Work Text:
“Golly, Henry, here we thought you weren’t the type to sleep your way to the top.”
Without hesitation, Henry grabbed one of the balled-up pieces of paper he’d set aside for this exact purpose and threw it at Allison. She ducked, giggling, before fully entering Joey’s office.
Henry, seated at Joey’s desk, gave her an evil eye before continuing to flip through the documents in front of him. “Believe me, this is the last desk I want to be sitting at right now.”
She came around the side to join him, scrunching up her nose at the paperwork. “I’ve gotta agree with you on that one. I don’t envy you a bit.” Leaning her hip against the desk, she eyed him critically. “How’re you doing, anyway?”
Slumping back in his chair, Henry sighed. “I’m fine. I can’t really complain, can I? I’m not at home with one of the worst flus I’ve ever seen in my life.”
Unlike many others. The culprit for the widespread illness, far as Henry and the others who had been spared could guess, was a potluck-type lunch held on the previous Saturday in celebration of—something. Henry couldn’t remember. But everyone who hadn’t been able to go was feeling fine, and almost every attendee was still sick as a dog four days later.
There was some irony, to Henry’s mild amusement, that the offending, flu-spreading potluck had taken place on April 1. What a joke.
It was less funny that over half the studio was out sick, though. Including Joey. Hence why Henry was in his office, playing the messenger for his partner and boss. Even utterly miserable, Joey refused to just rest like a normal person and play catch-up once he felt better.
Henry was maybe doing more than Joey had asked from him to try and make it easier on his partner. Nothing major, and nothing anyone had any scruples with, but it did mean Allison was far from the first person to make the joke that he’d quite successfully slept his way to the top.
“Flu or not, you’re juggling a job and a half right now, Henry,” Allison said. “And I’m sure Joey being sick isn’t doing anything for your mood.”
He shrugged. “No one likes seeing someone they care about feel so awful. How’s Thomas?”
Allison laughed lightly. “Rueing his decision to stick around the potluck after dropping off our dish. I’ve never seen him so sick.”
They lingered in a companionable silence for a minute as Henry finally finished sorting out different piles of urgent, non-urgent, and matters Henry could see to.
“You missed lunch yesterday,” Allison eventually said.
“I fell asleep,” he admitted. He stood and stretched with a groan.
“Have you not been sleeping well?” She acquired the look of someone about to reach out and test his forehead for a fever. “You said you were fine.”
“And I am. Joey’s temperature was up last night, and he couldn’t keep anything down. I only got a couple sporadic hours on the couch.”
“Ah. It’s the same with Thomas. I can barely convince him to at least try drinking some water.”
They shared a commiserating glance over their significant others.
“I suppose you’re here to take up Susie’s cause?” Henry said.
Allison wagged her finger at him. “Don’t think I haven’t heard Joey, too, mention that you’re prone to forgetting meals. Someone around here has to make sure you’re taking care of yourself—especially since you’re doing so much for the studio right now.”
He followed her out of Joey’s office, lunch in hand. “It’s not that much,” he protested before yawning.
She rolled her eyes as she pushed into the break room. “Roe!” she called to the only other member of their friend group who had avoided the flu. “Tell Henry what happened the last time Joey was out for a few days!”
“You don’t have to—”
Roe steamrolled right over him. “It was chaos, pal. You’d think we could all manage on our own for a bit, like mature, responsible adults, but nope. As soon as everyone finished whatever they were already working on, it was like everything ground to a halt. It had been sudden too, so it wasn’t like we had standing orders.”
“It couldn’t have been that bad.”
“The timing didn’t help,” they admitted. “A new cartoon was just gettin’ started, so there were a lotta things that needed Joey’s approval. It was still the early days, so… learning curves and all that.”
“And there was a general lack of organization between departments,” Allison added, popping open her salad. “It’s gotten better since then. Joey sure keeps the interns busy, running all over the place with messages and memos and whatnot.”
“It’s smooth sailing this time,” Roe said pointedly.
“I bet Joey’s real grateful,” Allison teased him.
“I bet he’s even more grateful that you’re playing nurse for him.” Roe wiggled their eyebrows.
Henry, for his own sake, didn’t mention Joey’s promises of showing just how grateful he was for Henry’s help and care once he was better. He bit into his slapdash PB&J and ignored their snickering.
“It’s weird not to have Joey and his army of interns around,” Roe mumbled contemplatively. They snorted. “He needs to hire a secretary or a personal assistant. I’ve seen his organization skills. It’s a miracle he can find anything.”
“Henry seemed to have everything well in order,” Allison said. “Maybe that’s your true calling. What’dya say, Henry, how does being Joey’s personal assistant sound?”
“The rumors about what we get up to behind closed doors are bad enough,” Henry said wryly. “I think that would only make them worse.”
Roe snorted. “I doubt they’d get much work done anyway.”
Allison giggled as Henry sighed. “Thank you, Roe, for proving my point.”
“Aw, it wouldn’t be that bad,” Allison said.
“Yeah, I mean,” Roe added with a troublemaker’s grin, “you only almost gave Susie a heart attack with the hickeys. I can’t see how it could get worse than that.”
Henry slyly eyed them over the tops of his glasses. “Is that a challenge I hear?”
“No!” Allison and Roe both cried. A light flush colored Allison’s cheeks before she buried her face in her hands, laughing.
Roe shuddered dramatically. “I take it back, I take it back. I’ve already seen you two make out in the halls; I do not need more of a visual.”
“You two started it,” he said, smugly taking a bite of his sandwich. “If you can’t take the heat…”
Roe kicked at him under the table, and of course that meant he had to retaliate until Allison threatened to separate them. Never let it be said that Henry couldn’t give as good as he got. Even if that meant matching bruises on both of their ankles.
• • •
In his months of working at the studio, Henry had visited more departments than he’d ever expected to as an animator. He was slowly becoming familiar with the layout and different floors and the people who worked in each department. But he still had a long way to go before he’d met everyone or been everywhere.
The first floor was not familiar to him. He’d helped carry boxes up here once a month or so ago, but that hadn’t give him much of an opportunity to look around.
Wally had somewhat pointed him in the right direction, but Wally’s attempt to give directions involved too much backtracking and correcting himself to be of much help. Somewhere to the left of the lift was the best Henry had walked away with.
It was pretty quiet up here, though Henry couldn’t be sure if that was normal or because of all the employees out sick. Besides housing the accounting and marketing departments, the first floor was home to the repair workshop and storage rooms for the studio’s varied equipment. And that workshop was his destination.
A wrong turn or two later, Henry finally poked his head around yet another unmarked door and was met with a large, long room full of old parts and boxes of supplies, tools littering the worktables in the center and hanging from a board on the only wall without a shelving unit. Something clattered deeper in—it looked like the room might be L-shaped.
“Hello?” Henry called out, stepping inside. “Anybody home?”
“Just little ole me and a couple creepy crawlies,” someone called back with a chuckle. There was some shuffling before a dark-skinned man with a handful of inches on Henry rounded the corner. “What can I do ya for?”
He looked up as he set down the box in his arms, and a wide grin immediately took the place of the relaxed sort of expression he wore. He cackled, and Henry might have been offended if the man didn’t sound so delighted.
“Henry, right?” he asked, coming forward. “We haven’t met officially yet, but I was the lucky soul in the projector booth on the day you subbed in on violin a couple weeks ago. I’m Norman, Norman Polk.”
“Nice to meet you, Norman.” Bemused, Henry shook his hand. “What made you so lucky that day?”
Norman laughed and thumbed at his suspenders. “Because it’s not often someone snaps back at Sammy like that. Me’n’him, we got a solid understanding with each other, and if I’m in a good mood, I’d even call him a friend. But he’s a grouch with a hell of a sharp tongue, and I’d be a dirty liar if I claimed I didn’t enjoy seeing him meet his match.”
“I do recall you laughing up there, yeah,” Henry said with a little chuckle of his own. “I’ve known people like Sammy before; you just gotta speak their language. They don’t really mean anything by it.”
Nodding along, Norman agreed, “Exactly. Their language is all irritation and imperiousness. And you sure know when they do mean it.”
“They can smell fear,” Henry teased.
“Ain’t that the truth!” Norman rocked back on his heels, grinning wildly. “Good to know you’ll get along just fine with ole Sammy. The man could use more friends. Especially ones to keep him humble.” He winked.
Henry smiled, knowing there was no hiding his mischief. “And for a noble cause like that, I’m happy to volunteer my services. Keeps me on my toes, too, and some friendly back-and-forth never hurt anyone. I’m not one to mince words myself, though I like to think I’m not quite so snappish about it.”
Norman waved his concern away. “I’ve heard only good things, pal, and I’m no stranger to the rumor mill. ’Sides, anyone who can’t handle some sass can make their friends elsewhere. Now—what brings you up to my corner of the studio, anyway?”
“Joey’s got me keeping up with some of his usual tasks and whatnot.” Henry lifted a small notebook with half its pages ripped out. “Including a shopping list. Wally mentioned the repair room was in need of some parts, so I figured I’d stop by.”
“I appreciate you makin’ the trip. Sure beats having to track Joey down myself,” Norman admitted. “He doesn’t come up here much; he avoids accounting like he owes them money, ha!”
Henry snickered. Joey half feared Grant Cohen, much to most of the studio’s amusement. He’d never met the man himself, but he doubted he’d ever make the short list of people Grant had any grievances with. Unlike Joey.
Norman led him to one of the workbenches, and together, they added the parts and hardware that the repair room had been running low on to the list. They chatted as they worked—Norman revealed he had a penchant for eavesdropping and enjoyed hearing the latest news in the rumor mill, though he was seldom an active participant himself.
Henry could understand that. He wasn’t one to go out of his way to listen in on other people’s conversations, but he couldn’t help what people said around him when they forgot he was there. Sliding into the background was an old habit of his. A useful one at times, though he’d developed the skill nearly by accident. Silence and stillness—wanting to be left alone—did that.
His grandfather, back then, had been one of the few people who never blocked out his presence. Not even when Henry had wanted him to. He used to vacillate between being grateful and irritated about it. Years later, he’d settled firmly on the former.
Norman shared some of the wilder rumors—ones that didn’t involve Henry, thank goodness—ranging from whispers of multiple secret rendezvous in one of the janitor closets to a woman in administration possibly having over a dozen cats to speculations about a man in the band secretly being a well-known anonymous graffiti artist.
Despite having Susie as a friend, Henry hadn’t heard of half of the gossip going around the studio.
Even after they finished the list, Henry lingered. Norman was exceptionally easy to get along with, and Henry’s only regret was that they hadn’t met sooner.
They were winding down when Norman grinned slyly. “So, should I be offering congratulations on sleeping your way to the top? It’s only been, what? Three months? Not bad, Henry, not bad.”
Henry rolled his eyes with a snort. “How original. I certainly haven’t heard that one before.”
Norman leaned on the table, looking pleased with himself. “I could see myself workin’ for you.”
Henry bonked him on the head with the notebook. “Anyone who tries to drag me away from my animator’s desk will have a fight on their hands.”
“Heh, I’m the same with my projectors, pal. But really—has it been three months?”
“Thereabouts, yeah.”
“Bossman treating you well?”
Henry grinned. “Well, whoever said there were perks to sleeping with the boss clearly didn’t know what they were talking about. The amount of free labor Joey’s gotten from me…” They shared a chuckle before Henry said, “Nah, it’s been real good. No complaints here.”
Norman eyed him, nodding slowly. “And you would, I think. Complain. It probably won’t come as much of a surprise, but a lotta us who don’t—or didn’t—really know you were… concerned. Y’know… that you were tryin’ to get something from Joey. Usin’ him.”
“I do know. Wally accidentally gave me a shovel talk about it.”
Norman barked a laugh. “That kid! Ha!” He shook his head, grinning fondly. “Most of us don’t hold that opinion now, of course. And I think we could be good friends, Henry, so I don’t want you to think we were all against you or anything. Matter’a fact, we were worried about you too.”
It wasn’t a big leap to make. “The boss thing.” Hadn’t Henry himself wondered about the potential power imbalance? It was genuinely easy to forget about, months later and knowing Joey so well now.
“Yeah. It didn’t seem like something Joey’d be capable of, but hell, that’s what everyone says. And all’a us here at the studio—we look out for each other. Some of us have come from other jobs with bosses who weren’t as stand-up as Joey; some of us… know it can be hard to say no to certain people. But… I think you could. I bet you have.”
Of course Henry had. Not often, though, but that said more about Joey being so good at understanding and respecting Henry’s boundaries than about Henry’s ability to refuse him something. He nodded.
It almost surprised Henry, the breath of relief Norman released. “I appreciate it—that you guys were willing to look out for me if I needed it,” Henry said honestly. “Even if you probably would’ve had to get in line behind Susie if it turned out Joey had bad intentions.”
“Truer words, pal. It was before your time, but a department head got a little handsy with one of the younger voice actors. By the time Susie was through with him, I bet he wished Joey had found out first.”
He could believe it. Henry had only seen Susie truly lose her temper once, and to say she went apoplectic was an understatement. “She’s a good friend,” he said.
“And a worse enemy,” Norman said with a playful shudder.
“May we stay on her good side.”
“Amen to that, pal. Amen.”
• • •
Henry couldn’t keep from yawning as he unlocked Joey’s front door. His messenger bag was heavier than normal with all the paperwork he was bringing home, and his feet might have dragged over the threshold. He felt weighted down in all ways. The business side of things had never interested him, and playing substitute boss was really only reaffirming that.
After kicking off his shoes and wrestling out of his jacket, he set his bag by the couch in the living room. The house was silent and still, though that didn’t necessarily mean Joey was sleeping. It just meant Henry wasn’t arriving to his poor partner dry heaving like he had yesterday.
Keeping quiet just in case, Henry bee-lined for the kitchen. His lunch hadn’t been enough, not when he’d skipped breakfast. In between more yawning, he enjoyed a simple snack of cheese and crackers. He stared blankly and maybe a little longingly at the couch over the island counter, but a nap wasn’t an option quite yet.
Filling a plastic bowl with pretzels—Joey’d had mild success yesterday with them before his stomach rebelled with a vengeance—and grabbing a water bottle, Henry tiptoed to the bedroom. The door wasn’t closed all the way so he could push it open enough to peek inside without disturbing Joey.
Joey certainly seemed to be asleep at first glance, all curled up, but he shifted after a few seconds. He lifted his head to blink blearily at Henry. “Oh,” he said hoarsely. “I wasn’t sure if I’d heard you or not.”
“Did I wake you?” Henry asked, stepping into the bedroom.
Joey rolled over onto his back with a miserable groan. “No, no. I’ve just been dozing for the past few hours. I thought I heard the front door open, but you were so quiet, I couldn’t tell if I’d imagined it.” He sent a resigned glare at the pretzels and water as Henry set them on his nightstand.
Henry checked the plastic bucket they’d put beside the bed since Joey was in no condition to scramble for the toilet. It wasn’t empty, unfortunately, but it also wasn’t as bad as days previous. “You feeling any better?” he asked as he picked it up and went to the attached bathroom to clean it out.
With the same weak little protest as every other time Henry did any of the… less pleasant tasks that came with sickness, Joey sent him an apologetic look. As if he was throwing up on purpose. “It hasn’t been too bad today,” he croaked. “I certainly don’t feel good, but the nausea is leaving me alone for the time being.” He sniffled loudly, congested.
“That’s good.”
“You really don’t need to do that, Henry,” he protested as Henry returned the clean bucket to its spot. “I can handle it next time I’m up.”
Henry raised an eyebrow. “All right, hotshot, if you can make it to the bathroom without hobbling, I’ll believe that.”
Defeated once more, Joey huffed, devolving into coughs for a moment as a result. “But it’s—”
“Something I’m sure you’d insist on doing if our roles were reversed.” Henry helped him to sit up against some pillows, then sat down on the edge of the bed, sending his partner a pointed look.
Joey grumbled, realizing Henry was right and had therefore invalidated all of his arguments. Especially if he ever wanted to help when Henry inevitably got sick someday. “Still,” he insisted. “I’m sorry that you have to clean up after me in such a way. It can’t be pleasant.”
He shrugged. “I’ll live,” Henry said wryly. “And I really don’t mind helping you—or taking care of you, whichever you prefer.”
“You’re an excellent nurse,” Joey reassured him, and for all their jokes, Henry knew he was pleased, in a nearly bashful way, about being taken care of.
“Good to know I have yet another talent to fall back on if the animating thing doesn’t work out.”
Joey huffed, half a laugh, half indignation. “Doesn’t work out,” he repeated. “As if I’d let one of my animators go so easily.” His smile turned sly. “Or are you just fishing for compliments?”
Curse Joey for being an incorrigible tease, even while sick. Henry wagged at finger at him. “Don’t you start, mister.”
“I could recite poetry if it’s compliments you’re after,” Joey offered, and when he smiled, some of the tiredness eased away. “I could write poetry. Expound upon your eyes, or your smile. Your laugh.”
Ducking his head, Henry sighed fondly, maybe chuckling a little. “How about you save the mushy sappiness for when you aren’t contagious and I can thank you properly, huh?”
His partner perked up slightly. “I could do a verse about your kisses. About how addicting they are—”
“Stop,” Henry begged, leaning forward to move the bowl of pretzels from the nightstand to Joey’s hand. “And make better use of your mouth.”
“Better use, perhaps, but certainly not the best use.” Joey pouted at Henry.
Overly aware that the last of his old hickeys had finished fading away by this morning, Henry rolled his eyes. “Not until you’re better,” he said firmly.
“Just one?”
“No.”
Mulishly munching on a pretzel, Joey mumbled, “How will I maintain my claim?”
“Believe me,” Henry told him, remembering the way the receptionists had cooed about how sweet it was that Joey trusted him to help, “that’s not at all in question.” Add in the fact that no one had really questioned Henry’s presence in Joey’s office… it was probably safe to say the majority of the studio saw them as incontrovertibly linked. Not that Henry minded.
Joey smiled smugly at the bedcovers. “Good, good.”
Henry laid his hand on Joey’s knee as they fell into a comfortable silence. He’d never considered himself to be clingy, but he liked physical affection as much as the next person. And it’d been a long few days without it, made all the worse by Joey being physically present. Business trips were one thing; having to force himself to maintain distance was another. Especially when he wanted to offer comfort beyond merely his company.
Hugs made people feel better, simple as that. But they hadn’t been willing to risk it, either of them. Joey, in fact, had been quite firm on that. They’d had a bit of an argument at the beginning of the flu about it, even. Henry had insisted on staying to help; Joey, with his meager energy, had been vehement about Henry not being around him until he was better.
Henry only really won the standoff because Joey could barely stand at all.
It surely had to pass soon, though. The flu couldn’t last forever. Any day now, Joey’d be on the upswing. If he could just keep some food and water down, if his fever would just pack its bags, if the lethargic ache of illness would just lift…
He sighed. Joey wiggled his leg, nudging Henry’s hip. They shared a wordless look of soon and just a little longer and I know but it still sucks. Commiseration and patience and understanding.
“How was your day?” Joey asked once he’d finished the pretzels. A bit of color had returned to his sickly complexion. “Did you have any trouble finding those documents I wanted?”
With a chuckle, Henry answered, “Not once I figured out your bizarre organization system. Why couldn’t you be a normal person and file things by date or in alphabetical order?”
He pouted. “It works fine for me.”
“Level of importance is too subjective for anyone else to use it, though.”
“But you figured it out,” Joey half pointed out, half asked hopefully.
“Because I’m cursed—sorry, privileged to know your mind well enough to put myself in your shoes.” He grinned as Joey stuck his tongue out at him. “Actually, Allison suggested I could be your personal assistant since I had things so well in hand.”
It took only a moment for Joey’s thoughts to turn in the same direction as the lunchtime conversation had. His eyes lit up, and Henry snorted.
“I would be willing to lose you as my animator if you became my personal assistant,” Joey announced magnanimously.
“In your dreams, mister.”
“Oh, most certainly—”
“I met Norman Polk today,” Henry said loudly. “I like him; I think we’ll be good friends.”
Joey pulled himself out of his fantasies with visible effort, then nodded. “I’m not surprised. You do well with the snarky ones.”
“I’d say the snarky ones do well with me.”
“I suppose it would go both ways,” Joey decided with a chuckle. “I’ll have to keep an eye on you two. You could be right terrors together, I think.”
“Us and Sammy,” Henry corrected, solely for the reaction he knew it’d get.
He visibly imagined it for a moment before laughing, caught somewhere on the spectrum of hysterical. “Oh, have mercy, darling. The three of you? You’ll give my poor employees nightmares.”
• • •
Henry blinked dazedly into the darkness of the living room. There was nothing but silence coming from Joey’s bedroom, so he didn’t think anything in particular had disturbed his slumber. Waking up sporadically was just a consequence of sleeping on the couch.
Well, he was already regrettably conscious, so he might as well check on Joey.
With a muted groan, he fumbled out from under his blanket and to his feet. His back protested, and he stretched for a long, satisfying minute. Moonlight shone through the windows, enough to light his way to the short hallway leading to Joey’s room. He paused outside the door, listening for movement. Nothing.
On silent feet, he entered.
It was the most peaceful Joey had looked in his sleep since he caught the flu. Normally, Henry found him tossing and turning, sweating, or with a pinched expression on his face. He laid a gentle hand on Joey’s forehead. Even unpracticed as he was, it finally didn’t feel overly warm to him.
Henry closed his eyes and released a quiet breath of relief. Hopefully, Joey would get actual good rest and sleep through the remainder of the night, and maybe even feel better in the morning.
He carefully adjusted the covers and brushed a wayward lock of Joey’s hair back. He’d hated having to watch his partner suffer these past few days, feeling quite helpless. No matter how much anyone claimed he’d done to help, he hadn’t been able to do the one thing he’d wanted, and that was to actually make Joey feel better, in the “less sick” sense of the word.
Before he could turn to leave, Joey stirred slightly. His eyes slitted open as he made a small confused noise. He started to lift his head.
“It’s just me,” Henry whispered, leaning forward. He gently ran his fingers through Joey’s hair, immediately making him relax again. “I wanted to check on you.”
Joey mumbled something incoherent, clearly still mostly asleep. Henry smiled fondly. He kept up the repetitive caress as Joey settled. He blinked a few times, but Henry doubted he was really taking anything in.
“Henry,” he muttered, his mouth almost not moving at all.
Instead of responding, he dared to lean down and press a kiss to Joey’s forehead.
His partner hummed lowly, a faint smile turning up the corners of his mouth. An instinctual reaction, and Henry had to fight back his amusement.
“Good night, Joey,” he whispered, reluctantly pulling away.
Joey hummed again, already smushing his face back into his pillow. “Love you,” he mumbled.
Henry’s heart skipped a beat as he went completely still for a moment. Joey’s breath was already evening out into sleep by the time the words processed properly in Henry’s head.
“You ridiculous man,” Henry said, nearly soundless. Joey didn’t so much as twitch. All the better, because the amount of fondness in his voice was nearly embarrassing. He shook his head, smiling uncontrollably, and carefully made his way out of the bedroom. “What am I going to do with you?”
He collapsed back onto the couch and made himself comfortable. Only when he was ensconced in his blanket did Henry let out a tiny helpless laugh into his hands. He wondered if Joey meant it, or if it’d been meaningless reflex. He wondered if it would happen again. Joey clearly hadn’t been aware. Henry would have to wait for Joey to actually say it while fully conscious.
Then, and only then, would he say it back.
Henry fell asleep with a smile on his face.