If He Was Your Fan (A Henry Cavill Fanfic)

Chapter 2: Discussions, Dagwoods, Draenei

Standing within arm's reach, you look up at Henry. You realize you can probably fit under his chin. You stand there, unsure what is going on or what to say, like you're in an alternate universe. But you smell his aftershave, see his thick lashed eyes are definitely what is called "Superman blue" despite that slight brown red shade in his left eye, and his shoulders are rugby ready. Let's face it, if he wasn't an actor, he could get anybody.

He smiles gently and offers his hand. "Henry."

You look at his hand, your breathing shallow. He is your fan? Your fan? Wait, you tell yourself, a fan of your writing. He is drawn to you by your words like Roxanne was to Cyrano, but in reverse...and he is looking at you now, the jig is up.

You start to say your pseudonym, and you watch his eyebrow raise. You say your own name with a small nervous laugh and place your hand in his. His eyes sparkle and his smile broadens. His smile is disarming , his eyes are dangerous since you see his intelligence, something you'd guessed but now know to be true. You lift your chin. I'm a smart girl, you tell yourself. Been one all my life. I can do this.

"I'm sorry I put you through all this," he shrugs, looking boyish. "I didn't know how else to see you."

"Calls, texts, snail mail, carrier pigeon?" You joke softly.

He chuckles at that. "Carrier pigeon."

"It's an oldie but a goodie," you shrug with a casual smile. It was time to observe him. Get past those eyes and observe.

"Are you busy right now?" He asks. "Meeting anyone?"

"Actually, no," You shake your head. "You?" Oh, that was dumb.

He laughs softly. "I was about to have a late dinner, early supper," He looks boyish and shrugs. "I'm just hungry."

"Me, too," you nod. "I am bit hungry."

Just then you look around. You can't be alone...can you, in London? You scan. "Ah, there you are." You finally see two guys sitting there not talking barely looking at each other and looking around.

"What?"

"Heckyl and Jeckyl over there," you say. "HEY!"

"Wait—" His eyes look almost clear. "You knew they were with me?"

"They are too obvious," you tell him. "where I come from they are sore thumbs."

Reluctantly and with a nod of annoyance from Henry, the two cross. "I'm sorry, but—"

"You have to protect yourself," you finish. "Okay, let's head to...Godfrey's?"

"Godfrey's?!"

"Come on, not much time."

"What?"

"You said you're hungry, right?" you ask, smiling deviously. "Ever heard of a Dagwood?"

Henry's smile is almost wolfish. "You don't know want to go out?"

"So you can be under everyone's magnifying glass as you put me under yours?" you ask. This day has gone far beyond expectation and now all you want is to just relax. He seems the same.

Within the hour you have gone to Godfrey's Meats and Godfrey's Bakery, buying a variety of meats, cheeses, breads and sauces. You buy yogurt and fruit. You head back to his London apartment.

Henry's excitement increases as you build this pillar of proteins, baked breads, cheeses and veggies. You lay everything out and simply wait for him to tell you what he likes and you pile it on layer by layer, making two replicas of the original and a smaller version for yourself. You glance at security. They are trying not to be affected, but men don't ignore such a display of deli. You start making the smoothies.

"Whose little sandwich is that?"

You look at Henry frown and follow his pointing finger at the smaller version of the sandwiches you made. "That's mine, Henry, I can't eat like you men do."

"AW!" Henry laughs. "That's a cop out."

"Aw, that's how it is," you retort softly as you pour the drinks. "Alright, guys, come and get it." You look at security detail. "Yes, that means you—" you look at Henry. "Can't be rude." The men come, smiles coming over their faces as they take their plates and nod their thanks.

You look at Kal, who has been watching intently but not moving. "Allergies?"

"No, but—"

You throw Kal a bit of roast beef. "Go on, sweetie."

"You have pets?"

"Well, I did," you confess. "my dog died recently. Fifteen years old."

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says softly as you both look at Kal. Poor dog won't eat it, but he wants it.

"He lived a good life and he was loved the whole time," you say brightly. "there are people who don't get that."

Henry exhales heavily. "Go on, Kal." He wags his finger at you as the canine eats. "You're no good."

"Aw, everyone deserves a treat now and then," you sigh. This time away from everything was great. You got the ultimate treat: you and Henry got to just be people, not for a moment, but for a time. You try not to get sad as you watch Henry stretch his mouth over the sandwich as best he can for his first bite as you press it down and hold it, making you laugh outwardly at the sight of his cheeks full of food and chewing slowly as his eyes roll closed. It will end...right?