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Travelling with a child was never easy. Henry knew this. He was completely aware of the difficulty that came with ensuring he’d packed every single essential needed when crossing an ocean with a four year old. He’d made endless mental, and physical, notes of all the important steps to be taken before they boarded the plane. He’d been doing this long enough. He can get through this flight with his child, the same way he had done with her at least 6 times before this.
What he hadn’t accounted for was his child turning an uneventful journey home, into something Henry doubts he’ll ever find the words for, despite his English Literature degree.
Henry dragged his beagle suitcase, matching little Estella’s beagle backpack that rested on the frame of her petite shoulders, across the airport floor, rushing because Henry also hadn’t taken into consideration him spilling his tea down his sweater vest at breakfast with his mum and sister earlier that morning, and having to change into a sage green knitted jumper instead.
And of course, because he was no longer wearing sky blue, Estella now had to have her Aunt Bea help her put on her pretty green cardigan instead of the blue one she’d previously had on.
“Little Love, we’ve got a plane to catch, we don't have time.”
“But Daddy and Ella always be same, Daddy.”
And how, with any sanity in his bones, could Henry ever resist those pouty lips and round eyes?
So they’d run through the hustle and bustle of people all lost in worlds of their own. ‘Run’ in this context meant a gentle jog, hand-in-hand going at a speed suitable for Ella’s tiny feet. That is until Henry looks at his watch and sees that they are in fact, later than he’d suspected.
In a movement swifter than seems possible, Henry gets a few steps ahead of his daughter, crouches down in front of her, calls out for her to “hop on” and then holds her atop his broad shoulders, rising back to his feet. His left arm crosses his chest to place his palm to her right thigh and keep her in place, his right preoccupied pulling his suitcase.
“Da-Daddy,” she giggles, her blonde ponytail swishing from side to side as Henry begins to pick up the pace. His calves are burning, shoulder blades straining with the weight of his four year old, the counters of her shoes knocking into his chest and she swings her legs back and forth. His muscles are on fire, but her bursts of laughter as her tiny fingers find home in his golden waves make the running late and impromptu workout so worth it.
They make it to the plane in time.
“Thank Christ,” Henry sighs aloud, as he slides into his seat after ensuring Estella and Orion, her fox plushie, were comfortable in theirs.
“Thank C-cwist,” she attempts to repeat, followed by an exaggerated sigh and a small giggle, that positively melts her dad’s heart.
Henry leans down to press his lips to the top of her head, whispering an “I love you, Little One.”
“Loves you too, Daddy.”
An hour of the flight passed peacefully, Estella pointing to pictures in her favourite book, ‘The Prince of the people’s hearts,’ as Henry retells the story, not needing to even look at the words. Once they make it to the end, Ella politely places her hand over her mouth to yawn, “pa-p- what m’supposed say, Daddy?”
“Pardon me, Sweetheart.”
“P-pa’on me.”
“Why don’t you try to sleep whilst Daddy gets some work done, Little Love?”
Henry pats his forearm once his laptop is comfortably and securely placed in his lap, indicating for Estella to rest her head against him. As soon as he feels the weight of her pressed to his arm, his fingers begin typing away, mind lost in an endless hurry of thoughts.
Henry finds himself in a heavy flow of ideas, words tying together as if bound by thread, inspiration crawling out of the trees from the woods of his mind. He regularly struggles to get into the correct headspace, to worm his way out of the writer's block he so often finds himself buried in but when these spurts of poetic genius hit him, Henry is prone to forgetting how the concept of time works. What feels to him like hours of hard graft seem to only be a mere 30 minutes.
It’s horrifically deceiving.
A gentle squeeze to his forearm is what breaks him from his flow, his eyes briefly looking at the time displayed on his MacBook, wondering why on earth his daughter had only slept for 45 minutes.
“Dada, Daddy,” she half whispers, her voice still laced with exhaustion.
“Yes, darling? Everything okay?”
“Soft, Daddy. So soft.”
“What’s that, my Ella?”
She often does this. Says things Henry doesn’t quite understand the meaning of. There have been a handful of situations in which he had no choice but to act like he’s following along, when deep down he’d had no clue what she’s telling him. He briefly wonders if this will be one of those times.
“Soft leg Daddy,” Estella is contorting her body as she speaks, turning just so she can press her head against the seat and peek through the gap between her chair and Henry’s, looking at the passengers behind. Just as Henry begins to follow her actions, hoping to work out what she’s trying to explain, she bursts out into a fit of giggles, not once turning back to look at her dad.
“It’s hair, Daddy. Soft, soft hair.”
Once his face is squished against the seats in a similar manner to his daughters, and he tracks where her hand is reaching out and… Playing with the stranger’s leg hair behind them. He immediately feels his entire body heat up in embarrassment.
Henry has never been more mortified in his life.
“Estella, you can’t just tou-”
There’s a low chuckle that seemingly escapes the lips of the man whose leg hair Ella has just been twisting between her fingers.
“It's okay, don’t worry about it. It’s been keeping her entertained for the last half an hour or so.”
“Little Love,” Henry sighs out, wrapping his hand around her wrist and gently pulling her hand away from the stranger’s leg.
“But Daddy, felt nice. Was soft.” She’s rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn as her hand falls away.
“Well, I’m glad somebody appreciates the time and effort I take in exfoliating and moisturising my body,” the voice laughs out playfully. The man is American, and from Henry’s little knowledge the accent sounds southern, and like it belongs to someone around his age.
Shit, he’d be so focused on the calming sound of said voice that he hadn’t apologised for Ella’s actions. He swings his entire body over to the other side of his seat, mile-long legs hanging in the middle aisle, so he can properly lean over and say sorry to the man’s face.
“S-sorry about tha-”
The words die on his tongue.
Henry has never seen a man so gorgeous in all his years of living.
Behind him sits a man with a head of perfectly curled locks, that rest effortlessly across his forehead. His skin is golden, and Henry’s almost 98% sure it’s glowing, radiating a light like the fucking sun. His eyes are pools of warm honey, soft and inviting, framed by lashes, thick and long.
Fucking eyelashes.
For half a second Henry is oblivious to the unnecessarily long arm being extended his way, a hand being held out waiting to be shook. He inwardly curses himself as he reaches out to shake Adonis' hand, knowing he’s making himself look like an utter fool, or worse , like he’s in love.
“I’m Alex,” the stranger prompts, charming smile plastered across his ethereal face, dimples indenting either side of said smile.
Can Henry really be blamed for practically blue screening, stuttering out an, “I-I’m-”
“Daddy, your name is Henny,” Ella giggles from where she’s now stood on her seat, her body twisted so she can also see the face of the man whose leg she was stroking all of five minutes ago.
“Henry,” Henry repeats with a polite nod at the same time that his daughter gasps, and then loudly whispers, “It’s Prince Naveen, or or or Flynn Rider! He’s so had- hads- Daddy, what’s Mr Darcy, you said last time, like pretty for a boy?”
Laughter erupts from Alex’s chest, head tilted back, curls dancing with the movement of his shoulders. Henry’s face reddens. He bites the inside of his cheek, attempting to swallow down the embarrassment, and extinguish the fire burning in his gut. He clears his throat, musters every ounce of nonchalance he can find in his body to make his voice not quiver.
“Handsome, love. I called Mr Darcy handsome.”
Fuck, this is so humiliating.
Alex flashes Henry a lethal smirk, before turning his head in Estella’s direction. Her face is beaming, the apples of her cheeks rosy, round and high, squishing into her under eyes. Henry didn’t think it was possible, but her smile widens when Alex presents her with his hand, extended in the same way he had done with Henry, and lets his accent wrap around the words, “and what’s your name, princess?”
Henry’s heart melts into a puddle in his chest seeing the way his daughter outwardly vibrates in her skin as she reaches out to take the offer of Alex’s handshake. She lets out a little cough, a telltale sign to Henry that she’s going to put on her ‘big girl voice’, saved for conversations with people she is trying to impress.
“M’Estella. Daddy said it’s ‘cause I’m his star,” she shrugs her shoulders as though she doesn't understand what she just said but knows it's the correct thing to say anyway.
“You are my star, little love. Now, come on, we’ve still got a few more hours ‘til we’re home. How about you sit down and get your colouring book out, sweetheart?”
“But Dada, m’talking to Mr. Alex.”
“Estella,” his dad voice is coming out, firm but still intertwined with nothing but love, “Mr. Alex probably wants to rest. Come on, love.”
Alex snorts playfully, “Rest? Never heard of him.” Henry can’t help the way the corners of his lips turn up at Alex’s comment, “And anyway, I was very much enjoying getting to know Princess Estella here, Mr. Henny.”
Henry’s eyes flick between his daughter and the unfairly attractive man behind them. They're sporting matching jutted out bottom lips, wide pleading eyes (one set of warm brown and the other ocean blue) and fluttering lashes.
How is this fair?
Oh, Henry’s heart is so fucking weak.
With a sigh of surrender, Henry picks his daughter up, moves himself into her seat and places her down in his so she’s able to talk to Alex easier. She immediately stands again, her eyes fixated on Alex in fascination as he balls his fist up, raises it to the ceiling and pulls it into his chest dramatically with a ‘yesssss’ escaping his lips. That pulls a laugh from deep inside her as she excitedly taps Henry’s arm.
“Daddy, watch, watch, watch,” And then, with every ounce of concentration and effort Henry has ever seen from his four year old, she mirrors Alex’s celebratory move. Henry rolls his eyes affectionately, ignoring the pitter patter of his heart that’s only grown louder with each interaction between Alex and Ella.
“Darling, I’m gonna carry on working on my laptop, okay? I’m right here. Once you’re done talking with Mr. Alex you can have a snack and get your colouring out, yeah?”
“Jaffa cakes? Could I have them now, please?” she asks, eyes twinkling in a way that makes her name suit her that much more.
“Yes sweetheart, they’re in you backpa-”
“S-sorry to interrupt,” Alex sounds sheepish for the first time since their meeting, “what’s a Jabba cake?”
Estella clutches her stomach, bows her head forward and lets out a laughter Henry has rarely heard come from her. Her head flicks back, golden ponytail only just avoiding smacking Henry in his face. She throws her hands up animatedly, nose scrunched in feign disgust, struggling through her giggles to get her words out.
“Ja-jaffa cakes Mr. ‘Lex. Not- not J-jabba cakes.”
And then she bursts into another fit of laughter.
Henry finds himself biting his bottom lip to suppress a giggle of his own as he leans down to grab at Ella’s backpack, popping it into the space between their seats. He unzips the bag, taking out the squashed blue box, and handing it to his daughter with a, “here you go, sweet,” before his eyes track back to his laptop, not giving his train of thought time to go off track.
Estella’s clumsy fingers fumble with the packet, but Henry knows better than to help. She was much like him in that sense, always wanting to be independent, not calling upon help until it felt absolutely necessary.
It takes her a few attempts, and a vigorous shake of her head when Alex offers to assist, but eventually Ella discards some of the excess packaging into her bag and wordlessly hands her dad one of the Jaffa cakes. Henry hums out a “thank you, little love,” turning to press his lips to her knuckles as he takes it from her.
“Mr. Alex,” she does her best to keep her voice quiet as she regains his attention, “Daddy says sharin’ is carin’, but we only share Jaffa cakes with ‘pecial people.” She holds out a Jaffa cake in his direction, the length of her arm causing Alex to lean forward and take it from her.
“You must be special, Mr. Alex,” Henry calls out, without turning back to face the man he’s speaking to.
“You are spec- Mr. Alex, your cheeks are red!!” She is trying to turn the volume down on her voice but she can’t help it, “that happens to Daddy when he shy.”
“M’not shy, Princess Estella. Just a little hot and bothered.”
Alex plops the Jaffa cake into his mouth whole, trying to hide his grimace as he chews. There’s no way he can break this adorable girl’s heart, or her father’s, by announcing that chocolate and orange should never go together. Instead, he distracts himself from the awful taste by making conversation with the little girl, doing his best not to spew crumbs of Jaffa cake in her direction as he speaks.
“You going on holiday, Estella?” He asks, forcefully trying to swallow the mouthful of horror that seems to be taking more chewing than necessary.
“No, Mr. Alex. We just came for a visage–”
“A visit, darling,” Henry calls out, his eyes still glued to his laptop screen, fingers tapping away.
“A visit. To see Aunty Bea and Nana Cat. We didn’t get to see Uncle Pip and Aunty Martha, even though I really wanted to play with James and Harriet. But now we’re going back home.” The elongation of the word ‘really’ and the erratic movements of her hands were enough to make even the most emotionless person’s heart turn to a puddle.
“And and and,” she continues, hands gestures becoming more rapid, which makes Alex chuckle with how much it reminds him of himself, “David is waiting for us!”
Oh.
David.
“He’s the best. He’s so good at cuddles with me and Daddy. And he’s been home all by his own.” Her tiny arms fly in the air, shoulders shrugging animatedly as her eyes go wide and expressive.
Cuddles . With David .
Alex, too lost in mentally hitting himself for thinking he could possibly have a chance with Henry, doesn’t respond to Estella’s ramble. And so, she continues.
“I missed him so much but— but I think Daddy missed him even more.”
Henry finally breaks the intense eye contact he was making with his laptop to turn to his daughter, the most endearing smile etched on his face, “I’ve definitely been missing him a lot, darling.”
Swallowing down the bile of disappointment that rises in his throat, Alex plasters on his most encouraging look of excitement to hear all about this ‘David’ .
“Daddy, please can I show Mr. Alex pictures of Davey, please please plea-”
As Henry slides his phone out and begins tapping away at its screen, Ella’s eyes sparkling with clear pride at getting to show off the photos, Alex mentally prepares himself to see a man almost as gorgeous as Henry with his arms encompassing both blondes, a depiction of pure happiness.
What Alex definitely doesn’t expect is to having Estella’s arm extended, phone tightly grasped between her tiny hands, the screen lit up with the image of a younger Ella perched on one of her father’s knees, the two of them sporting almost identical grins, wearing candy cane pyjamas that not only match each other but also the outfit of the tiny beagle resting its sleepy head against Henry’s other knee.
“It's our baby Davey,” she squeals, pointing delightedly at the dog, accidentally zooming into him with her excited fingers pressing against the phone screen.
“Ah, David is a dog.” Alex doesn’t mean to sound so relieved with the new-found knowledge but it’s evident to him that it comes out clear as day when Henry snorts quietly at his response to Estella’s confirmation.
“He’s a beagle, Mr. Alex, and he’s just the most cutest ever!” Her fingers swipe to the next picture, her eyes carefully trained on the way another photo of David appears, her gummy teeth fully exposed, joy brimming in her eyes.
This one however, is just of Henry and David, sitting on a patch of grass as Henry rubs the underside of the beagle’s chin. Henry looks ethereal, blonde hair perfectly in place, lips parted and pulled wide, his eyes scrunched and small with what appears to be immense amounts of love. It’s clear Henry’s oblivious to the photograph being taken, gaze fixated on David, looking so peaceful, sat in what appears to be his loungewear, bare feet tickled by the grass below.
Alex is silently grateful for Ella not pointing out the reddening of his complexion this time. Alex feels it creep up his neck, slightly burning his skin in its wake. He can’t help the way his ears feel as if they’re on fire, the very tips of them about to singe the curls that brush against them.
Henry just looks really soft and cute in this picture, okay. Sue him.
“Aunty Bea took this one. Daddy said I wasn’t born. Davey was just a puppy!” Her excitement hasn’t tampered down, her frantic movements catching the attention of the elderly lady sat beside Henry.
“He looks super cute,” Alex half whispers, voiced laced with sincerity. Whether he’s talking about the beagle or its owner, however, is between himself and nobody else.
The tap, tap, tap of Henry’s fingers against his keyboard stops for a moment, the rhythm of his thoughts seeming to come to a brief halt and to the right of him, he hears a small chuckle escape the lips of the lady who appears to have taken an interest in the entire interaction.
“Apologies if I’m seeming nosey but I couldn’t help noticing poor, young Estella here having to stand on her seat to speak to the very handsome gentleman behind us.” Her voice is gentle and her eyes kind in the way they address Ella.
“If you'd like, I could switch places so that he can come and sit in your row. Would you like that, dear?” Her eyes momentarily flicker to Henry’s, sending a quick wink in his direction before looking back at Estella, making her question seem pointed at the little girl.
“Oh, no that won’t be—”
“Daddy, pleaseeeee.”
Oh, Henry needs to learn to stop falling subject to those soft, pleading eyes and that impossible to ignore tone of voice. He can't help but be wrapped around his daughter’s tiny pinky. He’d go to the moon and collect her a star if she asked, she was his star after all.
Henry presses his lips to his daughter’s forehead before turning to the lady who’s looking with the fondest expression, “I’m so sorry if this is inconvenient for you–”
“Oh, not at all. I’ll just-” and then she’s standing, gesturing for Henry to slide himself out so she can make her way into the aisle, and then Alex’s seat. Henry scoops Ella into his arms, shuffles down so he’s now sitting by the window, and then deposits his daughter into the middle seat.
“What do we say to Mrs…”
“Dorothy,” the lady smiles.
“Mrs Dorothy, Estella?”
“Thank you so very much, Mrs Dorothy,” the excitement still engulfing her words as Alex places his backpack in the cabin above his new seat.
As he goes to sit down, Ella grabs hold of his arm, effectively stopping him in his tracks. Henry’s eyes track the way her tiny fingers barely wrap around a half of Alex’s upper arm. He briefly wonders how many times Alex must work out in a week to maintain such gorgeously toned and strong muscles, before he’s quickly snapped back into the reality of needing to tell his daughter that much like she can’t just caress a stranger’s leg hair, she also shouldn't be grabbing hold of their arms. No matter how unfairly attractive they are.
“Darling let go of–”
“Mr. Alex, you're going to squish Orion.”
Alex’s eyes follow Ella’s, both of them looking down into the seat he was just about to accommodate. “Ah, I’m so sorry. I mustn't have seen him there, because he’s so small,” Alex picks up the fox plushie and boops its nose against Estella’s, “just like you.”
“I’m not that small,” she responds, reaching out to take Orion from Alex’s grasp. “Thank you for not sitting on him. You’re too big. He would’ve been died.”
Henry can’t help the snort that forces its way out of him.
Alex shoots him playful daggers.
Henry's heart falls out his arse.
Lowering himself into the seat, Alex tilts his head towards the tiny blonde sitting beside him, his smile stretching from ear to ear, “oh, we definitely don’t want that. Orion is far too cute to be squashed to death by my as– butt, to be squashed by my butt.”
Ella snuggles Orion up to her chest, squeezing him tight. “Grandpop Art buyed him for Daddy when he was a baby. Daddy gave him to me when I was a baby. He’s super special, Mr. Alex.”
Henry swallows down the lump in his throat and forces back the tears filling his waterline at the mention of his father.
“That’s wonderful Estella, he definitely is special.”
Ella, completely oblivious to the emotion she’s just filled her father’s heart with, completely loses track of the conversation about Orion and begins pulling out her colouring book and felt tip pens from her bag.
“You’re going to help me finish my colouring whilst daddy does his laptop work, Mr. Alex.” It's not a question, but an order.
Alex chuckles, “of course, lovely.”
Henry’s gaze occasionally wanders from his screen to his daughter beside him, who’s doing her best to stay in the lines of the flower she’s colouring whilst simultaneously telling Alex all about her favourite movie, Gnomeo and Juliet .
“I’ve never seen it before, but after your amazing review of it, I will certainly be watching it soon.”
“Daddy, did you hear that,” disapproval coating her words, “Mr. Alex has never ever watched Gnomeo and Juliet.”
“Yes I heard, darling, but that’s okay. You may have never watched whatever Mr. Alex's favourite is.” She ponders over her father’s response before sighing wholeheartedly.
“I bet I have,” she grumbles, only loud enough for Henry and Alex to hear.
“Well, my absolute number one top film has got to be Star Wars, Empire Strikes Back–”
Ella begins to excitedly flail her arms about, Orion almost toppling off her lap with all the commotion. “I haven’t watched that but Daddy loves Star Wars lots and lots.” She nudges Henry’s side with her elbow to get his attention, as if he hadn’t already been completely captivated by the entire interaction going on between his daughter and Alex.
“I do, little love. Although Mr. Alex is terribly mistaken with which is the best one,” he teases.
Alex’s eyebrows shoot to the top of his head before he squints his eyes in feigned disgust. “Who made you Chief Decider of all things Star Wars?”
Henry chokes out a laugh and rolls his eyes before explaining to Alex that Return of the Jedi is far superior, only to be cut off by his daughter exaggeratedly yawning, “boringgggg. Pick a different one, Mr. Alex?”
Both men are more than amused by Ella’s truthfulness in being tired of their disagreement.
“Hmmm, I’m not sure if you'll have watched these either, but the James Bond films are also some of my favourites.” Alex leans his body closer to Estella and Henry, covering one side of his face with his hand as if he’s about to share the secrets of the earth with them. He whispers theatrically, “I’ve always had a crush on the 1980s Bond actor,” and then presses his index finger to his lips, shushing Ella and her father.
Henry’s eyes go comically wide at the same time his daughter jumps in her seat, excitement overflowing from her tiny body as she chants repeatedly, “Grandpop Art, Grandpop Art, Grandpop Art.”
“Aw, is your Grandpa a fan of James Bond too?”
“Mr. Alex, don’t be silly. Grandpop Art was James Bond.” And she says it like it's common knowledge, like everybody who looks at her should, by default, know that her Grandfather was James Bond .
It would be laughable to see the way Alex’s entire face drops at the news that he’s sat on a flight with the son and granddaughter of beloved film and stage actor, Arthur Fox, but Henry finds his laughter trapped in his throat with the way Alex is staring into his soul. Brown eyes bore into blue ones, and Alex’s expression morphs from utter shock into deep thought. He gazes at Henry, cocking his head to the side and squinting slightly, as if analyzing each cell in Henry’s body.
“I see it now, how could I not? You look very similar to him.”
That catches Henry off-guard. He rarely hears people, except his family, talk about his father anymore. To hear from a stranger that he looks like him, well that almost sends Henry into a spiral. He forces out a polite yet quiet ‘thank you’, unable to look up from where his eyes have fallen to his hands in his lap, mindlessly tapping against his laptop before closing it and placing it back in his bag just to give him something to do.
Alex must sense the air of sadness that's come with his comment, his brain wracking ways to make things cheerful again, mentally cursing himself for not thinking about the fact that Arhtur Fox died back in 2015 and how insensitive his remark was.
In typical Alex style, his mouth blurts out before his brain can stop him, “I think that means I automatically have a crush on you.” He shrugs his shoulders just to seem nonchalant about what he’d said, but Alex feels his stomach flip at the way Henry’s pale complexion slowly becomes pink, the pretty colour creeping up his neck and to his ears.
Henry’s mouth opens, closes and then opens again, as if he’s imitating a fish, and he can’t begin to comprehend how stupid he must look because his mind is too preoccupied formulating a response. Instead of hearing words come from his own mouth, he finds Estella filling the silence, and for a brief moment Henry thinks about buying her anything in the world that she wants, for saving him from the horrors of having lost his ability to speak. That is until he hears what it is that she’s saying, and suddenly he’s back to wanting the aeroplane window to open so he can throw himself out of it.
“A crush on Daddy?Llike you love him? Aunt Bea always says I need two daddies to make Daddy happy. Can you be my number two daddy, Mr. Alex. I like you.”
“Darling that’s not–”
“Oh, I didn’t mean–”
“You’d be a cool daddy, Mr. Alex.”
That throws them both off, and they’re left in another bubble of awkward silence that’s only popped when Estella yawns again. This one’s real, and has her eyes brimming with water that she’s rapidly trying to blink away.
“Someone’s tired,” Alex sing-songs, hoping the earlier conversation can be swept swiftly under the carpet.
“M’not. M’w-wide awa–” her point is completely undermined by another yawn, her little limbs stretching and her body contorting to lay her head on her father’s lap. Henry’s fingers find home in her golden locks, and the soothing patterns he draws on her scalp work in putting her to sleep almost immediately.
“All that talking tired her out,” Alex laughs, looking down at Ella who’s curled into herself, Orion tucked safely in her arms, one hand resting on her father’s knee as her chest rises and falls peacefully.
Henry smiles at him fondly, “unlike her father, she’s a very sociable little girl. I think she gets it from my sister.”
“Aunt Bea?” Alex asks, like he’s fully acquainted with Henry’s entire family after speaking to his daughter for a couple of hours.
“Yes. She’s,” he hesitates, questioning whether he should be sharing this much with someone who is still a stranger despite feeling so drawn and connected to Alex. “She was with me through everything with Estella, from picking her up at the adoption home when she was just two weeks old, to all the nappies, wiening, sleepless nights. Bea was there for everything before I moved to the US, so Ella’s picked up a lot of her more extroverted traits from her.”
When Alex doesn’t respond immediately, Henry figures it's the whole adoption thing, so he opts to just tell Alex himself without the uncomfortable questioning.
“She’s not biologically mine–”
“Oh, that's not- I’m sorry–” Alex looks genuinely guilty for something he didn’t even do and it breaks Henry’s heart a little.
“It’s okay. I’m gay and have always wanted a child of my own. So even though she’s not biologically mine, I’d like to think she’s the closest thing I could get to that.”
“I would never have known, you know. Not that you’re gay– Not that that’s overly obvious either, except the Mr. Darcy thing. Shit, I’m rambling. I just meant that I wouldn’t have known she’s not biologically yours,” Alex takes a deep breath. “I’ve only seen a handful of hours but I can tell you’re doing a wonderful job as her father.”
A spark courses through Henry’s veins when Alex comfortingly places his palm over Henry’s hand for a split second. The touch melts Henry from the inside out. Estella must sense whatever warmth has spread between her father and Alex because she tosses in her sleep, rolling over and stretching her legs out, resting them on Alex’s thigh.
“Oh, I’m sor–”
“Dont worry about it, sweetheart. She’s comfortable, that's what matters.”
Henry’s ears burn and are definitely beet-red. If Alex asks, he’ll blame it on the embarrassment from his daughter spreading her legs on a stranger. He definitely won’t mention that Alex calling him ‘sweetheart’ may have just made his heart stutter in his chest, and is the reason he’s morphing into a tomato.
For the rest of the flight they exchange stories of their childhoods, jobs and families. Henry learns that Alex is a child of divorce, and also has an older sister June, who Alex is convinced would make good friends with Henry for their similarities.
Henry tells Alex all about how his father’s death affected their close-knit family and tore them apart. He retells the story of his move to America, the need to get Estella as far away from his witch of a Grandmother as he possibly could. Alex voices his disgust and hate for Henry’s Grandmother with a confidence that makes Henry giggles. In exchange, Alex offloads the trauma of growing up with parents who couldn’t be alone for more than five minutes without tearing each other to pieces, and how he feels that fuelled his need to move from Texas.
They’re both surprised to learn they live not too far from each other in New York.
—
Ella stirs from her sleep, eyes barely open when she asks Henry, “are we home yet, Daddy?” Henry’s expression softens as he tells her, “about ten more minutes, little love,” and leans down to press his lips to her forehead. “Shall we put your colouring away because it’ll be time to go soon?”
The little girl hauls herself up slowly, looks at Alex with a slightly confused expression, before seemingly remembering who he is. “Mr. Alex! You're still here!”
Alex’s laughter bubbles out of his chest, and Henry briefly thinks about how beautiful it sounds. “Of course I am, Princess Estella, there wasn’t really anywhere for me to go.”
—
The three of them help with packing away Ella’s bits before the flight lands.
Henry holds her hand tight as the plane makes its way to the ground. Despite having travelled multiple times, it always makes her anxious, and her father is always there to protect her through the fear.
Once the wheels of the plane are on the runway, and it’s slowly coming to a halt, Alex turns to Ella, a beaming smile imprinted on his face. “It was so lovely to meet you, Princess. Give David a tickle under the chin on my behalf.”
Her eyes are drooping, sleep threatening to take her again as her father holds her, resting her head on his shoulder, but she manages to giggle out a, “thank-thank you Mr. Alex,” before her breathing evens out and she’s fast asleep again.
Both men take their luggage from the over-head cabins, and exit the plane, Alex trailing behind Henry, who’s carrying a sleeping Ella, her beagle backpack and Orion. Henry's stomach churns at the idea of having to say goodbye to Alex, which is bizarre because all of eight hours ago he was a stranger.
—
“Right, I better–”
“My sister will be here to pick me up–”
“I- sorry. Yeah, I should call a taxi to take us home.”
Henry feels like he could throw up with the way his heart is thumping against his chest. Ella’s backpack almost slips from his grasp with the way his palms are sweating, as he tries to muster up the confidence to ask Alex for his number, or at least give the man his own. The self-doubt is too loud, telling him that maybe for Alex it was just a time-pass to make his flight more bearable by chatting to someone.
“It was nice meeting you and your daughter, Henry.”
Fuck, Henry’s chance slips through his fingers as Alex put his hand up to his forehead in a salute that would’ve made Henry chuckle had it not been for the lump blocking his airways.
“L-likewise Alex. Goodbye.”
And with that Alex’s phone rings. “Yeah Bug, I’m coming out now.” He waves to Henry, phone still pressed to his ear, spins on his heels and heads out towards the airport car park. The lack of hesitation from Alex leaving convinces him that it was a one-sided attraction with a stranger he’ll never see again. That conclusion doesn’t do much to lessen the weight Henry feels pressing against his chest.
—
Later that evening, once Estella and Henry are back home after picking David up and giving him endless cuddles, Henry sends Ella to her room to change into her pyjamas. Less than a minute after sending her, he hears the gentle patter of her feet against the floor, approaching.
“Daddy, what does 718 081 1232 mean?” She reads each number slowly, making sure she’s saying them correctly. Henry, who is busy putting away bits from his suitcase, and doesn’t see what she appears to be reading from says, “I’m not too sure, darling. Why?”
“Because Daddy, this special paper was in my pocket,” she waves a little piece of paper in Henry’s face, moving it too fast for him to make out anything written on it. He holds out his palm, and she knowingly places the paper in it, curiosity painted all over her face.
“What does it mean, Daddy?”
Henry can’t help the giggle that rushes out of him once he’s able to see what’s been scribbled in a marker pen he’s sure belongs to Estella.
Henry,
Call me. 718 081 1232
From Alex :)
“It’s from Mr. Alex. He’s given me his phone number so we can talk to him again.”
Estella quite literally jumps for joy, “so Mr. Alex is going to be my new daddy. He’s funny and kind and I like his soft, hairy legs.”