do you get along with henry?
askbox shenanigans ft. anonymous
the first time she meets him, she doesnât know what to do; hereâs this kid - about cjâs age, and harryâs height - who has emmaâs keen eyes and an air about him that reminds her of her own mum. (this is before she learns who his pops is and then it all slots into place and makes sense. but weâre not quite there yet.) his smile is sweet and his words are honey on the tongue but his tongue is sharp and his wit is even sharper and harrietâs decided to go to bat for him right there and then, even though itâs decidedly not a good idea because sheâs seen battles about territory and sheâs seen turf wars; sheâs been in some, herself, and this kid looks like heâs been through his own boatload of troubles and he looks ready to fight in any capacity.
he reminds her, a little bit, of the people that she used to know: he reminds her of jay, of gil, and hell, he even reminds her a little bit of harry. which makes it so much harder for her to default back to âcaptain modeâ as cj jokingly calls it.Â
they are - in a way - both the oldest and with that comes a lot of responsibility. with that also comes a lot of baggage. (henry, she learns, had to watch his friends stay stagnant for years while he grew, and in return, she tells him about how she grew up and what she had to do to survive.)Â granted, she omits some of the harsher truths and bends some others, if only to make the way she grew up more palatable because itâs the least she can do for him.
itâs this push and pull that reminds her of before, before she made her way to storybrooke; before she settled in, before she realised that everything might not be what it seems in this town - squeaky clean as it looks. before she realised that she might not have a place here.
the olive branch gets extended in the form of reading x men comics down at the docks.
âah like thâ woman witâ thâ accent anâ thâ gloves,â is what she offers at some point and henry turns to her, smiles that brilliant smile that leaves harrietâs heart panging and her insides aching for a family sheâll never see again, for arms thatâll never hold her again, no matter how much she wants to be held.Â
(she looks at him and sees her mum in the way he chuckles or defiantly juts out his chin.)
âthatâs rogue,â he says and launches into such a dizzying explanation that harriet can scarcely keep up with, but she remembers the way his explanation ends. it ends with:Â âsheâs my favorite too.â and somehow, someway harriet finds that they have more in common than she ever thought possible.