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Alex has always prided himself on his competitiveness. No, really. He enjoys the thrill that competition gives him, and he does his best to win, to get that rush that comes with being right, with achieving something. And he always takes great care that it doesn’t overwhelm things - things like, for example, his social life or his physical wellbeing. He can’t study for nights on end, he’s figured that out by now. Just like he won’t get people to get along with them when he’s constantly trying to one-up them. He knows these things. All in all, it’s stayed fairly healthy.
But. But then, the universe threw Henry fucking Fox at his feet, and things haven’t been the same since. He can still remember those blue eyes glaring up at him like it’s his fault Henry’s limbs are too long for him to properly coordinate them. And he remembers that Henry tried to get as far away from him as possible when he was trying to introduce himself and that he then proceeded to win the damn pub quiz like it was nothing. Alex has fostered a burning contempt for him ever since. He can’t believe that he didn’t know Mary Shelley carried around her dead husband’s desiccated heart with her, that’s so emo. But Henry knew, of course. Fucking English major.
Anyway, it’s not good. It might look okay from the outside, because they bicker a lot and know each other fairly well by now. But it’s not okay. Because Henry keeps beating Alex at the pub quiz. That’s what’s happening, very specifically. It’s not Henry’s team beating Alex’s team. Oh no. Two Queers and Alex as a whole gets along fairly well with Loud, Tired, and Not Okay , though Alex still hasn’t quite figured out which one of them is which. For a start, there’s four of them and only three adjectives. But Henry is to blame for the Oxford comma, that much he does know. And he’s also the member of the team who takes these quizzes the most seriously. As is Alex on his.
And it’s really fucking infuriating. It probably would be less so if, after they had publicly ripped each other apart, Henry would be willing to wind down with a drink or something, but he has made it quite clear that he thinks Alex is beneath him. So Alex has to content himself with quietly fuming at him across the bar. It never works out well. They try to stay away from each other - Alex does have some sort of self preservation instinct - but these evenings are crowded, and at some point, Alex always looks up to see Henry standing right in front of him. At which points the bickering starts. Like right now.
“Mary Shelley, huh? I wouldn’t have pegged you for the type of person who’d be interested in macabre little facts like that. It’s not very intellectual, is it?” It’s not his best material, but he has spent the last three days cramming for finals, so he thinks he can be forgiven.
Henry raises an eyebrow. “And I wouldn’t have pegged you as the kind of person to not know what the Magna Carta is. Shouldn’t aspiring politicians know that kind of thing? One would think they’d cover it in some kind of 101 course.”
And Alex has a scathing response on the tip of his tongue, thank you very much, but then Nora, who is still braiding June’s hair and not even looking at them, completely derails his train of thought.
“I would have pegged you. But I didn’t think you were ready for it back then.”
Then, two things happen at once. One: Alex just stops thinking. Two: Henry blushes a very vibrant shade of red. Alex knows this because he’s also frozen to the spot, and he’d been looking at Henry when Nora decided to open her stupid mouth. Which… what?
“Excuse me?”
Nora hums. “You were so responsive. I’m sure it would have been an absolute delight. What do you think, babe, is that better for puking later?”
At that point, Alex has to turn around, because she’s just not making sense. But then he sees June blearily inspect her newly acquired braid and nod, so that’s one line of questioning cleared up, at least. His sister has never been able to hold her liquor and tonight, she’d gotten smashed because some asshole at work kept trying to get her to go out with him and punching him in the face is sadly illegal. They’re gonna have to get her home soon if they don’t want to ruin their Uber rating. But also…
“What the fuck, Nora? What are you talking about?” He’s painfully aware that Henry is still standing right there. The knowledge dances across his skin like electricity.
Nora raises her head to glare at him. “Oh come on. You would not have taken that well, not with how insistent you are on being straight. I mean, Two Queers and Alex? Tell me that’s not the most no-homo shit you’ve ever heard of.”
Henry emits a soft snort from somewhere behind Alex’s right shoulder blade, but Alex is going to have to just deal with that later. Right now, he’s being attacked. “You’re the one who came up with the name!”
Nora rolls her eyes. “I came up with the very clever plan to propose the name and see what you would do. It was genius, I assure you. You were just too blind to pick up on it.”
That doesn’t even make half an ounce of sense. And Alex would know, he’s recently taken up baking and is starting to get really good with measurements. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He feels winded, as if he’s just run up a few flights of stairs. Which is stupid, because this isn’t affecting him, right? There’s no reason why it would. Alex is straight. Alex has always been straight. Nora should know, they had quite a lot of sex before they figured out that the rest of their attempt at a relationship was an absolute trainwreck. And not to toot his own horn or anything, but it was good sex. Nora had said as much.
Nora is starting to say something right now, but then, June whimpers, and her priorities shift rapidly. “Shit, babe, come on.” She heaves his sister out of the booth, slams a hand down over her mouth and drags her in the direction of the toilets. It’s efficient, if nothing else. Nora has never been known to be particularly gentle about anything.
Unfortunately, however, it leaves him here alone, his head swimming with about a billion unanswered questions and Henry right fucking there.
“What was that?” he asks himself.
Henry chuckles. “Well, it was certainly amusing, if nothing else.”
Alex turns around to glare at him. “Oh, I am so glad that this is entertaining to you. Always glad to be of service.” His head is buzzing, not only with the alcohol and the business around them, but also with confusion. What the fuck? It was almost like Nora had been waiting to do that.
Henry’s grin softens into a smile. “Hey, are you okay?”
“Do I look okay to you?” It’s probably a bit more aggressive than necessary, but then again, the alternative would be to answer honestly. And he can’t do that, can he? This is Henry. Henry is a fucking jerk every opportunity he gets.
But then, Henry slides into the booth opposite him, into the space Nora and June had just vacated. And he doesn’t look like a jerk. He looks… concerned? “You seem kind of rattled.” His hand hovers a bit, like he’s unsure what to do, but then he puts his beer down. Not even on a coaster, what a rebel.
“Excellent observation, Fox. Good to see that expensive English degree is paying off.”
Henry has the audacity to laugh. “Prickly as ever, I see. Well, at least she hasn’t managed to shock your personality out of you.”
That may be, Alex thinks, but she certainly has shocked him. He buries his head in his hands. “What the fuck was that?” He doesn’t even know who he’s asking. He’s not so sure that he wants Henry’s input on this. But Henry is here. And better Henry than Nora. Or Pez. Pez is… Well, he certainly puts the Loud into Loud, Tired, and Not Okay. Henry, as infuriating as he is, is not going to draw attention to this.
There’s a hum from across the table and he can see Henry draw patterns into the condensation on his glass. “Well, it was certainly pointed.”
Alex just groans. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t want to think about it. He’s straight. Right? He figured that out when… Oh. He didn’t, did he? He just assumed and went on with his life. Which, he thinks with dawning terror, might not have been the best thing to do. Because now he’s twenty two, sitting in a dingy bar opposite his pub quiz nemesis and realising that maybe jerking off with his best friend when he was a teenager might not have been the straightest thing to do. Fuck. Oh God, he’s stupid, isn’t he? He’s been a giant idiot about this.
“That explains why she kept insisting that you were flirting with me.”
Only when he hears Henry choke on his beer does he realise that he said that out loud.
“I’m sorry, she what?” Ales hates how he immediately registers how hoarse his voice is, and the way that his stomach twinges at the sound. What he hates even more than that is the fact that he recognizes the feeling. He’s previously categorised it as annoyance. But it isn’t, is it? Oh no.
“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”
But the pinched look on Henry’s face tells him that he’s going to be worrying about it a lot. Great. Can’t have anyone thinking that you’re trying to flirt with some brown boy who keeps beating you in pub quizzes, can you? Alex is vaguely aware that that’s probably unfair to Henry. His best friend is the most flamboyant black man Alex has ever laid eyes on. And Shaan isn’t white either. And on top of that, these quizzes have made it abundantly clear that Henry is up to date on most things social justice and bipoc and queer history. He’s an all-around good ally. Just like Alex thought he was.
Right now, the main problem is that Alex is out of quips. He’s completely out of energy in fact, it’s all been sapped. He wants to say something witty or acerbic, wants to make Henry angry. Anything to put something on his face that isn’t the current discomfort. Henry may be a dick to him most times, but Alex doesn’t want the guy to be uncomfortable with him. He doesn’t want anyone to be uncomfortable with him, ever. Unless his intellect or stunning good looks make them feel self conscious. That’s not on him.
But somehow, Henry already looks overwhelmed. The blue of his eyes is even more startling now that they’re open so wide, trained right at Alex. There’s a flush high on his stupid cheekbones. It makes Alex want to bite something. Which is probably also not a very straight thing to be feeling.
For a moment, they just sit there and stare at each other. It looks like Henry is chewing on the inside of his cheek, considering something. It makes his lips move only minimally, but Ale’s mouth still waters. Which sucks, because it feels definitive. That’s not a confused thought, it’s a bodily reaction. Alex knows about those. And it kind of freaks him out.
But before he can do something about it - like maybe insult Henry or drag him across the table and kiss him - Nora and June materialise next to the table.
“Look, I hate to cut this short,” Nora says, and Alex almost believes her with how harried she looks. “But she’s not puking right now, so we need to get her home asap.”
Alex feels weirdly drawn between falling at her feet to thank her and telling her to go away. But it only takes one look at the way his sister’s head is propped up on Nora’s shoulder for that tie to break. June is fucking obliterated. God, he hates the circumstances that brought them here. And the guy. Although to be fair, even his own parents seem to hate that guy. They named him Hunter. That’s just cruel.
He looks over at Henry again. “You gonna be okay?”
Henry looks conflicted, but he nods. “Of course. Go take care of her.” There’s a smile dancing around his eyes, but Alex resolutely doesn’t think about that because even just looking at it makes him sort of queasy.
He trips over his own feet on his way out of the booth, and the way Henry’s face lights up with a laugh sparks something in his stomach. God, he’s beautiful. Has he always been this beautiful? He has a sneaking suspicion that there are quite a few things he’s been blind to in the last few months that he’s known Henry.
“Right.” Alex was going to say something, he’s pretty sure. Like, close to ninety percent. But somehow, the words just get lost on the way to his mouth. Because Henry. This is getting to be a pattern.
Henry, for his part, smirks. “Hadn’t pegged you for the silent type, Diaz.”
In a second, Nora will shout for him to get his ass in gear, and he will desperately try to order his thoughts in the cool night air. But right now, he can only stare at Henry and feel some assumptions rearrange themselves in his head. Huh. Maybe Henry has been flirting with him.