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There has been a horrible lump in Alex’s stomach ever since he arrived at Kensington. It is just anxiety, he keeps telling himself, anxiety of dealing with the fucking royalty, but the pain never relents. It keeps getting worse and worse and by the time he is in the kitchen talking with Nora, he is visibly sweating and feeling nauseous, face green.
He is just about to tell Nora he’s gonna hit the sack and pop some Advil when he hears a rustling down the hall. He knows it can not be Princess Beatrice or Henry, they both live in different sections of the palace. He is just about to call out to whoever is coming here…
“Hold on.” he instructs Nora, covering the speakerphone. And his jaw practically hits the floor when he realizes it is Prince Henry wadding into the kitchen, hair all mussed from possibly tossing and turning, mouth open, yawning.
He looks so real, almost human, in a very soft looking gray T-shirt and plaid pajamas. The pitter patter of his bare feet can be heard clearly in the now otherwise silent kitchen. His steps come to an abrupt halt when his eyes land on Alex, watching him from where he’s perched on top of the kitchen counters.
The nausea he feels only strengthens, further supporting his hypothesis of it all being fucking stress induced. Because Henry has that kind of effect on him. Henry can rile him up by doing next to nothing, the urge he feels to poke and prod that fake, bland exterior is usually so strong, Alex always gets some kind of twist in his stomach anyways.
Upon realizing Alex’s presence, Henry’s stance straightens as an arrow, his chin jutting out a little, but even all these tiny pretentious precautions can not hide the bleariness of his eyes. “Sorry. Er, I was just. Cornettos.” he says gesturing to the fridge.
“What?” Alex asks as if any of it makes any fucking sense for him.
In two large strides Henry is in front of the fridge, pulling up a box of ice cream from the freezer. He turns the front of the box towards Alex, with pictures of cones and ”Cornetto” written. “I was out. I knew they stocked you up.”
This must be the longest non-hostile conversation he had with Henry at this point. Why hasn’t he realized how deep Henry’s voice was, up until now? How rounded his vowels are especially now that his accent is thicker with tiredness.
A sharp pain shoots through his abdomen, making him squirm a little. Alex’s eyes dart towards Henry who’s back is now turned to Alex, getting himself an ice cream cone. “Do you raid the kitchens of all your guests?” he asks.
“Only when I can’t sleep, which is always.” He looks at Alex, brows furrowed, making Alex feel self conscious like his pain and discomfort is visible, a separate entity sitting by him. “Didn’t think you’d be awake.”
Another pain, this time toward his side. When he manages to bring his attention back to Henry he realizes he’s being asked for permission. Weirdly thoughtful... Thinking through his options, his curious side weighs heavy over denying a prince of something, would be the first fucking thing he wanted but wouldn’t get.
Once he nods yes, Alex expects Henry to take the ice cream cones and leave but Henry looks at him, opens his mouth to say something and a horrible scream is heard, everything goes blurry, Alex can not tell up from down and all of a sudden it all goes black.
“Alex.”
“Alex?”
An angelic voice calls for him, cradling his face. Alex wants to let the voice soothe him, balm his scars, take the pain away. The fingers he feels on his face are soft, tender and he leans into them. The voice is still calling him, and there is a warmth spreading from his stomach. The heat starts low, simmering in his abdomen. Then it gets warmer and warmer, traveling up and Alex…
Well Alex is now throwing up on the kitchen floor while Henry is holding his shoulders, one hand gently going up and down on his back in a soothing motion, something he registers in the back of his mind. Then it all goes back to black again.
Fluttering his eyes open, Alex comes back to it. There is coolness spreading from his left arm and a weird pressure on his right hand, an incessant beeping in the background. He glances towards his left where the sound is coming from and is met with a heart monitor next to an IV tube. The liquid travels through the tube and right into his hand, the eerie coolness spreading through his body.
Huh? Must be at a hospital then. That explains all the white walls and the rest of the medical equipment. He slowly then turns to his right, wanting to further explore and he needs to open and close his eyes a few more times just to make sure he’s not fucking hallucinating…
A mop of blonde hair is resting on top of his right hand. And accompanying said hair is… well it’s fucking Henry. He is sitting by Alex’s bed in what must be an incredibly uncomfortable chair, holding Alex’s hand, his face on top of their joined hands. And he’s sleeping, restlessness not leaving him even in his sleep. One of his cheeks is squished, his own knuckles creating divots and for a brief second Alex thinks what would Henry look like with pillow creases on his face.
Dismissing the thought as fast as it came, Alex this time looks down at his own body in a hospital scrub, and slowly remembers what has happened. He was in the kitchen in the guest quarters, he was talking to Nora then Henry came in… The memory of the sharp pain comes back and he grimaces as he remembers throwing up as Henry soothed him.
And he remembers the angel, the voice that has called his name, told him he was going to be okay. The feeling of safety and warmth that accompanied the voice. Big strong hands cradling his face and brushing his cheeks. The angel sounded worried and Alex hated that through the darkness. Tired, he feels too tired to think so he lets sleep take him once more, dreaming about the touch of the angel.
The next time he wakes up is to hushed voices speaking somewhere not too further from him, he registers one of the voices as Henry and after hearing his own name, forces his brain to come online, catch some of the dialogue.
“You damn well know I can’t come home before he wakes up Bea.”
The other voice must belong to her then.
“I’m just worried about you Hen. This… this environment isn’t good for you. You’ve been here since bloody last night.”
Oh Henry was with him when he first woke up, right.
“Christ… I can’t leave him, Bea.”
“You really do care about him, don't you? Enough to trap yourself in hospital rooms once again.”
Okay Alex must clearly be hopped up on the good stuff because… What? Henry cares about him? Nah. No fucking way. Henry hates him. ’Can you get rid of him?’ Henry’s words echo in his head like yesterday, still hurting just the same. He closes his eyes and lets the rest of their conversation lull him into sleep, hoping to wake to something that does make sense.
The third time Alex wakes up, he looks around to see he’s alone in his room, still hooked up to an IV, machine dutifully beeping on his left. He does not feel disappointed that Henry is not there, not one fucking bit.
But he undeniably does, and it probably is the fault of those fucking British pain meds they’ve been giving him, messing up with his head and causing him to have very vivid dreams of cerulean eyes and sandy hair.
As if to sense his awakened status, Henry walks in seconds later and when his eyes land on Alex who is very much staring at him because what the fuck, Henry is wearing the same things he wore in Alex’s ‘Henry is sleeping on top of my hand’ dream, his face lights up like he is a kid given permission to have ice cream before dinner.
His facial expression shifts into something much more closeted in a millisecond but even with the pain meds and everything, the beaming smile he had is etched onto Alex’s memory now and he feels too tired to deal with all of that.
“You’re awake.” Henry says, walking towards the chair in the corner and Alex’s eyes shift towards the one that’s been pulled to by his bed.
“Astute observation.” His voice comes irritated even to his own ears, why is he upset that Henry is sitting further away when there is a literal chair Henry himself pulled closer to the bed.
Henry must think the irritation bleeding into his voice is due to pain because he immediately comes closer, his brows furrowed in concern. “Are you okay? Feeling any discomfort?”
There is an undertone to his expressions, to his voice Alex can not put his finger on but this Henry seems less- perfect? More, human? It feels like there are almost cracks to his perfect veneer and Alex wants to seep through them.
The way his usually perfect hair looks like he’s been running his hand through it, the way he’s not wearing a tie and how he keeps fiddling with his signet ring. And finally how close he is, looking Alex intently with his blue eyes like he’s trying to see through him.
“No.” It feels like he is too fucking slow to process all the information infront of him. And he remembers he doesn’t even know what the fuck had happened. “What happened?”
Henry moves back again, going to sit on the initial chair he planned on sitting, and Alex already misses the closeness. Fucking hell, June must be right, he must be getting too clingy when he’s sick. Oh, shit, June.
Henry sees right through him and oop, he’s once again by his side, hand coming up as to touch him but then they fall to his sides. “Well, we did inform your family. Your sister is going to be here as soon as she can, accompanied by Miss Holleran. And, you, you actually passed out in the kitchen and I- we-, we immediately brought you here.”
Henry's face distorts, again just for one second, like it pains him to remember it back. Taking a deep breath, he continues. “Apparently, your appendix has ruptured. The doctor realized it as soon as you were brought in, so they operated on you. Thankfully the procedure went well and I am sure your doctor will come in shortly to brief you properly.”
“Oh. Okay.” Alex manages.
“Would you like something?” Henry asks, clearly unsure as to how to handle things between them. He’s probably staying with him out of pity but the sincerity in his eyes throws Alex off his game. He’s so used to antagonizing Henry, this new version of the dude is fucking with his brain.
“I…” he hesitates for a minute, they are nothing if not enemies, why would Henry want to stay anyways. “Nevermind.”
“Please, Alex” Maybe it’s the way Henry says his name, sounding so reverent or the tremble Alex must have imagined in his voice.
“Now that I’m awake, I know I’m gonna get restless fucking soon and I’d like to get ahead of that and not blow my stitches or whatever.” Ugh why does he feel so scared to ask for something from Henry. “It’d be cool if I could watch something, I don’t know.”
He tries to shrug, feigning nonchalance but there is nothing nonchalant about the way Henry acts. “Yes, of course. I do have my laptop with me actually. We could watch anything you’d like.”
We? We…
Okay, sure. Alex can watch a movie with Henry. It would be fucking rude to turn him down now, wouldn’t it. They can watch something together. “Stellar.”
Henry turns around and reaches for an overnight bag Alex hasn’t noticed before and pulls out his laptop, then sets it on the rolly table and pulls it so it sits right in front of Alex, on top of his legs.
Does the overnight bag meant Henry stayed? Wasn’t it all just a drug induced dream Alex made up? Before he has a chance to freak out over it all, he feels a buzzing then he’s moving. He’s moving? Instinctively he looks at Henry. Why the fuck is he looking at Henry for answers, for protection?
Henry gives him a sheepish smile and sets down the remote control. “I thought you’d be more comfortable sitting up just a little.” Then he situates the chair next to him and sits down, craning his neck to navigate the laptop.
“Oh for fucks sakes, Henry.” Alex makes a movement to scootch, creating a space for Henry to sit down next to him on the bed but the sudden movement shoots a pain through his abdomen, making him double down on himself. “Shit.”
Henry is by his side in an instant, standing up, pushing the rolly table aside without a care for the piece of electronics on it. “Are you okay? Do you need me to call for the nurse?” His hands hover over Alex’s abdomen, then curls into a fist.
Not trusting his voice, with a dismissive wave Alex tries to reassure him, then pats the vacated spot. Hesitantly Henry leans there, half of his body on the bed, left knee tucked with his right leg dangling.
“What? Two bros chilling on a hospital bed six feet apart cause they not gay?” He raises an eyebrow at him.
“Oh sod off.” A laughter spills from Henry’s lips, a sound that is entrancing, and with that Henry climbs fully on the bed and moves one arm around Alex to not jostle him with his shoulder.
In their new position it is almost like Alex is using his chest as a pillow, but he welcomes the warmth of Henry, his smell, like clean linens and fresh grass. And tries to divert his attention to the laptop in front of him. He will not dissect this weird thing going on between them, thank you very fucking much.
He pulls the rolly table back and nudges Henry’s side with the shoulder he has tucked under his arm. Henry quickly navigates his way around the menu and opens a list of movies for Alex to choose from.
“Bridget Jones's Diary, Notting Hill, Love Actually, Pride and Prejudice, almost all versions, wow dude you really like it huh? Lion King…” As Alex reads it all out loud, he comes to a stop when he sees the Bond movies.
Right, beloved English actor Arthur Fox. The man who Alex watched on the screen as the handsome and charismatic James Bond. Henry’s dad. The man who gave his son his blue eyes and tawny hair, the same cheekbones. The man who probably read him to sleep just like Oscar did with Alex.
For a brief second Alex wonders if Henry ever got to have the father-son relationship he had with his own father growing up. Cooking in the kitchen while singing Spanish songs, sneaking around Ellen and going on motorcycle rides, running around in the yard playing soccer.
It all seems so common for a royal family. Before today, before this thought had slithered its way into his brain, Alex never would have thought anything other than frigid things for the royals, but now he thinks. Did Henry also climb up on the bed when his father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer?
He looks up to see Henry’s face, like it is important for him to check up on him. There is a sad smile there, his expression more guarded that Alex has seen in the past 24 hours or so. He lightly squeezes Henry’s thigh then continues his search on the movie library.
He sees the Star Wars movies in an instant and without a second thought clicks on the Empire Strikes Back.
“Empire?” Henry asks, twisting his face in a very non-royal-y way. Alex files that expression next to his laugh, then shoves it deep down to dig back up when he inevitably has his crisis over these thoughts.
“What?” he asks incredulously. “Don’t tell my you’re a fucking Return of the Jedi kind of guy.”
Oh and Alex shouldn’t have said that. It launches them into a heated argument about which of the Star Wars movies are superior, casting Henry in a more human light than Alex had ever seen. As someone interesting and sharp and witty. Someone who arguable can outstubborn him if he would ever fucking accept it. No, he fucking won’t.
Their little bubble bursts when the doctor comes to check on Alex. He awkwardly addresses Henry first who had already stiffened and tried to disentangle himself from Alex and only stayed put when Alex reflexively held him, then starts explaining to Alex what had happened.
Alex hears exactly zero words of his entire explanation, too focused on Henry though. His chin is jutting out, lips tight in a line, there is an air around him Alex always assumed was smugness, vanity perhaps but now realizes is discomfort.
“Alright, Mr. Claremont-Diaz?”
“Yes, yes. We will make sure of that. Thank you.” Henry speaks for him, realizing Alex probably didn’t listen to anything, inquisitive eyes searching his face.
Clearing his throat, Henry returns his attention back to the laptop in front of them. He silently puts on A New Hope, gives Alex a cautious smile then his eyes glue on the screen in front of them. When Alex drifts off, no longer than 10 minutes later, the ghost touch of a hand lingers on his left shoulder.
Half asleep Alex snuggles closer to the warmth encompassing him but something constricts his movement, forcing his mind to catch up. Not a second later he is very aware of the fact that what constricts his movement is not what but who. One prince to be specific.
One of Henry’s arms is thrown over him, but nowhere near his stitches as if it was intentional. His head is perfectly slotted in the crook of Henry’s neck, his smell filling all of Alex’s senses, strands of blonde hair tickling his forehead.
What’s the most surprising is, Alex is kind of loving this. He is hoping Henry won’t wake up soon so he can enjoy this a little longer. He closes his eyes, and scoots impossibly closer knowing full well he is cuddling Henry.
Minutes or hours later, a commotion is heard on the outside and Henry is startled awake. Alex tries to keep his breathing even and deep, committing to the whole sleeping bid.
Henry very so carefully disentangles himself from Alex, trying his best to not jostle him. He feels fingers barely grazing his cheekbones, a phantom of a touch setting his skin on fire.
Alex feels the ants crawling under his skin just like any other time he saw Henry, they had come to at least a mutual understanding, or that’s what Alex thought but why is he feeling like entirety of his body is fucking itching from the simplest contact.
Before he can investigate the cause of his irritation the door to his hospital room swings open.
“Alex.” It’s June who rushes to him first, closely followed by Nora and her “Alejandro!”
He flutters his eyelashes open, then fakes a yawn. Fucking shit, what has his life come to. “Hey.”
He is genuinely happy to see his sister and best friend, being sick and all, but a traitorous part of his brain can not help but wonder if this means Henry will go back to Kensington and leave him till their rescheduled cancer ward visit at the children's hospital. What the actual fuck?
“Erm, welcome.” Apparently both of the girls were too focused on Alex to realize Henry was in the room with him.
“Your Royal Highness.” June greets him, a genuine smile on her face.
“Henry, please.” His face is still again, he doesn’t like all the formality, Alex notes.
“Okay, Henry. Thank you for bringing my brother here, and taking good care of him.”
“No need to thank me, honestly. Anyone would do the same.” Wow he sounds so earnest, his cheeks blushing. “I had rooms made up for you in Kensington as well. You may go whenever you please.”
Then Henry and June settle into a conversation about what had happen and Alex can feel Nora’s burning gaze on his body fucking scorching him. When Henry tries to leave and give them some privacy, it’s Nora who stops him. They all fall into easy conversation, everyone around Alex’s hospital bed.
June sits on the foot of the bed while Nora snuggles next to him, taking Henry’s previous spot. Alex does not mentally compare them and conclude he’d prefer Henry’s wide shoulders and strong thighs next to him while said thighs occupy the chair next to his bed.
Initially when Nora climbs up the bed, Alex realizes Henry’s face goes cloudy for a brief second before schooling his expression into something neutral. Given the elbow in his fucking ribs on his good side Ouch Nora, he’s not the only one.
When the nurse comes in to change his dressings, girls take it as their cue to leave and they take Henry with them. He will be shortly released once the doctor sees him anyway and they inform him that they want to take short naps before he is back at Kensington.
When a few minutes later Nora comes back alone, I told them I forgot my bag here. he knows he’s fucked.
“What the fuck Alejandro?” Straight to the point…
“What?” He asks feigning ignorance.
She swats his good side. “Don’t play dumb with me. I saw you guys cuddling before we came in.”
“What the fuck Nora? Were you spying on us?”
“Spill.” She gestures with her two fingers motioning like she wants him to hand her something.
“Okay long story short.” He takes a big break. “He is not as obnoxious as I thought he was, he took me to the hospital even though I’m like 99% sure I threw up on him. We watched movies and fell asleep. Oh and he apparently doesn’t hate me but I still get this prickling fucking feeling under my skin whenever he’s around and I don’t know why.”
The last sentence comes out as a whisper but he knows she heard it anyway because she burst into laughter so hard, she has to wipe her eyes.
“What?”
“Oh my sweet summer child, how can you be so smart yet so stupid at the same time is beyond me.”
Before he can further question him, Henry walks in. “Oh, sorry. I can leave if you were having a private conversation.”
“Nah, it’s fine.” Nora says dismissing him with a wave. “See you boys at the palace I guess.”
When it’s just the two of them again they pick up where they left off like they’ve been friends for years and not just cordial with each other for the past few days.(? Hours? With the surgery and everything, time is a little lost on Alex.)
The doctor comes in and signs off his papers, setting him free to go. He still needs to rest for two weeks in Kensington (which he does not hate to be honest), and fulfill his official duties (which he kind of fucking dreads because what if Henry becomes closed off again?).
They arrive at the palace without a hitch but Aex notices how each time there is a speed bump on the road or a sharp turn -anything that can jostle Alex- Henry’s shoulders stiffen and his eyes ever so subtly dart to him. He’s gonna need 3 to fucking 5 business days to process everything.
Henry helps him to his room, tells him to take a nap and call him if he ever needs anything. Not the palace staff, not Shaan, not Cash or Amy but him. Alex feels too drained to over analyze any of it and before he closes his eyes a voice in the back of his head tells him this wasn’t the room he was in when he first got to Kensington.
The first thing Alex does when he wakes up is not telling Henry like he asked when they first arrived but to waddle into the kitchen to get some coffee and food. He is fucking starving and more importantly it might have been over 48 hours the last time he drank some coffee.
He sees the first morning light slowly penetrating through the windows and stops in front of the window for a second to appreciate the view. He does not need to rest because his incision is hurting or anything. The gardens with the morning dew really do give the entire place a regal vibe or some shit like that.
When the pain subsides and Alex feels like he can continue on his quest to find some coffee, this time the muffled noises coming behind a closed door stop him. It is Henry and Bea again, clearly arguing this time.
“Would it be so horrid?”
“No, absolutely not. You bloody well know I can’t Bea.”
“At some point you have to come to terms with the fact that you do deserve good things, Hen.”
“I can not let him near Bea, it would kill me if I let myself fall in love with him. I’ve known it from the first sodding moment I saw him. I kept him at arm's length because I had to, not because I wanted to. It’s best if he hates me.”
“Love, I don’t think he hates you.”
Alex staggers back until he hits a credenza, knocking a statue on it to the ground. Panicking, he turns to look if he broke anything priceless and thank fuck it is silver or something and stays intact but turning to his side is his biggest mistake. He keels over, yelping in pain.
Big wooden doors open with a thud and in an instant Henry is by his side, his hand safely cradling Alex’s head. “Alex, you alright love?” Long fingers carefully brush away curls from his face as Bea also kneels by his side. His insides turn into a puddle but it must be from the pain and not the pet name.
“Alex, are you alright?”
“Yes, yeah. I just wanted to get some coffee and… I must have felt light headed because I accidentally knocked this thing over and made the mistake of fucking bending down to get it.” He gestures towards the bust lying on the floor.
Ever so careful Henry helps him up and walks Alex back to his room, his supporting arm never leaving his waist. There is a crease in between his brows Alex wants to smooth out with his fingers, must be those fucking pain meds -which he hasn’t taken for the past six hours or so but it’s not important-.
Once Henry makes sure Alex is under the covers snug and safe, he starts chastising. “I explicitly remember telling you to call me if you ever needed anything Alex. Are you so stubborn that you can not even ask for coffee from me?”
The heat starts to coil in his stomach, Henry once again getting under his skin. Logically he knows these are just words of worry but he fucking hates feeling like he needs or has to depend on someone. Fuck logic. “I’m sorry your Majesty, not everyone had a whole ass palace staff at their fucking service growing up. I barely had my own fucking mother so you’ll have to excuse me if I try and get one single fucking cup of coffee for myself.”
Henry sits down on the bed, right by Alex and reaches out to wipe down a tear that has rolled down his cheek without him even realizing. “I’m sorry.”
“Huh?”
“I’m sorry. You do not need anyone to help you, you are more than capable of getting your own beverage. I simply wanted to offer help, and got carried away with worry when I saw you on the floor.”
Henry’s words hit Alex like a chilly breeze. How could he have known how Alex felt? To find the right thing to say? Before constructing a coherent response, Alex lets his eyes wander and really takes the boy in front of him in.
His skin is pale, but there is a pretty porcelain like look to it, the dark rings under his eyes creating an enchanting juxtaposition. He clearly hasn't been sleeping, is this something new? His straight nose makes way to the pinkest most luscious lips and two freckles, one under and one on the corner, framing them like constellations.
He is wearing a robe de chambre, fucking bougie prince Alex thinks but his time it isn’t as edgy, as annoyed but more amused. Like of course prince charming is wearing a maroon satin robe de chambre. And much to Alex’s dismay, he isn’t wearing anything underneath it, planes of ivory skin taunting him. His eyes drift south on their own accord, and find Henry’s hands resting on his lap. His fingers are fiddling with the signet ring, the edges smooth from constantly repeated action.
“I should get going.”
Alex realizes he probably hadn't said anything and Henry interpreted the silence as his cue to leave. He reaches out and holds his hands, and wow his hands are much larger than Alex’s. “Stay.”
Henry’s face contorts in shock, mouth creating a perfect “o”. He looks like a sexy trout and an image of Henry’s mouth forming the same shape but under different conditions appears. Red lights start blazing in his head a constant stream of WHAT THE FUCK in the background like a mantra.
Okay. Alex will deal with this later. This is a problem for fucking future Alex and the poor fucker has a lot to unpack. He will suffer and probably lay down on the ground on the stables so one of Henry’s horses can trample him to death or at least cause enough brain damage to turn him into a vegetable. A vegetable who does not imagine Henry in graphic sexual scenes.
But present Alex? Present Alex will shove it all down like a fucking champ and let what’s gonna happen to happen til he inevitably becomes a vegetable. “I am not good at asking for help.” he silently confesses.
“And I am not good at being much of a help, apparently.” Henry shoots back. His eyes dart back to his own hands, once again fiddling with the ring. “Why don’t you like me?” he asks, his voice more open and vulnerable than Alex has ever heard.
“I heard what you said to Shaan back in Rio.”
It is not an accusation like it would have been before, it is not icy either, it is just a simple fact, a fact that once hurt Alex like a motherfucker. Silence falls between them, Henry’s face contorting in pain. “I didn’t realize you’d heard that.”
Alex for a second thinks about everything he felt that day, everything that went through his head, but then what he heard just mere minutes ago pops into his head, once again knocking the wind out of him.
He thinks about the Henry he now knows, the one who let Alex see at least some of the cracks in the walls he’s built. He thinks of why Henry has built all those walls, the image of a lonely scared boy scratches himself into his brain, next to a tawny haired confident one he saw all those years ago.
His mind is racing, all these thoughts seeping out of his ears, then he comes to a decision. He makes a little side wave motion with his hand.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Before, Alex would love to fuck with Henry, to confuse and frustrate him. Now, he still loves fucking with Henry for the sake of fucking with him, knowing he can put a smile on his face. Knowing Henry will give as good as he gets.
He puts his other hand up in the air, above the one he’s been moving and repeats the motion.
“Alex what in the name of god are you doing?” Henry’s words might seem like he’s annoyed, but Alex can see the corner of his lips are fighting for their fucking live to not curl upwards.
“Water.” he simply says after making another waving motion. “Bridge” he says, wiggling the one that’s been flat in the air.
“Yes, I was scared at that time and thought you could help me. Yes I was fucking offended.” he punctuates by raising an eyebrow at him, an annoyed smile on his lips. “I am not a prince, I was not born into this. I am the biracial son of the first female US president and I’m not white like she is, I can't even pass as white so I knew this was gonna be a tough road to walk on, I thought you could be a friend.”
“Alex-”
He cuts Henry off, lifting his hand and placing it on his mouth like a kid. “Henry. I also know you had lost your father very recently back then, and I’m kind of realizing you don’t like being a prince and being in the spotlight and all that. It’s water, under the bridge, okay? I don’t hate you or anything. I will deny ever saying this so don’t fucking quote me or anything but you’re much cooler than I thought.”
Henry beams under the compliment and the urge to make him smile like that all the time fills Alex. Ugh, future Alex is so fucked no one’s gonna be able to save that motherfucker.
“Still, I owe you an apology. I was a prick towards you that day, my father had died fourteen months ago and I was acting like a prick to everyone, but for what it’s worth I am truly sorry Alex.”
He makes another wave motion with his hand and laughs. “Well you can make it up to me by bringing me coffee and watching a movie with me.”
Henry gets up to leave, and just before he exits the room, he turns around and picks something up from the obnoxiously pink dresser. With annoying grace, he strides towards the night stand and leaves whatever he picked up there. Alex only can take a glance at it after Henry walks out the door. And is not because he’s too busy ogling Henry’s ass, he is not.
When he finally turns to his right to look at it, he finds his glasses perched on top of the nightstand. Right. He was wearing them when he fainted in the kitchen. Before he can pick it up and put them on, the door opens.
Henry, balancing a tray in one large hand walks in. Alex can smell the delicious coffee from all the way over his bed and he must be imagining things because he can almost swear there is a cinnamon smell accompanying it too. He instinctively pats the empty spot next to him and makes grabby hands towards the coffee.
“You are seriously addicted to that ghastly thing, aren’t you?” Henry asks with a fond smile as he sits down then he hands Alex the mug and sets the tray filled with pastries on his lap.
Alex takes the first sip, and everything else suddenly becomes irrelevant. “Cinnamon? How did you know?”
There is this pretty blush creeping up on Henry’s cheeks. “I asked June how you take your coffee.” he confesses shyly, almost waiting to be berated.
“Hen.” It slips out, but Alex doesn’t care. His voice cracks and there is a stinging in his eyes, he knows are caused by unshed tears. How can one tiny gesture affect him so much, he doesn’t know.
But this man, this man sitting next to him, he is not the same man Alex met at Rio. He is not the boy from June’s magazine either. This is someone who takes Alex to the hospital even though he thinks Alex hates him, someone who worries and fusses over Alex when he’s sick, someone who sleeps at the fucking hospital on a chair not caring about other times he must have slept there, someone who asked June how Alex takes his coffee.
With an unexpected calmness, he places the mug on the nightstand, next to his glasses. Takes the tray from Henry’s lap and ever so carefully puts it further in the unnecessarily big bed. He cradles Henry's face with both of his hands, careful as to not move his torso, then looks at those blue eyes for a beat.
A soft “Please” spills from Henry’s lips and it’s game over.
He doesn’t know who finally closes the gap between them but when their lips meet, it doesn’t even matter. The kiss is not hurried but soft, carrying a promise. Promise of what may follow. Henry’s lips taste like future and happiness, they torch his skin with just one touch, teasing to burn him.
And Alex leans into it, lets Henry’s gentle kiss wash over him and take all the worry away. His fear of the inevitable dooming sexuality crisis just vanish, everything he thought future Alex would deal with, gone. Because when Henry’s kissing him, sucking his bottom lip like that, his brain goes blissfully quiet. A feeling Alex knows he’ll chase for as long as he can.
He only peels himself away from Henry when he feels two strong hands actively push him away. The sudden rejection baffles him. “Wha-”
“Love, trust me, I would love to keep kissing you but you just had an operation and I can’t let you straddle me.” Judging by the strain in his voice, it seems like Henry is actually having a hard time pushing Alex away.
And only then Alex realizes he is trying to climb on Henry’s lap. “Oh, sorry.” There is not a sorry bone in his body though, and the cheekiness in his tone kinda lets it show.
“Alex.” He can hear the cogs in Henry’s head turning, overthinking.
“Henry.” He mimics. But he knows he has to get this right. “I… Well, I’m bisexual.”
Henry looks him up and down, checking him out. A blush creeps on Alex’s cheeks, thank fuck for his golden complexion hiding it. “I’m very, very gay. But-“
“No but’s unless it’s your butt.” He tries to joke. “Stop overthinking. Look I don’t know how this could work but I know I want you. I think I’ve wanted you far longer than I realized.”
Henry looks at him with uncertainty, yet his eyes betray him, showing how much he wants this.
“C’mon Henry, let's give it a try, please. We’re gonna have to show up at places together all the time anyways. We can say it’s all for the public relations bullshit and I don’t know, visit a bunch of romantic places sweetheart. No one would be the wiser.”
He hears Henry’s breath stutter. It is barely audible but it’s there. The pet name gets him. Oh Alex thrives on a good challenge. He brings on the big guns, leaning into his accent and gambles with another pet name, hoping to drive it home.
“And besides, I’m bedridden, y’all are stuck with me for at least two weeks baby.” He runs a finger up and down Henry’s arm and feels the shiver running down his spine. “Might as well spend it fooling around with my boyfriend”
And that does the trick. One second Alex is batting his eyelashes at Henry and the next he’s got a lap full of a prince. “You will be the death of me you bloody cretin.”
“Uuuh. Talk dirty to me baby.” Henry effectively shuts him up by kissing him, somehow both gentler and more passionately this time.
“I can’t wait for you to heal completely.” Henry says, punctuating each word with an open mouthed kiss to Alex’s neck, still straddling him, careful to not put any of his weight down.
Just when Alex has enough brain cells online to ask if it is a threat or promise, the door flings open. Someone whoops yelling “Get it Hazza.” He hears both Bea and June eww’ing them and complaining about seeing their baby brothers in compromising situations.
Henry climbs down, causing Alex to whine like a toddler which draws out more protests from their sisters but what gets him is when Nora claps Henry on his shoulder and says “Welcome to the family Enrique.”
Poor Henry turns red as a beet and gingerly tries to get off of the bed. Alex reaches for him to the best of his abilities and reprimands them. “Look what you guys fucking did. I’m sick and I can’t even get cuddles from my boyfriend because of you guys.”
After two more cups of coffee, countless snacks and a Mummy marathon later, damn how did not Alex see his bisexuality coming from a mile away, the pills get the best of him, he fights with all his might but sleep clearly is winning.
Henry places a soft kiss to the top of his head. “Sleep darling, you need the rest.”
Alex looks around at June, Nora and Pez squeezed on the loveseat, Bea on the floor lying on her stomach, Henry’s dog David -we will discuss the matter of his name when I’m not drowsy with pain meds Hen- at the foot of the bed sleeping. His eyes finally land on Henry cuddling him just like he did at the hospital. And even with the pain he feels happier than he ever did. .