A/N: written for the prompt 'dresser drawer'.
Henry was surprised, in the spring of the year 1989, to find himself at a loss.
He liked to think of himself as a pretty savvy guy; he was intelligent and quick on his feet, and he could manage to get through most social interactions without making a fool of himself. He was good with money and frugal, he had a decent chunk of savings for a young man who was putting himself through college, and he was self-sufficient and well-rounded. In spite of what his father might think, Henry was pretty well adjusted and generally thought that his fair share of confidence was earned.
Dating was no exception; he thought he was pretty average in looks, but he knew he had some good features and the rest he made up for in care and affection, attentiveness and romance. He'd had a couple of serious girlfriends and gone on some more casual dates, and he didn't think he'd left a particularly bad impression on any of them, even when they parted ways.
But Elizabeth Adams was one riveting challenge after another.
It was easy to be with her- much easier than it had been with any of his other girlfriends. When they were together, conversation flowed with total ease and they made each other laugh just as much as they made each other think. Elizabeth was stunning and sharp, with a quick wit and an equally quick laugh. She had an undeniable warmth about her, but she was also tough and unfussy.
Henry was head over heels in love with her.
Which, he thought, might be exactly the problem he was facing. Henry had always been on the romantic side. Growing up, it had been very much to his disadvantage, as it got him relentlessly and mercilessly teased by all of the men in his life, and his big sister as an added bonus. In his adult life, it served him okay. Elizabeth certainly seemed to enjoy his romantic tendencies, and Henry also quietly harbored the ember of a hope that someday, it might make him a better husband and father.
He and Elizabeth had been dating for several months, and spending an increasing number of nights together, too. Her birthday approached, and while Henry had already bought her a gift- a book that he remembered her mentioning she wanted- and he planned to make her dinner that night, he found that it left him feeling like it was missing something. There was an element of romance that he wanted for Elizabeth's first birthday since they had gotten together, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.
The problem had been plaguing him. A week before Elizabeth's birthday, he picked up the phone in his apartment and called his mother.
"Hi, Mom," he said when she answered.
"Henry!" she exclaimed, delighted. "Hi, honey, how are you?"
Henry smiled on his end of the line. For all of the gruffness and tough love that his father practiced with him and his siblings, his mother had none of it. Their total opposite balance of parenting styles was what Henry thought had probably saved his childhood. He adored her completely, and had recently told Elizabeth that she was the person who made him who he was today.
"I'm good," he said now into the phone. "I was just calling because I- well, I guess I wanted some advice."
"Oh? What about?" she asked.
Henry recounted for her his dilemma. She had not yet met Elizabeth, as Christmas had felt too soon to subject her to the dynamics of his family and his father's judgement, but Henry usually made it a point to call weekly and he had told his mother plenty about her. Now, he explained his plans for her birthday and his feeling that it was missing something, but what it was he had not yet managed to pin down.
"You know," his mother said when he was finished, "if she's everything you say she is, which I'm sure is true if she makes you feel this way, she'll be thrilled with your effort regardless."
Henry nodded, though she couldn't see him.
"I know," he answered, "and I'm sure she will be. It's just-"
He thought of Elizabeth's laugh; it rang out vividly in his head, clear and sharp with a little edge of grit that he loved.
"She's really special," he admitted. "I want to make sure she knows."
Henry could hear his mother's fond smile in her voice.
"I think my advice would be to do whatever idea comes from your heart, not your brain," she said. "You've got a sweet, romantic heart, and that's where you have to look."
They chatted a bit more, but her words remained with Henry as he filled her in on the other, less important, aspects of his life.
By the time they hung up a few minutes later, the idea had begun to form.
Elizabeth's birthday, a Sunday, was bright and clear- one of the first truly warm days of the year, which Henry found very apt.
"I just don't really get the whole thing with the movies," Elizabeth was saying as they walked up the stairs in Henry's apartment complex together. They had been out for an early-afternoon hike, Elizabeth's activity of choice for her birthday, and were planning to spend the rest of the evening at Henry's place. He had hidden a cupcake away at the back of the fridge and he was planning to make one of her favorite pasta dishes for dinner. She had also hinted more than once at a game of Scrabble that he was more than happy to oblige.
"Live music, I get," she offered as he slid the key into the lock. "But if I want to watch a movie, I like to be able to stop it, right? And have my own snacks!"
Henry chuckled; he was familiar with Elizabeth's love for homemade popcorn despite her inability to do it herself unless it was the microwave variety.
"I agree," he said. He let them into the apartment and watched as Elizabeth toed out of her hiking shoes. There was something about seeing her here, in his apartment and looking so at ease, that lit Henry up inside. Spending time with her so casually made it easy to envision more than that, a future in which it was a given that she would be sharing his space. The thought made him feel faintly fluttery in the best way.
"So," Elizabeth said brightly, stretching on the balls of her sock-clad feet as she glanced at her wristwatch and smiled up at him, "I'm thinking we could definitely squeeze in Scrabble before dinner."
Henry was overcome; suddenly, he couldn't wait any longer.
"I have to give you something," he said. Elizabeth frowned in confusion.
"I thought…you said birthday gift after dinner?" she said. "There's only one, right?"
"Well- yes," Henry said. "But I also…just come with me."
He held out a hand to her, and though she looked puzzled she still took it readily, willing to trust him in spite of her confusion. Henry's heart raced as he tugged her down the short hallway into his bedroom. In the corner, Henry's somewhat worse for wear, secondhand oak dresser waited.
"I know you said one gift," Henry started, "and I only bought you one thing, I promise. But-"
He took a step closer to her in the fading sunlight of the afternoon, and looked into her blue eyes.
"I think you're really special, Elizabeth," he said. She remained still, but a shiver ran pleasantly along her spine at the way his voice had darkened. "I am so crazy about you, and I wanted to do something that would show you how much I value your place in my life and in my space."
He spoke with measured words, like he had planned what he wanted to say, which she thought was incredibly endearing.
"So I…sort of got you something else," he finished, with a kind of nervousness edging into his voice. "And I'm just too nervous to keep waiting to show it to you, so…"
He tugged on her hand gently and led her to the front of his dresser, where he pulled open the top right-hand drawer. Elizabeth peeked inside, to find that it was almost entirely empty. In the center of the bottom plank of wood, there was a white envelope with her name written on it in Henry's familiar scrawl.
Curiously, she picked it up. It was unsealed, so as Henry watched she pulled out a floral birthday card. When she flipped it open, Henry's handwriting met her.
Dear Elizabeth,
I want you to know that I always have space for you, and that whatever I have I want to share with you. I want you to feel at home and welcome, the way being with you makes me feel. I know that we haven't been together very long, but I want you around as much as you'd like to be here. So, a place for your things in my place, if you want it.
Happy Birthday
Love, Henry
She looked up at him and he rocked on his feet, watching her nervously.
"I hope it's not too presumptuous-" he started, but Elizabeth was shaking her head before he had even finished the sentence.
A second later, she was standing impossibly close to him, her hand on his chest, and smiling up at him in a way that made his heart skip a beat.
"It's perfect," she said, her voice all softness and shadow, and then she kissed him- warm and sure and familiar- and Henry's nervousness fell away, and he knew that his heart had been absolutely right in its wish to be all hers.