If He Was Your Fan (A Henry Cavill Fanfic)

Chapter 1: The Panel

You made it!

You got into the small panel that gets to listen to the Henry Cavill interview pushing for the release of his next project. You went through three interviews and three COVID tests, but damn it, you made it! And who gives a DAMN about a quarantine when you get home?! This is a bucket list item!

You and seven other people got picked to ask questions from the audience. You're not surprised. You've seen that before. To keep the audience focused from asking uncomfortable questions, people are planted to actually ask questions that Henry would be ready for in order to keep everything moving in a positive direction.

You are given a question to memorize, and your mouth drops.

Do you read fan fiction, and do you have any favorites? What do you think of people who write it?

Your heart sinks. You are here, made it, and the idea of asking such a question knowing you write and cast him in roles all the time heats your cheeks and makes you tremble with fear and anticipation.

"Are you okay with this?" the promoter asks.

You nod vigorously. "Yeah, yeah, sure."

You check yourself out. You are in a white t-shirt and blue jeans with light suede jacket and boots, looking all the classic girl next door. Are you overdressed or underdressed? You feel your stomach twist and ask for water as you feel a blanket of heat cover you. You drink the cold water, letting it cool and steady you as it travels your body and take a deep breath. You can and are going to do this.

You are filed in with the other panel goers and your heart goes still as introductions are made. You unconsciously hold your breath as you watch him stride across the stage and take a seat, smiling enigmatically for fans and doing a wave the royals would be jealous of. He scans the audience and for just a second, he blinks at you. You imagined it, of course, you chuckle to yourself. You have always believed your best assets are inside you, but on the outside you're no beauty pageant winner or fitness and fighting guru to attract attention like that.

He takes a seat and he talks about his next project. He seems excited as the interviewer asks the usual questions, giving him the opportunity to sell the movie and flirt with the audience a little. He shows a clip that gets great support and applause.

It's time. The interviewer finally opens questions to the floor and you watch the mic people act like they are trying to pick people and you try not to laugh as you watch your fellow conspirators get picked, one by one. You raise your hand as you're supposed to, but they are not picking you. WHAT?

There are two questions left in the fix and finally, you're picked. You rise to your feet and ask, "Do you read fan fiction, what do you think of it and do you have any favorites?" That didn't come out right, but it all came out, you think as you feel like sitting back down.

He smiles.

"Yes," he chuckles. "When I have time." He pauses. "I think it's really flattering, all of it. Someone takes the time to weave these stories about or around you is...just humbling in a lot of ways. There are some out there who have writing chops and I actually reread those. I have favorites..." He pauses.

Your ears ring as you hear Henry's voice say your writing pseudonym and a few of your titles. You swallow hard, your mouth going dry and throat feeling like sandpaper. His smile is all-knowing. He knows it's you! "I'd like to meet her someday."

The last question from another person came. "Do you follow fans?"

"Most celebs follow fans under false identities they pick but they can't contact them because it's hard to tell where their hearts truly are, but I can honestly say, we appreciate you, we really do. We are fans too."

You tremble but muster a smile and sit. DEAR GOD.

It ends and you measure your long stride quick steps out of there. You are trying to breathe normally. This was surreal. You take a deep breath and start heading out. It was nice to hold his gaze, you tell yourself. That was a moment you'd never forget–

You hear your name called and turn to see security. You walk toward them and they toward you. You are taken back toward that area where they gave you your questions to ask. And then coming down the hall you see him.

"You're fast," he says coming toward you. "I was afraid you were going to get away."

He is coming toward you and you are walking toward him. You shake your head. This isn't happening right now. Forget the movie star shit. This is a good looking guy, representative of all the guys who overlooked you, friend-zoned you and complained about their prettier matches to you...all that shit. Hard to think he's full of himself in plaid and jeans. The suits were like public armor to you, but he looks so damn...approachable...normal...

"So...?" His smile is easy as he stops in front of you.

You stop and nod, smiling and taking a deep breath, then look up at him. "So."