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When Sheila said “a dinner party with my parents”, Gerald had not been expecting Mrs Birling to open the door, with or without a bright purple face. The only time he had ever seen her even touch the doorknob was when Sheila had announced their engagement and she had had to kick out some strange fellow, who claimed to be an “inspector”. Mr Birling had quickly proved him wrong, but even six years after that peculiar evening, Gerald still wondered about him late at night when a certain someone had fallen asleep beside him that fateful night. Nevertheless, even then, with emotions running high, he had been surprised at her laying a singular finger the door.
And yet here she was, six years later, fists clenched just as firmly on the door and her wrinkled nose scrunched up like a disgruntled cat, albeit an older one than before, and with war trauma dully luckering in her eyes.
Her eyebrows were furrowed tightly and she half sneered at him before seemingly recognising him, something lighting up her eyes as she quickly stepped to the side to let him in. Against his better judgement, the man nearly refused, that familiar anxiety unfurling in his heart and quickly expanding throughout his lungs, threatening to choke him out like a hand wrapped around his throat ; what if they had found out?
Not that it was easy to, of course. While it might have been when they had started their affair soon after the whole fiasco with the so called inspector Goole - easy enough for Sheila to sniff it out at least -, the couple had now grown accustomed to touching without really touching and being appeased from a small nod at a party even if they got comments about their “lingering stares”. It got easier over the years with Sheila’s aid and Eric’s enlistment to the army to fight the Germans giving him a well-merited confidence in himself. Said enlistment had both delighted and disappointed the Birlings and considering that it was his first official night back, the two eldest Birlings could be anything from proud to absolutely disgusted.
Analysing Mrs Birling carefully now, something in Gerald’s stomach twisted with the knowledge that it was far from the first option. Maybe Eric had been right to allow the two a peaceful reunion yesterday evening instead of wading straight into the lions’ den, arms wide open and throat exposed..
Well, it hadn’t been exactly peacefully silent, considering all the noises that the bed had made.
Snapping out of what was sure to push him into a mental rabbit hole, Gerald smiled politely at Mrs Birling and briskly made his way in, fighting the urge to sneer at the affection that flooded her eyes. He would much rather it be thrown at her son, especially considering that it was thanks to him that she wasn’t speaking in German to him right now. Mr Birling and Gerald had naturally been sent to the war too, but due to them being drafted instead of enlisting they had had no choice of their branch nor could gain a better title. Eric had signed up for the Navy in 1913 and so, even if he thought otherwise, he had been a key soldier in their victory, unlike the other two men.
Eric however, had ended up getting home days after the others, thanks to how far his squad had been stationed. Even now, Gerald had to hold back a shiver while remembering the flood of emotions that had rushed through his body at exactly eleven o’clock on that blessed day; the one to bring him to his knees was the suddenly crushing worry that Eric had been killed during his serving. Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw the Birlings opening the letter - both of their faces had been full of fear that their son was to never come home.
Though Gerald knew that Mr Birling would be quick to “recover”, as in get money off of his son’s sacrifice. Probably for his tuberculosis medication, that cost more than any of the Croft’s furniture thanks to a mixture of hyperinflation and the man himself insisting that he needed “special” medication; whatever that entailed. Not that he deserved it.
Huffing, the man paused for an instant to regain his temper before straightening his back and letting his eyes slide over the dining room that he found himself in more than his own parents’ house.
As always, the chairs were carefully tucked in the ivory wood table, white tablecloth snuck in between the two. A large tapestry of … something was hung up above the table and Gerald couldn’t help but silently apologise to it for what it had been witness to yesterday night. The hard wooden-planked floor was just as polished as always and the family’s shoes were lined up against the left wall like prisoners about to be shot. On the opposite wall, dark purple curtains had been pulled- harshly if the crumpled edges had anything to say, to cover the large window that overlooked the Birlings’ well made garden.
Firm muscles relaxing, Gerald took in a large puff of air and exhaled it, taking in the familiar atmosphere as he always did. While yes, the Birling parents were stuck up and much too obsessed with money and how much of it they could make, the Croft preferred them to his own stuck up and judgmental parents. And of course, he preferred their son to whatever preppy brat his parents brought over to replace Sheila.
It might only be a fake engagement on their side, but he would appreciate it if his parents listened to him for once.
Teeth lightly biting down on his tongue, Gerald took a few steps forward to stand behind his chair ; he had sat in it in every family meeting and so, he had long considered it his. After carefully sliding his jacket off and securing it on the back of the chair, he finally let himself look around for the man they had come here to celebrate. It took him a few seconds of desperate scouring before his eyes looked onto a similar head of messy brown hair and a smitten smile slipped onto his face, back slightly slouching as all of his muscles fully relaxed and his eyes fell back onto the table before him like magenta drawn to iron.
Eric was standing in the corner, hands clasped together in front of his crotch with his head tilted slightly to the left. A quick glance in that direction told Gerald that he was listening to his sister, whose eyes twinkled with her usual mischief. Sheila’s right hand would occasionally motion at something on Eric’s neck -it was too dark for Gerald to make out what it was-, mouth quirking up in a grin. After the third time, her brother finally looked away, eyes meeting Gerald’s and almost instantly lighting up in an array of glistening fireworks. His hands unglued themselves to instead slip into his belt loop, which was clearly a newly obtained habit from the Navy.
It was cute, in Gerald’s humble opinion. Not that anyone was asking.
Abandoning his coat in favour of heading towards his secret boyfriend, Gerald fought the urge to hum happily and skip like a child about to enter his birthday party, grin growing to the point of burning his cheek muscles. In the minute it took him to cross the excessively large room, Sheila had stopped talking after seeing that Eric’s attention had strayed from her and instead opted to smirk at the approaching Croft, green eyes rolling at the jump in his step. He smiled at her once he joined the siblings’ side, hand instinctively slipping forward to squeeze Eric’s muscled hip.
It quickly dropped once he remembered where he was, eyes jumping to check on the eldest Birlings before they slid back to their previous position after assuring himself that they hadn’t seen anything. Once he turned back though, he found Sheila watching him amusedly, knowing eyes practically mocking him as she grinned at them in her familiar, coyote-like style.
“Hello, Sheila.”
“Hi, Gerald.” she half purred, clearly choosing to not dance around any politeness, “How’s your mouth?”
Gerald blinked at her, smile still genuine on his face, albeit rather confused, blush around beginning to tingle beneath his skin.
“Excuse me?”
“I mean that-“ Sheila’s coy smile almost made Gerald squirm, hands twitchy and aching for something to tinker with, if only to pour his ever growing anxiety into something.
“Eric!”
A loud yell cut off the youngest Birling, her face dropping into her usual, neutral mask. Next to Gerald, Eric jumped, eyes darting around for the source of the explosive sound before landing somewhere behind Gerald and filling up with unhidden panic. Spinning on his right heel, the Croft was immedia faced with the face of Mr Birling, who stood just short of the doorway that led to the family’s ballroom with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw. Said eyes seemed to gloss right over Gerald, instead glaring at the man beside him with that oh so familiar venom.
“I can’t believe you!” once again, the man’s yells echoed around the room, pushing Gerald to shift closer to his partner, “I mean seriously, what were you thinking?! Oh I’m sorry! I forgot that you’ve rotted your brain with that-“
“Father.”
Sheila’s voice cut through the incoming rant steadily, fists clenching into her overly frilled dress.
At her father’s inquisitive silence, she motioned her head at Gerald as if he were the answer to whatever problem these fools had created. He shifted slightly as the room’s attention flew to him, Eric’s eyes just as wide as Mrs Birling’s.
“Hello, Mr Birling. It’s a pleasure to-“
Gerald once again found himself getting cut off by the man, however this time it was nothing more than a loud huff. Blinking, he stared at the other, once more shuffling as discreetly as he could to stand right next to Eric. The oldest Birling sibling made no movement, but something in his eyes shifted slightly from panicked to reassured and a warm sensation rushed through Gerald at the sight.
Of course, Mr Birling took the opportunity to scoff and the warmth quickly froze over like Hell itself. Large, brown eyes flickered to his ex in-law as Gerald opened his mouth to attempt to continue what he was originally going to say.
Unfortunately enough, Mr Birling held up one hand and glared furiously at him, causing Gerald’s heart to fall straight through his intestines into the ground like a body falling into a grave.
Fuck.
“We know, Croft.” Tensing, Gerald’s mouth snapped shut then flopped open again as he desperately tried to come up with a way of denying it before the other carried on with a firm voice, “The military called.”
That was when Gerald raised an eyebrow and any previous panic fled to be replaced with pure bewilderment. Not only had he not interacted with Eric while serving, but he found it highly unlikely that they would know his name from the thousands if not millions that were drafted. It was on the letter that he had used to invite Eric over, but that could be read in anyway and the army was all about “don’t ask, don’t tell”, right?
Mr Birling’s glare made the little confidence in himself shrivel up as Gerald fought the urge to take a step back and cower behind his partner. Unfortunately under these circumstances, he felt like that would only infuriate the man further, especially if the elder had really figured them out.
Huffing, Mr Birling continued, hands clenching at his sides, “And you know what they said, Mr Croft?”
Against his better instincts, Gerald let out a small squeak before he could stop himself, placing a hand in front of his mouth as if that would save his long-dead dignity from a brutal and bloody slaughter. He shook his head mutely, forcing himself to make direct eye contact with his partner’s father.
“Someone damaged government property.” Sharply inhaling, Gerald stood up just a bit straighter; a feral need to protect had raced through his blood, forcing him to stand at attention like he was in the army once more. Mr Birling was as oblivious as ever and paused, sweeping his eyes over the room hungrily like a rabid dog in need of meat to gnaw and rip at with aching canines.
“In other words,” clearly he had been satisfied by his family’s reactions, “someone gave Eric here-”, said Birling exhaled slowly in resignation, “a hickey or two.”
For a second, Gerald’s memory lapsed and he blinked in astonishment, head snapping to stare at the man beside him. Eric simply blinked back, face rushing a bright vibrant red and the Croft dimly wished that he had been the one to give it to him.
Wait.
Gerald’s head snapped back to Mr Birling and his hands flew up to nervously motion around him, as if he were on trial and searching for someone to jab his finger at. Unfortunately, there were only Birlings in the room and so, Gerald hung his head in resignation, shuffling his feet in an almost pathetic attempt to move behind his boyfriend. Eric huffed before Mr Birling sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face, disappointment clear in his eyes as he commented, “At least, one of my … children will marry you.”
The effect was lost as instead of muttering, the man yelled it in his usual Rottweiler manner. The moment his words pierced through the air, his wife’s face flushed a vibrant, furious red and Eric bit his lip uncomfortably. And then, Gerald made a snap decision for once in his life and grabbed his partner’s wrist in order to drag him into Eric’s bedroom, far, far away from the main room.
If it weren’t for Eric’s steady pulse under his touch, he would think that this was a nightmare; maybe if he tried hard enough, he would wake up in his own bed.
Or rather Eric’s.