Hogan had slipped the noose for this long was anyone's guess.

"LeBeau? You're very quiet. What are you thinking?"

"I think you should talk to your friend Kinch. He's very sensible. But General, is this something you wish? Are you attracted to this young man?"

"How the hell would I know? I haven't even met him yet. I've seen pictures and he's handsome and reasonably well endowed, but I don't know what he's like." Hogan looked more irritated than LeBeau had ever seen him.

"What about your lady friends?" LeBeau asked. "How can you just turn them all away?"

Hogan waved his hand. "I can have whoever I want. That won't change," he said.

"Won't it?" LeBeau asked. "It might not change for you. But what about them? And your new husband?"

"Wife, I think we're calling him, just to keep things clear that I wear the pants in this house," Hogan said grumpily. "I don't want any confusion on that point."

"Mais oui, you must be the man of the house," LeBeau said, biting back any criticism of his boss. "My point is that your new … wife… may have feelings about this."

"So what if he does?" Hogan said.

"That's not like you, Sir," LeBeau replied. "He's human. You will have to consider his feelings. He may not want you sleeping with women."

Hogan pressed his palms into his eyes like he had a headache. "You're right, you're right. If he's unhappy, I'm unhappy. That's how marriages work. My job is to keep him happy so that the alliance works." He was still going to have any side pieces he wanted, though. Hogan didn't say it, but he thought it.

"The alliance is one reason to keep him happy," LeBeau said. "But there are other reasons. Especially if you want intimacy."

Hogan just stared. He liked sex. A lot of sex, with a lot of partners, and LeBeau knew that. Intimacy, not so much. "Look, LeBeau, I'll bang him, no problem. If he likes sex, I can keep him happy."

LeBeau sighed. There was no point explaining intimacy to a man who didn't understand the concept. Perhaps the boy was cut from the same cloth and it wouldn't matter to him either. They could fulfill their marital duty and have other people too. He decided to focus on the big picture. "The alliance, it is important?"

"Very. It's critical to our ability to staff air bases in England, and with the growing threat from the Soviets we have to be present."

"Then you will do what you must," LeBeau said. "I will help you pack tonight. By the way, does he have a name?"

"Lord Peter," Hogan sneered.

"Seigneur Pierre," LeBeau said. "I like that very much. A noble title makes an Englishman sound dignified. We don't need them in France, of course. We are quite dignified already."

An hour later, Hogan was on the phone to his pal Kinch, explaining the sudden turn his life had taken. James Kinchloe had been Hogan's confidant for years, and was his aide de camp throughout Hogan's assignments in Europe. Now Kinch was attending college on the GI bill, earning his degree at Cornell University's College of Civil Engineering. They talked every day without fail. So far he knew that Hogan was betrothed to a young man of noble birth, that he was 26 and virile, and that there was an important land transaction at stake. That all made sense, but it was still a surprise. Hogan apparently hadn't seen it coming.

"This is all pretty sudden, Sir," Kinch said.

"Tell me about it," Hogan replied. "They haven't given me much choice."

"It doesn't sound like it, but you know your duty and you'll do it," Kinch answered. "I hope he's a nice kid."

"I saw pictures. I think he'll be OK." He launched into a description.

"I did not need to know that, Sir," Kinch laughed. Unlike Hogan, Kinch was strictly into women, which made him kind of an oddball for a guy his age. Nearly everyone he knew was at least bisexual if not pansexual; that was just life in America in 1946. It was the second time Hogan had mentioned his fiancé's endowment, which Kinch took as a good sign. He wouldn't want anyone bigger than him, but he had certain expectations, which apparently the boy fulfilled.

Kinch was of the opinion that marriage could be good for Hogan. It might humble him a little. He hoped Hogan's bride-to-be had some fight in him. "Now, what's the next step?"

"Well, I leave for England tomorrow, and sometime in the next few days I meet him at his daddy's fancy house in Buckinghamshire. Then pretty soon I have to propose…"

"Propose? I thought you said it was all arranged!"

"It is, but apparently the proposal is important. I'm told it has to be 'sincere,' whatever that means."

So it wasn't meant to be a marriage of equals. That was important information. Marriage was in flux; Kinch knew that. Male-female marriages hadn't changed much; it was still the man on top. And many same-sex marriages were even-steven; partners came together through mutual agreement and had equal standing. But many same-sex marriages were along more traditional lines, with a husband and wife structure, and Kinch could see why that would matter to a dom like Hogan. No wonder it was structured that way.

"What 'sincere' means, Sir, is that you get down on your knee and ask for his hand without cracking any jokes. And you're going to woo him the old fashioned way."

"What the heck does that mean?" Hogan practically barked.

"You have to be a total gentleman toward him. Open doors, pull out chairs, and such. No raunchy jokes. And definitely do not push for sex until you're married, got it?"

"Fuck," Hogan said despairingly.

"No. That is actually not on the agenda, Sir. Do you understand?" Kinch was a long-suffering friend.

"Yes. Fine."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, I understand that I must not have intimate relations with my fiancé until the wedding night. Jesus, what a nightmare. I can have other people, though, right?"

Kinch was silent.

"A whole month?"

"Sir, you're betrothed, and you have a contractual obligation to be sincere. Just save it up for him, OK? It will make a difference, I promise."

Hogan was silent.

"Good," Kinch said, reasonably convinced that Hogan understood his mission. "Now, have you picked out an engagement ring?"

"What? No!" Hogan sounded panicky. "He can't wear an engagement ring. He's a guy."

"Yeah, but he's queer. He might like a ring. Maybe a pinkie ring or something."

"Ugh, I hate those," Hogan said. "No. No, there must be something else I can do. I am not marrying a guy who wears a diamond engagement ring. It's too faggy."

"Not to worry, Sir. I have an idea I think you'll like, and I think LeBeau can help you pick out something really appropriate in the morning. If you put him on the phone when we're done here, I'll explain it all."

Kinch could hear Hogan relax as he blew out his breath. "Thank you, Kinch. You're the one I should be marrying, really. You make my life so much easier." The twinkle was back in his voice. Hogan would never ruin a friendship like this by marrying.

"Thanks but no thanks, Sir," Kinch laughed. "You are definitely not my type. Listen, though. You should take LeBeau with you to London. He'll be good for your nerves."

Hogan nodded. Kinch was right; he usually was. He was going to need someone to talk to as he dived into this weird new saga. "Good idea, bud. I'll see if I can squeeze him into my luggage," he joked. "Let me get him on the phone for you."

He called out loudly: "LeBeau!"

#####

About the language used in the story. Queers and Homos are socially acceptable terms in this AU. Faggots, a word used by General Barton, is extremely rude and it's mostly used by the older generation who aren't comfortable with how society has changed. Faggy, used by Hogan, is queer-to-queer bias. In this society, it's OK for military men to be gay or bi or pan provided they are dominant and present themselves as traditionally masculine. Hogan looks down on men who have any stereotypically gay mannerisms or behaviors.