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1pm on Thursdays held a permanently carved place in Humphrey's diary.
Thursday was always his day off. He had a lie in, woke up and put a load of laundry on, fed the cat (not his cat, technically, but the stray that lived down the road), had breakfast, showered and dressed. Then he went and walked Dante for Lady B over the road, picking up a newspaper for both her and the Captain, who lived in the other half of her semi-detached – Cap usually took Dante with him on his morning run, but thursdays were the one day he worked early, so Humphrey picked up that duty (though not the pace; Humphrey wasn't running anywhere, thank you.)
Once Dante and the newspapers were dropped off in their rightful places, Humphrey went back across the street to his own home and did whatever the heck he wanted; the joys of a day off. Sometimes he caught up on TV, sometimes he painted for a bit, sometimes he caught up on work. Today he had some quiz show on in the background while he worked on a landscape, all the while sipping whatever he’d treated himself to from the cafe he always stopped off at on the walk.
His friend Mary always wrote terrible jokes on his cup, in part because they loved terrible jokes, but also to practice her writing. Today’s read; ‘what you call a cann opner that don’t werk?’ on the side.
He worked happily for an hour or two, until his phone alarm went off for 12:40pm. Then he drained the last of his coffee and checked the bottom; ‘a CANT opner!!!
He chuckled, taking a picture and sending it to Mary.
Humperz: CAN’T opener!!! Throw that out of your kitchen drawer! X
He tidied everything up, then he folded himself into his stupidly tiny car and drove to Button House for a continually standing reservation in their tearoom.
Alison was waiting for him, standing at the counter in the foyer.
“Alright, Als, how's the hotel coming?”
For once, she had a smile for him.
“It's doing well, actually. The contractors are coming in to look at the dippy wing.”
Button House's two ‘wings’ had been a great source of confusion to the young couple when they’d first moved in. The original floorplans they’d found were unclear, since one wing pointed one way and the other completely different. Really, it should have been West and North wing, or something, not East and West. Eventually they’d settled on keeping the East wing, which was where the tearoom and few guest rooms were located, and the “dippy wing”, so named because it was broken down and crumbling, and the floor and ceiling dipped in odd places. He’d been up for a look, once, and been sent sprawling within seconds, his already terrible balance turning into an actual weapon. He’d retreated before he lost his head.
“Brilliant news,” Humphrey said, only too happy to hear it was being looked at. Being broke when they moved in, progress on their dream hotel had been slow.
Alison beamed. “Well, it’s this place that’s helped, really. And it’ll be even better when Mary makes the move.”
While she currently owned the cafe Humphrey frequented, she had agreed to sell up and come and manage the tearoom. While the cafe had been a labour of love, selling it would give her the money for a better home, and, more importantly, an engagement ring for her partner Annie.
Humphrey groaned. "Don’t, I'm barely keeping my pants fitting as it is. I love her, and she’ll be great here for you, but when she comes here I'll be eating twice as much.”
“And spending twice as much,” Alison added with a cheeky look.
Humphrey stuck his tongue out at her and she walked around to lead him to his table, the same one every time, right by the big window.
“Lucky lucky,” Alison said as she accompanied him. “You beat Pat for once.”
Humphrey was surprised. “Makes a change. I never beat Pat 'perpetually early’ Butcher.”
“Well congrats. Maybe you’ll beat Cap to movie night next.”
Humphrey snorted. “Don’t push it. The only way I'll beat that man to movie night is if I camp out there the night before.”
“Probably not even then.”
Alison left him at his table, promising to bring over their usual; a nice hot choccy for him, and a strong pot of tea for Pat. They never strayed from their drinks order.
When Alison arrived with the drinks, Pat still wasn't there.
Nevertheless, she set Pat'a things on his side of the table and passed Humphrey his hot chocolate.
“‘Cor, that's nice.” He said appreciatively as he took a sip. She put a mystery shot in every time and he always had fun guessing what it was. “Raspberry?”
“We finally got a way to put the syrup in it so it doesn't go all funny,” she confirmed, pleased as punch. “I put some cinnamon on top to really blow your mind.”
Blown my tits clean off, Humphrey thought. “I’ll deffo have that again next time, I’m telling you.”
“Well when Pat comes back from the loo you should make him try it.”
“Pat’s here?”
Alison looked at him strangely. “You haven't seen him?”
“You have?”
She shook her head. “No. I mean, I figured he’d be here by now. You guys just slip in sometimes, I thought he’d just gone to the loo and that's why he wasn't here now.”
“No. He hasn't got here yet, I haven't seen him.”
A frown creased Alison's eyebrows. “Huh. Traffic?”
“Maybe.” Humphrey was getting a bit antsy. Pat was never late. He and Cap always said that was the best benefit of their autism; they were never late, a combination of anxiety, enthusiasm and internal scheduling ensuring they were always early.
He checked his phone, but there was nothing there - other than a picture from Mary of her attempt at latte art. (A spoon? A can’t opener? A cat? Car?)
Alison went to take care of the other customers, agreeing to wait until Pat had gotten there to get any food.
But Pat didn't arrive.
Humphrey waited almost fifteen minutes, Alison coming over to check on him and give him another hot chocolate. It wasn't a long time in the grand scheme of things, but for Pat, fifteen minutes late was worrying. If it was Cap, he’d have been calling search and bloody rescue.
He could see Alison poking her head around the dooray, scanning again to see if Pat had slipped by without her seeing, when his phone buzzed in his pocket.
Call Incoming: Pattycakes <3
“Thank god,” Humphrey practically gasped down the phone, shoving it to his ear. “I thought– oh shit.” He turned the phone the right way up. “Are you alright? Are you dead? Dying?"
A huff came down the line. “No, Humph, I'm alright. Im fucking stuck in traffic.”
Humphrey felt his whole body relax, then stifled a laugh. It still felt wrong to hear Pat swear so, even after decades of knowing him. But being late got him wound up more than anything – combined with road rage, Humphrey wouldn't be surprised to hear some choice words.
“Im stuck on fucking Peddleway roundabout. There's been an accident on the road, a lorry's gone down the wrong path and tipped, the wazzock - every exit is jammed, I'm completely blocked in.” Pat sounded raspy, and Humphrey stopped laughing.
“Hey, hey,” he said, as soothingly as he could manage. “You’re alright, mate. It's only Thursday tea. Best part of the week, sure, but it's not the end of the world to miss one. We’ve still got movie night – or I can pick you something up from here and take it home, then you can come to mine for a bit when you’re unstuck?”
“What? No no! Don't go home!” Pat said desperately. “I'm– shit–"
The phone line crackled, like Pat was moving it about.
“Pat?”
“Don’t go home,” Pat repeated, the line clear again.
“It's no bother, I don't mind it. Hell, been a while since I've been stood up, "Humphrey teased, “even I probably need an ego check once in a while. Really, you’re doing me a service.”
“No, Humphrey, I need you to go to Daley’s school!”
Humphrey went quiet immediately, seized by panic. “What? The school? Is Daley alright?”
“That's what I've been trying to say,” Pat said, “I was on my way to you, but Daley's school rang. He's fine, but he’s been in a fight and they need me to come and sort it but I can't get there mate, and Carol's in Blackpool with Morris – I'm so sorry, but I need you to go down.”
“Me?” Humphrey asked, sure Pat had lost the plot. “I get Carol's not about but, me? I'm not a parent.”
“Don’t matter,” Pat insisted. “I just need someone there with him. They won't tell me what happened until I'm there in person. I just need you to make sure he’s alright, keep him company.” There was the sound of a gear stick being shunted in a way it likely shouldn't be, and the car protesting. “Wanker!” Pat shouted. “I'm just as stuck here as you are!”
Humphrey cleared his throat.
“Sorry, sorry. It’s just, he knows you. I want someone there who knows him until I can get there, and you’re–”
“Pat,'' Humphrey interrupted, “Pat. I'm already getting my keys. I’ll grab him.”
Alison had sent him off with some cakes for Pat, since she knew he'd be freaking out when Humphrey had explained what was going on, one arm stuck halfway into his coat with his scarf half-way to decapitating him as he tried to pay and get stuff on at the same time. She'd had to come round and help him out before sending him on his way, takeaway tub of cakes in-hand.
With knowledge of the crash, Humphrey managed to get to the school in record time, avoiding every possible place he could think of that might have a queue because of Peddleway. Luckily, he had been coming from Button House, at the very edge of the village, and other than taking a few extra turns (and a few wrong ones) he got there without much issue.
Humphrey had never been more thankful to have been to Daley's school before now. Having known Pat for so long, he'd been treated to almost every play, special assembly, and sports day Daley had ever attended, so it was easy enough to find his way to the main entrance.
Higham Primary was small but well-tended to, and worked very well for Humphrey – who tended to get lost incredibly easily – because its headmasters office was directly behind the school reception in the entryway, meaning all he had to do was walk through the front door to find Daley sitting on a little chair, his arms crossed and his face like thunder.
But the storm cleared the moment Daley looked up and caught sight of Humphrey opening the door.
“Humphrey!” Dayley shouted, running and throwing his arms around Humphrey's legs.
“Blimey Daley, what happened!” Humphrey exclaimed, immediately kneeling down to get a better look at the lad.
He had a spectacularly split lip which was starting to swell, and a red spot on his cheek that looked like it was going to turn into a very nice bruise.
"I was in a fight," Daley said.
"Yeah I can see that," Humphrey said. "What the hell happened Daley?"
Daley opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted.
"Excuse me, who are you?"
The thunder returned, Daley's face darkening again as a lady stepped out of the receptionist's office.
Taken aback by the sudden change in mood, Humphrey stumbled a bit. "Um– I'm, Hi–" I'm high? Jesus Christ. "Hello," he backpedaled, "I'm Humphrey; Humphrey Bone. I'm here for Daley."
The woman gave him a very suspicious look, one that Humphrey fought not to wobble under. "I'm Mrs Whittacker," she said, "And I do not believe you are one of Daley's parents."
"Ah, no," Humphrey winced, "no I'm not. His dad sent me."
"His father," Mrs Whittacker said flatly.
"Yeah, he sent me to–" Humphrey started but the teacher interrupted him.
“I'm sorry," she said, sounding not a bit sorry, "but unless you are one of Daley's parents then we cannot allow you to take him, nor can we speak to you about Daley's current situation."
"None of his parents are available," Humphrey insisted, "His mums in Blackpool with his step-dad, and Pat – his dad, I mean – is stuck in traffic. A lorry's tipped on Peddleway, the whole place is in gridlock. He sent me to make sure Daley was okay."
"Daley is perfectly sound," the teacher told him, though it seemed reluctant. "But unless you are a parent or partner, we–"
“He's my dad's boyfriend!” Daley shouted suddenly and both Humphrey and Mrs Whittacker fell silent.
Humphrey stared at Daley. Daley stared back.
“It's okay,” Daley said, patting Humphrey on the thigh. “Dad was going to tell them this week anyway.”
“He– he was?” Humphrey croaked.
Mrs Whittacker looked skeptical. “He was?”
Dayley gave Humphrey a frantic look.
Oh.
OH.
“Y– yeah,” Humphrey said, clearing his throat. “I guess he was. Sorry, thought that was next week.”
Mrs Whittacker's eye twitched.
“Look, I get you can't just be letting randos in," Humphrey said, trying to placate things - and also to give himself a moment to recover from apparently shacking up with his best mate. "Trust me, I want Daley safe as much as you do, but there's no one else right now. There's no telling when Pat'll unstick himself from the traffic."
“Is dad okay?” Daley asked, looking up at Humphrey with worry.
Humphrey tousled his hair, smiling in a way he hoped was reassuring. "Pat's fine, mate, I promise. Doing a lot of shouting at cars, though. He’s worried sick about you. Neither of us can believe you got in a fight.”
Some kids, being reminded of what they'd done, especially when faced with a disapproving tone, might have looked away or appeared guilty; shrunk down. Daley stood straighter, meeting Humphrey's eye.
“I was being a good samaritan,” he announced.
Humphrey raised an eyebrow. Christ, like there had ever been any doubt that this was Pat's kid.
Mrs Whittacker sighed. “Daley. Thinking you are helping someone is no reason to start a fight–"
“But I was helping someone,” Daley argued, “and I didnt start it. Jez and Samara did.”
“Hitting girls isn't what nice young men do.” Mrs Whittacker said, crossing her arms while Humphrey blinked, looking at Daley in surprise. He'd hit a lass?
“So hittin’ Jez is okay then?” Daley questioned, whip-smart. “Sam started it by pushing Jenny. Then she hit her. When I tried to stop her doing it again, she hit me, so I hit her back. If she doesn't want to get hit she shouldn't hit in the first place.”
Humphrey winced. Girls vs boys… god what the fuck did he say to that. He didn't feel qualified to be in on this conversation. What would Pat say?
…Probably exactly what Daley had just said. Obviously there was a difference if some six foot hulk decided to hit a young lass, but two seven year olds taking a swing? Humphrey wanted to put his head in his hands. He didn't want to be thinking about the ethics and stats of kids brawling.
“What started the fight?” He asked instead.
“Sam and Jez were trying to make Jenny play–” Daley started but was cut off by his teacher.
"Jenny is one of our more... difficult students,” she explained, and Humphrey's eyes instantly narrowed at the way she said ‘difficult’. “She rarely plays with the other children and we've been trying to get her to socialise more. Samara and Jeremy were trying to encourage her to play with them-”
“But Jenny didn't want to play!” Daley said.
Mrs Whittacker sighed. “Yes, daley, but playing is good for children. Jenny should be spending more time outside with you and the others instead of sitting inside reading all the time.”
“But she doesn't sit inside reading all the time," Daley argued. "She comes outside sometimes, and she sits and watches us play. Or she reads outside.” Dayley glared at Mrs Whittacker, puffing out his chest righteously. “My dad says that people don't have to play with you if they don't want to. if Jenny doesn't want to play she doesn't have to, she can sit and read or watch us play if that's what she likes, and you have to be nice if thats what they want an respect their bound-ries.”
Humphrey beamed, punching Daley lightly on the shoulder. “Right on, Daley!”
Mrs Whittacker glared at him. “Jenny needs to be socialising properly rather than staying quiet on the sidelines. It isn't good for her to stay so… quiet.”
“If she doesn't want to talk she doesn't have to!” Daley shouted, stepping towards Mrs Whittacker. “It isn't bad to be quiet. She weren’t doing anything wrong.”
“Alright, alright kiddo cool your jets,” Humphrey said, settling a hand on daleys shoulder. Daley looked up at him but stopped squaring up as much.
Mrs Whittacker looked relieved. “Thank you,” she said. “Now, if we can get back to the root of the matter, Daley, you should not have started a fight like that.”
“But I didn't!" Daley insisted, stamping his foot. "They did, they didn't have to push her and hit her just because they wanted her to play, and she didn't.”
“Daley,” Humphrey said, before the seven year old got into an actual fight with his teacher, “who threw the first punch?"
“Samara." Daley said firmly.
"Okay, tell me what happened, from the start." He thought he had a pretty good picture of what had happened, but he wanted the full picture straight from the horses mouth, as it were, and in this instance the horse was pretty damn desperate to tell his side of the story.
"Mr Bone, I think–"
"No, sorry ma'am, but I wanna hear what Daley's got to say. The full story."
Opportunity given, Daley wasted no time in snapping it up, launching into his recount of what had happened. "They wanted Jenny to play with her, and Jenny said she didn't want to. She wanted to watch. Samara said that was weird and that she should play. Sam said she should come and play with them, and Jenny…" He frowned for a moment. "When Jenny gets upset, she makes this– this noise. Like the noise uncle Cap makes when he gets confused and scared about something."
Oh fuck, Humphrey though. The noise. That quiet, frantic whine that sometimes pushed itself out of Caps throat when he got taken too off guard. Humphrey had heard that noise more than once, and he hated it.
Daley looked upset just talking about it now.
"Jenny started makin’ that noise, which means she was upset. Jenny told her to stop being silly and–I don't know. I think she went to try and pull her, she had her arm out. Jenny pushed her away and Sam got mad and hit her. Jenny was crying, so I went between Jenny and Sam and told Sam to stop. She called Jenny weird, and a crybaby, and I said that was mean. She pushed me out of the way and went back to Jenny, so I pushed Sam out of the way and she fell down, and she got angry and got up and hit me. So I hit her back. And then Jez got angry and started shouting because I'd hit a girl, even though Sam had hit Jenny and they’re both girls, so Sam hit a girl too, and he started trying to hit me.” Daley took a deep breath. “There was a lot more hitting after that.”
“Yeah, I guessed,” Humphrey said dryly. “You look like you’ve been in one of Cap's wars.”
“I hit more than I got hit,” Daley said proudly, and Humphrey grimaced when Mrs Whittacker blustered. “And Jenny didn't get hit at all. Well, not after that first one.”
“Well there you go, then," Humphrey said. “He was defending himself. And another student.”
“That's not what Samara and Jeremy have told us.” Mrs Whittacker said brusquely, folding her arms.
“Yeah well it won't be, will it?” Humphrey said, frankly a bit cheesed off. “They know they’ll get in more trouble for being the ones that started it, won't they?” He patted Daley on the shoulder. “See, the thing about Daley is, his dad managed to install one hell of a moral compass in him. Daley doesn't really lie, unless it's about biscuits.”
Or boyfriends, apparently. Jesus.
“There were no biscuits.” Daley supplied, which the teacher did not take kindly to. “And I didn't lie. That's exactly what happened. Sam and Jez should be in trouble. I get that hitting is bad but me and Jenny got hit first. I'm not gonna let her get hit again.”
"That's still not an excuse," Mrs Whittacker insisted, but Humphrey had heard enough at this point.
“Sorry," he said, "but I'd say that actually, it is kind of an excuse."
Mrs Whittacker whirled on him, but Humphrey didn't give her chance to argue with him.
"It sounds to me like these two kids were bullying Jenny. Samara seems to have been at least; pushing and calling her names and hitting her. If Jenny's a little different," he emphasized, unwilling to label or diagnose no matter what he suspected, "then these kids should be taught to respect that, instead of bully or insult. I know I'm not his dad, but I'm not going to let Daley get told off for defending another student, and I don't think Pat would either. Yeah, fighting is wrong and all, violence is never great, but if they started on a kid who didn't want to play then I'm inclined to say Daley did a good job of stepping in to help.”
He held his head high as he finished, more than a little bit proud of himself, and Daley, even if he was shitting bricks about talking like that to the teacher of someone elses kid. He didn't want to cause trouble for Daley or Pat.
"I get that you have to talk to him about fighting, I do, but I think the main conversation should be had with Jenny and Sam and their parents, rather than telling Daley off for trying to defend someone."
Mrs Whittacker was unbowed. “Daley has to learn that his actions have consequences.”
“Daley’s action was the consequence of being punched by Sam,” Humphrey shot back. “Speaking of, where are the other kids? And their parents, for that matter. How come I’m the only adult here?”
“Jenny’s mum came to get her,” Daley supplied. “Sam and Jez have gone home too.”
“So it’s just Daley who’s been kept back?” Humphrey asked the teacher, “seriously?”
“From our understanding, Daley was the instigator, or at least escalated the fight instead of getting an adult, which is what we teach our students.”
“I wasn’t just gonna leave!” Daley shouted, looking quite upset. “She’d been hit! She were upset!” He looked from the teacher to Humphrey, who’s heart broke for him. Poor blighter was getting run right over here.
“And,” the teacher continued, “we were waiting on his father to pick him up.”
“Well I’m here now,” Humphrey said, not bothering to hide his glare.
“Be that as it may, we will have to have a proper talk about Daley’s role in all this.”
“Have you talked with the other kids about their role?” Humphrey asked, eyebrow raised. “And not their version, the actual one, or did you just take their word for it and let ‘em tootle off home?”
Mrs Whittacker’s face soured.
“I’ll take that as a yes, that’s exactly what you did.” Humphrey sighed. “Look, this isn’t going to get sorted until all the kids are admitting what really happened, then all the parents and kids can be talked to properly. So until that happens, I think it’s time me and Daley were going.” Humphrey told her, buoyed when Daley immediately reached up and took his hand. He was clearly very ready to go too.
Sure, he'd told him to come to 'keep an eye' but he wasn't best pleased right now and he was getting stressed with the teacher, which wasn't great when Daley was also getting stressed with her, so Humphrey decided the best course of action was to leave so that everything could calm down. It would all be sorted properly with Pat, and maybe Carol, later on. They were his parents, they would sort it out properly when things had had chance to settle and be discussed with all the right parties.
"You can't leave with him, he has to be taken by a parent or guardian-"
"Or partner," Humphrey pointed out, a little snarkily, "which I am."
Cor, he said that with a lot more confidence than he felt. Probably because he sort of wished it was true.
"You have to sign for me," Daley said, looking terribly pleased with himself. He pointed to the clipboard on the receptionists desk with an innocent smile that didn't fool Humphrey one bit.
"Alright then." He signed his name, scrawled down the time and Daley's name, all while ignoring Mrs Whittacker’s protests. There was written proof that he'd taken Daley, which should cover him if they decided to cause a fuss. He'd put his proper details down, and Pat would vouch for him that he didn't kidnap the kid.
"Sorry mate," Humphrey apologized when he'd bundled Daley into the car and set off. "Didn't mean to haul you off like that."
"It's okay. I wanted to go, she wasn't listening to me at all."
"I know bud."
"Dad says you shouldn't make fun of people because they're different."
"And he's absolutely right," Humphrey agreed, putting the indicator on.
"...Dad's different, isn't he?" Daley said after a moment. "He has autism, like uncle Cap. I think Jenny has that too, but I'm not sure.
"He does," Humphrey told him. It had never been any kind of secret. "And I know he liked to play football with the other kids when he was in primary, but he also liked to sit inside sometimes and read instead of play. Everybody likes different things."
Daley fiddled with his bookbag. "I know. I like to play, but I don't like to play all the time. Did you like to play?
Humphrey frowned, thinking back to his school days. They were much further back than he'd like to admit. "I liked to read a lot. More than your dad, I think. I didn't get along with the other boys much," he told him honestly. "I wasn't bullied or nothing, I just... didn't really gel well. I liked to climb the trees and sit up there instead, reading, and that's okay."
"I know."
Humphrey smiled. "Good. For what it's worth, kid… hitting people isn't great. But I know you know that already," he quickly added, before Daley could get defensive. "I'm proud of you, though. I'd rather you hadn't got in a fight over it, and I know that everyone'll say you should have gone for a teacher-"
"But there weren’t time," Daley said. "If I'd run to go get someone, Jenny woulda got hit a lot more. I weren’t just gonna leave her to get beat up; she's not good at fighting."
You probably shouldn't be as good as you are, Humphrey thought, but he didnt say that. Instead, he said, "I know that. That's actually what I was gonna say. I don't uh, I know your teachers don't agree, and I don't even know if your dad will either - at least not all the way - and I might get in trouble with him for sayin' so, but I get why you fought instead of getting an adult. I think what you did to day was good, and I'm proud of you for standing up for someone."
Daley smiled at him. It was a shyer smile than Humphrey had expected, smaller.
"Now uh, I'll be honest here mate, I'm not really sure what to do now," Humphrey admitted, after a few more turns. "I have no idea if you're dad's still in traffic or not, or where he is. I wasn't really supposed to take you. I was meant to wait for your dad."
Humphrey pulled a face. "I actually have no idea where I'm driving right now."
This didn't seem to phase Daley, who was more than familiar with Humphrey's terrible sense of direction.
"We could go back to my house?" Daley suggested. "That's where dad would take me. But we could go to your house, since I'm with you. Maybe that's where dad would expect to find me?"
"What would Pat do…" He muttered. Where did you do with a kid in this situation? Going straight home and getting sent to your room sounded right for getting into a fight, but Humphrey didn't really think he had that kind of authority, and frankly he didn't want to punish Daley anyway. He'd done a good thing, in his mind, something Pat would probably reward, not punish. "He'd probably take him out for ice cream," he chuckled to himself.
Then he paused.
He looked at Daley.
"Screw it," he said, and took the next left.
They were sat eating 99s with all the trimmings when Pat found them.
Humphrey looked up when a shadow fell across him. "I uh... I took him for ice cream?" He said, suddenly quite bashful.
"I can see that." Pat said. He looked… amused. Not angry, which made Humphrey very relieved.
"I thought, well, what would Pat do, and I thought: ‘he’d probably take him for ice cream’. I thought it as a joke but… he kind of deserves it.”
Pat raised an eyebrow. "Does he now?"
"He does," Humphrey nodded. "At least, I think so. He was protecting someone, and he only hit when he got hit first."
"He did?"
"Yeah."
"Is that true, Day?"
Daley nodded, his mouth covered in ice cream. "Sam hit Jenny, so I tried to stop her. She hit me, I hit back. Then Jez joined in and there was a lot of hitting."
"It tracks, from what I can tell." Humphrey added. "Sorry I took him out of school, I know you sent me just to keep an eye, but it uh, it got a bit out of hand and I couldn't really just stay there any more. They weren't being fair to him.” He looked away, suddenly, feeling awkward with Pat’s gaze on him. God, what had he been thinking? “And the ice cream,” he continued, the words just falling out of his mouth, “I really did think he deserved it. I’m sorry, I know he shouldn't have been fighting and I probably shouldn’t have rewarded him, I know I should’ve left that to you, you’re his dad, but I–”
“It’s alright,” Pat assured him. He reached out with his free hand and squeezed his arm, which grounded Humphrey a bit. “Really, mate. I trust your judgment. If you picked him up after a fight and ended up taking him for ice cream of all things, well, you’d gotta have a reason.”
“A good one, I’d like to think.” Apologetically, Humphrey offered him the other, untouched half of his ice cream, which Pat took. "Not that uh, not that the teacher I met agreed with me. Sorry about the earful you're probably gonna get when you go back to the school."
"It was Mrs Whittacker," Daley practically spat, and he and Humphrey both felt vindicated when Pat's face twisted.
"Yeah, wasn't a fan of her," Humphrey grimaced. "And let me tell you, the feeling was mutual. Safe to say I was not great advertisement for your taste in men."
Pat squinted at him, pausing mid-lick. "My taste in men?"
"Oh yeah," he said absently, deliberately looking anywhere other than Pat as he announced, "we’re boyfriends now apparently.”
Pat blinked. “…We’re what now?”
Humphrey jabbed a thumb at Daley, who was looking quite smug. “Ask your son. According to him, you were gonna tell them next week. Would've been nice to know about that ahead of time, y'know, I like being in the loop about when we're coming out to people."
Pat went red, stammering and blushing, not knowing whether to look at Daley or Humphrey. "I am– oh my god Humph, I am so sorry."
Humphrey laughed, bumping Pat's shoulder with his own. "Don't worry yourself, I'm only teasing." He grinned at Pat's blush, the other man mortified. "Nice to know I've still got it; pulled you without even knowing it!"
Pat choked, mumbling out something that sounded like, "yeah you did." One hand covering his face, he turned to Daley, who shrugged, completely unrepentant of his subterfuge.
“Well when Humphrey got here they were trying to kick him out because he wasn't you or mum. But they would have let Morris in because he’s mum's boyfriend, so I thought they would let Humphrey in if I said he was your boyfriend.”
“It was pretty genius, actually. And it did work,'' Humphrey admitted. “I think she was too worried about getting called out on being homophobic to protest much, really.”
“Unsurprising. Mrs Whittacker is a bit, well.” Pat broke off, face sour. He clearly didn't want to finish his sentence but that was okay, because Humphrey was quite happy to finish it for him.
“Of a bitch.” He muttered. “Yeah, I gathered.”
Pat gave him a look for swearing in front of Daley, but the smile tugging at his lips told Humphrey he didn't disagree.
There was a small, but companionable silence as Pat finished off Humphrey's ice cream, broken by the occasional giggle as Humphrey poked fun of Pat's still very visible blush and Pat thwacked his arm.
Eventually, Pat's blush faded and Humphrey left him alone. He was contemplating getting one of those cakes Alison gave them from the car when Pat nudged his foot with his.
"Thanks for being there today," he said softly. "Really. I was going out of my mind in that bloody car."
"I know you were," Humphrey said, reaching over to put a comforting arm around Pat's shoulders. "I know. And it's fine, really."
Pat shook his head. “Don't play this down, Humph. I was worried sick about him. When they’d said he’d been in a fight of all things… I mean, that's not like Daley, you know it's not, and for all I know he could have been really hurt!”
Humphrey pulled Pat in for a quick hug, squeezing him tight. Pat loved a good hug, he did, and Humphrey could already feel him start to untense. "I know, mate," Humphrey said, "I know." He pulled back and looked him in the eye. “But he’s fine Pat, honest. A bit bruised, but he's fine. He did really well, in my opinion.”
“I know.” Pat stepped back, shaking his hands out and wiping at his glasses. "I know," he repeated, breathing out steadily. “Sorry. I was just so worried. You have no idea how relieved I am, god, I could kiss you–” Pat screeched to a halt, looking up at him with frightfully wide eyes, his flush back in full force. It was clear he wished he could put the words back in his mouth, but it was too late for that, and if Humphrey was genuinely, completely truthfully honest with himself, he didn't want Pat to.
And fuck, when they'd been joking about it being real before, Pat had been embarrassed, sure, but not upset or disgusted. Not like he'd rather they weren't. And now, Pat was looking at him like he was afraid Humphrey would think those things, like he wished otherwise.
So Humphrey swallowed, channeling some of that Daley bravery and said, “You– you could. If you really wanted to.”
Pat blinked. Then he turned red. “Well, it is what boyfriends do,” he suggested and Humphrey choked.
“It is,'' Humphrey wheezed. “They do uh, they do do that. So I've heard.”
“Maybe they should do it when Daley has gone to bed,” Pat suggested awkwardly, glancing at his son.
Humphrey looked at Daley who was staring at them with big, round eyes, looking far too interested. He quickly went back to his 99, but not quick enough.
“Maybe that's for the best.”
“Does that mean Humphrey's coming round for tea then?” Daley asked.
Humphrey looked at Pat. "I mean, I am free. And Alison gave me some cakes since, you know, you stood me up today, so I've got pudding covered." He glanced at Daley and his ice cream. "...Second pudding," he amended.
“I did stand you up,” Pat agreed. “Only right of me, really, to make up for that.”
“I did feel so very awful being stood up.” Humphrey said, giving Pat some big, sad eyes.
Pat clicked his tongue, grinning, and Humphrey smiled.
He might not be getting a kiss until much later, but when Pat reached across and entangled their fingers together, that made Humphrey very happy indeed.