Chapter Text
Alex threw himself into his work wholeheartedly. However, this meant the moments his mind strayed to Henry—remembering that Henry was in town, in Alex’s own room—his mind slammed into a molasses mire, addictively sweet and unwilling to wrench itself out.
When he, Nora, and June returned to their vehicle after the meeting which lasted far too long for Alex’s whiplashing sanity, a silence eclipsed the car. Until June broke it. “That might’ve been a bit much, don’t you think?”
Alex had his laptop on his thighs, adding a few final notes to the meeting’s brief. He glanced up, realizing she had spoken to him. “You asked me to handle the meeting. I handled it.”
“Uh huh. I remember you being a charismatic team player, not a tyrant.”
“We’re already a week behind schedule. We gained a couple days back, hopefully.”
Alex could feel Nora and June exchanging silent looks. Without looking up from his laptop, he groaned, “Don’t think too loudly on my account.”
Nora said, “If the odds of Henry leaving his family and title are ninety-four percent, where does that leave you?”
Alex stared over his laptop, only to find June stupefied by this declaration as well. He pointed between them. “You two need to work on your telepathy.”
June huffed, “Well, what are you doing, Alex? Because it looks like Henry’s hanging by two threads: Pez, and you. Meanwhile, you’re only yourself again when he’s around.”
Nora corroborated, “Yourself, being just as ruthless and know-it-all as ever, but also kind, compassionate, and generous to a fault.”
“Are you done?” he pleaded flatly.
“No,” June cornered. “Henry’s withering away and you’re turning into a political weapon.”
“A monstrous douche bag,” Nora elaborated but just as easily chimed, “It’s very Patroclus and Achilles coded. Are we not talking about my ninety-four percent?”
Alex sighed and tried to focus on the brief. “Never tell me the odds, please. Especially when they’ve already been disproven.”
“Disproven?” Nora repeated coolly, like a warning or a challenge.
Alex answered briskly. “He didn’t leave his family two years ago—not that I asked him to—”
“What did you ask him?” Nora cornered. “We never pestered you about your break up. It’s time. Give us the details.”
Alex shut his laptop and held onto the hinge. “I spent over a year rolling the details over and over in my head. I’m tired.”
June frowned. “Do you not remember?”
“Of course I remember.”
“It was a big event for you. Plus, it was two years ago. We wouldn’t blame you for forgetting—”
“I remember,” he bit out, “losing what is probably the love of my life, and my best friend in one night. I don’t have the strength to do that again. If you hate this version of me so much, it’s too bad, because this is the person who is able to keep going. And since I’m remembering it, I didn’t lose anyone. I was told to leave and he turned his back on me.”
“What else was said?” Nora insisted.
“Why do you need to know?”
June finished, “I’m sure Henry’s capable of wrecking his own life, but we know you better. We know you are too much like mom when you’re pissed off and defensive.”
Alex grimaced at the insinuation. “Are you saying it’s my fault?”
“I’m saying your mouth runs away from you. It always has. Sometimes you don’t catch up. The only difference you’ve made over the years is accumulating the debate skills to make your arguments sound reasonable.”
“Some of those arguments earned mom her reelection,” he reminded.
June wasn’t having it. “That doesn’t make you right. It doesn’t make mom right. You’ve always wanted to make our mom proud but don’t be the Claremont attack dog.”
Alex did not like that statement, but it concluded the conversation in the car, so he let it stand. He also…did not like being angry at them. Or at Henry. He wanted to go back to this morning, to the simplicity of a bath with Mcflurries. Cutting the world down to just the two of them, and the Dynamite Five or whatever the fuck the press used to call the gang of himself, Henry, Percy, June, and Nora. It sounded so…infantile now. Fun names for kids waiting to grow into the shoes to walk with the big leagues.
What was the word Henry liked to use? Daft. That’s how Alex felt. A wave of realism made him feel like his head wasn’t on his shoulders. That his ability to make rational decisions had been knocked out and he was only just now noticing. But not in the way Nora and June accused him; he felt lost at sea. No idea what direction to go, clouds covered the sky so he couldn’t use the stars, and he didn’t have an anchor to wait out the storm. His lightning didn’t have a place to land. There was no going back, but he did not know what forward looked like.
The quiet in the car was almost excruciating. He didn’t want to be scrutinized; the media did that often enough. But as he stared blindly out the window, Alex also did not know what he expected to return to. An empty apartment? Henry turning flapjacks in the kitchenette?
June and Nora went somewhere—he did not pay attention where—while he went up into the building. The higher he went, the more his legs and chest burned, his mind weighing heavier and heavier throughout his limbs. By the time Alex made it up to the door and handled the key, he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what mask to wear. The charming and warm First Son? The austere, aloof lawyer and promising future politician? Then again, his masks always failed wherever Henry was concerned. Like a magic trick, his practiced façades vanished so he was just…Alex. Blundering, self-conscious, over-eager—
Alex stepped into the apartment, locked onto his bedroom door mostly shut—and found Henry lying in his bed, asleep. The air seeped out of his lungs like he’d been holding it for a long time. He felt relief. He felt stupid. Henry lay on his stomach, one pillow turned vertically to support his body while he clasped the other under his arm, part of his face pressed into Alex’s smell.
Alex stripped down, shedding the clothes the city and offices had touched until he stepped into the bathtub for a quick wash. Quick enough that he could dry off and slide into bed naked before Henry woke up on his own. He started planting kisses from Henry’s hand, all the way up his arm. When his lips moved over the fabric of the sleeve, he rubbed Henry’s back, long ellipses between his shoulder blades to his lumber.
Henry’s eyes opened somewhere in the middle of it, his muscles subtly stiffening with the jolt of consciousness before smoothly relaxing. Alex lifted off him so Henry could turn over, groggy eyes blinking at him. Alex sank onto Henry’s chest, resting his head on his sternum while Henry’s arms enfolded him.
It was easy. So goddamn easy with Henry. Or—easy might not be the right word but…right. It felt right with Henry. Like Alex’s soul had finally reached water in a desert. Sinking down to rest on Henry’s body made Alex feel like the anchor in the water, finding the unexpected safety and calm of the seafloor.
“How’d it go?” Henry asked.
Alex’s mind tried to replay the day’s meeting. He found he could not recollect all of it apart from key moments. “Fine. Objectively.”
A pause as Henry absorbed that. “Subjectively?”
Alex’s fingertips traced Henry’s sleeve as he considered what to say. But he was not on a stage, nor in front of a camera. He did not wear a mask. “I was told I could’ve been nicer.”
“By whom?”
“June and Nora.”
“Oh.” Henry lifted Alex’s head with his deep breath. “We all have bad days.”
“I wasn’t having a bad day.”
Henry did not say anything for a while. Alex could not blame him; he did not want to talk about work, either. Then Henry asked, “Are you still not having a bad day?”
Alex shut his eyes against Henry’s body. “I’m naked in bed with you. This is my ideal.”
Henry’s head perked up to look down at their bodies, earning a snort from Alex. The line of Alex’s spine and hillocks of his derriere were a wonderful sight to wake up to. With an appreciative hum, his head fell back down. His fingertips started to drag across Alex’s shoulders, the ridges of his shoulder blades, wandering up his nape and down his spine. The slow, methodical path cleared Alex’s thoughts and evened out his breathing.
He dozed. He dozed until he realized he was dozing and Alex forced his eyes open. He lifted his head to set his chin on Henry’s sternum, and found his eyes open at the ceiling. “What are you thinking about?”
Henry’s eyes wandered as if he read something on the ceiling or searched for a way to answer. “I’m trying not to think.”
Alex sighed through his nose. “How do you do that?”
“I don’t.”
One of Alex’s brows twitched, understanding that all too well. He leaned off of Henry to roll onto the pillow next to him. He listened to the empty apartment, confirming they still had the place to themselves.
“Why did you move to Namibia?”
Alex almost elaborated on how it seemed like a random place to go, or perhaps only random to someone out of the loop for two years—
“I told my brother.”
Alex curled his arm underneath his head to look at him. “Told him…?”
“That I’m gay. Two years ago.”
Alex…teetered into being impressed. Not only about Henry coming out to Philip, but also how he did not evade the topic by discussing real estate. “How’d it go?”
Henry stayed looking at the ceiling. “Not well. The institution really has him brainwashed. It was nothing I hadn’t heard before, but…it still hurt, coming out of his mouth.”
Alex…had not expected Philip to be Henry’s breaking point. “Do you regret telling him?”
Henry swallowed thickly. “Yes and no. He’s my brother. One of my first memories is of him holding me after I became overwhelmed at an event. I know his foundation, but not the person who’s been built upon it. I guess…the reality of that made me feel unsafe. Or. Unable to wear the mask of an imposter anymore. So, I left.”
Part of Alex felt relieved. The rest felt sad for him. June was always on his side, even when she disagreed with him. He didn’t know who he would be if he didn’t have his family supporting him. Well. Nora and June were ready to throw him into the Hudson, but Alex still got to be Alex in his worst form.
Henry’s worst form wasn’t his sexuality, though. Henry was an innately warm person who remained conscientious about people’s welfare even while being in regular levels of his own discomfort. His sexuality provided a facet of himself that satisfied Alex’s needy indulgences. The way he learned Alex’s smells, from the deodorant he wore on casual days, to the Santal 33 he wore with his suits. Even the summer stink from playing volleyball in the yard of the lake house, outright commenting on it before he kissed Alex silly anyways.
The way he used to send Alex copies of books.
The way he kissed Alex first, through a frustrated haze of alcohol because Alex couldn’t catch a hint after all the Bowie, Byron, and Priscilla. Because Henry wanted a piece of Alex, just once, and he’d allowed himself to have it. Therein changing Alex’s world forever.
Henry at his best was brave, and sweet, and drove Alex up a wall in the best way. He pushed Alex around, and opened his eyes. He stood his ground when Alex was being a shit and needed the buffer.
Henry at his worst…he ran when Alex needed him to stay. He stayed in a stuffy old castle when Alex begged him to move.
“You’re dreadfully quiet.”
Alex shook his head a little. “I’m just…really confused by Namibia.”
Henry turned his head to see him. “That was rather the point. I sought a property with…nothing. No memories. No expectations. Just sunrises and sunsets and the constant worry that David is going to be over-confident with a jackal.”
The last part blindsided Alex so much that he sputtered and covered his face with a hand. “Jackals? Are those the local pests?”
“Antelope are far more brazen than anyone gives them credit. I’ve heard hyenas in the distance, but David’s the real pest of the property.”
Alex lowered his hand, and feeling his eyes on him, Henry’s eyes flicked to meet him. “You really live in Africa.”
Henry nodded a little, unsure what Alex was asking or where he was going with this. Alex asked, “Is that where you’re going after this?”
Henry’s spirit receded behind his eyes, chewing the inside of his lip as he shook his head. “Not immediately. I have work to do. I know it’s late, but congratulations on the reelection.”
Alex’s hand reached over Henry to scoop behind his nape as he said, “I don’t wanna talk about work,” and kissed him. Henry let himself be kissed, his neck long beneath Alex’s palm, which eventually slid down over his chest. In the humid space between their lips, Alex informed, “We’re the only ones here.”
He gave Henry a moment to process that—
Henry surged up to capture Alex’s lips. Their heads rocked together, swiftly growing ravenous as Henry raised a leg to kick down the bedcovers to free himself and roll on top of Alex. Alex’s mouth opened the same time Henry’s tongue tasted his lips. Alex’s hands traveled up Henry’s thighs as their tongues fucked, kissing sloppily and hungry and honest. Alex’s fingertips went under Henry’s shirt. Henry leaned back, lips red and shining, to remove it.
They devoured each other with the same familiarity as they had in Paris, but with the same clumsiness of relearning one another. Henry crawled down Alex’s body, inhaling the fragrance of his skin with every kiss. He left wet prints from his tongue tasting him: Alex’s chest next to a nipple, lower down on a rib, Alex’s hipbone, and then he took all of Alex’s cock into his mouth. Alex’s head craned back, jaw slack as he relearned—intimately—how good Henry was at giving head.
Why aren’t you in Paris? Isn’t that where you wanted to live? Alex’s mind whispered, but he ignored it to exhale raggedly, “Come back up here.”
Henry looked up at him, eyes heavy and drunk on Alex while a shiny spit thread connected his beautiful mouth to Alex’s cockhead. Alex could stare at that alone for as long as Henry let him, but he wiped his mouth and threw his pajama pants to his ankles before kicking out of them and climbing back onto Alex and straddling him. Alex sat up, framing Henry’s head in his hands and kissing him like Henry held an oasis in that mouth.
Why can’t you sleep? Did you eat while I was gone? Alex brain wondered, but aloud he said, “Condoms and…lube…your side.”
Henry reached under his ring for the bedside drawer. Alex lay back, spoiled by Henry rolling the condom on him. His chest rose and fell, his old house key fallen behind his shoulder as Henry fingered himself. Alex reached for the lube bottle and swiped his thumb over his manicured fingertips to be sure they were still short enough. He slotted them between Henry’s fingers, but Henry removed his hand to let Alex do it. To let Alex prove how he knew Henry’s body.
What are you exhausting yourself on? Do you overwork yourself this much to forget me?
Alex’s brows furrowed in the gorgeous agony of Henry taking Alex inside him. The front of Alex’s brain focused on Henry’s face and body, his pink cheeks and dark cock swinging with the little movements of getting comfortable and starting a rhythm. The back of Alex’s brain wanted to be just as much in Henry’s mind as his body.
Henry rode him and Alex’s mind went blissfully empty apart from meeting Henry’s tempo, which quickly turned impatient and merciless until he slowed down. An incredulous moan ripped out of Alex at Henry’s control, his desire to make this last longer. Henry’s eyes locked onto him and he leaned forward, poising one arm next to Alex while the other raked a hand over his hair. Alex turned his head into the touch, mind ricocheting between chasing Henry’s thrusts and trying to respect his slower speed…
Alex grasped Henry’s forearm, moving his hand to the hair above his nape. Henry gripped it, holding Alex’s throat open as he gradually revived his pace. It did not take long for them to thrust together, Henry back and Alex up into him. A moan rolled out of Henry as his eyes started to clamp shut and Alex was gone. Henry’s voice had Alex’s fingertips dimpling Henry’s hips as his thrusts stuttered and he came, hard.
As much as Alex wanted to lie in the orgasmic haze, Henry hadn’t cum yet. It was his turn to roll over Henry, ditching the condom to the trash bin. He hitched Henry’s knee over his shoulder as he replaced his penis with fingers. He pumped his other hand over Henry’s erection, relishing the over-stimulated shivers. Alex wanted more of Henry’s lustful noise, so he took him inside his mouth and did not stop until a spit thread of his own followed his mouth to lie on Henry’s stomach. Both of them heaved with their breath, but Alex’s lashes veiled his sight as Henry’s hand stroked kindly through his hair, and then Alex’s eyes shut entirely.
Alex woke in the middle of the night in an empty bed. He fumbled around the pillows and side tables, trying to find his phone—
He found it, but not before he knocked something small off the table and heard the ding of metal hitting something on the way down. Alex squinted through turning a lamp on and followed the direction of the chime…
Henry’s ring.
Alex looked at the time on his phone. Henry should be taking off right now unless he was already in the air and over the ocean. Alex looked at the dark bathroom and listened to the quiet apartment, verifying that Henry could not still be here. He swiped the pad of his thumb over the engraved H in the gold. It was bizarre and irregular for Henry to take the ring off at all, let alone leave it somewhere. Alex took a picture and sent it to Henry with the message, Where do I send this?
Alex did not wait for a reply. He dressed himself in pajamas and went into the kitchen for a late dinner of leftovers.
He did not get a response at all. When he woke early the next morning for work, Henry was technically still in the air. He had plane wifi to communicate, but he did not use it. Alex felt odd about leaving the ring out in the open. He put it in his room’s safe and went with June to work.
Being a Saturday in government work meant the office was half empty. This allowed Alex the bandwidth to notice when Percy stopped by. June stood to meet him, kissing his cheek as Alex approached. Percy hugged him while he asked, “What brings you here?”
“I likely won’t see you in New York again whilst you’re here. I’m hopping over the pond today.”
June recalled, “I thought you said you don’t work in London much anymore, or are you going someplace else?”
“I’m not going for myself. Henry’s got a press conference he must attend, so I’ll be there for moral support before he and I fly to better shores.”
“Right,” Alex nodded, as if he’d already been given a piece whatever the hell Percy was talking about. “What’s the conference for again?”
“It’s some bloody recap of the family’s charitable goings-on. Seeing as that is the bulk of my work and Henry works for me, it makes sense he would have to be a featured participant.”
June remembered, “His mother does a lot of conservation work, doesn’t she? Will she be there?”
Percy looked as if this caused him an epiphany. He answered in a bit of awe, “I don’t know. It would be interesting if she did. Anyways, I wish you both luck in your endeavors, and thank you for indulging me this week. I absolutely will impose again.”
The siblings smiled and bid him safe travels. On their way back to their desks, June asked, “Did Henry mention a conference?”
He dropped into his seat with a curt, “Nope.”
June sighed over her keyboard, not about to broach the subject of what Alex and Henry do instead of talking.
Sunday might have been a proper day off, if they had not been behind schedule. Alex, June, and Nora huddled around their apartment coffee table, their laptops, and paperwork while they finished Percy’s leftovers. With so many branches of their projects being closed for the day, all they could really do is catch up and get ahead with plans, which were then set into motion come Monday. Alex moved from one phone call to another, fingertips aching by lunchtime with how he had to talk and make notes and email responses at the same time.
He almost skipped lunch, but June threatened him within an inch of a castration if he did not attend to his basic needs such as food. They joined Nora in a small conference room made fragrant by bodega sandwiches. In typical, government building fashion, the television in the room screened a news channel. Oftentimes, the televisions would be split screens with the volume low, just to display how the same news stories were being told through different, biased lenses.
Alex got halfway through his sandwich before Nora handled the remote and made the news channel full screen. She flipped until she landed on a BBC channel. Henry’s press conference had already started with Philip opening the proceedings. Alex caught himself grimacing as he chewed. He flicked his eyes to June to see if she’d noticed, but she passively watched the screen and ate her food.
Various environmentalists and experts in their field made their speeches, sharing numbers and progress and plans for the following year of charity work. Alex supposed it made sense for the eldest, Philip, to open the conference, and for the youngest, Henry to close it. Plus, Henry had always been renowned as the favorite. The People’s Prince. The Prince of England’s Hearts. The way the room twittered with cameras flashing confirmed it; Henry had also been largely unseen by the public for the last two years. It was a big day for Henry’s fans.
Henry looked good. Makeup fresh and hair combed precisely into place. Alex’s tongue moved through his teeth, more concerned by the food bits already in his mouth than eating any more.
Henry’s speech followed the subject of the conference while providing vague details about what he’d been doing during his time away from England. It was as politically exact and vague as ever, congratulating the progress made thus far for the environment but tactically not mentioning his work with refugees. Heaven forbid the royal family actually takes responsibility in helping the world they fucked over with colonization…
Henry’s pause for breath went…a little long. His hand moved over his notes at the podium as if he were checking over a list before he looked up at the press around him—No…directly at the cameras.
“And with that, this is the last time I will speak to you all as your prince. My resignation from the royal family, its entitlement and duties, has been finalized. It was my own decision, and a long time coming. No pressure has been placed upon me to arrive at this decision. Quite the opposite, in fact. I am sorry I couldn’t be better for you, but I need to serve myself. It’s been an honour being your Royal Highness, Prince Henry George Edward James Hanover-Stuart, but now I would greatly appreciate your respect towards my privacy as Henry Fox. Thank you.”
There was a lot to take in. Henry’s declaration was one thing, and all the parts and pieces shared within it. But Alex stared dumbfounded at the screen, taking in the way Henry’s makeup could not hide the puffiness swelling beneath his eyes, every word weighing titanically over him. The way Henry’s eyes stopped really seeing what he was looking at. It was a difference Alex recognized from knowing him long enough—from knowing himself long enough. Being dead behind the eyes apart from slightly squinting or tilting the head as if a light source were too bright in the room.
“…lex?”
Philip caught Alex’s attention, sitting in the long row of men and women behind the podium. His eyes engorged and his mouth parted before he tried to cinch himself under his own mask. He leaned forward in his chair, looking off stage for some sort of instruction. Then his gaze snapped onto Henry as the latter moved to leave the stage. He stood to follow Henry but he did not look angry. He looked baffled and concerned and—
Henry stepped down the stairs of the stage, almost out of sight in the wings, but his legs gave out. Philip caught him the same time security swarmed around them, shielding them from the cameras before the television feed finally cut elsewhere.
“Alex!”
“WHAT? ” he barked, and just as swiftly recoiled at June and Nora’s worried and offended stares. Alex ducked his head, apologetic but unable to apologize, much less be of any more use today. He stormed out of the office, striding past Cash and Amy as he ordered, “Plane. I need a plane. We’re leaving today.”
They did not get far in their arguments about it because he ordered, “Today! ” and slammed his laptop closed in his cubicle. He made quick work cleaning out his desk before doing the same thing back in his bedroom. Dirty laundry, clean, all of it went into the suitcase. He opened the safe in his closet, organizing his smaller, most important pieces on his bed with his toiletries, like his several forms of identification…
He slotted Henry’s ring onto his pinkie, where it would be safest, and flew out of the apartment.