Afton Family Skits [OLD]

Blizzards and Burns {Past}

Author's Note~

Ehehe- I'm back. But with gay shit. :DDDDDD
Yes, it's Willry/Helliam- Nothing bad, just fluff, I guess- ?

Little note: Scene takes place back in the past. Charlie's not dead yet, nor is Evan. :))
Sammy, on the other hand, is dead. For heck's sake, he died when he was three. There's not much time that he had to live. :/
Oh yeah, Henry and Mrs. Emily are divorced. Technically they divorced before Sammy died, but I figured that I'd mention it.

Another thing- Circus Ennard's Pizza Planet came before Circus Baby's Pizza World. :)

To the story we go!

~ ~ ~

P.O.V: William

I knock on Henry's office door. "Hey, Hen?"

"Yeah?" he shouts from inside. "You can come in, I'm not doing anything."

I chuckle and push the door open. Henry's at his desk, sketching something in his favorite sketchbook, which has been falling apart as long as I can remember. I make my way over to him, standing behind him, and peer over his shoulder. He's making drafts of blueprints for the new animatronics at our new restaurant, Circus Ennard's Pizza Planet. I know that he doesn't think so, but his drawings are exquisite. He's always had an artistic talent, even when he was little. It was astounding then, and it's still as astounding to me today.

"Gosh, Henry, would you look at that? Those are amazing. You're such a great artist," I tell him, a wide smile on my face. "You always have been, and I think you always will be."

Henry sets down his pencil and turns in his swivel chair to face me. His cheeks are red, result of being complimented, and he has a goofy grin on his face. He starts to laugh. "I'm really not," he says. "I'm okay, I guess. But I'm much better at robotics than I am at being artistic."

"I disagree. You're an awesome engineer and artist. You're just as talented in both sections." I shake my head to remind myself that this isn't what I came to talk to Henry about. "Either way, there's a huge blizzard outside. We're snowed in."

Henry's gorgeous green eyes widen. "Gosh, again? Really?"

"Yeah."

"I've gotta call Laura to keep Charlotte over, then," Henry says, then reaches for his phone. But it's not there. He must've forgotten that some kid had come in and took it a few weeks back. "Shit. Can I use the one you've got in your office?"

"If you can fix it."

Henry laughs. "How on earth did you break your telephone?"

I twiddle my thumbs. "I dropped it when I was reorganizing my desk last week. And now it won't call anyone."

Henry laughs harder for a few moments. "I was going to hang up those posters after I was done with the sketches"--he motions towards a pile of posters and wall decals--"but yeah, I'll fix your phone. Could you hang them up for me? I'll make dinner for you."

I give him a smile. "Sure."

Time skip

P.O.V: Henry

I grab a pair of tongs from a drawer and go back over to the pot of spaghetti and the plates. I set the tongs next to the pot of hot water and go to grab the oven mitts. Once I retrieve them, I return to the pot, put on the thick gloves, and hold up the pan. I walk over to the industrial-size sink and dump the contents of the pot into the strainer in the sink. Steam flies up and fogs up my thick glasses, but I wait until everything is out of the pot. I set the pot down on the counter, then take off my glasses and wipe away the fog with the hem of my shirt. I push the glasses back onto my face, take the strainer out of the sink, and shake it to get the access water out. As soon as I achieve that, I put the strainer inside of the pot and take the metal vessel back to the stovetop. I set it down and take off the oven mitts, then use the tongs to pull out large chunks of knotted spaghetti. I fill our plates with noodles, then reach over and turn off the section of the stove keeping the red sauce warm. I grab the sauce pan, but as I'm moving the pan to pour some of the sauce onto the spaghetti, I drop it.

A searing pain burns my bare foot where some of the sauce spilled out and onto me. I scream in anguish and hold my leg close to my chest, balancing on one foot. This isn't some first-degree burn from touching a scalding animatronic endoskeleton for half a second. This is something bad.

I lose my balance and fall. My head slams into the counter, and everything goes black.

Time skip

My eyes flutter open, and my eyes don't take long to adjust to my dark surroundings. Well, not completely dark. The lights aren't on, but there's still light coming from somewhere. I sit up slowly, instantly noticing the plush feel of the couch squishing beneath my weight.

"Welcome back," William's voice says quietly. "Would you like some soup? It's kind of cold, though. I couldn't keep it warm long enough."

Will's sitting on the soft carpet in front of the couch, soup in his hands and shirtless.

"What happened to your sweater?" I ask him. "You were wearing it earlier. What'd you do with it?"

"You're wearing it." He points to me. "You were in some weird semi-conscious state earlier, and you had said that you were cold. So I took off my sweater and put it on you." Will gives me a smile. "You look good in it. You can keep it, if you'd like."

"A-Aren't you cold?" I ask him, surprised. He just took off the only piece of clothing for his upper body and put it on me with little concern about how that affected him? "You should have it back. If I'm cold again, I'll be fine. The snow has got to stop at some point in time, right? It shouldn't last that much longer."

He shrugs and laughs. "It's fine. I don't mind. You have it, you're the one who needs it."

My face warms at the thought of having one of William's sweaters forever. "Thanks," I mumble, then lay back down. "I think I'm just going to go back to bed."