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emotionalcadaver · 11 months

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Part 3: A Remedy for Sorrow

Fandom: Dunkirk

Pairing: Shivering Soldier x OC

Summary: An insightful conversation with an unlikely figure helps Henry to reevaluate things between him and Daisy.

Word Count: 3,690

Notes: Warnings for depictions of PTSD, guilt, smut, and references to torture. As always, if smut isn’t your thing, feel free to skip over that part of the chapter. Henry Wilson is the name for the Shivering Soldier created by the lovely people over @henry-wilson.

Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

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Chapter 5: The Belonging

Wiping at his cheeks with trembling fingers, Henry attempted to collect the moisture left from the tears he’d been crying all the way during his walk to the train station. The next train didn’t leave for half an hour, which meant that he needed to find some way to burn away the remaining time.

The pub closest to the train wasn’t one that he often frequented with Daisy. It had slim pickings as far as offerings, and mostly just housed people like him; looking to kill the time until the next train was in. Sliding into a seat in the far corner, he weakly ordered a beer, fighting hard not to sniffle too loudly, his cheeks red both from his tears and his embarrassment at crying in public.

It was the right thing to do. That was what he kept trying to tell himself, over and over again as he walked down the road and further and further away from Daisy’s cottage. She was free from him now.

Curling his hands around the glass set in front of him, he shivered at the aching, empty loneliness that had opened up inside of him.

It was the right thing to do. It was the right thing to do. It was the right thing to do.

But god, the look in her eyes right before he stepped out the door…

“Hullo, Henry. I thought that was you.”

He just about jumped out of his skin at the voice as a figure slipped into the seat across from him. Collins pushed a few stray strands of blonde hair off of his forehead, smiling warmly.

“Hullo, Collins.”

“I heard that you were in town,” the pilot continued on. Either he didn’t notice the clear evidence that Henry had been crying, or was too polite to say anything.

“Mhm.”

His eyes dipped down to the suitcase at Henry’s feet, brows pulling together. “Everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” Henry said into his glass, still not quite meeting Collins’s eyes. Collins cocked his head curiously.

“Are you leaving?”

He sighed, heavily. “Yes.”

“Really? I ran into Daisy at the library earlier and she made it sound like you were pretty settled for the moment.”

Henry shrugged noncommittally, really just wishing that Collins would take the hint and leave him alone. “I’ve spent too long here already,” he mumbled, taking another sip from his glass. Collins laid an arm across the back of his seat, frowning, before glancing down at his own pint.

“Where are you planning to go?”

“I’m not sure. Probably back home to see my mum.”

“Hm,” Collins hummed, glancing around the pub. “I’ve been all over. Only was home for about a month before I had to get out of there,” he shook his head.

“What do you mean?” Henry asked, brows furrowing.

“Oh, well. You know how it is…with the stares, the looks of judgment…” Collins shrugged. Henry blinked. Collins was a war hero; he would have thought that people would be in awe of him. “I had to go see Farrier’s family, you know. Explain to them why…why it was me and not him that made it out of there alive. Why I wasn’t in the air to help him…” he trailed off, face twitching before he glanced down.

“I’m sorry,” Henry croaked, unsure of what else to say. Collins gave him a humorless, saddened smile.

“It’s just how it goes, right? Do you still get nightmares?”

“All the time.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“Of what?”

“Most of the time it’s of drowning in my spitfire after it hit the water. Sometimes it's of the dogfights. Other times the oil. You?”

“Drowning, mostly,” he eyed Collins cautiously, as if he were just seeing him for the first time. He immediately felt guilty; for assuming that the pilot had everything all sorted out. That he didn’t also live with an insurmountable amount of trauma and guilt. “How long are you in town for?” he asked, eager to change the subject.

“Not sure yet. I suppose it’ll depend on how long it takes for the Dawsons to get sick of me. Have you visited them yet? I’ve been staying in their spare room.”

“No, no, I haven’t” he coughed slightly. “I didn’t think that would be the best idea.”

“Why not?”

Henry shrugged. “‘Cause of what I did,” he really, really hoped that Collins wasn’t about to make him come out and say it.

“Oh. Well, I don’t think anyone blames you for that. Not even Peter. Certainly not Mr. Dawson. I think I overheard him even talking about inviting you and Daisy over for dinner sometime…When do you think you’ll be back?”

“I won’t,” Henry ducked his head down, shoulders curling in on themselves. He could feel Collins’s eyes burning into him.

“Daisy really likes you,” the pilot said finally, carefully. Henry made a pained sound in the back of his throat.

“She deserves better.”

“I think that she would strongly disagree with that sentiment,” Collins said shrewdly. Henry tried not to wince.

Don’t tell me what I do or don’t deserve! That’s not up to you.

“After what I did…I don’t…” he sighed in frustration.

“You don’t think that you deserve to be happy?” Collins stated simply. Henry looked up at him in surprise. Collins shrugged. “Most days, I can’t help but think what right do I have, to be walking around, enjoying my life, when my comrade is…honestly, probably worse than dead. I lie awake at night, and I think about what the Germans probably did to him, what they might still be doing to him. Right now. And I think about how it should have been me, instead of him,” Collins took a long, deep drink from his beer. “And then I remember that thinking those types of thoughts aren’t really of much help to anyone, least of all to Farrier,” he fixed Henry with his kind blue eyes. “Look, Henry, can I call you Henry?” he waited until Henry gave a tiny nod to continue. “I’m not going to tell you what you should do, or anything like that. But Peter’s told me a lot about George, since I’ve been here, and…making yourself and her miserable as some form of self-inflicted penance would be the last thing that boy would have wanted.”

Outside, there was bustling as the train started to board passengers. Henry didn’t move, just staring at Collins in silent contemplation. Collins smiled at him, eyes looking into his knowingly, before he downed the remainder of his pint and stood.

“But those are just my thoughts on the whole thing. I’ll leave you to it. You better get moving, before you miss your train,” he nodded towards the door as the train’s whistle shrieked outside. And then he was out the door, gone with the only trace that he’d been there at all being the coaster and empty glass still sitting on the table across from Henry. The train whistled again; a final call for any other passengers.

And still he did not move.

∗ ∗ ∗

Daisy’s fingers stroked rhythmically through Ghost’s fur, intermittently sniffling and wiping at her eyes. The dog whined at her distress, adjusting his head in her lap.

“Good boy,” she choked out, lip trembling as she continued to cry. A part of her wished that she’d chased after Henry when he’d left the cottage; but it wasn’t like she was going to force him to stay with her. Not if he didn’t want to.

Chest aching, she leaned her head back against the couch, trying her hardest to get her tears to stop.

She had just started to doze off, head aching and nose stuffy from all the crying, when the creak of wood roused her. And then Ghost barked, making her jump, before leaping from her and heading towards the front door, tail wagging. Heavy footsteps against the floor, as she turned her head despondently away to just stare straight ahead at nothing in particular.

“You came back,” she said softly. Henry grunted a little as he sat down on the floor beside her.

“Yeah.”

“Hm,” was the only sound she made, nodding more to herself than to him. He fiddled with his hands anxiously.

“I’m sorry,” he said after a long pause. “I thought that-that it would be best…”

Daisy made a choked off sound, wiping at her cheeks for the thousandth time. At the distressed sound, Henry moved in a little closer, reaching out for her. He cupped her chin, tilting her head up until she was finally looking at him, and she gasped at the red rimmed eyes and tear-swollen cheeks she was greeted with. Henry gave her a wobbly, regretful smile, thumb trying to brush away her tears.

“God, I’m so sorry–”

“I don’t need you to make my decisions for me,” the defiant stubbornness in her words was greatly undercut by the shakiness of her voice. Henry nodded.

“I know. I know, I’m sorry. I-I panicked.”

She raised a trembling hand to his face, stroking over his cheekbone. His eyes fluttered at the touch. “Why?”

He hesitated. “I, erm, I saw George’s mother, at the market,” at her widening eyes, he hastily added, “I didn’t talk to her or anything, but…she was crying. And buying flowers for the grave,” he looked away.

“Oh, love…” Daisy whispered, cradling his cheek in her palm. He didn’t pull away.

“And then I saw you talking with Collins, and I couldn’t stop thinking that you deserved better than me. Someone brave and heroic, and good–”

“Henry…you are all of those things, love. And Collins is just a friend, you don’t need to worry about him.”

“I know,” his voice broke and he swallowed. She realized that one of his hands had come to rest on her waist, holding her firmly.

“What made you change your mind?”

Henry dipped his head sheepishly. “I ran into Collins at the pub while waiting for a train. He said…some things that made a lot of sense.”

“Oh,” she continued to gently stroke his face. “Good. Good. I’m glad that you came back,” she leaned closer until her head rested against the crook of his neck. She could feel his pulse hammering away, strong and steady.

“Daisy, what I said, earlier,” he added hastily. “I meant it when I said that I don’t think that I’m going to get much better than this. The nightmares, the flashbacks, even the mood swings…”

“That’s okay,” she soothed. “That’s okay. I’ll help you.”

His bottom lip trembled. “I’m scared of becoming a burden. I’m scared that I’ll ruin your life.”

“Oh, love,” she shook her head back and forth furiously. “You could never. You could never. I don’t mind it. Any of it,” when he opened his mouth, probably to argue, she rested her fingers carefully on his lips, head tilting fondly. “I’ve got my own heaps of issues, love. Believe me. And do you mind helping me through any of those?”

Already he was shaking his head. Before she’d even finished the sentence. “Of course not.”

“See? So why would I have any problem helping you with yours?”

Henry shuddered, head dropping to rest against her collarbone while his arms wound around her waist. “I love you.”

Her bottom lip trembled, but this time the tears welling in her eyes were from happiness; not from sorrow. Curling her head in forward, she let her nose bury in his dark hair, hugging him back firmly. “I love you too.”

Henry let out a little sob and clutched her closer to him. When he lifted his head, his eyes were glassy, big hand raising to stroke her face.

“Can I kiss you?”

Her heart leapt excitedly into her throat, nodding. “Yes.”

One of his hands curled around to cradle the back of her head, the other resting on her waist. He pulled her in slowly, her hands coming to rest on his chest, feeling the way that his breaths trembled and heaved in his lungs. His mouth descended on hers at first softly, gently, barely even brushing her lips with his. As if he half expected her to pull away. Daisy’s hands fisted in the front of his shirt, pulling him in closer insistently until he chuckled against her lips, mouth parting against hers to kiss her deeper while his hand tangled in her hair.

One of her hands cupped his cheek, thumb sweeping over a sharp cheekbone. When she moved to press herself even closer to him, practically seating herself into his lap, he groaned, deep and rumbly in his chest.

His hand was still frustratingly, respectfully placed on her waist, even as she wrapped her arms and her legs around him, kissing him deeply until he made that groaning sound again. And when she settled herself more firmly into his lap, it was to find that he was more than interested in what she was doing, grinning triumphantly against his lips.

She whined when he tore his mouth away from her, only to sigh blissfully as his lips started to work their way across one of her cheeks, down her neck, to suck briefly on her collarbone.

“Henry,” she murmured, hand tangling in his hair, back arching, pressing her clothed breasts firmly against him, bringing her hips down on his erection in a small grind.

“Fuckkkkkk,” he cursed, hands clenching where they held her. Laying her hand over the one he still had rested on her waist, she guided it upward, until he was cupping one of her breasts, and he moaned, head raising up to kiss her again. She shrieked and then laughed as he suddenly stood with her in his arms, hands anchoring against her backside to keep her held tight to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she buried her face in his neck, breathing him in as he started to carry them to her bedroom. She bounced once against the mattress as he laid her down on it, crawling over her to kiss her again. Sitting up enough for him to pull off her cardigan, she cupped his face for a brief moment before allowing her hands to slide down his chest, smoothing out against the soft material of his shirt.

“This okay?” he asked, and she jumped at the sensation of his warm hands slipping up her skirt and rubbing over her thighs.

“Yes,” she pecked his lips, once, then twice. “Yes.”

He slid down her body languidly, bunching the skirt of her dress up around her waist, and she trembled with anticipation as he began to situate himself between her legs eagerly. His fingers hooked in her knickers, eyes darting up to hers, waiting until she gave a small nod of permission to pull them down her legs.

“Oh,” she murmured, body jerking as he unceremoniously buried his face between her thighs. Fingers threading through his hair, she clung on for dear life as he began to suck and lick at her in earnest, working her over with expert movements. Whining, Daisy arched her back, moaning lewdly when he circled his tongue around her clit. He groaned at the way her fingers clenched in his hair when he slipped a thick finger inside of her, pumping swiftly, crooking in just the right way to make her cry out. Henry growled when her walls clenched around him. “I’m close,” she sighed, feeling the telltale sensation of pleasure coiling in her belly.

Henry pulled away and she made a small noise of great complaint, pouting up at him. Laughing, he sat up to pull his shirt off, tossing it to the floor before curling over her, kissing her with a grin.

“Not yet, love,” he pecked her once more on the mouth before coaxing her to sit up so he could pull her dress the rest of the way off. Her hands fell to his pants while he fumbled with her bra. The belt clinked as she undid it, and he grunted, hands smoothing over the bare skin of her back as he dropped her bra off the side of the bed, when she slipped her fingers into his pants and underwear. He was heavy in her palm. And warm.

Movements more frantic, more needy, Daisy fumbled to get him out of his pants and underwear. Kissing along her neck, Henry shifted to help her, kicking them off the rest of the way.

Breathing heavy, the both stopped a moment just to stare at one another, faces still so close their noses were practically brushing. Henry gulped.

“Okay?” he asked, voice tentative. Daisy brushed her fingertips along his face, trying to memorize every tiny detail about him. The freckles, the ocean blue eyes, the leanly muscled physique.

“Yes,” she nodded, and his forehead came to rest against hers, lashes lowered. She felt it as the thick tip of his cock nudged at her entrance, legs wrapping around his waist in an attempt to draw him in closer. “Henry…”

“Mm,” he groaned, realigning his hips with hers, bracing himself above her with one hand planted on the mattress next to her head. Her fingers clenched against the warm skin of his back as he sank into her with one long, slow thrust of his hips. “Oh, god.”

The stretch burned, ever so slightly, thighs trembling as she tightened them around him. Sweeping some of his dark fringe out of his eyes, she angled her head up to kiss him again. Henry moaned, rolling his hips forward in an experimental thrust, and they both groaned.

“Daisy,” he said, nuzzling at her cheek as he began to set a pace that was somewhere between rough and gentle. Tracing her fingers along his spine earned her a shiver, and then a breathless laugh when she reached down to squeeze his ass, encouraging him to thrust harder.

“Henry, so good,” she arched her back, gripping him tighter, wanting nothing more than to have him as close as possible. His body was warm, muscles strong under her hands, and he was looking at her like she hung the moon and all the stars in the sky. He nipped lightly at her neck and collarbone, yet was still nuzzling at her affectionately. Practically bathing her in his love. She continued to trace her touch along his back, felt at his biceps and shoulders, his chest. And every time that his hips bucked forward into hers, she raised her own to meet him, shuddering at how good he felt inside of her. Stretching her so wide for a moment she thought that he might break her in two. And every once in a while she felt him pulse within her.

His lips sucked at her collarbone at the same time that his fingers stroked at her clit, and she let out a shout, body tensing around him, trying to pull him closer. The pleasurable feeling in the pit of her stomach had returned, building with every movement, every touch. Her walls fluttered and tightened around Henry’s cock. No doubt he felt it, as he grunted deeply and increased his pace, pumping into her more urgently. Twisting her hand in his hair, she raised his head enough that she was able to kiss him messily, both of them gasping and moaning into each other’s mouths, the bed springs creaking in complaint of their combined movements.

The band snapped inside of her all of a sudden, with very little warning. And then she was crying out his name and clutching at his back like it was the only thing holding her to earth, head thrown back but eyes wide open as she came explosively around him. Henry let out a particularly loud moan at that, fucking her through it roughly. Even as she finally came down, he was still moving at that desperate, slow but rough pace, the slap of his hips meeting hers echoing throughout the room. Inside her, his cock twitched and throbbed, as he drew blatantly close to his own orgasm. Daisy touched his face lovingly.

“Come on, love, come. Come for me, please? Please, Henry?” she murmured sweetly into his ear. He made a strangled sound, burying his face in her neck, thrusts growing faster until he suddenly tensed and stilled, letting out a bellowing sound that might have been her name. Every muscle of his seemed to grow tense for a moment as she felt the first copious spurts of his orgasm, and then he relaxed, slumping on top of her, breathing hard. Daisy stroked a hand over his hair and along his neck, cheek resting on the top of his head.

It wasn’t until both of their breathing had returned relatively to normal that he lifted his face up enough to look at her, all big blue eyes and freckles and parted plump lips. She smiled at him tenderly, giggling as he stretched up to kiss her one last time before he pulled out with a groan and rolled to lay beside her. As he moved, he captured her in the circle of his arms, so that she was held firmly against his chest. Neither of them said anything; they didn’t need to. Instead they just laid there, stroking each other’s faces and kissing languidly.

“Stay here, tonight?” she asked as she settled down more comfortably against his chest, already feeling the powerful pull of sleep tugging at her eyelids. His chest was comfy; warm and strong but the skin was soft, dotted with beautiful little freckles. Henry’s thumb rubbed circles into her back.

“I might have nightmares,” he warned, nervously.

“That’s alright.”

“I might wake you up,” he continued. Daisy gave him the kindest smile that she could manage, laying her head down directly over his heart.

“That’s okay, too.”

He looked into her eyes, as if searching to make sure that she was telling the truth. When he found no lie in them, he nodded wordlessly, leaning forward to press a kiss to the top of her head.

They fell asleep like that; all warm and tangled together. Happy and even a little bit peaceful.

Thank you for reading! Please consider leaving a comment, reblog, or like. I always appreciate feedback and love getting the opportunity to interact with you and hear your thoughts!

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Masterlists: Main • Series • Fic

#shivering soldier #dunkirk #henry wilson #shivering soldier x oc #henry wilson x oc #daisy preston #daisy preston x shivering soldier #daisy preston x henry wilson #my ocs #my fanfiction #fanfiction #a remedy for sorrow

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