If He Was Your Fan (A Henry Cavill Fanfic)

Chapter 59: Prerogatives

"Well, Good Lord, Henry, the horse is out of the barn!" he is quiet for a moment. "Did you ask her? Does she know what that ring means?"

"No."

"Henry!"

"Good Lord, you sound like Mum."

"No, she'd probably hit you in the back of the head with a paper," he mutters.

"You're not helping."

"She loves you, and she wants to make a name for herself before you change it. She wants to be sure it isn't proximity but really a desire to be together. She wants other people to at least have reason to feel that way too. Good enough?"

I sigh. "Good enough."

"I kind of like her already."

"She's American."

He lets out a low whistle. "Told Mum?"

"Met Mum online."

"Well, well, well," he teases. "When are the rest of us going to meet her?"

"Soon."

"Good man," he encourages. "Remember, it's a woman's prerogative to change her mind—"

"--And a man's prerogative to change it back," I finish with my brother. We have a laugh. Mum always hated that quote.

"Good luck."

"Thanks." I hang up and look at Kal. "Well, I guess that's that, Kal. Let's go."

We join her and Luna outside. She looks worried. I can't help but soften. She wants my understanding.

"So, tell me about this place at Stella's," I exhale.

"It's in Brixton, not far from you," she says hopefully, her eyes widening. "It's a studio."

"Small?"

"I don't know, but it's furnished and I can still afford it even with the pet fees."

I look at the stars in the sky, the Northern Lights beginning to fade. For the first time I hold to the fact that they are still there. I take a deep breath. "I can help you settle in."

"You will?" Painful relief crosses her features as she leans into me.

I drag her to my side. "If this is what you need, pet, but I want you to know that ring means something to certain parts of society."

She is quiet for a moment, and swallows hard, looking at the ring on her finger. "Should I give this back—"

"No," I say flatly. "And you can take my ring off my cold dead hand!" I earn a laugh from her. I gather her close. "I don't fully agree, my love, but if this is what you need—" I was cut off by her pulling me down for a kiss. It was tender and vulnerable, tasting of tears.

"Thank you," she whispers.

We look at the skies. "They are fading."

"They're still there," she whispers with a shrug. "They'll be back. We'll be back."

"We should camp next time."

"No plumbing?" Her eyes widen. "No thank you."

We finished our playtime with Luna and Kal and head inside. We ate all of our leftovers and curled in bed that night, warming each other. Snow and rain had fallen in the time we were here, only to melt and warm again. "Brixton."

"Yes, Brixton," she whispers. "It's not Group A, but I can afford it and Stella says it's nice. I know it's not the most desirable area."

It dawns on me that she is afraid of London, really afraid of it-the society. She knows the groups and levels? Dear God...

"I may be in middle middle and you are upper, and I know that I think your line was Baronet but now Gentry, and that I am...well, essentially, no one to that, but..."

"I assure you, it's not as strict as you think." I look into her eyes and see real concern, real fear.

"Well, your father is in finance, so he still has the status, your brothers are in professions that adheres to the same—"

"And I'm an actor, love."

"Line and wealth, Henry."

I chilled at her words. She was truly afraid of not being considered good enough. And what's more, she really thought I cared. "I love you!"

"I love you," she whispers, framing my face in her hands. "but what of James Bond? What of the Knighthood?"

I laugh, albeit nervously. "Knighthood?" I pull her on top of me. "Stop it."

"What?"

"Do you really care about all that?"

"I guess the real question is, do you?"

The question hung in the air. "If it comes, it comes, darling."

"And if the door is closed without consideration?"

"If I do great works that improve or enrich over time, I can be considered." I tell her. 

"Like Durrell?"

"Among other things."

"I want to be an asset to you—"

"You already are," I pull her down and squeeze her for a hug. "Good God, woman." I pull her back, looking at her. "You are beautiful and brilliant with a heart bigger than the skies we're under. That's why I love you." I slap her arse. "This bum doesn't hurt, either."

"You're so bad!" she playfully slaps my chest, making me laugh.

I take a deep breath. "I will back you, whatever you do, pet. I see you need this now." But in my eyes it was far from necessary.

"Thank you," she whispers in my ear, hugging me. "thank you for understanding this."

I hug her close. I hug her as if she is all I have. I hate that she feels this way, though there may be some truth to it, but it will be so subtle that she shouldn't notice. Smart as she is, I should have known she would. But I have never felt like this before. I get the feeling she hasn't either. It means something-we mean something...