Chapter Text
The bees technically are responsible for the business, but it’s the twins who draw the crowd. Of course, they aren’t Henry’s twins, but if someone makes the assumption that he’s a single dad caring for his twin girls by selling fresh honey from his apiary and a few select baked goods on the weekends, then he’s not going to correct them. Much is the case today, Saturday morning, when he sets up shop. It’s just a small stand in an already crowded farmer’s market. How anyone even manages to find his stand in the array of much more showier booths selling artisanal cheeses and ciders, handcrafted jewellery and trinkets, and organic vegetables is a mystery to Henry, but he thinks that Madeline and Rose have some sort of beacon on them that attracts elderly women to his booth to sell out his supply.
It’s only a little before eight so they’re still very sleepy. The first weekend he didn’t take into account the energy swings that toddlers are capable of. When they woke up that morning, they were so ridiculously energetic he could barely get them to sit still as he wrestled to slip a shirt over their heads. However, once he got to the market and set up the booth, they were all but passing out on the floor. He felt so bad he immediately packed everything up and sold his stock out the back of his truck while the twins slept in the backseat. Since then, Henry’s packed an egg crate foam topper, a cushy blanket, and a pillow to line the wagon after he unloads everything onto the booth. The twins then crawl in the wagon and go to sleep, a platinum blonde and copper head nestled together. It’s a routine Henry thinks they’ve gotten used to despite his brother’s insistence that he didn’t send his twins across the pond for child labour.
“They aren’t even working,” Henry had told him over the phone one night while he washed dishes. His brother and sister-in-law had found some downtime from gallivanting across Asia for once. “They just sit there, look cute, and play with their dolls.”
“Oh! So you’re exploiting my children for money,” Philip had joked. “Honestly, Henry, I didn’t know you were that badly off. I would’ve wired a few pounds your way.”
Henry rolled his eyes, slipping his gold signet ring back on his pinky now that the dishes were washed. “I’m not exploiting them,” he’d said pointedly. “It’s not my fault that I happen to serve a very sweet elderly clientele who rarely ever see their grandchildren apparently. Honestly, Pip, you should see the amount of toys they get every weekend. I end up just dropping most of them off at the Goodwill before we get back home.”
And it was true. Everyone adored the twins, or “his girls” as some would say. And again, Henry isn't in the business of correcting. They aren’t identical, but Rose looks the most like him with her big, bright eyes and moles dotting her pale skin. Despite the red hair, he could easily see how she was mistaken to be his daughter. Madeline, on the other hand, took after their mother, Martha. She was the quieter one of the two and always had a cheeky little grin on her face as if the gears in her head were always turning, thinking of something new to get into. And she normally did and Rose always followed. That’s how one of the chickens escaped from the coop when they were outside and Henry was helping one of the farm hands with a cow. One second the twins were playing in the sandbox and the next Rose was on all fours whilst Madeline was on her back, reaching and unlatching the hook to the chicken fence. What a disaster that was. And naturally, his beagle, David, was of no assistance in trying to round it up.
By the time business starts picking up, Rose wakes first, tilting her head as if she’s so confused as to how she ended up in a wagon while jars of honey seemingly surround her. That’s the thing about toddlers, one good nap and they wake up thinking they’ve been transported to another universe.
“Oh my goodness! There she is!” the customer Henry’s checking out squeals.
Out of the corner of his eye he sees Rose making her way out of the wagon and over to him. She extends her little hands to him.
“Up please!” she demands and then stomps her jelly sandal covered feet.
Henry hands the woman her bag of goods and bends to pick up his spoiled niece before she throws a tantrum. Christ, had she gotten heavier since earlier? That’s another thing about toddlers, they just get bigger and bigger and never slow down.
“You’re a Daddy’s girl, aren’t you?” the woman comments lovingly, her deep-set brown eyes sparkling.
Rose tilts her head again and then looks up at Henry. “Daddy is a girl?” she asks, a bit unsure.
Henry smiles softly. “No, love. It just means that you love your daddy very much.”
Rose makes a face. “I love mummy more,” she says confidently.
The woman’s jaw drops, and she laughs brightly. “Uh oh! You’ve got some competition,” she tells Henry, still laughing.
When she leaves, Madeline wakes up and they both start griping at him for their daily midmorning snack of sliced strawberries and yoghurt. He settles them down in the wagon and retrieves their little bowls from the nearby cooler and sets it in their lap, their matching princess spoons shovelling into their parfait before Henry even stands all the way back up.
They’ve been with him for two months now and honestly, he can’t remember what life was like before they came to stay. When Philip and Martha first brought the subject to him, that they wanted to go backpacking across Asia for the summer, Henry was very confused. Philip wasn’t the one to willingly give up the comforts of home to embark on something sort of spontaneous such as this. Their family didn’t grow up sophisticated by any means. Their mum was a primary school instructor and their dad was a playwright/actor who travelled around the UK with his troupe in the summers. Henry never had his own bedroom, always sharing with Philip until Philip made a big stink about it when he was teenager and then Henry was forced to move in with their sister, Bea. He didn’t mind it, though. He and Bea were always close, bonding over their shared love of music and animals.
Then, their father died. They had to move out of their modest home and move to an even smaller and cramped abode–Henry’s grandmother’s house. He didn’t think his grandmother ever truly liked any of them, except for maybe Philip. Henry knew she didn’t like him at all, most likely because out of both his siblings, he looked the most like their father who she also couldn’t stand. When he was a child, he recalled overhearing his mum and grandmother getting into an argument where his grandmother kept saying that his mum could’ve done so much better than a failed actor. Henry’s dad wasn’t a failure by any stretch of the word. He was exactly where he wanted to be. Of course, anyone would love more opportunities to make it big, but his dad never acted like directing small plays and touring throughout the UK and Ireland made him unfulfilled. From the times he did get to see his father direct and sometimes even perform, the passion in his words and mannerisms was palpable. In another life, he’d grow up just to be like his dad. In this one, however, Henry can’t act for shit and the simple life of tending to farm animals and bees is enough to keep him happy.
But even with all that, Philip had always been the prim and proper one. Even when their grandmother was going off on some evil tangent of hers, Philip never spoke out of turn. Henry on the other hand? Well, he’s usually mild mannered, but a hot streak inherited from his mother has been known to jump out every now and again. Mary Windsor was no exception to that.
“The girls are too young to go with us,” Martha had cut in on the video call. “And I know we’re asking a lot of you so feel free to say no, Henry, please. But, I don’t know, it feels like my life is passing me by rather quickly and since we have this chance with this truly wonderful group of people and it’s affordable then…”
“Martha, please,” Henry cajoled, offering a soft smile. “You don’t have to explain. I’d be more than happy to watch the girls. And I'm sure they’d enjoy the farm.”
Now, of course, Henry was not prepared to watch two four-year-olds for three months. The last time he had seen them was on Christmas when he flew back to England for a few days. From that phone call, Henry had exactly two months to prepare his home to be absolutely toddler-proof. He might have gone a bit overboard, he conceded; rubber bumpers placed on the ends of tables, the spare bedroom turned into a child’s room with used furniture he found on an Austin secondhand Facebook page, and childproof locks installed onto the cabinets and drawers. He stockpiled a toy chest with all sorts of dolls and gadgets he’d think they’d like, even though their parents were sure to bring an assortment with them already. Henry couldn’t help it. He wanted it to be perfect for them and didn’t want them to feel like they were lacking anything. They were going to be in an entirely different country and in the Texas heat at that. The all too common rainy and dreary days of England would be gone and in would come sunshine and bright blue skies.
When they all flew in at the end of May, Henry made a point to show his brother and sister-in-law that he was quite capable of taking care of the twins and was up to task. Not that he thought they ever doubted him. If they did, why would they ask him in the first place? He planned out little activities with the girls: introduced them to the farm animals (Rose was partial to one of the cows, Dorothy, while Madeline favoured the ducks that weren’t even his, but had settled into the pond anyway), put them in little bee suits he bought for them and showed them the apiary, set up a fingerpainting station off of the back porch, stargazed on the front lawn during clear nights, let them help him with baking the honey lemon loaves, and poured chicken feed into their tiny palms and watched over them as the hens pecked and the girls’ giggles filled his ears.
Two weeks later, Philip and Martha were gone. The three of them waved goodbye as Philip and Martha walked through the other side of the TSA. Madeline cried as they walked away, her face twisted up and bright pink whilst Rose proclaimed she was a big girl and didn't cry like a baby anymore (read: she ended up crying at bedtime). From the parking garage roof, they watched a plane take off that Henry knew wasn’t the one Philip and Martha were on, but the girls waved and screamed their goodbyes to a red and white Air Canada plane headed in the opposite direction of Cambodia.
So, then it was just them three: Henry and two little girls who had melted his heart the moment he held them as infants.
“Hey, sugar,” a voice snaps Henry from his daze of watching the girls shove spoonful after spoonful of yoghurt into their mouths.
He turns and sees his favourite customer, a tall blonde woman with pretty sapphire blue eyes he only knows as Ms. Ellen. Her order has always been the same since she started coming a couple months ago: one 6 oz. jar of orange blossom honey, one lavender loaf, and half a dozen lemon poppyseed muffins.
“Good morning,” he greets with a smile. “Will it be the usual today?”
“Wouldn’t dream of anything different,” she responds, smiling right back. “But I also have a business inquiry, Henry.”
A business inquiry? He tilts his head a bit. “Hm?”
She reaches into her purse and pulls out a notepad and a pen and starts jotting something down. “You don’t advertise it, but I know a lot of beekeepers also remove swarms, don’t they?”
Henry nods, squinting and trying to see what she’s writing down. “A few people have called me for relocation. It’s generally no problem. I could always use more bees.”
She looks up then and the skin around her eyes crinkle as a wide grin spreads across her mouth. “Good, good. Here’s my son’s address.” She rips out the paper and hands it over. “His name is Alex. I’m not telling him you’re coming because he’s stubborn as hell like his father so he’ll make sure he’s not home when you come, but he’s had a swarm on his truck for the past week that he says he’s gonna Macgyver a way to get them off, bless his heart. My son versus a swarm of bees? He tried to convince me once to drive over to his house in the middle of the night to take out a spider in his bedroom.”
Henry chuckles. A swarm for a week on a truck? He’s surprised they haven’t found a place to colonise by now.
“I could swing by when I’m finished here,” he tells her, folding the paper and putting it in his pocket. He’s always kept a beehouse and smoker in the bed of his truck in case he sees a swarm in need of a new home while he’s out. It’s never happened before, but there was no harm in being prepared. And now, look at what the universe was plopping right in his lap. A swarm ready for the taking.
“You’re a lifesaver,” she sighs, her shoulders straightening. “I swear, that boy’s sole purpose in life is to give me hypertension and migraines. How much will it be?”
Henry shakes his head. He rarely gets contacted to remove swarms, but he’s never charged anyone for their removals unless it’s an actual colony which takes much more time to remove.
When Ms. Ellen leaves with her goods, the rest of the hours tick by rather quickly. He sells out of all the baked goods first as usual and then finally the last of the jars of honey, even the one that Rose had swiped at some point and hid in the wagon which turned into a lesson on taking things without permission that Henry hadn’t anticipated teaching at any point.
On the way back to his truck, he explains to the girls that they’ll be making a stop before they return home because some bees need a new home.
“Why don’t they have a house?” Madeline asks as he fastens her into her booster seat.
“Hmm,” he hums. “There could be a few different reasons. Their old house may be too crowded so they moved out and are trying to find a new home. Or, there aren’t enough flowers nearby so they’re hungry. And sometimes another animal might have ruined their home.”
The girls’ jaws drop simultaneously. “Like a bear?” Rose asks, obviously astonished. “Like in the books Mummy reads!”
“Winnie the Pooh doesn’t mess up the bees!” Madeline protests, kicking her legs in the seat. “They’re friends and they give him honey! Tell her, Uncle Henry! They give him honey!”
“Alright, alright,” Henry says gently, coaxing down the potential meltdown. “Rose, I don’t think Poohbear hurts the bees. Perhaps we can read one tonight before bed to make sure?”
The girls look at each other before both nodding their heads in agreement as if they communicate telepathically. Hell, maybe they do. Sometimes Henry swears they have full conversations just while looking at each other before they run off to somewhere in the farmhouse. It’s equal parts adorable and unsettling.
After about thirty minutes of driving with only the soundtrack of toddlers singing a charming, but offkey and never-ending rendition of Old MacDonald (honestly, Henry didn’t know his nieces knew so many animal species and the sounds of rather, lack thereof, they make. And really, how does Old MacDonald manage to have a Komodo dragon on his farm?) Henry pulls into a small but quiet neighbourhood. The house is in the cul-de-sac and when he pulls up to it, he can already see the swarm huddled over the passenger door and flowing into the wheel cavity of the truck. It’s not massive, but still will take a bit to remove.
He parks behind a silver sedan with a Texas A&M bumper sticker in front of the house and turns to the girls in the back.
“I’m gonna go talk to the bees so they can come home with us,” he tells the girls. “Do you think you can wait for me while I do that?”
“Yes!” they both screech simultaneously.
Rose picks up her Rapunzel dolly and starts braiding her hair while Madeline gets preoccupied with smacking her Barbie themed tablet until it responds the way she wants. Henry keeps the a/c on low and exits the vehicle, approaching Alex’s blue Dodge Ram. The bees aren’t fluttering around like some swarms do, they’re mainly stuck together in one large heap. They move in a cohesive, pulsating mass, clinging to the truck’s exterior. He leans in for a few seconds, trying to see if he can find the queen amidst the fray, but it’s no use. He’ll probably have to dig through at least a few handfuls before he sees her.
Just when he turns to go back to his truck and suit up, a door slamming behind him sounds in his ears.
“You tryin’ to steal my shit,” the voice behind him accuses, deep and resonant with just a tiny hint of frustration.
Henry turns and yes, the sun may be blocking his eyesight just the tiniest bit, but he doesn’t really need full 20/20 vision to notice how beautiful this man is. Like, extraordinarily beautiful. When he pictured Alex, Henry had just conjured up the male version of Ms. Ellen: tall and probably lanky, piercing blue eyes, thousand watt smile, light blonde hair. But this Alex? This is nothing like he could have ever imagined. If he isn’t a model, then he should be.
Alex is tall with warm tan skin that practically glows in the sunlight. His dark, curly hair is tousled in a way that’s stylish but from the way he’s dressed and the slight sheen of sweat on his skin, it’s probably just fallen that way. Slight scruff on his chin and along his sharp jawline gives him a roguish sort of charm, but the way he smiles, halfway with one corner upturned and a deep dimple in his cheek, adds something irresistibly warm to him that has Henry’s stomach doing flips.
An orange tank top clings to Alex’s broad chest and strong shoulders, revealing the hard defined abdominals underneath that nearly sends Henry into a tizzy. And the faded, paint splattered blue jeans that hang too low on his hips is nearly too much. People shouldn’t look like this, actually. And if they do, then they should be shipped off to an island to be hot together and not burden Henry with butterflies in his stomach and increasingly distracting thoughts. He has a bloody job to do, goddammit!
Alex’s bright brown eyes, framed by impossibly long dark eyelashes, meet Henry’s, and for a moment Henry forgets how to breathe.
“My mom sent you, didn’t she?” Alex asks, coming closer and wiping his hands on the towel in his hands and then tossing it over his shoulder. Briefly, Henry wishes he was that towel.
“Uh…um…,” Henry stammers, suddenly unsure how words are formed. He twists the ring on his pinky, a nervous tic he’s picked up ever since his father gave it to him. It’s certainly better than pinching himself like he used to do. “You must be Alex? I wasn’t stealing. She said that you had bees and, well, I came.”
Alex smirks. “That’s crazy. I didn’t even touch you yet.”
Henry tilts his head. “What?” he asks and then, oh. Oh! He doesn’t have to see it to know his face turns bright red and it’s not because of the sun or the heat. Alex laughs deep and loud, proud of his dirty joke.
“You walked into that one,” Alex says, still laughing. “But seriously, you’re the beekeeper she’s been threatening me with? Some short British guy? And blonde at that.”
Henry’s mouth falls open, stunned. “I don’t know what my nationality and hair colour has to do with anything. And I’m not short. We’re literally the same height.”
“Yeah, because you have on your little cowboy boots with the two-inch heel, but you’re not fooling anyone, sweetheart,” Alex teases, his eyes sparkling with mischief.
Sweetheart? Jesus. Henry’s face is already red, he's sure, so the blush that spreads across his cheeks most likely makes him look like a super ripe tomato. Goodness, this is not how he thought the day would go.
“Whatever,” he tries to say dismissively. “I’m taking your bees and you can continue to antagonise me if you’d like, but it will be ignored.”
“She’s convinced I can’t handle it. I was gonna get them off myself, y’know,” Alex tells him as he follows Henry to his truck.
“Uh huh,” Henry voices as he opens the hatch on the bed. “How did your mother put it? You planned to Macgyver a way to get rid of them.”
Alex rolls his eyes and huffs, leaning against the side of Henry’s truck. A few loose curls fall enticingly over his forehead. “When you put it like that it sounds like I was gonna build some type of contraption. No. There’s a little concoction you can make that will—“
Henry shakes his head and begins to step into the bee suit. “Anything you found online will surely have killed them and with the rate of the bee population steadily declining, that’s the last thing you want to do. Also,” he pauses as he zips himself up. “Spraying them with anything would’ve made them very, very angry. I don’t think you’d want an entire swarm attacking you, especially that one.”
They’ve been pretty docile so far, but it doesn’t take much to piss a bee off, especially one that’s homeless.
“I’m built different,” Alex says, smiling and then tugging his lower lip in between his teeth.
His eyes flicker up and down over Henry, probably thinking about how ridiculous his suit is. Definitely nothing else. Henry isn’t dumb; he’s been teased and flirted with by straight men all the time who think it’s funny or a joke to pretend to be interested in him only for when he tries to reciprocate it all goes to shit. He’s not falling for it this time. If he’s destined to be a chronically single man for the rest of his life with his little farm animals, then so be it, he supposes. It’s better than humiliation.
“Is ‘built different’ new verbiage for stupidity and naïveté?” Henry asks, raising his eyebrows. He never mastered raising just one.
Alex sucks his teeth. “No way you’re being a smartass while dressed like that.”
Henry rolls his eyes and retrieves one of the bee houses and the smoker. “Again, I’m ignoring you.”
As he makes his way back over to Alex’s truck, Alex sidles up beside him.
“What’s your name?” he asks Henry and then comes to stand in front of him, stopping Henry in his tracks.
“If I tell you, will you leave me alone to do my job?”
Alex purses his lips, looks up, and crosses his arms over his chest. Then he shakes his head. “No, but,” and he emphasises the ‘T’, “at the very least I can bee polite about it.”
Henry visibly cringes. “Oh, for the love of everything holy, don’t start with the bee puns. I can guarantee I’ve heard every single one in the history of ever and they are all awful.”
Alex hums. “That’s beecause you haven’t heard mine.”
Henry isn’t even going to dignify that one with a response. He moves past Alex and sets the bee house down beside Alex’s truck and starts his work of gently scooping up bees and dropping them into the house.
“Soooo,” Alex drawls. “Name?”
Henry mumbles his name, hoping that Alex doesn’t catch it, but he does. Of course he does.
“Henry,” he repeats as if he’s testing the way it feels in his mouth. “Henry the Beekeeper.”
Henry looks up from scooping bees and stares at Alex. “Yes, and you, Alex the Almost Bee-Slaughterer," he retorts and Alex rolls his eyes.
The bees come into Henry’s hands easily and many don’t flit around so he doesn’t need to use the smoker. He only scoops until he finally sees the queen, huddled beneath a pile of workers. He puts her in a clip, then puts her between the slots in the house. The rest of the colony will follow.
“With a swarm this massive, it’ll probably take an hour for them to all get in,” he tells Alex who has been intensely watching him the entire time, making sounds of curiosity as Henry worked. “I’ll just leave this here while they filter in.”
Alex nods. “Where are you gonna go?” he wonders.
Henry hadn’t thought of that. It’ll take the greater part of thirty minutes to get back home and then by that time it’ll just be time to come back.
“I’ll just wait,” Henry answers, throwing a thumb back at his truck.
Alex tilts his head. “I’m annoying, but I do have some semblance of manners. You can wait inside.”
Henry shakes his head, already starting for his own vehicle and unzipping the suit. “No, but thank you.” He peaks through the back window at the girls who are busy yapping away to each other. When they spot him, they both start making silly faces and sticking their tongues out. Before he realises, Alex is beside him also looking through the window.
“Oh!” Alex exclaims, backing away and then looking at Henry, blinking. “I didn’t know you brought your kids.”
Henry nods and steps out of the bee suit. “Well, you wouldn’t because I didn’t tell you, stranger.”
Alex places a hand to his heart. “You wound me, Henry,” Alex declares dramatically. “At this point, we’re practically friends.”
Henry presses his lips together and shifts his weight to one leg. “And at what point did you deduce we’re friends? I know nothing about you except for the fact that you were about to commit mass murder on thousands of bees.”
Alex narrows his eyes. “Oh come on. It wasn’t like that. And I didn’t do it, so…bring your girls in. Have a drink. I have a slide out back for my nephew and he’s about the same age. We can get to know each other better so you can classify us as friends.”
Alex’s face is soft and sincere–he’s an open book. There’s no malicious intent behind his eyes. Henry looks back into the window and the girls are busy laughing and kicking their legs.
“Alright,” Henry acquiesces and then Alex freaking punches the air and hisses ‘yes’. Christ. “But if they break anything, I’m not liable and you can’t sue me.”
Alex snorts. “I won’t sue you.” He throws up a three-finger salute. “Bee’s honour.”
Henry groans, “That one was especially bad.”
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Alex’s house is an open concept one-story rancher with light Brazilian teak flooring (Alex makes sure to let Henry know) and pale blue and yellow walls. Mexican and Mesoamerican art hangs along the walls, pictures of vibrant landscapes and historical depictions. Framed degrees of some sort and family photographs litter most surfaces, images of Alex much younger and current ones with a very large extended family. He spots Ms. Ellen in a few of them alongside a man who looks nothing like Alex. A gorgeous woman is in exactly two pictures, her arms draped over Alex in a way that lets Henry know she is very much not family.
“Your home is beautiful,” Henry compliments as he follows Alex into the brightly lit kitchen. Madeline clings her arms around his neck whilst Rose holds onto his left leg with a hand.
“Thanks,” Alex says, ducking his head sheepishly. “But really, it’s all the work of my sister and her wife.” He opens the fridge and peers in. “Lemonade? Water? Sweet tea?”
“Water’s fine,” Henry answers promptly. He coaxes Madeline to get down, but she just clings to his other unoccupied leg. “They’re incredibly shy around new people.”
“S’okay.” Alex flashes a smile and there it is, that Ms. Ellen smile. He gets a tall glass and two smaller cartoon themed cups that Henry assumes are for Alex’s nephew and fills each with ice cold water from the Brita pitcher. Alex slides the cups over the island to Henry and he takes a long swig, relishing in the coolness soothing his overheated body. The bee suit is lightweight, but in this heat having anything extra touching his skin over a layer of clothing already is pretty much unbearable.
Henry lifts the girls into the slotted kitchen table chairs and hands them their drinks to which they sip gingerly as if they have to test it to make sure it’s fine.
“So, Henry,” Alex says slowly as he sits down at the table with them. “How’d you get into beekeeping?”
Henry gives him an amused look. “You were serious.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks genuinely. “You’re here waiting for the bees to finish whatever they’re doing. What else is there to do?”
Henry smiles softly. “Well, my paternal granddad was a hobby beekeeper. In the summers, my siblings and I used to visit our grandparents in Wales and he showed us the basics, but I was the only one who really took an interest in it. Fast forward two decades and here we are.”
It was so simple back then. They were his dad’s parents and they didn’t have a huge home as he always had to share a room with Philip and Bea, but their cottage truly felt like magic. Perhaps it was because he was just a boy, but he was so sure that the garden was never ending and he could get lost in it for hours. His grandmother was a bit whimsical and had several little places under trees and hidden in the flowerbeds “for the faeries”. She decorated these secret places with miniature toadstools, bridges, houses with functional doors, and carousels. Bea believed it to be true—that there were real faeries that visited as once she swore she saw one. Henry was more interested in the bees. His grandfather always spoke so fondly of them, letting them crawl all over his hands and arms and face without even wearing gloves or a bee suit. He’d said, ‘once you bond with them, Henry, you have their heart forever’.
“Of course,” Henry says, finishing off his water, “the bees don’t actually bond with you, though we certainly develop an appreciation for them on our end. I think it’s more of a sense of trust? For example, when I inspect my hives nowadays I usually don’t wear my suit or a veil. I think they know at this point that I don’t mean any harm. And certainly, they don’t want to sting anyone.”
“You really love it, huh,” Alex says in a sort of wistful tone and his eyes are soft and warm and full of understanding. “I mean, I was never a bug dude, but that’s cool for you. And your grandparents sound like storybook characters.”
Henry chuckles. “A bug dude? I’ve never described myself quite like that before, but there’s a first for everything. But I suppose they were in a way. What about yo–”
“Outside!” Rose whines, slamming her little hands on the table and startling Henry, Alex, and Madeline. “I wanna go outside!”
“How do we speak when we’re indoors, hm?” Henry gently scolds.
“As quiet as a mouse,” Madeline answers with glee.
Rose throws her head back dramatically and rolls her eyes. “Can we please go outside?” she whispers.
Henry looks to Alex. “Can these two use your backyard for a bit?”
Alex beams, bright and incandescent in the light filtering in behind him. “Thought you’d never ask. Follow me,” he says as he gets up from the table.
The twins bound after Alex as he makes his way to the back door before opening it up to reveal a large yard heavily shaded by an oak tree. A red, white, and blue slide and swing set sit underneath on top of a curated plot of multi-coloured rubber mulch.
The girls make a mad dash over to the playset, stopping before it and gazing up at it in wonder.
“Don’t think they know how to tackle it,” Alex chuckles as he sits down on the porch swing.
Henry wavers there, twisting his ring and unsure whether to sit down or not. Alex has moved as close to the possible end of the porch swing as possible so even if Henry were to sit, he won’t be touching him, but aren’t porch swings a bit intimate? He shouldn’t sit, right? Alex probably doesn’t expect him to sit beside him. He should just sit on the step. Yes.
Henry sits on the step, folds one leg under the other and angling himself a bit to face Alex who’s looking at him strangely.
“I don’t have cooties, man,” Alex teases as he starts to swing on the bench.
“Do you have proof of that? Paperwork?” Henry counters.
Alex grins wide, gums showing. “Oh! I get it. You’re afraid I’m gonna sting you.”
Henry just stares at him. He is for all intents and purposes amused and, quite frankly, a little bit charmed, but Alex can’t know that. If he does then Henry risks losing any upperhand he may have, which may not even be much at this point since he’s literally in Alex’s home. He won’t make that mistake again. If the farm wasn’t so far away, then this wouldn’t even be happening. So, Alex can continue his silly little jokes and teasing, but it will not have any effect on Henry. At least, none that Alex can see.
“Anyway,” Henry sighs, folding his hands over his lap. “You set that whole thing up for your nephew?
Alex ducks his head and smiles slyly. “Sure. It definitely didn’t come with the house when I bought it because the previous owner didn’t feel like taking it down.”
Henry chuckles and leans back, resting an elbow on the wooden porch. “Ah, and here I thought I was going to be taking pointers from the pillar of perfect uncles.”
“Who says you aren’t?” Then he raises an eyebrow. “Wait, they’re not yours?”
Henry shakes his head. “Watching them for the summer. My brother and his wife are trekking across Asia trying to rediscover themselves, I guess.”
Alex whistles. “The whole summer? So they went all Eat Pray Love on you and you’re stuck babysitting?”
Henry shrugs. “It’s not so bad. I get to spend time with them that I wouldn’t normally because they live in London.”
Alex stops swinging and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his chin in his right palm. “How’d you even wind up in Texas, man? Seems pretty far just to take care of bees.”
Henry bites his lip, thinking it over for a moment. It’s not a long story, but it’s not a good story. His father died in a car accident in Scotland when a traffic light stopped working at an intersection. The bus he was travelling in with his troupe had the right away, but a truck ended up T-boning them. His father and several others died instantly as they were on the side of the impact. It took a few years, but his mother received a large settlement with the City of Glasgow that she split between the children. After uni, Henry managed to get an internship with a sustainable agriculture and beekeeping program that sponsored his visa. When that internship ended, he applied for a different visa and eventually invested in a small farm with some of the settlement money.
It’s a lot to tell Alex, so Henry doesn’t. Henry has this thing where if he starts to talk about his dad, even in passing such as this, the floodgates may open and the rest of his day may very well be ruined. He’s tried to keep it locked away while the girls are here. He doesn’t have time to have a day where the farmhands can take care of everything while he wallows in self-pity and refuses to leave his bed.
“Just needed a change of scenery,” Henry replies, shrugging. “And Texas happens to be the polar opposite of England.”
Alex hums, studies Henry’s face and Henry studies his right back. It’s a staring contest, but less harsh. Alex’s eyes are molten pools of bright amber, catching and reflecting the soft light that filters through the skylights on the porch ceiling. Flecks of gold in his irises shimmer like sunlight bouncing off the surface of an ocean. He blinks, slowly and multiple times as if his eyelashes are so heavy that it’s a struggle to keep his eyes open. It’s endearing in a way Henry wishes it wasn’t. Alex tugs his lower lip in between his teeth and at that moment, Henry knows he needs to leave. Heat creeps up his neck, to his ears, and it’s not because it’s hot outside.
“I should check on the be–” he starts to say but is promptly interrupted.
“Uncle Henry, look!” Madeline calls.
Both of the men look over to see the blonde little girl at the top of the spiral slide, waving furiously. Her sister is at the bottom, egging her on with cheerful claps. Henry pushes off from the step, already fishing his mobile out of his pocket and starting towards them. He’d made a habit of trying to record little moments where the girls were especially adorable to send to Philip and Martha.
“Go, go, go!” Rose yells as she hops up and down, her pigtails bouncing with every jump.
Henry chuckles and presses the record button. Alex knocks into his side and a jolt of electricity surges through Henry’s body. Madeline wastes no time and drops down onto the slide. She slides down the spiral, her bright laughter echoing throughout the yard while the rest of them cheer for her as she reaches the bottom and lands in a big heap. Rose tackles her and they collapse in a fit of giggles before getting up and taking off to chase each other around the yard in an impromptu round of tag. It goes like this for Henry isn’t quite sure how long, but the girls warm up to Alex when Madeline is ‘it’ and tags him. They squeal as he chases them, pretending to be a monster that Rose promptly decides to name Bigfoot. He tags Henry, who didn’t expect to join in, but then he’s running after the three of them, nearly out of breath from laughing so hard as the girls taunt him in united singsong “you’re too slow, you’re too slow”. Eventually, they all collapse on the grass, breathing heavily and grinning until their faces hurt. After a beat, Alex goes to get them all lemonades and the girls drink their cups down swiftly before they take off for the playset again. Alex sits down in the grass across from Henry, the sun a backdrop behind him, engulfing him in a halo. A few loose curls stick to his forehead and his shirt clings to his body even more, leaving nothing to imagination.
Alex finishes off the rest of his drink, a stray drop escaping the corner of his mouth and rolling down his jaw and then his neck, disappearing under the collar of his shirt. Henry’s face is hot again, but he knows it’s not from the Texan sun. When Alex puts his glass down beside him, he catches Henry staring and smirks. Henry burns.
He clears his throat. “Ineedtocheckonthebees,” Henry says quickly, getting up abruptly. Him being flustered is an understatement. “Watch the girls for me, please?”
Henry practically runs back into the house, unwilling to spare any more glances at Alex or even hear whatever response he has. It’s not lost on him that he’s a thirty-year-old man acting like a teenager with a crush. It’s embarrassing as hell. How many times has Henry been through this before? So many times he’s lost count. Curse him for being a hopeless romantic who falls far too quickly for men with cheeky grins and bright eyes.
He peers out the window to the yard and the girls are pointing up at the monkey bars, seemingly begging for Alex to help them up. Rose is shorter but determined. From the look on her face, she’s barking orders at Alex, and he combs a hand through his hair, probably unsure how to proceed. Madeline tugs on the hem of his shirt and throws her head back, a hint at the tantrum to come if they don’t get their way. Alex finally agrees, lifting Rose up first and watching her closely as she makes her way across. His hands hover inches away from her, ready to catch her if she were to fall. When she reaches the end, it’s Madeline’s turn. Henry watches briefly before tearing himself away, his attention back on what he came in here to do.
Out front, the bees are all inside the bee house aside from about a dozen that flutter around. He puts the lid on it and stores it in the bed of his truck. In a day or two he’ll remove the queen from the clip and let her get acclimated to her new home. When he gets back into the backyard, the girls are off the monkey bars and crowded around Alex yet again, begging him to “do it again!”
“What did I walk into?” Henry hollers from across the yard.
The girls turn and run over to him, face-splitting grins on their mouths. They each take a hand and drag him back over to Alex.
“Uncle Henry!” Rose screeches. “Mr. Alex did a flip!”
“In the air,” Madeline adds, wistful.
Alex smiles sheepishly. “It wasn’t that impressive,” he mumbles, brushing grass off his shirt. “I’m a bit rusty. Didn’t stick the landing, but probably better than anything you could do.”
Henry raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms over his chest. “Is that a challenge?”
“Challenge, challenge, challenge,” the girls chant, running around them in circles.
“You up for it, beekeeper?” Alex teases. “Because I’m kinda buzzing with anticipation.”
Henry sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “After hearing that awful pun, absolutely not.”
The girls groan, both of them collapsing dramatically onto the ground.
“We must get going anyway, loves,” Henry tells them as he crouches down to their level. “You haven’t had your lunch yet and we have to get the bees back home. Remember?”
Another chorus of groans from the girls. “Can’t we stay?” Rose whines, pouting. “We can live here and bring the animals.”
Alex stifles a laugh and Henry’s face turns beet red.
“I’m afraid we can’t live with Mr. Alex,” Henry tells her. “There’s not enough room.”
The girls continue to grumble but eventually get up and follow him into the house and out the front door. Alex trails behind them. He starts the truck first, getting the a/c on to start cooling off the inside before fastening the girls into their booster seats. They screech their goodbyes to Alex and say thank you after a prompt from their uncle. Henry closes the door and walks over to the driver’s side, leaning against the door.
“Thanks for everything,” Henry says to Alex who’s got his hands in his pockets, eyes squinted in the sunlight. “The girls had a great time and I’m sure they’ll be talking my ear off about you all the way home.”
“‘S my pleasure,” Alex replies, ducking his head and taking a step closer to Henry. “Take care of my bees.”
Henry half-grins. “Oh, I’m sure I’ll do a better job at not killing them than you.”
“You just won’t let that go, huh?” Alex breathes out. He rests an arm on the driver’s door, inches away from where Henry’s leaning. Henry tries not to shiver.
He gulps. “Not anytime soon,” he replies, trying to tear his eyes away from Alex’s bare throat so close to him. But when he looks up, all he does is meet Alex’s eyes and those ridiculously long eyelashes that could inspire anyone to write sonnets of. He’s so close that he can even smell him: a mixed scent of clove, sweat, and the sun. Alex is intoxicating. Deadly. And the way he looks at Henry? The way he stares into his eyes? It's entirely too soft, too warm, too tender, too much.
“You smell like honey,” Alex whispers, blinking. “You made of it too, beekeeper?”
Henry wants to die.
“I have to go,” he says and Alex backs away. Henry opens the door and climbs in. “Thank you again.”
He shuts the door, ready to take off at lightning speed, but then Alex is tapping at the window.
“You thought you could make an easy escape,” Alex says when Henry rolls the window down. “But I have to tell you something super important.”
“Yes, Alex?” Henry asks, already anticipating another horrible joke.
“On the way home,” Alex sighs, leaning into the window. “ Bee careful.”
He tries not to, but Henry smiles. God, it’s so stupid. “Goodbye, Alex.”
“And you said they’d all be awful,” Alex laughs as Henry rolls the window back up.
He can still hear Alex’s deep and loud laugh when the window is fully closed. When he pulls off, Alex is a vision with the sun behind him in the rearview mirror and Henry would be lying if he said his heart didn’t flutter and ache simultaneously as he drove away. He wouldn’t see him again. It was a nice afternoon, even better for the girls, but that was it. Because if there was something there, if Alex was even remotely interested, he would’ve asked for Henry’s number. But that didn’t happen. He wasn’t even interested in the friendship. No matter. Henry knows better anyway. It was just a brief flirtationship that was never going to turn into anything more just like always. However, even with that realisation, Henry still finds himself smiling all the way home.
🐝⋆｡˚✩🌼⋆｡˚✩🍯
“And how is China?” Henry asks Martha as he clears the kitchen table. He and the girls have just finished dessert, a dollop of lemon pudding with blueberry compote, and they’ve run off somewhere with David after talking with their parents. It’s seven in Austin, but eight in the morning where Martha and Philip are.
“It’s beautiful,” Martha sighs. “The food, Henry. Goodness, the food is so delicious! I even got your brother here to try something called numbing stinky tofu. Oh, it was so spicy! You should’ve seen his face. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so red!”
“You got Pip to eat spicy food?” Henry asks wearily. “You must know that he truly adores you, Martha. I remember when we were in primary school and he had to be sent home because he tried another child’s lunch that had jalapeño in it. Jalapeño! Do you know how mild they actually are?”
She giggles. “Oh! I wanted to ask you about that video you sent us earlier. Who was that man laughing in the background?”
Henry pauses at the sink, hand on top of the handle of the spigot. “Er…a client,” he answers. “He had a bee swarm on his truck and let the girls play in the backyard while the bees went into the box. He has a nephew about the same age so…”
“That’s lovely. I’m glad they had such a good time. How are you, though, Henry? Just say the word and we’ll cut this trip short and come right back.”
“Hey!” Philip interrupts. There’s shuffling on the other line with Martha falling out laughing. “Please don’t let my wife encourage you to beckon us home early, Hen.”
“You know, now that you say that, Martha,” Henry begins, a mischievous tone in his voice. “I was thinking–”
“Only of how much you adore your nieces and definitely don’t want us to come back anytime soon,” Philip finishes.
Henry chuckles. “Yes, exactly that. But seriously, they’re lovely even if you’ve spoiled them rotten.”
Philip guffaws. “I’ve done no such thing. You can blame your sister for that one. Taking them to the amusement park every time she’s on a tour break and buying them anything they ask.”
“You can’t blame Bea when she’s not here to defend herself,” Henry chides.
“Of course I can,” Philip says easily. “As a matter of fact, I just did.”
They talk for a few more minutes, Philip and Martha telling Henry all about their travels since the last time they spoke a few days ago. The last time they spoke, they were in Vietnam at a market where Martha had to be physically carried away from buying any more trinkets and souvenirs. The two of them gab excitedly about being in the heart of Hong Kong and how it’s the best tea they’ve ever had. Their eagerness is palpable, contagious even. Henry’s genuinely happy for them. He’s never felt like he needed to go out and find himself, feeling content with who he is as a person. Perhaps when he was younger and just coming to terms with his sexuality he felt a bit unsure, but really once he started university everything sort of fell into place (for various reasons).
The call ends after a while and he has to go find the girls who always do this thing where they hide from him when they know it’s bath time, which in turn means it’s also bedtime. He finds Rose in a cupboard in the upstairs hallway and Madeline hiding under an afghan in the linen closet, her feet poking out underneath. The bubble bath is long because once they get in, they don’t want to get out as if it were a swimming pool. But once that’s done and they’re in their pyjamas and in bed, he reads one of the Winnie the Pooh books as promised and Madeline makes a point to tell Rose, “See! Poohbear doesn’t mess up the bees!”
When Henry is sure they’re asleep, he can finally take care of himself by doing his own nighttime routine. It’s still early, though, only nine and the sky isn’t even totally black yet. It’s a clear night and he probably should’ve let them stay up a bit and see the stars, but they can do it another night. He hasn’t stargazed by himself in months at this point. It’s always been sort of a ritual for him; a reverent moment where he allows himself to feel any and everything. It all started with his father; he’d point out Orion in the autumn months and recite the myth like a bard. It was always a performance; that was the actor in him coming out on those nights giving voices to the characters of Zeus and Gaia when Scorpius is sent out to sting Orion. He remembers his father on nights like this where he’s alone with just the sounds of the farm and his own beating heart.
At his current age, his father had already married and had a child on the way. Henry knows everyone moves at their own pace, but sometimes it just feels bleak. At thirty, he’s still not had a serious relationship. He’s had…situations where he thought it was something but was promptly taught that it wasn’t. He wouldn’t describe himself as a late bloomer, he’s had tons of experience, but it’s not lost on him how lonely it still is. Philip’s been married since he was twenty-eight and now he’s thirty-four. Bea’s been in a relationship with the same person since she was twenty-three and now she’s thirty-two. Henry has had multiple missteps that he tries to convince himself have just built character, but there’s only so much pretending he can do.
He hates that he does it, but he thinks of Alex. Alex probably hasn’t had to pretend. Hell, Alex is probably with someone right this moment where he’s very much not thinking of the beekeeper and his nieces who invaded his home earlier. Someone that beautiful, someone that funny and kind and inviting doesn’t have the same troubles Henry does. Things probably come so easily to Alex that he has people eating out of his palm left and right. He doesn’t have to go on a date and pray to get a callback that’s not just asking for a sexual favour. Who wouldn’t want to be with him? Henry doesn’t even know that much about him and yet his magnetic pull had caught Henry in his orbit. Besides, he was already taken if Henry could judge by those pictures.
He shakes his head and focuses back on the telescope. It’s no use in thinking about Alex. He’s never going to see him or his exquisitely long eyelashes again. He’s not going to hear his stupid bee puns anymore that he swears are unique only to him, which makes him even more charming. No use thinking about what he must look like under his shirt that clung to him so snugly and kept Henry’s mind wandering.
“Idiot,” Henry mumbles to himself angrily. He adjusts the telescope and tries to focus back on the cosmos, trace their patterns with his eyes like he’s done so many nights before, but it’s just not working. Right now, he’s supposed to be connecting with himself and with his dead dad, but all he can think about is Alex, Alex, Alex. He doesn’t even know his last name so he can’t even stalk him on social media. What a waste.
He packs up the telescope and decides to just call it a night. He can’t do anything productive while he’s plagued with thoughts of only Alex. Upstairs, he peeks in on the girls one last time, scooting David out the way (he’s taken a habit to sleeping outside their door like a guard dog) before going to his own room and making sure to lock the door. Then, it’s just Henry alone with a figment of Alex he conjures up in a desire-filled haze of all-consuming want and longing.