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William sighs, tracing circles onto Henry’s chest. He’s still half awake, holding onto William’s waist noncommittally. Like he doesn’t even care that he has a beautiful man right here, waiting for him to wake up! William almost leaves at the very thought, but then decides to give Henry some credit. He’s been working hard lately, William begrudgingly thinks to herself.
Lazy days are rare. Which absolutely blows considering it’s William’s favorite kind of day. Henry’s wife had taken Charlie camping, and William had begged Henry to come up with an excuse not to go. William’s own kids aren’t really his problem, so he comes and goes as he pleases. And Fredbear’s Diner can last the weekend without the two of them, so here they are— in Henry’s bed, William resting on Henry’s chest.
William once again feels annoyed that he isn’t awake right now. Henry’s sleeping face is adorable, yet infuriating; William either wants to kiss him silly or wake him up. Eventually he decides on just letting the man rest, again. Not because William thinks he deserves it, but simply because he’s a wonderful friend to his good buddy Henry Emily!
Besides, William enjoys being able to stare at Henry. She does it all the time anyway, but it’s nice not being interrupted by Henry getting embarrassed, or a question from a customer.
Although not actually short lived, William still feels like Henry should have slept longer. He doesn’t push William off of him like he used to, but his face takes on a guilty look. He wears it often.
William smiles dazzlingly anyways. “Good morning, darling!”
Henry rubs his eyes awake, but it’ll still take a while for him to be coherent. He mumbles, “what time is it?”
“I dunno, early evening? You slept all day, dear,” William says mischievously. It’s only 9 AM, but he likes teasing Henry.
“What?!” Henry doesn’t bolt upright, but his eyes widen in fear. “Why did-”
“Oh, relax! It’s 9 AM.”
Henry visibly relaxes, shutting his eyes again. His hand on William’s waist leaves to cover his face in embarrassment. William doesn’t like this but doesn’t say anything either. Another small mercy— she simply doesn’t know why she’s so nice today.
It’s silent, and William continues tracing shapes into Henry’s chest. He’s still so warm, even if he’s now awake and not a living furnace like he is when he’s asleep.
“Wanna go to the market with me?” Henry asks, in that grumbly morning voice he uses occasionally. William falls for it every time.
She sighs. Despite how much he would love to indulge Henry, William doesn’t want to get out of bed. “No.”
Henry opens his eyes again and his lip nearly trembles. It’s cartoonish and quite frankly, William doesn’t even try holding back a small giggle. “Why not?”
“We don’t get to spend time together like this, Henry,” William whines. She bats her eyelashes, pleading.
Henry tilts his head (adorable), and looks confused (even more adorable). “Do you have somethin’ in your eye, Will?” (much less adorable)
William flops back on his chest dramatically, placing a hand to his forehead and all but actually crying. “Heenryyy!”
“What?!” Henry’s brow furrows, which is normally endearing. “I don’t understand, are ya sick?”
William stands up, pushing him away and going to the kitchen. “Whatever, let’s just go!” He huffs loudly to prove his point.
Henry is stupid, so he only follows and smiles at William.
“D…Darlin’,” Henry cringes as he says it, but he definitely knows how William likes pet names, “I understand you wanna stay in, but I gotta buy groceries. And-and, it’s just like shoppin’! They have plenty’a… clothes.”
Henry stands there, still half awake and his shirt wrinkled from sleep. He holds a near empty container of orange juice and William can’t help but think he’s just so pathetic it’s adorable.
She sighs once more for dramatic effect and smiles sweetly, wrapping her arms around Henry’s neck (he almost drops the jug of juice, but this is of little consequence to William).
“Well, I suppose I could manage it for an hour or two. You’re buying me some jewelry or something though.”
Getting ready is a whole ordeal. William spends at least half an hour doing his makeup and getting all dolled up, and Henry waits impatiently for him. When William is done, he’s offended at how little effort Henry has put into his appearance and makes him change into something nicer.
William doesn’t say it’s a date, but they both know that’s what she’s implying. Henry gets dressed anyways, and by the time they pile into Henry’s horrible truck it’s mid afternoon.
Henry turns on the radio, but William complains about the boring men talking about boring things so he puts in one of his CDs instead. It’s not as insufferable, at least. William still talks the whole way— about Fredbear’s, about wanting to be sleeping in still, about how miserable the camping must be for poor Charlie.
At some point during the ride, William had taken Henry’s free hand and placed it on her knee. His hands are always pretty sweaty and gross but William likes how warm they are on his skin. Especially since she’s wearing shorts today, her legs are cold. But he would be lying if he said that was the only reason he did it.
When Henry parks the truck, he pulls his hand away like it’s been burned. His face is a mixture of nervousness (flushed cheeks, biting the inside of his cheek, sweating) and rare assertiveness (furrowed brows, intense eyes). William knows what to expect before he even opens his mouth.
“Listen, Will, I… We can have a good time. Just please don’t make it too… y’know. You know how I get.”
William fawns. “Oh, baby , it’s okay to be embarrassed!”
This gives him the reaction he was hoping for, and Henry looks away so he can’t see his face. William giggles, getting out of the truck and tucking his arm around Henry’s. He pulls his arm away, shooting William a look, and walks ahead. William just cackles and follows close behind.
All in all, it’s not insufferable— at least, not at first. The market is alive and bustling, considering it’s a weekend, so they have to weave in between the crowd. William makes Henry buy him some earrings that catch his attention, then lets himself get dragged along to the actual market.
The heat is the worst, because even though he’s in shorts and a sun hat that provides ample shade, it’s still not enough to cool her off.
“Henry, it’s too hot out!” William complains. “Are we done yet?”
Henry looks apologetic. “Sorry, not yet. I reckon we won’t be for a while.”
William sighs dramatically. Convenient enough, he sees a snow cone truck. It’d be hard to miss— bright colors and an anthropomorphic tucan that reminds William of Fredbear’s make the truck stand out.
He leads Henry there, if not with his hands then with persuasion. He promises not to complain anymore (a lie) and Henry reluctantly agrees.
William asks for grape flavoring. Henry passes the man in the truck a dollar bill. She seethes when they brush fingers, but forgets it when Henry passes the snow cone to her. They walk somewhere in between the truck and a larger stall. It’s pure convenience once again that it’s a secluded area.
Instead of eating the ice, she drains it of the syrup. It’s sweet on his tongue, almost unbearably so, and he’s sure the purple stains his lips. When William notices Henry staring, she smiles. “Want some, Henry?”
He looks confused. “But you barely had any!”
William leans in. “Oh, you should know me by now, dear.” He feels good seeing Henry redden, pressed against the truck. It’s shady here, and the cold syrup has already helped William cool off. But Henry’s skin radiates heat, as always. It’s only worsened by their proximity.
“But the… I.. I'll get all sticky?” Henry sputters. Before William can begin to try to convince him, it’s Henry instead that closes the gap between them. He kisses her lips, not quite gentle but not rough either. The snow cone falls to the floor between them.
Henry holds William’s waist, pulling him closer, and William sighs into his mouth. She holds his face in one hand, sticky fingers holding Henry’s cheek. He’s warm, and the feeling isn’t exactly nice but it’s Henry.
When they finally part, William doesn’t point out Henry’s purple lips. They leave to continue shopping.
The rest of their time at the market is uneventful (as much as William wants to make Henry embarrassed, he knows it’s even rare for him to be seen in public with him).
William has to help carry the bags which makes him absolutely want to die. He complains bringing it all to the truck, complains about it on the way back, and complains bringing it inside. She’s happy to rid the two bags she was forced to carry onto Henry’s counter.
He didn’t leave the door open, so it takes Henry a little longer to follow William inside. The rest of the bags are in his hands and he looks briefly annoyed, but doesn’t say anything. Henry begins putting the groceries away.
William feels awfully domestic. Like, they had just gone shopping together and now they were getting back to their home. Even though William loathes actually working, the mental image is nice. He could be Henry’s house wife!
She’s thinking about maybe getting an apron and surprising Henry someone when the man himself stops working and faces William.
“Come here?” His tone is light and unsure, like always, but that’s more than enough for William. He immediately goes to lean into Henry, doing what he always does and draping himself off of any bit of the man he can find.
And as always, Henry is strong and smells so nice. William takes his hands and leads him to the couch, where he forces Henry to sit down with him to cuddle.
“Was it really that bad?” Henry asks, holding William’s shoulders. He honestly looks like he’s on the verge of tears, which is ridiculous and once again very funny.
“Wasn’t too bad,” William concedes. He leaves out how spending the day with Henry was the only saving grace— not that Henry can’t handle it, which he can’t, but because William is tired from being dragged around all day.
Henry sighs in relief, pulling him close and petting his hair. It’s definitely meant to be a quick hug, but William won’t let him out of it that easily.
He grumpily tightens his grip on Henry when he tries moving around, leaving them both stuck on the couch.
“Will,” he says.
William smiles into Henry’s shoulder. “Can’t hear you, dear.”
“The milk’s gonna go bad,” Henry tries.
William doesn’t budge, so he settles in as best as he can. He tentatively rests his head on William’s, pulling him to his shoulder. It’s a wonderful feeling, being able to feel him like this, and William has no regrets about it.
Besides, spending time with Henry like this is worth some stupid milk going bad.