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There’s blood dripping down her leg, seeping into her jean’s fabric. Charlotte’s annoyed. Sure, she’s been in worse scenarios, but seriously, the things she does for these two idiots. One, a grown man who's indestructible, the other being her childhood best friend.
She limps her way down to Junk N’ Stuff, swinging the door open and being greeted by the dinosaur breathing fire. Her thoughts are pacing timidly, and the pain from her scraped knee didn’t really occur to her, yet, that is. The elevator chimes open, and just like every other trip down to the man cave, it is hectic and agonizing. It doesn’t help when you have an open wound, either.
“Hey Char—woah.” Henry’s eyes dot down to her obvious bloody knee. “Did the elevator do that? Man, I’ve been telling that guy since day 1 to fix it–”
“No,” Charlotte interrupts, “The rainy sidewalk did this. Why did Ray call an emergency meeting at 11 pm on a Friday night?”
“False alarm.” he sighs. “Ray thought Invisible Brad was back, for the third time, turns out Schowz just played a prank on him by tying his shoelaces together.” Henry can already see the ‘Seriously!?’ look at Charlotte's face coming.
She’s annoyed, with good reason. Running here in the middle of the night, raining outside, slipped, and now soaked with a wounded knee. All for a false alarm.’ For superheroes, they have little to no detection skills. “Great,” she exhales, “I’ll be heading home. Thanks for wasting–”
“Wait–wait, come on, let me get the first-aid kit.” The blonde beckons. “C’mon, can you walk?”
And the pain catches up to her. It burns and stings. It’s gross. Her mind these days, well, actually, ever since she started working for Captain Man ages ago, has been enveloped and overwhelmed. School assignments, College applications, Working odd hours, and jobs to help these two protect Swellview while hiding their identities. So much so she can’t even register the pain from an open-wound; moments like these make her wonder what if she never figured out if Henry was Kid Danger.
She winces at the ache, grabbing the back of her knee.
“Hey, hey.” His voice catches up to her. It was always softer when speaking to Charlotte. She noticed that detail recently and how he’s a bit rougher and louder with others. “Take it easy.” Henry loops his arm under, unintentionally holding her waist with his hand. He walks her over to the huge grey couch.
“It’s not a big deal, Hen. Everybody has scraped their knee before.” She watches as the teenager rummages for the first-aid kit and brings it back to where she’s sitting. “Seriously, I can do this at home.”
He points at her injury, “Well, this certainly won’t do. Little or not.” he kneels, rolling up her pant leg and cleaning the spot with an alcohol swab. She flinches at the cold alcohol touching her skin. “Jeez, Char. It’s not the end of the world if I’m the one treating you for once.” he laughs dryly.
In a way, Henry is right. Charlotte was always the person to treat him after missions, with her non-existent medical expertise. Schowz can recount the many times she would pace around the mancave when the two would take too long on a mission. It’s his turn to return the favor, no?
Henry smears some ointment on the area. The room is silent for a hot minute. Ray is somewhere over the rainbow, and Schowz just left. Henry can’t really remember his life before Charlotte and Jasper. They did become best friends when they were five, so there's not much to recall. It’s a blur, really. In every chapter of his life, they’ve witnessed it. In every chapter of his life, Charlotte witnessed it.
But a world without Charlotte seems dull and uninteresting. Scary, even. As much as a grump Charlotte can be, It felt like the sun only began to shine when Henry turned five and met her and Jasper. The amount of times he forgot to study, but passed the test thanks to answers? Charlotte. When he got a horrendous haircut in middle school and got picked on, someone stood by his side. Charlotte. When he started to question if maybe the emo look was for him—Charlotte was the one who talked him out of it.
It was only natural for him to return these many favors in a way that was unique to him. The charming Henry Hart, who’s so caring and protective, doesn’t realize how much he shows it. When he time-traveled for her so she could get into LIMP again, how he was always first to defend her and make sure she was alright.
These actions always flew over her head because that was just who Henry Hart was. A kind, funny, and compassionate sorta guy. But at this moment, as he bandages her knee. Her heartstrings get pulled at. What is this feeling she wants to rip out of her chest so so so badly? As his nice, oh very so nice, hands delicately wrap bandages around her knee—why is she taking note of his hands? They’re just hands!
“Annnnndd done.” The kid stands up, and Charlotte snaps back to reality.
“Thanks,” she says. “You didn’t have to.”
“My pleasure. It’s time I helped you out. You always tackle my injuries after missions.”
“Yeah,” she agrees with an awkward crack in her voice.
Henry notices the shift in her tone but doesn’t press it. Instead, he smiles and gives her a playful nudge on the shoulder, trying to lighten the mood. “Alright, you’re all patched up. Want me to walk you home? Think you’ve put up with enough shit today.”
Charlotte shakes her head, forcing a smirk to downplay the odd swirl of emotions bubbling inside her. “I’m not an invalid, Hen. I can walk on my own. Plus, the rain’s probably stopped by now.”
“It’s dark out. And I always walk you home from work.”
“Can we consider a false alarm made by a stupid shoelace prank, work?”
“Right. Ray’s the one who owes you an apology for dragging you out here for nothing. I say we raid his secret snack stash as payback.” He flashes a grin, that infuriatingly charming grin that always seems to get him out of trouble.
There’s that uncomfortable feeling again. It’s searing through her skin like flame on a kitchen burner. Seriously, out of things, she gets nervous when Henry bandages her leg? Though he did grab her waist, respectfully of course,—which is every girl’s weakness.
“Tempting.” she says, “But I think I’ll rain check.”
Henry doesn’t argue, though his expression shifts into something softer, more earnest. “Alright. But seriously, text me when you get home, okay?”
She blinks at him, taken aback by the sudden seriousness in his voice. “Uh… sure.”
“I mean it, Char,” he adds, crossing his arms like he’s preparing to argue if she so much as rolls her eyes at him. “If I don’t hear from you, I’m coming over to check.”
She stares at him for a beat, wondering when exactly Henry Hart went from her goofy best friend to someone who seemed to care this much about her well-being. It wasn’t like this was new—he’d always been protective—but tonight, something about the way he looked at her felt different. Or maybe it was just her overthinking. Yeah, that had to be it. The rain, the knee, the exhaustion—it was messing with her head.
“Okay, mom,” she teases, trying to break the tension. “I’ll text you. Promise.”
“Good.” He grabs a throw blanket from the couch and tosses it over her shoulders, ignoring her protests. “Stay warm until you head out. I’ll go grab you an umbrella.”
“Henry, I’m fine!” she calls after him, but he’s already jogging toward the supply closet. She shakes her head, a small, reluctant smile tugging at her lips. This was just Henry being Henry. That’s all.
But as she sits there, fiddling with the edge of the blanket, she can’t ignore the way her chest feels lighter, even with the ache in her knee. Maybe she wouldn’t tell him about the fluttering in her heart. Maybe she wouldn’t even let herself think too hard about it.
Because this was Henry. Her best friend. And whatever this feeling was, it was probably best left unexamined.
Right?
When Henry returns with an umbrella and a goofy grin, she decides to shove the thought aside and just be grateful for him—her annoying, dependable, and surprisingly thoughtful best friend. For now, that was enough.