#no puppers were harmed in the making of this fic

[deathonyourtongue]

Welcome Home

Summary: Everything would be perfect, if he could just get home. Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader Word Count: 2K Warnings: Miscarriage, HEAVY angst. Please don’t read if these things trigger you in any way. A/N: This is what happens when personal boy issues, wine, and crying Henry gifs collide. I apologize in advance. The song for this one is Lovely - Billie Eilish, Khalid

“And then literally Desmond says, ‘just give him the bloody axe, he’ll do it himself!’”

You laugh at the culmination of Henry’s story, an anecdote involving a very large tree, a very nervous crew member, and a director who put more stock in his lead actor than any of the men hired to actually remove the tree from the shooting location. 

“How’s our little one?” Henry asks after a moment, his voice tender and sweet, already a doting father even though you’re only six months along. 

“She’s having a little dance party, but I think that’s due to the chocolate chip cookie I ate an hour ago,” you laugh, rubbing the belly that sprang up overnight; It seemed like only last week you still had a flat tummy.

“Well, you tell her daddy can’t wait to come home and give her and mummy so many kisses she’ll lose count.” You can hear the smile in his voice and it warms your heart, cementing Henry as the man you want to grow old with and have many more babies with. 

“Mummy misses daddy a lot. When are you coming home, babe?” You ask softly, knowing production had been plagued with delays ranging from weather to a stomach bug that had laid out half the crew and nearly all of the cast. Henry sighs thoughtfully, the sound making it clear that he too is frustrated by the schedule. 

“If all goes according to plan from here on out, I should be home next month.” It’s not ideal, especially as your pregnancy draws to a close, but it’s better than nothing. 

“I’ll be at Heathrow with bells on, and maybe your mother in tow,” you chuckle, trying to bring levity to a situation you knew was hard on both of you. An affectionate person by nature, you know it’s hard for Henry to be away from those he loves. You miss him more than words can describe and you know that him coming home will be the balm for all the aches, nausea, and trouble sleeping you’ve had since first getting the news. 

“I can’t wait to see you, love. Miss you so much. Sleep now, and I’ll text you in the morning. Love you to the moon and back, darling.” Henry’s words bring tears to your eyes, as they always do when you’re apart for an extended duration, but you manage to keep your voice even as you respond in kind, saying your own ‘I love you’s in the nick of time, hearing Henry’s name being called by production just as you finish. 

It’ll be a long month, but you know that soon enough, the man who keeps your heart will be back and you’ll be nestled in his arms, where you belong. 

            ______________________________________

You wake from a decent sleep when, after rolling over, you feel wetness coat your outer thigh. Thinking you must have been dreaming of the ocean a little too much, you feel around for the bedside light switch and turn it on, rubbing your eyes to ease the switch from the darkness. You’re really not in the mood to deal with having to change the sheets, but what meets your eyes is beyond changing. Bright crimson instantly sets off alarms, and you look down to find that the source is exactly what you were hoping it wouldn’t be. 

There’s little time to react as a bolt of pain ricochets through your entire torso, emanating from your womb and immediately making you want to vomit. You manage to reach for the phone and call for an ambulance, but make it clear they may have to break down the door to get to you. For once, you’re grateful that Henry takes Kal with him whenever he goes to shoot, as the dog would hinder more than help as you pull together all your strength to try and stand. 

The room spins violently and you manage to grab onto the doorframe before your knees turn to jello. Taking several deep breaths, you wait for the wave of nausea to pass before dragging yourself to the staircase. Crumpling at the top of the stairs, you breathe slowly before moving down like a child pretending to be on a slide. You’re out of breath from pain by the time you get to the bottom and it takes the last of your energy to reach up and unlock the front door. Cell phone gripped tightly in hand, you do your best to stay awake, hearing the sirens in the distance. 

Though you have no memory of arriving at the hospital, one directive repeats in your head like a marching order, and you make sure to tell every doctor or nurse that comes into your triage room that under no circumstances do you want anyone to be contacted, especially the father of your baby or his family. The staff at the Royal find the request odd, but because you’re awake and alert, they have no choice but to heed your wishes. With your own family an ocean away, your request leaves you no choice but to go through the ordeal alone. All the better, you think, guilt already forming as the doctor breaks the bad news.

Your world is overturned in a matter of hours. They put you on Oxytocin, and pain the likes of which you wouldn’t wish on your worst enemy is your sole companion for the next several hours as you’re induced for a birth you’ll never be able to celebrate. When all is said and done, the nurses ask if you want to hold your baby, and against your better judgment, you say yes.

Seeing her perfect, peaceful face breaks you. 

          ______________________________________

A month and a half to the date of the phone call, Henry arrives at Heathrow to find, much to his confusion, only his mother waiting for him. He greets her warmly, but his eyes scan the arrival area, hoping that you’d maybe just run off to use the restroom. When he finds no indication of your presence, his attention turns back to his mother. 

“Where is she, mum?” He asks, unable to piece together why you aren’t there, in his arms, where you promised you would be. Henry’s mother looks anywhere but at her son, unable to find a way to explain that everything he knew and was expecting had irrevocably changed. 

“She couldn’t make it on account of the...I’ll take you to her, son.” 

Henry tries not to let his imagination run wild as his mother drives north, past the home he shares with you. When the car crosses into Mayfair, Henry begins to panic. “Mum…” His tone is low, distrusting, frightened. His mother’s hand is clammy as it finds his, squeezing in a way that’s meant to be supportive, but only fuels his anxiety. 

He begins to visibly tremble when the engine cuts off in front of Nightingale Hospital. “Please tell me what’s going on. Why are we here? What happened? Mum, please.” His whispered appeal breaks his mother’s heart and she cups his face, willing herself not to shed tears yet again, for her son’s sake. 

“I’m sorry, Henry, love. I’m so sorry, my darling.” The explanation sticks in her throat, allowing only platitudes to escape and leaving Henry with no choice but to fly from the car and into the private hospital. 

The receptionist looks shocked when she recognizes him and forgets her job for a moment when he asks for your room number. “The last name is Cavill. Please, hurry. I need to see her.” When it’s explained that patients aren’t generally allowed visitors, Henry nearly begins foaming at the mouth, feeling as though he’s losing his own mind. He asks to speak to the doctor in charge, and before long is ushered into an office and poured a cup of tea, the banal formality only serving to anger him more. 

“Why is my wife in this godforsaken place?” He barks at the doctor the moment the door is closed, wanting answers and wanting them immediately. The doctor takes a seat, his expression sympathetic. 

“Mr. Cavill, I apologize that we weren’t able to reach you, but your wife, before taking a turn for the worse, made it explicitly clear that we were not to contact you. At this time, given that she can no longer make those sorts of decisions, her instructions fall back to you as her power of attorney.” The doctor takes a deep breath, knowing that what he’s about to say will break the man in front of him. 

“Your wife had a late-term miscarriage about a month and a half ago. It was exceedingly traumatic for her, especially as the common procedure for dealing with these sorts of things is to induce and force labor. Your wife went through all of that trauma alone, by her own choice, as she was repeatedly asked if you were to be contacted. It took several hours for her to deliver your child, and holding the baby afterward put her in a severe downward spiral in terms of her mental health. She’s been residing with us since her delivery and I’m sorry to say, but as of late, she’s been in a catatonic state, giving us minimal responses. At this stage, we’re simply providing palliative care to your wife. Unfortunately, many in her condition never recover, so we do our best to keep her comfortable, healthy, and calm.” 

Henry keeps his mouth pressed firmly closed in order not to scream. Blowing air through his nose, he forces himself to bite his tongue until it bleeds, chest heaving as he fights for control. If he can’t keep it together, he can’t see you and that’s all that matters to him at this point. 

“May I see my wife? I’ve been overseas for the last six months, shooting a film. I w-was expecting her at the airport.” His voice sounds wrong to him, pinched and tinny. He knows he has tears in his eyes as the doctor is blurry, but he refuses to let them fall, his need to be strong for you taking over any allowance for grieving. 

“I’ve been told she’s not having a good day today, so if she refuses to look at you, to let you touch her, to make any form of response, please do not think it your doing. It’s the nature of her condition,” the doctor warns as he approaches your room. 

It’s all Henry can do not to break down right there and then, the heels of his palms pressing hard into his eyes, teeth clenched as he tries to remember how to breathe. The woman in the bed, staring passively through him isn’t the woman he loves, the one he would die for. That woman is gone, replaced with a cheap, emotionless facsimile that breaks him even more. Resting his hands on his knees, he tries to catch his breath, wishing he’d come home sooner.

            ______________________________________

By the time he’s back in his mother’s car, Henry’s numb to everything but the pain searing through his chest, “Take me home, mum. Please,” he murmurs, Henry’s head lolling onto the window for the duration of the drive back to your former home. He refuses to allow his mother in the house, pleading with her to go home and wait for his call.  She takes Kal with her, knowing her son well enough to understand that he needs to grieve in his own way. 

Henry’s not ready for the blood, having assumed that someone would have cleaned it up by now, but the Hansel and Gretel trail is hard to miss and with leaden steps, he moves upstairs.

Left in the exact condition it was last used in, the room you two shared leaves no question of what happened and what you went through, alone. His knees give out as he takes in the sheer quantity of blood on the bed, Henry guilt-ridden that he wasn’t there for you when you needed him most. 

Finally freed of any need to save face or be strong for others, Henry screams from the depths of his shattered soul, the sound unbroken until anguish consumes his voice and tears flood his face. Finding his feet, Henry staggers to the bed and curls up around the remnants of his previous life, wailing over the permanent reminder of what almost was.

[lacewrites]

LOST DOG - tom holland imagine

Your dog disappeared after a rushed morning and you’ve been wandering the streets of the outside boroughs of london for a few days with your friend by your side when your house phone gets a call from a male voice you immediately become infatuated with. [this very much includes harrison bc best friends being friends and hanging out is my favourite thing in life]

Info (pls read):

 i’ll refer to the pupper as ‘they' bc it’s easier for me lol

y/m/n - your mother’s name (unless it’s your dad or carer or older siblings idk guys sorry i went with one)

y/l/n - your last name

y/f/n - your friend’s name

british spelling of mum bc hi hello i’m from this tiny island off Europe and yes finally i can write about brits whoo

^ is this not the cutest thing you’ve ever seen

warnings: none, this is pretty much just fluff. i’m more used to writing longer fics, this may not be personal enough? please send feedback!

For the past week, the weather had pretty much been scorching. You swore every time you left the house you rented a room in that the concrete was smoking, the cars in the not-too-far off distance appearing like in funhouse mirrors, wavy and distorted. Although you would have been enjoying the weather, there was a very important problem that had rained on the beautiful past few days.

You were alone in the house, having come back after hours of searching for your dog who had disappeared one night. The garden gate was left open after your parents went out the back to catch their flight. During their rush, the door wasn’t bolted and a breeze had opened it, shutting your dog out. You hadn’t heard anything from anyone in the past three days that you’d been putting up posters. You were back from school and all you had to do was look after the four legged family member, but before your responsibilities could start, they had ended with the bad news.

“Still no sign?” your friend, Y/F/N, asked as you opened the front door for her, letting her in. You went into the kitchen as you told her about how many posters you had printed and how many houses’ doors you’d knocked on, only to come back without your pet.

“I have no idea where they could be,” you sighed, offering her the box of prepackaged ice lollies, Y/F/N reaching in to take one. She’d been helping you look, driving you around to different parks and your frequently visited places before and after her work.

“Is there anywhere else we could check? Maybe there’s a few houses you go by often?” she asked.

“It’s been three days, I doubt they’re around here somewhere by now. They could be in any London borough at this point,” you shook your head. “We’ve literally checked every walking place, the only others are too many miles away.”

“Maybe we could go for another walk? Go a bit further this time?” she offered, taking out the footpath map your mum had kept in the kitchen newspaper stand.

“I’m so exhausted,” you whispered, dropping your head onto the cool counter. “I can’t sleep, I cried and managed to have about an hour, but I kept thinking of places we went to, what if we just passed them?”

“Well, what if-“ she cut off at the shrill ring of the telephone mounted on the wall beside the fridge, your legs carrying you over numbly. Reaching up, your fingers curled around the receiver of the vintage looking device, lifting it off and putting it to your ear.

“Hello, (y/l/n),” you spoke as the loud ring cut off, the sound of cars speeding by coming through a little garbled through the phone.

“Hi, is this (Y/m/n)?” the masculine voice gave your postcode and recited the phone number back to you as your ears and expression perked up.

“Yeah, that’s my mum, how can I help?” you asked, much more interested now that you knew it wasn’t an insurance call.

“Uh, I think my friend and I have found your dog?” he asked, a dog’s bark audible in the background.

“Oh my god,” you suddenly spoke, Y/F/N starting to listen in. After he gave an accurate description of the four-legged canine, you confirmed that he had indeed found your lost dog who you’d been very worried about finding.

“We’ve taken them to the local vet’s, do you want us to drop them off somewhere, or do you want to meet us here?” he asked. “We’re just waiting on results from a check-up on them."

“We’ll come and meet you, where are we going?” you asked, picking the pen off from the wall and writing the address he gave you onto the whiteboard on the wall beside the phone. Y/F/N copied it into her maps application on her phone and you thanked him a thousand times before you hung up after telling him a time when they could expect you.

You were the one driving this time, following your friend’s directions as you pushed the speed limit, finally pulling into the parking lot where you quickly pulled up the handbrake, put the car in neutral and sped into the office, leaving your friend behind by tossing her the keys to lock the car. Bursting through the doors, you immediately spotted the rich coat of the dog you’d had for years as they bounded over to you, jumping up onto your legs. You lowered yourself onto your knees, letting them sniff all around you and lick your hands as you grinned from ear to ear, your friend lowering herself to allow the dog to do the same to her as well as you both cooed in celebration.

“Hi,” you looked up at the voice you’d recognised from the phone, your smile still wide on your face as you stood up and threw your arms round the first boy, thanking him over and over again for finding your dog.

“I’m sorry, but thank you so so much, I can’t believe how far they went! We live like half an hour away by car, I don’t know how they managed to make their way here,” you babbled, thanking the other boy with a hug as well, who just chuckled, both smiling at your over the top gratitude from the excitement of finding the four-legged family member.

“It’s okay, just saw them wondering around and thought we’d bring them here,” the second boy shrugged, making you smile.

“I genuinely can’t believe that actual nice people found them, thank you so much guys,” you said with a smile.

“Honestly, no worries,” they were still smiling wide, though their eyes occasionally flitted down to the dog at your feet. “What’s their name?” they asked, crouching down to scratch at the dog’s fur. Once you’d told them, they affectionately started to refer to them by name as they continued to pet them, your dog reacting very favourably. Even when your friend’s phone rang and she had to rush off to pick up her siblings, you felt comfortable to stay with the two boys - Tom and Harrison as they’d introduced themselves - while you waited for the results from the vet.

“How long have you had them?” Tom asked, the three of your sitting on the floor with your dog.

“About two years, she was part of a box of puppies who were given to a shelter,” you explained, stroking your hand through the mid length fur as they lay by your guys’ feet.

“They’re a really good, well behaved dog,” Harrison also contributed, his hand scratching at the top of the almost sleeping canine’s head.

“Hey, guys, I’m happy to see you’ve got the owner,” the vet came out, smiling at the three of you.

“Hi, nice to meet you, is everything okay?” you asked, standing up and shaking the vet’s hand.

“They definitely need some food and water, nothing harmful ingested, they’ll be fine, right as rain. Just let them sleep a little bit more, and make sure you keep them fed and watered for the next week. They may be a little sluggish, but after meeting them I doubt it,” she chuckled, the dog nudging her leg with their nose as the boy and they also got up.

“That’s cool, thank you so much, do you need insurance details?” you asked, pulling out your phone to bring up the details your mother had emailed over when you caught her up through a phone call.

“I’ve sent everything over to your local vet’s. We’ll deal with it, but our time was for free, so don’t worry. Thank these boys instead, they took very good care of them, they did the right thing,” she smiled, the boys thanking her for her time and offering to shake her hand before the three of you left, detaching the belt the boys had used as a lead to instead attach your dog’s lead you brought from home.

“You guys need a lift home or something?” Tom asked, the three of you - well, four - standing in front of the clinic.

“Uh, no, we might just walk home or something,” you shrugged, Harrison looking at you a bit weirdly.

“In the thirty degree heat, walking a distance that’d take you half an hour to drive?” he asked, “Don’t be silly,” he chuckled. “You’re over eighteen, right?” he asked, and you felt yourself nod before you could even think about it. It was weird having passed that age, really.

“Where do you live?” Tom asked.

“North west London,” you replied.

“Cool, we’ll drive to the Queen’s head, beer garden, really nice food,” he shrugged, making you chuckle.

“I should be thanking you guys, I was thinking more like fast food, I can’t afford much else right now,” you said, smiling a little at their offer. Pretty much the most British thing ever.

“Okay, so buy us a coke,” Harrison shrugged, turning to walk, looking over his shoulder to check you were following. Once Tom had also turned, of course you were.

The three of you walked over to where Harrison lived. He disappeared inside to get his keys for his car, driving the three of you as he followed the sat nav to the pub you knew all too well. It was where you’d celebrated finishing school, exams, birthdays, whether you were of the legal age to drink or not. The food was delicious, had a great atmosphere, but it was also a hidden gem, somewhere pretty much only the immediate locals visited, which made you wonder how the two boys from West London knew of it. Most of the local kids, once they turned sixteen, got jobs there are servers, as did you, which you quit just last year to pursue further education.

“Y/n! How are you, babe?” one of the girls from the bar, her name was Millie, rushed around to the front of the bar, throwing her arms around your neck to hug you as you chuckled and hugged her back. She also reached down to pet your dog. It was one of the now more trendy dog friendly pubs, much to the workers’ delight.

“Hey guys!” Y/f/n exclaimed, wearing her working uniform and apron, rushing to you guys and throwing her arms around you with a light squeak, making you laugh again. “I’m so glad you’re here, things going good?” she asked.

“We're good, thank you, can we take a seat on the patio? I’ve got one designated driver,” you told her, your friend leaning behind the bar to pick up a roll of stickers, peeling one off. “This lovely guy, right here,” you gave Harrison’s shoulder a pat, your friend grinning wide as she stuck the sticker to his chest, making the boys laugh at her forward attitude.

“Thanks? I guess?”

“Tells all of us to look out and keep you guys safe,” Millie explained, finding the situation a little comical. You knew Y/f/n's ways, her eyes already wandering his face as if she wanted to memories every inch of his features. She was pretty much his height, something she always complained about, being tall, but you knew it worked in her favour instead of against her. “All right,” she whirled on her converse clad heels, going behind the bar with Millie as she pulled at her ponytail to tighten it. “What’s you two’s poison, and what can I get you other than a tall drink of water?” she flirted, making you chuckle.

“What’s the recommendation?” Tom asked you, leaning against the bar, lowering his voice a little as he stared at the beers and lagers on the blackboard as you left Y/f/n to flirt with his friend.

“Other than the obvious,” you pointed to the blackboard you knew he was eyeing mostly, “If you’re after some sweet cider, I recommend Lilley’s Mango, it’s an absolutely delicious 4% fruity still cider. They stock a lot of West country products, because the owner is from Gloucester,” you explained. “As for beers, Frontier Uk Craft lager is lush,” you said with a small smile.

“What are you going for?” he asked.

“I’m not telling you, but I advise you tell me so I can pay for it and thank you for finding my long lost family member?” you smiled, not realising how much he was admiring the crinkles by your eyes as you did so. He was hooked by your love for the four legged pet by your feet, but the way you smiled and managed to joke around, now that you were much more calm and comfortable, kept him captivated.

“All right, then, surprise me,” he shrugged, your face distorting in a grimace.

“What if it’s something you don’t like?” you asked.

“I promise it’ll be fine,” he chuckled, his elbow lightly nudging yours.

“Y/n, you want to order for both?” Millie asked.

“All three, actually,” you corrected, grinning your head off, the girl nodding with a chuckle. “Okay, so, because you both found my dog, you get a Gypsy Hill Beatnik Pale Ale,” Millie nodded, turning to take out a 330ml bottle from the fridge, “A Stella and a Peroni, to keep it safe,” you added, your friend picking up a glass to pour the chosen beer, “And I’ll take a Desperados and a Lilleys Mango, please guys,” you finished, the girls behind the counter chuckling. “Can I get an extra glass, and a bottle of water as well?” you asked, Millie nodding to get it for you. “What non alcoholic drink do you want, Harrison?” you asked, opening your phone case to take out your bank card.

“Y/f/n’s told me about the homemade lemonade,” he said, glancing to the girl to check he was correct.

“We’ve got peach and raspberry and an appletiser and elderflower one today,” she offered.

“A glass of elderflower,” he nodded.

“Awesome, all together, I’ll cap that at twenty quid, Y/n,” Millie said, lining up the glasses and bottles in front of you. “You want a tray?”

“Nah, I’ve still got the carrying skills,” you grinned, handing over your card. “Twenty five for a tip?” you bargained.

“All right, fine,” she rolled her eyes. “You realise that it would come to about 26 anyway, right?” she asked, putting the order through the till before she pressed card payment, handing you the machine, letting you sort out your payment.

“I can’t have my best student live without tips from her teacher,” you teased, making her chuckle. You were the one that had trained Millie, who was only about six months younger than you, but you’d worked there almost a year more, and now it was your friend’s turn to keep her doing the best job behind the bar. The three of you were quite good work friends.

“Fair enough. Would you guys like any food at all?” she asked, you leaving the decision up to the boys.

“What’s good to eat?” Tom asked, shrugging as you put the Stella and craft ale in front of him, letting Harrison take the peroni and lemonade. You slipped the lead up your arm into the crook of your elbow, picking up the unopened bottle of Desperados, cider and the bottle of water and glass in one hand. Y/f/n listed off the popular offers, the boys asking for a plate of some snacks before you also spoke up, getting a bit more hungry as they talked about it.

“A plate of nachos? Everything separate please?” you asked Millie.

“You got it, babe,” she disappeared into the kitchen after she gave Harrison a number on a stick, letting you guys walk outside to find a seat.

You sat right outside, in the shade, but it was so warm that the only purpose the shadow of the bushes had was that the sun wasn’t directly shining onto you. It was a nice change, and the three of you sat down at the table, you winding the lead around your leg to not let your dog escape, those a few of the dogs outside came to greet you guys, sniffing at your feet and clothes.

“I used to work here, by the way, I wasn’t being weird by knowing everything,” you said as you guys got comfy, leaning back in the padded chairs.

“Hey, it’s all good, the guys at my local pub pretty much know my order by heart,” Harrison shrugged, making you chuckle.

“Y/F/N is one hundred percent single by the way, not that it’s any of my business,” you said, smiling a little as you dug into your bag that you’d quickly picked up as you rushed out of the door, for some sunglasses.

The first round of drinks went down well, not too fast or too slow. Your time was spent drinking the cool, slightly bitter, alcohol - later very sweet lemonade for Harrison - in a comfortable atmosphere. You let your pet off their lead after a little while, letting them run around and make friends. While they did that, you got to know the boys a little better, expressing your gratitude a few more times, explaining how your few days passed without having the ecstatic pet running and lounging around at all times of the day.

“No, I just know that if Tessa would disappear I’d be distraught as well,” Tom shrugged, thoroughly understanding your situation. Harrison had gone back inside to put the now empty glasses and bottles back - and also to most likely catch a bit of time with your friend, but you didn’t want to ruin that by commenting on it.

“Yeah, it was a bit tough. Definitely weird not having them around,” you said, looking out at the playing dogs in the sun. “Thank you so much, you’ve genuinely just, like, saved my life,” you said with a relieved laugh.

“It’s honestly fine, happy to help,” he grinned, making you look back at him with a soft smile.

“It was really lucky that you guys found them, I’m not sure anyone else would have been so lovely,” you said, feeling your cheeks get a bit hot.

“We do our best, just what I would have wanted someone else to do if it was Tessa,” he shrugged, picking up the glass that you’d poured some Desperados in once he expressed interest in it. “That craft lager wasn’t bad, you know,” he added, changing the subject a little.

“Yeah? Good, I’m glad,” you grinned. “I definitely recommend this place, it’s really homely, and they switch the craft stuff around a little every month. Always something new to try,” you smiled, reaching forward to take a nacho chip and took some dip. “Plus when you’re actually here to have lunch, they make some really good food,” you added, Tom smiling at it. You’d gotten on really well during the afternoon, talking about everything and anything, getting onto jobs and childhoods even. It was like the three of you had known each other all your lives, and he knew that even Harrison would like to repeat something like this again. If even just to see your best friend again.

“How about you get some lunch with us this weekend, then? Actually eat food?” he offered, turning to you a little more to show that you had all of his attention.

“Only if I can invite Y/F/N,” you bargained, smiling a little at what you thought he was asking. You weren’t entirely sure about his intentions, but if it was going the way you were hoping, you would cancel anything on the earth for it.

“Yeah, that’s okay with me. You sure you’d want to double date?” Tom asked, surprising the both of you with how forward he managed to be.

“I guess I should maybe leave my dog at home for this date?” you asked, smiling a little wider, now that his intentions were revealed.

“I’ll just bring Tessa,” he shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. Shaking your head, you let out a laugh.

“Saturday, half past one, I’ll book a table,” you offered, Tom immediately nodding, pulling out his phone to offer it to you to put your number in.

“Hey,” Y/F/N walked out, holding a tray of partially filled glasses. “I brought you guys some cider tasters, they’re what’s going to be on the menu from next week, thought you’d want to try them,” she offered, putting one each in front of you.

“Thanks,” you grinned. “You free Saturday?” you asked, grinning cheekily at her as Tom chuckled.

“As always,” she nodded.

“How would you feel about coming back to work, but with a date?" you asked, seeing Harrison right behind her, holding another glass of lemonade.

“You guys work fast,” he joked, Tom reaching over to hit his shoulder playfully. “I beat you, though,” he added, Tom laughing and shaking his head as he threw back the taster cider.

“That one’s great,” he said, pointing to it, after having actually tasted the sweet alcohol.

“Uh, in answer to your question, I guess next Saturday can be a thing.”

“Next Saturday it is."