(i wrote this in December but i don't really have time to post this bc my work for this au are gone and i try restore all my work)
Mike’s house had never been this warm or tidy. Ford and Mike Already too used to extreme weather, but Henry’s presence had finally made the place feel human.
Ford felt the heat from the fireplace blocking out the winter chill. He wear the new sweater Henry got for him,a bright red thing with a snowflake right in the middle. He'd told Henry it was a bit "extra," but Henry had just brushed him off.
It wasn't his usual style, but it felt good. It made him miss home,Before all the bad things with Bill happened
The smell of something burning snapped him out of it. Oh no.
Is Henry in the kitchen?!
He ran in to find Mike wrestling with a small fire. Once it was clear Mike had it handled, Ford exhaled.
"Ah, Stan! Yeah, we're good. Sorry, I didn't mean to bug you or give Mike more work," Henry said, scratching the back of his neck with a nervous cough.
"Hen, look,you can just ask us for a hand," Ford said, stepping over to help Mike Moving the half-burnt chicken. "We know you're capable, But you can't do all the work alone."
"I know, I just..." Henry trailed off. "You two always look so down. I wanted you to feel better for once."
Ford sighed. He didn't really have the words for that. Christmas wasn't really his thing,The last time he did it was with fiddleford. He assumed it was the same for Mike; they usually just treated it like any other Tuesday.
He glanced at the Half-burnt chicken. "I get it, Hen. We appreciate everything you do, really. But talk to us before you pull a stunt like this next time? You worried me." .
Henry slumped into a chair. "Fair enough. I should have asked for advice from both of you first."
"I heard a noise. What'd I miss?" Ford gasped when he heard a sudden whisper in his ear
"Henry tried to cook. It didn't end well," Ford muttered under his breath. Since Henry couldn't hear her anyway, he didn't need to be loud. He heard Cassidy hum in amusement.
"So!" Mike said, breaking the quiet. "Since the chicken is a charcoal brick and we still have stomachs to fill, what’s the plan?"
"Henry and me, Mike. You can't even eat"
"Boo! You're a buzzkill, Ford."
The kitchen felt light again. Henry laughed at their bickering, and Ford could feel Cassidy’s quiet giggling in his ear.
Moments like this were rare for Ford, and he realized he never wanted to let them go.