Henry ran a nervous hand through his hair, forced himself to even his breathing and quiet the butterflies- moths, Sybill’s voice chimed in in the back of his head- in his stomach.
He didn’t really date. Not with any longevity to it. It had been so long since he’d had an official first date, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d made it to a second. But lunch with Dirk last week had been so delightful that the warm glow from his company had lasted for days after. Even when he’d politely refused Henry’s invitation to come home with him, Henry’s attraction wasn’t dimmed. He could respect people’s boundaries, could perhaps respect that Dirk was playing hard to get. It didn’t mean he wasn’t going to keep trying, though.
He was just finishing laying out the giant blanket and picnic basket beneath the tree he’d chosen when he spotted Dirk a bit of the way off, heading toward him on the cobbled path. He was, of course, perfectly on time.
Henry had planned to let Dirk come to him, perhaps lounge alluringly on the blanket with a glass of butterbeer waiting, but he found he couldn’t bring himself to wait. He took off toward Dirk, meeting him halfway down the path, grabbing one of his hands and pressing a kiss on each of his cheeks. When he pulled back he could feel his face burning and flushed.
“Hey,” he said breathlessly. “I was- I was planning to be a bit more dignified with the- the greeting. But. Couldn’t help myself, I guess. Has it really only been a week? I- I’m rambling. How are you doing?”
He ran another hand through his hair, looking away, glancing back when he couldn’t help himself. Time had clearly done nothing to cool the spark he felt around Dirk.
