watched Jurassic World: Rebirth last night and knew I had to write something for this man
Reader is a dinosaur researcher, studying their behavior (similar to Darius in Jurassic World: Chaos Theory & Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous)
If you're as passionate about dinosaurs as this man is, you're perfect for him
Telling you dinosaur facts is Henry's way of flirting
He likes treating you to a home cooked dinner
Dates primarily include watching dinosaur documentaries, going on a drive, hiking, reading books, or going to the movies
You two got the public interested in dinosaurs again by publishing books, papers, and documentaries on their behaviors
Loomis is very intelligent, emotionally and educationally, so he knows when something is wrong with you, and is there for you
You two sometimes curl up on the couch together and read to each other, or cuddle into each other and read separate books
Henry gets flustered easily, so any flirting or compliments you throw towards him are going to leave him a mess
He sometimes takes you on expeditions with him (if he's allowed to)
He prefers swimming and boating in freshwater because of his experiences, expect this man not to go more than knee deep in any form of saltwater
Loomis is hopelessly in love with you, he 100% fell first
His nicknames for you are primarily dinosaur related, as are yours (you also call him 'Romeo', 'loverboy', and, teasingly, 'pathetic')
You two are advocates for available and affordable healthcare
He would love any pets you have
Henry remained friends with Kincaid, Zora, and the Delgado family, so you've met them and are friends with them too (and you two sometimes tag along on boating trips and road trips with the Delgado family)
CREDIT FOR DIVIDER: @thecutestgrotto
Personally I really liked the movie, although I can see why people hate it. I watch low budget horror films for fun, anything people say about the movie will not sway me. 10/10 movie imo.
Although the script portrayed him as not smart because of the incorrect dino facts, I'm pretty sure he'd be a smart and capable guy in the JW universe.
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The jungle was starting to hush, cicadas singing their evening chorus as the last rays of sunlight bled into golden twilight. The camp was calm, just how you liked it after a long day excavating bones and cataloging fossils.
You were at the makeshift cooking station, stirring a fragrant pot of stew over the portable stove. The smell of roasted vegetables, spices, and toasted bread filled the air. You hummed to yourself, swaying a little in time with the rhythm of the sizzling pan.
Then, from a distance you heard shouting.
“Move! Move, move...HEY!”
Zora’s voice sliced through the quiet. Your heart dropped instantly. You turned around, eyes darting toward the trees. There, just past the edge of the excavation zone, Zora and Duncan were rushing toward camp, dragging someone between them.
Henry.
He was slumped between them, blood soaking through the side of his thigh. A torn strip of fabric was tied tightly around his leg.
You froze for one heartbeat. Then dropped the ladle and ran.
“Henry!” you shouted, skidding over uneven dirt and rocks. “What happened?!”
“Landslide,” Duncan grunted. “He got pinned, rock gouged him good.”
“Get him to my tent now!”
They obeyed without question. Your voice was sharp, commanding, unshakable on the surface even as your heart pounded like thunder. You were already shouting orders as you ducked into your tent ahead of them.
“Zora, get my med kit. It’s in the green case by my footlocker. Duncan, bring in extra lanterns, I need light!”
Henry groaned as they lowered him onto your cot. His skin was pale and slick with sweat, lips slightly parted as he panted through the pain.
“Hi,” he mumbled faintly. “Did…did you finish dinner?”
Your breath hitched in your chest. Even hurt, he was trying to make a joke.
“I’m gonna kill you,” you whispered, voice trembling as you dropped to your knees and examined the wound. Deep. Ugly. But survivable. “You idiot. You absolute...god, Henry.”
“I missed you…,” he whispered as you cut away the ruined fabric from his thigh. His head lolled back on the pillow.
“Don’t you dare pass out yet,” you said, reaching for the local anesthetic. “Stay with me.”
Zora returned with the kit, and you moved fast, cleaning, numbing, and checking the damage. The gash was clean enough for stitching. Deep, but not catastrophic. He was lucky. Still, the blood loss was catching up to him, and you could tell he was already starting to drift in and out.
You injected the anesthetic, then grabbed the needle and thread, trying not to let your hands shake.
“I’m right here,” you whispered as you began the first stitch. “You’re gonna be fine, Henry.”
“Mmm,” he hummed, blinking up at you blearily. “You look like…an angel.”
You paused, lips parting.
“I’m serious,” he slurred. “Your hair’s all glowy from the lamp. Like a…like a saint. Do you hear harps? I hear harps.”
“Henry-”
“You smell like soup,” he sighed dreamily. “Like heaven. And rosemary. And...god, I love rosemary.”
Zora bit back a laugh behind you, quietly slipping out to give you space.
“I need you to stay still,” you murmured gently, trying not to laugh or cry as you pulled another suture closed.
“I’d let you stab me any day,” he said with sudden conviction. “You’ve got magic hands. Like...dinosaur goddess hands.”
You paused, snorted softly, then shook your head.
“Henry, I’m literally stitching your leg right now.”
“I know,” he beamed up at you, dopey and adoring. “And I’ve never felt more cherished.”
You let out a breathy laugh, your heart twisting painfully in your chest. “You are ridiculous.”
He reached out blindly, catching the edge of your sleeve.
“You always take care of everyone,” he said, a little quieter now. “You’re the first one awake and the last one to sleep. You pack lunches, patch wounds, make charts, find fossils, and somehow…somehow you’re still sweet.”
His eyes locked on yours, bleary but full of something warm and earnest.
“You remember the day I forgot to eat lunch?” he murmured. “You snuck into my tent and left me a sandwich. Peanut butter. No crust.”
You nodded wordlessly, heart full.
“I knew then,” he said, voice slurring more now. “Knew I was a goner.”
Your hands slowed. You looked at him, breath stuck in your throat.
“...In love with you,” he whispered.
Your hands stilled completely.
He didn’t notice. He was already fading, eyelids fluttering closed, lips parted with the softest, sleepiest smile.
You stared at him for a long moment, your needle still in your hand, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
Then you finished the last stitch and gently wrapped the bandage, adjusting his pillow beneath his head with a shaky touch.
Zora peeked through the tent flap again. Her expression was soft.
“He’s out,” you whispered.
She nodded, then raised a brow. “You gonna tell him what he said?”
You looked back at Henry’s sleeping face, your thumb brushing over the edge of the bandage on his thigh.
The next morning Henry blinked awake slowly, the morning light spilling through the tent’s canvas walls in a soft, hazy glow. He squinted, fumbled for his glasses on the side table, and sat up with a groan.
“…I want to see if he remembers.”
You were beside him instantly with a steaming cup of tea.
“Careful,” you murmured. “You’ve got eight new stitches and a lecture in nonsense from last night.”
He winced. “Oh god. What did I say?”
You sipped your tea, smiling into the cup. “A lot.”
“Did I embarrass myself?”
“Oh yeah.”
He groaned. “Do I want to know?”
You tilted your head thoughtfully. “You said I have goddess hands.”
“…That tracks.”
“You also said you love rosemary. And that I smell like soup.”
He blinked at you.
“Anything else?” he asked slowly, nervously.
You looked down. Then met his gaze again.
“You said you were in love with me.”
The silence was deafening.
He froze, completely, totally frozen, and you could practically see his heart seize in panic.
“I…I did?”
You nodded, quiet. “You did.”
Henry looked like he wanted to dig a hole and crawl in. He opened his mouth, then closed it. Tried again.
“…I didn’t mean to say that out loud.”
You leaned in, cupping his cheek with one hand. His eyes widened, but he didn’t pull away.
“That’s okay,” you whispered. “Because I feel the same.”
And then, before he could react, you leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. His skin was warm beneath your lips, and when you pulled away, he looked completely, utterly stunned...eyes wide, mouth parted.
“I…wow.”
“Yeah,” you smiled shyly. “Wow.”
And then he grinned.
A soft, dopey, smitten grin.
“I should almost die more often,” he muttered.
“Don’t you dare,” you warned, laughing as he caught your hand in his.
“I won’t. Not now. I’ve got something to live for.”
The camp had quieted down early that evening. The excavation team had finally gone to bed, the generator hummed softly in the distance, and the jungle sang its usual nighttime lullaby. Distant tree frogs, rustling leaves, and the low call of something ancient and unseen. The world felt muted and slow. Still.
You sat in your tent, legs curled underneath you as you spooned some leftover stew into a bowl. Henry was propped up on the cot, his bandaged leg stretched out carefully in front of him, a blanket pulled up to his waist. His glasses were slightly askew, his hair a little messy, and he looked impossibly soft in the flickering lantern light, eyes already fluttering with exhaustion.
“Soup again?” he mumbled sleepily as you handed him the bowl.
You smiled, settling beside him on the cot. “It’s stew, not soup. And yes. It’s easy to reheat.”
He took a bite and sighed contentedly. “I’ll eat anything you make, you know.”
You bumped your shoulder gently against his. “Even if it was burnt?”
He gave a dramatic pause, as if considering. “I’d eat it with a smile. And tears. But a smile.”
You giggled softly, resting your head against his arm. He hesitated, then slowly, so carefully, shifted his arm to wrap around your shoulders. The bowl trembled a little in his hand as he adjusted it with one arm, but he didn’t let go of you. Not for a second.
“I missed this,” he murmured after a moment. “Not that we’ve…had this before, I guess. But I always imagined it.”
Your heart squeezed. You looked up at him, and he turned to meet your eyes, soft and open, no walls between you anymore.
“I thought you didn’t remember what you said,” you teased gently.
“I didn’t. Not until you told me,” he said, setting the now-empty bowl aside on the crate beside the cot. “But I know I meant it. Every word.”
You were both quiet after that. The lantern light danced on the walls. The tent felt warm, safe. You reached for his hand without thinking, fingers lacing together naturally.
“Come here,” he whispered, voice low and hushed like a secret.
You scooted closer, laying your head on his chest as he eased down slowly onto his side, careful of his leg. He wrapped both arms around you, pulling you close until your legs tangled gently and your bodies slotted together under the thin blanket. His chin rested against your hair. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear.
“I could stay like this forever,” he said softly, one hand rubbing slow circles on your back. “Just breathing you in.”
You looked up at him, your noses brushing, your breath catching.
He blinked down at you, wide-eyed and a little nervous.
“Can I kiss you?” you whispered.
He nodded once.
And then your lips met.
It was soft. Barely a breath of a kiss. His lips trembled just slightly under yours, like he couldn’t quite believe it was happening. And when you pulled back an inch, just enough to see his face, his eyes were glassy.
You smiled.
He smiled back and then kissed you again.
This time it lingered.
His hand cupped your cheek, thumb brushing the edge of your jaw, and he kissed you like he was trying to memorize every second. You kissed him once, twice, then again, barely pulling back in between, savoring each touch like it was the first and last time.
Nothing rushed. No heat. Just heart.
And when you finally tucked your head back beneath his chin, his arm tightened around you and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.
“I’m in love with you,” he whispered again, voice thick and quiet.
You kissed his collarbone, your fingers curled over his shirt. “I know,” you whispered. “Me too.”
The night passed slowly. Wrapped in each other. Breathing in sync. You fell asleep like that, tangled together, with his heartbeat steady under your ear and the memory of soft kisses still warm on your lips.
Henry Tag list: @a-quick-request @swimmingnightcolor
