Archive of Our Own

Alex is aghast. Mostly because what Henry is saying to him is unfathomable. And apparently he’s been spending so much fucking time with Henry that he thinks words like ‘aghast’ and ‘unfathomable’ now, what the fuck. “You’re what?”

Henry leans against the kitchen counter facing him, one long leg crossed over the other. “I’m not going home. I’m just going to stay here on my own for Christmas. I’ll read my favourite books and get a takeaway, maybe do a face mask,” Henry says, sounding a little too much like he’s explaining something to a toddler for Alex’s liking. Then, his mouth curves in a way that Alex knows means he’s about to tease him. “I think I’ll actually enjoy it. It might be a novel experience, having some peace and quiet around here with you gone.”

“Oh fuck off.” Alex shoves Henry’s chest. “As if you wouldn’t miss me.”

The tips of Henry’s ears go pink. “I, uh, well—”

“You should come home with me,” Alex suggests, hoisting himself up to sit on the counter beside Henry.

“Sorry?”

“Come to the lake house with me. For Christmas,” Alex adds, in case that isn’t obvious. He’s growing more excited by the idea with every passing second. “June and Nora will be there, I can take you to Franklin Barbecue and Dad and I will cook while Mom grills. And there’s so much food for Noche Buena, dinner never really stops, it’s just a never ending feast. Oh! And I’m gonna get us matching ugly Christmas sweaters because we’ve gotta beat the girls – don’t tell them I called them ‘the girls’ they’ll be mad and—”

Suddenly, Alex really fucking wants this. He wants Henry to come home with him for Christmas because Henry is his best friend and if he’s honest with himself, he’s going to miss Henry and his stupid floppy hair and the smell of his gross Earl Grey tea and the way he makes Alex’s coffee if they’re apart over the holidays. They’ve only been living together for six months, but in the year since they’ve become friends instead of enemies, Henry’s become a constant in Alex’s life.

“—So, will you?”

“I don’t want to impose,” Henry says slowly.

“You won’t be imposing! Dad always puts me in the room with bunks anyway so there’s definitely a spare bed.” Alex places his hands on Henry’s broad shoulders and turns him so that they’re facing each other. “Say yes.”

Henry hesitates, before saying slowly, “If you’re sure he won’t mind.”

Alex grins and smacks a kiss on Henry’s cheek. “Yes!” he exclaims, punching the air and jumping off the counter, almost crashing into Henry, who steadies him with a warm hand on Alex’s waist. “I’m gonna call Mom to tell her.”

“Wait, I thought the lake house was your father’s house?” Henry scrunches his nose up in confusion. It’s cute.

“It is.” Alex shrugs. “But Mom and Leo come for Christmas too and we all try to pretend we’re not a fucked up family. Mostly, it’s fun.”

“But you’ll check with your dad that it’s okay for me to come too, won’t you? I wouldn’t want to turn up at his home without permission.”

“Don’t worry, H. It’ll be fine. But I’ll call him right after I call Mom, promise. I’ll even do it now if that’ll make you feel better.”

“Thank you.”

Alex pats himself down looking for his phone, then casts his gaze around the kitchen.

“It’s on the dining table. You were working there when I came in,” Henry offers, before Alex can ask.

“Ah, what would I do without you?”

“Probably spend hours of your day looking for things you’re already holding,” Henry says drily. “Your glasses are on top of your head, by the way.”

“Alex, wait.” Henry puts a hand on his wrist to stop him from unlocking the front door.

Alex faces him, quirking a brow in question. “Wait for what?” He’s not feeling very patient right now and it’s not his strong suit at the best of times. He desperately wants to wash the grimy feeling of being on a plane off himself and as much as he loves driving his dad’s Jeep, which had been left at the airport for him, roadworks had turned their planned 90-minute drive into a two-and-a-half-hour nightmare.

“What if, what if they don’t like me?” Henry asks him quietly.

Alex softens. “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, adjusting his hand so that he can clasp Henry’s and give him a reassuring squeeze. “They’re gonna love you.”

“How can you know that?” Henry’s brow furrows adorably.

“Because you’re you.” Alex winks and watches the flicker of emotion that passes across Henry’s face before he reels it in. “Now, can I open the door or are you gonna wait ‘til my dad throws it open and asks why we’ve been standing here so long? He’s definitely been waiting for us to come in since we pulled into the driveway. I learned the hard way that he can somehow hear the car pull up no matter where he is in the house.”

Henry sighs and gestures at the door and Alex pushes it open.

“Is that you, Alex?” a deep voice calls from the depths of the house above the music Alex can hear drifting through the space.

“You expecting anyone else, Pa?” Alex replies, dragging his suitcase through the door and kicking off his shoes before shrugging his coat from his shoulders, hanging it on the coat rack. Henry follows suit at Alex’s urging. “Come meet everyone,” he says, practically skipping down the hall without checking to see whether Henry is following. He doesn’t need to.

It’s late in the day. His dad is at the counter, preparing elotes while June mixes a jug of sangria. Alex can see his mom outside at the grill turning what he hopes are her signature ribs, Leo by her side. He can’t see Nora, but given that June’s hair is damp and she’s wearing a sweater over a swimsuit, he deduces that Nora must be in the hot tub.

“Mijo!” Oscar greets him warmly, wiping his hands on the dish towel slung over his shoulder so that he can embrace Alex. Alex leans into him. It wasn’t always like this between them, but Alex has grown up and Oscar tries harder and, well, Alex knows he’s lucky.

He catches sight of Henry over his dad’s shoulder, a wistful expression on his face as he watches them. Alex pulls back and gestures to Henry to come closer. “Dad, this is Henry.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Henry says, offering his hand to Oscar.

His dad takes it, but then pulls Henry in for a quick hug. “It’s great to meet you, Henry. Hope you’re ready to fucking party.”

“Hey Henry,” June calls over her shoulder on her way back outside. “Lil Bit, grab the other glasses on the counter for me?”

Alex rolls his eyes because of course June is already bossing him around. Henry only shakes his head and laughs, used to their antics. Until recently, June and Nora had lived only a few blocks away from them, so they saw each other all the time. They’d moved to Washington last month though; June scored a new job with the Washington Post and Nora had, of course, gone with her.

“C’mon,” Alex says to Henry. “I’ll introduce you to Mom and Leo.”

Henry grabs the glasses for him and they head outside. They leave the glasses beside the pitcher of sangria on the table and join June beside the grill. Nora’s with her, simultaneously dripping wet and steaming from the heat of the hot tub in the cool air.

“Mom, this is Henry,” Alex says, leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek when she offers it.

“Hi sugar. Henry, I’m so pleased to finally meet Alex’s boyfriend, he talks so much about you.” She snaps the lid of the grill closed.

“Oh,” Alex starts, surprised at his mom’s assumption. Henry’s eyebrows are sky high when he looks at Alex, alarm written across his face as a blush tints the tops of his cheekbones. “Mom, that’s—”

“Henry?” Leo asks from his spot at the table, where he’s pouring sangria. “The same Henry you used to complain nonstop—”

“The one and same,” Alex interrupts before Leo can say something incriminating. It’s not like Alex’s initial dislike of Henry is a secret, since Alex had not been particularly quiet about it. Henry is well aware of it, too – he was there, after all. But Alex doesn’t need Leo talking about it right now, not when his mom is making all kinds of assumptions based on absolutely nothing at all.

“It’s a shame, you know,” Nora says, grinning at Alex wickedly as Oscar joins them all outside. “If Alex has a boyfriend, I won’t get to watch him squirm during Tía Irena’s annual inquisition about his love life and when he’s going to settle down with one of her many friends’ daughters.” She winks at him.

Alex is reeling, his mind racing trying to figure out what to do. On the one hand, as always, Nora is fucking right. If Tía Irena thinks he’s in a relationship, he won’t need to spend a good twenty minutes trying to explain why some woman he’s never met before, and who likely doesn’t even live in the same fucking state as him, is not girlfriend material. He’s pretty sure she’s not homophobic, so that won’t be an issue; last Christmas she cornered June to explain that just because June was in a relationship with Nora, that didn’t mean they couldn’t have children and they should both get started on that because the clock was ticking.

Plus, his mom looks delighted at the prospect of Henry being his boyfriend. Leo is already pouring him wine and, well, if Alex squints, he could imagine this being real. He loves Henry after all. Platonically. As his best friend.

On the other hand, Henry isn’t his boyfriend. Although, he might be willing to play along if Alex asks nicely. Or even if he doesn’t. He can’t actually remember the last time Henry said no to anything that really matters to Alex.

“I hate to admit it, but Nora might actually be right.”

“I’m always right.”

He shrugs and turns to Henry, inclining his head towards the doors. “We’re gonna go put our stuff away. I wanna shower the plane smell off me before dinner.”

June wrinkles her nose. “Is that what that smell was?”

Alex sticks his tongue out at her.

“Alex,” his mom chides. “Don’t be childish.”

He grabs Henry by the wrist. “C’mon, I’ll show you the room. Bunk room, right?” He asks his dad.

“Well, yes but–”

“I remember where it is, Dad.” Alex replies, waving his dad off.

When they get to the bedroom, Alex realises what his dad was probably trying to tell him. This particular room has always been inhabited by a set of bunk beds that he and June used to sleep in as children. Except now, the bunk beds appear to be gone and in their stead, is one bed. A queen-sized bed. But still, one bed.

For him and Henry to sleep in for four nights.

Together.

This is fine.

It’s not like they haven’t shared a bed before but like, not on purpose. It’s happened when they’ve been watching movies on Alex’s laptop and fallen asleep and that’s always been just fine. Even if that one time Alex woke up and—

“Fuck.” He turns to Henry. “I didn’t know.”

“You didn’t know what, exactly?” Henry’s brow is furrowed and his lip is pinched at the corner. Not good, very bad.

“About this.” Alex waves at the bed. “Or, about what my mom said.”

Henry raises a brow. “So, you didn’t tell your mum that I’m your boyfriend?”

“No!” Alex says, a little too loudly. He looks at the open door and moves to close it. “No,” he repeats, softer this time. “I swear I didn’t. She knows we live together and I talk about you, I guess, but I never said we were together. I don’t know why she thought that.”

Alex crosses the room and sinks down on the bed, resting his elbows on his knees. “I didn’t know Dad got rid of the bunks, either.” He looks up at Henry. “I’m pretty sure there’s an air mattress somewhere, I can go find it.”

Henry exhales. “Alex, it’s fine. We can share the bed. It’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before,” he says, echoing Alex’s thoughts from earlier. “Unless you don’t want to—”

“No, it’s fine. I want to,” Alex says quickly. “I mean, I don’t want to sleep with you. In the same bed as you. I mean— Fuck. I don’t mind sharing a bed.”

By now, Henry is smiling, which is an improvement, so Alex will take the minor humiliation associated with stumbling over his words.

“Now that we’ve addressed that issue, I do have another question.”

“What is it?”

“Why didn’t you just tell your mother that I’m not your boyfriend?”

Alex groans. “I don’t know. Can you sit? It’s making my neck hurt to look up at you.”

Henry chuckles, but he sits beside Alex on the bed. “Better?”

“Much.”

“So, why didn’t you just tell your mother that I’m not your boyfriend?” he asks again.

“Not letting that go, huh?”

Henry only tilts his head and waits.

“Fine. I don’t know. She said it and it took my by surprise and then fucking Nora started going on about Tía Irena – her inquisitions about my dating life are the worst part about Christmas by the way – and I just … didn’t correct her.” He doesn’t tell Henry about the part where, just for a moment, he thought about what it might be like to bring Henry home as his real boyfriend.

“Okay,” Henry says slowly. “I guess I can understand that. But Alex, I thought … well, I know we’ve never really discussed this and perhaps I shouldn’t have assumed, but I thought you were straight?”

Oh.

The truth is, Alex has never really thought too hard about his sexuality. He’s only ever dated women. There was that thing with Liam in high school that didn’t really mean anything because they were just horny and drunk and that’s just what horny, drunk teenagers do sometimes. He can – and does – certainly appreciate an attractive man, there’s just never been a reason to think about it more deeply.

Alex shrugs. “I am. Mostly? I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it too hard and it’s never really come up. Like, I’ve only ever dated women but who doesn’t appreciate a great ass or thighs no matter who they belong to?” Henry’s left brow quirks and he looks like he might say something, but Alex doesn’t really give him a chance as he continues. “Mom’s always told us that it doesn’t matter, we never need to come out to her, that we should just bring home whoever we want to bring home and we love who we love and that’s all that matters. So, I guess that’s why she just assumed?”

When Alex pauses and looks at Henry to gauge his reaction, he’s met with his profile as Henry stares at the floor for a long moment. He watches as Henry closes his eyes, his thick lashes fanning out over his cheekbones as the muscle in his jaw twitches before taking a breath and facing Alex again.

“I see,” he says, rubbing his palms on his thighs.

Alex is a little surprised at his lacklustre response. “That’s it?”

“What did you expect me to say?”

“I dunno.” He doesn’t really know what he expected or even what he’d hoped for.

“What are you going to tell your mother?”

“About us?”

“No, Alex. About your thoughts on the latest developments in American fiscal policy,” Henry deadpans. “Yes, about us and specifically about the fact that she appears to be operating under the misapprehension that I’m your boyfriend.”

“Oh. Well… I was kind of hoping we could just let her keep believing that?”

Henry freezes. “Sorry?”

Alex stands and paces the room. “It’s just that I’ve never brought anyone home for Christmas before and it’s become a bit of a running thing. June had Evan for years and now she’s dating Nora and it’s always just been me. Alex, who can’t pay attention to anyone for long enough that they’d want to stick around. Alex, who should stop working so hard so that he can meet a nice girl and settle down already. And now you’re here and you’re my best friend and even that’s not enough and apparently everyone thinks you're my boyfriend. Obviously you aren’t, but Mom seems happy about it? Dad too. Like you’re proof that I’m not a fuck up and that I’m actually good enough for someone and—”

He’s stopped in his tracks by Henry blocking his way and placing his hands on Alex’s shoulders. “Alright then.”

“You’ll do it? Really? You’ll be my fake boyfriend?”

Henry shrugs. “It seems important to you, and I care about you. So, yes. I’ll do it.”

It’s super easy pretending to be Henry’s boyfriend.

Alex stumbles downstairs after waking up alone on their first morning at the lake house to find Henry in front of the French press. He stands beside his fake boyfriend, plonking his head onto Henry’s shoulder and mumbling, “coffee,” against the soft cotton of his t-shirt. It’s not all that different to being at home.

Henry chuckles and presses a kiss to the top of his head – that’s new, and Alex kind of likes it – then hands him a perfectly made cup of coffee, smiling when Alex takes his first sip and closes his eyes, savouring the hint of cinnamon that’s left behind.

“Morning, love,” Henry says fondly, like he always does, before reaching for his own cup of Earl Grey. His dad doesn’t normally stock tea, but Alex texted him three times to make sure Henry would have his favourite cup of hot flavoured water while they were there.

They lean against the counter, arms pressed together, drinking in silence. Henry often says it’s the only time of day that Alex is quiet, before the caffeine kicks in.

His dad is at the kitchen table, drinking his own coffee and reading the newspaper. He clears his throat to get Alex’s attention. “I was thinking about migas for breakfast, mijo. What do you think?”

Alex nods. “We’ve got it, Pa.” He drains his coffee then goes to the fridge to find what he needs.

Henry joins him; slicing ingredients and mixing eggs and passing a spatula to him instinctively, as if in tune with Alex’s body, moving to the same rhythm in a well-choreographed dance. They may not be at home, but Alex organises his kitchen the same way his dad always has and Henry’s become a very capable sous chef since they’ve been living together.

Henry pours him a second cup of coffee without Alex asking for it. He glances at his dad as he takes a sip and finds him watching them, a small smile on his face. Alex ignores the way his stomach flips. Breakfast is almost ready anyway.

The extended family starts rolling in from around midday and Noche Buena passes in the typical dizzying swirl of greetings and hugs, questions and deflections, cooking and eating and eating some more. If Oscar Diaz knows anything, it’s how to put on a fucking feast.

This year though, there’s Henry.

There’s Henry, easily charming Alex’s abuela and all of the tías with his smile and his accent and his arm around Alex’s waist.

There’s Henry, laughing with June and their primos, head thrown back and eyes crinkled at the corners.

There’s Henry, talking quietly with Leo, no doubt comparing notes about the very expensive looking wine that Leo’s just opened.

There’s Henry, reluctantly dancing because Alex asked him to, even though he’s always insisted that he doesn’t dance. Alex’s hands are on his hips, guiding Henry to move with the rhythm and Henry has his arms slung around Alex’s neck, his body following Alex’s lead. They’re laughing and smiling and up close Henry’s lips look soft and pink and there’s something squeezing Alex’s heart making it feel too big for his ribcage.

There’s Henry, standing in front of him with his hands in his pockets in a forest green sweater that matches the mistletoe that Alex hadn’t even realised was there.

“Mistletoe!” Alex hears Nora cheer gleefully from behind him. “Kiss, kiss, kiss!”

June nudges her and shoots Alex a look, always checking to see if he’s okay. He shrugs and turns to Henry.

“Is this okay?” he asks quietly.

“Comes with the territory I think,” Henry replies.

Alex tiptoes and presses a kiss just to the side of Henry’s mouth, not quite on his lips.

“Oh Alejandro, if that’s how you kiss your boyfriend, no wonder you haven’t brought anyone home before now!” one of his tías – he can’t see who – cackles drunkenly from the other side of the room. “Surely you can do better than that.”

“Yeah, Alejandro,” Nora echoes. June frowns. The girls, of course, are well aware of the fact that he and Henry aren’t actually together. June tried to pull Alex aside earlier to talk about it but Alex distracted her by asking her to help him with the polvorones.

“What do you think, sweetheart?” Alex asks with more swagger than he’s currently feeling at the prospect of kissing Henry properly.

He’s kissed Henry before – on the cheek or forehead – but he’s never kissed Henry. Come to think of it, he hasn’t done that with a guy at all. Alex is suddenly nervous. Can’t really be any different to kissing a woman, he reasons with himself.

Something flickers across Henry’s face before he rolls his shoulders back and sticks his chin out a little, the way he does when he’s trying to be brave. “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t kiss my boyfriend under the mistletoe?”

Alex grins and takes a step towards him. Henry slips one hand out of his pocket and tucks a finger underneath Alex’s chin, tipping it upwards. Henry presses their lips together, lingering for a moment, his lips every bit as soft as Alex had imagined. It’s a chaste kiss, sweet and gentle, just the barest touch of Henry’s tongue against Alex’s lips when he parts them. It’s not the kind of kiss that would set the world on fire, and yet, it leaves Alex’s lips tingling with the ghost of Henry’s touch.

He tells himself that it’s just the champagne.

“You can’t be serious,” Henry says, trying to give the sweater back to Alex.

Alex dances out of reach. “I’m very fucking serious, H. You need to wear it. It’s Christmas morning tradition! I have a matching one.”

“But it’s—” Henry holds the sweater up.

“It’s amazing is what it is,” Alex insists.

The sweaters have red, green and navy fair isle sleeves but the pièce de résistance is Rudolph wearing sunglasses, with Christmas lights wrapped around his antlers and a red light for his nose. The reindeer is also wearing a sweater that says LET IT GLOW. “Look! The lights actually light up!” He switches on the lights on the sweater he’s already wearing to demonstrate.

“That makes it worse,” Henry mutters.

“I know you have an accent, but that’s not how you pronounce ‘fucking stellar’. Wear it wear it wear it wear it,” Alex chants.

Henry sighs. “You are a complete menace. You know that, right?”

“And yet, here you are, sweetheart,” Alex drawls, cocky because he knows that sigh means Henry is going to give in.

“For reasons I cannot possibly fathom right now,” Henry says with a resigned expression on his face. “Do you swear we won’t be the only ones wearing ridiculous jumpers?”

“Pinky promise,” Alex replies solemnly, holding his pinky out.

Henry indulges him, hooking their fingers together. He slips off the t-shirt he’d slept in. It’s far from the first time that Alex has seen Henry shirtless. He’s very familiar with the broad set of Henry’s shoulders, the toned but soft-looking muscles of his chest and stomach, and the way his torso narrows to his slim waist. Somehow, it feels more intimate now, getting dressed together while standing in the quiet bedroom that they’re sharing, beside the bed they slept in together, pillows still wearing the indentations of their heads.

“I look ridiculous,” Henry announces, once he’s wearing the sweater.

“It’s perfect,” Alex insists, grabbing his phone from his nightstand. “Let’s take a photo for Bea.”

Henry narrows his eyes and gives Alex a reproachful look when they meet June and Nora in the hallway. They’re wearing matching pink sweaters that say 'Sleigh the Patriarchy' but which do not, in Alex’s opinion, count as an “ugly” Christmas sweater. Alex is vindicated, however, once they get downstairs and find Leo looking like a tinsel-covered fire hazard and Oscar wearing a sweater covered in literal bells.

“Nice one,” Oscar says when he sees Alex and Henry, before giving them a jingling twirl and a shimmy. “Not bad for an old man, huh?”

“Next time, I’m bringing you here in the summer,” Alex announces, shivering a little in the cool night air as he hands the beers to Henry and climbs back over the side of the hot tub. “We’ll be able to swim in the lake and lie in the sun on the dock – well, maybe you shouldn’t do that. Your pasty ass would burn. But we could take the boat out.”

“Next time?” Henry asks.

“You don’t wanna come back?” He sinks into the water beside Henry, groaning as the warm water covers him.

Henry deflects by asking, “And what, continue to pretend to be your boyfriend?”

Alex hadn’t considered that. He shrugs. “We could. Or not. I could just say we broke up but are still friends. I don’t know, I think it’s been kinda fun, this fake dating thing.” He knocks his knee into Henry’s underwater. Henry takes a sip of beer and stares at the label, picking at it but doesn’t say anything, so Alex continues. “Hey, I should take you on a date tomorrow, we can go get some barbecue or something.”

Henry hums noncommittally, not meeting Alex’s gaze. “Er, sure. If you’d like to do that. I think I might head inside actually.” He pushes himself out of the tub, barely stopping to dry himself.

“H,” Alex calls after him. But Henry either doesn’t hear him or ignores him as he walks into the house.

Alex is left staring at the beer Henry left behind, wondering what he said.

Normally a side sleeper, Alex wakes to find himself on his stomach and pinned to the mattress. He tries to shift but it’s like there’s weights sitting across his back and hips holding him down. He tries moving the other way and—

Oh.

Henry.

Henry is pressed against him, pinning him to the mattress. It’s Henry’s arm across his shoulders, his leg slung over Alex’s hips … and Henry hard against the side of Alex’s ass.

Alex’s throat is dry. This is fine. It’s morning and this is just what bodies do. It’s not like Alex isn’t in the same state. It doesn’t mean anything. It’s fine.

He tries to move away from Henry again and initially, Henry’s grip tightens on him. After a moment, Alex feels Henry go still – perhaps in a way that indicates he’s only pretending to be asleep, but Alex lets him keep up the pretense. He’s not exactly ready to talk to Henry right now either.

Alex inches himself out from beneath Henry until he’s close enough to the edge of the bed to get up and promptly gets tangled in the sheets, falling onto the floor with a thud.

“Motherfucker!” he hisses, rubbing his knee.

Alex lies still, waiting for any indication that Henry is awake, but there’s nothing other than the sound of Alex’s heart pounding in his ears.

He carefully extricates himself from the sheets and sees Henry stretched out in the middle of the bed on his stomach, facing away from him. Alex leaves the room as quickly as possible.

His mind races as he stands in the shower with the hot water pelting his skin. As much as he tries not to, as much as he wills his semi to disappear, Alex keeps thinking of the way Henry’s lips felt against his when they kissed under the mistletoe, the way it felt to be enveloped by Henry and the way it felt to have Henry’s body pressed against his own.

He thinks of Henry wearing the ridiculous Christmas sweater, relaxed against the sofa with Alex’s toes tucked under his thigh, his thumb sweeping over Alex’s ankle. He thinks of sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with Henry in the hot tub, his cheeks tinged pink from the cool air, blue eyes sparkling with laughter.

He thinks of Henry sleeping in their shared bed, lips slack in slumber, and the smell of his shampoo. He thinks of waking to the weight of Henry’s body pressing him into the mattress. He thinks of Henry, hard against his ass and the way his throat had gone dry at the realisation of what was happening.

Fucking fuck.

Alex is most definitely hard now. He braces one hand against the tiles and wraps the other around himself, resolutely not thinking of Henry as he jerks himself off with firm strokes, blinking the water from his lashes.

He most definitely does not come with his mouth pressed into his bicep, muffling his moan, as visions of blue eyes, plush, pink lips and broad, freckled shoulders dance behind his eyelids.

He doesn’t.

Henry isn’t in the bedroom when Alex returns after his shower. Later, neither of them mention the fact that they’d woken up spooning while they eat breakfast side-by-side, talking with his dad, June and Nora about their plans for the day. They also fail to mention it when they’re alone, cleaning up the kitchen after breakfast.

Alex doesn’t exactly know how to raise it. What’s he supposed to say? “Hey, H. It’s totally okay that you woke up cuddling me like a fucking octopus. Actually, I think I liked it?”

In fact, after they clean up, Henry does a very good job of making sure he’s not left alone with Alex, busying himself by talking with June about the books they’re both reading and patiently looking at the records that Oscar is showing him.

By the time they’re getting ready for their lunch date, it feels like Henry has spent most of the morning basically ignoring him. Not enough to make anyone else think that there’s something wrong – Nora would probably tell him that he’s being needy – but Alex fucking knows Henry and he knows when he’s being avoided. He tells himself that even if this “date” is a complete fucking disaster – which, it shouldn’t be because they are still friends and nothing has happened – at least he’ll get his fix of Franklin Barbecue.

Henry has never been the chatty one in their relationship and generally balances Alex’s incessant need to fill the silence perfectly. While he’s driving, Alex keeps up a running commentary pointing out the park where he broke his arm jumping off the swings and the ice cream store where he stopped when he tried to run away when he was ten and June found him convincing the store manager to give him free ice cream. Then, there’s the intersection where he ran out of gas on the way to school and almost missed a final, and the lacrosse fields.

“H?” Alex asks tentatively once he’s parked the Jeep, unable to deal with Henry’s barely-there responses and the way he’s been glancing at Alex furtively before going back to staring out of the window. “Is something wrong? I know I’ve been yapping but you’ve been so quiet, even for you.”

He glances sideways at Henry, trying to gauge his reaction. Henry’s mouth pinches at the corner for a moment before he exhales noisily. “I should’ve known you’d notice. It’s, well, I expect you know anyway, and it’s rather awkward really…”

Alex can feel the anxiety rolling off him, so despite the fact that he desperately wants to know what Henry is thinking, he does what he does best and distracts him. “Is this where you tell me that you’re secretly a vigilante by night?”

Henry laughs, sharp and bright. It makes Alex feel like he’s glowing, like the ability to turn Henry’s mood around is a super power.

“Are you in witness protection? Secret royalty?”

“Alex,” Henry says, still laughing.

Fuck it. He’s gonna jump off the fucking cliff.

“Is it because we woke up with you cuddling me and then I fell off the bed trying to not to wake you up, even though you were awake and pretending not to be?”

Henry’s expression grows serious. “Alex, you must know that it was unintentional and in the moment, I just felt so terribly awkward. I didn’t know what to say so I decided it was best to say nothing and pretend I was still asleep. I apologise if I made you uncomfortable in any way. Truly.”

Alex shoves his shoulder lightly. “Don’t get all weird and formal about it, Fox. It’s fine. You were sleeping. Shit happens. Whatever, it’s fine. It’s not like it meant anything anyway, right?”

“Quite.” Henry doesn’t meet his gaze.

“Now, can we go get some fucking barbecue, sweetheart? I promised you a date.”

“You don’t have to—”

“Let me fucking woo you, baby,” Alex says, wiggling his eyebrows and grinning. “I told you I was taking you on a date, so that’s what we’re doing.”

“Alex, we’re not— That’s…” Henry clears his throat. “… unnecessary, but let’s go eat.”

With the tension between them broken, things feel easier, lighter. They talk while waiting in the line that winds around the building to order their food, bumping shoulders and making up stories about the people they see. All of the tables are full and Alex isn’t willing to let Henry leave him to reserve one, so they decide to take their food and have a picnic at the local park.

As time goes on, Alex realises he didn’t need to worry about tonight being a disaster. He and Henry have always just worked. They devour the ribs and brisket sandwiches and an unholy amount of potato salad and it’s just like it always is between them: effortless, like breathing.

Except for the moment when Henry groans in delight at the food and slowly licks barbecue sauce off his fingers and Alex forgets how to breathe. All he can think of, watching Henry’s tongue curl around his long fingers, is how it felt to have Henry pressed hard against him, and the images his imagination had graced him with in the shower.

Then, Henry leans over to gently wipe a bit of sauce from the corner of Alex’s mouth with his thumb, and his nearness makes Alex’s stomach swoop.

He shoves it all down though, in favour of lying beside Henry on the picnic rug, dappled sunlight falling on them both through the branches of the oak tree.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Alex says. It’s a game they’ve been playing for a long time. Sometimes it’s silly, sometimes it leads to revelations of memories and feelings they’ve never uttered to another soul.

“I’ve never been to Texas before.”

He looks at Henry and rolls his eyes. “I knew that. Try again.”

Henry props himself up on his elbow, a serious look on his face. His hair flops onto his forehead and Alex is struck by the way it seems to glow in the afternoon light. He makes eye contact with Alex, takes a deep breath and then says, very seriously, “You were right earlier. I do live a secret life as a vigilante.”

Alex snorts. “You’re a dick.”

“How could you say such a dreadful thing?” Henry exclaims dramatically, clutching at his imaginary pearls and rolling onto his back.

Alex flips onto his belly and props himself up on his elbows. He pokes Henry in the ribs. “Play the game properly.”

Henry squirms, but doesn’t move away. “I’ve never gone home with someone to meet their family before.”

“I knew that.”

“Perhaps, by now, you know everything about me.”

“Thank you for coming,” Alex offers sincerely. “It’s been nice.”

He nudges Henry’s socked foot with his own and doesn’t move it away. Henry lies down beside him again, close enough that their shoulders are touching.

“It really has been,” Henry agrees before prompting, “Your turn. Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

There’s a lot of things Alex could say that Henry doesn’t know about him.

He could tell Henry about the fact that he’s feeling overwhelmed and more than a little confused about everything right now, starting with the fact that he liked waking up in Henry’s arms and ending with the fact that he’s almost entirely certain that he’s bisexual. He wasn’t lying when he said to Henry a few days ago that it’s not something he’d ever really given a lot of thought to before. It’s just that after four days of pretending to be in a relationship with Henry, Alex has realised that he might actually want this for real. Maybe.

He doesn’t say any of those things.

What he says quietly is, “I’ve never brought anyone home to meet my parents before.”

Henry grins. “I knew that.”

“Can you sit still?” June complains as Alex accidentally kicks her Uno cards again when he changes position.

“I think you need to go outside,” Nora suggests drily. “You’re like a puppy. Someone take him outside to run off that energy.”

Alex glares at her. “Fuck off, I’m fine. My foot was just going dead.” Less than five minutes later, he throws a pile of blue cards down and declares, “I’m going for a run.”

Nora opens her mouth, presumably to say something but Alex cuts her off and snaps, “Don’t.”

“I wasn’t going to say anything!” She bats her eyelashes at him and June nudges her.

“Is everything okay?” Henry asks, frowning at him.

“Yeah, just restless.” It’s not a lie, exactly. Alex is feeling restless. He doesn’t know if it was waking up with Henry spooning him or their so-called date or watching Henry slot into his family so naturally, but he can’t stop thinking about him.

He only makes it to the dock before he hears June calling his name. He turns to find her dressed for a run, her long ponytail swishing behind her. “Alex, wait. I’ll come with you.”

Alex rolls his eyes. He doesn’t need a babysitter, even if it’s been ages since he’s been running with June, and he kind of misses her.

“Keep up then,” he says over his shoulder.

He’s faster than June is, but for the most part he sets a pace that he knows she can keep. There’s something about running that stills the normally cyclonic thoughts that bounce around his head like a pinball machine at any given time; something soothing about the rhythm of his footfalls and the feeling he gets when his muscles ache with exertion. June knows this better than anyone and they don’t even attempt to talk. There’s just the sound of their feet scuffing against the dirt trail in unison, Alex’s blood rushing in his ears and the occasional noise of birds calling as the sun sets.

Forty-five minutes later, Alex drops down onto the dock, lying on his back and trying to catch his breath. June lies beside him panting.

“Can we talk now, Lil Bit?” she asks, still a little breathless.

“It depends. What are we talking about?”

“You.”

Alex groans.

“What’s going on? And don’t tell me you’re fine,” June adds pointedly. “You could literally be on fire and you’d still say you’re fine.”

“I’m fine,” he says, just to annoy her. June rolls her eyes. “Nothing’s going on,” Alex insists.

“Then why have you and Henry been acting weird all day?”

Sometimes he hates that she knows him so well.

He doesn’t tell June everything because there are some things his big sister doesn’t need to know, but he tells her enough. He tells her what it’s felt like to have Henry slip seamlessly into their family, to have their parents seem so happy to have him around. He tells June about the way it’s felt the same as it always does with Henry – comfortable and right – except with this added dimension of having feelings that are most definitely not just platonic.

“So, why don’t you tell him instead of me?” she asks gently.

“I can’t tell him, Bug. What if I ruin everything? He’s my best friend. We live together and work together. I don’t want to make things awkward. I’d have to find somewhere else to live and a new job and— I can’t lose him.”

“You won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

“Alex,” June sits up, crossing her legs. “Maybe you haven’t noticed, but Henry has been looking at you like you’ve hung the moon for a very long time. Maybe for as long as you’ve known him.”

Alex sits up. “Bullshit.”

“If Nora were here, she’d tell you she’s been predicting this for a long time,” June says wryly.

“What are her stats?”

“So you’d believe it if Nora said it but not me?” She reaches out and tugs on one of his curls. “Gross, you’re all sweaty.”

He sticks his tongue out at her. “That’s what you get for trying to pull my hair. What are Nora’s numbers?”

June looks down before answering and Alex starts to wonder just how high Nora’s odds really are.

“She put 87 on the two of you kissing properly and getting together before you go back home and 91 on you realising that you have non-platonic feelings for Henry after the mistletoe kiss.” Her delivery is almost apologetic.

“I hate her.”

“No, you don’t,” June laughs.

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Talk to him. He loves you. Not like that,” June adds when Alex’s eyebrows shoot up. “I mean, maybe he does. I don’t know. But you’re clearly very important to each other. You’ll work this out. Even if I’m wrong – if Nora is wrong for once – I don’t think you’ll lose him.”

“Maybe,” Alex mutters.

“I’m going up to the house, are you coming?”

“Nah, gonna stay here. Might jump in the water to clear my head.”

“It’s freezing!”

“The water isn’t that cold.”

June was right. The water is really fucking cold. But in a good way. Invigorating.

Alex splashes around and floats on his back looking up at stars until movement on the dock catches his eye. Henry.

He swims over and climbs up the ladder.

“Hey.”

He doesn’t miss the way that Henry’s eyes drift down his body. Alex shivers as the cold air hits his skin, making goosebumps erupt all over, despite the fact that he feels like he’s burning under Henry’s gaze.

“Christ, you must be freezing,” Henry replies, wrapping a towel around Alex’s shoulders and rubbing his arms to warm him up.

“How’d you know I was swimming?”

“June. Do you want to stay down here or head back up to the house?” Henry asks him, his hands still firm and warm on Alex’s shoulders. Alex just barely resists the urge to sway into him.

“Can we stay here?” Alex asks.

He’s struck by the need to confess everything to Henry. Being by the lake – a place which is almost sacred to him; a place where he’s always been able to be himself; the place where he can just be Alex – seems like the best place to do it. He hopes it is.

“Of course, I thought you might.” Henry produces a hoodie from somewhere and gathers it up so that Alex can pop his head through it. When Alex looks down, he realises it’s Henry’s worn Oxford hoodie; the one that Alex likes to steal because it’s perfectly oversized.

Alex wraps the towel around his waist and sits down at the edge of the dock. He looks up at Henry and pats the wooden planks beside him. “Sit down, we can’t talk with you all the way up there. It’s like you’re a fucking giraffe, or something.”

“It’s hardly my fault that you decided to sit down, and my height is what it is,” Henry mutters, though he sits beside Alex anyway. He bumps his shoulder into Alex’s. “Are you feeling better after your run?”

“Yeah.” Alex doesn’t say anything else, just swings his legs over the water.

After a minute, Henry asks, “Are you sure? You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet since we got back from lunch. You’re not getting sick, are you?” He places a hand on Alex’s forehead.

“I’m fine,” Alex says softly. “Just thinking.”

“Don’t hurt yourself,” Henry quips.

He’d miss this, Alex thinks. If he ruined everything. He’d miss the banter, the way they switch between serious discussions and teasing each other on a dime. He’d miss the way things with Henry just work.

He knows Henry is expecting another barb from him, it’s the way they are; it’s why Henry’s doing it, to try and get Alex out of his head.

The thing is, as much as Alex wants to confess everything to Henry, to tell him how he feels and seek the absolution of knowing his feelings are reciprocated, he’s scared. He’s scared that he’s wrong, that June and Nora are wrong. He’s scared of losing Henry.

Alex sighs and flops his head onto Henry’s shoulder instead of responding. “Tell me about the stars. Tell me the stories your dad told you.”

He’s heard the stories before, sitting on the fire escape of their apartment building, gazing at a sky too bright to see the stars.

He can feel Henry move, like he’s twisting to try and see Alex’s expression, but Alex doesn’t lift his head from Henry’s shoulder.

After a moment, Henry catches Alex’s swinging foot with his own and says, “Alright, love,” then starts telling Alex about the constellations.

Sitting at the edge of the dock overlooking the lake, pressed against Henry’s side with their feet linked and swinging over the water, Alex doesn’t really hear the words. He just listens to the cadence of Henry’s voice, letting it wash over him. This is better than absolution, he tells himself. It’s better to hang onto the certainty and comfort of Henry, instead of risking an extremely awkward three-hour flight home and losing him altogether.

They’ve been home for three days and Alex has spent all of that time relieved that he didn’t say anything to Henry. He’s now convinced that he was just swept up in the romance of Christmas and pretending to date Henry. It wasn’t real. Life isn’t a fucking Hallmark movie.

What is real is sleepily drinking the coffee Henry makes for him in the mornings, cooking dinner for them both after work and then spending their evenings half-heartedly arguing over whether to watch Bake Off or Love Island before agreeing to watch repeats of RuPaul’s Drag Race and texting Nora their commentary instead.

Alex was certain he’d made the right decision.

Or he was, right up until Henry emerged from his bedroom ready for the shelter’s New Year’s Eve fundraiser wearing a tuxedo and looking like fucking James Bond. Alex’s stomach feels like there’s an Olympic trampolining event happening inside it.

He lets out a low whistle. “You got a fairy godmother stashed away in your bedroom or something?”

“Do I look okay? It’s been a long time since I’ve worn one of these,” Henry says, smoothing down his lapels. “Is my bow tie straight?”

“It’s the straightest thing about you, sweetheart,” Alex quips. “You probably shouldn’t go outside like that though, you might get mobbed.”

“You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m serious.”

“You’re terrible and you’re also not ready to leave yet.” Henry gestures to the bow tie that Alex is holding in his hands.

Alex shrugs. “I kept fucking it up.”

“Come here. I’ll help you.”

Henry takes the bow tie out of Alex’s hands and loops it behind Alex’s neck. “Chin up,” he instructs before nimbly knotting the bow tie.

It’s entirely possible that Alex holds his breath throughout the process. Henry is standing close enough that Alex can see the freckles that dust his nose and cheeks and the way his eyelashes are blond at the tips. There’s a little crease between his brows and he’s pulling his lower lip through his teeth as he focuses on tying the bow tie.

Alex wants to kiss him.

He shakes his head as if it will physically remove the thought.

“Stay still, I’m almost done,” Henry insists.

“Sorry.”

He wants to kiss Henry?

Alex spends the duration of the gala putting on his most charming smile, drinking champagne, laughing at unfunny jokes and flirting with rich, older women – and the occasional man. They probably only want to donate to the shelter for the kudos of supporting something that might pass as trendy amongst their peers, although Alex doesn’t really give a shit why they donate, only that they do. At Pez’s insistence, he gives a speech telling their potential benefactors exactly what their donations will allow the shelter to do for the children and young adults who frequent it. He accidentally declares his bisexuality to the room in the process.

Throughout it all, beneath the buzz of champagne and the hum of the party, there’s a steady thrum of HenryHenryHenry running through his mind.

Does he really want to kiss Henry? Is it just because Henry is objectively hot and his general level of attractiveness (extremely high on a bad day) is off the charts when he’s wearing a tuxedo? Or are the feelings that Alex thought he had at the lake house real?

What Alex needs, is a fucking list.

He swipes another glass of champagne off the nearest waiter’s tray and heads for the stairs that he knows open onto the rooftop.

1. Henry is his person.

3. Henry at the lake house made Alex feel all kinds of things.

4. The lake house wasn’t real.

5. Henry’s lips are very soft.

6. He wants to kiss Henry again.

Alex really wants to kiss him again.

He pushes the door open and finds that he’s not alone. There’s someone at the far end of the rooftop.

Henry.

Alex would recognise his profile and the line of his long legs anywhere. He’s standing with his elbows propped up on the wall, his hair shining in the moonlight.

Maybe he’d subconsciously known that Henry was up here. Maybe he was drawn to him by some internal force. Maybe it was just a coincidence.

His dad doesn’t believe in coincidences. Alex doesn’t know what he believes.

Either way, Henry is here and Alex is fast reaching the conclusion that he’s been in denial this entire time.

“Jesus fuck!” Alex cries when he smashes his shin on a low bench.

“There’s a bench there,” Henry says wryly. The asshole doesn’t even turn around but Alex knows he’s smirking.

“I know that. Now.”

He limps his way over to Henry and props his forearms on the wall, standing close enough that their arms are touching. Henry leans into him.

“Sorry I left you down there,” Henry apologises. “I just…”

“Needed to get away from the crowd?” Alex suggests.

Henry gives him a small smile. “Not exactly a surprise to you.”

“Not really.” Alex turns to face him. “H?”

“Hmm?”

“What if it was real?” he asks softly.

“I’m sorry?” Henry turns to him, looking a little confused.

“What if it was real?” he repeats, not realising that he’s started a conversation in the middle, rather than at the beginning.

“Alex, what on earth do you mean?”

Alex takes a deep breath. Time to fucking leap.

“I mean, the lake house. What if it was real? All of it.” He gestures between them.

Henry frowns. “Alex…”

“I’m serious, H. You’re my best friend, but you’re so much more than that to me. I didn’t realise it until I was pretending you were my boyfriend, but I want that. Us. I want you. I love what we already have, but I want more. Bringing you home to my family made me realise that. I convinced myself when we came back that I just got caught up in the magic of Christmas but I’m not gonna lie, seeing you in this fucking tux was a bit of a come to Jesus moment.” He laughs, reaching out to tug on Henry’s jacket and he knows he’s babbling but he can’t stop. “I just— Sweetheart, this might sound stupid, because you know that I love you. You know how important you are to me. But I think I fell a little bit in love with you at the lake house and I was too scared to tell you that on the dock that last night in Texas because I didn’t want to lose you if you don’t feel the same way. June said that I shouldn’t be worried but how could I not be? Henry, you—”

“Do you ever shut up?” Henry asks fondly, wrapping a hand around Alex’s arm and tugging him closer.

“No? I mean, do you want me to? I can stop talking. Maybe.” Alex bites his lip to force himself to be quiet. His heart is beating so fast that it feels like it might burst right out of his chest.

Henry cups his cheek and uses his thumb to ease Alex’s lower lip out from behind his teeth. “Can I kiss you?”

Alex nods.

This is nothing like the mistletoe kiss. That kiss was chaste and tentative, both of them careful not to cross any boundaries.

Now, Henry kisses Alex with a determination that takes him by surprise. His lips are every bit as soft as Alex remembers, sliding against Alex’s own with the perfect amount of pressure. Alex can’t help but imagine that they’d feel like heaven elsewhere on his body. When he slots his hand into the soft dip of Henry’s waist, the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric of his shirt, Henry sighs into his mouth, the sound searing itself into Alex’s brain. He cradles Alex’s jaw, angling it upwards as he consumes him and Alex melts into it. He feels like there are thousands of tiny bubbles bursting all over his skin, like the delicate fizz of champagne.

“Wait,” Alex murmurs when they part for breath.

“Is everything okay?” Henry asks, concerned.

“Yes. But this means you want this too, right? Like, tomorrow I’m telling everyone that you’re my boyfriend. Well, maybe not everyone because my parents already think that but, like, everyone else.”

Henry laughs and kisses his forehead. “Yes, love. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

Alex reaches up to crash their lips together, pressing their bodies closer. Henry gets a thigh between his legs and Alex buries his face in Henry’s neck, tasting the skin there before Henry claims his mouth again, laughing into the kiss. It makes Alex laugh too because joy is contagious, and they wind up smiling too much to kiss properly.

He thinks that maybe he should just kiss Henry like this forever. Maybe he could. Maybe kissing Henry on a clear winter’s night with fireworks lighting up the sky is what forever feels like.