Chapter Text
They have a week off from the campaign, and Alex goes back to his apartment in DC and rides out the rest of his heat there. It takes four more days for his heat to end, and it’s probably the worst Alex has ever felt in his life. Nora sends him a care package of food and electrolytes and he basically locks his door and sits on his vibrator for the entire time.
When he finally starts feeling like himself again, he does a cursory google search about breakthrough heats. The few times he’s allowed himself to go through a regular one, they’ve lasted five days at the very maximum. This one was nearly ten. Alex doesn’t ever want to have to go through that again.
He spends a day in bed sleeping it off and uses the rest of his leave from the campaign sorting his life out. He cleans his apartment thoroughly, which is kind of gross after he neglected it to writhe around in his bed for four days. He goes for long runs as soon as he has enough energy. He calls his mom and has lunch with his dad and June and Nora. He refills his prescription for his suppressants and takes them diligently each day.
He doesn’t think about Henry.
…
The first debate is in two weeks and they’re up to their necks in prep. Raf’s opponent, Governor Jed Johnson, the Republican nominee, is some right-wing populist asshole with a string of abuse allegations and some questionable financial dealings. It’s easy to counter him on policy, but that’s not the problem. The problem is that he’s stirring up an increasingly radical base of supporters who all believe that an alpha is the only designation that can lead a country.
It’s discriminatory bullshit, and Alex is fucking sick of it. They went through all this when his mom was elected. A woman alpha as President of the United States? Unheard of.
Raf has never publicly declared his designation. It’s been a big thing. That he’s not only openly gay, but he also refuses to talk about whether he’s an alpha, omega, or worse, a beta, despite the fact that designation is a protected characteristic. People have said he’s hiding something. That it shows he’s not honest. Alex doesn’t know how Raf manages to laugh it off.
Anyway, it pisses Alex the fuck off that instead of working on soundbites that clearly explain the issues and policies they’re running on, he’s having to think of ways Raf can avoid getting pulled into a debate about his designation. It’s probably a good thing he’s so angry. It makes him work harder.
“You okay?” Raf asks him one evening when they’re holed up in a suite at a hotel in Boise.
Alex looks up from his iPad. They’ve been refining some of Raf’s counterarguments against Johnson’s candidate’s economic plan. Usually there are a bunch of other advisors with them, but it’s late and Raf had told them to call it a night. Alex had stayed.
“Yeah. Of course,” Alex replies. He is. He’s fine. He’s focused.
Raf spins his pen between his fingers. “Sure?”
“Yes.”
“You know you can talk to me about anything,” Raf continues. “I know I’m your boss now, but we’re old friends first.”
“I’m trying to talk to you about tax reform.”
“And I’m trying to do the decent thing and check in with my buddy’s kid, who is also in my employ.”
Alex rolls his eyes. “I’m fine. Seriously. Kinda pissed off that you’re dragging this out and making me stay awake longer than necessary.”
Raf laughs. “Right. Like your insomniac ass didn’t hang back on purpose.” Raf drums his fingers on his knee. “All recovered from a couple of weeks ago?”
Alex tries not to react. “Yup.”
“You know you’re always approved to take heat leave. It’s never an issue.”
Of course Raf figured it out. Raf knows he’s an omega. Alex had confided in him about around the time he also realised he was bisexual. After all, it’s another thing they have in common: brown, queer, omega. It’s why Alex wanted to work for him. Why Alex wants so desperately for Raf to win. Because if Raf can do it, then maybe Alex can.
“It was fine. I handled it.”
“You shouldn’t have to work through a heat.”
Alex sits back in his chair. “Why not? You do.”
Raf gives him a look. He hasn’t called Alex ‘kid’ in years, but it sure looks like he wants to. “I’m married. Mated. It’s a different situation.”
“Not really.” Alex really doesn’t want to talk about his sex life with the person who is ultimately his boss, regardless of how long they’ve known each other. He really doesn’t want to talk about how he allowed a member of the press covering Raf’s campaign to rail him for five days straight until he was coherent enough to actually do his job. “Look. I got my work done. We’re up in the polls. Everything’s fine. Can we drop it?”
Alex goes back to his iPad, but he can feel Raf’s eyes on him still.
“If that’s all you’ve learned from me I feel like I’ve been a bad example,” he says finally. He sighs. “Alright. Earned income tax credits. Let’s go.”
…
Alex gets a phone call in the middle of the night a week before the debate. It’s Nora.
“Please do not tell me you lost your keycard and got locked out of your room again.”
“Alex. You need to come to Raf’s suite. Now.”
When he gets there, the lights are all on. Raf’s in pyjama pants and a quarter zip sweater. Nora and a couple of Raf’s closest aides and strategists are there, grim expressions on their faces.
Alex’s immediate thought is that someone has died.
“My mom…” he begins, but Raf gets out of his chair at once and comes over to him.
“Your mom is fine. Everyone is. Promise, Alex.”
Alex has no idea what is going on.
Nora’s the one who speaks up. “We had a tip off,” she says. Her hair is wild. She’s always been a restless sleeper. “One of the major newspapers is on the verge of publishing a story outing a top Democrat as an omega.”
Alex’s stomach drops. His eyes fly to Raf. “What?”
Raf’s mouth is set in a hard line. “We’re verifying it.”
“Why didn’t this come to me?” Alex blurts, as if that even matters right now. But he’s supposed to be leading communications for Raf’s campaign. This is something he’s supposed to know about. Fuck. Did he miss something?
“It came to me first,” Nora says. “I thought it needed to go straight to Senator Luna, given that…” She trails off.
Right. Given that someone is trying to out Raf. Fuck. Fuck. This could change the whole trajectory of their campaign. People will say Raf is unfit to be in office. That a president who loses their mind once every few months isn’t fit to make decisions for the good of the country. That someone on that amount of prescription hormones can’t possibly be in their right mind to lead.
Alex has spent so much time and effort trying to divert the conversation away from Raf’s undeclared designation. They’ve worked so hard to ensure that the narrative isn’t about that, that it’s about the things that actually matter: gun control and affordable healthcare and housing. Everything he’s worked for, everything he cares about is going to be destroyed by a single article.
“Alex,” Raf says. He puts a hand on Alex’s shoulder like he’s the one comforting him. Shouldn’t it be the other way around? “The story. It’s not about me.”
Alex doesn’t get it. “What?”
He can see Nora looking at Raf, biting her lip.
“It’s about you,” Raf says, voice even. “They’re trying to publish an article that says you’re an omega.”
The room is silent. Alex can feel everyone’s eyes on him. He should probably be reacting. He doesn’t know how. His body has gone numb. A bunch of people are talking at once.
“The person who tipped me off is trying to kill it,” he hears Nora say.
“How do you know we can trust them?” one of the aides is asking.
“We can. Trust me.”
“It’s going to be fine. There’s protocol. We’ve got contacts in every news outlet in the country.”
“What about international? If the BBC gets a whiff of this—”
“They won’t do anything until it’s verified. If we can kill it before a rumour hits social media—”
Raf’s hand on his arm is tight. “It’s under control, Alex. Okay? Why don’t you go home for a few days. Get some rest.”
Alex shakes his head. No. That’s the last thing he wants to do. “No, I’m good,” he gets out, but his voice feels tight.
“Alex.”
“I’m okay,” he insists. “We’ve only got a few days before the debate. We can’t lose momentum now.”
Raf gives him a sceptical look, but if there’s one benefit of them having known each other for years, it’s that Alex knows he’s not going to challenge him on it.
Nora grabs him by the hand and yanks him to the side of the room. “It’s Henry,” she hisses quietly.
Alex’s stomach flips over. “What?”
Oh, fuck. Oh God. The story. Henry’s a journalist covering the campaign and he knows Alex is an omega. And they ended things. But… No. Henry wouldn’t do that. Not as retaliation. It’s not who he is. There’s just no way.
Nora is still clutching his hand. “Henry gave me the tip. He heard something about you and followed it up and discovered some asshole at Brietbart is writing an article.”
Henry. Henry is the one who tipped Nora off.
“Why would he come to you and not me?” Alex shakes his head. Nora doesn’t know about them. “Wait, you said someone is trying to kill it.”
“Yes.” Nora looks incredulous. “Henry’s trying to use his connections to make sure—”
“What connections?”
Nora looks at him like he’s crazy. “Seriously? You don’t know?”
“Know what?”
Nora almost stomps her foot. “Henry’s last name isn’t really Fox. That’s his pen name. His real last name is Fox-Mountchristen.”
Alex blinks. “Wait, Mountchristen as in…”
“Yep, the British publishing empire with a dynasty to rival the Roys. Apparently they were the inspiration for the show, by the way.” She glances at Alex’s face. “Not that that’s important right now.”
“But Henry works for the Post.”
“Yeah, so? You work for Raf and not your dad. Besides, who the fuck would want to work for Mary Mountchristen?”
Fuck. When Alex had told Henry all that stuff about legacy, about wanting to stand on his own, to not just be known as President Claremont’s son… He didn’t realise how much Henry got it. Gets it.
“What are you gonna do?” Nora asks nervously.
Alex has never been one to wait around for someone to do his work for him. Henry might have a chance at killing the story, but it’s not his responsibility. Hell, they’ve barely spoken outside of press conferences in weeks. He doesn’t owe Alex anything.
Alex is going to do what he’s always done. Pull his fucking shoulders back and take care of himself.
…
Alex spends the next week veering wildly between feeling sick every time his phone lights up with a notification and throwing himself headfirst into his work. Alex hasn’t heard from Henry. He’s not even seen him in a few days. He’s not been at the daily campaign press briefings, and the Post has sent a different beat reporter to cover things. Nora hasn’t heard from him either.
He doesn’t know whether Henry has been successful in killing the story, and it has yet to appear, but that doesn’t mean it won’t. Not knowing what is going on is Alex’s worst fucking nightmare, so instead he focuses on Raf and the debate. He’s with Raf every minute of the day. They prep over meals, in the car on the way to appearances, at night when everyone else has gone to bed. Raf’s husband, Oliver, jokes that they should pull out the sofa bed in their hotel suite so that Alex can quiz Raf as he goes to sleep. Alex drills him on their policies, key talking points, has him repeat soundbites until his tone is absolutely fucking perfect.
He can do this. No one knows this campaign like Alex does and that means no one can prep Raf like Alex can.
The morning of the debate, he wakes up in a hotel room in Pennsylvania and checks his Google alerts. Nothing. Just a snap of him out to dinner with his dad in DC from two weeks ago that’s only just hit the tabloids.
He drops his phone onto the sheets and stares up at the ceiling. Only a few more hours, and then two more debates, and then in just over a month he’ll find out if they’ve succeeded. If he’s done a good enough job.
He’s exhausted.
…
“...How are the American people supposed to trust a president with decisions about our national security when he refuses to tell us something as basic as his designation? Honesty and integrity should be the very foundations of White House, and if Senator Luna insists on keeping secrets about his own identity from the American people, what else is he going to keep from us? ”
Alex’s fists clench at his sides. It’s been nearly an hour of this. Ridiculous claims and attacks on Raf because of his refusal to share his designation. It’s infuriating. Even the moderators seem to be tiring of Johnson steering every question back to designations. It is, thankfully, basically the only thing the other side have got. Their strategy is clearly to try and appeal to conservatives, the ones that believe in traditional designation roles. The ones that spread lies about omegas being wildly unpredictable because of their heats.
Raf is holding his own. He’s brushing off Johnson’s attacks with ease, not bothering to rise to some of the ridiculous claims he’s been making. He brings it neatly back to his policy every time, highlights the positive future he sees for the American people, the importance of unity and working together towards a common goal.
Raf tilts his head. That’s the cue. This is it. This is what they’ve been preparing for.
“Governor Johnson has focused a lot on my designation this evening. He says that by not declaring my designation, it evidences my inability to be a good leader. That I’m not being transparent. It’s not that I’m trying to keep something from you, the American people. It’s that I believe every person has the right to privacy.
“Governor Johnson wants to know what designation you are so that he can control you and force you into a box. He believes that you can only be one thing—your designation, and nothing else. I believe differently. I believe that designations are not things that hold us back. They’re what makes us unique, but also what unites us as human beings. We cannot, and will not, move back to a time where designations dictate who we are or the things that we can do.”
Alex holds his breath.
“Under my government,” Raf continues, “I will introduce stronger designation protections. I will make sure heat leave is protected under federal law. I’ll introduce universal paid heat leave for omegas and their partners, regardless of their partner’s designation. And finally, I’ll make it a punishable offence to out someone’s designation without their consent. No one should have to live in fear that their biology will hinder their success or prosperity in this country.”
There it is. The policy they’ve been working non-stop over the last week to refine and get right. Alex is already itching to check the feedback from viewers after the debate.
“Hey,” whispers a voice at his elbow. It’s Nora. They’re behind the cameras, watching as Raf moves on to deftly handling a question about immigration. “The story’s dead.”
Alex blinks down at her. He’s been so focused on preparing for the debate that he almost forgot that he was in danger of being ruthlessly outed in the press. Almost.
“Henry did it?”
Nora nods. She squeezes his hand, then slips off.
Alex stares blankly at the playback screen which is currently showing a split between Raf and Johnson’s faces. He doesn’t register what they’re saying. The story is dead. Henry killed it.
Alex is safe.
He slips his phone out of his pocket and navigates to the thread with Henry’s number. Alex hasn’t even saved it. He types out two words.
Thank you.
…
The week after the debate is a whirlwind. The following day is spent holed up in a hotel room watching back the footage and identifying key moments that can be used in ads. It’s too early to tell whether the polls have shifted in their favour, but that doesn’t stop the campaign from ramping things up.
They’ve got rallies in North Carolina and Pennsylvania, and they’ve decided to schedule more media engagements to capitalise on Raf’s strong debate performance. Social media in particular has reacted well to Raf’s announcement about designation protections. The engagement on Twitter is fucking great. Paid heat leave is something campaigners have been pushing for for decades. People want it. People need it.
Alex is on the phone non-stop with media outlets, giving his own sound bites on Raf’s strong debate performance, stating the campaign is happy with how things went and views it as a decisive victory. He gives two briefings to the press corps, answering questions and providing clarification on certain points that were raised during the debate. He waits to hear the usual, “Henry Fox, Washington Post,” in amidst the chatter, but it never comes. Henry isn’t even there.
“Do you think we could squeeze the Wired autocomplete interview in while Raf’s in LA for the NABJ thing?”
Nora squints at him from across the desk. “How the fuck would I know? Why are you scheduling? Isn’t that Khalil’s job?”
Alex doesn’t even bother to look up from his laptop. “Khalil’s off sick and the comms inbox is overflowing.”
“So get Luli to do it.”
“Luli’s sister is having a baby.”
“Right now?”
Alex shrugs. Keeps typing. “Some point in the next couple days, I think.”
Nora makes a scoffing noise. “You do realise you have an entire comms team, right? Who are trained and paid and can be delegated tasks at any point. Particularly boring shit like answering press requests and scheduling interviews.”
“I don’t mind.”
It’s gone midnight and Alex and Nora are the only ones left in the office. They’re rarely at the campaign headquarters these days given they’re on the road so much, but they’ve managed to squeeze in a few days back in DC. Alex had pretty much forgotten what his apartment looks like.
It’s been an intense few days. Alex feels like he’s chasing his tail. He’s been roped in as a surrogate for some events, even dispatched to Savannah for a day to speak at a student rally before racing back to DC for the LULAC National Convention. LULAC has never endorsed a political candidate before. Alex is breathless to think that Raf is the person to stir up this historic moment, and that he helped make it happen.
Nora takes a noisy slurp from her water bottle. “Gonna tell me why the fuck you’re doing menial tasks that absolutely could be assigned to an intern and are definitely below you when you have better things to be doing?”
Because elections can be lost in the fine detail. Because Alex is the best at this, and he doesn’t know if he trusts anyone else not to fuck it up. Because he was the last to know about the story about him and he’s not going to let that happen again.
“No.”
Nora pulls that face where she looks like she has something to say that he’s not going to like, but she’s gonna say it anyway. “Is this about Henry?” she says bluntly.
Alex makes sure his face doesn’t react, even though his stomach lurches at the mention of Henry’s name.
He’s still not heard from Henry, but then he doesn’t know why he would. There was nothing between them, and Alex’s unanswered text proves it. It also proves Henry didn’t help kill the story because he feels something for Alex. He’s just a good person who—in his own words—doesn’t believe in outing someone just to sell some papers.
“It’s all good, Nora,” he says, trying to sound relaxed and casual, and not like he might be on the verge of a panic attack. “Seriously. Things are fine. I just like to know exactly where we are on things, and it’s easier to do that when I can hear myself think in here.”
Nora looks unconvinced, but she picks up her bag to leave anyway. “At least promise me you’ll leave soon?”
He says he will, and she kisses him on the forehead before she leaves. Alex sighs, scrubs a hand across his face. He gets through five more emails before finally calling it a night. He’s exhausted by the time he crawls into his own bed, but his brain won’t switch off. All he can think about is that they have 42 days until the election, and he can’t allow himself to reach election day with the feeling that there was more he could have done.
He gives up on sleep at around 4am, makes himself a coffee in the kitchen and sits at laptop working until the sun starts to come up.
…
“Alex. Alex. Can you hear me?”
Everything is fuzzy and far away. His ears are ringing. “What?” His own voice reverberates in his head.
He blinks. Nora’s face is above him, her halo of curls aglow. It’s bright. Alex squints. His head hurts.
“There you are,” she says. Her voice sounds worried. There’s a crease between her brows. “No, don’t move yet.” She presses a palm on his chest.
Alex drops his head back. He wasn’t even aware he was trying to get up. He’s lying down—on the floor? He blinks, his vision flooding back in and… Oh. He’s on the floor of some conference room. He tries to think. A rally? Someone was supposed to be giving a speech. Was it him? Raf?
“It’s okay, Alex. Paramedics are on their way.”
Wait. What?
“No,” Alex groans. His voice sounds hoarse to his own ears. “No, I’m okay.” He tries to shift into a sitting position, batting off Nora’s hand. Not a good idea. His head pounds. The room is spinning. His whole body feels weak. Is he sweating or is he cold? He can’t tell.
He tries opening his eyes again—when did he close them? Nora is crouched in front of him. There’s someone else behind her. Luli. Right. They were talking about something. An interview? God, he can’t remember. He feels like ass.
“Do not tell me you at another gas station burrito,” Nora says, and oh, oh no, Alex’s stomach lurches—
He vomits onto the floor, narrowly avoiding Nora’s pants, diverting to one side at the last minute. He thinks there are tears coming out of his eyes, and everything is starting to get fuzzy again. Nora’s saying something but he doesn’t know whether it’s to him or to someone else and he tries to tell her he’s okay, but he can’t tell if anyone else can hear him. There’s a small part of him that’s aware he’s starting to panic, but it doesn’t matter, because all he can think is that he’s so tired and that it’s difficult to keep his eyes open, before everything goes wonderfully black.
…
When he comes round, the pounding in his head has been reduced to an occasional, electronic beeping sound. Except—wait, it’s not in his head. Something is actually making that noise.
He blinks his eyes open, and… Oh. He’s in a hospital room. A pretty nice one, from the looks of things, but yeah, he’s definitely laid in a hospital bed. He shifts, feeling a tug on his hand. Looks down to see an IV poking out of the back of his hand.
He drops his head back on the pillow. Tries to take stock of his own body. Limbs all intact, head still kind of hurting but no longer feeling as though somebody has taken a baseball bat to it repeatedly. He feels kind of like someone has hollowed out his insides and rung the remaining flesh out like a dish towel, but he feels… weirdly calm about it.
“Ah,” a soft voice says. “You’re awake.”
He turns to see a woman with a blonde bob poking her head around the door.
“Sorry,” he says, voice coming out in a rasp. He has no idea what he’s apologising for.
“I’m Holly, one of the nurses. You’re just in time for me to check your vitals. How are you feeling?” the woman asks. She drags a little cart through the door and starts fiddling with a blood pressure cuff. She kind of reminds Alex of his mom. That feels nice.
“Like I got hit by a bus,” Alex manages. His throat hurts and his mouth tastes horrible. It’s then that he remembers throwing up. Jesus. “What happened?”
The nurse slips the cuff around his arm and presses some buttons on the cart, waiting for it to inflate. “You gave some of your colleagues quite a scare. Worked yourself a little too hard and made yourself unwell. We’ve got you on some fluids which seems to be helping.” The machine beeps and the tightness around his arm releases. She pops a plastic cap on a digital thermometer and places it into his ear. “Your temperature is finally starting to come down, which is good. The doctor is going to have a talk with you about your medication, though. It’s not safe to be continuously taking your suppressants without a break for a heat.”
Alex feels his cheeks warm up. “What does that have to do with me getting sick?”
“Not giving your body a break to go through a normal heat puts your body into stress,” Holly explains. “That together with not taking care of yourself, not getting enough sleep or eating well can have quite dramatic consequences. From the looks of things you’ve skipped several heats, is that correct?”
“I had a breakthrough heat,” Alex says. “A couple of weeks ago.”
“And I understand you continued to take your suppressants throughout it.”
Alex is kind of wishing he hadn’t woken up. He’s super not enjoying being chastised by a nurse with the same haircut and critical gaze as Ellen Claremont.
Holly clucks her tongue at him knowingly, but her expression softens. “You need to start taking better care of yourself. Thank goodness your mate was here to help.”
“My… what?”
“Your mate,” Holly repeats, moving on to check his IV and the bag of fluids hanging by the side of the bed. “You really should add your mate as your emergency contact. Luckily one of your colleagues was able to call him.”
Alex blinks. “I’m not mated.”
Holly looks confused. “Oh, I just thought because of your scent—”
“Oh, my god, you asshole.”
Alex looks over to the door to find Nora stood in the doorway. She’s got a tote bag over one shoulder and a coffee cup in her hand, and she dumps both on the low table by the window before coming over to give him a hug.
“Next time you don’t want to give a speech maybe just say something, as opposed to doing your best exorcist impression in the green room?” Nora says as Holly the nurse slips out of the room and leaves them alone.
“Sorry,” Alex croaks.
Nora hums, full of bravado, but there’s still concern between her brows. She cares about him. “I’m sending you my dry cleaning bill by the way.”
“Oh God,” Alex groans. “I thought I missed you.”
Nora perches on the edge of his bed. “That was the first time. When I was trying to hold you up to make sure you didn’t choke on your own puke my pants took the brunt of it.” She looks forlorn. “I had to borrow a pair from Jackie. Do you know how humiliating that was?”
“How long was I out?” Alex asks.
“A couple days.”
“Shit. Is Raf—”
“Everything is fine,” Nora tells him immediately, placing a hand on his knee. “Luli has things covered.”
“Okay, but the next debate is in two weeks. The prep schedule—”
“Alex,” Nora says firmly. “You literally just made yourself ill because you were working too hard. It’s all covered, okay? What the fuck are you gonna do anyway, drag your IV along to the next rally and give a speech from your wheelchair? You need to fucking rest.”
Alex slumps back on the pillows and lets out a frustrated sigh. Nora, of all people, should know that she’s basically given him an impossible task. “Wait. Why does the nurse think we’re mated?”
Nora snorts. “Not me, dumbass. Henry.”
Alex stares at her. “The nurse thinks I’m mated to Henry? Why would she think that?”
Nora frowns. “Because you guys have been fucking each other incessantly over the last few weeks?”
Oh, shit.
Alex’s mouth drops open. “You know?”
“Well, yeah,” Nora says matter-of-factly. “You guys fucking reek of each other.”
Alex gapes like a hooked fish. Oh my God. Nora has smelled Henry on him. Has smelled him on Henry.
“But… does that mean—”
Nora nods her head. “Oh yeah. Everyone knows.”
“What?”
Nora looks unconcerned. “They all just assumed you guys were… you know. Mated.”
Oh, God. This cannot be happening.
“I called him when they couldn’t get your temperature down,” Nora continues. “He’s been sitting in your room so you could smell him, and that seemed to work. I sent him home a couple hours ago to shower, but he was pretty reluctant to leave.”
“Henry’s been here?” Alex’s voice comes out smaller than he intended it to.
“Pretty much the whole time.” Nora’s phone chimes in her pocket and she pulls it out. “June’s happy you’re awake. She was gonna get a flight back from New York if you didn’t wake up, so I’m kinda mad at you for no longer being gravely ill. We’ve not seen each other in three weeks.”
“I wasn’t gravely ill,” Alex retorts, though it’s difficult to muster the energy to put any real bite behind them.
Nora gives him a look. “Alex. You basically collapsed. You can’t keep neglecting your own health like this.”
“It was only a couple of skipped heats—”
“And heats are your health, asshole,” Nora says fiercely. “You can’t just keep ignoring your biology because you find it inconvenient.”
Alex does not want to hear this. “You don’t get it. You’re an alpha. You don’t get what it’s like to put your entire life on hold to lose your mind every few months.”
“If only there was a hot, sensitive alpha with a portable job who had no issue dropping everything to look after you,” Nora says casually, inspecting her cuticles. “Might make things easier, no?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Nora rolls her eyes. “Oh my God. Whatever. Keep making your life more difficult because you don’t want to admit what is obvious to everyone else.”
“It’s not obvious—”
“You smell like each other,” Nora says bluntly. “You’ve complained non-stop that you could smell him even though no one else in the room could and I’m pretty sure that Henry is the type of person to be vigilant about taking his blockers. Do you honestly think that just happens by chance? You’re compatible, Alex.”
Alex feels a little light he might throw up again. There’s a pounding in his head, but this time it’s not pain—it’s his heart.
Because—oh, fuck—Nora’s right. He and Henry are compatible. Like, biologically. Alex hasn’t been with many alphas before, but if he really allows himself to consider it, he knows that the sex has never been like that. Like Henry knows when he needs before Alex can even open his mouth to verbalise it. Like he’d die if it ever stopped. Like it would be just as good outside of a heat.
And the thing is, maybe it’s not just their biology. Because, yeah, Alex fucking adored the sex and everything that came with it, but he also found himself looking forward to the breaks in between, when Alex’s body was soft and satiated and his mind was clear enough for them to talk. Long conversations about the campaign, about whatever Henry was working on, about why they’d both ended up where they had. Henry’s voice and gentle accent and the warmth Alex would feel when Henry laughed that had nothing to do with his heat.
The way he’s thrown himself into work since they broke things off. The way he’s looked for Henry’s face in the press pool at every briefing and event over the last few weeks. The way his stomach felt hollow and empty when he’d realised Henry wasn’t there.
Alex has missed him.
Fuck.
He lies with that revelation for a little while, relieved that Nora seems content to sit on the edge of his bed and inhale one of the two burritos she’d snuck into her tote bag. He’s still exhausted and must doze off at some point, because the next time he wakes it’s to long fingers carding through his hair.
He makes an involuntary noise and tilts his head, trying to encourage the fingers to slip deeping into his hair. He takes a deep breath. Lets his lungs fill with the scent of clean linen and cut grass.
He opens his eyes to see Henry smiling softly down at him.
“Hi,” Alex rasps.
“Hello,” Henry says. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now.” Alex wasn’t intending to be so honest. But he does, so.
Henry smiles. It’s a little uncertain, but his hand doesn’t move from Alex’s hair. “Is it alright that I’m here?”
Alex nods. “We should probably talk. But maybe not when I’m lying in a hospital bed?”
Henry hesitates. “Do you want me to go?”
“No,” Alex says immediately. He feels shy, which is ridiculous. He’s literally begged Henry to fill him with come.
But this is, like… important. Alex has feelings involved. It matters.
“No, I don’t want you to go, but I also don’t want you to fuck up your back from sleeping in that chair.”
That earns him a smile. “I can handle a night or two.”
If these were normal circumstances, Alex would make some sort of lewd joke about that. But it isn’t, so he doesn’t. He just closes his eyes again and lets the feeling of Henry’s hand in his hair and his clean, calm scent lull him back to sleep.
…
He gets discharged the next day, after a lecture from a doctor about appropriately managing his suppressants and the dangers of skipping heats too frequently. Like Alex needs another lecture—he literally just spent three days in the hospital. He’s learned his lesson.
Henry takes him home. They don’t really discuss it. Henry is in the room when the doctor comes to discuss Alex’s discharge and Alex doesn’t ask him to leave. The doctor says some stuff about Alex resting and seems to assume that Henry will be the one responsible for his care. Alex doesn’t bother correcting him.
Alex closes his eyes in the car on the way to his apartment, waking up when Henry puts a gentle hand on his arm and says, “We’re here, love,” in a soft voice. He’s too exhausted to feel self-conscious about having Henry in his apartment or to worry about whether he remembered to tidy up the last time he was here. Henry helps him into bed, says something about ordering some food, but Alex doesn’t hear him. He’s already asleep.
When he wakes up it’s dark outside. His phone, which is plugged in and charging on his nightstand, tells him it’s nearly 11pm. He’s slept all day again, but he feels a little better. Less like he’s a piece of steak that’s been tenderised.
He finds Henry on the couch in his living room, laptop open on his knees, tapping away in the dim glow of the tall lamp in the corner of the room. Alex leans against the doorframe and watches him for a moment. It’s kind of surreal to see him here, in Alex’s space. Alex’s heart gives a little lurch at how not-out-of-place he looks. How easily he seems to fit in.
“Hey,” Alex says, and Henry immediately looks up from his laptop, face transforming into a soft smile.
“You’re up,” Henry says. “How are you feeling?”
“Better.” Alex hesitates in the doorway. “You’re still here.”
Henry nods. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah,” Alex breathes. “Thank you for staying with me.”
“Of course.”
Alex shuffles towards him, perching carefully on the couch next to him. Not close enough to touch, but close enough to feel the benefits of being within breathing distance of Henry’s scent. “You didn’t have to stay. I don’t want to keep you from anything.”
There’s a flicker in Henry’s brow. “You’re not.”
“I know you have work, so don’t feel like you have to hang around, or whatever.”
Henry just looks at him. Alex wants to squirm.
“Do you want me to go?”
No. Stay forever, Alex thinks.
“I just don’t want you to feel obligated to be here just because, you know, your scent helped.” He bites his lip. “And I’m sorry that people thought we are… you know. Mated. I never said anything to Nora, but I guess she smelled you on me or something, so she assumed, which was kind of rude of her to be honest and something I’ll talk to her about, because, like, what the fuck? I mean, none of this is your problem at all and I’ll totally manage fine on my own.”
Henry is quiet for a long moment. “Is that what you think?”
Yes. No.
“I asked you to help me out a couple of times,” Alex says. “It doesn’t have to mean anything.”
No matter how much he might want it to. He’s not going to force someone into something with him just because their biology happens to match up.
Henry closes his laptop and puts it to one side, which feels kind of intimidating. To have Henry’s full attention. “I feel like I need to make something very clear to you, Alex.”
Well, Alex really doesn’t like the sound of that. He hugs his knees to his chest. “Okay.”
Henry watches him carefully, waiting until Alex meets his eyes. “You’re not an obligation to me. You never have been. And I’m uncomfortable with the notion that you seem to believe I don’t want anything and everything you’re willing to offer me, regardless of whether you’re in heat or not.”
That snaps Alex’s mouth shut. “Wait. What?”
“Christ, Alex,” Henry breathes, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t come to the hospital because I felt obligated to. I came because I care about you. Deeply.”
It’s insane the way that Alex’s heart starts beating faster. “You do?”
Henry’s face softens. “Yes. Of course. I always have.”
“Since I asked you to help me out with my heat?”
“Since before.”
Alex blinks. “Before?”
Henry smiles like Alex is being endearing. “Since I started covering Senator Luna’s campaign.”
“But…” Alex’s brain can’t keep up. “But that was last year.”
Henry nods. “Is that so hard to believe?”
Yes, actually. Yes, because Henry was also so… cool with Alex. Professional. Detached.
“But you never talked to me,” Alex says. “I got to know some of the other reporters, but you always kept your distance. I thought you didn’t even like me.”
Henry has the decency to look bothered by this. “We work together, Alex. There was no appropriate way for me to tell you that your scent drove me insane every time I was in a room with you, and even if there was I would never have done it. What kind of person would I be if I put my desire for you as an omega above my respect for your position on this campaign?”
Jesus. Alex doesn’t know what to say. Henry has somehow managed to verbalise all of Alex’s fears about getting involved with someone, with an alpha. It feels too good to be true.
“But I was on suppressants,” Alex says. “No one could ever smell me, I always had Nora check, I practically have stocks in scent blocker. How could you still catch my scent?”
“For the same reason you can smell me even though I’m on the highest dose of blockers,” Henry says matter-of-factly. “Because we’re compatible, Alex. Because we’re made for each other.”
Oh. Alex’s shoulders drop.
“So… you like the way I smell. And we’re compatible. That doesn’t automatically equate to you having feelings for me.”
Henry stares at him. “Are you… serious?”
Okay, well Alex doesn’t like that tone. His point is valid. Just because Henry’s attracted to the way Alex smells, just because their designations might be insanely compatible—more compatible than Alex has ever experienced with another alpha—it doesn’t mean that Henry feels anything for him.
Alex tries shrugging. “It’s just biology.”
“Just because something is biological doesn’t mean you don’t have a choice.”
“But—”
“For Christ’s sake, Alex,” Henry grits out in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m in love with you. And yes, we are so compatible it feels like we’re made for each other, but that doesn’t negate the fact that I am choosing to be in love with you. No matter how hard you seem to be insisting on denying it.”
Alex’s heart is hammering so hard it might break through his chest. “Oh. Well. You could have just said that from the start.”
Henry rolls his eyes and grabs Alex’s knees to haul him into his lap. “Something tells me you would have managed to talk your way out of it no matter what.”
“Well,” Alex says, winding his arms around Henry’s neck. “Comms strategy is kind of my job.” He presses his forehead to Henry’s and lets his eyes slip closed. “I think I’m in love with you too, by the way,” he murmurs.
Henry’s arms tighten around him, and Alex presses his face into Henry’s neck, inhaling his clean scent.
“Sorry,” he mumbles into Henry’s neck eventually. “I’m not super great at letting people take care of me.”
Henry pulls back and arches a brow. “Oh really?” he says dryly.
Alex presses his fingers to Henry’s pulse point. Feels the steady rhythm of his blood being pumped around his body. It feels grounding.
“I just thought you didn’t want this anymore.”
It’s kind of amazing how he can sense Henry’s confusion from the way his scent shifts slightly. Fuck. They really are compatible.
“Why would you think that?” Henry asks.
Alex shrugs. “You said you didn’t want to fuck me anymore.”
“Excuse me?”
Alex lets out a mildly annoyed huff. He’s not making shit up. This is a conversation that actually happened. He knows, he was there. “You said this was bad for me.”
Henry stares up at him, then blinks and presses his forehead to Alex’s collarbone with a groan. “Good God, Alex. I meant bad for your health, not bad for us. I was referring to your refusal to take heat leave, which I know you are entitled to, by the way, given that Luna’s platform is running on that proposal, and the way in which you insisted on putting yourself at risk by asking me to have sex with you at frequent intervals throughout your day. Not to mention the last time—”
Henry breaks off with a deep breath.
Right. The last time, when Henry’s come flooding Alex’s ass was the only thing that calmed him down.
Oh, Alex thinks.
“Oh,” Alex says. “So… you love me.”
“Yes.”
“And you want to have sex with me.”
Henry makes a strangled noise. “Yes.”
Alex has one more question. “In and out of heat?”
One of Henry’s hands moves up to press at the base of his neck. “Desperately.”
Well. Alex has to kiss him for that.
…
Henry stays.
Alex gets tired, because his body is still recovering from severe work-related and heat-related exhaustion, so he crawls back into bed and only surfaces when Henry brings him food and cups of tea. He refuses to make Alex coffee, which is kind of bullshit, but whatever. Henry has to hold him up in the shower which makes him feel fucking useless and weak, but it is kind of nice to just lean back against Henry’s solid weight while his talented fingers gently rub shampoo through his curls.
Maybe he could get used to this. Being taken care of.
“Can I ask you something?”
Alex isn’t even aware of the time or day, but he had a text from Raf earlier checking in, and Nora sent him a pic of Luli’s notes for debate prep, which are extensive and colour-coded. It’s dumb how much that makes him feel seen—that Nora has adamantly refused to share any work-related intel with him, but knows that he won’t be able to relax until he knows things are being handled.
They’re in bed, and Alex has been napping while Henry reads a book he picked up from Alex’s shelf, his hand resting on Alex’s hip. It’s one of the first times they’ve been in bed together that Alex hasn’t had a raging hard on. It’s novel, but pretty fucking nice.
“Hm?”
“How did you kill the story about me?”
Henry puts the book down and presses his cheek into the pillow. His hair falls over his eyes. Alex wants to put his fingers in it, so he does.
“A friend tipped me off about the story,” Henry says carefully. “Someone had managed to procure a copy of your prescription for Suppretall and was trying to get it verified before they published it.”
Alex inhales. Jesus. He hadn’t known what evidence had been dug up. He’s been meticulous about his privacy when it comes to his designation, so he knew it would have to be something someone did a lot of digging for but, fuck. Medical records? That’s got to be some kind of crime.
“Thankfully I didn’t burn all of my bridges when I moved to DC,” Henry continues. “And my dear old gran might be a narcissistic homophobe, but her name still carries a lot of weight in the publishing industry.”
Right. Because Henry’s grandmother is Mary Mountchristen, arguably the most influential person in British media, notorious for owning one of the papers responsible for the phone-hacking scandal in the early noughties.
Alex brushes his fingers across Henry’s cheekbone. There’s something else, and he feels like he needs the grounding of his skin against Henry’s in order to say it.
“You said you’d never out anyone,” Alex begins, focusing on the place where his fingertips meet Henry’s cheek. “You’re a good person. And I know you’d do the same thing if it was anyone else.”
Henry nods against the pillow.
“But you also did it because you love me.” Alex meets his eyes. “You care about me. Right?”
Henry tilts his head so he can kiss Alex’s fingertips. Warmth floods through him.
“I was so angry,” Henry says quietly, like if he says it any louder the rage will spill out of him. “I was furious. That someone would even think to do that to you—” He takes a deep breath. “I know that you have complicated feelings about your designation in the same way that I do. But God, Alex. I’ve never felt an urge to protect like that. It was all I could do to stop myself from coming to find you and hide you away so that no one could hurt you.”
Jesus. Alex is still far too exhausted to get a hard on right now, but like, he can’t help but admit this is kind of getting him going, even if it is kind of a cliché.
“But I didn’t do it because of some alpha instinct,” Henry insists. The hand on Alex’s hip pulls him closer, and he goes willingly. “I did it because I love you. And if you were outed and I could have stopped it but didn’t, I would have never forgiven myself.”
Alex presses his lips against Henry’s. It’s insane that they told each other they loved one another before they even kissed for the first time, but Alex figures it’s kind of fitting. They’re not exactly conventional in the way they’ve gone about their relationship.
“So when we went back to DC after I broke things off,” Alex says, “what did you do?”
Henry shrugs. “Mostly sat around my flat and missed you terribly, and wondered how on earth I’d buggered things up so spectacularly.”
Alex laughs. “Huh. Maybe if I’d not been such an obtuse asshole, the rest of my heat wouldn’t have been so awful.”
Henry’s fingers flex on his skin. “What do you mean the rest of your heat?”
“The breakthrough one. When we got back to DC there was like, a few more days of it.”
Oh, boy. From the look on Henry’s face, that’s probably not the best piece of news he’s had in a while.
“Hey, it’s no big deal,” Alex says, trying for reassuring and suspecting that he fails entirely. “I took care of it.”
He feels Henry’s shoulders tighten, and then release as Henry takes a deliberate breath. “Well. I hope they took care of you,” he says gently.
Alex furrows his brow. “I wasn’t with anyone.”
“But you said you took care of it.”
“Yeah,” Alex says. “I did it alone.”
Henry looks a little like his eyes are going to bulge out of his head. “Alex, we live in the same city. You could have called me and I would have been there for you.”
“Well, all that stuff went down,” Alex says. “And anyway. You don’t have to.”
“Alex,” Henry repeats. “I want to take care of you.”
“I can look after myself.”
“I know that,” Henry says with a smile. “I’m not saying you’re not capable. I want to take care of you because I love you, not because I think you’re not capable of looking after yourself.”
He tugs Alex’s hips even closer, so Alex has to sling a leg over Henry’s. It makes Alex think about a time a few weeks ago, when they were pretty much in the same position, except Alex was wriggling in his desperation to get Henry inside of him. Now, though, it just feels good to be close to him.
“I’d quite like to take care of you properly through a heat,” Henry continues. “The way I want to. The way you deserve. I’d like to take my time, as opposed to just fucking you in disgusting public toilets and supply closets and hoping that we don’t get caught. I want to hold you and feed you and make sure you’re drinking enough water and make you feel safe.”
“Oh,” Alex says lamely, trying to mask the shiver that runs through him at Henry’s words. “Well. That sounds nice. Particularly because I didn’t really take care of myself.”
Henry raises an eyebrow. “What happened to ‘I don’t need anyone to look after me, I can look after myself’?”
“Look,” Alex says. “I sat on a dildo for four days. I can pretty much cover that stuff by myself, but I guess it would be nice if someone brought me a glass of water. Dildos can’t really do that.”
Henry rolls his eyes, but kisses him anyway.
“I’ll get better at asking for help,” Alex says later.
“And I will do my best to make you feel that none of this is an obligation,” Henry promises.
“The doctor said I should plan my heat leave in advance. How much notice do you need to give to work?”
Honestly, the way Henry’s face lights up you’d think Alex just told him he won the lottery.
Alex yawns, and burrows his head further into Henry’s chest. “You’re gonna stay with me, right?”
He feels Henry press a kiss to his hair and murmur, “I’m not going anywhere, love.”
…
It’s election night, and Alex is so horny he might die.
He tried to avoid this. Honestly, he did. He planned his break in pills carefully to coincide with the week after the election, but his cycle is still out of whack after having skipped so many heats, and unfortunately his heat has decided to make an early appearance.
Which means he’s once again sweating through his suit in a room full of his colleagues, stressed about not only leaking through his pants, but also the electoral college and the fate of the entire United States of America.
Like, fuck. Alex just can’t seem to do anything by halves.
“Alright, love?” says a warm, calm voice in his ear, and Alex lets out a sigh of relief. There’s a large palm pressing firmly between his shoulder blades and he leans back into it.
“I’ll be fine if Pennsylvania goes blue,” Alex grits out.
Watching Anderson Cooper on CNN is not Alex’s usual pre-heat routine, but then it’s not as if he’s had that many heats to establish one. It’s something he and Henry are working on. They’re finding their rhythm, and that’s totally fine. It’s not as if they haven’t got time. They’ve only been officially together for a month or so, but Alex already doesn’t see himself spending a heat without Henry again.
He doesn’t even know why he’d want to.
Henry is, officially, here on press duties—at least, that’s what they’re telling people. There’s a small, privileged group of people on the campaign that know about Alex and Henry: Nora (because she already guessed), Raf (because Alex kind of had an obligation to tell his presidential candidate-slash-boss that he was in love with a member of the press corps), Raf’s Secret Service agents (so they don’t try and tase Henry if anyone discovers them making out in a closet).
Henry’s main duty, however, is basically to make sure Alex doesn’t lose his fucking mind, and he’s managing to accomplish this in a couple of different ways. The first is by making sure that Alex consumes zero caffeine, stays off Twitter as much as humanly possible, and generally being a tall, hot, supportive boyfriend with impossible broad shoulders that Alex can hyperventilate into.
The other method is dragging Alex across the hall to a deserted hotel room and fucking him until he calms down.
Both are pretty effective.
The bizarre thing is, it all feels a whole lot more personal now than it did when his mom was the one with her name on the ballot. Yeah, Alex shared that name, and the American people were essentially voting for whether they thought he belonged in the White House or not, but this time he’s not just a passenger. He’s behind the wheel. He’s got a seat at the fucking table. Alex is the one who has strategised and written speeches and spent hours lying awake trying to work out how to make the narrative say exactly what they want it to. It’s not lost on him that if things go well tonight, he’ll likely have a job as the White House Press Secretary.
But even more than just his future career, or the next four-to-eight years of his life—it’s about what he believes in. He believes that his designation is not going to be the thing that holds him back, and if Raf wins, it’s like… proof. Proof that it doesn’t matter that he’s the only omega in his family. He’s just as good as anyone else.
It matters. It matters so much to him. But at the same time, if they lose, he knows he’ll be okay. Because there, in the corner of the room, head ducked in conversation with Nora, is Henry, who has taught him that biology isn’t what dictates someone’s life or their choices. Who knows him and sees him and loves him for so much more than that.
As it happens, they don’t lose. They win.
There’s a party after the speeches and the interviews and the concession call from Governor Johnson, champagne bottles spilling over the carpet and balloons let down from the ceiling. It’s chaos and elation, and Raf hugging him so tight Alex thinks his ribs are bruised and saying, “Get ready for a promotion, mijo,” into his ear, and Alex absolutely, resolutely doesn’t want to miss any of it.
But there’s heat at the base of his spine and his shirt is sticking to his skin and he searches desperately in the crowd for Henry, who’s at his side in a second, scent washing over him like stepping into a still pool of water in the Austin summertime heat.
“We need to leave,” Henry murmurs into his ear. “Now.”
They run through the halls of the hotel and scramble into the back of a car, and Henry speeds through the streets at an illegal pace, his hand never leaving Alex’s thigh. When they finally make it into the apartment, Alex’s mind clears just enough for him to fumble his phone out of his pocket and jab out a text to Raf.
taking paid heat leave. congrats and everything but don’t fucking call me for at least a week
Then he tosses his phone away, and falls into Henry’s arms.