If He Was Your Fan (A Henry Cavill Fanfic)

Chapter 42: Coffee & Cavill

"What time?" he asks.

"After your run."

"So this time tomorrow?"

"Yeah."

"It's a date," he is grinning now, and you warm at the expression, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looks down at you, his canines almost showing. He kisses your forehead, grabs an infused water you made, and heads off to the gym.

You spend the whole day planning this. When was the last time you even did this, even tried? Oh, yeah, long time ago, in a galaxy far, far, away. But you are determined. If he likes it, you may be able to do this weekly? Or at least stretch every day.

You can barely sleep that night, you're so nervous, but manage to get a few hours in. The alarm sounds and he takes that big stretch you love, when his arms extend over his head, and he lengthens his legs. This is the stretch of stretches, the one that animals do maybe once a day. "Darling?"

"I'm up," you tell him and you turn to do a child's pose in bed, which is more of a catlike stretch. You bring your head up and realize he's watching you.

He smirks a little and rolls out of bed, quickly throwing on sweats to go on his run. "I won't be long, alright?" he tells you, sleep still in his eyes.

You nod, and in a few minutes, he grabs the leash, calls a sleepy Kal, and is gone. Luna sits in the window, watching and waiting for their return.

You wash your face and brush your teeth and get into leggings and a tank. You make yourself coffee, your drink of the gods. On a day you thought you were out of it and in a panic, you told Henry that the gods drink coffee to wash the ambrosia down and he laughed so hard, he almost cried, and suddenly found the missing jar in the wrong place. To this day you wonder if he did that on purpose because the day before you told him you were a coffee addict and you had a sleepshirt that read, "Give me the coffee and no one gets hurt," light pajamas that read, "Dear coffee: I love you," and two t-shirts that read "No talkie before coffee" and "Given coffee, I could rule the world."

He returns and laughs as he reads your newest coffee tee. "Coffee, workout, hustle?"

"Every day I'm shufflin'," you smile, and glance down at the yoga mat.

"Ah, look at you, all caffeinated and ready," he jokes. "So, what are we doing?"

"Stretch first," you say, getting down on the mat on your knees. "Behind me, legs outside."

He gets on his knees.

"Arms out." After he does that, you extend your arms as well. "Hold mine, relax. Inhale." You lean forward and he holds you suspended forward, both of you stretching your arms to maintain the balance. "Hold...Okay, exhale, pull me in. You do this four times. After the last one, you go down into child's pose with him behind you.

"Whoa!" he sounds amused. You are doing child's pose already, stretching your back, but pulling him over you stretches his. "Wow."

"How's your back?"

"Feels good."

You smile.

"And it's giving me ideas."

"Henry!"

"Sorry, love, can't help it," he chuckles.

"Okay, up." You tell him. You turn on your knees to face him and grab his hands. "Lean back." He obeys, and you realize how hard this is. You tough it out, holding and "okay." He pulls you back to facing him on his knees. He may be exercising but his eyes are telling it: he's getting ideas. "Sit back." His eyes are sparking so much you are having trouble remembering what you put together. "Let me pull you." You lean back completely, trying to get your shoulder blades to the floor, meanwhile pulling him forward to stretch him back. You come forward, and say, "Okay, your turn." He pulls and you moan softly, loving how the tension is being released as your lower back is stretched.