Chapter Text
Henry closes his laptop and stands up, stretching backward and listening to the satisfying pops of his spine. He doesn't usually spend this much time at his desk but he’s been going over applications for the new staff positions and it took longer than he expected. He texts Alex that he’s on his way home.
Good
Dinner’s about ready
He swings his overcoat on and takes a step for the door when his desk phone rings. He reaches for it, then shakes his head. He’s here past work hours, and whatever it is probably isn’t an emergency. Still, he stares at his phone and is reaching for the handset when it stops ringing.
One more step toward the door, and his cell phone lights up.
“Fuck.”
He can’t ignore this.
“Hello, Julie.”
“Henry, hey. Sorry to call so late but you know these things never happen on a schedule.”
“I know,” he sighs. “How many and how old?”
“Just one! He’s 8. No, wait, he’s 7. His name is Max. No red flags, no health issues. Just needs a bed for the night. He’s getting transferred to the New York Home for Children but the person who was picking him up got a flat tire and they’re short-staffed as it is and I don’t have a bed for him and--”
“Julie, it’s fine. I’ve got space.” Henry steps out of his office, walks down the hall, and stops in the doorway of Cleo, the night manager. He points at his phone, then holds up one finger. “You’ll send his paperwork with him?”
“Absolutely. I’m putting him in an Uber with one of my people right now. Thank you so much, I’ll owe you one.”
Henry laughs. “I’ve lost track of how many you owe me, Julie.”
It’s not unusual for the shelters to call each other when they need temporary space. He doesn’t normally take children that young, but he can accommodate them in an emergency. He just has to make sure the staff keeps an eye on this kid.
He hangs up and gives Cleo the details. “He’s on his way over.” Henry slides open his texts and starts to tell Alex he’s going to be late. “I can stay and help him get settled--”
“Henry, go home. I’ve got this.” She stands up and shoos him toward the door. “Go have dinner with your family. I don’t need Alex coming in here and giving me the evil eye.”
Henry smiles. “Alright, if you’re sure.”
She rolls her eyes at him. “You’re not here. I can’t hear you.”
Henry heads for the door. He used to worry that people would treat him differently at his job because he was a prince. He no longer worries about that. Honestly, he’s not sure half of them remember. Or care.
It’s kind of nice.
He meets his protection officer at the door and walks home, chatting about nothing in particular. He walks in and immediately finds his arms full of a pouty, complaining child.
“Daddy, Papa won’t help me with my homework.”
“She wants me to do it for her,” Alex calls from the kitchen.
“I do not!” Ellie at least tries to look offended.
Henry kisses his daughter’s indignant face. “If you can show me you’ve tried, I’ll help you after dinner.”
Ellie smiles as he puts her down.
“Where’s--”
“Daddy!” Jamie’s voice dopplers from upstairs and down the stairwell. He nearly tackles Henry with the momentum he’s built, crashing into his legs.
Henry swings Jamie up into his arms, kisses both cheeks. “Hello!” Henry slides his hands around Jamie’s waist, starts wiggling his fingers beneath his shirt and tickling the warm skin there. “Jamie! Hold still! Why are you trying to get away? Don’t you love me?” Henry steadies Jamie with one arm while he tickles him with the other. Jamie can’t stop laughing, wriggling in his dad’s arms.
“Put me down! Put me down!” Jamie yells, laughing and gasping for air. Henry does, musses his hair, and finally gets his coat off. He strides into the kitchen to find Alex dumping pasta into a colander.
“Hello, darling.”
Alex turns his head for a kiss. “Hey, babe, how was work?”
“Fine, nothing unusual.”
“Sometimes boring is good,” Alex tells him with a smile, wiping his hands on a dishtowel.
Henry sticks a finger in the pot of spaghetti sauce and licks it off. “This is delicious, love.” He takes Alex’s hips firmly in his hands and gives him a deeper, hotter kiss. He tastes tomato and garlic, meaning Alex has been taste-testing. He tips his forehead against Alex’s. “Hello.”
Even this close, he can see the warmth and love in Alex’s eyes. “Hello.”
“Daddy!! Jamie is annoying me!”
They both laugh softly. Henry takes Alex’s hand in his. “I don’t think our lives will ever be boring, do you?”
“Hope not,” Alex says with a wink.
***********************
Henry walks into the shelter the next morning, just as the last group of kids is leaving for school. A few of the older teenagers have already graduated and either work or stay at the shelter and help out during the day. So he’s surprised to see a younger child on the sofa in the main room, watching television.
He searches his memory for the details of the phone conversation the night before.
“Good morning. Are you Max?”
The kid looks terrified, presses himself back against the couch. He has dark hair and wire glasses. He’s wearing a t-shirt that’s a little too big and dark wash jeans that seem too short. When he pulls his legs into his chest, the jeans ride up and Henry can see his bare legs above his black socks.
Henry immediately sits down in the chair next to him, making himself physically smaller. “I’m sorry if I scared you. I work here. My name is Henry.”
Max (if Henry remembers correctly), doesn’t answer, just stares.
“Have you had breakfast? I could get you something if you--”
Maybe-Max nods.
“Was it good?”
Max nods hesitantly.
Henry smiles. He looks over at the tv. “What are you watching?”
Max shrugs.
“This is the Today Show. It’s news. Do you like watching the news?”
He shrugs again.
Henry looks around. He spots the remote on the bookshelf and gives it to Max. “These red arrows are for the channel. Why don’t you find something you’d like to watch? And while you do that, I’m going to talk to my friend, and then I’ll come back to check on you. Sound good?”
Predictably, Max shrugs again. But as Henry walks away, he hears the brief bursts of noise that mean someone is changing channels.
Davina, one of the daytime managers, is just hanging up the phone when he walks into her office. “Good morning. How’s everything?”
Davina shrugs. “I’m gonna kill my wife, but that’s not your problem.”
Henry grins. Davina loves her wife but she enjoys venting to anyone who will listen. “What did she do now?”
“She invited her parents to stay with us for four weeks while they remodel their condo. I’m going to have to take up one of the beds here, because I just can’t handle them for that long. I mean, they’re sweet, but my god, they drive me over the edge.”
Henry laughs. They’ve traded in-law stories before, especially since Ellen left office and has more time to spend with her kids and grandkids. All of Henry’s employees have signed NDAs but he knows who he can and can’t trust with personal stories like that. And he trusts Davina.
“Speaking of beds, why is Max still here? That’s his name, right? I thought he was getting picked up today?”
Davina scans her desk and picks up a yellow sticky note. She walks around the desk and sticks the note on the lapel of Henry’s overcoat. He pulls it off, unnecessarily, as she tells him what it says.
“Julie called. He’s stuck here for another day or so. The children’s home is still short-staffed and they got a bunch of unexpected kids. Even if they had staff, they don’t have space for him. She said if it’s a problem she’ll find another--”
“Do we have space?” Henry interrupts softly.
“Barely, but yes.”
Henry drops his head, resigned. “This isn’t really the ideal--”
“Well, none of this is ideal for any of these kids, is it?”
Henry shakes his head. “Does he need anything?”
“He could use some clothes that fit. They must’ve pulled out whatever they had on hand, and none of it quite fits. I was going to run out and take him to Gap later today, as long as we’re covered here.”
“Thank you, Davina. I’ll keep an eye on him this morning,” Henry assures her. He’d rather do that than try to purchase clothes a 7 year old would wear. Alex takes care of most of the kids’ wardrobe, and their aunts are always sending them clothes.
Davina gives him a few other phone messages, then hands him two order forms to sign. When he’s done, he walks back into the tv room, where Max is watching Chopped.
“Ah, Chopped. Do you like to watch cooking shows?”
Max doesn’t answer. He pushes his glasses back up where they slid down his nose, then hugs his knees to his chest again.
Henry shrugs out of his coat and lets it fall over the back of the chair. He pulls out his phone and checks his work email, seeing ten things he should definitely respond to today. He shoves his phone back into his pocket. They’ll just have to wait.
The second round starts and the ingredients for the entree are jellybeans, kale, salmon, and ginger ale.
“Well, this is too easy. Obviously, they should make a salmon and jellybean salad,” Henry declares.
Max is quiet, and Henry thinks he’s still being shut out, when Max turns his head to the side. “What about the ginger ale?” he asks softly.
“They can serve it with the salad as a drink,” he states confidently. He’s watched this show with Alex and knows how it works, but he’s also learned that most children enjoy correcting adults. He’s started more than one conversation with his residents this way.
“It has to be part of the food, though,” Max says.
“Ah. Well, then. They could make a mixture of the jellybeans and ginger ale, and then pour it over the salmon.”
Max smiles, then huffs out what sounds like a laugh.
Then he giggles.
“That’s gross.”
“What? You don’t like jellybean soup?”
Max grins at him, pushes his glasses up again. “Why do you talk like that?”
Henry considers asking, “Like what?” but since the kid is acknowledging him, he decides to give him this one. “I’m British. This is how people talk in England, where I’m from.”
“What are you doing here?”
“In America? Or here at the shelter?”
“America.”
Henry quickly thinks through the real answer to that and comes up with an acceptable, short answer. “I moved here to live with the person I love, and to work here. And we got married, so now I have two kids and a husband. America is my home now.”
Max’s nose wrinkles. “You have a husband?”
Henry nods. “I do. His name is Alex.”
“You’re gay?”
Henry nods again. It’s honestly refreshing talking to people who don’t know who he is, but it does mean he has to explain some things. He’ll cut the kid some slack, he’s 7 and may have been raised in a homophobic home or--
But Max just shrugs and turns his face back to the tv.
The chefs on the show come up with better ideas than jellybean soup. Max is quiet through the rest of the episode. Henry occasionally contributes a silly idea for an ingredient but Max doesn’t respond.
After the first round of the next episode (Henry has never seen one episode air alone, it’s always a marathon,) each chef is telling stories about their inspiration for competing on the show. The second contestant starts crying after just a few words, as she explains she’s competing in honor of her father, who taught her to cook and always believed in her and passed away when she was 16--
And Max gets up and runs from the room. A door slams upstairs.
Henry huffs out a sigh, stands up, and walks back into Davina’s office. “You have his file?”