Apples and Shotguns

Overthinking

"Sleep well, Dove?"

"It's too early for your nonsense." Henry complained, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He had not. Slept well, that is. It was the damn nightmares again. They always came this time of year.

Henry had already visited the field. That usually helped things, but not this time.

"Tell me about them."

"Them what?"

"The nightmares." Even though he already knew well enough what they were about. "The men." Wilbur already knew. He's been in Henry's head more times than he could count. He had to make sure he was the right one for the job, after all. He didn't dig through everything in that mess Henry called a mind. His thoughts were constantly all over the place. And why were there so many musicals and chemical compositions in that thing?

Besides, he needed Henry to trust him if this thing was going to work. Something told him digging around that brain of his wouldn't end well.

Henry paused, looking down at his steaming mug of coffee. "They were dear friends of mine. Lovers." He takes a sip, it's more bitter than usual. "I was the cause of their deaths. Though... you already knew that." His eyes flick up to meet Wilbur's over the rim of his mug. "Didn't you?"

"..."

"I knew I could feel something rooting around. You were scoping me out before we even formally met, weren't you?" Henry grins in victory, setting his coffee down with a satisfying 'clack' against the marble counter.

"Aren't you supposed to be pissed?"

"If anything I'm intrigued! Can you read everyone's minds?" He leaned against the counter, head propped in his hand. "Ooo-what else do you know about me? I want the details."

Wilbur snorted, "Course I can. And for the record I don't know everything about you. I stopped looking around after a bit."

"Oh? So I still got some secrets then?" Henry would have thought he'd have long since taken advantage of his abilities. Know him inside and out. "Huh, seems I've pegged you wrong."

"You couldn't peg me at all." He grins.

Henry only shrugged. And something told Wilbur that he didn't get the joke.

Wilbur clears his throat, "Anyway, uh, wanna hear about which of the Monroe brats isn't Gerald's? The answer may shock you." Like a damn click bait article.

Henry's eyes light up, a loud gasp escaping him. "I knew it!" He was always down for gossip. And a scandal like that? It was right up his alley.

Wilbur enjoyed watching the man lose his shit with every little Hatchetfield secret he told him. And there were a lot. He could tell Henry was plenty skeptical of him, but he was getting there. Little by little.

--
Henry walked into the kitchen to fetch some refreshments for his monthly 'date night' with John and Xander. Used to be bi-monthly. And before that it'd been weekly. Nowadays he found the pair trying to gently nudge him away. And normally it wouldn't have bothered him. But they hadn't started doing this until after he was let go from P.E.I.P. Which made him think.

And think.

And overthink.

He had no problem with leaving the relationship. If they were to simply ask him. But all these hints? He could do without. Xander kept trying to set him up on blind dates. And John was cold. Even when the three of them were intimate. Especially when the three of them were intimate.