Chapter Text
There's a leg flung on top of Henry's, an arm wrapped around his waist, and a hand locked on his wrist. Warm puffs of air wash over Henry's neck in a steady, sleepy rhythm. Somewhere in the night, their positions flipped. Not that Henry’s complaining, though. The feeling of waking up with an Alex-shaped koala attached to him is both foreign and so, so welcome.
Also a bit frightening, if he's being honest with himself. Last night was a leap in their relationship, a line crossed after months and months of back-and-forth, of late nights and barbs thrown and inconspicuous stares and Alex's messy curls tousled into painfully obvious sex hair that one time and—
How is Henry supposed to survive this? He never thought he'd be allowed the privilege of knowing Alex like this, of having him in any capacity that mattered; never expected to trip and fall headfirst into a relationship with a foregone conclusion and a flame destined to be extinguished.
Didn't keep Henry from wanting to burn, anyway. He was helpless to stop it, to let himself look and touch and taste whenever the opportunity presented itself, to hold his greedy hands out and pull Alex closer when given the chance.
“Good morning, baby,” a half-awake Alex whispers in Henry's ear. “What time is it?”
It is far too early in the morning to be hearing baby in such a rough, sleep-sanded voice. Henry can only bear so much.
“Baby was not on the approved list of pet names,” Henry murmurs. “How is a man to cope?” A genuine question, honestly. He's been fielding sweetheart for two excruciating years, trying to build up a semblance of emotional resistance. All it took was one impeccably timed baby to render Henry utterly hopeless.
He was always hopeless when it came to Alexander Claremont-Diaz. That much is for certain.
“Do you want me to stop?” Alex asks, chin resting against the curve of Henry's neck.
“Well, I didn't say that,” Henry clarifies.
“Should I replace it with boy toy?”
“I will leave this bed—”
“Bunny?”
Henry attempts to wriggle out of Alex's iron grip; a futile exercise—he only clamps down harder.
“Your mother will be knocking at any moment, we have shopping to do.”
One awkward wake-up call with Ellen was enough for Henry.;At the time, he was wholly unprepared at the time for the way Alex slid into the bed behind him, crowding him with his warmth and expecting him to play it cool. As it turns out, an entire night spent that way has left him feeling no more prepared for greeting Alex’s mother while they’re tangled up in bed together.
Hopeless.
“And? Nothing she hasn't seen before,” Alex jokes, but bumps his forehead lightly on Henry's shoulder and, thankfully, rolls out of bed. “You get fifteen extra minutes, as a treat.”
He watches from his front-row seat as a boxer-clad Alex heads to the bathroom, closing the door but not bothering to lock it this time. Henry gets a visceral flashback to the last time the door was unlocked, when he collided with a sweaty, naked Alex. He thought his soul was going to exit his body, was fully prepared to leave this mortal plane of existence.
Before bed, Alex had asked with incredibly suggestive eyes about Henry's tattoo, which could only mean he was interested in Henry's boxers being off his body. Henry had hesitated, said no. To his credit, Alex was eager for just about anything, even exceedingly chaste cuddling; was committed to his goal to completely ruin Henry for anyone else.
He wonders what would have happened if he allowed himself to say yes; thinks that's probably not the best idea at the moment. The discomfort in Henry's chest balloons.
Everything about this situation was atypical, uncharted territory. How was he supposed to introduce any form of intimacy into an arrangement where he essentially blackmailed Alex into marriage? How could he ever be sure that Alex's feelings weren’t somehow manufactured by the absurdity of the situation, or simply amplified by their forced proximity?
Is any of it real?
The metallic taste of blood breaks Henry out of his fog; he was chewing on his lips a little too hard. An anxious habit he can't kick.
Alex emerges from the bathroom, towel around his waist, looking every inch a dream Henry has worked so very hard to keep a healthy and respectful distance from all this time. He's smiling as he walks towards the closet, but one look at Henry and his face is morphing into concern.
“Are you okay? Your face is doing the thing it does when one of Nora's spreadsheets doesn't make sense.” He pauses. “Which is rare, might I add. Should I be worried?”
“Are you upset about last night?” Henry blurts out. His hand almost flies up to clamp his mouth shut. Where on earth did that come from?
Alex's eyebrows furrow. “Upset? No? Are you upset?” His face shifts, anxiety clouding his features. He looks at the foot of the bed, lashes casting a shadow over his cheeks. They are unreasonably long, the sight of them threatening to choke Henry out completely. “Did I—did I read something wrong?”
“Oh God no, I was just—I didn't want you to feel disappointed.” In me, Henry doesn't add. In my choices.
Alex opens the closet door, using it as a shield to put on his clothes, before shutting it and coming to sit on the bed. "Henry. Where is this coming from?”
Henry worries his lower lip with his teeth, and Alex reaches out to thumb at it, effectively stopping the motion before gesturing for Henry to continue.
“I know we didn't take things further last night, and I—”
Alex cuts him off, his gaze intent. “Please, there is never a pressure to do anything you don't want to do.” He pauses, a little smile playing at the edges of his mouth. “I kept my sh*t together for two years, didn't I?”
“It's not that I didn't want to, because God did I want to, it's just…” He trails off, unsure of how to explain himself without sounding like a lunatic.
Alex picks up Henry's fallen thread and tugs. “Listen, I get it. It's a lot, and yeah maybe we’ve been slowly building up to it for an agonizing few years now, but it’s still a lot very quickly, and we're two people with a very stressful few days ahead, and it's okay to want to take things slow, and you don't need to explain yourself.” Alex grins. “There, did I cover it all? Are you done overthinking sh*t now?”
Alex’s ability to read Henry and his tells is, typically, incredibly useful. In the workplace, it's like a shared, unspoken language. Right now, however, it's making Henry feel a little itchy. He pushes past it and manages to bring a smile to his face. It's not as taxing as it used to be; Alex makes it easy.
“Yes, alright. You win,” Henry teases. “Once again, bested by the whip-smart brain of Alex Claremont-Diaz.”
“Ooh, talk dirty to me,” Alex quips, eyes crinkled. “In a purely platonic, nonsexual, no-pressure way of course.” His smile is cheeky. “But just know that the minute that interview is done, I’m literally mauling you. You can’t stop me.”
Henry nails him in the chest with a pillow and Alex yelps. “Menace.”
“That wasn’t a no,” Alex sing-songs as Henry groans.
💍💍💍💍💍
They're in a brightly lit, fancy suit shop Ellen wrangled at the last second, wanting “only the best for their big day.” It’s two hours before opening for maximum privacy and security reasons—it’s not every day the sales associates get to help the mayor’s family with secret wedding prep. There’s a buzz in the air, an excited energy as everyone bustles around the store.
After spending the better portion of an hour peppering Henry and Alex with questions on their wedding preferences, from suit tastes to color schemes—“We need to color-coordinate, sugar!”—Ellen, June, and Nora are now flitting around the sales floor, rifling through suits with clinical efficiency. Ellen occasionally grabs a suit, examines it with a critical eye, and either places it back on the rack with a sigh, or drapes it over a patient Leo, the man’s arms laden with suits of different colors and styles as he dutifully follows her around. June and Nora are doing something similar, dropping suits into Oscar’s waiting arms. His eyes are perpetually narrowed, as if waiting for someone to jump out and call Henry’s bluff at any possible moment.
Granted, there is someone waiting to jump out and call Henry’s bluff at any possible moment. Luckily, she’s all the way in a depressing office in New York, counting down the minutes until Tuesday morning. Henry almost shudders at the thought. Agent Zahra Bankston is downright frightening.
Leo ushers Henry into a changing room and hands him a few suits. “Between you and me, the cream one is my favorite. If you save it for last, you’ll lean into the dramatic effect. If you wear it first, we can all leave early and get barbecue. Up to you.”
Henry laughs as Leo winks and leaves to wait outside.
And, well, Leo was right. The moment he puts the suit on, he knows this is what he’s wearing tomorrow. Crisp and cream and perfect for a lake wedding, the blue tie perfectly matching his eyes, the water, the Texas sky; all things that Alex loves, that Henry’s come to hold so close to his heart.
Henry and Alex emerge from their changing rooms at the same time, and every single thought Henry’s ever had in his entire miserable life immediately exits his brain stage left. Slate wiped completely clean, not a trace of life to be found. All functioning brain cells are redirected to maintaining a semblance of control over his faculties as he battles the dryness of his mouth at the sight of Alexander Claremont-Diaz in a blue suit that should not fit him as well as it does, accentuating his strong shoulders and needlessly toned physique—when does he get the bloody time?—in a way that is, frankly, indecent. It’s a suit off the rack, for crying out loud. It should not fit.
But it does. And now he’s expected to speak in front of Alex’s family and be decent and somehow composed in a way that doesn’t give himself away immediately.
Alex seems like he’s experiencing something rather similar.
He looks Henry up and down, eyes flashing. “Okay. Okay. I like this one. I really like this one. Yep. Yes.” He accentuates each word with a sharp nod.
Henry clears his throat. “Likewise. The cut of yours is quite nice.”
“Only quite? Maybe I need to step it up.”
“No,” Henry says a little too quickly. “No, I think it’s perfect.” He can feel the tips of his blasted ears reddening.
Alex’s eyes trace over Henry appraisingly, from the top of his head to the tip of his toes. It warms him from the inside out, spreading through his body like a wildfire.
“Sorry to bulldoze, but if you don’t wear this tomorrow, I’m going to fling myself into the lake. In a really unsexy, dramatic, life-threatening way. There will be flailing. So jot that down.”
Henry laughs, loud and open. “No need. This is my favorite.”
“Oh, thank God,” Alex sighs. “I was ready to fight.”
They step outside into the waiting area to a chorus of yes! and how handsome and these are it, thank goodness and oh, mijo. Ellen and June are misty-eyed, Nora is grinning widely, Leo is rightfully smug, and even Oscar has a helpless smile on his lips.
Alex bows and pulls Henry back to the stall, unceremoniously pushing him inside and following, locking the door behind him. His eyes are a little wild, dark around the edges. Henry doesn’t even get a chance to ask what he’s doing before Alex is pulling him in, a strong hand on the back of Henry’s neck as he kisses Henry with a thoroughness and determination that leaves Henry feeling untethered. Henry kisses him back, pouring all the words he can’t say into the move of his mouth against Alex’s, slips in secret confessions with every swipe of his tongue.
“Is this a preview for tomorrow?” Henry asks when they break apart, a little breathless.
“And the next day. And the day after that. And—”
“Christ.” Henry pushes Alex away with a firm hand on his chest. He is weak, and Alex is unfairly gorgeous, and they are in public. “We should get going.”
“What if we didn’t?” Alex goes to kiss him again, but Henry stops him.
“Everyone is waiting for us to change!”
“What if we're really quiet, it's near empty anyway—”
Henry sighs deeply, feeling his resolve crumble with every blink of Alex’s criminally long eyelashes. “You are an insatiable, unmitigated demon.”
Alex waggles his eyebrows. “Is that a yes?”
“I am not doing anything untoward in a changing room with your family mere meters away!”
The pout of Alex’s mouth is distracting. “It's your legal obligation—”
“Alex, you cannot paint every action as a legal obligation when you want something!”
“Don't be f*cking boring, Henry.”
Henry hisses, “Decorum—”
He’s cut off by a rather chaste press of Alex’s lips. Alex smiles into their kiss, mouth curved against Henry's. It's painfully charming.
“Sorry, that was my consolation prize. I've always wanted to do that to you. Couldn't help myself.”
Henry laughs. “What, shut me up?”
“Like that, yeah.”
“Well. It's effective.” Alex's ears are red. “But do not make a habit of it, I can only be silenced so many times before I get frustrated,” Henry jokes. He doesn’t think he could ever be angry with Alex, certainly not for this.
Alex looks giddy. “Even better. Angry Henry is hot.”
“Pardon?”
“You heard me. When you were ripping Hunter a new one the other day, I swear I was getting sweaty all over. Kinda wanted to drag you into a spare office by your tie at that moment.”
Henry blinks. “Ah. I thought you were just worked up about the board meeting and the impending gallery of insufferable arseholes.”
Alex's eyes are a little unfocused. “Yeah, well. They don't do it for me like you do.”
Henry grins, ready to needle. “Me exercising authority gets you going?”
Alex swallows. “Um.”
“Is it the tone of voice? Or the glare, perhaps? Is it a need to impress, seeking approval?”
At this, Alex lets out the smallest of strangled noises. “Shut up,” he says.
He doesn't sound very well, poor thing. This does put a lot of the past two years into perspective, Henry admits. He takes a second to rearrange his mental Cabinet of Alex Facts, slotting in Authority Kink after the folder labeled Absurd Coffee Consumption. He slides Competency Kink between Chronic Overachiever and Compulsive Need for Praise.
His ego has truly never felt more boosted. “Hm. Noted,” he nods, feeling entirely too self-satisfied.
A voice calls out from the waiting area, “Are y’all done being grossly cute and sh*t, or can we get going? June’s being so chill right now—love you, babe, you’re so strong—but I know she’s going to literally gnaw off her own arm if we don’t get something to eat soon.”
Alex rolls his eyes. “Jesus, Nora. Give us five minutes.”
“You can have three. Chop, chop, loverboy.”
Henry tries not to smile at how Alex’s cheeks tinge at that. He fails. Alex shoves him into his changing room with a laugh. “I literally hate you. Go.”
They change, and Leo grabs their suits before Henry can protest.
“Please, I can get the suits,” Henry pleads. It’s his plan, after all. It’s his fault. “Allow me.”
“Don’t bother. She’ll kill you, and she’ll be smiling while she does,” he says simply. Henry’s chest tightens as he nods, and Leo nods once with a smile and heads off to find Ellen, suits in hand.
💍💍💍💍💍
Back at the lake house, full from barbecue and exhausted from fending off Alex’s increasingly lewd remarks (“One day I’m going to lick the sauce off your face, mark my words.”), Henry’s ready for a lie down. He and Alex are about to head to their room when Ellen’s voice carries through the kitchen. He turns the corner to find her, eyes shining.
“Henry, do you have a minute?” Ellen asks, leaning against the kitchen island. She waves Alex off, who makes himself scarce with a squeeze of Henry’s bicep.
“For you, always.”
She smiles, crooked and honest. “I have something for you.” She reaches for Henry’s palm and places a pair of cufflinks in his hand. “Here’s your something borrowed for tomorrow.” She places her hands around Henry’s, holding him gently. “These have been in my family for a few generations now. If you’re comfortable with it, I would love for you to wear them.” She pulls away her hands, eyes expectant and eyebrows raised.
Henry runs his fingers over the gold, eyes burning. This is an act of kindness he’s not used to. “I—this is so kind, I can’t possibly—”
“You can. I know it would make Alex so happy, too.” She knows how to exploit his weaknesses. A politician through and through. “Now, I’m not one to impose tradition, but—”
“I’ll wear them,” Henry interjects. “They’re lovely. Thank you.” He only has a moment to pocket the cufflinks before he’s suddenly pulled into a tight hug.
“I’m sorry your whole family couldn’t be here today, sugar. But I hope you know you’re our family now as well. We’ve got you.” Her embrace is soothing, and Henry exhales into her arms, willing his eyes to behave and not reveal the depth of emotion swimming behind them. Ellen lets him go and pats him on the shoulder. “Now go take a nap. It’s been quite the morning, and you two deserve a day of rest. We’ll take care of everything for tomorrow.”
“I appreciate all the kindness and generosity you and your family have shown me and Alex this weekend. Truly, words are not enough.” Henry’s eyes are burning and he knows Ellen can see how they’re glistening.
“I know,” Ellen says. “That’s why you don’t need to say anything at all.”
Henry hopes his eyes convey what words can’t. He gives Ellen one last grateful smile before heading back to Alex.
Alex is on the bed, arms behind his head as he stares at the ceiling. His face lights up when Henry walks in.
“All good?”
“Yes.” Henry doesn’t elaborate. The cufflinks will be a nice surprise, he thinks.
“Okay,” Alex responds, smiling. “She really likes you, you know. Everyone does.”
Henry gets on the bed, lying down next to Alex. They turn to face each other, hands resting between them, pinkies side by side. He doesn’t reply, and Alex doesn’t push him to. He simply taps Henry’s pinkie with his own, a silent acknowledgment. Alex has always been able to read between Henry’s lines, pick up what Henry’s not saying but conveying with body language; it’s what makes him so phenomenal at his job. It’s no surprise that it translates into his personal life as well. Henry was never meant to stand a chance.
He watches as Alex’s eyes flutter shut, eyelashes fanning over his cheeks. He looks so serene, the frenetic energy usually coursing through his body now still and silent. Alex at work is a formidable beast, focused and detail-oriented and painfully competent. Diligent. Funny. Sharp.
Here, he’s softer. An exquisite creature, multifaceted and enthusiastic and so incredibly captivating; languid movements and slow-blinking eyes and loaded stares and soft smiles.
Henry closes his eyes. Alex is the last thing on his mind before he drifts off into a dreamless sleep.
💍💍💍💍💍
Henry wakes three hours later to his phone’s alarm, mouth dry and a spot of drool on the pillow. He wipes at it ineffectually, the mark extremely obvious, before quickly flipping the pillow over. No spot, no crime. Next to him, Alex groans from the movement.
“How long until we have to go to the airport?” Alex asks, sleep lacing each word.
Henry checks the time. “Twenty minutes.” Pez and Bea’s plane is bound to land soon.
“Perfect. Wake me up in ten.” Alex curls back into himself, eyes already shutting.
“I’ll get us some water,” Henry says, climbing out of bed.
“Please and thanks,” Alex mumbles into the pillow.
Henry is barely turning the corner towards the kitchen when he hears agitated voices arguing. He stops behind the wall, listening as Ellen lays into Oscar, her words slowly gaining volume and speed.
“I don’t care if you think it’s too fast. You’ve always been hard on him for his choices, and—”
“And what, you haven’t? You ask him every time you see him if he’s happy and fulfilled, as if that isn’t equally patronizing!”
Ellen lets out a frustrated huff. “I’ve never faulted him for his job the way you have.” Her tone is accusatory, and Henry can almost picture the finger she’s probably pointing at Oscar right now.
Oscar’s derisive snort echoes in Henry’s ears. “Sure, Ellen. That’s some real f*ckin’ spin right there.” He sighs, tone softening. “I just want him to be happy too. I know I’m hard on him, but I just want him to live up to his potential, you know? He’s such a bright kid. Right now he just seems like he’s…” He trails off, searching for the right word. “Stagnant? Frustrated?” He fills in the damning blanks, each word hitting Henry square in the sternum.
“To you, maybe. But I really think he’s found his footing. Even if we think it’s a little unconventional.” She clicks her tongue. “I always try to ask him how he’s doing, and he just dodges the question every time.” Her sigh mirrors Oscar’s, defeated and resigned. “I think we’ve made our son feel like he can’t be honest with us.”
Oscar’s voice is aggrieved. “By asking him if he’s okay? If he’s doing what he thinks is right?”
“He’s doing what he thinks is right for him. And he seems much happier right now, you have to admit. He’s practically bouncing off the walls.”
“I don’t know, Ellen. First, he completely switches fields. Then, you’re telling me he’s been secretly dating his boss, the guy who’s kept him on a tight leash for two years? Not a word to even June or Nora, who they see every day? Why would he do that? It doesn’t make sense.”
“I know it seems a bit…rushed. But if we push him on this, we might lose him. He’ll just dig in his heels and fight. Or worse, run.” Her voice is a little quiet, sad. “He’s stubborn. I wonder where he got it from.”
Henry has never felt more wretched. His neck prickles in embarrassment. God, they really must think he’s such an arsehole.
“f*ck,” Oscar says. “No, you’re right. You ease up on the whole purpose angle, and I’ll stop asking him to come work for me, although he’d be such an asset—”
“Oscar.”
“Starting now.”
“And you’re going to be more supportive of him and Henry. Please.”
“Fine. It still doesn’t sit quite right with me, but I’ll try. I’ll never understand how they got together.”
Ellen laughs. “You know Alex. Once he has his eyes set on something, he’s going to get it, come hell or high water.” She pauses, her tone a little contemplative as she slowly exhales. “I trust his judgment. And Henry’s been nothing but polite and lovely. I have no issues.”
Henry wrings his hands, feeling equal parts shame for eavesdropping and guilt for how he’s slowly pulled Alex away from his family, his support system. He knows Alex came to New York for a reason, knows Alex is excellent at his job. But is he holding Alex back somehow? And, after everything Alex shared about how June and Nora were glued to his side during law school, has Henry practically held June and Nora hostage too, forcing them to keep a watchful eye on Alex at House of Okonjo—interfering with their dreams as well? Now, with this whole predicament, is he binding Alex to a future he doesn’t truly want, and absolutely doesn’t deserve?
He shakes his head, doing his best to clear his rapidly spiraling thoughts, and turns back to go wake Alex up. The water can wait.
Alex is coming out of the restroom when Henry gets back, looking rested and ready to go. He gives Henry a small smile.
“Ready?”
Henry nods and Alex jangles his keys as they head to the Jeep. Ellen and Oscar are no longer arguing, thankfully. A flash of something goes through Henry, an emotion he can’t immediately identify, but it sits heavy in his stomach, making his throat close up and eyes burn. He blinks rapidly, hoping the angst fades as they make their way to Pez and Bea.
💍💍💍💍💍
Alex’s fingers are tapping against the wheel, curls flying in the wind. He’d queued up his driving playlist at the start; “Highway to Hell” filters through the speakers, the guitar riffs a steady and comforting sound. Something in Henry’s chest aches at the sight of Alex looking so young and boundless and effortless; the sunglasses perched on his nose and white t-shirt clinging to his body making him look like a classic Hollywood daydream.
The song ends and, rather abruptly, transitions to “Shut Up and Drive” by Rihanna.
“Question,” Henry asks.
“Hit me.”
“Is your driving playlist entirely songs about cars and roads?”
Alex snorts. “Is that judgment I detect? From the man who just asked me who sang “Life Is a Highway” not even ten minutes ago?”
Henry sniffs. “I’m sorry my country music knowledge isn’t as vast as yours.”
“Watch it,” Alex warns. “There’ll be no country music slander in my good Texan Jeep.”
They nod their heads and tap their feet to the rest of the song, a winsome smile on Alex’s face. Henry traces an invisible finger down Alex’s silhouette, something catching in his throat.
“Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol coming on may be Henry’s last straw, though.
“Well, this is a bit abrupt,” Henry mutters. “Certainly a shift in mood.”
“You sit in my car, listen to my songs, put a ring on my finger and then have the audacity to insult the ultimate Grey's Anatomy song?”
“The ring is on my finger, but go on.”
Alex turns the volume dial up. “Sorry, I can’t hear you over one of the most iconic ballads to hit 2000s cable television.” His grin is infectious. “Now shut up and give it the respect it deserves.”
Henry shuts up.
He angles himself to watch the landscape roll by, the wind caressing his face as he closes his eyes, his mind playing a highlight reel of the last few days.
The way Ellen welcomed him into her home without question. The way Alex’s family and friends accepted him, knowing full well his place in Alex’s life, the stress he’s apparently caused him over the last few years. The way Alex’s past and present collided this weekend, resulting in Henry feeling more than he’s allowed himself in recent memory, ranging from surprise to jealousy to vulnerability. The way he and Alex expressed mutual feelings, an act Henry never thought possible or remotely in reach. The way it felt to wear a wedding suit, to see the emotions shining in Alex’s eyes at the sight. The way the cufflinks symbolized a piece of Alex’s past tethered to Henry’s future, inextricably linking the two in the most sincere, steadfast way.
Then, the more complicated bits. The way Alex’s parents care about him in their own ways, their cutting words and fierce emotions stemming from a fear of losing him entirely. The way Henry felt at the realization that he played a part in giving Alex’s family grief. The way he’s been surrounded by so much love, yet so alone.
Henry plays with his sleeve, eyes hot as he thinks of his dad, and how excited he would have been to help Henry buy his wedding suit. How thrilled he would have been to meet Alex, to maybe give Alex and Henry something borrowed as well. How much he would have enjoyed blending with Alex’s family, integrating his mother and brother and sister seamlessly into the fabric, until Henry’s heart was near bursting with love. He yearns to have his mother back, whole and vibrant and present.
He realizes that not many people in his life have been present for him. They’ve floated around him, passed right through him, left him; he can count on one hand how many have stayed.
God, the last time he felt this much was when he was heartsick over a decade ago, experiencing a loss like no other, feeling his heart crack and splinter, the fissure too much for him to bear. A fragile, perfidious thing, his heart. So, he tries not to use it too much, lest it split right open, bloody and bruised and out in the open, unprotected and sensitive; hides it under layer after layer of ice and stone, rigid and determined. Safe.
Well, he tried.
Now, he’s in too deep. Pulled under by the magnetic force of Alex Claremont-Diaz and his unruly curls and his penchant for holding Henry accountable and his endless honey-brown eyes. Drowning in the feeling of being seen and cared for and—
“Sweetheart? Everything okay?” Alex asks, voice tinged with concern.
“I forgot what it was like to have a family.” Henry sucks in a sharp breath. Christ, well. Now it’s out there in the open. He juts out his chin as he turns in his seat to face a worried-looking Alex, his brows furrowed.
Alex is silent, wordlessly nodding for him to continue.
“I've been fighting the current since I was eighteen, Alex. I forgot what it was like to have people who love you and make you eggs for breakfast. People who care about you and want to hold your hand and share their secrets and safeguard yours. How it felt to have a home not full of isolation and festering resentment and fear, but of care and trust and endless conversation.”
Alex’s fingers are tapping the wheel faster now.
Henry forges on, voice cracking. “You have all of that here, in Austin. You have a family who loves you and wants the best for you. You have friends who care about you—Nora, Liam. And you yourself said June and Nora went to New York to keep an eye on you.”
“But you know I can’t come back here. You know why I moved to New York, why I went to work for you and Pez.”
“Yes,” Henry replies, frustrated that he doesn’t know how to make Alex understand. “But I don’t want to be holding you back from your family and friends. I can’t.” He won’t be the reason Alex’s relationship fractures with his father, or splinters with his mother, or weakens with his sister. Henry would give everything to have one with his father again, to see his mother light up once more, to feel accepted by all of his siblings and not just Bea.
Suddenly, the Jeep is pulling over, coming to an abrupt stop. Henry’s neck snaps towards Alex, incredulous. There’s a determined expression on his face, hands balled up into fists and pressing into his thighs.
“You believed in me when I didn’t even believe in myself. I’m not going to let you sit here and sh*t on yourself for a decision I made, a choice that I felt was right for me.” He shakes his head, mouth pressed into a tight line. “It may have started off a little rocky, but we’ve found our groove. Nora, June, and I are happy in the city. I finally feel like I have an idea of where my life is headed. sh*t makes sense now.” He gestures forcefully, punctuating each word with a swish of his hand, as if trying to beam his thoughts directly into Henry’s brain.
“And you’re happy with where you’re at right now?” Henry holds his breath, looking down at his hands in his lap, taking in his frayed cuticles. He's afraid to know the answer but he needs to know it, desperately.
Alex reaches one hand towards Henry’s hands, grasping them firmly, the warmth seeping into Henry’s bones. Another hand gently tilts Henry’s chin up and towards him.
“Yes,” he says, the conviction in his voice knocking Henry sideways. “You gave me purpose. A chance to carve out my own space. My issues with my family are not on you. Their actions are not on you. House of Okonjo is my home now, and it’s a damn good one. Don’t doubt that for a f*cking second.”
Henry chews on his bottom lip, and Alex grasps Henry’s jaw, freeing Henry’s lip from his teeth with his thumb, a gentle pressure.
“I just…I hope I haven’t contributed to any woes between you and your parents.” The guilt is slowly eating away at his insides, the guilt over his iron grip being the cause of strife.
“I mean, I’ve complained about the rod up your spine and the stick up your ass enough for them to be a little biased, yeah, but I think they get why I had to leave. Even if it’s not what they would have done.” Alex sighs. “Listen. I meant every f*cking word I said last night. Working for you has let me chart my own path. That’s important to me. After everything I’ve been through…that means more to me than you’ll ever know. Learning from you has been the single best f*cking experience of my life—late nights and egregious phone calls included.”
Henry laughs, watery and acquiescent. This man is going to end him, and Henry will welcome it with open, desperate arms. Hopeless.
“Well, I meant every word too. I’m glad I could help you find your way. You’re—that’s important to me, too.”
Alex beams delightedly at him, and the Texas sun shies away from the force of it all, sky immediately going cloudy to make room. It can’t even begin to compare.
“Are you done spinning the mental wheels? Can we go scoop my boss and your sister now? They must be f*cking exhausted.”
“Yes, let’s.”
They drive the rest of the way in comfortable silence, songs filling the empty space between them. The pressure in Henry’s chest slowly eases up as they approach the airport. The playlist changes to “Fast Car” and he lets the dulcet tones of Tracy Chapman lull him gently into a trance:
And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged
I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone.
💍💍💍💍💍
Henry spots a familiar buzzed head, currently dyed a deep blue, and a comforting brown ponytail, making their way outside, suitcases and—is that a dog carrier?—in tow. His question is answered when Pez and Bea stroll up and Henry hears a familiar bark.
Pez gives Alex a genial hug and greets with him a “Alexander, babes” while Bea launches herself into Henry’s arms without fanfare; the bone-crushing hug she gives him having never felt more welcome. She wraps her arms around Henry and holds on tight, rocking side to side.
“God, it’s been ages,” Bea says. “I’ve missed you terribly.”
“Me too,” Henry whispers, a bit overwhelmed yet comforted by the presence of his sister. “I’m so happy you’re here.”
She pulls back, only to smack him in the arm with an unnecessary amount of force.
He rubs his smarting arm with a frown. “Now what the hell was that for?”
“That was for keeping this huge secret from me! All those times you moaned about Alex, and you never—”
Henry elbows her in the side and she coughs. “Alright, that’s enough from you.”
“I was wondering the same thing, Hazza,” Pez chimes in with a smirk. “I reckon it wasn’t a surprise to you either, Bea, but—”
Henry kicks him in the shin with no remorse.
Next to Henry, Alex is listening to them intently, eyebrows raised, a little smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
Henry makes brief introductions before any more incriminating sentences can leave anyone’s mouths. Bea is ecstatic to meet Alex, giving him a big hug and a roguish grin. Alex pulls away from her with a similar smile, and Henry knows they’ll get along just fine.
“All those times, huh?” Alex whispers teasingly.
Henry pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do not.”
Thankfully, a little bark diverts everyone’s attention from Henry’s long-standing, embarrassing, unprofessional infatuation.
“He wanted to join the party!” Pez exclaims, pulling David out of his carrier and attaching his lead. David sidesteps Pez and immediately jumps on Henry, little cracks in Henry’s heart starting to instantaneously heal over. He needed this.
“Oi! After all the gourmet dog treats and designer toys you’ve enjoyed in your life, this is the thanks I get?” Pez jokes. He laughs as Henry crouches down to greet his favorite little man.
“Who’za good lad? That’s my good boy, my best boy, oh yes,” Henry coos, scratching behind David’s ears as he bounces excitedly. David then moves to Alex, sniffing at his feet, then looking up expectantly. Alex crouches down and pets him happily. Over Alex’s head, Bea and Pez give Henry matching smirks.
“Shall we?” Alex asks, beckoning them to the Jeep. “I want to hear all about your trip.”
They load up the car and begin their drive back to the lake, Pez regaling them with stories of champagne and David charming the flight attendants on Pez’s plane. Bea shares tidbits from the mystery novel she read on the flight (“A bloody awful twist, what a waste of time!”) and Alex gives her some recommendations (“How do you feel about sci-fi thrillers?” “Favorably.”).
Henry listens to everyone chatting amiably with a small smile and a flicker of pride. He realizes, with a start, that everyone he cares for, everyone who’s ever cared for him in recent memory, is in this car.
The thought carries him, buoys him in a rare sort of peace, until they reach the house. This quietude, however cherished, is short-lived.
💍💍💍💍💍
Oscar and Ellen graciously allowed Pez, Bea, and David to stay at the lake house in a spare room, a fact Henry makes sure to thank them profusely for. Once everyone is settled in their rooms and sleeping off the travel, Alex asks Henry if they want to go on a walk with David before grabbing dinner with Nora and June.
When they head to grab David, Henry notices that Oscar is speaking to someone in polite tones at the front door, and when the mystery person turns, it knocks the wind completely out of him. Next to him, Alex makes a sound like he’s been punched. Henry can unfortunately relate.
Agent Zahra Bankston is standing in front of them with a grin that can only be appropriately described as predatory. Henry’s future slips through his fingertips as her smile gets wider.
“Surprise! I was just telling Alex's father here how thrilled I was to get an invite! It's not every day that I get to see my favorite coworkers get married!” Her grin grows. “I thought I’d come say hello before turning in for the evening, see how things were going.”
Ah, so that's her angle. Henry’s stomach turns. He forces a smile on his face, ready to play his part.
Alex clears his throat and reaches for Henry, his hand slightly clammy. “So happy you could make it, Ag—”
Henry squeezes Alex's hand as tightly and discreetly as possible.
“—ah, Zahra. Zahra Bankston. Our coworker, Zahra. Henry’s peer and my favorite person, Zahra—”
“We are so grateful to have friends joining us for our big day tomorrow. Thank you for making the trip on such short notice, Zahra.” Henry cuts Alex off before he can ramble his way into a jail cell. They cannot afford an eleventh hour crumbling of the plans. “If you’ll excuse us, our dog seems to be missing.” He drags Alex off by the bicep back to their room, locking the door behind him. Henry drags a hand down his face, summoning the strength to work through this.
Meanwhile, Alex starts to pace, hand running through his hair in frustration. “What the f*ck is she doing here?”
Henry sighs, massaging his temples. “I guess we should have expected this. She did tell us she’d dig deep.”
“Yeah, but not like this! Not as a guest at our f*cking wedding!” Alex picks up the pace, hands waving frantically. “Do you think we’re in the clear? f*ck, Henry. f*ck,” he emphasizes.
Henry strides over, grasping Alex by the shoulders so he doesn’t pace a hole into the ground. “Alex. Look at me.”
Alex is looking at his fists as they clench and unclench. Henry can almost see the little crescent moons left in his palms.
“Alexander, please.”
At that, Alex’s head snaps up.
Henry fixes his gaze on Alex, steady and sure. “We will be fine,” he says. “Your family is excited. Your friends have observed us. The whole bloody neighborhood is enamored. We’ve done our jobs. You have done a wonderful job.” He squeezes Alex’s shoulders, feeling the tense muscles under his fingers. “You are perfect. We will be absolutely fine tomorrow and the day after that.”
Alex exhales shakily. “Okay. Yeah, we’ve done our due diligence. People love us. Bartenders are obsessed with us. We know the mundane details about each other.” He smiles unsteadily. “I even know your curtains are light grey.”
Henry gives him a reassuring smile in return. “And yours are a very specific blue.”
Alex squeezes one eye shut, cringing. “God, don’t remind me. It makes me sound obsessed.”
His heart does an unfortunate little dance. “Would you think less of me if I said I found it incredibly endearing?”
Alex glares at him from underneath his eyelashes. It's very distracting. “And you expect me not to jump your bones at that?”
Henry’s answering smile is loaded with intention. “Patience is a virtue, my dear.”
💍💍💍💍💍
Later that evening, dinner is a wonderful—and blessedly sober—affair, all his favorite people crowded into a booth, swapping raucous stories and poking good-natured fun at Alex and Henry. Alex takes it all in and dishes it right back, sharing a frankly embellished version of Henry firing Hunter (“I was about to make popcorn for real,” Nora shares. June agrees.). Henry doesn’t think he was that stern, but Alex’s red ears remind him of their conversation earlier while shopping. Oh. Right.
His mouth twitches as he tries to keep the smug expression off his face; he fails miserably.
Pez ribs Alex for his reaction, which results in Alex throwing a fry at his face that Pez effortlessly catches with his mouth, which then ends up in a fry-off. Henry catches one fry, June two, Nora three, Alex three (he insists the one that bounced off his lip counts), and Pez four. Bea wins with five, the surprise of the night. Alex jokes that he’s finally found something Henry’s bad at, which gets a knowing laugh out of Pez and a pointed glare from Henry.
Once they’re full and back home and everyone bids a good night, with hugs exchanged and good wishes shared for the big day ahead, Alex proposes one last nighttime jaunt by the water to Henry.
So now, they’re back at the lake, water glittering as it reflects the constellations above, shoulder to shoulder on the bench like last night, their steady breathing the only thing drifting through the silence.
Henry looks up, taking in the stars dotting the inky black, sparkling and shining and giving him hope he hasn’t dared to feel in an unfathomable amount of time. Sometimes the loneliness that permeates his life feels as vast as the night sky itself, as crushing as the vacuum of space. Pez begs him time and time again to go out, to experience the NYC nightlife with him, to simply live a little. But there’s always something holding Henry back, something nebulous and a little dark tethering him to his desk and his brownstone and his mundane existence. Day in, day out, a routine to keep him stable, methodical, even-keeled. If he allows himself even a second to deliberate, the wave of thoughts might pull him under completely.
Some days, they do. When they sneak up unexpectedly, they’re marked in his calendar with a gray box simply labeled Sick Day, a subtle indicator of a desire to be left well enough alone.
Alex never, ever messages those days. Henry tells him he’s allowed to text if there’s an emergency, but every time, without fail, Alex responds with, “We’re not saving lives here. Unless there’s blood and guts, I’m not texting you, Henry.”
And every time Henry comes back to work the next day, Alex hands him his tea and biscuits with a “Glad to see you’re feeling better.” Merciful acceptance.
Alex knows why Henry retreats, and Henry knows how he knows. After the first instance of flowers, he immediately went to Pez, brandishing the card attached and asking him how the hell Alex Claremont-Diaz knew about Arthur’s birthday. When he received another bouquet of white flowers on his desk on the anniversary of Arthur’s death, he didn’t question it. They never spoke about it either, which Henry is eternally thankful for. He isn’t sure how he would have handled that conversation. All he could muster the first time was a sentence thanking him sincerely, hoping desperately that the enormity of his gratitude swirling in his traitorous heart would come across.
He decides to fill the silence. “It’s nice to be able to actually spot the stars out here. I rarely get to see Orion these days.”
Alex nods. “Yeah, New York isn’t really the best for stargazing, unfortunately.”
Henry smiles, tiny and private, the curve of his mouth a secret between him and the constellations. “I couldn’t in New York, but I can see things a lot more clearly here. It’s…illuminating, for sure.”
Alex hums contentedly. “I bet.” He bumps Henry’s shoulder with his own. “Hey, fancy a swim?”
“At this hour?” Henry asks, incredulous. “We’re not even appropriately dressed.”
Alex raises his eyebrows suggestively, and Henry swats his arm. “Absolutely not, we are not—”
“Skinny dipping? Yes, yes we are.” With this, Alex rises, pulling off his shirt in a smooth motion, his shorts following suit. He thumbs at his boxers with a sly grin. “Are you coming, or are you just gonna keep ogling me?”
Henry keeps his eyes trained on Alex’s face, pointedly ignoring the way he sheds the rest of his clothes. He’s stronger than Alex thinks.
“You are insufferable,” Henry breathes. Sod it. He strips, leaving his boxers on to maintain a shred of decency, and follows Alex to the dock, doing his level best to not shamelessly stare at Alex’s arse. His eyes only fall twice in the ten steps to the dock. Maybe he’s not as strong as he thought. Maybe he never was.
“It’s not me who has to reattach his jaw to his face,” Alex teases before jumping into the lake with a cannonball. Henry watches Alex go under and bob up with a laugh and a swipe of his hair off his face, looking every inch a wet temptation. He looks at Henry and his face twists into one of indignation. “You’re still wearing your boxers? Are you f*cking kidding me?”
“A man should have some element of mystery,” Henry says solemnly. “I enjoy seeing you squirm every time you think you’ll get a peek.”
Alex huffs. “You’re such a goddamn tease.” He eyes Henry’s hip bone with a renewed gleam in his eye. “I’m coming for you, mystery tat. Just you wait.” He swims in place, smiling to himself.
Henry shuts his eyes for a second, branding this image in his mind: Alex, carefree and laughing in the lake. Alex, hair sprinkled with starlight and face illuminated by the moon. Alex, looking up at Henry with an unearned softness in his gaze.
Alex, his loyal assistant, risking his livelihood to preserve Henry’s. Alex, his ardent friend, trusting him with his innermost thoughts. Alex, his dutiful fiancé, the man he’s going to marry in fourteen hours.
Alex, his.
The pressure behind Henry’s eyes builds at an alarming rate. He squeezes his eyes once, twice, before opening them to the sight of Alex treading water patiently. Henry swan dives into the water with a grace the occasion doesn't call for, earning him a grumble from Alex.
“f*ckin’ show-off.”
“I will not apologize.”
“Fair enough.”
Alex grabs Henry’s hand and floats on his back, looking up with a content smile. Henry does the same, pointing out Orion to Alex when he asks. Explains all the stars (“No way Betelgeuse is an actual name of a star, Henry. You just made that sh*t up.” “You must know I did not.”), tells him about his first telescope from his father, shares bits and pieces he’s kept hidden behind lock and key.
“Tell me about him?” Alex asks quietly.
Henry clears his throat. “Well, he was—” He takes a deep breath, eyes focused on Rigel, the brightest star in Orion. “He was brighter than any star I’ve ever seen. Warm, kind, loving. No matter how busy he was, he always made time for his family. He was so committed. God, he was incredible. Fought until the bitter end, too.” Henry laughs wetly, and Alex holds his hand a bit tighter, grounding Henry in the moment. “He was, above all, a fighter. But he radiated love.” He blinks at the stars, now a little blurry. “He loved my mother, so he fought for her. He loved his children, so he fought for us. Fought his body, my grandmother, societal expectations, all of it. And somehow managed to hold my hand through it all.”
Henry tells Alex of his parents, his mother the writer and academic, his father the stage actor, destined and determined to be together against his grandmother’s wishes. Paints the picture of a man both incredibly strong and deeply human, utterly resplendent yet so very fragile.
Alex pulls Henry closer, linking their arms together. “He sounds like a very brave man.”
“He was. He really was.” Henry never gets to talk to anyone about his father like this, save for Bea, Pez, David, and his therapist. It’s nice. Wonderful, actually.
Alex smiles gently, his eyes sliding over to Henry. “Yeah, I see where you got it from now.”
“What, bravery?” He hardly thinks he’s brave. He’s been a coward when it comes to Alex for two years now. He runs when he’s scared and retreats when he’s cornered.
“That too. But also your determination, your kindness. The way you command a room comes from him, definitely.”
Oh. Well, that’s just lovely, isn’t it? Henry’s chest tightens, throat thick. “Thank you, Alex.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Alex jokes, voice a little vulnerable. Henry can relate. “You’re still a boring f*cking asshole with no sense of color or whimsy.” He clears his throat. “But now I see past it, you know? I think—I think I see you better now. And I like what I see, for the record.” He goes back to floating in silence, letting the words hang between them. Henry turns them over in his head, fingers running over each letter in reverence.
“What about your dad?” Henry asks in response. He thinks back to the conversation he overheard earlier, the weight of Oscar’s words, the way he and Ellen sounded so…the only word Henry can think of, can pull from his extensive vocabulary, is scared. And maybe a little resigned.
Now it’s Alex’s turn to breathe deeply. “He’s so f*cking smart, H. He’s respected, and loved, and looked up to, and so insanely good at his job. He’s perceptive as hell too, which is probably why he’s been less than charming to you this time around.” Alex sighs. “I was afraid he’d see right through us. Instead, he just seemed disappointed yet again. Which somehow feels worse.” He inhales sharply. “I sometimes wonder if I’ll ever be good enough for him. For them.”
Henry rubs his thumb against Alex’s soothingly. “Believe me, I know how punishing it can feel to go against the family grain. I think he’ll come around though. Give them time.” He doesn’t tell Alex about the living room conversation; it would only make him feel worse. But he knows Oscar and Ellen are trying in their own shaky way, even if the process is painful and more than a little misguided at times.
Alex’s voice wavers, and Henry can hear his own heart crack. “I hope. I know they just want what’s best for me. But I want them to trust that I know that, too.”
“They will, I’m sure of it. And for the record, you’ve always been good enough. You do your best, and that’s all you can do. It is not your job to convince others of your worth,” Henry says fiercely, punctuating his words with a clench of his hand around Alex’s.
Alex is silent for a moment, and Henry’s afraid he’s grossly overstepped; inadvertently revealed his tender heart a little too much, laid bare his feelings a little too vulnerably.
Then: “Well, sh*t. Thank you.”
“Don’t get used to it,” Henry jokes. “You’re still a thistle in my arse crack.”
“Okay, but what a great ass indeed—”
Henry pushes him under the water, Alex’s laughter bouncing on the lake’s surface.
He wonders when everyone’s feelings started to shift and mold, to take form into something new and terrifying; the answer is too much for his poor heart to handle.
💍💍💍💍💍
Inside, Alex leaves Henry with a filthy kiss and a promise to keep his hands to himself until the morning. Ellen had made up the couch for Alex after they returned from dinner, telling them that sleeping apart was both a tradition and a test. Of what, Henry didn't want to know. But after enough grumbling, Alex relented.
Now, Henry's in bed alone, and his brain has decided it's time to deliberate. The enormity of the situation hits, crashing into him and pulling him under.
Henry realizes in a brief and painful flash that he’s not equipped to handle this the way he thought he was. Nothing about this is conventional, or rational, or real.
And yet. And yet and yet and yet: Alex’s family is able to offer the love he deserves, the love he’s missed from his own. Alex is able to offer Henry more affection and desire than he’s ever felt.
Henry’s scared. He’s in over his head, and Agent Zahra Bankston is waiting in the wings to catch him in a lie, and Alex’s parents probably think he’s a prick, and Alex thinks he’s everything. Somehow, after the ultimatums and blackmail and strong-arming and manipulation, Alex still cares so bloody much; Alex has always cared.
Henry’s scared. And not for the first time, he thinks maybe he’s not worthy of that care.
He pushes the thought down aggressively, shoving it into a dusty room and slamming the door shut. Futile exercise, though. It slips through the cracks, worming its way into Henry’s heart, making his palms sweat and molars ache. He curls under the covers, missing the warmth of Alex next to him, his presence always a stabilizing force.
The tide sweeps him under, dark and turbulent.
💍💍💍💍💍
The door creaks open around 2:17am, and Henry’s still awake.
Alex tiptoes inside and slips into the bed, molding his body behind Henry’s and releasing a deep breath, curling his shoulders into Henry's back with a sigh. It's more than a little scary how easily everything is slotting into place, how seamlessly integrated their lives could be if given a fighting chance.
“Can’t sleep,” Alex mumbles, his words laced with exhaustion, reverberating against Henry’s shoulder.
“Your mother will kill us if she finds out you’re in here,” Henry admonishes.
Alex is uncharacteristically silent. The air around them is at once thick, tense.
“Henry?” Alex whispers into the curve of Henry’s neck. “Are we good?”
No, Henry wants to say. No, because I’m one misstep away from the ground crumbling beneath my feet, one wrong move from dragging you down with me. No, because tomorrow you may hate me for what I’ve done, and the thought of that makes every inch of my heart ache.
“Yes, Alex.” Henry squeezes Alex’s wrist around his middle, before lifting it up to drop a featherlight kiss to Alex’s knuckles. “Go to sleep.”
“You go to sleep,” Alex retorts. “I can hear your brain from here.”
Henry adjusts to face him, Alex’s arm never leaving his side. “Go back to the couch. Tradition calls.”
“Ask me if I care.” His arm around Henry tightens.
In the darkness of the room, but a sliver of moonlight illuminating their faces, Alex’s eyes sparkle like Orion himself. Henry holds onto it, commits the way he’s gazing at Henry to memory, internalizes the slope of Alex’s nose and the dimple in his chin and the angle of his jaw and etches it into his ribcage to immortalize, the way Alex deserves, has always deserved. He itches to run his fingers through Alex's curls, feel them bounce and take shape underneath his fingertips.
Alex doesn’t move. Henry doesn’t ask him again.
