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(we lose our mind in) a city of roses

Summary:

Henry is quiet for a moment, and then lets out a huffed laugh. “What?”
“Nothing.” He shrugs, “Just, ah, I have a strong sense of déjà vu.”

or; alex and henry have to hide in a storage closet. again.

Notes:

Title is from 'Fire on Fire' by Sam Smith

This fic stemmed from a silly thought that came to me — What if Henry and Alex had to hide in a closet again, but this time they were in a relationship? — and then I wrote it.

I spent half an hour on Google street view for this, even though 99% of you have never been to Franklin Barbecue and do not know the area. Oh well.

Thank you to the lovely people of the RWRB Discord server for putting up with my incessant questions when I was writing this.

Work Text:

“I told you.” Alex grins triumphantly, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. “Worth every minute.” 

Downtown Austin is bathed in the early afternoon sun, and Alex is completely content. In the months that had passed since the election, his life had been nothing short of hectic: planning for the inauguration, bouncing from New York to DC, helping Henry with the shelter, completing First Son duties. He hadn’t minded, truly, but when Henry had suggested Alex finally make good on the offer to take him to Austin, he had jumped on the idea. 

Despite visiting for election night, and the trip to his childhood home, Alex hadn't had the time to give Henry the real Austin experience before hopping back on a plane to deal with the post-election fallout. He remembers promising his boyfriend on the airstrip that they’d come back soon, before he was promptly swept into a breathtaking kiss — which they could actually do now without fear of being spotted — and shoved in the direction of the stairs of the jet. 

By the time they finally found a gap in their quite ridiculous schedules to take a long weekend, it was early April, which was quite fortunate as the weather was adequate enough to enjoy the Texas sun without turning a certain prince an alarming shade of red.

(“We wouldn’t want it to be too hot you, Your Royal Pastiness.” 

“Shut up, Alex.”)

They had touched down the day before, and then Alex had woken Henry at six in the morning to drag him into the queue for Franklin Barbecue, just like he’d promised. It was all quite bizarre, the First Son of the United States and the Prince of England in a six-hour queue for some brisket, and Henry had looked downright horrified when Alex had informed him that the restaurant didn’t open for another four hours, but it was also entirely perfect. Despite the Secret Service agents tailing them and the phone cameras pointed in their direction, it was the closest he had felt to them just being a normal couple since, well, ever

“Well, I still think six hours is a little extreme.” Henry huffs, taking the napkin out of Alex’s hand and swiping over the corner of his mouth where he had missed. Alex’s grin slides into a soft smile. “But I concede, it was very good. Even if the people of Austin now have pictures of me eating a beef rib.” 
“Sweetheart, you looked hot doing it. And if it makes it to the press, you’ll seem down to earth. It’s a win-win.”

Henry lets out a laugh at that, which Alex always considers a victory. He’s of the opinion that Henry should laugh all the time, because not only does it sound fucking angelic, it also means that he’s happy. And all Alex wants is for him to be happy.

Turning to the table behind them, he finds Cash talking intently with someone on his earpiece. It doesn’t look too concerning, but it’s enough to make Alex frown. The two other plainclothes agents and one of Henry’s PPOs in the corner seem to be engaged in serious conversation also. “Cash? Everything good? We’re ready to head out.” He inquires, voice low, and watches his agent stand and come round to their bench. 
“The paparazzi have shown up. We’re working on getting you out safely.”

Alex hears Henry let out a noise of frustration, but he simply rolls his eyes. It’s not unexpected, the media have been obsessed with them since the email leak, hell, since the beginning of their faux friendship, and the attention certainly hadn’t subsided since. It’s tolerable, or it might be if it didn’t make Henry so anxious. Alex has half a mind to run out of the front door and let the photographers get some good shots so that his boyfriend can sneak out the back way. 

“Fuck this.” He sighs, patting Henry’s hand in subtle reassurance. “We were noticed ages ago, I’m kinda surprised they didn’t turn up until now. How many? We could let them get some pictures and then–”
“A lot. I’m not convinced it’s safe enough to move you.” Cash grunts, looking behind him. “We’re already short on security because of–”
“Cash. Please, just get us to the car. It’s fine.” Alex pleads, cutting him off and climbing to his feet, entwining Henry’s fingers in his own. He knows by now that physical touch grounds his boyfriend just as much as it grounds himself. 

There’s a pause as the agent considers, and then he turns away and holds a digit to his earpiece. Alex looks at Henry fully now, freeing one hand and placing them both on the other’s hips. “Hi.” He mumbles, watching blue eyes dilate slightly when catching his own.
“Hello.” Henry smiles, all crinkly and soft. “Thank you for bringing me here. It really was very good.”
“My pleasure, baby. I’m glad you enjoyed it.” A pull at his arm alerts him to Cash’s attempts to capture his attention, and he wistfully lets go of Henry’s waist. 

“The road is too busy to bring the car closer, so you’ll have to walk there. We’ll stick close to you.” He briefs them, waiting for a nod from Alex before heading for the door.

Alex has dealt with a lot of paparazzi in his time. It’s something that comes with the position he was eager to fill. But a street full of photographers when he has three Secret Service agents and two Personal Protection Officers — courtesy of Henry — to his name is a little overwhelming. He feels Henry tense up beside him, and he once again tangles their fingers together. Cash is closest to them as they wrestle their way through the crowds, but he can’t see much else except the flash of cameras. 

He’s starting to regret not pushing Henry to bring more security to Texas. 

It would be too much even for him, but he can feel Henry shaking, iron-grip on his hand, and if this keeps up much longer he may be dealing with the paparazzi and a panic attack. Which is, well, not something he thinks Henry might appreciate on the front cover of whatever magazines these assholes worked for. And Alex realises, quite suddenly, that there’s no way in hell that they’re getting to the car like this. 

He thinks Cash is quite aware of it too, because he feels a hand on his forearm and then he’s being dragged down a side path, Henry pressed close to him. The photographers aren’t far behind, calling for the pair to turn around and give them a good shot. Alex very much wants to punch one of them. He’s angry, sure, but he’s also more than a little terrified, because it’s never been this bad before.

“Turn right and you’ll see a car garage entrance. There’s a door to a storage closet on the wall. Don’t come out until I come get you.” Cash says right into his ear, and then lets go of him and joins the other agents in pushing back the crowd. 

For half a second, Alex hesitates, not quite registering what he’s been told, and then he’s yanking Henry with him, ignoring the noise of protest he hears. He takes a right, and is unsurprised to see the car park he was promised, eyes catching on the metal handle of a door straight ahead. It’s unlocked already, so he hauls the pair of them into the dark of the closet, shuts the door, and they fall to the floor with an unceremonious thud

“Ow.” Henry groans. 

The closet itself is lit only by the thin stream of light coming in from under the door, which is not very much at all. It’s almost pitch black, and all Alex can make out is Henry’s figure near him and what seems to be cleaning supplies. 

Alex breathes a laugh, sitting up, then feels a strange urge to cry. He doesn’t. Instead, he shuffles over to the outline of a person and helps him into a similar position. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He mumbles, “Are you okay?”
“I think I’ll live. That was… a lot.”
“I know. Guess we’re stuck here for a while. Cash must have canvassed the area while we were in line.” Henry is quiet for a moment, and then lets out a huffed laugh. “What?”
“Nothing.” He shrugs, “Just, ah, I have a strong sense of déjà vu.”

Of course. The hospital, where they had made a public appearance whilst still staunchly frenemies. Their bonding time in that storage closet had broken the thick wall of ice between them, and Alex forgets sometimes how thankful he is for the kid who brought in fireworks. 

Oh yeah. You were a right pain in my ass then.” Alex grins, and even though he can’t really see Henry he knows that he looks completely aghast. 
I was– Are you– I can’t believe…” He’s spluttering, and if there was any light casting into the small room the tips of his ears would be visibly red. “Alex, if there had been a gunman, you would have made our presence immediately known and probably gotten us killed. You were also being a nuisance.”

Alex really does laugh at that, throwing his head back. “Oooh, you wanted to kiss me so bad.” He gives a smirk, his eyes slowly adjusting to the low light. There’s a bottle of bleach near his foot. He kicks it. 
“I– Well, yes.” Henry blinks, the outline of his chin tipped towards the floor. There’s a pause, and Alex feels his chest constrict at the candid response. Oh, this man. He shifts until he feels their bodies touching, and Henry places a gentle hand on his thigh.

“Are you really okay, sweetheart?” He places his left hand on top of Henry’s. “Did you bring your meds? I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect so many paps, I just wanted you–”
Alex. It’s quite alright. You have nothing to apologise for. I’m fine. A little shaken, but that’s all, and it’s certainly not your fault. Honestly, I’m rather regretting cutting down my security to give us some space.” Henry takes his free hand and finds Alex’s cheek, letting his thumb slide infinitesimally back and forth over his cheekbone. They’re close enough that Alex can actually make out the face in front of him, and he leans forwards to seal their lips in a kiss, feeling Henry’s hand leave his thigh to hold the other side of his face. Alex curls his fingers into the fabric of his shirt, pulling them impossibly closer, and then, with a devilish smirk against the pink of Henry’s mouth, tugs the material and sends the pair of them rolling across the concrete floor. 

There’s nowhere really for them to go, since the space in the room is rather limited, and so they stop fairly abruptly, Henry’s face above his and their thighs slotted together. “Alex.” He scolds, but there’s no heat behind it, before ducking his head down to kiss him again, just a soft peck. Alex smiles, then tilts his head.
“I have no idea why we weren’t making out the first time around. Seems like such a waste of valuable time. Should’ve slipped you the tongue, gotten you all worked up in a hospital storage closet.” 

Henry chuckles, giving an affectionate eye roll, but sounds genuine when he speaks. “You must know I would have let you.”
“I know.” Alex replies, but it’s tender, no hint of teasing in his voice, nudging their noses together. He goes to touch their lips again, but Henry pulls back slightly. 
“And you, ah, you did. Get me worked up, I mean.” He still can’t see well enough to determine any colours — except, well, black — but he can practically feel Henry’s blush. Pushing up on his arms, Alex slips out from under him and sits up, keeping his face at a close proximity to the other’s. 

“Really?” Alex grins, the teasing edge back, and Henry lets out a groan of what could only be regret. 

“Yes, you bumptious arse, believe it or not rolling around in a closet with the boy I’d been hopelessly infatuated with for years is something that made me feel rather flustered.” Henry retorts, and he cackles, trying to ignore the feeling in his stomach.

It creeps in sometimes, the guilt. Alex knows how hostile he had been towards the prince over the years they had known one another, even when Henry had been nothing but polite. And yes, he had his reasons, but he knows full well that they could have resolved things long before they had if he hadn’t been such a stubborn asshole. Not that Henry had been much better, running away at any given opportunity. They’re better now, he thinks. That’s why they work together. They make each other brave.

“Understandable.” Alex tips his head in a nod, smirk still plastered to his face as he watches the outline of Henry sit down next to him, stretching his legs out. 

In one smooth movement, he spins a leg over his body and straddles Henry’s lap, hearing the sharp inhale as he does so. Henry’s hands fly to his thighs, holding him steady, and he brings their faces close. 
“Hello.” Henry murmurs, tracing his fingers up the length of Alex’s upper legs to rest comfortably on his hips. 

It is completely ludicrous to Alex that somebody could be so beautiful even when most of their person is cast in darkness. And yet, it does not matter that he cannot discern most of him, because the empty space is filled in with perfect renditions from his mind. Alex knows each curve, each divot. He could map the expanse of Henry’s skin, spread it out across a table and pinpoint the dip of his waist, the corner of his mouth, the small of his back. He could paint great landscapes with the colours of his body: vivid blues and soft porcelains.

So he sees Henry, all of him, even in the shadows. He creates the jigsaw pieces in his mind to fill in the blanks, the outline learned from his carefully revised memory. 

It’s not something he can express with words, so he doesn’t, instead pressing forward and bringing their lips together. Henry leans into it, grip tightening on his waist. Taking his hands from their grasp on Henry’s neck, Alex slips his fingers into sandy hair, revelling in the feel of his soft locks and giving a slight tug. At this, Henry lets out a noise, shifting his hips slightly, and Alex takes the opportunity to brush their tongues together. 

They definitely should have done this last time.

Henry seems to agree, sliding a hand under the hem of his shirt as he kisses back fervently, and Alex’s breathing stutters ever so slightly at the contact. He takes Henry’s bottom lip between his teeth and pulls, feeling hips jutting into his own, and then dips to the smooth stretch of his neck, letting his teeth graze across it. 
Alex.” Henry gasps, bringing a hand to his curls, blue eyes fluttering closed. “Alex–”

There’s a heavy knock at the door — three bangs, as Cash was known to do — and they shoot up straight, Alex detaching his lips from the skin of the tendon that spans between Henry’s neck and shoulder and whipping his head around. The handle lowers, and suddenly sunlight is flooding the small room, painful on their eyes. 

They must paint a salacious picture, Alex planted on Henry’s lap, knees bracketing him, both their hairs an unruly mess, all flushed cheeks and plump lips. It’s funny, or it should be, but Cash simply looks at them, raises an eyebrow, and gestures them out. “All clear. The paparazzi seem to have gotten a tip-off that you’d been spotted at Waterloo Park.” The tone of his voice tells Alex that he’s looking at the source of the tip. “The car is out front. Let’s go.” 

Alex climbs to his feet, offering a hand to Henry, chucking at the state of him before running his fingers through blonde locks to flatten it down. 
“Come on, Your Highness.” He calls, strolling out into the sun. “I still want to show you the Texas Capital.”

Cash and Henry look horrified.