Archive of Our Own

Henry liked his job as an animator. He had his own desk, his own tools, and his teammates weren’t so bad. He wasn’t the newest addition to this studio, not anymore, but his coworkers still hadn’t seemed to catch on that he mostly wanted to be left alone.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to make friends. Friends were fine, he even had a few outside his workplace. 

But he didn’t like being bothered while trying to focus, and he wasn’t much a fan of the… okay, there just wasn’t a kinder way of putting it: his coworkers could be somewhat ridiculous and dramatic at times. Not bad in small doses, but a full workday, five days a week, was not a small dose. Personality types didn’t always get along, and his was most definitely a cog that didn’t fit in with the rest of the clockwork.

“If you try to scare me while I’m doing this, Susie, Mr. Drew’s gonna have to find a new voice actor,” Henry said without looking away from the thin line he was inking. Her too-familiar click-clicking footsteps stopped at his left shoulder. 

“Aw, how’d you know it was me?” 

Leaning back, Henry sent her a look. “You have a distinct walk cycle.” 

He kept his expression deadpan even as he laughed internally at the face she made. The best part of maintaining a relatively unflappable facade was getting to watch people try and decide if he was being serious or not. Silly animator jokes were among his favorite types of humor, alongside sarcasm. 

From the first day Henry’d walked through the front door, Susie had, for some unholy reason, decided they were meant to be excellent friends. He wasn’t opposed on principle, but this decision of hers meant she was bolder than most of their coworkers and thus had no problem bothering him whenever she wanted. 

“You’re such a dork,” she finally said, correctly determining he was joking with her. She slapped his shoulder. “Come eat lunch with me.” 

“So demanding,” he snarked, cleaning up his workstation anyway. “Don’t you have other hapless animators to bully?” 

“Why would I do that when I can drag around my favorite?” She smiled sweetly at him and linked their arms. 

Henry went along with her without any real complaint. Susie was getting pretty good at deciphering his… everything, as his mother would put it. And when she wasn’t trying to sneak up on him, she wasn’t too bad. 

“You going to the Christmas party next weekend?” she asked as she led them to her favorite lounge. 

He didn’t know what it was about this particular break room that attracted all the worst gossips—maybe it was just that Susie, who seemed to know everything going on at the studio, preferred it and thus drew a crowd—but he usually spent his lunches listening to personal details about people he’d never even met. 

It was still better than the few times he’d eaten elsewhere. Gossips, at least, tried to stay quiet.

“Maybe,” he answered, holding the door open for her. “What’s on the menu?” 

“Oh, Joey always orders the best cupcakes. It’ll be worth your while for those alone, cross my heart.” She eyed him as they sat down. “Not a holiday person?” 

“Not a party person.” The corner of his mouth twitched up into a slight smile. “What, you couldn’t tell that about me?” 

“Henry Stein, you’re the most introverted person I’ve ever met,” Susie declared. Three other employees who were joining them at their table nodded along in immediate agreement. “But I figured even a work party would entice a goody-two shoes like you.” 

“Nice to know my prickly personality is still working; you’ve had me worried I was losing my touch. And I’m flattered you think I’m a goody-two shoes. Did you know teachers will let the quiet kids get away with almost anything?” He bit into his sandwich a tad smugly as his table-mates made startled, disbelieving noises.

Giggling, Susie knocked their shoulders together. “You are not saying you were a troublemaker in school.” 

“How dare you, Miss Campbell. I had an utterly spotless record.” Tilting his chin down a bit so he was looking at her from over the frames of his glasses, he let his devil’s grin slowly curl the corners of his mouth until a hint of teeth showed. His mother had usually thwacked his head with whatever she had on hand when she saw it. 

The others—Penny and Roe and Lana, if he remembered correctly—gasped. 

“No,” Roe said, setting aside their thermos. “You? An actual troublemaker?” 

“Do tell,” Penny said, wiggling in place. “Oh, old school stories are my favorite.” 

Susie got over her shock and smacked him with the back of her hand. “Henry! I didn’t know you had it in you.” 

“Didn’t I just say I don’t?” 

All four chuckled. “And here I thought ‘recluse’ best described you,” Lana said. She stirred her tea, eyeing him contemplatively. “But that smile’s got some milage to it, I can tell.” 

“My mother called it my devil’s grin, and she hated it,” he admitted wryly. “She’d get so exasperated—‘What did you do this time?’ she’d ask. ‘Nothing they can prove,’ I’d say.” 

“Nothing they can prove!” Roe repeated with a bark of laughter. “Oh, I wish I’d had that for when I was a kid.” 

They chatted for a while longer, Henry expertly sliding out of the conversation to simply observe. Other than Susie giving him a few knowing looks, the other three didn’t even notice his self-exclusion. 

Henry was just thinking about ducking out to return to his desk when everyone else around the circular table fell silent and turned their attention to somewhere over his head. A second later, Henry’s chair reverberated with the weight of two hands landing on the back. 

“Hey, Joey,” Roe said. 

Henry sighed. 

“Nice to see you out of the office, Mr. Drew,” Penny added, smiling shyly. 

Now, it wasn’t that Henry disliked his boss. But Joey Drew seemed to relish showmanship, which Henry found too loud and dramatic and fake, even for him and his purposeful poker-face. So long as Mr. Drew played the charmer, Henry wasn’t impressed. 

“Ladies, Roe, Henry,” Mr. Drew said from almost directly above him. “You’re all looking lovely this fine afternoon.” 

Penny giggled, Susie gave him doe-eyes, and even Lana’s cheeks tinted the slightest bit pink. Roe, the only one of them happily married, merely gave him a two-fingered salute. 

There was a conspicuous silence after that, and from the way Susie was looking at him, he knew what it meant. Already feeling tired, Henry leaned back a bit, tipped his head up, and wasn’t surprised to find Mr. Drew leaning so far over his chair that he really was right over Henry. He was grinning down at him. 

Henry raised an eyebrow. Mr. Drew reminded him of upperclassmen who thought they were all that. He wasn’t overly arrogant—small mercies—but Mr. Drew seemed determined to get his charm to work on Henry. 

It wouldn’t. No one’s ever had before, and his boss wasn’t about to change that. 

“Well, hey there, Henry. Come here often?” 

Oh, someone grant him patience. “Mr. Drew,” he replied and left it at that.

Mr. Drew pouted. “You know you can just call me Joey, right? A lot of the interns don’t, despite my best efforts,” he winked at Penny, who flushed, “but you’re one of my animators! No need to stand on ceremony around here.” 

They’d had some variation of this conversation four times before, ever since the day Henry was hired. It wasn’t personal; Henry simply preferred calling people he didn’t know very well by their last name. For his boss, that meant throwing the mister in front.

Regardless, Henry had no intention of calling him Joey. Maybe in a few months or something. But Henry, who was in a decent mood, gave Mr. Drew his devil’s grin. “Sure, Mr. Drew. Whatever you say.” 

His boss’s eyes widened slightly. 

Roe burst out laughing on the other side of the table. “Hell,” they said, “we’ve created a monster!” 

“He came that way!” Lana protested, half to Mr. Drew and half to Roe. “We didn’t make him a troublemaker!” 

“Troublemaker?” Mr. Drew repeated, sounding a little faint for some reason. He cleared his throat. “Our Henry?” 

“It’s always the quiet ones,” Susie said, a twinkle in her eyes. 

Mr. Drew coughed and stepped back from Henry’s chair. He couldn’t seem to decide what to do with his hands, first rubbing the back of his neck, then crossing his arms over his chest, then shoving them in his pockets only to pull them out a moment later. He made a motion that was somehow simultaneously a wave and a gesture over his shoulder. Henry, twisted around in his chair, raised an eyebrow. He’d never seen Mr. Drew so positively twitchy before.

“Well, it was nice seeing you all! Just thought I’d, uh, pop over on my way to see… Grant.” Mr. Drew chuckled, and to Henry, it sounded the slightest bit forced. “You know I’ll take any detour I can to delay a meeting with him.” 

He barely waited for any farewells before hastening from the lounge. 

Rolling his eyes, Henry sat forward again before noticing Susie eyeing him. Actually, they all were. 

“You’re so lucky,” Penny said with a wistful sigh, propping her chin in her palm. 

Confused, Henry tried to think of what she could be talking about, but nothing came to mind. “About what?” 

Roe snorted. “Half this studio’s got a crush on Joey. Heaven knows why.” 

“He’s handsome!” Susie and Penny both said loudly. 

“Very charming man,” Lana agreed. 

“And successful,” Susie added. “That’s always a bonus.” 

Henry wrinkled his nose a little. “Okay?” 

Flicking her hair over her shoulder, Lana sighed. “So you’re in the position that half the studio wishes they were in.” 

Beseeching and bewildered, Henry turned to Susie. 

She groaned and threw her head back. Drama queen. “Joey’s got a crush on you, dummy.” 

Henry stared at her for a moment before snorting. 

“I’m serious,” she said, and she actually sounded it. “Do you know how often he’d stop by anyone’s table at lunch just to say hi before you got here?” 

“Never!” Roe declared. 

“And Grant’s not even in today,” Lana added. “He’s been out sick since Tuesday. Excuses, excuses.”

“Too shy to just come out and admit he wanted to see his crush,” Roe fake cooed.  

“None of that means he…” Golly, he couldn’t even bring himself to say it. 

“Um, did you not see his reaction when you grinned at him?” Penny demanded. 

“You made him flustered,” Susie said. “I’ve never seen Joey flustered before.” 

“Bet he liked that little show of defiance of yours too,” Roe mused. 

“It was pretty hot,” Lana said. 

“Okay!” Henry nearly cried, shooting to his feet. “That’s enough for me. See all of you next year.” 

“It’s only the fifteenth?” 

“I said what I said.” And with that, Henry headed for the door. 

• • •

It was with genuine honesty that Henry could say he completely forgot about Susie and Co’s claim that Mr. Drew… liked him. He quickly became absorbed in his drawing, and by the end of the day, it had slipped his mind. 

He accidentally skipped lunch the day after, and then it was the weekend, so there was nothing to remind him then, either.  

This had one downside: it felt like being slapped in the face when Susie materialized beside his desk before he’d even sat down on Monday morning and said, “You need to decide what you’ll do about Joey before the Christmas party.” 

Nearly inhaling a mouthful of coffee from his thermos, Henry sent her a baffled look.

Susie huffed impatiently. “His crush on you? Don’t tell me you forgot already!” 

“Why would I have thought about it?” he asked, pulling the strap of his messenger bag over his head and tucking it under his desk. 

“The studio’s most sought-after bachelor chose you and you’re asking—!” Susie whirled around to face away from him for a minute, apparently unable to stand the sight of Henry. He was pretty sure he heard her do some breathing exercises. 

He sat down and began to organize his workspace while he waited. 

“Okay,” she said, a smidge quieter, as she turned back around. “I’m calm.” She made a quick strangling gesture at him before planting her hands on her hips. “You have until the party this Saturday to decide whether you reciprocate his crush.” 

Truly wishing he wasn’t having this conversation, Henry said, “I don’t have a crush on Mr. Drew.” 

She made a disgusted sound. “Golly, you’re serious, too. Fine. But will you give him a chance?”

“I—what does the party have to do with this?” 

“You’re lucky you’re cute when you’re confused,” Susie said. “It’s a Christmas party, Henry. Do you know what Christmas parties have?” 

“Eggnog? You mentioned cupcakes? Presumably a tree.” 

She tapped the toe of her shoe, unimpressed. 

Henry thunked his head down on his desk. “Please, Susie, it’s Monday. I haven’t even finished my coffee.” 

“Mistletoe!” she cried. Henry was immensely glad he’d come in early and the rest of the room was still empty of other animators. “Christmas parties have mistletoe!”

“And you actually think…” He frowned. 

“It’s the perfect opportunity for him to make a move without making it weird!” 

“He’s my boss; I don’t think mistletoe’s going to help with that.” 

Susie sighed. “Cheek kisses for anyone who doesn’t want to go for the lips, and if someone really doesn’t want to, they can just say so. Party rules. Joey doesn’t let that sort of peer pressure fly. He’ll a hundred percent back off if you aren’t receptive.” 

Henry rubbed his temples. He was going to need another coffee before he even started working at this rate. “And he really thinks the power imbalance won’t matter in this hypothetical situation?” 

“Knowing him, he’d be way more concerned with anyone else,” she admitted. 

He sent her an unamused look. 

“You’re not the least bit impressed by him,” Susie explained. She leaned against the wall beside his desk, arms crossed. “You’re not crushing, you’re not impressed, you don’t do what he says just because he’s the one saying it, and quite frankly, most of us are pretty sure wild horses couldn’t make you do anything you didn’t want to. If there’s anyone who Joey can be confident about in their willingness to say no, it’d be you.”

Well, she wasn’t wrong about that. 

“Which is why,” Susie stressed, “you should decide before then so you’ve actually thought about it.” 

“You’re awfully sure about this… infatuation.” 

“I’ve known him for a while,” she said. “This man has never shown an ounce of interest in any of us with very visible crushes on him. The way he is around you… trust me on this one.” 

Henry squinted. He hadn’t noticed Mr. Drew acting a certain way around him. “But I’m not interested in dating.” 

“Believe me, Henry, I know you’re not really interested in anything other than coffee and drawing. But this wouldn’t even take effort! A golden opportunity has literally fallen into your lap, and you still won’t take it?”

“I barely know him, though.” 

She stared at him. “Seriously? That’s what first dates are for.” 

“I’m sure it will come as a surprise to you that I haven’t dated much.” 

Sagging, she groaned dramatically. “I hate you. Just think about it, please? If you decide you’re not interested, fine, but I don’t want you to pass up on something that might make you happy just because you’re in denial or you panic or whatever.” 

“I… appreciate the concern,” he said, though it might have come out more like a question. 

“Hopeless,” Susie muttered before stalking away. 

• • •

On the off chance Susie was right about the whole… situation, Henry resolved to actually think about it. But he’d be saving that for after work, and maybe not even that day.

Of course, that afternoon didn’t quite go the way he was expecting.

Henry walked out of the animators’ main break room after punching out just in time to hear an unfamiliar intern—probably wasn’t with the animation department, then—tearfully say, “I don’t know which desk it was on, Mr. Drew. And I don’t see it anywhere now.” 

He paused in the wide doorway leading into one of the several animators’ rooms, full of desks. Butting in other people’s conversations wasn’t usually his style, but the sheer distress in some baby-faced college student’s voice, when addressing their boss, caught his attention. 

Mr. Drew looked to be on the verge of a volcanic eruption but was doing an admittedly admirable job of swallowing it back. He was rubbing his temples a bit roughly, jaw visibly clenched. The intern shifted back and forth between his feet in front him, hunched inward. There were two other men with them, each giving off a sense that they were dying inside.  

“Something wrong?” Henry asked, adjusting the strap of his messenger bag. 

Now that he was looking for it, he understood what Susie had meant by Mr. Drew acting a bit different with him than anyone else. There’d never been any favoritism, was the thing, which was the logical assumption for a boss having a… fine, crush on an employee. 

But now, Mr. Drew seemed ready to snap at him for interrupting until he appeared to register it was Henry eyeing him. He reigned in the near-explosion impressively well. “Henry. Just some missing documents is all.” 

“Mm. So, we’re not crying over spilled milk?” 

All three of the others grimaced, but Mr. Drew huffed a chuckle. “Missing documents may be putting it lightly. By any chance, have you seen a stack of records containing accumulated hours of work for every department in the studio for the month of December, with calculated holiday bonuses?” 

The intern winced. 

“Quite a thing to misplace,” Henry replied. 

“I’m not usually in this department,” the intern said desperately. “I got turned around and thought I’d made it back into administration. Someone called me away. I set them down in a paper tray on a desk. I don’t know which desk, and now it’s all gone.” 

“Grant’s stopping by early tomorrow to pick them up. They need to be ready for him by 5 a.m. if we’re going to pay wages before we go on holiday break,” Mr. Drew added, smiling humorlessly. 

One of the other men—probably administration or finance—gripped the intern’s shoulder. “Just try to retrace your steps, son. They can’t have gone far.” 

Leaving them to it, Henry headed for the main entrance. His steps slowed as his mind raced. It was still mid-afternoon, about an hour earlier than normal end-of-day hours. Schools only had a half day, apparently, so parents had been released before lunch to retrieve their children. After that, Mr. Drew had said everyone else could leave as soon as they finished their work for the day. 

One of his fellow animators, Connor—who was one of the few younger than Henry—had gotten a call earlier from his parents. They wouldn’t be able to pick his little sister up from kindergarten and insisted he do so instead. Not having planned to leave early, Connor still had a hefty bit of drawings left. Henry and a few others had offered to take what remained by the time he had to leave, with Henry accepting the most intricate, time-consuming sequence. 

So, by this point, there couldn’t be more than a dozen or so people left in the studio. No way to ask around if anyone had moved the documents, and waiting until everyone arrived tomorrow morning would be too late, if what Mr. Drew said was true. 

Henry stopped in the foyer. The intern had said he’d put them in a file tray. 

Turning on his heel, he headed for the nearest stairwell. 

• • • 

The intern and the other two men had vanished by the time Henry made it back up to the ground floor some time later and found Mr. Drew in his office, elbows on his desk as he rubbed his face. 

His door was open, so Henry didn’t bother knocking. Just stepped into the room and said, “Mr. Drew.” 

His head snapped up. He looked tired and beyond annoyed, but once again, the clear urge to snap at Henry visibly drained out of his eyes. “I thought you’d left, Henry.” 

Given it was fairly obvious he hadn’t, Henry didn’t bother replying to that. He instead walked up to the front of Mr. Drew’s desk and brandished a strip of paper, barely two inches wide, at him. “I don’t suppose this looks like one of the missing documents?” 

Mr. Drew half raised his hand as he leaned forward, squinting. He went from doubtful to shocked in a blink. He snatched the slip and examined it closely. “Yes, yes, where did you get this? Why has it been cut?” 

“I was worried you’d say that.” He turned and headed for the door, hearing Mr. Drew scramble to follow him. Henry kept a quick pace all the way to his destination, for once not feeling the need to slow down to accommodate someone else. Mr. Drew, who was quite a bit taller than him, easily matched his speed. 

They ended up in the art department, where Henry lifted a hefty box full of identically cut strips of paper and dropped it on one of the long wooden tables. “I got it from here.” 

Mr. Drew stared at the box, easily full of hundreds, if not thousands, of cut pieces of paper and wasn’t quite able to hide the new despair. 

“Out of the frying pan,” Henry said, commiserating. 

With a sigh, Mr. Drew gamely finished, “And into the fire. I appreciate it nonetheless, Henry. One step forward, no matter how small, is still one step forward. You enjoy the rest of your day now, y’hear?” 

Henry hummed and tugged his messenger bag off, leaning it against the table leg. He stepped away to find a couple tape dispensers on one of the numerous shelves, set them on the table beside the box, and pulled out a chair to take a seat. 

When Mr. Drew only stared at him in shock, Henry raised an eyebrow. “What?” 

Kindly, his boss said, “I—you don’t need to stick around and help with this, Henry. You’ve already done more than enough. This is my fire to sit in, to keep with the metaphor.” 

Unimpressed, Henry countered, “Fires can be put out with fire extinguishers. And many hands make light work. I’m not sure four counts as many, but I’m also not sure you really have room to refuse to double what you have.” He reached into the box and pulled out a handful of paper. “Clock’s ticking, Mr. Drew.” 

Mr. Drew might as well as had his knees kicked out from under him, he sat down so fast. 

To Henry’s mild surprise, they worked in near silence for a while, only murmuring names and words—and fragments of them—from the papers back and forth. It didn’t take them long to find a method of two-part sorting to keep things efficient. It was an awful sort of puzzle, and while Henry didn’t mind the challenge in and of itself, the importance of finishing by a certain time took away any real enjoyment he might have had. 

This was the first time he’d been alone with Mr. Drew since he was hired, and it was—odd. He was an entirely different man, quiet and logical and actually showing the brains Henry knew he had to have. The performance was entirely absent; there was no false charm to him. 

Henry couldn’t help but wonder which version was more real. That perhaps he was only so much calmer and less of a showman because of the seriousness of their task. 

His thoughts drifted to Susie, and while he couldn’t quite so confidently deny the possible presence of a… crush now, he still wasn’t sure what he thought of it. Or, as Susie would emphasize, how he would react to any overtures. It would have been easier to decide an hour or two ago, when Henry was positive that he and Mr. Drew just wouldn’t have clicked. 

But this side of him? Henry was less positive about that. 

They had a few full papers put together by the time Mr. Drew asked, “How on earth did you even think to look here for them?” 

Henry continued with his sorting. “Mm. I’ll only tell you if you promise you won’t be less impressed once you’ve seen behind the curtain.” 

Mr. Drew laughed. It was slightly different from his—public, maybe?—laughter. Less draw-all-the-attention-to-me, more… delighted. “Cross my heart, Henry,” he said, smiling as he stopped working to focus on him. 

“All right, so, that intern said he put them in a file tray. And we’re the animation department, you can’t take two steps without tripping over a file tray. But he said it was just gone. Which meant someone had to have taken it without thinking twice that those documents might have been important.” 

“That has been bothering me,” Mr. Drew admitted. “I don’t want to think that any of my employees would purposefully cause such a big problem, but…” 

“But it seemed like there couldn’t be another explanation,” Henry agreed, finally pausing in his work as well. “Thing is, it was the animation department. He set them in a tray in the animation department.” 

“That’s important somehow?” 

“Very. We go through more scrap paper than any other department in the studio. Sketches, thumbnails, references, trying two dozen slightly different versions of the same pose before settling on one, warm-up exercises, having to start over, notes, corrections, practice—we use a lot of paper. A few weeks ago, the folks down here,” he gestured around at the art department’s main room, stocked with all the art supplies one could need, “came to us and said they wanted our scraps. For papier-mâché.” 

Mr. Drew turned to the box with new understanding. 

Henry continued, “They said they’d make it super easy for us so it wouldn’t be a bother. They set out special trays with labels on ’em, and every day, someone would come and grab them to bring the paper down here to slice up.” He nodded over at the far wall, where some indistinct shapes rested, covered in drying strips of paper. “Thanks to that intern missing the label and some truly rotten timing, it was an accident.”

With bright eyes, Mr. Drew smiled. “And you thought I’d be less impressed,” he said softly. “You figured that out in the span of time it took you to, what, walk to the front door after overhearing us?” 

Henry shrugged. He resumed picking through strips, and Mr. Drew started back up with sorting them based on what names he could read. “That’s right. Came on down, poked around until I was pretty sure I had one of the missing pages, then went back on up to show you.” 

“You’re a wonder, Henry,” Mr. Drew said, far too fondly. “And now you’re wasting the rest of your day helping me with the world’s worst puzzle.” 

“Well. I would like to be paid on time.” Henry was pleased when Mr. Drew laughed, rather than think he was serious. Which was strange; he didn’t usually care if someone picked up that he was joking or not. “Honestly, it’s fine, Mr. Drew. I’ve played a worse version of this game.” 

“Now how could this be worse?” 

“One of my friends in college had his final paper all typed out the day before it was due. He got it and the garbage first draft mixed up and shredded the wrong pile.” 

“No,” Mr. Drew said, horrified. 

“Yeah,” Henry said with a pained chuckle. “A whole bunch of us stayed up all night helping him piece it back together while he frantically retyped them as we finished them. It wouldn’t have been so bad, probably, except it was twenty-four pages and the shreddings had gotten all mixed up in a bag.” 

“So this is child’s play, is what I’m hearing.” 

“I’ll say you and I are moving a lot faster than we all did back then, and leave it at that.” 

• • •

Henry hadn’t looked at a clock when they’d started their slow-going task, but it had probably been around five, maybe a little earlier. The first time they took a break to stretch and grab some coffee, it was just after 8 p.m. They scavenged food from the various lounge cupboards and refrigerators, trading back and forth until they were relatively happy with their hodgepodge dinners. 

They kept the coffee well away from the table, the entirety of which was completely covered in paper by that point. Henry boosted himself up onto a different one, swinging his legs. Mr. Drew came to lean against it beside him. 

“There were a lot of documents in that stack,” he murmured, eyeing their progress. 

“We’ll get it done,” Henry said without an ounce of doubt, pulling open a bag of pretzels. 

He munched in silence for a few minutes before realizing Mr. Drew was staring at him. 

Henry went ahead and stared right back, waiting for him to notice. It only took him nine seconds by Henry’s count. Coughing, Mr. Drew looked down into his coffee. 

Kicking lightly at him, Henry asked, “Something on my face?” 

“No, no, sorry. Got a little lost in thought is all.” Mr. Drew sighed. 

Digging into his pocket, Henry flipped a penny at him. Mildly confused, Mr. Drew stared at it for a moment, but the moment it clicked, he threw his head back and laughed. 

“All right, all right, I can tell when I’m outwitted.” With a wry smile, he tilted his head at Henry. “Just—you’re a marvel, Henry. You really are.” 

Surprise lit up inside him. A funny noise escaped before he could stop it. “Geez, Mr. Drew. A wonder, a marvel. Careful, else I’ll start blushing.” 

And for a moment, he plainly saw what Susie did—the infatuation, the crush. Only, it turned out even Susie hadn’t really gotten it. 

The look in Mr. Drew’s eyes was far too soft for a crush. 

“Why won’t you call me Joey?” he asked quietly. In the silence of the studio, his voice was the only sound. 

Susie would be shrieking excitedly if she were to see them, Henry spared a thought to consider. Everything about the past few hours would have ticked every one of her boxes for the perfect romance, he was sure. Going on Mr. Drew’s expression, Henry thought his boss might agree with her. 

“I don’t know you well enough,” Henry admitted just as quietly. 

“Do you want to know me better?” 

Henry wasn’t like Susie, though. It wasn’t about appearances or a quiet studio to themselves or Henry giving up his afternoon off to help or Mr. Drew calling him a wonder and a marvel. He didn’t go on a first date to see if he and someone else were compatible. 

He went on a first date because he and someone else were compatible. 

This morning, he would have said he and Mr. Drew weren’t. He really wasn’t sure now. 

“It depends,” Henry said honestly. 

Mr. Drew’s eyebrows shot up. 

“You’re a lot different right now from… the rest of the time.” 

“Ah. Well, I’m afraid this is me without the mask. I don’t dislike my more exciting side, playing the showman, but that’s all it is—a role I play. I know it’s the interesting part, so I don’t blame you—”

Realizing Mr. Drew had it backwards, Henry interrupted, “I prefer you without the mask.”

He stumbled to a stop. “You—you do?” 

“You’re a good actor,” Henry allowed, “and I refuse to believe that all of your dramatics are played up, but I could never get past that pretense. I suppose most people are too busy letting themselves be charmed to see how fake it is.” 

Mr. Drew spluttered a little. Henry grinned to himself. 

His boss finally gathered himself enough to say, “Most people who realize I’m not ‘on’ all the time are disappointed by that.” 

Henry stared blankly at him. “Mr. Drew, what on earth gave you the impression that I have any fondness for things that are big and loud and showy all the time? Small doses only, please, for heaven’s sake.”

“You’re friends with Susie?”

“Friends? That’s a hostage situation.” Henry set aside his empty mug and hopped off the table, stretching his arms over his head and arching back until his spine popped in a few places. When he glanced over his shoulder, Mr. Drew’s eyes were definitely lingering a little low. 

Henry ignored that and walked over to the table. “Ready to keep going? No rest for the wicked.” Okay, he didn’t entirely ignore it, but that was a joke for him alone. 

Mr. Drew hastened to join him. “You didn’t say if you’d call me Joey.” 

“Hm. How about… you have until we finish to convince me I know you well enough to use your first name.” 

Standing on opposite sides of the table from each other, Henry watched Mr. Drew’s eyes light up at the challenge. 

• • •

Henry waited, exhausted, as Mr. Drew counted, then recounted the number of taped-together documents in the pile. That he knew how many there should be was nothing short of a miracle in itself and was the only reason they wouldn’t have to check every strip of paper in the box. 

His eyes were dry, he was buzzing faintly from that last cup of coffee, his head was pounding, his back ached from hunching over a table that wasn’t built to keep an animator from ruining their spine, and quite frankly, Henry would be playing hooky tomorrow—today, technically—whether or not Mr. Drew approved. 

It’d taken them probably ten hours or so, with a few breaks here and there, but they’d done it with time to spare. Hours of sorting through irrelevant scraps, finding the ones they needed, then trying to put them together correctly. And all the documents looked somewhat the same, made different only by the small words on them. World’s worst puzzle indeed; the shredded final paper incident was only worse by a smidgen. 

“That’s all of them,” Mr. Drew said with overwhelming relief. “Good golly, we actually did it.” 

“Told ya so.” 

“I won’t doubt you again, pal. That was hellish.” 

Henry nodded. “Coulda been worse,” he mumbled. 

“They could’ve been smaller strips? I don’t want to think about it.” 

“Nah. Coulda been worse company. I’d have been ready to strangle you hours ago if you were almost anyone else. But my people meter’s fine.” 

As any introvert could attest, telling someone that their extended presence made said introvert feel recharged instead of depleted was a rare, wonderful compliment. 

“People meter,” Mr. Drew repeated, rubbing his eyes. “I should remember that, that’s a good way of putting it. I neglect mine, I must admit.” 

“Look at how surprised I am by that,” Henry said, deadpan. 

Mr. Drew snorted, which devolved into exhaustion-induced giggles. “What time is it?” 

“It’s almost three.” 

With a muttered curse, Mr. Drew stumbled to his feet. Henry stood only slightly more gracefully. They wove through the art department toward the exit. 

“Let’s get outta here, huh? Take tomorrow off, Henry, you more than deserve it.” 

“I’m going to sleep as late as I can without an alarm, and when I wake up, I’m going to go back to sleep. If there’s still enough time to get things done here after I wake up the second time, I’m coming in.” 

“Fine, but I won’t be happy if I see you before lunch.” 

“You’re going to be here before lunch?” 

They both paused in the hallway, staring at the stairwell with no small amount of disgruntlement. “To the elevator,” Mr. Drew declared. Henry didn’t argue. 

“But you do make a good point,” Mr. Drew admitted. He yawned twice as he said, “I’m not going to be of much use to anyone in this state. But I can’t just not come in.” 

He shook himself awake a little better as they rose upward. “You should ask the boss, I hear he’s a decent guy.” 

Mr. Drew laughed. They stepped out onto the main floor, and he glanced at Henry. “You have everything?” 

“Sure do,” Henry said, patting his messenger bag. He’d double-checked he was actually wearing it three times between now and putting it on. 

“I’ll unlock the door for you. Then I’ll get these to Grant’s desk,” he lifted the packet, “and leave a note saying I’ll be in late tomorrow morning.” 

Henry snickered. “That almost sounds responsible of you.” 

Over the hours of work, they’d more or less kept each other awake with stories. Mr. Drew, as a kid, probably wouldn’t have been anyone’s idea of a responsible future boss. 

“Oh, hush,” he groused. “Though that reminds me. Am I still Mr. Drew? Or have I earned Joey status?” 

Pretending to contemplate his answer as they entered the foyer, Henry sighed exaggeratedly. “I suppose I have to call you Joey now that I know the top three most common reasons you got detention in high school.” 

“And I know you absolutely do not deserve that spotless record, Henry,” Mr. Drew—Joey—teased, but Henry could see how pleased he was. 

They stopped at the front door, and Joey unlocked it, stepping aside to let Henry pass.

“You’ve really given me a Christmas miracle, Henry. Or maybe you are the Christmas miracle! Ha! I don’t know how to thank you for tonight,” he said earnestly. Then he laughed a little deliriously as Henry pushed open the door. Gripping the papers like he refused to let them out of his sight ever again, Joey added without thought, “Hell, I’m so grateful, I could kiss you!” 

The words visibly caught up to him, and he froze so comically, with such plain panic, that Henry nearly laughed. 

Instead, he paused after a single step outside, made a decision, and boldly said, “I hear there’s gonna be mistletoe at the Christmas party.” And then, since it had reportedly worked so well last time, Henry smiled his devil’s grin. 

Joey dropped the stack of documents, mouth hanging open, eyes nearly glowing with something Henry wasn’t willing to name. Not yet. 

Tilting his head in farewell, Henry walked out into the night, leaving his boss speechless behind him. 

• • •

“What on earth did you do to Joey?” Susie demanded on Wednesday. By the time Henry had woken up the second time on Tuesday, going in to work would have been pointless. So she’d probably been stewing all day yesterday, Henry thought with no small amount of humor.

“Why do you think I did anything?” 

“Do I need to remind you that I’ve never seen anyone other than you fluster him? He came in late yesterday, you weren’t here at all, he’s got a thousand-yard-stare half the time anyone tries to talk to him, and not ten minutes ago, he dropped everything he was holding when he saw you in the hallway.” 

Okay, so Henry was rather tellingly pleased about that. In the thirty hours or so since blatantly flirting back, he hadn’t regretted it, so… 

Figuring Joey hadn’t mentioned The Incident for a reason, Henry didn’t go into detail. “I didn’t do anything, really. Just stayed late on Monday to help him with something, and we got to talking.” 

Her face fell in disappointment. “And you still don’t think that matters? Are you still in denial about his crush?” 

It definitely wasn’t as simple as a crush, but he wasn’t going to tell her that. 

Rather, he smirked. “Now, I didn’t say that. It becomes a little harder to deny at least some level of attraction when you catch them staring.” He let his eyes drift down enough to serve as a hint as to where Joey had been staring before he left her leaning against the counter beside the coffee machine. 

Henry hadn’t made it more than a few steps down the hallway when Susie fairly shrieked behind him.

• • •

The Christmas party was that Saturday—after they’d all received their pay with holiday bonuses; Henry’s was far larger than it should’ve been—on Christmas Eve. 

He slightly regretted giving Susie enough to fuel the rumor mill. It seemed like everyone knew now that Joey had his eyes on Henry—heh, she’d at least kept that detail to the metaphorical sense—but it would be worth it. 

It was far preferable that they have some idea of the truth before Henry wandered too close to some mistletoe. He couldn’t imagine the uproar if it came as a surprise here and now. 

At least this way, most everyone had had time to wrap their heads around a potential. The reality would probably haunt Henry for years, but oh well. Sacrifices had to be made. 

The party wasn’t too awful, though it equally wasn’t his speed. He danced with a few coworkers who he was willing to tentatively call friends. The cupcakes really were as good as Susie had promised. Henry wasn’t one for alcohol, but it was certainly amusing to watch those who did partake get a little deep into their cups. There were enough enthusiastic drunks to make for dessert and a show on the makeshift dance floor. 

Technically, the party would go on for hours yet, but Henry was ready to call it a day. His social battery was very drained. 

“Merry Christmas,” he told Susie, giving her a hug. He repeated it too many times to count as he said goodbye to the rest of their little group. They wouldn’t be seeing each other until the new year, the studio closed through the end of December. 

More than one person had been sneaking glances at him all evening, but as he tugged on his coat and headed for the room’s main exit, the one liberally decorated with mistletoe, it got worse. The sensation of being watched followed him through the crowd. 

Joey materialized at his side as he got closer. “I wanted to thank you again for your help on Monday. When Grant found out why the documents were all like that, I thought he’d piss himself laughing. Considering the alternative was probably a heart attack, I let it slide. And it all worked out, obviously.” 

“I dunno,” Henry said. “I think someone messed up the math on my paycheck.” 

“You got what you deserved,” Joey insisted. “Or, no, you deserve even more than that.” 

Warmth pooled in Henry’s chest, and he smiled down at the floor. Two more steps, their strides evenly matched, and the second they were under the mistletoe, numerous voices started hooting and hollering from around the room. Susie’s was, without a shred of doubt, one of them. 

Rolling his eyes, Henry turned to face Joey, who was wavering in place. 

“You sure?” Joey asked quietly. 

“Don’t leave me in suspense, Mr. Drew.” 

Bouncing between hesitant and eager, like he both wanted to give Henry time to change his mind but also wanted to go through with it before Henry could, Joey ducked down, paused, and pressed a quick kiss to Henry’s lips, his hands resting gently on Henry’s sides. He straightened but didn’t let go.

In the midst of half their coworkers audibly losing their minds in drunken glee, Henry glared lightly. “C’mon, Joey. Like you mean it.” 

And that was how Henry found himself being dipped backward, Joey gladly swallowing his surprised laughter down as he went about trying to devour Henry. Not that Henry had any complaints. 

• • •

Years later, Susie would receive a generous gift basket with a photo attached instead of a note. It featured Henry with a furious flush on the parts of his cheeks not covered by his right hand, his left intertwined with and held aloft by Joey’s. The former was glaring off to the side—rendered entirely ineffective with the happy tears glistening behind his glasses—the latter mid-laugh as he showed off the ring on Henry’s finger. 

He said yes!! was enthusiastically scrawled across the back in Joey’s stick-straight handwriting. And just beneath it, in Henry’s, You got me into this mess, so you better see me through to the end. How does best woman sound?