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The new place was nice. Charles really liked it.
Each had their own room. Someone of his rank could pretty much guarantee his own living space, and of course Ellie had her own apartment on the story above them. But the important thing to note here was that Henry had his own room.
So.
Charles stood in rumpled clothes, still half-asleep and stomach growling, squinting through dim lighting at the lump on the couch.
The misshapen thing under a plethora of blankets was vaguely human-shaped, and faintly moving so probably alive.
Being the expert, covert-ops agent he was, Charles used his incredible deductive reasoning and called out to it.
“Henry?”
The lump pulled back blankets like a giant clam opening a shell, a tired-looking thief peeking between quilt and throw to stare at the ace pilot.
Charles’ mind ran through a gambit of ideas. Too cold? Bed uncomfortable? He saw a spider? There had to be some reason for the ex-criminal to be holed up on the couch like an animal in hibernation.
“You okay, dude?” He asked, scrubbing the sleep from his eyes.
Henry nodded quickly, eyes dark and careful. He was a hard guy to read.
Charles scratched his cheek.
“You sure?”
Another nod.
“Yeah, okay,” He wriggled his fingers in the direction of the next room. “So, uh...Will it bug you if I’m in the kitchen for a second?”
A shake of the head.
“You want anything?”
Another shake.
He felt a little awkward as he shuffled into the kitchen. Having your every move scrutinized by a guy who spent his adult life analyzing people, places, and security systems was a little nerve wracking, even on ace pilots with little nerves to wrack.
So why was Henry sleeping in the living room, anyway?
Charles gave the inside of the fridge a disappointed look at its stores, chewing on his lower lip.
Henry wasn’t talkative. He might not answer. And Charles felt like an asshole when Henry signed and he had to ask him to slow down, start again, didn’t catch that sorry, friend.
He was learning. Sometimes he just felt a little slow.
The pilot fiddled around in the pantry, picking out a dismal bag of pretzels and lightly kicking the door shut behind him.
Henry was still watching him.
Charles stared back. He reached for a single pretzel. Wondered if it was more socially acceptable to take a tiny bite of a pretzel or to eat it whole in order to not look like a neanderthal stuffing his face.
Henry was a thin guy. Not just like...skinny, he remembered him hell of a lot more lean when they first met. More muscle.
Well. Technically he’d been in an illegal prison for god knows how long- wait, why hadn’t he asked that yet? Had someone asked that?
Maybe they felt awkward. Unsure of where they stood with him. Nervous, even though that wasn’t normal for them. Maybe they felt like an asshole when they couldn’t understand Henry and were afraid to push him away so far he’d disappear.
Charles swallowed and it might as well have been sand in his mouth.
There was a clock ticking on the wall. Personally that would have driven him nuts, that tiny sound rattling around in his head while he tried to sleep.
He didn’t want him to disappear.
He didn’t want him to disappear so badly it confused him. He really liked Ellie, he really liked Henry, and the three of them were such an incredible team. He wanted a future like this, a squad of oddballs to take down the little camps of Toppats that remained, and most of all he wanted to get to know the strange, close-mouthed, mysterious people he was starting to call his friends.
Ah, fuck it. Bold Action Man jumping into it yet again.
“Hey, uh...Henry,” Charles bounded over to the couch, plopping his ass down on the coffee table so close to the thief that his knees pressed against the couch. “Take a pretzel.”
The thief’s brows furrowed, nose scrunching.
Charles shook the bag enticingly. “I want to ask you a question. Take a pretzel.”
Henry gave him a look, incredulous and confused.
But he did also take a pretzel.
Charles waited for him to bite into it before letting his question spill out.
“How old are you?”
Henry cocked his head, like he might not have heard him right. He lifted one of his hands to sign.
‘What?’ He asked, or Charles was pretty sure he asked. What was supposed to be signed with two hands.
Charles licked his lips.
“Your files are sealed,” He explained, “And they never gave me a dossier of information on you- normally I’d get that if you were in my group, but yeah, uh, yeah. Sealed files. How old are you?”
An interesting expression flit over Henry’s face. Instead of answering, he pointed to Charles.
“I’m twenty-eight. Almost twenty-nine. Thirty’s approaching hard, man.”
Henry’s lips curved in the barest hint of a smug smile. He waggled his hand.
‘Same.’
Same? They were the same age?
“Cool,” Charles said, and Henry’s reluctant smile blossomed into something warmer. “Yeah, that’s cool. So….”
He shrugged his shoulders in something he hoped was incredibly casual. “Yeah. Do...questions bother you?”
Henry’s eyes narrowed again, this time a little less unfriendly. More puzzled than defensive.
“Look, I’m not asleep, you’re not asleep...there’s some things picking at my brain. Are you okay with that?”
Henry shifted, pushing himself upward, until his torso emerged from his blanket-home. He shrugged, which wasn’t really permission or denial, and Charles chewed on the inside of his cheek.
It was just hard with Henry. He didn’t know where his boundaries were. He wanted to stop floating around and get to know the guy, but Henry had never told him to back off and Charles wasn’t sure if he’d do that or one day just bam, he asked too much of him, bye.
He didn’t want to push too hard.
“Take a pretzel,” Charles offered again, to Henry’s bemused befuddlement. “Or don’t, and I’ll leave you alone. It’s up to you, Henry, I’m not gonna back you into a corner.”
The thief’s brows raised, a new interest washing over his face like sunlight over frozen fields. His dark eyes flit over Charles, curiosity blooming.
And Henry reached out to take another from the bag.
Holy shit. Okay, then, Calvin, not bad.
His megawatt grin had to be frightening at this point but Charles was totally incapable of reining it in. He shifted, arms over knees, leaning towards Henry’s space.
“Something no one’s ever figured out about you,” Charles began, and Henry’s smile turned to more of a smirk. “It’s a big point of contention, you know. Were you a professional thief for yourself or contractors?”
Henry’s smirk was knife-sharp, and he signed slowly and fluidly.
‘Both.’ He let that word sit for a second and signed something Charles didn’t recognize, something squiggly and leaving his hand. ‘- was for myself.’
“What was?” Charles asked. “I don't recognize that word.”
Henry literally spelled it out for him:
‘D-I-A-M-O-N-D’
Huh. Charles cocked his head. That’d be the one he’d assume was contracted. Why the hell would he want to steal something so high-profile for?
He warred with himself. He could ask. Should he? Would he be pushing it?
Henry rolled his eyes and roughly grabbed the bag, taking another pretzel.
Literally giving Charles permission.
“Oh!” He said, stupidly, before fumbling. “Yeah! Uh, why choose something that’s pretty sure to get you caught? You had to know everyone in the world would be on your ass for that.”
Henry tilted his head, absently scratching the stubble of his chin.
‘Wanted to see if I could.’
His eyes were half-lidded, dark, a slow curve in his lips.
‘And I could.’
Charles tore his gaze away from his mouth. “Except for all the DNA you left behind, huh?”
Henry’s smile melted into a deadpan stare, irritation in his expression.
Charles grinned crookedly and Henry snatched another snack from him.
“Yeah, okay, then have you taken any contracts for Toppats?” He asked, and got the feeling he might’ve impressed Henry with that one.
At least he looked impressed, regarding Charles anew and signing more quickly.
‘Sort of. Split a job with a couple, but I never worked for them.’
“What was the job for?”
‘Someone’s violin,’ Henry lifted a shoulder. ‘Expensive.’
“A Stradivarius, huh?”
Oh now he actually did impress Henry that time, the look of approval was making his ears burn.
“Nah, I just hear things, following Toppats,” Charles squirmed on the coffee table. “Think I’ve handled more precious things than anyone should ever give to me.”
Henry’s hands jerked, like he might say something, but ultimately they came back to rest in his place of comfort.
Charles rubbed his cheek on his shoulder, trying to look nonchalant. He could feel Henry staring at him again.
He reached out, took another pretzel, absently breaking it in half.
Henry really wasn’t bothered by this. He knew he could just do nothing and Charles would leave him alone, but he was letting him ask.
Well. Might as well try and get a little more personal.
“Hey, curious,” Charles prefaced, “How’d you call me from the prison?”
Henry raised an eyebrow. ‘You gave me your phone number.’
Oh shit, he had, hadn’t he? The heat in his face was back full-force, and Charles scrambled for a foothold in this conversation.
“W- well, yeah-” Oh God, he’d really done that, hadn’t he? He totally forgot he did that. “I uh...I just mean…” If the General ever found out, he’d kill him. “I mean, you didn’t you know, keep that around with you or anything?”
Now Henry looked a little twitchy. He shuffled awkwardly, gaze darting into the corners of the apartment.
‘Remembered it.’
“You remembered it?”
Charles could barely remember his own ever-changing phone number, much less some random’s number dropped casually on him as he left a mission he never signed up for.
Neither of them were looking at each other. Henry’s reach for a pretzel was a bit blind.
“So uh…” Change of subject. About how skinny Henry was- “How long were you there?”
‘Couple hours.’
Charles squinted at Henry’s hands. He must’ve misunderstood that. “Sorry. Can you say that again?”
‘Couple hours.’
Was he mixing things up? Charles chewed the inside of his cheek.
“Hours?” He asked tentatively.
Henry nodded.
Charles had to stop and think for a second.
General G had not been happy about Charles going near the Wall, for reasons he didn’t wholly understand, but to the best of his knowledge it was an illegal prison in some kind of northern micronation type thing, filled to the brim with people certain entities wanted to disappear. And disappear they did, often, and thrown out a chute to decompose into the sea.
And all run by a guy who’s name had made Hubert Galeforce flinch.
And what was the thief saying to him?
“A couple fucking hours, Henry?” Charles couldn’t help. “It’s supposed to be inescapable!”
The delight in Henry’s expression was warming.
‘It isn’t.’
Holy shit. The guy really was a hot commodity, wasn’t he? That’s why the General had been so adamant they get Henry to stay. Charles really didn’t know the scope of it after all.
But the thief was signing again, spelling out the trio of their group’s name.
‘I needed E-L-L-I-E for it all to work.’
Aw. Charles propped his chin up on his hand, mischievous. “Honor among thieves, huh?”
The look he got was unamused.
But really, he doubted he needed Ellie in order to get out. He’d think it’d be harder, actually, but that was leading Charles into his next question.
“Why did you help her?” He asked, and Henry froze up a little.
He shrugged.
Charles squirmed.
Well this was...pointing in a certain direction. He didn’t really have the balls to ask if Henry and her were...you know. A thing. It made him feel nauseous for absolutely, disgustingly, flooringly embarrassing reasons.
Henry was staring at him again, all analytical coldness. He reached for the bag, and Charles had half a mind to snatch it away and fly from the room before something stupid could come out of his mouth.
But he held still, helpless, wincing as Henry drew another pretzel from the bag in almost ritualistic solemnity.
Don’t ask it. Don’t you dare fucking ask it, Charles Calvin, pick literally anything else.
“Why’d you call me?” He blurted, desperately looking around Henry’s face as if that was where he could find his answers. “Because you remembered the number?”
Henry was shaking his head, brows scrunched.
‘No.’
He paused shortly thereafter, head tilting this way and that.
‘Yes. Maybe.’
Oof. He winced, and he knew he did a really bad job of covering it because Henry winced with him. Before he could apologize, Henry was shaking his head at him.
‘Don’t take it like that,’ The thief’s eyes were serious, dark. Pretty. His jaw was set. ‘I knew you’d come if I asked you.’
Charles bit his lip, trying to look at Henry the same way the thief looked at other people. To read, acknowledge, translate. But the other was so impassive. Guarded. If he didn’t want Charles to see anything, he couldn’t.
He couldn’t, but even he could see the tenseness in Henry’s shoulders. Like a man who made a misstep.
Which one made the misstep? Charles wasn’t sure.
Still, Henry reached for another conversation starter, still bold enough to let Charles keep putting his foot in his mouth. He kept eye contact this time, as well, leaning back on one arm and gaze traveling the length of Charles’ body.
His tongue felt thick in his mouth.
“Why…” Nope. Charles clamped his mouth shut. Too early to ask that.
Henry frowned at him in a way that felt disapproving.
The damn clock ticked on, and Charles was all too aware of the silence between them.
“No, I thought better of it,” He joked, sweat beading down his neck. “Uh...let me think of something else-”
Henry aggressively jerked forward, making Charles jump, grabbing a handful of pretzels with a piercing, violent gaze.
Ask me, the gesture said, demanded, loud and clear, Sir.
“Why’d you agree to this?” Charles asked the question he damn well knew he didn’t deserve to ask yet. He asked it carefully, in measured tones, staring at Henry’s shoulder. His tone was way calmer than he felt. “Triple Threat. You paid your debt to the General.”
About a hundred times over, even. Everyone was pretty happy with the outcome, he and Ellie could have fucked off to wherever with a decent stock of money and clean records. But Henry agreed to this. After Ellie, but she seemed to be more willing for groupwork than Henry.
I mean, that’s just the vibe Charles got. He still didn’t know them super well.
He lifted his gaze to the thief’s face, mouth dry and feeling like he’d made a premature error.
But Henry was smiling at him. Not just smiling, but fond. Like what Charles had asked was endearing, not embarrassing, not out of line and awkward. He was smiling at him like Charles was endearing, not out of line or awkward.
“Charles,” Henry said, and his voice was low but clear. Chills shivered down the pilots back, despite this not being the first time he’d heard him speak.
Just the first time he’d ever heard him use that tone.
And Henry flung his hands outward, about two dozen pretzels showering the pilot and cracking against the table, rolling merrily across the rug, skittering across the floor.
Well, come to think of it, he’d only seen Henry eat the first one.
Charles brushed pretzel dust from his shirt and Henry snuggled back into his cocoon of blankets.
He rubbed his mouth against his sleeve again, as if that could stifle the laugh he wanted to let out.
“Yeah, alright,” Charles said, and the laugh colored his voice anyhow, “Got it loud and clear.”
Henry reclined comfortably, lazily watching as Charles stood and finished dusting himself off.
Nah, but this was actually a pretty decent night. He was amazed Henry would bother to answer that much stupid stuff without getting annoyed with him. Even now he didn’t look irritated with him, more amused than anything.
Charles met his eyes again, and Henry’s smile was reflected in them, a new brightness he wasn’t sure he’d seen before.
Something shifted, here. Something was different. He’d have to figure out what.
Sometime when he wasn’t suddenly extremely tired.
“I’m going to bed,” He told Henry, who nodded at him from his bed on the couch.
Oh.
Goddammit, he forgot to ask why the hell he was on the couch to begin with- that had been the whole point.
Honestly. Charles groaned at himself, stalking off towards his bedroom, stopping short to stare at the clock still ticking ominously from its place on the wall.
He stared at it, one hand on the doorknob of his room, and turned around.
“One last question,” He said, and saw Henry tense.He pointed to the clock. “Want me to shut this thing up for you?”
Henry’s wary expression melted to warmth.
‘Please,” He signed.
Charles picked the ugly thing off the wall, turned it around and popped the battery out. Finally, the damn thing was silent, and the living room was in true and blissful quiet.
When he glanced up, Henry looked approving. Charles felt like maybe he wasn’t such a cockup after all.
“So…” He drew out, shooting Henry what was hopefully his most charming wink-and-finger-gun combination. “See you tomorrow.”
Henry nodded, slowly, leaning against the armrest of the couch. “Goodnight, Charles.”
And after shutting the door to his room, Charles felt like he could breathe again.
All in all, that actually went pretty well. He could worry about picking all that up tomorrow morning.