Chapter Text
Hans closed his eyes and breathed out slowly, his leg bouncing impatiently. He wasn’t even surprised, to be honest - why wouldn't something happen to the car, after all?
“Battery failed,” the driver repeated, just in case Hans hadn’t heard him over the wind, when the latter stepped closer to him to glance under the hood, too. Not like it would help - Hans didn’t know the first thing about cars or how to fix them. He just knew that no battery also meant no heating, and that was bothering Hans much more than simply not getting to his destination in time.
“Can something be done?”
The driver shrugged, his eyes darting nervously between different metal parts. “It won’t just start on its own, I need a jumpstart.”
“Can you call someone?”
The man huffed, looking down the road from where they’d come from. “We’re so far from Rattay, to wait for someone to come… Can someone come from Skalitz, Sir? Someone from your family?”
Hans exhaled. He’d already checked on his phone - they were four hours away from Rattay and only an hour away from Skalitz, where he was heading. The problem was that he wasn’t going to see his family or friends or anyone who could have come to help him.
It didn’t seem like he had much of a choice, though. The mayor would be, for sure, ecstatic to receive his call.
At least he picked up quickly enough.
“Mister Capon! Are we to expect you soon?”
Hans swallowed. He hated asking for help. Absolutely hated. “Mister Trotznov, sorry to bother you. I’m about an hour away from your town, but my car broke down. It’s the battery.” He glanced at the driver, who nodded in confirmation. “I really do not want to be a burden, but nothing can be done. Could you possibly send someone? I will, of course, compensate for the fuel and time.”
The mayor had started interrupting him somewhere in the middle of his explanation, agreeing already.
“I’ll see - Sam, can you ask Henry if he’s free? Thanks. - Are you in the middle of the road, Mister Capon?”
Hans had no idea who this Henry was, but he was hoping that the man was not having a busy evening. “Yes, unfortunately,” he replied, going back to sit inside the car. They would have to wait for an hour in the best case. They should save the warmth.
“Shi– Dammit. I hope…” Trotznov’s voice trailed, as if he pulled his phone away from his face to talk to, presumably and hopefully, Sam. “Yeah? He can? Oh, perfect. Saving lives here, Sam. Mister Capon? It’s alright, someone will come to get you.”
Hans breathed out with relief. “Great. Thank you so much, Sir.”
“It’s nothing. I’ll send you the number, his name’s Henry.”
Hans gestured to the driver to get inside the car, too. “Your son?”
“Hm? Henry? Oh, no. Just a kid from here.”
Kid? Hans hoped he was old enough to have his license. To be fair, he would not be complaining if he wasn’t, as long as he was not left stranded in the middle of nowhere during the peak of winter.
“I’ll see it with him then. Thank you again, and see you soon, I hope.”
The driver turned towards him as Hans started typing a text to this Henry. “Any news, Sir?”
Hans nodded. “They are sending someone.”
Henry,
Jan Trotznov gave me your number to contact you directly. I sincerely thank you for helping out. Let me know if you need any info.
Hans Capon
He sent the location, the messages immediately appearing as “read”.
“When will they be here?” the driver asked, rubbing his hands together. The car was still warm, but it would not stay this way for long.
Hans glanced at the screen.
Ok
Then
One hour
He pursed his lips. Not a great conversationalist, that Henry. Although how could Hans blame him? The guy had been dragged out of his house to waste two hours of his time on picking up someone he didn’t know. Hans would have been annoyed, too.
“An hour,” Hans replied, wrapping himself tighter in his coat.
The driver huffed. “Let’s hope we’ll not freeze our arses away.”
Hans nodded, looking through the window.
***
“A kid” was definitely an affectionate term, Hans realised the moment he saw Henry. He stepped out of his car wearing only his sweater, which felt like a mockery for both Capon and the driver, who were both shaking from the cold that had penetrated through the layers of their clothes long ago. Henry shook the driver’s hand, gesturing for him to open the hood. He’d parked his car right in front of theirs, facing it, which, Hans was pretty sure, was not really allowed, but there hadn’t been a single police car that had passed during this past hour, and Hans was sure he’d be able to talk their way out of it.
Capon stepped out of the car, too. To be polite, he guessed. At this point, it felt like there wasn’t much difference from just being outside.
Henry was the same age as him, maybe just a bit older. Slightly shorter. But wider. The sleeves of his sweater were rolled up to his elbows, and his forearms seemed to be the same size as Hans’s calves.
Henry looked him over before shaking his hand, too, and Hans didn’t want to let go of it because of how warm it was.
“Mister Capon,” he said, without smiling, and again, Hans could not blame him for it.
“Sorry, I don’t know your last name,” he said in response, stuttering on every hard consonant, his jaw tight from cold, and Henry snorted.
“Go wait inside the car. I’ll deal with everything.”
“My bag–”
“I’ll take it.”
It was nice to have someone step in and take charge of this stupid situation. Normally, Hans would not appreciate being ordered around, but right now, he would gladly do anything Henry told him to. He wanted to groan when the well-heated air of the car hit him. In a couple of minutes, the driver joined him, taking the backseat, saying that Henry had insisted on it.
“Good man,” the driver muttered. “A friend of yours, Sir?”
Hans shook his head, watching Henry through the windshield. He did something with the battery before glancing at Hans and pointing to the hood of his own car.
Oh, he wanted him to open it. Capon leant over the driver’s seat, finding the handle. He saw the hood jump open, and before Henry lifted it fully, he winked at Hans.
Alright then.
Because of the lifted hood, Hans couldn’t see what was really happening. At some point, he saw Henry get into the taxi and heard its engine start. Well, it seemed everything was fine. Hans looked over the interior of the car. He hadn't paid attention to what it looked like from the outside, wouldn’t even be able to tell the brand. It was clean, it smelled of leather, like many cars did, and, strangely, of metal. It was… not recent. Not old, either, but Hans only ever put foot in a car if it was a taxi, and they were usually newer.
The driver got out of the car at some point, shaking Henry’s hand again, probably in gratitude.
“I hope Dan’ll last long enough to get back to Rattay,” Henry said as he got in the car, closing the door, putting on the belt.
“Dan?”
Henry turned to him, his face blank. “Your driver.” Oh. Henry frowned. “What, you didn’t even ask his name?”
Hans shook his head as he reached for the belt, too, but stopped.
“Do you want me to move to the back?”
Henry’s confusion only deepened. “Why?”
Hans shrugged. “Maybe you don’t like me here.”
“I like you here just fine.”
Henry turned the car around, waving to the driver one last time before heading to Skalitz.
Hans was still trembling, but at least he could move his hands now, and his nose stopped feeling like it was detached from his face.
“So, how do you know Zizka?”
Hans almost jumped. They’d been driving in silence for the past fifteen minutes, and he had figured out that Henry just didn’t want to talk.
“Zizka?”
“Jan,” Henry explained. “The mayor. He told me you are a lawyer, but that’s it.”
But why Zizka?
“I helped to deal with a dispute Skalitz had about your historic mines. A company wanted to buy the land. It was several months ago.”
Henry nodded. “Aye, I remember. Everyone was losing their mind. So, you know Zizka well, then?”
Everyone? How could everyone know about it?
“No, not at all.”
Henry frowned. “But how come he’s inviting you for Christmas then?"
“I was surprised too. I ran into him in Rattay a couple of weeks ago, and he asked what I had planned for the holidays. I said nothing, and he and his wife were so outraged by it that they insisted that I come and spend it in Skalitz. The opportunity for me to see the town I saved, I guess.”
Henry hummed. “Do your clients often invite you to shit like that?”
Hans chuckled. “Not to that extent, but yeah, it’s not shocking.”
“So, you don’t celebrate Christmas?”
Hans knew Henry couldn’t see his face, looking at the road and all, so he couldn’t see his jaw tighten. “No.”
Henry chuckled. “What are you, Scrooge?”
“No.”
“Grinch?”
“Henry.”
That made Henry glance at him briefly, his amusement dying as he saw the look in Hans’s eyes. He cleared his throat, looking back at the road. “Sorry.”
Hans didn’t like the tension, neither in the air nor in Henry’s shoulders, so he clicked his tongue. “It’s not that… I don’t dislike Christmas. But I don’t have anyone to celebrate it with, so I just stopped.”
He had loved it when he was a kid. Had been so excited about it, every single year. He had carried it into adulthood - well, he had tried to. Until his father had started treating him like shit, and Hans had started to avoid him as much as possible, but he couldn’t avoid him on Christmas, because it’s a family holiday, and you have to spend it with your family, however awful that family is. So it had turned into almost the only time of the year when Hans would spend more than an hour in his father’s company, this whole hour being dedicated to criticising every single thing about his son and ending with a slammed door, shots at a bar, and a night with some stranger that Hans hated to see in the morning. His father’s death four years ago brought Hans nothing but peace, but it hadn’t managed to purge the poison that had contaminated this holiday, seemingly, forever.
“You can celebrate on your own,” Henry suggested, carefully. “Make a dinner, watch a movie. Can be a nice evening.”
Hans sighed. He had tried that. It had made him feel even more alone, so he stopped. He just treated it like any other day.
Seeing everything decorated for Christmas, people rushing around to buy presents, groups of girls on shopping sprees with elaborate drinks in their hands, laughing - it still made him feel like shit. It made him jealous. The only person Hans bought a gift for was his intern, a new one every year, and then he’d listened to them tell him about their holidays, how they went to see their family, how their met all their childhood friends, how they went ice-skating, how they decorated the tree, and he would bite down the resentment before going back to work.
“You can’t imagine how fucking depressing that is in reality,” he replied, leaning his head against the window.
Henry stayed silent for a bit. Was he thinking how pathetic it was? He clearly had people around him - he called the mayor by his nickname and answered to his request immediately, there was Sam, whoever that could be.
“Well, you’ll get a full Christmas experience this year then,” Henry finally said with a smile, and Hans knew it was supposed to be reassuring, sympathetic, but it looked pitying.
“Can you turn on seat heating?” Hans asked instead of replying.
“I don’t have one.”
Hans turned to him. “What, is it broken?”
Henry tilted his head before answering. “No, the car doesn’t have it.”
“Oh,” Hans said. “I thought all cars did nowadays.”
Henry stayed silent again.
“So, this is your job - helping towns?”
Hans opened his eyes, the monotone rumbling of the engine and the warmth making him doze off. “No, not really. I’m a criminal lawyer.”
“I thought lawyers only worked in their field.”
“Very few do strictly one thing,” Hans said, stretching his arms. “And it’s the same logic everywhere, and I can always read on things I don’t know about.”
Henry hummed. “So normally, you help criminals get out of jail?”
Hans held down a groan. “No, because every person deserves–” He looked at Henry to see him grinning mischieviously, as if he knew he was being annoying. “Are you making fun of me?”
Henry snorted. “Aye. Sorry, couldn’t help myself. I know your type hates being asked that.”
“So what, you said it just to piss me off?”
Henry looked at him without answering, a smile still on his lips. Hans chuckled. Bastard.
“What do you do?” Hans asked. He couldn’t help but notice scars on Henry’s forearms and hands, and he didn’t stare at them because he wasn’t an uneducated swine, but he was definitely intrigued.
“I’m a blacksmith.”
Hans snorted. “Sure, and I’m the lord of the nearby castle.”
Henry glanced at him, unamused.
“Are you serious?”
Henry nodded.
“And what do you… forge?”
Henry shrugged. “Different things. Depends on the customer.”
Hans hummed. He’d never met a blacksmith before, and he couldn’t help but find this profession… interesting.
“So, there’s a blacksmith in Skalitz?”
Henry nodded.
“Is there a wizard, too?”
The stop was so abrupt that the safety belt cut hard into Hans’s chest. He pressed himself into the seat when Henry reached over him to unlock the passenger door, flinging it open.
“Get out.”
Hans’s head snapped at Henry in disbelief. “What?!”
“You insult my job and my car, and you clearly don’t care about people doing things for you, since you didn’t even ask for your driver’s name. I’m not your hired chauffeur, and I’m not going to sit here waiting to see what else you are going to mock about me. So get the fuck out and walk the rest of the way on your own, if I and my car are so below you that you think you can ridicule it.”
Normally, Hans would think it was a bluff, that he was not really risking being thrown outside to the cold, but Henry looked absolutely serious. He didn’t even look mad, surprisingly - just determined. Hans opened his mouth to defend himself, to say he hadn't meant it like that and that Henry was taking it the wrong way, but changed his mind. He just knew this shit would not fly with the pissed-off blacksmith.
“I’m sorry,” he said instead. “I’m sorry, I said it without thinking what it would sound like.” Henry was not reacting, still staring at him, his hand on the gear shift. “And I really appreciate that you are helping me out, I swear. I’m just…”
He didn’t know how to finish that sentence without it sounding like he was looking for excuses.
“A cunt?” Henry suggested.
“Yes.”
He could tell that Henry was not expecting him to agree, that he was expecting him to get insulted and start arguing, which would give Henry the full right to kick him out of the car. Hans could swear he saw Henry bite the inside of his lower lip to not let his smile betray him. Hans dared to close the door, Henry not reacting to it, the car starting moving again.
“Henry, I’m–”
“Shut up, or I’ll throw you out.”
Hans only nodded, looking straight ahead.
Skalitz was shining with illumination put out for the holidays. It’s been a moment since Hans had seen a place looking so… unreal, almost fairy-tale-like. He caught himself smiling like an idiot as he stared at the window.
He turned to look to the other side of the road, seeing Henry’s head snap straight at the last moment to hide the fact that the blacksmith had been looking at him.
They didn’t talk until Henry parked the car in front of a large house, also decorated to the brim. Katherine, the mayor’s wife, opened the door of the house, stretching her arms to Henry, who stepped out of the car.
“You’re a treasure, dear,” she said to him, clapping Henry on his shoulder. “Mister Capon, so sorry for this inconvenience. I hope you didn’t catch a cold while waiting.”
Hans smiled at her, kissing her hand. “I hope I didn’t. I am sorry you had to find a way to get me out of it.”
She waved him off. “You should be thanking Henry, not me.”
Yes, he should. Hans turned to Henry to tell him just that, but was met with a hard stare and his bag being pushed into his hands before Henry flashed a polite smile to Katherine and left, not saying a word to Capon.
The woman frowned, looking at the car rolling away. “Something happened?”
Hans sighed. “I said something I shouldn’t have. He took it badly. Which was fair.”
She pursed her lips. “Aye, I can imagine. He doesn’t mince words, our Henry. Proud, too. He’ll come off it, you’ll see.”
She led him inside the house, the reason for her and not the mayor being the one meeting him becoming clear as Hans saw him setting a dinner for him. His arrival had been supposed to be quite late, and with the delay, it was already past eleven, so Hans felt like shit making them stay up at this hour.
“Thank you again for sending Henry, Mister Trotznov,” Hans said while being pushed down to sit and eat.
He was told to call him Zizka, like everyone else. Hans told him to call him by his first name in return. Katherine told him to take a bath to avoid falling ill.
“Jan will probably already leave by the time you wake up,” she said as she stood by the door of Hans’s room. “But I’ll see you in the morning. Take everything you need in the house.”
Hans bowed his head, got called sweetie, and was left alone.
He probably wouldn’t have been abusing Trotznovs’ hospitality by taking a bath so close to midnight, but the bathroom was far enough from the main bedroom that he hoped the couple would not be bothered by the sounds of running water, and Hans still felt remnants of piercing cold from earlier. He knew he’d made the right decision as he lowered himself into hot water, warmth spreading through his body, his face flushing. God, it felt good.
The quiet anxiety that had settled in his stomach the moment the car had stopped in the middle of the road was untangling gradually, now that he was realising everything was fine. Hans forced himself to breathe out slowly, concentrating on his heartbeat. He was so glad that everything worked out in the end, but the thought of what on earth he would have done if it wasn't for Trotznov was still gnawing at his mind.
It wasn't as much for the mayor as it was for Henry, though.
Hans couldn't help his mind wandering at the thought of his saviour. He closed his eyes. It would be delusional to pretend that Henry didn't stir anything in him. The way he looked, strong and tough and God it would feel so good to have his weight pin him down. The way he dealt with the car, so confident and calm. Even… fuck, even the way he put Hans in his place, and it was surprising for Capon to know that it was turning him on, because in any other situation, it would piss him off. Back at the moment, he had fully believed he'd spend the rest of the night on the side of the road. He had fully believed Henry's eyes, fierce and determined, burning through him–
Hans glanced at the door to make sure it was locked before taking himself in hand.
He was thinking about their argument not stopping there. About getting out of the car, slamming the door behind him. About Henry stepping outside, too, approaching him, getting into his face to say something else. Hans would pull him into a kiss, angry and heated. Henry would bend him over the hood of the car and fuck him rough and deep.
He bit the base of his thumb to not make any noise as he came, the pleasure pulsing through his body, chasing any remaining stress away.
He would have felt bad, maybe, about thinking this way about Henry, but he'd probably never see him again, so there was no harm in allowing himself this little fantasy.
***
He woke up to his phone buzzing next to his head. Hans groaned as he looked at the screen, seeing the number identified as the taxi company. He rubbed his face before picking up.
“Good morning, Mister Capon! I’m calling you about your trip yesterday that didn’t quite go as expected,” a young woman’s voice told him, the speech clearly having been rehearsed. “We would like to present to you all our excuses for this trouble. We find that it would be only fair to offer you a fifty percent discount on the price of this trip, since it did not go as expected. Please let me–”
You didn’t even ask his name?
“Will the driver get paid less if I agree?” Hans sat up in bed.
She stopped, thinking. “I– I am not qualified to answer that question, Sir.”
“Then pass me to someone who is.”
“Ah… Would you like to speak to my manager, Sir?” The poor girl was clearly out of water.
“Yes, please.”
She agreed, apologised, thanked him, and apologised again before he heard a different voice.
“Mister Capon! I hope–”
He could not be asked to listen to that again. “Hello, yes, I know, you are sorry for the trip.”
“And we offer you–”
“Will this affect the pay of the driver?”
“Mister Capon, we believe our clients should not concern themselves with details of our payment policy–”
Which meant yes.
“Then I don’t want the discount.”
The manager coughed. “Mister Capon, I must insist–”
“I’m not letting you pay the poor guy half of his part just because the car broke down. It’s not as if it was his fault.”
“Our company aims to offer premium quality services, despite the possible–”
Jesus Christ.
“No discount,” he said firmly. “I’m paying you in full. Actually, add fifty euros as a tip for the driver.”
The manager stayed silent for a second. “As you wish, Sir. That’s very generous of you.”
“It’s Christmas,” Hans replied, getting out of bed. “You’re supposed to be.”
***
Hans understood the reason why everyone knew about the legal dispute, which, in at least Hans’s understanding, would not normally concern anyone other than the mayor and maybe a couple of other town officials.
Skalitz was fucking tiny.
He didn’t really get a grasp of it the night before, and he had thought that the reason they hadn’t driven for long was that the mayor’s house had happened to be rather close to the town’s border.
No, the house was in the center, and the whole town was, like, three and a half streets.
They walked through all of them, Katherine showing him around with enthusiasm. Hans wondered how often they got visitors at all. She led him to a bakery, a bar, a restaurant, introducing him to the owners. The tour of the town included a church that Hans studied a bit while Katherine talked to the pastor, a medical center, and the town hall, where Jan - Zizka, as he reminded Hans again - came to greet them.
“So,” Hans asked, putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket, “Does everyone know each other?”
Because that was the impression he was getting.
Katherine smirked. “Why, is our Skalitz too tight for your liking?”
Hans shook his head. “No, not at all. Just unusual for me.”
She hummed. “You grew up in Rattay?”
Hans nodded.
“Nice city,” she said, tightening her scarf. “I don’t think I’d like living there for long. Everyone is so distant. Too much noise. Speaking of noise,” Katherine turned the corner of the street. “I’m guessing you already know we have a forge.”
Hans had never seen one in real life, but it wasn’t difficult to guess. The gates were closed, so he couldn’t see much through them, but he could see a furnace, an anvil, other things he wouldn’t dare to name as he didn’t have the slightest idea about them.
“Henry works here,” Katherine said, even if it was pretty redundant, and Hans couldn’t miss the pride in her voice. Was Henry that good?
“Is this a family business?” Hans asked, as he could imagine something like this not being built on a whim by a thirty-year-old.
Katherine opened her mouth to answer, then closed it, huffing, before talking. “Yes and no,” she said, starting to walk away from the forge. “Not in the way you probably mean it - it didn’t belong to his father, or something like that. It belonged to Martin, who was a great friend of Henry’s father, and Henry always liked it, so Martin started teaching him, just for fun. But then Martin and his wife died, and Henry didn’t want the forge to go to waste, so he picked up the craft properly when he was old enough. Martin’s son, Samuel, was adopted by Henry’s father. The boys were the same age. That's why it is technically, in some way, still a family business.”
It must have happened a long time ago if Samuel, who Hans was guessing was the same one Zizka had been talking to yesterday, was so young he could have been adopted, but the soft sadness still painted Katherine’s voice.
Hans wanted to ask if she had been close to Samuel’s family, but then realised how stupid that would sound. Everyone here was close.
“That must have been hard for all of you,” he said instead. “I’m sorry.”
She smiled briefly. “It’s been a long time,” she said, and it sounded as if it was more for her than for him. “Fifteen years. The boys are all grown up now.”
They walked in silence, and Hans had no idea where they were heading, just like for the entirety of this morning. He got introduced to even more people, all of whom recognised him as “that lawyer who helped with the mines”. He got invited for dinner by some of them, which sounded so wild to him - invite a complete stranger into your house - that he didn’t even know how to react at first.
He would lie if he said that he wasn’t enjoying this novelty at least a bit.
“Here we are,” Katherine said as she pushed an intricate metal gate, getting into the yard of a house at the end of the street.
The porch was decorated with some ornate designs - metal, again, and if Hans had to guess whose house it was, he would have guessed–
“It’s Henry’s. Well, his family’s,” Katherine explained, knocking on the door.
It’s not that Hans didn’t want to meet Henry after last night, but he was sure there would be some complications. He also wondered why exactly they were here.
The man who opened the door was Katherine’s age. His face was stern.
“Radzig,” the woman said after a quick greeting, “Allow me to introduce you to the man who saved your mines.”
Hans frowned. His mines?
Radzig’s face softened immediately. “Ah,” he said, “The lawyer I’ve heard so much about?”
Hans smiled in response. “Himself. But I thought the mines belonged to the town?”
Katherine snorted. “Of course, you know best who they belong to now, but Radzig’s ancestors were the ones who owned them while they were still operating, so we still consider him an… honorary owner.”
“Let me know if you want to visit them,” Radzig added. “I can send one of my sons with you to show you what you saved for us.”
During the case, Hans had seen enough maps and blueprints of the mines to know what they looked like - underground tunnels. Dark. Narrow. The last place he wanted to be in.
“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you or your sons,” he answered.
Radzig smirked. “Especially Henry, I imagine?”
So, Henry had told him about how their trip went. Thankfully, Radzig looked amused by it instead of being annoyed at Hans for insulting his son. Maybe he was well aware of his temper, the same way Katherine was.
“I’m sure he’d agree with me,” Hans said with a polite smile.
“We’ll have a wonderful chance to discuss it tonight,” Katherine chimed in, “At dinner. We are expecting you, Radzig, right?”
Hans looked at her. “Dinner?”
“Of course, to greet you properly,” Katherine replied, as if he had just asked the silliest thing. “We’re inviting some people to join us.”
Well, Hans guessed he didn’t really have a say in that.
***
Katherine didn’t let Hans help her while preparing dinner. She said it was because she didn’t want to bother her guest or make him work, but Hans had a feeling that the real reason was that she didn’t trust him not to fuck up anything, which he couldn’t really blame her for. He insisted on at least helping with setting the table, but he still noticed how Katherine had changed the placement of the cutlery, ever so slightly.
He had also asked her in detail about who they were expecting. Hans already wasn’t the biggest fan of the sudden gathering, but he was polite enough to hold his tongue. The least he could do to calm down his nerves a bit was to inquire more about their guests.
There wouldn’t be too many people, thank god. Radzig with his two sons, a retired soldier named Hynek that Katherine warned Hans not to listen to, the doctor, and another man called Kubyenka, who Katherine wasn’t even sure would come. When Hans asked why, the woman waved her hand, mumbling something dismissive.
Kubyenka indeed was not there, but it almost felt like he was, given how enthusiastically Hynek was talking about him, telling Hans all there was to know about him. Capon realised quite quickly the reason for Katherine’s warning - the man had an opinion on everything and no filter, and Katherine looked at him like she was more than willing to throw him out. It seemed she only tolerated him because of her husband, who was able to tune Hynek’s behaviour down.
Hans escaped to the kitchen when he heard Radzig arrive, slipping through the slightly opened door.
“Next time, tell him we can just do without any alcohol,” Zizka said, his voice serious.
Hynek was about to reply something, stopping himself when both men saw Hans, who immediately knew he wasn’t supposed to be here.
Thankfully, Zizka smiled before leaving the kitchen, looking at Hynek knowingly. The latter stayed, looking at the bottle of beer in his hand with a strange expression on his face.
So, that was the reason for Kubyenka not coming? Because there was alcohol? Hans opened his mouth to… apologise? he wasn’t even sure, but Hynek shook his head and took another sip before pushing past Hans into the hallway, exclaiming in a put-on excitement at seeing Radzig.
Henry pointedly ignored Hans, only giving him a short nod while Radzig introduced him to Samuel. Funnily enough, with their similar cut and facial hair, Samuel looked more like Radzig than Henry did.
“I hope your driver wasn't too unpleasant,” Samuel said, and Henry shot him a stare, his eyes flicking to Hans just for a moment before finding something more interesting on the wall.
“No, but I believe I might have been,” Hans answered, and Henry glanced at him again, but none of them had a chance to say anything before Katherine ushered them to the table.
Hans was the center of attention, of course, and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. Initially, he'd hated the idea, but the longer the evening ran on, the less uncomfortable he felt. He was asked about his job, the city, and, of course–
“So, Hans,” Katherine said with a smile as she finally sat down by her husband, “Is there a Mrs Capon?”
Hans smiled. The way Katherine was looking at him made it obvious that she knew she was being annoying - such a question was rarely well placed, and Katherine hadn’t struck him as a tactless woman.
“Too busy with my job for that,” he replied, taking a sip of his wine. “And it would be ‘Mister Capon’, if any.”
Hans was old enough and bitter enough not to care anymore what kind of reaction this information would get. It wasn’t something he was hiding, and he definitely was not afraid of arguing with someone over it; arguing was his whole job.
A small silence hung, which was quickly interrupted by Katherine saying something in the lines of love, surely, finding him at the right time, and Hans smiled politely in response.
A smallest movement caught the side of his eye - Henry jolted ever so slightly, startled, and it looked suspiciously similar to something a person would do if they had been kicked under the table. The blacksmith’s head snapped towards his brother, sitting to his right, who continued eating as if nothing had happened, ignoring the burning stare directed at him.
Huh.
Hans averted his gaze fast enough to avoid meeting Henry’s eyes in case the latter would look at him to make sure he hadn’t seen that, concentrating on the continuation of Katherine’s interrogation.
This whole scene lasted for less than a second, but Hans wasn’t stupid. Reading between the lines was also his job.
Of course, it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean they had to feel anything towards each other just because they were in each other's vicinity, and yet Hans couldn’t help but wonder if Henry did.
The food was amazing, and Hans ate until he just couldn’t anymore. It had been so long since he’d had some home-cooked food, and not the one he had to make for himself. Even the occasion itself, which he had been apprehensive about, turned out to be more than pleasant, and when the guests started to leave, Hans caught himself thinking he kind of didn’t want them to.
Henry’s family was the last to leave, and he and Samuel got up to help clean the table, despite Katherine’s insistence on doing it herself. Hans joined them - he figured that was the least he could do to thank the woman for making all of it. Henry seemed to be avoiding staying alone with him, leaving the kitchen as soon as Hans would walk into it, or following Samuel aimlessly at least a couple of times.
Hans hated leaving things like this - hanging, hoping they would get smoothed on their own, so when Henry made another move to escape the kitchen, Capon caught his elbow.
“Henry.” Hans released him immediately and was slightly surprised by the fact that Henry stayed instead of ignoring him. “Can we talk?”
Henry nodded as he pulled the door behind himself, almost closing it.
“I wanted to apologise for yesterday,” Hans said, looking the blacksmith in the eye. “It wasn’t my intention to insult you, and I didn’t think about how my words would come out. I am sorry for it. I really am grateful to you for helping me. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t come. So, again - thank you, and I am sorry.”
Henry was listening to him attentively, not really reacting, as if he wanted to hear the whole thing before making up his mind. He rubbed the back of his neck, and Hans tried to ignore how this move made his bicep stretch the fabric of his sweater.
“It’s fine,” Henry finally said. “I, uh… maybe I overreacted. I guess I was more annoyed by having to drive somewhere than I had thought when I agreed to it. And I wouldn’t have kicked you out of the car.”
Hans smiled. “You looked like you definitely would.”
Henry chuckled. “Then it worked.”
Hans reached out his hand, that Henry took with readiness, without hesitating for a second. The handshake was brief, just an acknowledgement of their mutual peace, but it was still long enough for Samuel to push the kitchen door in and notice it, throwing Henry a look.
Henry didn’t even say anything, instead immediately turning his brother around and dragging him away, probably before the latter could say something.