Work Text:
Henry let himself into his flat quietly, trying not to let the other keys on the ring jingle as he did. It was late, and while he knew she was often a night owl, he didn’t want to disturb her if she was already asleep. The light in the entrance was off, but he could see a glow from the end of the hall. He moved silently toward the living room, pausing in the doorway and smiled fondly. The woman across the room was curled into one corner of the couch, her legs tucked up under a fuzzy blanket as she rested her head in one hand, the elbow propped on the armrest. The other held a book open on the arm rest in front of her. He watched for a moment before making his presence known, and it wasn’t hard to see that she wasn’t actually reading. Her eyelids were fluttering gently, barely open at all, and the hand holding the book was slowly slipping off the page.
It only took a couple of strides of his long legs to cross the room and crouch in front of her, catching the book as it took a tumble toward the floor. He deftly tucked a finger between the pages to hold her place as his other hand reached up to gently brush a lock of her hair off her face, lingering a bit as he unapologetically revelled in the feel of her soft skin under his fingertips.
At the feel of his touch, her lips curled into a sleep smile and her eyes slowly opened. “Mmm… you’re home.” Her voice was low and slightly rough as she blinked up at him.
He grinned. He loved that she wasn’t surprised; that she felt safe enough and knew his touch well enough to not be startled to be woken by him. “You didn’t have to wait up for me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” her smile was just a little crooked as she straightened, and her gaze dropped to where her book had been. “I was just going to read one more chapter.”
“Ah, yes, that old chestnut.” He reached for the bookmark that had fallen between her knee and the arm of the couch and slipped it between the pages of the book before handing it back to her.
“What can I say? There are some traps I will just willingly walk into over and over and never learn my lesson.”
His chuckle was deep and rumbly in his chest as he leaned forward and pressed a warm, firm kiss to her lips. “And I love that about you.”
He started to deepen the kiss, her hand coming up to cup the angle of his jaw and brush her fingers through his hair. As they touched the strands just behind his ear, he felt her hand freeze then start to retreat. Her kiss didn’t change, but it was enough of a difference to prompt him to end it earlier than he might have otherwise, leaning back and looking closely at her face.
On anyone else, he doesn’t think he would have noticed. But he has spent a lot of time studying this woman and her face, and felt he knew her so well that even her micro expressions weren’t hard to spot. Through he wasn’t sure how to interpret this one. Her smile didn’t seem to falter, but her eyes darted across his face – up to his hair, down to his mouth, and back up again – and there was an unexpected, subtle tightness at the corners of them.
“How was work?” she asked, slowly trailing her hand from his face down his shoulder and arm to rest on his forearm.
He sat back onto his heels. “Long, sweaty, and repetitive.” His tone was wry but amused.
“I can only imagine.” She squeezed his forearm through the soft fabric of his long sleeve sweater. “Are you hungry?”
“Always.” He quirked one eyebrow suggestively at her, leaning forward slightly. Her answering ring of laughter was a balm to his whole being.
“Down boy.” She moved her hand to his chest and pressed him back gently but firmly. “Why don’t you go have a shower and I’ll warm up some bed lunch for you?”
It was his turn to laugh, not resisting her pressure as he stood and reached a hand down to help her up from her little nest on the couch. “You and your bed lunch.”
“Is that a no?” her right eyebrow shot up at the same time she allowed herself to be pulled into a standing position.
“No, it’s not a no!” he hurried to assure her. He really was hungry after all. “It’s just a ridiculous name for a late-night snack.”
She deftly stepped free of the tangle of blanket at her feet and shook her head at him. “I know you, Henry. You’re going to want more than a snack after a day of shooting. Lunch is a much more accurate term.”
His mouth opened for a moment then closed it with a snap and grinned wryly at her. “Good point.” They both chuckled. “I would be grateful for a bed lunch, if you would be so kind.”
“Well, then, get your arse into the shower. The sooner you’re done, the sooner you’ll eat.” She lifted slightly up on her toes to kiss him briefly before shooing him in the direction of the bedroom and turning toward the kitchen.
“Yes Ma’am!” he answered swiftly but still watched her walk away for a moment before turning to do as directed.
He entered the bedroom, already stripping off his sweater and unbuttoning his shirt. Dropping them into the hamper, he headed straight for the shower to get the water running. This was an old building, and the shower always took a good minute or two to come up to his preferred temperature. That accomplished he turned, intending to shed the rest of his clothes and set out his towel. In doing so, he caught a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror and stopped briefly to look at his reflection.
He generally wasn’t too preoccupied with his appearance – well, not more than usual in his profession anyway. He was used to how the magic of hair, make up, and costuming could transform people and usually didn’t give it more than a passing thought. Today, for instance, he had left the filming location without bothering to do more than a quick make up removal. He could still see traces of the heavy foundation around his hairline. And his hair… still made him chuckle. It was straightened, sprayed, and waxed within an inch of its life so that it would stand stiff and straight up from his scalp. It was almost cartoonish. He reached up and poked at it – it barely moved under his fingers before springing straight back up – then he turned away to continue undressing.
In the shower, as he stood under the hot spray and scrubbed at his hair, he couldn’t help think about her and her reaction to his kiss earlier. He quickly dismissed his unsettled and confused thoughts as ridiculous and paranoid. He was imagining the weird feeling; it was just that she’d been half asleep, not that she didn’t want to kiss him. He was reading too much into a touch and a movement of her eyes. He needed to get a hold of himself. He mentally, and literally, shook his head then tilted back to rinse his hair.
A few minutes later, in fresh pajama pants and still toweling off his hair, he headed back toward the kitchen.
“Something smells great.” He said, draping the damp towel over the back of one of the stools at the counter.
She turned at the sound of his voice and her face lit up at the sight of him. “There you are!”
It was her turn to stop and look him over. Her gaze traveled from his damp curls down to his bare feet and back up to his hair. She wiped her hands on a towel and dropped it on the counter next to the stove, then she took two long steps and flung her arms around his neck, pulling him down to meet her kiss.
His arms were immediately around her, feeling her softness as he pulled her closer. One broad hand splayed between her shoulder blades, the other stroking down to grip at her hip. She tilted her head to deepen the kiss and her hands both traveled up the sides of his neck to tangle in his curls, pulling gently.
A few long, breathless moments later, she broke the kiss and leaned back far enough to get a good look at his face. Her grip on his hair loosened, and she shifted to running her fingers through his dark, thick curls, brushing them back away from his face. He looked at her with a questioning look on his face.
It prompted a slightly sheepish chuckle and a flush across her cheeks. “I…” She trailed one hand from his hair down to rest on his chest, thumb stroking back and forth unconsciously. “I like it when you look like, well, you.”
“What?” Both his arms were now loosely around her waist as he looked down at her with both amusement and confusion on his face.
“Sometimes you come home still… wearing your character. I mean, I know it’s you and that it’s just makeup or weird hair, but…” she ducked her head and started to pull away, but he immediately tightened his arms around her.
“Thank you.” He said simply, but before she could say anything, he hurried on. “I mean it. Thank you for telling me, I’ll try to leave them behind more before I come home. And, more importantly, thank you for knowing the difference and seeing the real me. I love you.”
It wasn’t the first time he’d said those words to her, and it definitely wouldn’t be the last, but the rightness of them still resonated through him as he said them. And was amplified a thousand-fold when he heard her response.
“And I love you. Now come, eat your bed lunch.”